Diyosang Bacla

When I first saw her in the paper, I knew right away that she was the one.

There was something about her that I couldn’t explain at that time. To begin with, she was quite unattractive: non-existent hair, skin problem, malnourished frame. The world had been cruel to her at such a young age. She was barely recuperating when I decided to meet up with the kind souls who took her and her siblings under their care.

I remember that day vividly—it was the 26^th of May, and she was in this huge box. Sarah and Michelle apologized because they told me they had two girls and two guys. Turns out, she was the only rose among the thorns. They took her from the box and handed it to me. The moment I held her, she gave back this very warm feeling… In fact, she hugged me, both her front legs holding my shoulder affectionately. Sarah and Michelle knew then and there that she was meant for me, and I to her. They said we were a perfect match.

I was so excited that day that even if you looked awful, i drove you down to beach road to have our very first stroll in the park. There was an alarming sound in your stomach that I had to call Michelle a number of times just to be sure that nothing was wrong. You even threw up on the passenger seat that it got me scared and laughing at the same time. But when we got out, when the sun was about to set and the view was simply breathtaking, you started to look better.

I knew that others made themselves believe that you’d remain hideous. Not me. The instant that I held you close in my arms, I held you in my heart as well. There was a sudden, overwhelming faith and hope that you would be the best that you are while you’re with me.

And you were. You started to grow your hair. You gained more weight and grew bigger every single day that I had to let you stay in your own place. You earned yourself a few but very loyal friends. Yes, you almost finished all my shoes and you even started on some of my books. I got mad, all right. Had it been my old self, I would have been harsher than just reprimanding you. But you’ve taught me to be a better person by being more forgiving and loving. You were a beautiful soul.

I’ve been tired physically and emotionally but whenever I got home, you’d make me forget all my worries. All you do is wag your tail like there’s no tomorrow and I have an instant smile on my face. You love to leap on me. It was so cute while you were still little but you looked awkwardly funny when you grew so big. I’ve always considered you human, because you always hug me like you understand how I feel, or you want me to understand something about you. You were the sweetest, the most loving I’ve ever known.

I knew I was a little negligent about you the past weeks. To be in such pain wasn’t an excuse. But I always knew you understood. I didn’t want to hold you down so I let you loose so you can roam around and have fun while I try to put my life back on track. And I saw that it did you more good than harm, so I was confident that it was all for the best.

But seeing what happened this morning, seeing you lying on the ground, lifeless, I was at a loss for words and emotions. Then pain, outrage, remorse, and more pain sank in. why did it have to end in such an appalling manner? How can someone be so ruthless and take away an innocent’s life? Life had already been cruel to her in the beginning. Why did it have to be so pitiless in her last moment on earth?

I have been weeping since I saw you out there, but I know that even if I cried an ocean, I wouldn’t have you back… You who have been sounding board, shock absorber, daughter, friend, sister, pet…

I was supposed to take you to the beach this weekend. We were going to have a date. But it’s too late.

I would want to catch the perpetrator… I want to make him or her pay for this… but knowing you, you wouldn’t want me to be wasting my time while I could run freely and live a life.

But for now, let me grieve. Let me mourn, my precious Jarih. Let my lament show you how much you mean to me. I love you more than I ever expressed. ‘Til we meet again, my moon goddess.

first was brad renfro. and now, heath ledger. what’s happening to the world?!

i actually just shrugged off the one about brad. i wasn’t so into him after all. but i don’t think i’ll get over heath’s death anytime soon. it’s heath ledger, for pete’s sake! 10 things I hate about you was all about him. and he wasn’t just your typical good-looking actor. he knew which projects to accept. he had acting skills. brokeback mountain proved that.

sadly, another statistic to hollywood’s drug-related deaths. rip, heathcliff andrew ledger.

you have desired me in my darkness. i have surrendered myself in return. we have held each other captives of time and space but nonetheless have kept our identities intact. it was all so eternally and sadly remarkable.

–o0o–

yet we were both aware that someday, it must come to an end. and that knowledge passed in painful silence, for we have made a choice: to handle our finale with much grace and understanding.

–o0o–

the only way to accept losing you is holding on to you.

–o0o–

i did. i did as i promised, although i know that there would always remain a sadness in me you’ll never fathom. because i have let myself beholden to you.

–o0o–

when love occupies both body and soul, fear becomes nothing but an insignificant detail in the realm of emotions. one loses every bit of defense, to the last vestige of fortitude. just like a crack on a dam. it breaks the whole dam, allowing the water to flow continuously.

–o0o–

to be well acquainted with the beauty of this world could be nothing but a beautiful journey. there is yearning, excitement, tenderness, delight, anticipation, even solace, in the ebb and flow of life that had just begun.

–o0o–

It was another slow and languorous Thursday. The blistering heat of the sun has toned down, signaling the end of my shift. As I was waiting for the clock to strike five, the phone ring resounds in the room. Almost the end of another working day so might as well sound like it, I thought to myself. I pick up the receiver with a smile.

“*bleep*. Good afternoon!”

“Hey, Clarissa,” the voice replied. Uh-oh, it’s the boss.

“Hi, sir!” I said cheerfully.

“Who was that guy again who kept on calling about the Red Cross tickets?

“That would be Mr. Tan,” I answered.

“Call him and let him know we’re gonna get two tickets from them then make a check,” he said.

“No problem.”

“Are you going to that event?” he asked.

“I’m gonna pass. Ticket’s a hundred bucks each,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Why don’t you go and bring a friend with you? My treat,” he replied.

“Are you kidding me? You’re actually gonna buy me two tickets?” I sounded like an idiot.

“Yeah, that’s what I said! You can use the tickets we’ll buy from Mr. Tan. Have a good time there.”

I’m not the type who’d say no to a good fortune such as this. I gladly accepted his offer.

“For real! I’m really gonna enjoy my Saturday night! Thanks, sir!”

Holy crap. For years, I’ve been wanting to attend the annual American Red Cross fundraising event but I couldn’t possibly allocate a hundred bucks from my budget for a night of fun, even if it goes to a good cause. And now I’m finally going! With a chaperone, too! My, what a blessing!

Come Saturday, I spent about three hours preparing for the occasion. Despite the afternoon rain, I decided to wear my purple babydoll dress adorned with a gold and silver belt. It’s good to dress up once in a while, as opportunities to do so come rarely on this island.

Rock ‘n Red Cross Club 200 was a ‘50s-themed event that took place at the Hyatt garden area. The venue was awesome; guests were greeted with life-size pictures of ‘50s icons. Tables were enhanced with replicas of jukeboxes atop faux record albums. The American Red Cross officers and staff were in full ’50s swing as they flaunted their costumes. Guests feasted on heaps of salad, sashimi, pasta, and an assortment of desserts and were entertained with hits of the ’50s courtesy of Hawaii’s very own Kapena band.

The wheel of fortune must have been in motion for me that night. My friend Tina and I were were visualizing the grand prize of fifteen grand while wolfing down our desserts when we heard my ticket number called for one of the minor prizes!

I got to attend the event, I danced the night away, and I got to bring home a lunch certificate for 2 at Hyatt and a certificate worth of hundred bucks for groceries.

I couldn’t help but hum Square Head’s Happy on my way to another party.

when the blunder on the Desperate Housewives show was first reported in the news, my initial reaction was that of annoyance. the punchline was both unnecessary and not funny. the show could have done without that remark. it was particularly unfair for the medical practitioners in the US  because we all know that they need to submit themselves to various exams and prove their worth based on US standards before they are able to practice their professions in the land of the free and home of the brave.

point taken. but just like how emotions tend to adjust after further analysis of a situation, mine did after I have given myself enough time to think.

i am not a follower of this abc hit show and hearing about teri hatcher’s character from the avid viewers, it was expected out of the character (not the actress. there’s a difference) to make such stupid remarks without first thinking of what she has to say. the thinking part should have been done by the writers of the show anyway. the line could mean two things: it could be downright funny or insulting. after airing the episode, they found out it was the latter. who knows, it might have been part of the show’s strategy to cause this hubbub just to increase its ratings. but that’s another story.

so I still reckon the remark to be uncalled for.

but. and here’s the big but.

in the philippines, recto is notorious for fake diplomas, transcripts, etc. how can you blame the international community for ridiculing this unaccepted yet blatant industry in our country? i personally believe that it wasn’t the show’s objective to malign pinoy doctors in the US. i believe they were trying to satirize the counterfeit diplomas the philippines is unfortunately known for.

an apology has been issued by the abc network. why dwell too much on this controversy so to speak and make it such a big issue? instead of asking for the boycott of the show, why don’t we trace and eliminate the root of the problem? why don’t we put a stop to the rampant production of counterfeit diplomas, certificates, licenses and the growing number of fraudulent medical schools in the philippines?

there are a lot of other issues that are way more important for our lawmakers to tackle. we’re not even half way through the real scenario in regards to the ZTE deal. even cris mendez’ real killers are still on the loose. for a congressman to demand an actress to make an apologetic remark in a later episode is beside the point. he didn’t even get the actress’ name correctly (TERI THATCHER!) on national/international tv. now the joke’s on him.

the moment my friends and i waited for finally arrived last night.

fiesta resort’s hibiscus hall was jam-packed with hundreds of fans and spectators for the first ever Saipan Grand Fiesta Pop Music Festival. the ten finalists showed the music videos of their entries and performed the songs live with the StreetBeat Band.

our friend Mac’s composition, "Sweet December," made it to the finals. he chose no less than another fab friend Macoi to interpret the song.

and the video stars? macoi, hapi, and moi!

Mac was inspired to write the tear-jerking ballad by friends who experienced heartaches during the most festive holiday in a year. the humorous guy that he is, Mac thought of giving the video a certain kind of twist. since the song was dramatic as it is, the idea was to infuse humor without veering away from the story of two lovers parting ways.

frankly, we were kinda apprehensive that others might be unforthcoming with our idea of "defying social norms." but the magnanimous reception of the crowd proved us wrong. everyone was reeling with laughter, and a lot of them did a standing ovation.

our video may not have won first place in the Best in Video Category, but the song as well as the interpretation rocked the judges for "Sweet December" was second runner up! all of Mac and Macoi’s friends were screaming their lungs out after it was announced! kudos to Mac, Macoi and the rest of the creative team!

our video and those of others are gonna be compiled and sold to the public soon; they’re gonna be shown regularly on Flame Tree Channel; the event will be reported on local (read: PI) media; and Mac will upload it on YouTube!

oh the sweet taste of fame!

An eclipse is not a daily occurrence, so yesterday’s lunar eclipse was a dazzling spectacle for me. The moon was red all over it looked like Mars! Awesome! I only took one shot and it was picture-perfect!

Don’t you find it odd that the Humanities Council scheduled Dr. Thomas King’s lecture on Amelia Earhart’s demise on said lunar eclipse? How very timely.

Anyway, Dr. King was an articulate and engaging speaker. In his two-hour lecture, he tried to answer the question "Whatever happened to Amelia Earhart?" (Now I’m singing Switchfoot’s Someday You’ll Know in my head). Dr. King narrated and summarized the findings on TIGHAR’s most recent expedition to Nikumaroro Island. Their hypothesis proves to be the most sensible theory to date regarding Earhart’s and her navigator Fred Noonan’s disappearance off the face of the earth. Still, despite their $ 600,000 budget for each expedition, evidences remain to be inconclusive.

He mentioned things like a daylight UV scanner (to be used for scanning teeth in their search area!), aerial photography, and tide hind-casting. Quite fascinating what science can do just to re-trace the steps of people who lived almost half a century ago. But I still believe that more than half a million dollars could have gone a long way for more humanitarian projects.

Was Earhart a fool to dream the impossible in those days? She did meet her end because of that dream. But because of her tragic ending, she made it to the pages of history. Total eclipse for Amelia? You decide.

It was a damp Friday night as Crabby Lass and I pulled out of the office parking lot to join the early evening traffic on the highway. I am comfortably settled on the passenger’s seat while Crabby Lass takes charge of the steering wheel. I check on my watch perfunctorily. We have about two hours before we head out to The Rev’s place for a night of chow and booze to celebrate The Clown’s natal day, the advance screening of our music video, and to just watch a movie.

I hear our stomachs grumble vociferously, wanting to be gratified without delay. “Where to?” Crabby Lass asks. “Let’s see,” I reply. So we drive around while trying to decide which restaurant can sate our hunger pangs. I insist on trying out this small but great bistro which I heard serves authentic Japanese cuisine. Crabby Lass gladly agrees so we pull up outside the bistro. As we step inside the place, we immediately get the feeling why the bistro has its regular patrons. On a night like this, it is teeming with customers (mostly Japanese) who are after a dining experience just like the ones they have in their home country.

We are greeted and led to a corner table by a Filipino waitress. After what seemed like eternity of waiting tables of other customers, she informs us that since it is a Friday night and they have a full house (the rest of the tables are held under reservation), the food might take a while before served. We politely decline to wait that long and tell her that we will visit again sometime.

With our minds made up, Crabby Lass and I set out for a Chinese restaurant along Garapan. An amiable Japanese-speaking waitress, who turns out to be Chinese, welcomes us by the door and hands out Japanese menus to us once we are seated. “You Japanese?” she asks courteously. It’s not the first time that someone mistakes us for Japanese, but we chuckle on her assumption just the same.

Crabby Lass lets me choose so I go for three viands made up separately of chicken, pork and vegetables. Amiable waitress brings us our order in no time, and we devour the food at once. The food is moderately priced and flavorsome at the same time. Crabby Lass puffs a stick as we let our bellies do their thing. Before we snooze on our seats, we force our stuffed bodies to stand up, pay for the bill, and head to the car. Crabby Lass takes the wheel inevitably, since darkness has already cast its ghostly shadows, obscuring mainly my imperfect vision.

We arrive at The Rev’s place on the dot. The gorgeous celebrator greets us by the door, giving us a peck on each cheek. Before we could hold back ourselves, Crabby Lass and I both blurt out a “Happy birthday friend!” as we hand him a bottle of Merlot. The Rev eyes us reprovingly, willing us to shut our mouths before we could spoil our surprise for him. We catch his drift, so we steer the conversation to another topic.

Crabby Lass and I are introduced to the two other guests who are yet to be our acquaintances. Apparently, pretty expectant mom and her spouse are both the host’s and celebrator’s friends in their sporty endeavor. Just then, The Star Boyfriend turns up and commits the same mistake as us when he greeted The Clown and hugged him warmly. The Rev, who never lets any gaffe slip under his humorous wit, puts The Star Boyfriend on the spotlight with his comical remarks. After the introductions, I make myself snug on the couch while CL occupies herself in the preparations for the surprise for the birthday celebrator. Within minutes, The Producer announces that we can help ourselves with the food.

Our eyes feast on all the gastronomical treats on the table waiting to be consumed. “You cooked everything?” I ask him. “Yup, all on me,” The Producer replies. “Aaaaawww, we ate before coming over here,” CL tells him. “I don’t care if you’ve eaten, just eat again and make sure you eat a lot!” was The Producer’s stern answer. I help myself with delectable servings of salad, chicken, pasta and garlic bread.

At that moment, Neo-geisha, D40, and Elan arrive with bags of booze to complement the extensive meal. Since everyone’s in attendance, The Rev proposes the toast for the night: the first and second are apportioned to CL and NG for the tidings of great joy they have received careerwise, and the third is allotted to the success and advance screening of our music video. Then The Rev makes his signature humorous aside. “Well, since it’s going to be The Clown’s birthday in a few days, let’s make a toast na rin for him kahit napipilitan lang tayo friends.” Our bunch roar with laughter, and add another string of side remarks for the poor fellow.

“Why don’t we all get our food so we can all sit back and watch the music video?” The Producer suggests as the hilarity died down. Everyone concurs, so we all fill our plates with different dishes and find ourselves a place to sit on. The Rev asks The Clown to sit on the director’s chair, meaning to put our clueless dear celebrator in the limelight. As The Rev pressed the play button, all eyes are glued on the boob tube. To The Clown’s bewilderment, we are seeing his pictures on the screen instead of The Star Boyfriend’s and mine. The tv puts on view photographs of our celebrator with his friends and his great love, to the tune of The Clown’s theme song. And as the credits are being shown on the screen, The Rev and Crabby Lass come out from the bedroom with a candle-lit birthday cake in tow. The Clown cries unabashedly, and with a quivering voice conveys his gratitude for his friends.

Birthday greetings and good wishes are made and photographs are taken with the teary-eyed celebrator. The Rev pronounces, “Ok, enough of The Clown, on to the main event!” Everyone guffaws as they take their seats again in front of the screen. As the DVD menu of the music video appears on the tube, all and sundry are in hysterics. Who wouldn’t, upon seeing the faux couple’s sweet and sugary photos used in the video shoot? So from start to finish, all of us are in fits of laughter, particularly because of our Boy Band wannabe The Star Boyfriend.

D40 remarks, “You ok, Star Boyfriend no!” Then I teach her another Filipino phrase which she tells to The Star Boyfriend (to our amusement, no doubt) when he staggers on a corner table (“Ikaw kasi!”) . The night is young so we play Neo-geisha’s DVD, “Relax, It’s Just Sex.” The movie is as uproarious as the crowd watching it.

The evening shindig is capped with more nourishment, booze and repartee.

“Finally,” I muttered to myself as I got out of the dusty car overloaded with filters. I find myself in the middle of a vast arid region—inclusive of rocky boulders and sand dunes—on an island that’s doomed to be taken over by the feds. This location, especially the part where I have to endure winding roads chock-full of deep holes just to get to this place, reminds me what I dread about my job.

As everyone in sight seemed to be engaged in all sorts of perfunctory labor, I approached an American chap (let’s call him Jowly Man) who looked like he’s in command of the situation.

“Hello there! Good morning,” I say to Jowly Man as I come within his earshot. This man, who can pass for my grandpa, gave me a rather impish smile. “What can a lovely young lady be doing in this awful surrounding?”

Flustered, I reply, “My name is *bleep* from *bleep* and I’m looking for Carl. I’m here to deliver loads of filters that he ordered.”

“So you’re (my boss’ name)’s right hand!” Jowly Man exclaims upon hearing one of my boss’ conglomerates. “How is he?”

“He’s doing great. As a matter of fact, he just came back from Guam last night,” I inform him.

“Good. Oh, here’s Carl. Make sure to hit him fiercely if he gives you a hard time,” Jowly Man teases.

“I sure will,” I retort.

Carl and I then proceeded to unload his acquisition (our income, yippee!) from the car. Ostensibly, Jowly Man was in the mood for a chitchat, so while Carl and I were so rapt in tallying all the filters, Jowly Man continues what was supposed to be a short-lived conversation.

“Some of the filters we need you don’t have in stock,” Jowly Man says.

“No, we don’t. Not only because we have a small container. Not a lot of customers need those filters, so we don’t usually buy them in bulk,” I reply.

“How’s business coming in?”

“Not that great, I’m afraid.”

“Those CUC guys ain’t paying you on time, huh?”

“Damn right, they don’t.”

Jowly Man sneers. “I used to be in charge of their project in Rota. I did everything according to their specifications. And we finished that damn generator on time. But when it came to payment time, it took them nine months to pay. Nine months!”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” I say, raising my eyebrows.

“And they still owe me 800 bucks. I told them they can just have it.”

“You’re quite lucky. They owe us a thousand fold. Boss has been meeting with them, constantly bugging them to pay us but to no avail.”

“They want me to do another project for them. But I said, hell no! There’s no way I’m gonna enter into another contract with them after what I’ve gone through with the first one.”

“I think my boss has had enough as well. Whoever wants to work with guys who want the job done on time but don’t know when to pay their dues?”

Jowly Man chuckles at my rejoinder. “And these are the same guys who don’t want the feds to get their asses over here and take control over ‘their land’. No offense, but I don’t think they’re fond of your group—Filipinos, Chinese, Bangladeshis.”

I snigger on his civility. “None taken. Fear breeds insolence.”

“They keep on saying ‘those Filipinos’ and emphasize that this is ‘their land’ but have they seen themselves in the mirror? They themselves have Filipino roots! Why don’t they check a Filipino telephone directory and see for themselves their own family names?”

I nodded sagely.

“They are adamant in saying that they are the rightful owners and inhabitants of this place but do they know their history?”

“I don’t think so.”

“That’s what I thought. How can you know where you’re going if you don’t know where you’ve come from?”

“You won’t,” I assure him.

“I hope the feds come over here soon. The only thing that concerns me is the mass confusion that this takeover might create. I was in Guam when the same thing happened many years ago.”

Carl hands me the receiving copy for the invoice. I check my watch. It was time to go.

I bid Jowly Man goodbye. “It was nice meeting you.”

“The pleasure’s mine, lovely lady. Hope to see you here often.”

I get inside the car and rev up the engine. After the offensive language and insensitive stance of the Governor, the legislators and the SCC, it’s quite amusing to discover that not all of their lot are atrocious.

Hope springs eternal, after all.