An Itch on my Back

There is a prevailing mindset among us Filipinos that seriously bothers me. It has almost become a national mentality, something that is close to seeping into the very depths of our culture. The mindset that she, the Filipina who marries a foreigner,(especially one of the Caucasian kind) is blessed by high heavens. The concept that a Pinay who ends up marrying a foreigner is very lucky. The mentality that  marriage to an “Amerikano” is a sure ticket, not only for her but for her family to escape poverty and on to an abundant life. I have heard this kind of conversation ad nauseum:

High school batchmate 1: hey, have you hear about so and so?

Batchmate 2:  Oo. is it true, she got married to a foreigner?

Batchmate 1:  Yes, they have a baby now you know. So cute. Blue eyes.

Batchmate 2: Gosh, she’s so lucky. I wish I’ll end up with a foreigner too so I can go abroad and see snow

I cringe at the logic. But a lot of my close friends actually say this. Even those that are pretty well-off.

I don’t understand why a lot of people don’t see anything wrong with this kind of perception. For me, if there’s something that screams of colonial mentality this is way up on the list. It’s as if we are in collective agreement that anything foreign is better than anything Filipino. If it’s white and blue-eyed, it must be good. If it’s abroad, it’s better. A lot of women, especially in the province, see marrying a foreigner as the way to take their family out of poverty. I am not judging them. I know that to some extent it is true and they don’t see anything wrong with this. The concept of “anything, just to help my family” will always be there. But I dont’ think this is right and there should be some sort of national thrust to slowly erase this concept from our minds. This clearly shows our inferiority complex. And we wonder why a lot of Westerners look down on us. Why, we look down on ourselves. What can we expect from others. Of course I am not generalizing. A lot of Filipinas get married to foreigner husbands and they have a genuine lovestory to tell. But to purposely sign up on those demeaning websites, adveritsing yourself as a Filipina looking for a foreigner husband?! I’m sorry but that comes very close to selling yourself. And selling yourself short if you ask me.

And what about those foreigners? What’s their reason again for having a soft spot for Pinay wives? oh yes, because Filipina wives take care  of them like a baby, submissive, malambing, gentle, talented in domestic things such as cooking and keeping the house clean. Well, if that’s not the most patronizing thing I’ve ever heard, I don’t know what it is. We should not even be so proud of this opinion about our women. Go hire yourselves a housekeeper or a maid, if you please.

And we wonder why a lot of of foreigners abuse our women and look at us with disrespect. If we continue with this mentality, we have given them permission to treat us that way.

While it is right that we must not judge, we should also realize that this mentality is one of the many reasons why we are not improving as a nation. We blame the government for every ill fortune that befalls us but we should also realize that our own individual attitudes, our involvement or apathy is a crucial factor to the reversal of our poor country’s fortune.

Confessions

As a Catholic, I am a failed one. I believe in every word of the Apostle’s Creed and is more familiar with the Bible and the Rosary than a lot of those who have not been breathing the air of Catholic schools for most of their education-pursuing years. I have read Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code and have not allowed it to shake my belief one tiny bit. I wave to the Sto. Nino, pray for the Blessed Virgin’s intercession, make the Sign of the Cross before eating, when going out or when passing by a church, abstain on Good Friday, and have ashes put on my forehead on Ash Wednesday. But that’s about as far as the strength of my Catholicism goes. I go to Mass on Sundays when, one, the guilt of missing too many has become too overwhelming; two, when I feel like it; and three, when I am in my resolved-to-be-a-better-person mode which is not as often as I would like it to be.

I am definitely against death penalty and abortion and reluctantly against euthanasia wondering if it’s really more sinful to help end a person’s earthly suffering than to help let it go on. I am pro-RH Bill, convinced that there is nothing there that violates the sacredness of human life and that it would help solve our country’s population problem, at the same time listening fearfully to the good people arguing against it and wondering if they are right and if my soul is eternally damned. I am in favor of divorce seeing absolutely no sense in two people who has come to despise one another continuing to stay together for the children’s sake while wondering if being one of the only 2 remaining countries in the world without divorce is enough reason for us to change our minds about it being something against God’s law. I am apologetically against same-sex marriage, believing that matrimony is for a man and a woman to unite in love while wondering if God really considers it utterly unforgivable for a man or woman to fall in love with a person who is incidentally of the same gender as him or her. I believe that acting on one’s homosexuality is a sin while wondering if the conflict between this belief and my open-minded, mature, and respectful tolerance does not make me the biggest hypocrite there is to my gay, lesbian and bisexual friends. I believe in marriage before sex while wondering if my so-called chastity has long been erased by the countless impure thoughts that has passed my sinful mind and if I am not being a fool, seeing that there seems to be nobody else I know who still believes in the crap these days. My last confession was almost 10 years ago, having long given way to my discomfort of reciting the shames of my life within a few inches from a human ear which we are supposed to consider as beyond human when equipped with the priest’s stole and when within the sanctity of the confessional box. Today, I have to admit that when I try to think of doing it again, my fear of making the priest go into shock by uttering the words, “Bless me Father for I have sinned. My last confession was 10 years ago,” and refuse to absolve me, feels greater than my fear of going straight to hell one day, foolish and senseless as it sounds. Let’s factor in the fact that my family and my small circle of friends are, I believe in the same boat as I am, not that it’s their fault. As they say, just sayin’. To add to my protracted Catholicism is my continuing to receive Holy Communion after all these, my wish to receive the Body of Christ in the hope of making me a better person, outweighing the lessons I have been taught in Catholic school that we have no right to receive Communion if we haven’t thoroughly cleansed ourselves of all our sins through Confession. If this is the case, then I believe most of us doesn’t have the right to receive Communion for the rest of our lives twice over.

Oops, there. I have suddenly written everything I have fearfully avoided thinking of all this time. My fingers commandeered by my pagan Muse. I guess I am going straight to hell. And if that is the case, a lot of you who are still reading this are definitely going with me.

Void

Fill the void,
Ease the pain,
Dry the tears,
Hold me please,
In your warm embrace.

Peace Offering

The Muse is calling. She hates me but can’t abandon me. She is punishing me for not listening. She is making me depressed with the craving to please and appease her and even more depressed by not knowing how to. She is my best friend whom I have yet to know. She is my angel who is right now angry as hell with me. She is exacting punishment  by allowing me to have this job, at the same time never letting me forget for one second that I do not belong here – the structured, the red-taped, the politicized, the stereotyped, the road oft’ taken.

The harder I try to do my best at being practical because it’s what puts food on the table, the louder I hear her voice commanding me to write without knowing the end.

She is punishing me by making me commit, almost involuntarily, an unforgivable crime – HR policy violation: using company resources for personal gain. Haha. Notice to explain coming up? How do I explain that I am at the mercy of my unforgiving Muse? Here I am, forcefully banging down on the keyboard, fingers commandeered by Her who’s mad.

My job description is telling me to set up a meeting with a vendor for tomorrow. Finish work instructions for a product. Complete the documents for 2 product launches. Monitor products. Compute gross margins.

She responds –

“I curse you to crave for writing but not be able to do it. I punish you with ideas forever swimming in your head but not being able to string them out coherently. I curse you with the envy you will feel whenever you see your friends on facebook happy because they’re living the lives they’re meant for. I curse you with a job you cannot afford to let go of even if your crazy heart tells you it’s ultimately the right thing to do. I curse you with the guilt you will always feel whenever you try to seek your happiness before that of your family’s. Above all, I curse you with the endless, incurable craving to write for a living while feeling all these.  I curse you with the gift and the fear both whispering in your coward ear.

The only way you can pay me back is drop everything and start from the ground up and I know that is scaring the shit out of you. I will forever be shouting inside your head with a defeaning noise that only you can hear. I can’t get rid of you, you can’t get rid of me. I live in you. I am your home. I am you. I am beyond your family. Second only to the God who has given me to you. Until the day, you throw all caution to the wind. Until the day you abandon fear and insecurity and just plunge down to it.”

Here it is, Muse. My peace offering. Along with it  a list of things to do in the office today – all undone.Happy now?

- di y. claro, liberated for a few blessed minutes, september 2010

Idol

Written about 3 years ago, this was an attempt at an essay inspired by somebody who has eventually become one of my favorite authors. I feel proud of this because of several reasons: one – it makes me feel patriotic considering that he’s Filipino. Childish, I know, but still. Two – it makes me feel like a nerd (and for some weird reason i like being described as something close to a nerd by some people) considering that a lot of ordinary pinoys haven’t heard about him, usually only those who have a sincere penchant for reading. Three – he’s faceless, he’s using a pseudonym and therefore mysterious. I like the fact that I like his writing so much without having to associate it with a face. And lastly – he’s not mainstream. unlike my other favorites like Harry Potter and Sidney Sheldon books, idolizing Bob Ong has a touch of indie if you may.

(This is in Tagalog though so apologies in advance to those who don’t speak the language. I would recommend Google Translate, except that I’d rather not:-))

Alang-alang sa paksa ay sususbukan kong sumulat sa wikang Tagalog. Ang paksa: ang bago kong idolo at idolo ng bayang minsan mas nakikinig king hindi matino ang payo: si Bob Ong!

Nakilala ko si Bob ong dahil sa kaibigan kong taga-UP pero hindi aktibista. Pinilit niya akong bumili ng Stainless Longganisa para mahiram niya. Nagpauto naman ako. Simula noon, ako ay nalulong sa isang bisyong hindi naman masyadong masama. Tulad ng adik, hinanap-hanap ko ang mga akda ni Bob Ong na napakadaling maubos sa maga bookshelves ng National Bookstore. Selling like hotcakes, man! Siya na marahil ang sagot sa dasal ng mga NGO na nagsusulong mapaunlad ang modernong panitikang Pilipino (naks, ang lalim!) at bigyang pansin ng mga kabataan. Sa impormal niyang istilo, marami ang nahihikayat niyang magbasa, lalo na ang mga kabataan at mga paslit 4 years old pababa.:-)

Mula asa paghihikayat sa mga Pinoy na imulat ang mga mata sa mga sakit ng ating lipunan at magpairal ng nasyonalismo hanggang sa pagsusulat tungkol sa mga walang kwentang bagay kung saan nakaka-relate tayo at nakakpulot ng gintong aral, alam lahay ‘yan ni Bob Ong.

Isinusulat niya ang malalalim na isyu ng ating pagka-Pilipino sa likod ng mga walang kwentang bagay tulad ng nagtataeng bolpen at nagsasalitang talangka. Sa pagsulat tungkol sa mga karanasang nararanasan din natin, makikitang kaisa at isa siya sa masang Pilipinong nagsisikap na maging tunay na proud Pinoy. Hindi siya National Artist o bigating pulitiko (maliban na lang kung matuklasang siya pala si Nick Juaquin o si Erap sa totoong buhay). isa sia marahil sa milyun-milyong Pilipinong di sapat ang kinikitang sweldo ta nabubuwsit sa buhol-buhol na trapik (maliban na lang kung siya pala si Lucio Tan in a pseudonym).

Iba si Bob Ong. Dahil hindi siya iba sa ating lahat. Gets n’yo? Ang kanyang mga akda ay nagbibigay-inspirasyon, nagpapamulat, nakakatawa, nakakapraning, nakakabilib! Idol man! Kung sino ka man.

Isa lang ang pinanghihinayangan ko. Na hindi ko nakilala si Bob ong noong ako’y nasa hayskul pa at sumusubok pang bumuo ong pangarap. Kung noon ko siya nakilala, nagkaroon siguro ako ng lakas ng loob na sundin ang sinasabi ng puso kong pangarap ko. .Hindi sana ako ngayon nagpipilit mag-Ingles with an americanized accent at nagmumura sa bawat bobong ‘Kanong tumatawag sa aming 1-800 toll free number (hulaan n’yo kung ano ako?! Tama!) . ‘Yon o narealize ko sanag mas cool maging jologs kaysa mapasama sa honors list. Joke:)

Higit sa lahat, idol ko si Bob Ong dahil mura ang libro niya. Di tulad ng Harry potter o ng The Truth About the da Vinci Code. Napilitan tuloy akong mag-collect. Sa ngayon ang kulang ko nalang ay ang ABNKKBSNPLAko?! (na nabasa ko na pero gusto ko ng sariling kopya) at MacArthur na palaging out of stock (ang tsismis ay subersibo at inciting to sedition kaya mahigpit na binabantayan ng otoridad sa hinalang si Bob Ong ay walang iba kundi si Joma sison. Joke lang again.). Sa ngayon ay hinihintay ko ang dalawang libro mula sa aking manita sa kris kringle.

Magsilbi sana itong isang karapat-dapat na tribute (ano sa Tagalog ang tribute?) sa henyong walang mukha o puwede ring mukha ng bawat Pilipinong mula sa katotohanan ng ating lipunan ngunit ikinararangal pa ring amging isang Pilipino.

Nawa’y hindi n’yo mapansin na makapal ang mukha ko at sinusubukan kong gayahin ang istilo ng idolo ko. Nawa’y hindi n’yo rin mapansin na sobrang palpak ko sa layuning ito.

P.S. Fast forward to the present time, Bob Ong remains faceless and still my idol. My favorites remain Stainless Longganisa and ABNKKBS…. He has recently release his new book Lumayo Ka Nga sa Akin (which is pink and looks like a Tagalog pocketbook) which I have yet to buy.

Pilgrim

At my funeral,
They will grieve,
They will cry.

Sad tears,
Wistful tears,
Sorry tears,
Polite tears,
Perfunctory tears,
Compulsory tears.

For they have loved,
As hard as they could.
Loved with affection,
Loved with obligation,
Loved with guilt,
Loved with resignation.

But they will not die,
A thousand deaths.
Nor hear their heart,
Break into pieces.
None will feel a melancholy,
So incurable.
Not one heart,
Will bleed forever.

I am not,
What I seem to be.
Not a daughter,
not a sister,
Not a lover,
not a friend,
Not even an enemy.

I am a lost soul,
A passing pilgrim,
Through this life.
Not theirs,
Not mine,
Not the world’s
To keep.

The Act

Now that all’s been said and done,
Goodbye my friend, woe be gone.
This farce has come to its bitter end,
You’ve broken me, now let me mend.
Hear the applause now, take a bow.
You’re the finest actor in the curtain call,
The greatest liar of them all.