Dream Journal on a Tiring Tuesday

Weird dream.

I was in a girl group of agents — like Charlie's angels — and selling our services to spy a husband and give two options : kill without a trace, or full restoration of relationship via marriage counselling. So many conversations in between, most of those I have forgotten. Nagkunyari kaming real estate agents when I found a potential client na iniistalk ang asawa sa building. So what I did was to look for evidences to corroborate na nanloloko talaga ang asawa, before we roll the spiel — that selling point. 

So I went to a room acting as a maid like Maid in Manhattan and found a lipstick and a lingerie. And she was crying. When I suggested the services, she was conflicted. Told her we won't give her demands, and we can refer her to another agency who can give other "friendlier terms".  

I wasn't able to tell what she wanted, but she was in tears when she finally decided the terms. However, when we gave her the form, another agent gave me a NDA document and in it—I found the doctor's family home. 

Then I woke up with Timmie's cries to let him out of the bedroom, and I write this in haze before I go back to sleep. 

Orayt, goodnight!

Dear M

 Dear M—,

Naalala mo pa noong college, patay na patay ako sa iyo? Nag-confess ako sa iyo Friday night, tapos nag-break na tayo Monday night, sa may catwalk habang naulan nang malakas at maghihintay ito tumila, kasama ng mga tsismosa nating kabarkada? Sa sobrang lungkot ko, naisip ko bumili ng notebook, at magpalitan tayo ng mga liham sa isa't-isa, ipapahiram ito bawat gabi, at itinatala ang mga ginawa nating pag-aaral sa maghapon? Hindi ko naisip that it would be my writing style; ang naisip ko noon, gusto kitang makilala, kasama ng pagkilala ko sa mga riles ng PNR bilang main transport natin kapag sabay tayong uuwi after class. Kapag may pagkakataon akong sumabay sa iyo pauwi south-bound, isusugal ko ang oras ng commute at ng mahabang pasensya ng paghihintay sa second to the last trip to San Pedro, kung saan standing sa tren at kakarag-karag, mala-Home Along da Riles circa 2004.

Naalala lang kita nang magawi kami rito sa Albay at nakita ang mga riles na nababalot na ng carabao grass, o natatabunan ng aspalto sa National Road para sa sasakyan, at naisip kong sobrang bonak talaga ng mass transit sa Pinas. Hindi mo mae-enjoy ang magkakawatak at magkakalayong rancho at tourist spot ng Bicol region kung wala kang kotse. Malayong-malayo sa Japan kung saan bawat tourist spot eh may train station sa tabi.

Naisip rin kita nang makilala ko si J—. Galing rin sya sa school natin, pero team-dorm sya, hindi team-riles. Puru siya aral, at never nakasakay ng PNR, kaya ibang-iba ang kwentong promdi niya sa mabangis na lungsod. Nasa bansa na rin sya ng may effective bus transit at hyperinflated car prices kasi maliit ang lupain ng mala-NY na ASEAN nation. 'Kako sa kanya, ninais ko rin sumulat ng kwentong paglalakbay at pagkakaugnay — sa pamamagitan ng paggamit ng tren. Naalala ko na sinubukan ko yun noong college. Sinubukan ko sa iyo noon.

Parang tayong tren: mga riles ang nagdudugtong sa atin mula sa malalayo, riles din ang mahihiwalay sa atin kapag nasa gitna ito ng tawiran. It bridges the far distances to a close, and yet, we break away if we're too close. Gusto ko ring isulat ang kabalintunaan ng riles, katulad ng kalakhang maynila na napapalibutan ng balintunay: sa bawat barangay may solo-living sa mataas na condo na kapitbahay na class C at D na bahay na bato at lulan ang isang angkan. Parang tayo, na kahit anong pilit kong lumapit sa iyo noon, kapag hindi uukol, hindi bubukol. Ngayon tuloy, hirap kang igapang ang ipon mo sa mamahaling bilihin ng diaper at isasabay mo pa sa iyong hinuhulugang motor.

But that's another matter of irony. Hindi babagay sa balak kong isulat.

Na-enjoy ko ang Bicol, M. Kaya lang nalungkot ako kasi sa pag-enjoy ko, kailangan pa ng kaibigan kong humanap ng rent-a-car at puntahan ang mga lugar na may magandang view ng Mayon, at pwedeng picture-an pang-instagram. Kung hindi mo nalalaman, ang lakas ko maka-jeje sa social media. Gusto ko parati akong may picture sa travel ko, lalo na ngayong hindi ako masyado nakakapag-travel na. Kaya siguro hirap din sa pagsusulat, dahil hindi na masyado nakakapaglakbay. Adulting is so hard, I am faced with the challenges of purchasing furnitures and fixtures, that I sometimes losing contact with friends, and even losing sleep. Puru labas ang pera, pero para sa investment naman daw ang sabi nila. Parang sugal, para sa maalwal na pamumuhay.

Sana ganun din ang ating gobyerno, marunong sumugal para sa maalwal na pamumuhay ng mga tao. Kahit man lang sa mga bus na on-time, o sa mga LRT at MRT na dumarating na every two minutes sana. Pinakamaganda, ibalik nila ang long-distance rail transit mula Tayuman hanggang Bicol. Hindi yung puru San Pedro. Iabot na nila hanggang dito sa Albay. Better yet, get it done until Sorsogon. Para wala na akong dahilan bakit hindi ako makatawid ng Leyte. Ang probinsya ng tatay kong aning-aning na at hindi man lang death-ready ngayong matindi na ang sakit niya. Hay, nalulungkot ako na ang Pilipinas ay katulad ng tatay ko: lakas mangutang ng pera, pero hindi man lang maglaan sa kinabukasan. Hipak pa ng bisyo.

Sa pamamagitan ng kotseng hiram ay nakarating ako sa Green Hills ng Quitinday. Hindi ito shopping center oi, literal na berdeng burol na may kubo at matatanaw ang perfect cone kapag naiakyat mo ang lampas 100 steps assault. Eka nila, isang Congressman na raw ang bumili nito. Revoked ang ancestral domain. Wala man lang malasakit. Paano na kapag nagkaroon ng 100% ownership sa saligang batas? Hindi ako against sa ganung economic policy, pero kung hindi epektibo ang Tax Code nating circa 1977, paano natin masisingil ang mga panginoong maylupa, di ba? Hindi nga rin effective ang AMLA natin kasi andami paring naglalaba ng pera sa mga casino eh. Laba-pera habang nanonood ng Broadway. Ganun ang burgis way. Sometimes, free check-in for a patron. Oha, maging permanent resident ka lang ng sugalan para tuluy-tuloy ang money integrating. Hindi ko lang alam kung alam mo pa ang ibig kong sabihin; hindi ka na accountant, di ba? Nasa call center ka ng payables-receivables, kung saan mas nakaka-relate ka kung paano magsesettle ng mga credit card bills ng misis mo, kaka-hoard ng mga baby supplies sa Lazada kada buwan.

Sa dami ng gusto kong isulat kapag ako ay naglalakbay, hindi ko na maipili ano ang uunahin ko. Katulad ng paggamit ko sa notebook natin, parang dumpster lang ng mga iniisip ko ang notes app dito sa phone. Mas maganda ang tech ngayon, all of these are stored in a cloud. Hindi katulad ng notebook natin na nawawala na nang makita ni mama ito at itinambak sa kung saan, tapos ayun, Ondoy happened.

I just wanted to write about travel and connections and yet here we are: me trying again to connect to you via this epistolary exposition and you not knowing where I was and what I am doing. Kaya heto ako, nakahigang nagta-type habang tanaw ang mahiyaing Mayon.

So. Kumusta? 

Thank You, Bigolas Dickolas

This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

But when I think of you, I want to be alone together. I want to strive against and for. I want to live in contact. I want to be a context for you, and you for me.

I love you, and I love you, and I want to find out what that means together.

My, what a ride! I love the fact that they only used the scifi element as the backdrop, and really focusing on the letter exchange. Made me feel giddy sometimes, even though the motions of the time war made me confused a bit. There's shape shifting, time-jumping, competition and chase — and then there's taunt letters that turned into love exchanges.

Thanks to Bigolas Dickolas Wolfwood and his insane twitter traction that made me curious to this book. And it's like what Honey said, the best way to sell a book is to have that one reader fully ingesting its content, and fully blasting his/her raves and heartfelt sentiments. Thanks to this book, I am back on the reading groove.

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Prayers for the Unresolved

I am this close to unblocking him and actually offering him a fuck-buddy-relapse-pseudo-jowa. But then I was thinking of the precious beginnings we have had and the subsequent abandoned moments and the disrespectful antics towards our previous romance. I am not sure if prayers helped to get through with these interludes, but sometimes, ngl, I cry myself to sleep because I do wish that this festering desire to be kissed and touched will go away. 

Please pray for a stronger resolve.

Sometimes I call this as a craving. And I do think this is a valid, yet insatiable need. I don't watch romcoms, no more of the kdramas, not even porn. Just to get out of this system. But even those random taps of my workmates, I shoo them away. Because I might break down of frustration. 

Staying in condo helped. I just open the balcony and hear the white noise of the manic traffic in c5, languishing the motivation to stay awake, and deciding to sleep on the floor even with the Manila heat and the absence of AC in the unit. 

Hours later after I wake up, sometimes it goes away. Oftentimes though, it lingers in the farthest corner of my mind.

Sometimes I think I became unlucky, looking for summer romance of sorts. I mean, what's the meaning of it all — making the first move on bumble. And then they offer to drink beer at the first meeting? What about having actual food and actual coffee or even a glass of water? Are wholesome activities already dead in the field of online dating? That is so sad and frustrating. 

And before getting to the sleight of hand — to address that craving — I still have to put my best foot forward. And yet, men are really intimidated on how I say things, or even tell candidly on the things that matter.

Hays. I do apologize for all these lashing out to you in the wee hours of morn, and I sometimes I tell myself that I was abusing you as a friend. I might need to pay you for being a quasi-therapist. Just because the midnight therapist is away on a holiday. I guess he is tired of me saying all these, too. 

But again, thank you for all the patience and for just reading these messages, even they are going in circles like my thought process on things. 

So. There.

Limewash

 20 April 2023

Dearest K,

Kumusta? After a long month of not communicating with you (in any way, btw), here I was, thinking of you while I was finishing up my DIY Project. I completed my accent wall today! Sure, there were naps and trashtalking and introspections in between, but painting seems to be therapeutic. It kept me grounded and present, always checking that the primer and the limewash paint will not harden; the continuous stirring and the conscious dipping of the brush makes it more of a task handed to be done. The repeated strokes are also meditative and measurable. The activity was predictable. I hope in time, like painting, we were able to meditate whatever happened in our lives in the past days, get the task on hand done, and feel proud of whatever we did. And also, to share it with someone who mattered.

Today, you do matter.

E

Dream Journal on a Good Friday

Napanaginipan ko sya. In another world, Neurologist na sya and legally single. And we were crying because after all those years, love pa namin bawat isa. Matindi yung sugat na iniwan nya ako, and for him naman, yung scar from the fear na kayang-kaya ko sya palitan. And we were riding a yacht where he can mix drinks and serve the guests, and suddenly, may isang onbarded sa barko na may sugat / sakit pero hindi ko alam anong sakit o anong dahilan. Nagpatawag ng mga doctor sa barko, kung hindi raw rumesponde ay babarilin lahat ng pasahero. Tatlo silang doktor na nagprisinta. Pero siya yung pinakamatagal sa loob and pinakamay exposure sa pasyente. Hindi ako mapakali, sumilip ako sa pinto kung nasaan ang pasyente, pero may baril na hawak yung guard sa labas.

Nang matapos yung operation, nagkakatremors sya, tapos niyakap ko na lang, hindi na niya napigilan yung pag-iyak. Sa takot. Tapos naiyak na lang ako, dahil sa takot at awa. Tapos nakatulog kaming nakaupo pero yakap bawat isa, the aftermath of that incident with the patient. Kinabukasan, parang bigla syang nawala sa sarili ulit. May malalim na iniisip. Hindi ko makausap, ganun. So pumunta ako sa yacht at naghanap ng tubig. Uminom muna hahahaha hindi ko alam bakit ang linaw ng eksena ng pag-inom ng tubig. At gumising ako para uminom ng tubig.

Pagbalik-tulog ko, parang dumugtong yung panaginip na nameet ko yung 2 doktor na pinili na mag-opera sa patient. Tinanong ko kung bakit pinakamatagal si ex sa loob, sumagot yung isa, "kelangan nila ng may experience sa trauma". Dun lang ako nagkaroon ng lightbulb moment na trauma doctor sya and hindi neurology ang tinuloy nya, kundi orthology (para sa buto). And dun ko na-realize na hindi na kami ang para sa bawat isa kasi may kailangan nya ng therapy na magmamanage ng trauma niya. 

So nagising na ako tapos nai-type ko ito.

Need.

 19 Feb 20xx

19:20

Hi.

Hi.

Baler.

Now?

Yes. Now. Need.

You know where I am?

Not yet.

Room 2019.

Drive or grab?

I don't care.

Basement 2.

Slot 19. It's empty.

Ok.

I work full time tonight.

19 o'clock.

Til?

Til 2.

Then you do you.

Ok.

Are you sure?

Not for me to say.

Are you sure?

No. But—

I mean, I can. Can't I?

Always.

So...

See you.

Tonight.

Yes, tonight.

We'll see each other.

But please—

No more gaps.

We love, and

Give in tonight.

Eye to eye.

No thoughts.

No words.

Just feelings.

And this midnight meeting. 

Workshop in a Written form

Kulang na Silya at Iba pang Kuwentong Buhay: Essays on Life and Writing by Ricky Lee
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

PAGKALIPAS NG MAHIGIT NA APAT NA DEKADANG PAGSUSULAT SA PELIKULA, ANO ANG MAIPAPAYO KO SA MGA GUSTONG MAGSULAT?

Mahalaga na maging mahusay kang manunulat pero mas mahalagang maging mabuti kang tao. Your heart has to be big dahil dapat magkasya dito lahat ng tao mula sa pinakamabuti hanggang sa pinakamasama.

I like this little book of essays!

These maybe written in bilingual, but the simple prose and vocabulary makes it understandable to the high school students who really want to take the hard profession of creative writing. When you read these works orally, the cadence is easy-going and alluring to the listeners. I tried reading it in front of the mirror, and I cannot help but in awe to the wisdom that he has put in the pages. Reading the stories are reminiscient of my attendance to the PRPB book discussions with him as we interviewed him about the two books, Para kay B and Lahat ng B.

I guess the one star deduction is the feeling that I got ripped off of my money, because the collection is somehow already been received in form of an oral tale, or by watching a youtube, or a recycled messaging from his social media account. It may also be my impression of the pricing — like I paid ~Php60 for a repeat performance, when the first-time I saw or heard it was only for free.

In a way, it looks like that payment is a pay-forward to those young writers who take him as an inspiration to creatively write, with no inhibitions and hesitations, regardless if you start small or in a simple form. The verbosity and the creativity in writing will develop if you keep writing. And that's his legacy to them and to me, as I aspire to keep that vision— that in less than 20 years, I should be able to build my own writing collection, as long as I keep writing and improving my creative pursuit.

After all, we write because we do not only keep it for posterity, but we also need to record our truths.

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Apology 3000

Songs of Sunset: Incantations and Spells by the Spirit Questors by Tony Pérez
My rating: 1 of 5 stars

You know the feeling of having a piece of work being outdated, even though it shouldn't be in the first place because it is a poetry collection?

Well, here is an outlier.

So maybe, just maybe... this is why the book is in newsprint. I don't know, so many bad things to say about this but dili na lang ako mag-talk.

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bb, bakit?

Maybe it's my hormones talking (since I am in Day x of the heavy flow), but I wanted to lash out at you. We know that way back, we have our topsy-turvy feelings in sync. We feel each other intuitively if we are craving for lusts of each other, and find some keywords — a go signal to fully consume it.

The moment you summoned those words, I was thinking of you for the last three nights, on how you touched me and turned me on... that passionate kiss and skin-to-skin embrace, that act of intercourse, and that pulsating after-sex rhythm between my legs. On how you rested your head on my chest after you climaxed, and how I touched you hair and kiss your forehead, and whispered the words "I love you, bb" to the heavens.

But that night, all I ever did was reply back, "Can't. Marupok tayo pareho but we can't." Then I looked myself in the mirror and I saw myself ugly crying.

Is that how I come to you now? Rather than giving yourself that boundary and self-respect, you have stooped so low and settle to be my fuck-buddy? Is that how things work now, bb? No vision on the self to at least get yourself to therapy before reaching out to me? Or at least send an invite to talk to me properly? Have the closure that we really need? Bakit ganun, bb? Bakit ganito na ang nangyayari sa atin? I was distancing myself from you, working on my best to do self-healing and shadow-working; have loony conversations with a pseudo-therapist; became a cash auditor to a wedding; nearly flirt an asexual gay— twice at that— and yet, I cannot help but think about you and our little moments of togetherness, happy in our little moving bubble.

I was craving for sex, yes, but I am also craving a romance that I do deserve. I also deserve the respect of being a woman who is pursuing her dreams, and trying to wing at adulting. And yet, at this point in time, you just wanted to fuck me? Is that it?

Alam kong bawal ang mang-judge ng mga ganitong set-up sa panahon ng genZ na normal na ang kabaklaan, pagkalakal ng katawan, at mental health, pero bb naman. We aren't genZ at all. Isa kang Gen X. At ako, geriatric millenial. We don't settle for these tropes anymore. Wala na dapat talking stage ulit. Wala na dapat situationshit. We distance ourselves, heal ourselves, build ourselves, BUT SEPARATELY. So that years down the lane and we see ourselves again, baka this time around, we can make the renewed relationship work.

In one of my conversations with the midnight therapist, he asked if I know my boundaries. I said yes, and he asked something to test it out,

"Oks guguluhin ka ng idea na 'to, pero at some point I really wish he could wait for me kapag nawala ako nang matagal just because feel ko magkuweba."

My reply to that was this, "I don't have the tenacity to wait if I feel abandoned. Goodbye, ganern. Kung may respeto ako sa partner ko, mas mataas ang respeto ko sa sarili. Dun at dun ako babalik. Sa pagiging ako. 

At gusto ko, ako ay buo."

Let me be whole again, bb.

Maybe we need to meet to actualize what was in the November 2022 email. Provide ourselves the closure we really seek. Years from now, if you are also whole, perhaps we can meet again. Not as total strangers, or mere fuck buddies, but as exes with lesser baggage of the past and decided to be friends (from the distance).

I always pray for your healing. And I know that loneliness can be overbearing at times, but hold on to the beautiful moments around you. Kaya natin ito. We can be alone but not lonely again. 

Laban lang.