One for the Books: Ricky Lee

(This article originally appears in Talk Talk Tilaok April 2010 issue)

“Hindi naman totoong walang nagbabasa na Pilipino.” – Ricky Lee

It was a breezy Sunday morning when I walked up the familiar green gate of Ricky Lee’s house in Xavierville, Quezon City. Matagal-tagal na rin simula ng huli akong pumunta sa bahay na ‘yon, na laging bukas sa lahat ng kaibigan, estudyante, workshopper o kahit sino pang gustong bumisita o matuto mula kay Ricardo Lee, the multi-awarded film and TV scriptwriter, fictionist, journalist and playwright. As for me, once an attendee in his 2004 scriptwriting workshop, I’d always have fond memories of learning and simply having a good time in that house.

I couldn’t help but feel giddy to be back in the home of possibly the best storyteller in the Philippines; the mind behind many of the Filipino film classics, from Himala, recently recognized by CNN as The Best Film of All Time in Asia-Pacific, to Moral, Salome and Karnal. Springing in an era considered to have been Philippine film’s golden years, Ricky Lee did not stop churning out thought-provoking stories that captured the Filipino soul: you got Anak, Rizal and Tatarin among his latter works to prove that.

With 150 film scripts since 1979 under his belt, many of them award-winning, on top of his works as a journalist, fiction writer, TV consultant and in the past few years, as a novelist, he continues to write with a childlike openness that only thinks outside of the box.

Sir Ricky greeted me with a warm embrace right off the staircase, akap ng guro at kaibigang matagal nang di nakita. The interview he granted me, while shedding light to his current activities driven by a newfound passion, was also the chance I’ve long been waiting for to rekindle ties with a respected mentor, with everybody’s “Tatang.”

Revived fictionist
Since 2004, Ricky Lee has been ABS-CBN’s drama division creative manager, and on exclusive terms. During this onslaught of TV work, however, the fictionist in him was being brought back to life. He confessed, “Hindi ako nakapagsulat ng pelikula outside. Puro telenovela ang hinandle ko, from Lobo to Maging Sino Ka Man, Lovers in Paris, hanggang Dahil May Isang Ikaw.”

“During those years, dahil buhos na buhos ako sa TV, dun ako nakapagisip isip na matagal kong nabitiwan ang pagsusulat ng fiction, kaya nagkaroon ako ng craving for creative work. On the side, nagsulat ako ng mga nobela. Three years ago nang nasulat ko yung draft ng tatlong nobela,” he added.

On Para Kay B and his new advocacy
His work bore fruit, and on November 30, 2008, his first novel “Para Kay B (O Kung Paano Dinevastate ng Pag-ibig ang 4 out of 5 Sa Atin)” was launched at the UP Bahay ng Alumni. The book tells of five unconventional yet touching tales of love built on the ‘statistic’ bannered by the title of the novel. Although he has aready previously released books Trip To Quiapo, a scriptwriting manual, and Si Tatang at mga Himala ng Ating Panahon, a collection of his short stories and articles plus the screenplay of Himala, Para Kay B is close to his heart for it was a dream come true.

Bulto-bultong kaibigan, tagahanga, dating estudyante at kilalang celebrities ang dumalo, not only as spectators but also as helpers in mounting the event. Heartwarming, lalo na dahil sa ginawang reading ng mga excerpts mula sa nobela nina Piolo Pascual, Lorna Tolentino, Gina Alajar at iba pang artista.

Lee explained that writing his first novel, along with the launch and the mall tour efforts that followed, propelled his advocacy, na buhayin ang pagbabasa ng mga Pilipino ng literature na sariling atin. He told me of his observations. “Napansin ko, ‘pag pumunta ka sa mga library at sa mga bookstores, usually 10 o 20 percent lang ang Filipiniana.

“Naisip ko, mas exciting yatang pumasok sa field na ‘to at patunayang pwede akong magsulat ng nobela sa Pilipino na maraming magbabasa. Para dumating yung time na pupunuin ko kasama ng iba bang Filipino writers ang mga bookstores natin hanggang maging 80 percent Filipiniana naman.”

“Ginawa kong madaling basahin, para masabi nung mga nakabasa sa iba na ‘Uy mababasa mo ‘to,’ kahit na nobela,” he added. And he was right, for after Para Kay B was released, he was pleased with the response he got from the readers.

“Napatunayan ko na hindi naman totoo na walang nagbabasa na Pilipino. Hahanapin mo lang sila, tutuntunin, kasi nawala na sila sa habit ng pagbabasa, o natabunan na ng TV, pelikula at kung ano ano pa.”

Which is why, he said, instead of simply waiting for people to read published novels, a Filipino book author must go out of his way to reach out to them, and that he did. “Talagang pinagpaguran ko. And then nagba-blog ako, nagfe-Facebook, sinasagot ko lahat ng nagbabasa, nagfi-feedback tungkol sa libro. Kumonekta ako sa readers ko, hanggang nakikilala ko sila lalo,” Lee added.

On being encouraged by OFW readers
Ricky Lee went on to tell me about OFW readers’ response to Para kay B, and how this further encouraged him to write more books, specifically his second novel in the works, “Aswang.”

“Si Ricky Lo, na madalas ipagkamali sa akin, bumili sya ng 20 copies at nagregalo sa mga kaibigan nya abroad. May mga tumawag na daw sa kanya kaagad, saying ‘Uy nabasa na namin in one sitting! Ano pa bang mga gawa ni Ricky dyan?’

“So lalo akong na-encourage na ituloy itong advocacy, at ituloy ko itong Aswang at iba pang mga libro. Hindi ko magagawang magbasa sila lahat pero may malaking number ng mga Pilipino na nagbabasa na enough para mabuhay ka bilang isang nobelista.

Joan: Is there a difference in terms of fulfillment between finishing a screenplay and a novel?
Ricky Lee: Oo, ibang-iba, ang sarap sa nobela! Kasi sa pelikula, from step 1 hanggang final draft ng script, hanggang matapos ang shooting, may nakasawsaw at mas may kapangyarihan pa kaysa sa’yo. Pagkatapos ng lahat, madalas hindi mo na ma-recognize yung trabaho mo.

Sa nobela, marami akong kinonsulta. Nagfocus group ako, nag-survey, nakinig ako sa lahat ng tao. But in the end, ako pa rin ang nasunod. Sa pelikula, pag pinanonood na, natutukso akong sabihin sa katabi kong nanonood na ‘yung part na yan, hindi akin yan. Pero sa nobela, aking-akin.

Joan: So, more books from Ricky Lee in the future?
Ricky Lee: Oo, maglilibro ako ng maglilibro. Importante ang libro e. Importante rin ang pelikula at TV, magkakapatid lahat yan. Pero libro ang kailangan itulak, so gusto ko doon.

Joan: How about your writing workshops?
Ricky Lee: Hindi naman ako tumigil sa pagwoworkshop ko ng libre sa mga gustong magsulat, simula pa noong 1982, at hindi pa rin ako titigil. Magpapaworkshop pa rin ako, under ABS-CBN or kahit ako lang, sa film and TV, maybe even fiction writing.

Iba rin ang kasi ang nakakapag-share ka ng talent. Kung i-co-consider ko ang sarili ko as mahusay, malaking dahilan doon ay dahil hindi ako tumigil sa pagwo-workshop. Kung may naituturo man ako sa kanila, natuturuan din nila ako. Kaya naman nagiging mas bukas ako, mas flexible and in the end naging mas imaginative.


Joan: You’ve been talking of Ricky Lee as a writer. Sino naman si Ricky Lee bilang isang tao?
Ricky Lee: Hindi ko hinihiwalay ang pagiging writer ko sa pagiging tao ko. Parang ang isang doktor, nanggagamot siya may bayad man o wala, dahil doktor siya. Ako writer, parang part ng breathing ko na iyon, magsusulat ako hanggang sa mamatay dahil writer ako.

Kalahati ng writing ko ang pagtuturo. Ang paniniwala ko kasi, an artist has to share always. Di ka huhusay kung di ka nagsi-share. Mabubulok ang talent mo. And finally, music. Music ang passion ko. Maski anong klaseng music---rock, ballads, broadway, jazz, rap, hiphop. Nagpapatugtog ako habang nagsusulat.

Joan: What is your message to OFWs who also want to write?
Ricky Lee: Isa sa mga topics closest to my heart ay ang buhay ng mga OFWs. Ang first and second plays ko, Pitik Bulag sa Buwan ng Pebrero at DH with Nora Aunor ay parehong tungkol sa mga OFW. Marami rin akong pelikulang nagawa tungkol sa kanila, Miss x, Flor Contemplacion, Anak at Dubai.

Pero gaano man ako kainteresado o karami ang maisulat ko tungkol sa mga OFWs, in the end ang pinakamakakapagkuwento pa rin ng buhay nila ay sila rin. Napakarami nilang mayayamang karanasan doon na sana ay marinig natin sa sarili nilang boses.

He needed to go to Regal Films for a meeting he said, and was sorry he had to rush; it was already past lunch time. Habang nililigpit ko ang laptop at siniguradong na-record ang aming interview, nakangiti akong napaisip sa mga susunod kong gustong gawin: basahin ulit ang Para Kay B, iba pang akda ni Ricky Lee at ng iba pang Pilipinong manunulat, at patuloy pang magsulat at mamuhay nang bukas ang isip. Thanks to ever-generous, tireless artists like Ricky Lee, people like me can prove that yes, Filipino books can flourish; and that yes, life itself can be much fuller and more meaningful.

Catapult

I’m an addict,
never could see
when my urges take over
and beat up one of my three
little selves,

High-strung with life’s speedy
Joyrides and
Miscalculations I ask question after question
To your ire
and to my needy
addiction, feeding
And here I thought I was done with
Pointless questioning

Oh how I lose myself too much in the puddle,
and I hate that my spouse and
child settle for my watered-down self on most days.

I miss aimlessness
And hours of un-thinking
And just living.

And so on a catapult I prop my feet
ready to be swung away
to only my Creator knows where –
should be an alright addiction,
free and sweet,
I’ll see you in mid-air.

Amazing!

Amazing!

As I spent time with the Lord just now reading His word, I’ve come to realize something amazing: Jesus remembered to pray for me, and for all of us who believe in Him, even before He died. Even before He gave Himself up to be crucified. Don’t believe it?

In John 17, Jesus prayed for Himself as He knew the time of His crucifixion was nearing. He asked God the Father to glorify Him that He also may glorify the Father. And then right after that, He goes on to pray for His disciples then, as He would leave them behind for the world to persecute and experience all kinds of tribulation. John 17:14-19 says, as Jesus went on to pray for His disciples:

“I have given them your word and the world has hated them, for they are not of the world any more than I am of the world. My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one. They are not of the world, even as I am not of it. Sanctify them, by the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world. For them I sanctify myself, that they too may be truly sanctified.”

...in the earlier verses, John 17:10-11, He says this, still praying for His disciples:

“All I have is yours, and all you have is mine. And glory has come to me through them. I will remain in the world no longer, but they are still in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them by the power of Your name—the name you gave me—so that they may be one as we are one.”

As I was reading that I thought, wow, what a true friend Jesus was to them. He prayed for His 12 disciples! In the earlier passages He even remembered Judas, who at that point in time was just about to betray Jesus by giving Him up to the soldiers to make the arrest and bring Him to trial. And aren’t we taught that when we pray for someone, we really allow God to work in that person’s life? It’s amazing what happens when God’s people pray for each other, and yet Jesus prayed for his friends, His disciples! Imagine the blessing they would receive, and boy did they receive blessing – the Holy Spirit to begin with, to protect them from the evil one, plus anointing to heal the sick, to speak in tongues.

And as if that wasn’t enough reassurance, John 17:20-21 goes on to show the rest of Jesus’ prayer – this is really the point I’m driving at: He prayed for you and me:

“My prayer is not for them alone. I also pray for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world will believe you have sent me...”

And then verse 24 goes, “Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world.”

You may ask why this is important to me, why I should blog about it. I guess because this makes even more real to me the concept of HOPE, more so, hoping in the Lord. I now know more than ever that to hope in the Lord for better days is never in vain, because Jesus Himself already thought of me, even prayed for me, right before He died on the cross for me and my sins. He prayed for you, and all else who believe His word to be true, and accepted Him as his Lord and Savior. So whenever we pray and ask in His name, we know it shall never be in vain. We know we will receive His blessing, at His perfect time. Because He prayed for us first! He prayed for all of us even before we started praying for our own concerns. Think about it. Jesus loves us that much. I say this because I know how hard it is for some to spend time in earnest prayer, what with the busy lives we all lead – I myself find it hard to give God quality time in prayer. But now knowing that Jesus prayed for me brings me joy and encouragement to pray for myself and others. It’s no phony realization whatsoever – you can ask me, even here, to pray for you. What is it in your life do you want me to pray for? Post a comment and I will pray for you.

Hope in the Lord. It will never be too old a truth. And never get tired of praying. Just my two cents.

It's a mistaken world

always trying to turn you into someone else
or trying to be something else
when it was just fine otherwise
always on its feet
shuffling the Cha-cha
when the tempo's
set for Tango

and a funny one, too
with enough jokes and gags, wrong turns and crashes
to get you laughing lightyears
though ironically
and if you're lucky
or charmed or blessed
however you call it
you can make it through
a tad smarter,
a genius even,
that's affably affected
by years of mistakes
mistaking you
for a big mistake.

Layoff Psychology – Or At Least How It Happened To Me

It wasn’t the perfect job, but when I got a callback from the online-selling promotional products company back in October 2007 hiring me to be their newest copywriter, I thought just that. Not that my copy editing job prior was that bad—in fact it’s still one of the companies that I’m proud to have been associated with to this day—it just that, well, I felt underpaid and undermined. Thus my eagerness to get into this new company that promised an exciting new work environment, and a host of benefits you can’t find elsewhere!

November 1st was my starting date, basically because the company wanted me to begin right away. Now I’ve never been a superstitious person, though I’m occasionally curious of eerie events, but now when I look back I sometimes find myself thinking, maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to start then.

Working there wasn’t quite as I imagined it would be, but it was okay. I was treated decently, I gave them what I was asked of—copy for all new merchandise to be uploaded in company website’s online catalogue, pretty much. The team I got assigned to wasn’t necessarily my idea of friends, but then I’ve always been complimented to have the talent of making friends anywhere. What I looked forward to everyday were the coffee breaks and lunch hour, where I would get together with two of my colleagues whom I’ve become friends with during my previous employment – actually we resigned from there at around the same time, too, and got jobs in this new company. To that end I guess it was almost the perfect job, working with friends.

Three months into the job, and things started getting shaky. The company was US-owned, and with the economical recession then in the advent of burgeoning into the gaping hole it is today, the execs were all on their toes, panicky. Soon talk of “cutting costs,” “making ends meet,” and eventually, “company-wide layoff” became everyone’s daily gossip.

It was funny, because I didn’t feel that much affected – not that I had zero fears of getting fired, after all I was one of the newest ones onboard – but somehow, for some weird reason, I was indifferent about the whole thing. Sure, I engaged in talk of so-where-do-we-go-next-if-ever among close friends, but not every two seconds like the others.

A week passed, and indeed, the layoff happened. First two, then four, sometimes even almost a dozen people at a time, one department after another. Accounting. Sales. Art. Marketing. Still not feeling the tension.

Then that evening came. I got to work pleased that traffic wasn’t half-bad when it was in fact Friday night, ergo congested EDSA night. I ran into my supervisor on my way up the building, talking in a hushed tone with two of my other colleagues. I thought nothing of it and went straight to the elevators.

Mindless hours later and into my coffee/cigarette break, I went out and there’s my supervisor again, this time she told me, “Joan, they’re asking me to pick three people.”
I honestly thought my heart sank, but it didn’t, although I pretended to be devastated. It was really funny, this feeling of distance from all the panic. She went on about assessing performance, tenure and all that, but I could really care less, I thought then. Maybe it was an instant defense mechanism? I didn’t know. But I remember just thinking then, if it’s going to happen to me, then let it. I’ll manage. Or maybe, I was really convinced at the back of my head that I was going to stay. I mean, I did a kickass job at copywriting, why would they want to kick me out?

Conference call, everyone in the team was in the room. The VP from offshore rambled on and on from the loudspeaker about how she didn’t see this whole thing coming, how she thought each one of us was valuable and indispensable. It was all white noise to me. And then finally, the names. Three people.

She said my name last.

I swear, I did not expect to be the least bit stirred. But I was actually floored to the hilt! I realized then that the reason why I was indifferent all the while was because I really did not expect to get fired, and I really did not want to be, no matter the countless times I’ve said the words “there are so many other jobs out there, anyway.” And just about then, when everyone was consoling me, even telling me the company made a bad call kicking me out and that I deserved to stay, the reality of being “jobless” started to hit me like one thick hardbound thumping on my head after another. I thought about my baby girl just about to turn one that year, my mom and my two brothers still studying who depended on me, especially since my dad had just died two months prior. My husband had a decent job, sure, but his salary alone would not be enough.

I kept cool going through the paperwork that very same day. No more coming to work Monday, they said, but I’ll be paid for a whole month on top of my last paycheck.

It wouldn’t be until two months after that I’d find another job. Not the same benefits, what with all other companies tightening belts as well I guess, but decent enough pay, not to mention more challenging. But the days that followed the layoff were grueling, I must admit. It wasn’t easy to find a new job with the description and salary you want, and start from scratch again when you’ve just settled in. I found myself busying with other things besides applications, like my mother’s small business that sadly didn’t do well, and taking a work-from-home stint that ended up not so well either. I had to brave myself to face everyday knowing I did not have the security I used to have, reassure myself that I was worth a company’s trust and investment. And I had to learn to fully, even blindly, trust God to take care of things for me.

I turned out okay, and it’s been over a year. I’ve put the experience behind me, and I look back to it with a smile now and a lot of gratitude – I still have that same job and it paid the bills. Getting laid off and being able to go through it and survive has permanently reshaped my character, I must say. I’ve learned to adapt better, to hold on, to value what I have. It taught me to be prepared for any jab and that sometimes it can be an uppercut from nowhere, and how to cope when it does hit hard on the nose. And now that recession continues to happen and affect many others – would you believe, my husband got laid off just last week! – I know better than to care less and rather, prepare for the worst. Prayer has never failed me too, I learned, and so I continue to trust Him and let Him be God. Yes, never mind if my next job come another year or so signs me up to start November 1st again.

Here's to World Domination, one shirt at a time!

Musselli, my bandmate, former blockmate, thesis mate, kainuman and soul brotha has finally launched his own T-shirt store, ThinkInk Design Clothing (a couple of designs are mine, and sheesh i owe him a dozen more)! A dream come true -- well at least one of his/our dreams come true, conquering the world one rockin' T-shirt at a time -- but the best is yet to come! Soon we shall dominate all you earthlings and remotely have control even over your morning rituals, mwahahahahaha!

Visit http://thinkink.multiply.com/ and add as your contact -- you can get the store's profile from there, what it's all about and how it ROCKS. You can order, even personalize a shirt for yourself for that comfort and gratifying feeling of having absolutely NO ONE else wearing the exact shirt you have on. Be cool for once and buy a shirt from ThinkInk, OK?! :D

Surprise Phone Call/Optimus Prime

I’ve been toying the idea of looking for a new job for days now. And so I sent my resume to a couple of seemingly reputable companies just last Monday…

But I never thought they’d hit me back THAT fast!

Got a call from one of my prospects just an hour ago. Yes, the guy called my office phone—thank God it was me who picked up! Found out later that they first called the house and Raffy, ever helpful, asked the recruitment person to call my office line. Oh well, oh well…

So now I really don’t know what to think! Or do in the days to come, for that matter. I remember always saying to myself, back when I was still single and non-mommy, to always, ALWAYS Carpe Diem. Sieze the day, sieze every opportunity... so I guess I will then!
I'm heading home now, but before I do so, let me just declare that I am...

...70% Optimus Prime!

Optimus Prime Optimus Prime is the heroic leader of the Autobots. He is the personification of courage, strength, and integrity. His personal motto is that “Freedom is the right of all sentient beings.” Like Optimus Prime, you are good by nature. But beware because mischievous thoughts sometimes tempt you. You are inspiring, confident, and a natural leader. The Autobots have chosen well. In addition, you enjoy technology and are aware of the latest trends, but you stick with what works for you.

Got this from the "Transformers Quiz Test(try it out! http://www.funflip.com/quiz/transformers/)." It made my day finding out that I am "inspiring, confident and a natural leader." Hay. Just the lift I need these days. I'm starting to forget that used to say those things about myself a lot before.

Le Festin / See you in Paris, Ratatouille!

Php8,000 Meralco bill unsettled less than 24 hours from now = isolated blackout. Sweldo = ubos. Kulang pa nga. Jaira’s Enfalac = half-empty.

It’s good that when I’m this close to snapping, I can go to Paris—thanks to that lovely, lovely song Le Festin (The Feast) from Pixar’s Ratatouille OST that transports me all the way there….

Jamais on ne me dira que la course aux étoiles, ça n’est pas pour moi
Laissez-moi vous émerveiller, prendre mon envol
Nous allons enfin nous réga . . . ler

La fête va enfin commencer
Et sortez les bouteilles, finis les ennuis
Je dresse la table, demain nouvelle vie
Je suis heureux à l'idée de ce nouveau destin
Une vie à me cacher, et puis libre enfin
Le festin est sur mon chemin
Une vie à me cacher et puis libre enfin
Le festin est sur mon chemin. . .

…so goes the chorus and last verse. Oh, how the song just makes everything picturesque! It’s on endless loop mode on my PC right now and things are just dandy, at least in the meantime. I can touch pale yellow and rust fixtures on wooden counters, smell freshly-brewed espresso and feel my heels clicking down cobblestone streets lined with dandelions and Marguerite des près...

Funny all throughout with a generous serving of French entrees and cute moments of rats flipping spices and herbs into boiling pots (I know, whoever thought this picture could be cute!), the movie for me was a much-needed break from my then worsening-by-the-day work anxieties.

But my life these days is on hyper-hurdle mode; work issues have been replaced by, uh, broke-ness, and mom-unrest. If you’ve read my aforementioned analogies, we’ll experience isolated blackout by tomorrow if we don’t pay that Meralco bill (primer: Raffy and I are living with my family, including my mom, to help them out with the bills. Unfortunately, we’re ending up paying everything ourselves. And it’s not like we’re earning enough for seven people.)! This problem alone is enough to fill my panic quota for the day.

Gustaeu, the master chef in the movie, has this motto, “Anyone can cook!” which got me thinking for a good 20 seconds—not that I don’t cook because I do, I do, I do! It was just that, well, it struck me that if “anyone can cook,” then anyone can dance, anyone can sing, anyone can make loads of money….LOL. Really, it gave a bright side to everything about my life right now. No matter how impossibly telenovela-like it is at the moment.

But more than the movie, I am loving the song Le Festin. Aside from that instant Paris effect, the lyrics translate beautifully, too. More than hopeful, the song is brave.

Here’s the English version of the verses in French above:

Never will they tell me that I cannot shoot for the stars;
Let me fill you with wonder, let me take flight
We will finally fea . . . st.

The party will finally start
And bring out the bottles, the troubles are over
I'm setting the table; tomorrow is a new life
I am happy at the idea of this new destiny
A life spent in hiding, and now I'm finally free
The feast is on my path
A life spent in hiding, and now I'm finally free
The feast is on my path…

Give it a spin, and I’ll see you in Paris, mon cher!

Thanks to my dear Karla, who gave KC and myself free passes to Greenbelt theater the Thursday before last, I was able to watch the movie AND share a splendid night-out with two of the best 20-something girls I know .

Nakow! I lost my marbles!

Mad Monday again. Took the MRT for fear of being late taking the FX. Stood in the middle part of the first car right where the floor is slanted. Blamed myself the whole ride for picking heels over flats.

I have two stalled blogs I was supposed to post last week but wasn’t able to finish. Was swamped with work so much that I didn’t even have time to sneak out to the hour-long therapy for my wrist.

And it didn’t help that I took on a side job for which I expect to earn extra (don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for this side writing job! Big thanks go out to Karla!) I tried to finish it off, to no avail, over the weekend. So, well, yeah, it’s been tiring since for-evah and my head’s about to plop on my keyboard right now!

David Sedaris kept me kind of sane, though, as I leafed through his book of personal anecdotes, “Me Talk Pretty One Day” every chance I get. The guy is seriously funny and brilliant (and gay) and I think he kind of rubbed off on me.

Sedaris’ humor, however, wasn’t able to discount the fact that I still had, how do I say this, incurable issues with my mom when it came to money. Going into details might shame her, for it also involved her supposed boyfriend, so I won’t.

In desperation I got down on my knees last night—seriously, I did, like little girls do by their beds in phony movies—and prayed for maybe a hundred times that He touches my mother’s heart. And that He provides us enough dough to, number one, tend for our needs without the funny heart-wrenching feeling similar to that of a little boy losing all his marbles, and to, number two, move out. Sorry ma, but I really think we have to.

* * *

Just some time ago my workmates have been discussing their Camarines Sur trip plans—which sounds like a whole lot of fun, believe me. There’s a fiesta that they’re supposedly crashing for food freeloading, and they’ll be touring and watching dolphin shows and staying at our dear Jas’ place there for two days. They're almost winning at twisting my arm to go with them, but I just can’t let them! The P1,500 fare-per-head alone is too much for my wallet to lose, plus I wouldn’t go without taking Raffy. And taking Raffy would, yeah, double the fare and blah, blah, blah. Jeez. Sometimes when I talk I feel like we’re dirt-poor!

But in the greater scheme of things, I still ought to feel lucky. It’s not as bad as it seems, really. Jaira’s laugh is golden, and it just makes me and Raffy forget that we actually have bills to pay. And she laughs so much more often now than she used to! It is such a treat to just watch her laugh, youbetchorpwet.

And as Mica often quotes those The Secret authors, telling me to exude positive energy to attract the same (verbatim: isipin mo na ang mga bibilin mo pag may pera ka na!), I realize that, what the hey, there’s still reason to be happy. And to try keeping my head from plopping keyboard-ward now, though I feel like, over the weekend, I’ve lost a hundred thousand marbles… whoops! Sorry—positive thoughts, positive thoughts… sweldo day tomorrow… positive thoughts, positive thoughts.

3am squirmy fits

(first posted on Multiply)

So much for promising myself I’d post something profound for a first blog…who would’ve thought I’d think of something better?! Somehow, everything that has to do with Jaira, my three-month old baby girl, is just simply better.

Last night at 3am I awoke to her constant squirming beside me, sweet little grunts that I knew meant, “Mommy, I want dede!” And so off I go to the makeshift milk prep table in our room where Jaira’s can of Enfalac A+ (we welcome sponsors, yes!) sat, nearly half-empty (or half-full to promote positive thinking?). I mentally computed how much cash we had left and figured we better buy another can on Saturday, sweldo day. Sigh.

A bottle and one less drippy nappy later, Jaira was still far from sleepy, cooing and flashing me her irresistible smiles. Good thing I already submitted to the fact that yes, 3am can also be playtime. And 1am and 2am as well. OK, 5am can count, too.

She conked out a little past four. Yay. I still had about half an hour to rest before getting ready for work. Surprisingly, I didn’t mind.

And I didn’t mind too when I was late for work because I changed her nappies, yet again, and played “where’s mommy’s hand?” with her right before I was supposed to leave the house.

What is it with becoming a mom? I wouldn’t have had the patience for these sorts had it been the old me. So I’d have more time for the myriads of things I used to, and hope to do…but I’d never ever be the happiest 24-year-old alive, like I am now.

I had wanted to go through the labor-room-horror-experience-of-a-lifetime stories I always had handy for those who asked. And circumstances would supposedly preempt me to go on and on about the slim (na sana ako na lang, diba?) bank account, the sleep deprivation, the insecurity and what-nots. But surprisingly, I don’t. Aside from the fact that Raffy (yes, we’re married now, for those who wonder. hehe) would hate me for it—somehow this husband of mine has mastered the art of positive thinking--whining just doesn’t quite seem to fit in the Jaira-picture of my life today. OK, “reduced to hopeful dreaming aloud” is what my usual whining’s really turned into, I guess. Still better than whining. :-)

Thanking God is now easier, too, I find. Work still sucks and I still have baby fat, blah, blah, blah, but there’s reason to smile everyday. Even during the 3am episodes, somehow the mental picture of Jaira blossoming into a beautiful girl and growing up to be my bestfriend just makes my heart burst. Which I find freaky, of course, since I never dreamt of being my mom’s BFF when I was a kid, up til now actually (and it’s corny but it’s how we’ve now become! I guess it’s that way when daughters become mothers, huh?). But what the hey.

Stiff stuff

IF I WAS LOOKING at myself right at this moment, I would've laughed so hard as I watch a sweaty, non-bathed Me grappling for words to put in this first blog post, procrastinating as hell amid all the workload and chores I keep postponing.

I've just finished reading The Catcher In The Rye--finished it this time, unlike years back when I just read half of it and, hell yeah, kept postponing my reading the rest and never really got ahold of the book again, eventually losing it somewhere. For no reason, upon sighting the title in a bookstore recently, I bought another copy. Maybe that's the darn reason why I'm suddenly talking like Holden Caulfield, the book's madman anti-hero. Or writing like him, at least, right now. Boy. (Haha. you should grab your old copy if you have one and count the number of times that helluva character said "Boy" in almost every sentence. Kinda gets stuck on you, Holden Caulfield.)

Holden ended up in a psycho ward or something, in the story. The entire time I was reading, he exhausted me but amused me just the same. He thought too much and hated every single thing so badly it depresed him minute by minute. The mere thought of ducks or nuns or fish frozen in the lake aggravated him, for goodness' sakes.

Anyway, to quit boring you, finally, all I'm driving at is life gets too hard on people who think too much, like Holden. Like me. So I better quit it before I end up in some psychoanalyst's couch.

Hey, I'm not that mad, you know. Just enough to keep healthy sarcasm flowing and keep you less phony and corny. That kind of mad...maybe like you, I don't know. Maybe like you. (J.D. Salinger's writing is infectious, I know. Hehe.)

So much for promising myself I won't write a crazy blog for a first!

A few minutes from now, I'll be bathing my sweaty self and getting a headstart on curing procrastination. It's a disease. No kidding, it is.