She had already dressed up, in denim shorts and black tank-top, her hair neatly tied behind her head, when she came tip-toeing down on bare feet from our little hut.

We had called it our 'first house', but it was but a little hut with fresh nipa roof, a single window, bamboo flooring, elevated foundations rising six feet (for some reason) from the sandy ground, and it had the smell of being new. We had rented it, for the duration of the entire afternoon, on the account of it being under the shade of palm trees, a woven hammock suspended between them, and having a little terrace facing the murky beaches of Buenavista. It was not Boracay, of course, far from it; its beaches are of dark sand and its waters stained with a greenish tinge.

I was sitting on a coconut log, smoking a cigarette, and was sullenly watching the lazy waves lapping the shores. Presently, she sat beside me, put her arm around my waist, caressed my wind-tossled hair, and took a drag at my cigarette. We sat silently, for a moment, like two meek crabs, and watched the calm ocean, some small fishing boats skimming the surface, clouds sluggishly drifting above, a family building a castle on the sand not far away. It was hypnotically peaceful.

"I wish it could always be like this", she whispered suddenly.

I turned to face her, intent on saying something funny, but was surprised to see that she had been crying. Perhaps embarrassed by her show of emotion, she buried her face into my neck, tore at my shirt, and suppressed her sobs. I sat there motionless, at first, unable to decide what to do. I embraced her, hesitantly, feeling that burning sensation rising in my chest. She began to mutter something through her whimpering, but was drowned by the incessant waves, the rustling of coconut leaves above, the eerie songs of the window chimes.

She needed not explain herself though. Apparent to me were the reasons for her tears, then beginning to soak through my crumpled shirt, her hot breath searing my neck. Our love, though undeclared, was... forbidden, a secret we have to keep, for though she wants to be with me—she could never leave her rich boyfriend. Love alone could not finance a college degree and a future. All the countless reasons, vague and clear, that has made it impossible for us to be together. Perhaps she indeed felt something for me—but it does not matter. I know, quite sadly, despite what she felt, we were not going to last. I sighed.

"We'll live just one day at a time", was all I could say, weakly, whatever it meant. She looked up at me, slowly, shyly, and smiled bitterly. She repeated what I said, more to herself than to me, and threw her glance far towards the ocean, her swelling eyes squinting at the blinding glare of the summer skies. I finished my cigarette and flicked it away. She stood up, laughed embarrassingly,  wiped her tears away with her shaking palms, and fixed her hair. She lit up a cigarette and tried being cheerful by childishly playing with her silvery lighter.

I fished up the bottles of beer we had buried in the beach, to keep them cool, and opened each one by one. I cannot remember how many they were but we drank them all, and it was not long until we were laughing once more; half-drunk and being preposterously loud, savoring our little moment of unhindered freedom. We ran into the beach and, pretending we were in a movie, chased each other, played silly games, kissed underwater. We soon got weary and idly stood in chest-deep water, holding each other, giggled at our jokes, watched the sun descend low on the horizon.

I cleared the beer bottles afterwards, which were scattered beneath the hammock, while she casually toweled herself. She was talking about something while I, having completed the task, searched my pants for cigarettes. She had stopped abruptly without my noticing, I was not really listening. I was lighting a stick when I noticed she was staring at me, searchingly, still toweling her hair. I blew her a kiss, along with a bluish wreath of smoke, and smiled. She whispered the three words—words that were until then still left unspoken. I contrived a smile. She went up the flimsy stairs, glancing back at me, and disappeared through the door.

I threw away my unfinished cigarette and, after a moment, followed her into our little house.

Perhaps you will be rather surprised to hear that I, having unintentionally and for no reason at all lingered into the interesting page of your pictures during my lazy frog-hopping on the internet, felt strangely devastated to find that you have found yet another person to give your supposedly numbed heart to. No, not as devastated as the day you felt it necessary to end our failing relationship, four long years ago, yet I still felt a bit... aberrant - facial flushing, some dysrhythmias, and a sudden profound depression. No, you are quite mistaken, my dear. It is not in my position, nor in my nature, to be jealous! I am merely offended.

Why offended, you ask? Well, it is clear that this four-eyed blimp of a person is clearly inferior to me, intellectually or physically. Why you have chosen him is beyond me. At least your high-school ex-boyfriend, whom you outrightly dated after we parted, could have had boasted that he is better-looking than I am, allegedly. Hah, he is well-known for making such silly claims. However, might I mention that he is hilariously funny (we've met through a friend of yours, the one you enviously refer to as 'my princess'). Yes, yes, I am sure your present gentleman friend, whom you endearingly call your 'labs' (not short for lovehandles, I hope), is very nice.

What? Why, that's not true at all. I did not go to any appalling sessions of alcohol indulgement with our common friend, nor have I openly verbalized my feelings in public, sober or drunk. That lying sack of horse manure! I sternly deny all his unfounded babbling (except that part where I shamelessly flirted with a long-haired, pretty lass). I was home and watching television last saturday, dove. Besides, as I have already told you, I gave up drinking. You must not believe everything people tell you, friend or not, specially that alcoholic buffoon.

Anyway, as I was saying, where was I? Oh yes, of course - I am certain that this concocted frivolity, this flirting, will soon end for I can see that you do not love him. Oh yes, it is merely so; and I tell you that, sad as it might, you do not love him. I can see it from the flickering of your eyes that you do not. Horrible? I am horrible? Ah, forgive me. I was simply joking. You smile. But of course I only desire your happiness, my dear, which I very much pray that you have finally found, for if not, remember that I am forever at your service. Cheers.

Oh, don't be ridiculous! I am not jealous.

I was confronted by a neighbor yesterday morning, as he was purchasing a pack of cigarettes, and told me nonchalantly that the results for the nursing board examinations were finally out. Perhaps he had expected that I already knew, and was eagerly asking me if I was one of those who passed. Unfortunately, I have busied myself with other matters quite lately that I have conveniently forgotten all about it, and for a few seconds stood staring at him completely baffled by his inquiry. Suddenly realizing the gravity of the information, I literally threw at him his cigarettes, flew into the house, and went online to check if it were true. My neighbor was right, the results were indeed out. And I passed - again.

For a few minutes, there was some compulsive jumping around and considerable howling on my part, disturbing the family dog who was sleeping in a corner. My father who was hovering threateningly over me all the time I was nervously searching the net (perhaps preparing to strangle me, or castrate me hanging in front of our house, if I had failed) looked on, smiling from ear to ear. He was probably considering the traditional "lechon", or maybe of buying me a new pair of shoes, on the account of my passing the board a second time. He phoned practically every member of our family, even all the way from Sultan Kudarat, to spread the fortunate news. Perhaps, he was as relieved as I was to finally have what the papers are calling "closure" on the board exam fiasco.

After the initial stirrings in the house, the excitement of the moment died down. I returned to manning the store, absolutely pleased with myself. Pichay, our dog, returned to her old corner, after much tail-chasing and trifling about. My father returned to watching the morning news, (perhaps) as proud as a peacock. Yes, there was immense relief. Yes, there was monumental redemption. And definitely a sense of grand achievement. Yet, I still could not help but feel anger and contempt at the shameful reasons why we, who passed the examination a year ago, should take it all over again in the first place. But that, I told myself, is not important now. After risking it all, I passed - and I'm a bloody nurse again. That is all that matters.

---

To all those who passed, my sincere congratulations.

“The only place where success comes before work is in the dictionary.” ~Donald Kendall

I spend now some few hours at this certain internet cafe, where students linger after lunch and yell and cuss at each other while playing Warcraft III, where I have spent some considerable time during the past few months, a place which I have considered a strange refuge from boredom and homesickness, before I board the ship bound for home. I think about it now, and after four months, I am overwhelmingly excited. However, I have a feeling I will miss my spot here, under the arctic breath of an airconditioner, when I have gone. I decided to write a sort of a little, perhaps, farewell to Cebu. I have not enjoyed my stay here as much as I have appreciated my previous stay, which I deemed at the time to be a liberation, for I did not see much of Cebu except that trip to that overly expensive wet party. Of course, I am not here to be a tourist but as a graduate trying to reclaim his professional license. Still, I think now, that I should have went out more since I am here. There will be more time for that, anyway, next time. This will not be my last visit. Until then, farewell Cebu. And thank you for not letting your thieving scourges set loose upon me while I walked on your streets countless times.

I was sitting quite uncomfortably in a posh parlour, a place unusual to have visitors of status such as myself, with a friend in one of Cebu's malls. Lying in front of us, on top of the polished table, lay a steaming and squirming slice of an overpriced pizza waiting to be consumed with animal ferocity for I was severely famished from walking around the expansive mall for hours. However, being in such a place of utter class, for people there eat their food with strange finesse unbecoming of Filipinos, I was inevitably infected and thus, with great reserve, ate my pizza like a refined gentleman. Certainly, if it were not socially imprudent to do so, I would have seized the italian morsel like a scampering rat and wholly put it in my mouth and decide how to chew it later.

I was in this state of 'fine dining' when a young girl, who seems to be in her teens and dressed in quiant, doily-ish attire, interrupted us by handing out an envelope printed by by proverbial letters of some christian religion. Apparently, she was asking us for donations. My friend, on the process of masticating a sizeable slice, was unable to speak and sat there looking at me and impatiently motioning me to take care of the matter. I, on the other hand, having been disturbed from satisfying my hunger, was in no gracious mood. I gave the girl some outlandish excuse for not giving and returned to my meal without another word. My friend, after a gulp of his cola, apologized to the girl, perhaps on my account. The girl, with a kind smile, said "it's okay".

I was taken aback by her response that I almost choked on my dinner. I guess I expected her to turn around silently, like all the others, however, this girl, with a surprisingly educated voice, chose to be friendly and replied in soothing tone that I wasn't, after all, an evil man. The sight of the girl, being declined from table to table (until at last a gentleman handed her some coins on her way out), made me lose my appetite quite suddenly and filled my heart with shame and pity. My eyes were on her still as she made her way through the crowd and lost sight of her as she quickly turned a corner. I finished the pizza with much less enthusiasm that was ever possible from a half-starving man. What does a mere ten-peso compare to an expensive pizza? I asked myself. And could have made a girl's sauntering around a mall on an afternoon and suffering the indignity of asking money from people perhaps, even by just a little, worth her while?

The Board examination has come and gone. I write now three days after its completion for I have not the desire to write before, during, or immediately after- for my mind has, for three grueling months of study and sequestration, has exhausted nearly all of its finite energy, desiring nothing less than a night of uninterrupted repose. I shall narrate what has transpired:

Jun 9. There was some confusion, a day before the said examination, when I visited the local office of the PRC in the morning, as to why I was not on any of the listings posted. This brought me severe apprehension for, although I deem it impossible, the thought of being denied the examination (perhaps on some foolish technical grounds, whatever it may be) is beginning to creep into my mind. Patience, however, is indeed a virtue for when I came back in the afternoon, they had posted the entirety of the listings, which included therein my name. Sigh.

June 10. I was assigned to be in the University of Cebu Main, which was located not far from where I live, and so I walked the entire way. After climbing six flights of stairs and searching through mazes of halls, I found my room. It was smaller than last year's, but sufficiently airy. At the start of the first examination, I realized that I had not taken my breakfast, and so went through the first one hundred questions agonizingly with an aching tummy. I was surprised though that after lunch, unlike last year, I was not attacked by the usual after-meal somnolence (what they termed as 'sakit sa baboy') and finished the entirety of that day's questions with unimpaired concentration.

June 11. I started the second day of the examination with sufficient rest and food, so that the day went rather quickly. There were some (as there always are, apparently) who finished oh so early, going through two remaining tests in only an hour each and seemingly with relative ease. I have been told by so many CI's in the past to ignore them for they tend to make one lose his nerves. A gentleman, who seemed to be in his early thirties, always finishes ahead of everyone, and in his face I see the look of sheer confidence, with a somewhat aloof grin that I immediately despised. My CIs were right for it took a moment get my mind out of the man's irritating countenance and regain my concentration. After the finality of the examination, I could not wait to get home and half-ran my way back to my boarding house, in white uniform and all, under the searing afternoon sun.

I felt relieved, however, that the Board examination is finally behind me, and one that I hope would not have to go through ever again. All there is left to do now is to wait for the result. I have grown to hate waiting, especially when it is something as important as this, for it would mean that I would be putting myself in a state of anxiety and suspense for weeks to come. I thought it best to put it out of my mind, and so I spend my time reading or playing computer games. However, time is of the essence, I am getting old, and I must advance forth with haste. Thus, I am at present preparing for another review: the IELTS examination at the end of this month, hoping that I would be adequately ready by then. For this I am glad, for it gives me purpose for the moment and would ease the strain on my patience.

No Surprises
by Radiohead

A heart that's full up like a landfill
A job that slowly kills you
Bruises that won't heal
You look so tired and unhappy
Bring down the government
They don't, they don't speak for us
I'll take a quiet life
A handshake of carbon monoxide

No alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises
Silent, silent

This is my final fit, my final bellyache with

No alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises please

Such a pretty house, such a pretty garden

No alarms and no surprises (let me out of here)
No alarms and no surprises (let me out of here)
No alarms and no surprises please (let me out of here)

---

I like this song, it calms me down. I'm wondering what it means though.

I have been, for the past two days, been denied of my usual comfortable seat and desk at the usual study center. It is because it is the Board examinations next Sunday and people, like myself perhaps, obviously have the same propensity to cram. But the quantity is a staggering fact, as I saw one study center to the next full to the brim. And so, the psychiatric reviewer which I have been aching so much to read, since it is where I am the weakest (especially to outlandish drug names), lay virginly unread. I have tried McDonald's, which was too noisy, and studying in our damnable little room, I found, was too depressing. Tomorrow I will try once again, and will come very early, for it is not mere seat and a desk - it is life and death.

He carefully closes his relatively expensive review book (the only book in his possession which isn' a reprint, bought in desperate need rather than mere preference) and clumsily throws the pencil across the enclosed wooden table, making a cogwheel noise as it rolled along into the company of its comrades. He sighs, long and deep, as a man who is unaccustomed to long hours of sitting, and rubs his tired eyes. He notices that his fingers were freezing from the airconditioning. He looks around, some of the other reviewees doesn't seem to mind the cold, while others were almost clad in Alaskan parkas.

He throws a hapless look towards his recent score - a 9 out of 11, which would make at least 80 percent out of a hundred. He likes to think it that way, percentages are rather easy to understand or compare. But it would probably have been different if he answered a hundred questions, his scores contently linger below 70 percent and have never really gone above that. Well, except on rare occasions  He wonders if his reviews would make any difference. He doesn't know. He hasn't the mind to answer that intimidating yellow compilation he had sitting on a shelf for two months, nor has he bothered with the pre-Board which everyone in his class look forward to with child-like apprehension. He is afraid it would depress him or frustrate him more. He has long decided, for sheer lack of time, that he would concentrate on reading and would only answer questions in the Board examination itself. He wonders if it is a bad idea.

He gets up slowly, careful not to make too much noise and disturb the other slouching figures, and turns towards the water dispenser to make himself another coffee. His friend would normally accompany him in his breaks, and would converse with him, with odd relief, things other than nursing: computers, games, politics, etc. However, his friend texted him the night before that he would be going back to Butuan to take care of his Board application, leaving him, with such unexpectation, to finish the review in his lonesome. He doesn't mind. He has, in the past, found himself of being capable of accomplishing things alone, and has found great pride in it for it establishes his so-called independence. But he would not mind, either, any company now.

He pays the cashier for the coffee and goes back to his table. His chair makes a creaking noise as he settles down his bottom. A girl, probably distracted from her reading, looks up at him. He smiles apologetically at her. She smiles briefly and returns to her reading. He sips his coffee, it was too hot, and sits it beside the cluttered pencils. Ten days, he reminds himself, ten days left and it will all be over. He takes a look at the clock on the wall, stretches his arms, and suppresses a yawn . He gingerly opens his book again and, shaking off the thoughts in his head, proceeded to read another chapter.

I was surprised during one of our review classes upon returning to Cebu that it was to be our last session. I had expected that, when it seemed that so much topics were still left undiscussed, classes would last until the last week of May. However, our classes ended that day, sometime during the second week, and what followed are days when they would make machines out of us to check the accumulated papers that once occupied a significant space in their offices. Although slightly disappointed that I would no longer enjoy the company of one of the female reviewers, I had decided not to attend the checking and endeavoured instead to finish the review by myself and at my own pace.

And so it was, in keeping to my previous resolution, that I have spent the following days (most of it anyway) inside a study center desperately cramming (it was cramming in every sense) all the knowledge I have learned for four years in college, all of which I have quickly forgotten in a year. Interspersed, of course, with occasional activities of leisure: an hour or two of internet surfing every afternoon, gym every other day, and old books on Sundays. Next week, it will shrink to just going to the gym, because I'm beginning to be alarmed at how much I still need to read for the Board examination which is terrifyingly just two weeks from now. Holy crap!

Last year, when I was in the same state of pre-examination anxiety, although I have thought of the possibility, I don't think I have ever really believed that I was going to fail. This time it's different for I had begun the review with uncertainty and with so little preparation. Even now, I doubt that I am studying in a one hundred percent efficiency, for my motivation at studying arises solely from fear of failing and not from passion of passing. Besides, three months are just not enough, not when one starts from nothing. Friends disagree, wrongfully thinking that I am intelligent, which I find rather amusing - for they don't seem to notice that I only pretend to be one. I wish now though, with utmost sincerity, that my friends were right.

I have come to realize that my parents must see my love life, having kissed dating goodbye (for the moment, at least) and having been emotionally celibate for the last three years, as being dangerously on the verge of desperation and require desperate measures. One morning, as I was fixing my computer which had acquired an infection during my absence, my father bluntly, as was his usual way, told me to get dressed as I was meeting someone - a certain girl. He had actually told me this before but I was rather skeptical about the idea. Generally, I dislike this sort of premeditated meetings, especially when everyone expects something to come out of it, simply because nothing does comes out of it.

Muttering a little objection, I left my computer alone untreated and tried to get dressed, all the while evading my mother who was curiously digging into our cabinet, apparently trying to find me some suitable clothing (What the heck?). Having intended to travel light, I have left all my pants (three of them in all) at the boardinghouse in Cebu; my brother's were simply not my size. I had no choice but to wear, and much to my parents' disapproval, a khaki short and a white shirt that was a tad too large, and a very dusty pair of sandals. I laughed to myself satisfactorily as we drove to our destination.

Honestly, I was curious as to what this 'girl' was like. After Stella and I decided to part ways years ago (well, it was mostly her decision), I had tried dating but I seem to have developed the unhealthy propensity of trying to find Stella in everyone of my dates (such futile things as mannerisms, choice of words, choice of food, even choice of shoes) and thus ultimately leading to my failure. Eventually, I gave up dating altogether partly because dating is beginning to hurt my pocket and partly because it was ineffective. And so for the last three years, I (having gotten over the 'Stella syndome') sat and waited and waited and waited. And so I ask myself, after all those years of sitting and waiting, could she be the one?

Somehow, I think I know the answer.

Our journey took us in front of this abandoned-looking lot with an abandoned-looking building. As we walked through the door of this plainly-painted rectangle block of cement (which has an emission-testing center painted in plain view), we were greeted by a man whom my father knew, and who was obviously the owner of the establishment and, quite unexpectedly, the girl's father. I was shortly introduced to her. She was sitting at a long table, looking rather unconcerned, trying to simultaneously thumb in text messages on three cellphones which she was shuffling like cards in her hands. I was so impressed by her odd display of dexterity that I was afraid of shaking her hands in fear of being shuffled myself.

I took a seat opposite her and, between intervals of her texting which was making me rather dizzy, talked about the state of our professions. Well, it was a conversation you would normally expect out of pre-arranged meetings - deliberate and contrived. However, she was nice to me. I had expected her to be arrogant and self-involved, like most well-to-do kids are. However, she was cordial and formal, so much so that it felt like a job interview. Oh yes, she is a nurse too, and we seem to be caught in the same pig's hole of the June 2006 controversy. Ah, already so much in common. Before I departed, she had offered to give me some study materials for an examination I was planning to take the next year, one which she has already taken (oh, damn it). She even asked for my number. Well, actually no - her father did.

As I walked out of the establishment and into the searing heat of noon, I found that my father had left hurriedly, and unannounced, without me. Feeling rather dejected and suddenly hungry, I trudged towards Butuan's only mall. At the same time, I thought about the conversation that had just taken place a few minutes before, the trifle details, I do that sometimes. I realized that I should have perhaps tried to ask her number, but something stopped me. And what was it all for? I tossed it out of my head eventually. I sighed and shrugged, like a someone losing a piso in a betting game. The girl with a kind smile, large expressive eyes, and skillful set of digits - well, she is, in every sense, a royalty. And I...

I am but a pauper.

I am home, yes, two days actually prior my expected arrival which surprised my mother who met her son with a motherly embrace who, having been away for a month and has spent most of his time in the company of reprinted books, indeed needed it dearly.

My sister was home too, so much earlier than I and with the same reasons as I. She has acquired, almost year ago in Manila, the employment of being responsible for many lives, all of which are encased in a metallic tube with wings gliding a few hundred feet in the sky, as an air traffic controller. She blesses us with her presence from time to time since, last of which was during Christmas, fretting about the predicament over her two lovers.

In all of queer occasions with which we have made our family reunion (for it has been long enough since we all have been under one roof in a certain span of time), we have made it at the advent of a grand Election. With all its glorious symbolism for democracy's most oustanding achievement, in reality - a time ripe with possibility of chaos, violence, and murder.

With the Board Examination, as our thoughtful reviewers often remind us reviewees, just a month away and with the surface of the seemingly bottomless topics and concepts hardly even scratched, is beginning to (despite my initially cool and unconcerned mien) make me markedly anxious. Faced with this threat and the likely possibility of my actually failing the aforementioned examination (of which I already passed, I must mention), I am forced to device changes to my daily habits and vices - thus, my so-called extra-New Year's resolution:

1. Although I will never give up working out (for the body, if not put into occasional exertion, will eventually exhaust the mind) I will, however, be giving up my nightly excursions to internet cafes and imprison myself only to my boardinghouse's cramp quarters or the freezing confines of study centers, and will remain detained therein until the examination is over.

2. I will commit myself to serious study and decidedly ignore the seduction of literature (not related to nursing), obsession for computer games (an addiction of which I thought I have outgrown, but has made a baffling comeback at the most intimely of times), temptation for movies, abstain from romantic (oftentimes lustful) daydreamings, and otiose writings (mainly blogging) .

3. Improve my grades (a direct consequence of studying hard but may be beneficial in my finding that illusive motivation, that drive; may serve as an evaluation tool whether to poison myself or not).

4. Pay more attention to the sweaty reviewer in front and avoid flirtatious conversations with young, pretty, overly perfumed, self-involved girls in kinky skirts and pink tanktops; and to fight the allurement thereafter of texting their phones in the middle of the night; or delete their phone numbers altogether (which is impossible).

5. Be more punctual (in the mornings), eliminate inexcusable absences (however, I may still have to go home next week, which is probably an exemption), and more coffee (especially in the afternoons).

I am aware of the sometimes inevitable tendencies of resolutions, but these I intend to keep, and may prove in fact not too difficult. For the consequences are too great, for if I do fail to succeed in the June Board Examination - my father, as he so calmly yet so menacingly put it, will castrate me hanging from the Mango tree in the front of our house. Hopefully, I will return blogging, a month or so from now, with my manhood still intact.

Wish me luck (I will be needing it quiet badly).

Maglalakad ako sa lugar na malayong-malayo sa hallway nang una tayong nagkita, o sa kuwarto na una kong sinabi sa'yong mahal kita, o sa lugar na nag-away tayo at iniwan mo ako, o sa hallway (ulit) kung saan hindi tayo nagpansinan. Maglalakad ako na parang walang pakialam na nakikinig lang sa aking iPod (na siguro naman ay maa-afford ko na), at doon ka lilitaw mula sa kawalan at babanggain mo ako (na parang nasa pelikula), matatapon sa daan ang mga dala mo kasama na ang iPod ko, at magagalit ka at sisigaw at magmumura.

Hihinto ka bigla, matitigilan ka dahil nakangiti lang ako, at makikilala mo ako, mapapangiti ka na parang hindi makapaniwala, at tatanungin mo kung ako nga ba iyon. Pagkatapos ay tutulungan kitang kolektahin ang mga gamit mo, lalabas tayo sa lugar na iyon, at siguro ay yayayain kitang magkape, o magyosi, o maglakad hanggang ngalayin ang mga paa natin. Magkukuwentohan tayo tungkol sa nakaraan, at malalaman mong single ako at malalaman kong single ka rin (o kahit na may anak ka pa), tatawa ka at tatawa ako, at makakalimutan mo na ako ang pinakamumuhian mong tao noong nasa college pa tayo.

Makikilala kita muli at makikilala mo ako muli, susunduin kita araw-araw, tatawagan kita gabi-gabi, at lalabas tayo every weekend (kahit na everyday), hanggang sa mahulog uli ang loob mo sa akin. Tapos magso-sorry ako sa'yo (in person na ngayon), at (siguro naman) mapapatawad mo na ako ng totohanan. Aaminin ko sa iyong mahal pa rin kita after all these years (cross my heart), at napaka-gago at napakatanga ko para hayaan kang umalis sa buhay ko, at kung paanong halos mabaliw ako sa pangungulila sa'yo; hihingi ako ng second chance, at mangangakong babawi ako sa'yo araw-araw hanggang sa ako'y uugod-ugod na sa tanda at bawian ng hininga.

Aalukin kita ng kasal, dahil doon din naman pupunta iyon at alam kong wala na akong makikita at mamahalin pang ibang tulad mo (pero siyempre willing akong maghintay), at tatanggapin mo ang alok ko, at buong-sabik mong sasabihing mahal mo rin ako, at ako ang magiging pinamasayang gago sa buong mundo. Pakakasal tayo at iimbitahin natin ang lahat ng taga-Pilipinas para malaman nila kung gaano ako kasuwerte at mamamatay sila lahat sa inggit; tapos magtatayo tayo ng malaking bahay tabing dagat, o kahit na sa gitna ng bulkan, at magpa-pamilya ng kalahating dosena, and will live happily ever after.

The end.

Bigla akong naalimpungatan dahil sa biglang tawanan ng mga puchang ka-boardmate kong nagsusugal pa rin kahit disoras na ng gabi; tahimik kong minura ang sarili ko dahil nananaginip na naman ako ng gising, kasama ang malalim na buntong-hininga dahil hindi na nga pala ako ang mahal mo at kasalo sa mga pangarap mo. Maghihilamos na lang, magtitimpla ng kape, o magyoyosi, titingala ng konti sa buwan, magtatanong kung magiging tayo pa rin kaya?; at babalik na lang sa pagbabasa ng Med-Surg, na may panlulumo, dahil kailangan ko pang pumasa ng Board.

---

A deja vu of my last year's tendencies for futile daydreaming and emotional masochism.

It was not a cold night. Not a night in Cebu ever was, rather stricken with thickness of humidity. But I was shivering, as well as my companions, inside a taxi as we headed back to the city. We were thoroughly soaked from the party, our clothes hung to our bodies, and the airconditioner incessently blasted in front of us as if it were the north winds. We sat in the back, the four of us, like quivering penguins. She was leaning forward, muttering something to her cousin who was cramped in front with another one of her cellphone-crazed friends, in such a way that the her pyjama-looking pants slid beneath and revealed the small of her back and her rather colorful panties. She is as carefree as that, or indifferent, so much like a child. I did not call her attention to it. There was no need, no was else was there to see, except for me perhaps. There were red hearts printed on it, and blue bears, and - Damn it. I closed my eyes instead, slightly tilted my head, and pretended to fall asleep. Later, I felt a gentle weight upon my chest, or half of it, and the warmth a bliss from the frigid airconditioning. She leaned back comfortably against me, and snugly nestled her head on my shoulders. Through half open eyes, I watched the streetlights outside pass by us, and the stars seem to be more brightly aglow behind the clear moonlit night sky.

I mentioned to RB (my high school buddy who is accompanying me for the review), during a lunch of siomai (again) and soggy leche flan, that I'm going home to Butuan next week to vote, on election day. This seem to be a queer thing to him, but for me and my family it's a civil and also (became) a 'spiritual' obligation. In truth, I don't care or give a shit, as it were, to politics anymore. The political scene in our nation is sick (especially in Butuan), and it's beyond help, like a cancer in its terminal stage. Like when he asked me: Mudawat ka bay? Meaning if I ever recieved bribes. He asked it in such a casual way as if he's been doing it every election. I stared at him. Of course, how naive of me.

I told him I've never considered and never will.

For all the things we have in common, RB and I, we differ in principles (like all friends I guess). He has a penchant for, like all people in our economic stature, counterfeit things. I don't. I like stuff that aren't built Chinese sindicates that break down within a month of use and is choking the life out of legitimate businesses worldwide. While my indifference to politics is borne from hopelessness, his enthusiasm for it roots from a financial point of view. He told me with fervor, as if he believed that I was going to be very interested, that there are three candidates running for mayorship - more people to give out money. For him, this would mean money for the trip back if he ever decided to go back home with me. Ha! Apparently, there are a lot of people who look forward to this.

'It's your loss if you don't take the money', he said. Come to think about it, maybe politics is not the problem. His statement said it all. People, I guess, especially when cash is pretty damn hard to come by - they become so short-sighted. It's okay to buy cheap pirated CDs, who gives a shit about the people who composed the music? It's okay to sell your votes, who gives a rat's ass what'll happen to us in four years? Or eight years? Or ten years from now? We, as a race, are bound to be doomed anyway, with all the green house gases and the impending ice age, the war, the deminishing oil reserves (which may be a good thing), the fast-disappearing forests and wildlife, right?

So I'd go home next week to vote, and no, I'm not going to sell out. I don't think it'll worth anything though. It's the same political dynasty in Butuan anyway, they're all families down there because the founding pioneers of Butuan probably got drunk one night and had one big orgy. I'd vote Hitler if he'd resurrect his Nazi ass and run for mayor, at least he was honest, I told him. RB laughed.

I was in a jeepney, trying to make my way home - with strangers, a fat lady strangling a chiken, a couple shamelessly grooming each other, and a preacher throwing a sermon upon his own imaginary crowd. He was clutching his bag to his chest, the preacher, and absent-mindedly staring at the person beside me, it seemed, and muttering about divinity and the end of days. The others were smiling, straining not to laugh, while others were indifferent, the couple just stared, as his voice rose above the sounds of people and traffic. I stepped out in front of Robinson's, beneath the traffic lights, away from faceless strangers, from overly-romantic couples, and the insane slouched figure, monotonously muttering still, between them.

I went to the PRC, early this week, to register for the Board examination. It was weird, surrendering my ID card, half of my identity. Reluctantly, I did. Through spastic hands, I did. Through gritting teeth, I did. There's no turning back now. There's, at least, the prospect for a new beginning. I always liked that phrase, 'to begin anew'. It's just up to me, I guess. Heh, I hope it's something I won't regret -because I still have that feeling, like a malignant fiend, eyeing me from somewhere.

With a purpose of not disappointing a friend, and after realizing that perhaps I'm in need of a nice break from all of the tedious studying recently, I went with her (and all of her friends) to a supposed happening somewhere in Cebu. Jamaica Night - excessively crowded, wet, and a huge disappointment. It was too bad that we came late and missed the band and the bikini show, which were the ultimate highlight and the point of ever going there in the first place. And so we just stood around, gawking at all the half-naked people, and gasping and spattering obscenities at why we went to a beach party with shirts and jeans. And while everybody was getting lucky and getting wasted, we stood around (still), fully sober (the booze are way too expensive), dripping wet, with half-opened jaws, yawning with boredom and feeling robbed (at least, I did). What a freaking way to spend money and a sleepless night!

I am intent on readying myself for the June examination, however, I feel that my mind has decayed so severely over the past month's inactivity so much so that I feel like a lumbering snail, so slow to act on what must be done. A month has passed and I have not made a dent in the gargantuan mountain of reviewers, handouts, and questionnaires, of which I must shovel everyday to pass that damnable examination. I content myself only in the thought that, when the review does start, I shall proceed forth with all ardor, and nevert waste an hour of the remaining days, and spend it in serious study. This I promise myself.

I have however, been dreading of the days when passion is spent and doubt and loneliness begin to cloud over my world, as it did during the last days of last year's review. It was so much easier then, for I have companions who were just a few blocks away, ready to lend a hand in times of difficulties. But now, I am rather, well... alone in my struggles. A position which could only be described as "sucks like the hairs on my ass!", for the lack of a better word(s). Hopefully a classmate of mine from high school, who has recently graduated from nursing and is due to take the Board this June, would come and join me in the review. Although I am sure I can do it alone (ows?), a little company would not be too bad... at all.

Sunset

Behind the golden western hills
The sun goes down, a founder'd bark,
Only a mighty sadness fills
The silence of the dark.

O twilight sad with wistful eyes,
Restore in ruth again to me
The shadow of the peace that lies
Beyond the purple sea.

The sun of my great joy goes down,
Against the paling heights afar,
Gleams out like some glad angel's crown,
A yellow evening star;

The glory from the western hills
Falls fading, spark on spark,
Only a mighty sadness fills
The spaces of the dark.

~George Charles Whitney

---

I took this picture not far from where I live. It necessitated some trespassing... but it was worth it

:-)

The topmost floor of the gym, where I happen to spend half of my days, has a clear and fantastic (not that fantastic, really, but one learns to appreciate what one has) view of the sun setting beneath Butuan City’s horizon. It is the reason why I brought my mother’s camera with me, much to her apprehension, and experimented with it, all the while sweating from a most tedious workout (I took these last weekend).


Alas! It was rather dreary that afternoon. Storm clouds gathered above and eventually swept across the horizon and smothering the sunset. Not only that, and to my ultimate dismay, it was cut in half by an imposing radio tower; and the city… well, it was quite inevitably swallowed by the crawling darkness. I took pictures of the gathering clouds too, which were, at least in my opinion, magnificient. Or not.

Ah well, better luck next time then.

I have found out upon my arrival at home that, during my absence, mother has bought a new camera. It is a rather an amazing piece of gadgetry, although not the one of my preference, however it does so well with its 8.1 megapixel. And so today, enjoying a day without the trepidation of impending boredom, I have set aside my studying for a moment and toyed with my mother's new outstanding device (for I found it impossible to resist) - thus, my dabbling attempt at photography.

If that's what I should properly call it. :-)

It's been rather dreary the past few days I've spent here. I'm trying to look forward to what I'm going to do to get through tomorrow. I've gotten tired of reading. And hell couldn't get any hotter and more humid than it is here, makes it hard to stay indoors (because my room literally becomes an oven past ten o'clock) yet what am I going to do outside? Go to a mall? Spend duldrum hours on the internet? Pay for a study center? I've done it all and still... everything seems so... boring. Kinda like a horrible premonition for the coming days, especially when the holy week comes. I can't stay here, I'm nearly at my wit's end. The review's gonna start two weeks from now anyway.

I have to go home.

Fortunately, I have a classmate who feels the same, they're reviewing for a different exam. They're taking CGFNS this July. Heh, lucky them. I couldn't say I don't envy them for I do, so much. Anyway, we agreed to buy tickets together. My classmate's a she, who also brought another she, and I ended up paying for their fares. I wonder why that is? Everytime I accompany a girl to the mall, she expects me to pay for everything. I'm not even courting. Thank God they didn't make me pay for their tickets, or I would've left them instantly. Well, they didn't so :-)

(Sigh) I'm going home on Wednesday. At least something to look forward to. I've missed my dog.

The Trapeze Swinger

The Trapeze Swinger

Please, remember me
Happily
By the rosebush laughing
With bruises on my chin
The time when
We counted every black car passing
Your house beneath the hill
And up until
Someone caught us in the kitchen
With maps, a mountain range
A piggy bank
A vision too removed to mention.

But...

Please, remember me
Fondly
I heard from someone you're still pretty
And then
They went on to say
That the pearly gates
Had some eloquent graffiti
Like "We'll meet again"
And "Fuck the man"
And "Tell my mother not to worry"
And angels with their great
Handshakes
Were always done in such a hurry.

And...

Please, remember me
At Halloween
Making fools of all the neighbors
Our faces painted white
By midnight
We'd forgotten one another
And when the morning came
I was ashamed
Only now it seems so silly
That season left the world
And then returned
And now you're lit up by the city.

So...

Please, remember me
Mistakenly
In the window of the tallest tower
Calling passers-by
But much too high
To see the empty road at happy hour
Gleam and resonate
Just like the gates
Around the holy kingdom
With words like "Lost and found"
And "Don't look down"
And "Someone save Temptation".

And...

Please, remember me
As in the dream
We had as rug-burn babies
Among the fallen trees
And fast asleep
Beside the lions and the ladies
That called you what you like
And even might
Give a gift for your behavior
A fleeting chance to see
A trapeze
Swing as high as any savior.

But...

Please, remember me
My misery
And how it lost me all I wanted
Those dogs that love the rain
And chasing trains
The colored birds above their running
In circles around the well
And where it spells
On the wall behind St. Peter
So bright with cinder gray
And spray paint
"Who the hell can see forever?"

And...

Please, remember me
Seldomly
In the car behind the carnival
My hand between your knees
You turned from me
And said, "The trapeze act was wonderful
But never meant to last"
The clown that passed
Saw me just come up with anger
When it filled with circus dogs
The parking lot
Had an element of danger.

So...

Please, remember me
Finally
And all my uphill clawing
My dear
But if I make
The pearly gates
Do my best to make a drawing
Of God and Lucifer
A boy and girl
An angel kissing on a sinner
A monkey and a man
A marching band
All around the frightened trapeze swingers.

~Iron and Wine, The Trapeze Swinger

---

I've been listening to this song a lot lately. Hmm...

Convinced, finally, that the matter of the June 2006 Board Exam fiasco isn't going to end until my hair's all gray, I decided to quit my job and take the entire examination again. What the hell, if I fail... well... I fail. But that, to me, is inconcievable. I don't believe that I would fail, not really. But there's that... hint of uncertainty, just slightly, but enough to make me scan the untouched pages of my nursing books I left lying around my room for an entire year, certainly enough for me to find myself in Cebu again, enrolled for a review, and hoping to evade the propensity for depressive episodes I found waiting for me with open arms at the port.

Alone

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

~Edgar Allan Poe