Category: Nonfiction

Attack of the Night Prowling Rats, Part 2

Nonfiction by | October 9, 2011

A few weeks later, I came back to school to find that a beautiful candle given to me by my students had been attacked, its translucent wax strewn like rough diamonds all over my table, class records, and chair. They have returned. The War on Terror continues. Only the Saturday before, I had gone to school to work, and that time, all was well on my table with nary a pen or paper clip out of place. But on Monday, those rodents gave me a welcome back to work, a surprise I did not appreciate one bit.

Theories again abound. Remembering how rats are supposedly obsessed with revenge, it dawned on me that they must have known I wrote a vicious piece attacking their characters a few weeks ago! They must have heard my co-teacher and I backbiting them. Or, they could’ve heard me telling the school maintenance staff about the absolute need for their eradication.

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Attack of the Night Prowling Rats, Part 1

Nonfiction by | October 2, 2011

For over a year now, our faculty office has been plagued by a small ragtag army of ravenous rodents possessing extra-strong teeth. These rats crouch surreptitiously in the dark secret space between the ceiling and the roof during daytime, as humans scurry beneath them, ignorant of the insidious plans fermenting in those small, yet sharp and focused animal brains.

Perhaps without knowing the potential bomb of horror that would explode the next day, one of these hapless humans started eating merienda with his or her bare hands before proceeding to talk on the office phone. Using his or her contaminated fingers, this still unidentified person then moved the phone around and touched its wire. Conversation over, the person walked away, not knowing that the scent of food (and some particles) had been imprinted on the gray telephone wire.

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Cheesecloth and I

Nonfiction by | September 4, 2011

When it comes to reminiscing about one’s childhood, most people would not look back, fondly or otherwise, on the underwear they have worn over the years. But since I was never really in the category of “most people” but rather in the “weird ones,” I would like to share a few thoughts on this particular subject because it has been percolating (or more aptly: fermenting) in my mind for the past two months. 

Recently, a friend posted his embarrassing underwear moments on his blog site. Funny enough, while I was reading his article, all I could think of was this particular pair of undergarment that has haunted me from 4th grade, all throughout high school, and even up to now.

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The Poetic Process

Nonfiction by | August 28, 2011

“Spirals and spiraling, lead us to meaning. This is the poetic process.”

What is poetry? Technically, it can be defined as the art of rhythmical composition, written or spoken, for exciting pleasure by beautiful, imaginative, or elevated thoughts. To the poet who is engaged in the poetic process and wishes to define his art, not much is said by this definition. To the uninitiated, a mere reader (literally, without the attempt at an analysis) of poetry, this would suffice.

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Nang Mauso ang Cellphone at Kompyuter

Nonfiction by | July 17, 2011

Mapagkandili sa akin ang Daang Boulevard, ang lunan ng aking kamusmusan, kahit na sabihing pugad ito ng mga lumpen at maralitang tagalunsod. Kaya sa taunang pag-uwi ko ng Dabaw upang bisitahin ang mga mahal ko sa buhay, ay di ko ito nakakaligtaang dalawin tulad ng pagdalaw ko sa matatalik kong mga kaibigan. Sa muli kong pangungumusta sa kanyang mga iskinita ay nakakatawag-pansin ang mga pisikal na pagbabagong nagaganap dito. Wala na ang munting kapilya ng Inang Laging Saklolo sa dati nitong kinatatayuan, na naging saksi sa kalikutan ko at sampu ng aking mga kababata tuwing Flores de Mayo at kapistahan nito. Ang mga simpleng bahay na gawa sa kahoy kundi man iginupo nang kabulukan ay hinalinhan na ng mga konkretong gusali. Naglaho na rin ang mga hahapay-hapay na tulay na umuugnay sa mga kabahayan sa looban. Maging ang kaisa-isang malapad at lubak-lubak na kalsada na nagsilbing palaruan ng mga batang tagaroon ay pinakinis na ng aspalto at pinakitid ng pagbabago. Pakiwari ko tuloy lahat ng palatandaan ng aking kabataan ay sabay na naparam nang ako’y mangibangbayan. Inaamin kong ikinakikirot ito ng aking puso. Lalo na nang mapansin kong wala na ni isa mang laro namin noon gaya ng taguan, tumbang-preso, syatong, piko, sungka at marami pang iba ang nanatili sa hanay ng mga bagong sibol.

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The IYAS Experience

Nonfiction by | July 10, 2011

It was an April Fools’ Day when I found out that I was accepted as a fellow to the 11th IYAS Creative Writing Workshop, and therefore, though I was jubilant, I felt a pang of doubt. It could just be a nasty prank! Thankfully, the organizers would later dispel this suspicion when they called me to ask for my confirmation.

I first heard of IYAS from my kababayan Paul Gumanao, who had already been a fellow the year before. Iyas, which is Hiligaynon for “seed,” is one of the National Writers Workshops in the Philippines. It is held annually for five days in the Balay Kalinungan of the Saint La Salle University in Bacolod. Though it is funded by the NCCA, the workshop has always enjoyed the support of several La Salle schools and the continued patronage of the Palanca Hall of Fame awardee Dr. Elsa M. Coscolluela.

The 11th workshop was to run from the 25th to the 29th of April, with a welcoming dinner on the 24th and a tour around the city on the 30th.

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Big Sister

Nonfiction by | May 8, 2011

When Gertrude phoned me that I was to say something nice about my sister-her mother-I protested, not because I had nothing nice to say, but because I had too many.

“No, no, Gertrude, please. Huwag mo akong bigyan ng trabaho na nakakanerbiyos, please lang. Pwede ba magpaseksi na lang ako?”

“Auntie,” Gertrude scolded. “Multi-award ka na sa kaseksihan. I want the guests to see your inner beauty.”

I insisted, “Ikaw na lang ang mag-display ng inner beauty na minana mo sa akin.”

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Turning Eighty

Nonfiction by | May 8, 2011

A warm surge of love and gratitude wells up from my being as I realize that these rejoicing and celebration are happening on my behalf. Never have I been the center of such attention. Never in my wild imaginings have I received tribute so salutary that I can hardly believe it is for me. Thank you, dear sisters mine! As you spoke about this wonderful character to this captive audience, revealing her wisdom, integrity, and goodness, I could not believe such an ideal creature could exist! Well, apparently, she does! And she is me! And I am she! I want to believe this. Really, I do! Let this be the magic moment when it all comes true!

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