When I Don't Have the Words to Say

My hands would do their part to express what's inside.

Tao

Sari-sari ang reaksyon ng mga tao sa mundo.
Ang walang reaksyon, hindi tao.
Para naman sa mga nagbabalat-kayo-- 
Tao pa rin subalit hindi gaano.

Kape

Kapeng umuusok sa sobrang init.
Alam nang nakakapaso’y hinihigop pang pilit.
Kapag naman tuluyang lumamig ang kape,
Itatabi na lamang pagkat wala ng silbi.

Kamustahan

Kamusta na? 

How’re you? 

Years of receiving such personal inquiries made me realized that it is boring, and too unattached, to just say “I’m okay.” So, I made my answers varied and more creative:

I’m still small.

I’m hungry.

My nails are green!

I’m so excited for Christmas/Sembreak/Summer/New Year!

But really. I'm a socially awkward penguin and I'd rather be alone in my bubble 70% of the time so kindly allow me to hibernate on my own in my tiny cell.

Magic

There was a time when I believed in magic.

Magic is a process, a chance, or a phenomenon.

It’s when two people bump at each other and they like the bumping.

The bumping causes spark.

Ultimately, magic is the process of igniting spark.

This is where I derive my two theories.

Theory #1. There can be more than one magic in a lifetime.

Theory #2. The spark is not permanent.

The principle behind these theories is simple: People move on.

Not everyone who bumps each other stay together forever. They will undergo the process again with some other people. Nobody really knows just how many bumping it takes to finally be settled, be contented, and be happy. There is even no guarantee that one will find it.

The spark dies out too. Maybe not right after the separation. But sooner, later, someday, the spark will fade away. It just has to work that way.

Maybe between the two people, the spark of one dies faster than that of the other. Or it never will. But I’m sure the spark won’t be as strong as it used to. It just cannot be that strong anymore. It has to.

So, people move on, huh? How do you know that? When does that occur? I cannot quantitatively define how or when. I just know that it commences on the day that you did the things you used to do but only this time you did it differently. And your-doing-it-differently does not affect you at all.

For instance, there was Rance. His hair is as pink as mine. His eyes are as green as mine. He laughs without a sound. He sleeps with eyes open. Indeed, we are so much alike. I thought we were meant forever. I was wrong.

We decided to go separate ways. He was already a part of my system so it was hard to let go. It’s like my arms and legs are amputated. I felt helpless like that. If only I could hear my heart, I would hear the cracking sound it makes as it breaks into a thousand flakes. Maybe this is too much but my point is, it did hurt.  

But I will be fine without him. I can still be happy without him.

I cannot tell when I started feeling good without him.

I can only remember the first time that…

I prayed and he is not in it.

I drew and it’s not him.

I wrote a poem and it’s not for him.

I woke up in the morning and he’s not the first person I think of.

I sleep at night and he’s not the last thing in my mind.

I listen to that song and my chest didn’t tighten up.

I watch a game and I didn’t mind that he’s not around.

Or I watch a game and I didn’t seek for anyone in it.

I drink and he’s not by my side.

Somebody else dropped me home.

I went home alone really late and I realized that, “Hey, it’s not so bad in the dark.”

That day of the month came and I didn’t greet anyone.

I deleted a number and I didn’t regret it at all.

And though I memorize the number, I didn’t put it back.

Somebody pat me in my shoulder and I know it’s not him.

I was really down and somebody else cheered me up.

I was lost in crowd and somebody else called out for my name.

People do move on. I am almost certain of it.

Yet there was also a time when…

I kissed and realized it was different.

I hugged yet it felt a little empty.

I held hand and I became uncomfortable.

I said “I love you” and didn’t mean it.

I said “I love you” again and I felt stupid.

I promised I’ll stay forever but I know wouldn’t keep it.

I met a lot of people but I still feel alone.
I don't know if it's because I can't see hair that was as pink.
Or eyes that were as green.

I know that there was a time that I believed in magic.

But it seems magic is just for kids.

If that’s the case, I want to be a child again.

Mario the Driver

Mario is the typical guy except that he does things a little differently. He takes his bath at night to save time in the morning. He wakes up 5 minutes before his alarm clock would ring. He stores pineapples in his refrigerator but never eat them. All his socks are green. And he has an extra toe on his left foot.

Yes, Mario is a little odd. But he is just a typical guy. Why? Because like most guys, he wishes to have a wife. He has found a potential partner: Claudette. He wants to marry her.

Claudette could be a very good wife. She can cook rice within ten minutes. She can fry eight pieces of fish and wash twelve plates at the same time. Her favorite color is blue but most of her blouses are red. She could write her name legibly using both her left and right hands. Her mother bore three healthy children so it would be safe to assume that Claudette would do the same. Not that she necessarily have to bear three children. It’s just that her children ought to be healthy too.

Yes, Claudette could make a good wife. She likes Mario too. She agreed to be his girlfriend and they’ve been together for three years already. But when Mario asked her for marriage, she declined. She does not want to marry him. Not now, never.

Mario was devastated. No, he is suicidal. He calculated the time, effort, and money he invested for Claudette on the last three years of their relationship and eight months of courtship. Come to think of it, the latter is more expensive.

All this time, what was Claudette thinking? Mario is sure that he is not psychologically disturbed, not emotionally unstable, not mentally incapacitated, and nor is he socially unadjusted. Perhaps Claudette is all of these because no normal woman would reject a man like him.

Still, Mario won’t give up in finding himself a wife. He has to find an efficient and effective method to gather women. Or a method of exposing himself to them.

Finally, he found a solution: he will be a taxi driver.

It is an easy job. He will just be sitting whole day and savor the air conditioner—the one thing he lacks in his apartment. Then, he will drive around looking for some potential wife. Women will be calling out for him. If he’ll like them, he’ll let them in. He will play romantic songs while he drives them around. He will initiate some conversation too. And if he’s lucky, the women might be on their way home. He will remember their address very well.

He gave himself a deadline. One month. So many things can happen in a month. He believed that within that time, he could finally find a woman for a wife.

It’s been two months since Mario was driving a taxi. And still, no one would want to be his wife.

Earthquake

I just came home then. I walked through the rain and so, I'm half wet. I just dropped my stuffs on the floor and right away, dropped my body as well on bed.

I'm sure I fell asleep.

Then, I felt something is moving. I'm moving.

I raised my head and looked around. My pad-mate and her laptop are on my bed again.

Me: Chorok, wake me up already...

Her: You're awake already, Chorok..

Me: No, wake me up! I'm still dreaming..

She hit me on my left arm really hard..

Me: Why'd you do that? I'll get a bruise!

Her: Sorry!

She tried to massage that part.

Me: That's enough! You'll worsen it.

I sat on the bed. We looked at each other, waiting what would happen next. We're still moving.

Her: It's earthquake.

Me: I'm dizzy. Make it stop.

Her: I can't. I'm getting dizzy too.

It was suddenly gone. Then, we were moving again, harder this time.

Me: Make it stop!!

Her: How?!!

It was the strongest earthquake I've ever experienced. What a blast to start my day.