Me as a writer . . .

A true little story about a Russian discovering about OUR identity. As my wrist slid on a slab of glass that is an iPad, my Russian co-worker stopped in front of me and asked what I was doing. “Oh, I’m doing a typographical artwork,” I said, “I’m writing the letter...” “Letter Y?” He didn’t let me finish, “that’s the letter Y right?” A giggle was about to come out but I was able to stop it. “It’s the letter A, silly!” He took the slab of glass and had a good look at it. “No way that’s an A.” “That’s the A for Baybayin, our writing system.” He gave it back and I shared the seat with him. “Filipinos have a writing system?” The look on his face speaks everything. It was the face of a man who seemed to discover another missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. A missing piece of world history. It was a familiar look since I started learning Baybayin. “Like those from the Chinese, Arabs, and stuff?” “Exactly.” I was fascinated for the X amount of times ever since my other foreign workers started di

You felt mother getting up from bed early in the morning. A familiar rhythm was happening outside, they tapped the roof of your house along with the puddles they made from last night. You crept your eyes open and heard the same annoying tune blasting from the television. The kind “basta’t tayo’y, magkasama...” or sometimes the upbeat “sa unang hirit unang-una ka...” but they were all the same to you. Signs you need to get up for school. But the thing you’re lying on was powerful, it’s telling you to stay. You want to agree with it, but you also have responsibilities and dreams, you can’t let yourself be seduced. The rain outside agreed with it too as if they speak the same language. “Sana walang pasok... sana walang pasok...” You may have prayed, it’s something that everyone else in the household prayed for too. You knew mother was already doing some channel surfing. ABS-CBN, GMA, DZMM... if she’s desperate, she will turn on the radio. Father wouldn’t have to worry about giving you mo

Nine years ago, I wrote a blog post about a girl who I used to love back in high school. That was in 2011 and a lot has change as of the time I’m writing this. Alias A and I graduated from high school and that’s when our paths separated. I can still remember our last interaction with each other. It was only a few days before the graduation and I asked for her wallet sized graduation photo. During those times, the company handling the photography not only offers the large, full-fledged graduation portrait, but they also give several wallet sized of them to the graduates. Some keep these photos for themselves while others write small personal letters behind them for their friends to receive. Now it’s important to know that me and A are not that close. We’re not best friends, we didn’t date ( torpe kasi ako ), and we also didn’t talk that much. She’s just one of those people who you consider as a friend because both of you share the same classroom for more than eight hours and fi