If i was able to grow beard and matching side burns to go along, I would have had. But I couldn't; I palpitated by the sight of aggresive people fetching their baggages, squeezing their grown bodies into mine, a somewhat indication that I was still insubstantial (or looked like one) even to my home country which, over the years, evolved somewhat foreign and questionable to me. Surrounded with the most impatient people I'll ever encounter in my life, I watched the moving machine intently, almost gave me a squeezy feeling and constricted lungs. Boxes after boxes came along and similar baggages anyone would have thought all these filipinos planned to buy the same red ones to abominate my pea-head brain and make me even confuse as if I was not terrified for my life already. When I unboarded Philippines Airlines, with heavy eye lids that is, I thought I wouldn't be able to exit the new territory. I went along with the flow, followed two old couples, down the stairs and more stairs (where the hell are them elevators! My carry on was freakin heavy), and alas I saw a magnificient sunrise, a sign perhaps that no matter how heavy my carry on was (as, if you were there, would also thought...I'd have had drag it to the floor), I'll get to my destination and be able to decipher my uncle from all the filipino cloned bald-headed men.

Easy was far from check out. Maybe "easy" barely came along when I finally saw a man, with all his disappearing receding hairline, waved at me from the crowd...I thought to myself, "Who the hell is that?" Of course it hit me, or so I've heard that my uncle was not picking me up but my dad and the butler, instead. After the long, grueling time I had at the "pick-up baggage" area...after my weary face was about to turn sour...after frustrated sighs were about to be heard in some hundred miles, I finally saw my poor red luggage all beaten up from the back, looking tired and pathetic. I knew I was not going to be able to carry them both and still look fashionably tired...oh I knew. And so i got me one of the big carts about, oh I don't know, a mile from I was. The one thing I truly hate about traveling (and I've only done it twice...you know, gone international) is the fact that there will always be 95% you would get lost and or loose your luggages. I am one of these people who will likely to face such unfortunate adversity. I would be fine if I was in the clouds because my mind is in the clouds, somewhere over the rainbow, away with the horizon most of the time anyway. But when it comes to being alert and tending some real world concerns I lack attention thereof.

Anyway, after asking the old lady upfront what to do next (and she said "well, sweetie, you go home now..." oh the sarcasm,), I stood up front for good 20 minutes looking for a bald man or a sign that says "Ja, WE'RE here" and an arrow pointing down. A hand wave was okay too although crazily, I thought everyone was waving that I have had looked around and see if there's anyone behind me. And sure enough there were hundreds of people looking for their own families as well.

I seriously thought I would take a taxi cab back to my uncle's house although all so sudden, I saw my dad beamed through the crowd with his glasses, a faint smile, and (even from afar) creases in his face. As he signaled me to walk towards the right, I felt the breeze that would soon accompany me for a 6 week vacation to my hometown. It wasn't bad weather, I am not use to humidity anymore like the old golden days of my childhood.

My dad and I hugged like we have had a good relationship over the years. My oldest sister was there too. She still looked the same during his post-college days of bang up reasonings and funky hairs. Even with two kids, nothing have changed for her. She still buys expensive heels--the cost could help feed a whole town for a day. My dad on the other hand looked weary as if he is already in his 70s ready to retire--from his job as a government official as well as his job being a dad, son, and to my nieces and nephew, grandfather. Jimmy was right about everything though. He encouraged me that no matter what have happened and will happen during my stay, my family would be happy to see the 'grown-up' version of the spoiled brat they used to adore and even perhaps, abhor. And I saw that reaction from the start.

Our way back to my uncle's house, both my dad and sister 'obstruct' me with mile long questions. All the what's, when, where, and why's of life, it was presented during the car ride. Of course I willingly answered their questions--out of breathe--but I answered with my weird combination of the tagalog, english, and ilocano vocabulary, nonetheless.

When I get off the car and be reminded of why Philippines will always have a place in my heart... I knew summer '07 was going to be somewhat idealistic: I was far from reality, far from my mom...far from the fast-pace life of California. I was, alas, going to relive what i've missed for 2 years during my melancholic days here in the States.


P.S.
It has been a year. Its weird how time flies by these days.

Labels: memory lane, unfictioned

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I was the little girl with a throbbing heart. I know they could not hear it, but my heart beats millions of a horse skip in the race track. The first time I got separated to my guardian, I thought I would stay in that place forever. I sat quitely behind my desk; the other kids have their mothers with them and I felt different that I had none. She left me for the market, she left me for a better life, she left and all I felt then was the unrecognizable melancholy of the tiniest soul. My heart kept throbbing as if it was about to burst out of my bossom. I remember cradling my chair, telling myself, like I tell myself now, that everything will be all right. I could see sympathy in her eyes; it did not let it bother me for if I did, I would have devastated their happy dispositions. Even then, I already knew what embarassment was and for some twisted reality, I did not want any of that, any of it... She told us to practice writing our name--"not outside of the lines, inside the lines," she said. My motor skills were unrefined; I wrote like our family dentist, with the slanted l's and the squiggly g's yet I've always wondered how he understood his when I could not comprehend mine. As days go by, spending my time in that little space with all the letters surrounding, danced to me like in Cartoon Network, my handwriting became more like a work of art for a 4 year old. Nobody was there to hold my hand and help me wrote my name. While the other children had tremendous help from their moms, I sat there with a throbbing heart, faced downward, concentrated on my pencil and lined paper. Although I cried my way home to my grandmother's house that hot day in June, I was happy I wrote my name without anyone's help.

Don't you wish achieving something so inadequate and making you deliriously happy was that easy again? Where is your inner child when you need it?

Photo Credit goes to me.

Labels: childhood, FICTION, inner euphoria, lost, nostalgia, unfictioned

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She felt defeated. She surrendered all her opinions away to the great unknown--beyond the suburban houses and to the setting sun as she let herself listen to the voice on the other line. The memory of Desiderata abruptly appeared in her mind along with the authority-like voice of Mr. Lazaro reading it as if she was put in a trial of life. "...listen to the ignorant because they too, have something to say" repeatedly echoed in her mind. She was not about to loose all control over her senses so she moved forward and recollected herself back to earth as she truly let her bestfriend's words sinked in to her like a veil.

Darkness had over-ruled daytime for 15 minutes then, yet the cold, misty wind and the sad reality of street crimes infamous in the area did not intimidate her to "go home" and accept the fact that the once good space she had for meditation and creativity is a polluted room she can barely unwind into. She, however, made herself comfortable in the pavement near the LA bridge; she curled threefolds while tapestry of thoughts loomed above her like overwhelming curtains in a very tiny stretch. Her soul and heart agreed: she did not do any heartache provoking yet issues still obstructed her persona. Thus, a war between her right and the anonymous, surprising wrongs that she had cause, according to the person on the other line, abided greatly as it remained long enough for considerable casualties like the 100-year war.

As impersonal as the phone can be and distressing perhaps to talk about such deep issues over it--in between airwaves and distant miles--she thought a great deal of some "what ifs" in her mind. Like: What if she die tonight and everything is unresolved above her coffin? What if the people she had issues with will spend their lifetime holding pain, misery, irrevocably, grudges, against her? The teardrops in her wake, the dripping sound full of tingling hatred but in the end happiness as, she is alas, dead? So, she insisted that they both will spend their night resolving the issues and tackling down the cemented wall between them; for her, under the star-studded sky and the sighs of passerbys...for him in the other end of spectrum, the rush of automobiles. People put off what they can do today for tomorrow in hopes that time will be in their side but she realized that evening that nothing and no one will remain here forever. If its stress and long bickerings with her bestfriend can resolve the problems then she thought, let stress over-rule and arguements exist.

The past couple of weeks, she spent making a mile-list of the things she needed to work on, in her life. Life had been nothing but favorable. Problems blended in perfectly with the changing ways of the weather. Smiles were given now and then but the cycle of life continued to bombard her with the never-ending arrays of confusement and deep thoughts that could have poisoned her whole body. However, she continued to live day-by-day trying to connect with the people she supposedly "missed" on since she 'had spend all her time with a growing, unknowingly promising, relationship. If only they knew...

She lives for them; she constantly yearns for the love her home life fails to provide!

And there she was seated out cold, coughing and almost throwing up because her gut feeling reminded that without her bestfriend, she would not have many things to live for, besides materialistic contingencies. There were many rights to what her bestfriend was telling her although she secretly took offense for him from disregarding the fact that she has been a good friend and one that would not do anything to ruin any kind of friendships.

In the end "We're going to be fine..." was said with awkward sighs and she truly hoped that they're "going to be" so.

Labels: FICTION, friendship, unfictioned

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She felt a tug of confidence under her sleeves. It was as if she had grown 10 inches taller--everything seemed small or rather just perfect for her size. LAX, where it looked collosal ages ago then stood nothing awe-amazing but only structured weary, ambigous faces, and definitely excitements from all sorts of races like pack-sardines: there were (but not limited to) Spaniards, Americans, Filipinos--Europeans. With all the suitcases and boxes embarking upon the small scaled lobby of Bradley International airport, the once uniformed aisles of check in portals had distort itself from all the perplexed questions from passengers; and all the yelling on top of the other caused a tremendous amount of induced, an annoying reverberating echoes in anyone's ear drums.

About an hour earlier, Anna, sat side-by-side with her mother in a never-ending muteness, only an inch distance, but it seemed like they were both miles away from each other. Rushes of blood both compounded their heads: Mrs. Guitterez lost in thoughts of the breakdown earlier and Anna just wanting to get away from her mom for a little while and thought a month of vacation is all that she needed then. Of course, the summer ahead have kept Anna guessing for all the possibilities that will happen in a country almost became so foreign to her. The holiday was an immidiate decision for her side. There weren't no planning ahead, no buying goodies...password books to keep her company in an 11-hour flight. Just packed her suitcases the day after, and long after the drama, farewells from her divine friends, and her 30-minute infatuation for that rocker dude in the coach bus, she aboarded a flight going to Manila and gone for good.

"Hasta la vista..." she said quietly, smiling and looking down the Californian lights that almost seemed like stars, milky way...Christmas.

*wrote it under my mosquito nets, the first time i got to my hometown. *

Labels: fiction., unfictioned

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