Letting Go

In preparation for my next big leap into the unknown, I've been slowly getting rid of the stuff I've accumulated during my stay here in Bangkok. I'm far from being a hoarder, but clearly my stuff just keeps on piling up nonetheless.

I still can't believe I've amassed so much shit over those years, considering I regularly threw away clothes, bags, and shoes I hardly used. I also gave some of my books away whenever I went home to Las Islas Filipinas.

Out of necessity this time, I had to be more thorough in paring everything down to the most necessary things. Or to be more precise, making sure all my possessions would fit in just one large suitcase.

Surprisingly, it's not hard to let go of my clothes and shoes. I just couldn't be bothered losing some of them. I realized I hardly wear sixty percent of my clothes anyway. Either they're way too small, too big, or have bad quality (which was mostly the case). I'm just happy to get rid of them.

There are pants for instance I haven't worn for years. I just hung them inside the closet hoping that (1) I'd wear them someday or (2) I'd lose weight. Both never happened, especially number 2, but that's another blog post.

I gave perhaps fifty percent of my unwanted clothes to some friends and colleagues, while the rest of the clothes had to be thrown away because they're not meant to be worn anyway, say, a polyester shirt (why did I buy that in the first place?).

The hardest to give away are my books. Obviously, they are of no practical use after I read them, but I collect them anyway. I like how they look. I take pride in my carefully arranged book shelf. And whenever I see one book for instance it stirs up thoughts about its contents and memories of where and when I read them.

Every time I give away a book I feel like I'm saying good bye to one of my babies (not that I actually know how it's like to be a mother, but who cares; I'm a drama queen after all). I try to match the person's interest with the book I give them so that they can be good "foster parents".

The things I'm not letting go are my travel mementos. They are by no means expensive keepsakes. Most of them are cheap cliches bought at the airport souvenir shop or some tourist market. But most likely I'd never go back to the places where I bought them, so they are irreplaceable. And of course it's the memories that count.

I have a clique of dolls from Yunnan, Hanoi, Yangon, and Seoul... they're snooty little bitches in ornate costumes and heavy make up. I have masks from Singapore and Sri Lanka watching over me while I sleep. I have cheap paintings from Kolkata, Chiang Mai, and Yangon huddled together above my bed. A quilt from Jakarta, scarves from Laos and Siem Reap, pottery from Ban Chiang, an umbrella from Yangon, etc. Gosh, there are just lots of them lying around my bedroom.

The challenge is to fit them in one suitcase, which I will banish into the darkness of the office's storeroom for the time being. I hope by the time I come back to pick them up they haven't turned to dust yet.

There's something cathartic about throwing some of my stuff away. It's a way to release things that I shouldn't own anyway. The questions I keep on asking my self are: do I really NEED any of them? do they have any practical use? can they be replaced? It turns out, I can get rid of probably eighty percent of what little possessions I have.

Favorite Things of 2011

It's that time of the year again when I list down my favorite "things"... for lack of a better term.

I really don't have a proper criteria, just that these are personal favorites from the year that's just about to end. These are the things that I felt were highlights of 2011, the things that make 2011 more memorable. (These books and films for instance didn't have to be released in 2011, but I had access to them in only 2011.)

So let's start.

My favorite film is "Dogtooth" (2009). This Greek film blew me away for its unusual depiction of parenting. It resonated with me because often I question to what extent parents should influence the "reality" that their children are exposed to. This movie has some answers that made me squirm.

My favorite documentary is "Exit Through the Gift Shop" (2010). This is one hilarious and irreverent documentary about street art, its driving forces, and how it has crept into the mainstream art market.

My favorite album is absolutely Adele's "21". I mean, haler!!! Enough said. I'm almost tempted to name Lady Gaga's "Born this Way", but I based my choice on the number of times I listened to each album, and "21" has been on loop in my computer since it was released. 

Which makes my favorite song "Someone Like You". I'm sure I'm not alone in naming it their favorite song of the year, and it's easy to understand why.

My favorite novel is "Room" (2010) by Emma Donoghue. It's very difficult to read it at times because of the horrific experience of its main characters. But it ends with a positive note, somehow. I've been recommending this novel to all my friends.

My favorite non-fiction book is "The Case for God" (2009) by renowned scholar Karen Armstrong. The book traces the history of religion (mainly the Abrahamic ones), its philosophy, and practice, and asserts that religion is transcendental and best known through practice. 

My favorite website is Piratebay. How on earth would I survive the year without this website where I get my movies and music, aber? I looooooove Piratebay! My second favorite website is Google Reader where I now read all my favorite blogs.

And my favorite blog is still "The Sartorialist". Scott Schuman's blog has evolved to featuring profiles and interviews of his subjects. But he is still consistent in his taste for classic and often times quirky fashion on the streets.

Talk about fashion, my favorite model this year is the androgynous model Andrej Pejic. Now he is the quintessential model: a chameleon. He is as good as a "male" model and as a "female" model. Truly, he represents fashion today, one that is undefinable and fearless. 

My favorite clothing brand at the moment is Uniqlo, which opened in Bangkok a few months ago. I love its basics because I'm now on a "basics" phase. It's a big plus Uniqlo is soooo affordable.

Lastly, my favorite trip of the year was my ten days in Myanmar (blog posts here and here). It's a country I've long wanted to visit and it did not disappoint. I was completely enamored of the colonial architecture in Yangon and the serenity of the beaches of Ngwe Saung. I'm definitely going back to Myanmar in 2012.

Happy New Year, my dear ten readers and thanks for still following the blog.

Shelf Life: "Room" by Emma Donoghue

I read "Room" (2010) by Emma Donoghue on the plane ride from Bangkok to Manila and I wished that flight was long enough for me to finish the book in one sitting. Right on its first few pages, "Room" has definitely the power to grab you into the world of its 5-year old narrator, Jack, whose life is contained in a tiny room he shares with his mom. Jack's naivety in the midst of horror is at once heart-warming and tragic at the same time.

The Washington Post calls it "one of the most affecting and subtly profound novels of the year", while the New York Times says it is "sophisticated in outlook and execution". "Room" was listed for a slew of citations and won the 2011 Commonwealth Writer's Prize.

Now that's a reason to give gifts this Christmas

Threesome

A wonderful addition to the small body of literature by Filipino gay men is the collection of books written by three bloggers, published by Grey Matter Publishing. The publisher, La Czarina, is a close friend. Finally, after a rather protracted process of publishing the books, they successfully launched them few weeks back (congrats, love!). My BKK-based amiga, Norlybelle, brought me and La Bubbles' copies.

The first book I read is The Chronicles of E because I've never read his blog before. I met the author, E, in BKK last April and I sheepishly confessed to him that I don't visit his blog, although two friends are avid readers.

The Chronicles of E tells the story of his crazy relationships ("Me in a relationship meant only one thing: I needed a place to stay and I need money"), drug addiction, and short stint as a boy-for-rent.

The bulk of his entries, however, focus on his journey as an HIV-positive person."I never really believed that there were a lot of people here in Manila or in the Philippines who have HIV or AIDS, so I always thought that the chances of me getting HIV was like winning a Nobel Prize."

From his initial ignorance on the real state of HIV infection in the Philippines (I learned through a friend that between January to May this year around 700 have tested HIV positive in Manila), he gives us a first-hand account of how he had to deal with being poz. He also has to go through the motions of reconciling with his family (his "evil aunt" took care of him as a child) and how he is on a path to fulfilling his dreams, which he feels is now limited because he is HIV positive.

Written as an online journal, E portrays him self as a completely imperfect character, if you may. His tone is far from preachy, nor does he claim to have found any redemption. On the contrary, just like most of us, he is a work in progress and that evolution, along with his flaws, makes the book very poignant and raw.

The second book I read is The Wet Book: Stories from the Bathhouse by McVie. His blog is far from being a stranger to me. I've been reading him for about four years now. Last year I saw McVie in a club in Manila and I was completely starstruck when I introduced my self to him.

Well, obviously I'm a McVie fan and for quite some time now I'm convinced he deserves to be published. Thank God someone finally noticed! While making up only a portion of his blog, his entries on his escapades in the bathhouses of Manila are some of his most hilarious posts. I've actually read on his blog many of the chapters in the book but it's still quite fun to go through them again.

"In the darkness of bathhouses there's a strict feeding hierarchy... [The top-feeders] are the ones who either have The Face or The Body. [The bottom-feeders] are depressing creatures cursed with unprepossessing features...", from an entry titled Animal Kingdom.

As a guy who works in advertising, McVie is definitely gifted with wit. As such, his entries always deliver a good punchline. Add to that the variety of crazy people he meets in the bathhouse, for instance a guy pitched a pyramid scheme to him after having sex.

McVie's book sent me laughing in many chapters. Aside from the entertainment value, however, the book succeeds in giving us a glimpse into the dark and mysterious corners of bathhouses, thanks to McVie who is brave enough to tell us the inside stories.

Completing the threesome is Dear Migs, Letters to the Manila Gay Guy. Migs' blog is definitely one of the most popular gay blogs in the Philippines. But because he writes on a wide array of topics, when I first heard MGG will come out as a book I was curious what part of the blog the publication will focus on.

So apparently they extracted the most popular letters sent to Migs over the years. While Migs sort of gives his advice to the letter-sender, a major percentage of the book is allocated to the comments (in the form of advices) left by MGG readers.

Following such a "democratic" approach, Dear Migs is very insightful on how the current generation of Filipino gay men think. And as I allowed my self to be quite judgmental while reading the book, my eyes were constantly rolling - clockwise and counter-clockwise - as I went through the letters and comments.

Oh the bloody drama! How Pinoy!

Divided in chapters, the book opens with a letter titled "Am I Gay?". The letter-sender, William, asks, "I'm afraid if I do become gay, I'm going to ruin my future. I'm not going to have a son, I will have to marry someone and consummate that marriage even if I'm gay. Plus, I'm Roman Catholic. The Church says homosexuality is wrong. Maybe this is the reason why I don't admit I'm gay even to my self."

That opening letter alone gives you a good glimpse into the ceaseless crisis of guilt and fear that many Filipino gay men go through. (I don't want to trivialize their problems, but those lines in the letter have been repeated way too often to be anything new to me.)

Or how about such dilemmas as "Afraid of growing old and lonely," or "Am I falling in love with him? My girlfriend doesn't mind us going out since he's her cousin," or "I'm a discreet bisexual."

There's something cliched about the letters, but sadly many can relate to the writers' issues as well. If MGG's book can help those who ask the same questions, then it is definitely helping many Filipino gay men come to terms with themselves.

The comments, meanwhile, are sometimes hilarious. To the writer of a letter that detailed his first brush with love that eventually failed, a reader said "Sister, alam mo ansarap mong batukan. Gaga, as in gaga ka talaga sa pag-ibig. Bakit mo sisirain ang buhay mo dahil lang sa isang lalaki?"

There's something sisterly/brotherly in the comments. A lot of the advices commiserated with the letter-writers, while others simply served a strong slap on the faces of the authors of letters who most need them.

Reading the three books is like having a conversation with three gay friends. E is the confused kid, McVie is the witty ate with a hearty laughter, and MGG is the amiga who dispenses advice at the tip of his fingers. The books thus give readers a casual feel, at times revealing, but always insightful. Congrats, La Czarina for a job well done!

Shelf Life: Ilustrado

When my sister visited me a couple of months ago, she gave me Ilustrado as a birthday gift. I actually requested it from her after hearing quite a bit about the novel since it won the Man Asian Literary Prize in 2008 for what was then an unpublished work.

Ilustrado finally came out this year. I have the Philippine print, but I've also seen the international edition in Kinokuniya in Bangkok.

I swear it's very rare to see Filipino books in Thailand. One time I saw a used copy of Jose Rizal's Noli Me Tangere at the Sanam Luang night market... translated to Thai no less! That was one quite proud moment for me but other than that Filipino books are hard to come by here. Well, I saw Jessica Hagedorn's Dream Jungle at B2S a little over a year ago, but that's it.

Now back to Ilustrado. The attention Miguel Syjuco's novel has brought to Philippine literature comes in no better time. I could not remember any recent Filipino book that garnered this much international attention. It has received good reviews from the New York Times, The New Yorker, and The Guardian.

But most importantly, it has piqued Filipinos' curiosity and has encouraged us to  grab a copy rather than the latest Dan Brown or Paolo Coelho (parang awa, pwede?).

This is no doubt a novel worth reading, especially for Filipinos, because it highlights the corruption of our culture by no one but ourselves. Syjuco zooms in on the alta sociedad, the upper crust of the society, their frivolities and insensitivity to the glaring poverty of the majority.

He also plays on the joke that is Philippine politics wherein a leader of a religious cult, a separatist senator, a security guard, the country's president, and a starlet collide... entertaining (perhaps distracting?) the masses to no end.

While the schizophrenia of the Filipino culture and history serves as a backdrop to this novel, the plot revolves around the main character's, also named Miguel Syjuco, search for the lost manuscript of his mentor, Crispin Salvador, who is one day found floating in the Hudson River.

Miguel flies to Manila in search for the manuscript. While he unearths the many facets of the life of Crispin, he is also pushed into confronting his past as a prodigal grandson and his halcyon days as a member of Manila's nihilistic set.

Soon enough, readers would find a story within a story within a story in a novel that is filled with overlapping narrators and point of views. Syjuco refers to newspaper articles, excerpts from a biography, blog posts replete with comments, popular jokes, and magazine interviews.

As a caveat (and possible spoiler), there's really no reason to try to string all the story lines together. The novel is made up of at once entertaining and at the same time profound parts that might not be worth summing up. The parts are better than the whole in this book's case.

For Filipino readers, many of the criticisms Syjuco fires against Filipino culture is somewhat familiar because many of the characters and events are parodies of actual people and situations. At times his observations come from an outsider's perspective, owing perhaps to the fact that Syjuco has been living away from the Philippines for years now.

If there's anything negative I can say about Ilustrado, there are many lines in the novel that I feel were just overwrought, bordering on the pretentious. I guess the writer is just overeager to show his skills, but that's my assumption.

Otherwise, the novel is an enjoyable read and, while not the best Filipino novel yet, is definitely a good addition to Philippine literature.

Shelf Life: The History of the Burgis

I meant to write this entry in time for the 112th Independence Day of Las Islas Filipinas last June 12, but I was caught up in a few things, so I'm making this pahabol entry.

Still it disturbs me that we mark our independence day on the declaration of the first Philippine republic in 1898 when in fact we were sold for a measly 20 million dollars by the Spanish to Uncle Sam, marking the start of fifty years of American colonization until it was formally granted to us in 1945.

Coincidentally, a few weeks before Independence Day, I stumbled upon a book called The History of the Burgis by Maril N. Francisco and Fe Maria Arriola (GCF Books, 1987). Burgis is the Filipino term for bourgeois and was for time used as a pejorative to describe the snootiness and crassness of the rich, nouveau riche, and even the middle class.

According to the authors, burgis as a label is both an economic condition and sensibility. A burgis lifestyle for instance can mean having disposable income for trips abroad or also a Westernized mindset that separates the burgis from the masa (masses).

The book's introduction mentioned that "[t]o understand the role of the burgis in our society, we need to take a good look at our history," after all, the burgis played a major role in the many upheavals in Philippine history. Our national hero, Jose Rizal, was clearly burgis as a member of the ilustrado class (the so-called "enlightened ones" who were educated in Europe). All of the Filipino presidents were burgis. And of course, the People Power movement that toppled Marcos was largely a middle-class revolution.

The History of the Burgis thus traces the evolution of the burgis: how they came about, their many incarnations, and their very profound impact on Philippine society (either as collaborators of the colonial governments or as instigators of change). The book has comics-style illustrations, deftly playing on the events and people that mark history, making it fun and easy to read (it's far from a hard-core history book).

What struck me most about the book is that while it was published in 1987 (fresh on the heels of the People Power revolution), and with the nearly quarter of a century since then, it is still undoubtedly relevant today. The oligarchs still rule Philippine politics and rob our country's coffers. Economic power still rests on the hands of the few. And most of the rich people continue to act blindly in the midst of glaring poverty in the cities and elsewhere.

The authors best say it: "Burgis is being removed from the realities of a developing country. It is being trapped in a First World consciousness while living in the Third World. It is ignorance and disinterest in how a nation's bounty can be shared by all of its citizens" (p. 14).

 

The Philippines remains essentially feudal and paternalistic and the sad thing about it is such system seems to persist and will continue to persist in the many generations to come. I honestly do not see our country changing for the better soon. Well, that's what a corrupt system breeds: cynicism.

While seriously treading dangerous waters here, it has crossed my mind why the Philippines is not going the direction Thailand's rural class just recently took. In fact, the income gap in the Philippines is much, much, much wider than Thailand. And maybe I can also safely imagine that corruption is way much worse in the Philippines, no?

 

I wonder if the Filipinos' relative freedom to express their political views help quell such a "revolution". In fact criticizing the government, "the system", and "the culture" has become a national past-time. Perhaps while corruption, injustice, and poverty prevail back home, we can always give a dirty finger to the bitch in Malacanang, hence, still tempering our discontent? I really don't know, but I should give that assumption much better thought.

At least with a culture that encourages criticism against the government and the elites, I still see a little bit of hope among the new generation of burgis. I noticed that there's quite a strong political consciousness among the educated class, especially in these days of easier exchange of information and views.

However, getting an example from the recent elections, the so-called "educated vote" remains right at the top, and their message failed to trickle down to the masses, thus explaining why half of the elected senators in last month's elections are movie actors. A huge gap does still exist in terms of making informed decisions (as an example) and unfortunately our dysfunctional educational system continues to fail the rest of the Filipinos.

So in the midst of all these gaps, there exists the masa and the burgis, the pesante (peasants) and the panginoong maylupa (landords), the uring manggagawa (working class) and the kapitalista (capitalists). What's obvious in the case of the Philippines is that such a system takes generations to change. Perhaps it's time we examine again the burgis in us?

Must-read: Written on the Body

Tonight I finished reading Written on the Body (1992) by Jeanette Winterson. I've read one other Winterson book in the university called The Passion and I loved that book so much I read it twice. Our teacher who assigned us that book also recommended Written on the Body and I have long been curious about it until luckily I found the novel in some second-hand bookshop.

The first page of the book is already a thing of beauty, with lines as: "You said, 'I love you.' Why is it that the most unoriginal thing we can say to one another is still the thing we long to hear?". Right there I knew I was in for a good book.

It is definitely a worthy read, mostly intriguing because the main character is nameless and is gender-less. He/she sleeps with both men and women, names of which the character mentions in many parts of the book it's sometimes hard to keep track who is whom.But at the center of his/her obsession is Louise, a married woman with whom the main character cheats (he/she is also dating someone at the same time).

I find the language beautifully languid and introspective. The character has a tendency to ramble, albeit beautifully, taking a fascination with random things against which to refer his/her romantic escapade.

The novel is about passion as much as loss, where all love affairs end. " 'You'll get over it...' It's the cliches that cause the trouble. To lose someone you love is to alter your life for ever. You don't get over it because 'it' is the person you loved. The pain stops, there are new people, but the gap never closes."

For some reason, these lines reminded me of my dad's passing away a few months ago. Since his death, I've had about four dreams in which images of him flash and ultimately I find my self crying hysterically in my dream. It always wakes me up and I could feel my heart beating very fast. I expect my self to be actually crying because in my dream I'm like seriously bawling, but I find the pillow dry.

There had been no day that I did not think of my dad. I'm sure it's pretty normal and I don't get particularly sad whenever I think of him. At this stage, I'm just proud of my dad and what he achieved and I would like to think he is fondly remembered by some people as well.

Nonetheless, I could not help feeling a sense of emptiness whenever I realize I will never see him again. I guess this is what Winterson means, that to lose someone creates a void in you no one and nothing can fill and it will remain a void forever. And I guess if that means remembering him with fondness and love, I have every reason to honor his memory everyday.

I'm still constantly concerned how my mom is coping though. I still cannot imagine what she is going through, and it does not help that there had been no opportunity for her and me to talk about what she's feeling. Luckily, she is coming to BKK for a visit, along with my sister and brother.

Call for Contributions: Unang Tikim

A close friend who is currently vying for the title Publisher Extraordinaire Ever is going full blast on his pet projects of putting into print contemporary gay writing in Las Islas Filipinas. I'm sooooo proud of the efforts he and his friends have been dedicating to this endeavor, especially because they give Filipino gay men a much-needed louder voice.

On May 1, 2010, Miss Grey will launch not one, not two, but three books written by some of the most prominent Filipino gay bloggers evah. What can be more cool than that, aber? More details about these books will be released soon, so you better watch out mga bading!

Meanwhile, please take note of the announcement below. I encourage you to click on the photo for a larger glimpse of the pecs and the bulbol peeking from the towel, but I also copied the text of the announcement.


What was it like when you first encountered malice in wonderland? Do you remember that first taste?

We are calling for creative non-fiction in Filipino or in English from Filipino men about their first sexual encounter with another man. Selected stories will be compiled into a book and will be published some time this year.

All submissions must have autobiographical basis. Selected contributors will be acknowledged (it's okay if you wish to be anonymous) and compensated. Manuscripts should not be more than five pages, double space. Deadline is April 20, 2010.

Email your contribution to:
greymatter.publishing@gmail.com


Send na ng mga entries mga kapatid sa pananampalataya!!!

Pedestrian Fashion

Look what we have here, my dear kittens. I finally snagged a copy of Facehunter (2010), Yvan Rodic's compilation of street-style photos from his sensational blog Facehunter. This follows the release of The Sartorialist's book, which I'm lucky to have as well, courtesy of Miss Lyka Bergen (happy birthday, dahling).

(Oh, remember my encounter with Yvan Rodic last year when he visited BKK?)

I've always been fascinated with street-style photography (a collection of links is found on this blog's sidebar). More than documenting the style of people from all over the world, street-style photography is also modern portraiture. The photos often express the mood and show the character of the person in front of the camera.

source: Facehunter

I look at these photos as an amalgamation of various elements the photographer captures at a given moment. Say how the subjects gaze into the lens, or how they often twist their ankle out of self-consciousness, which I always find endearingly awkward, or how they glow as light touches their faces.

There's of course their interaction with their surroundings, say in the middle of a pedestrian crossing in Manhattan, or in front of a graffiti-filled wall in London, or outside the fashion shows in Paris.

source: The Sartorialist

Now there's definitely the fashion part of it (hence, street-style). As the photographer filters through a crowd, say in a busy party, he uses an editing eye to spot that person. As such, the photos are ultimately reflections of the photographer's sense of style.

For instance, Facehunter is into the whimsy of young, irreverent urbanites. He puts the limelight on quirky fashion, at sometimes over the top or a mish-mash of contrasting garments and accessories. While The Sartorialist has an eye for classic, ageless style. He is captivated by crisp tailoring, perfect proportions, and subdued fashion. Meanwhile, Jak and Jil zooms his lens on the details such as killer heels and studded belts or bags.

source: Jak and Jil

Thanks to these bloggers, people all over the world are constantly fed with these truly inspiring images. Street-style bloggers (and fashion bloggers in general) even have become prominent fixtures in the front-rows of major fashion shows during the past two or three seasons.

This is a clear testament of the strong power street-style bloggers are wielding, at least for the moment. I suppose book deals like The Sartorialist and Facehunter are the crowning glory to the success of these street-style bloggers.

[Just a side note, Garance Dore, Tommy Ton of Jack and Jil, Yvan Rodic, and the Philippines' own Bryanboy (among a few other fashion bloggers) are in this month's American Vogue.]

Top List, 2009 Edition

I swear I had this list in my head since September and I planned to come out with my annual "top list" (for lack of a better term) last December. Obviously I did not get to do that coz I was marooned in Surigao.

I contemplated whether I should still come out with the list, after all it's already January and by now most bloggers have already released their respective lists of whatever achuchu and eklavoo.

But then I thought I should still capture my mood for 2009 in some way or another and coming out with a "top list" partly does that.

It will be an abridged list though. Whereas I used to mention my top three of this and that, I'd just go directly to my top choice for each category coz damn I'm the laziest bitch on this bank of the Chao Phraya.

Gosh, enough of the preliminaries...

Top Model: Karlie Kloss

Top Book (non-fiction): The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order (1996)
by Samuel Huntington

Top Book (fiction): Never Let Me Go (2005)
by Kazuo Ishiguro

Top Film (documentary): Burma VJ

Top Film (feature): Revolutionary Road

Top Dance Track: Single Ladies by Beyonce
(sorry Laddy Gaga, but you're a close second anyway)

Top Album: 19 by Adele

Top Trip: Las Islas Filipinas (June 2009)

Top Inspiration: Bangkok (it still is!)

Fixated

I've always been proud of being freaking normal, like I'm thisclose to boring. I mean, I would like to believe I'm not manic-depressive, schizophrenic, or antisocial.

Perhaps I have bouts of the disorders I mentioned, like you know, one second I'd feel like I'm Jacqueline Jablonski and the next second I'm Tao Okamoto (that's my version of bi-polarity).

OK, OK, I have my delusions, but tell me, who is not delusional these days, aber?

One time my colleague recommended this quiz on Facebook to test if I have some sort of a psychological disorder. And gosh, I said if it is on Facebook it must be a valid uber scientific test! So off I took the quiz, which surprisingly had about thirty items instead of the usual five questions. I thought, hmmmm, this is more scientific than I initially thought.

Just as I expected, I fell under the boringly normal category, somewhere in the middle of some freaking spectrum... EXCEPT that I have a tendency to be obsessive-compulsive.

Gasp! Finally, I have a claim to some disorder after all! How exciting is that? I would've wanted something more romantic, like I don't know, depression or schizophrenia, which would lead me to do grand works of art or saintly deeds (hello, Joan of Arc?).

Anyway, I reckoned, obsessive-compulsive is not that bad. I can live with that. So I was prompted to do a mayjay self-reflection and soul-searching to see if indeed I have patterns of OCD.

I was doing this grand self-examination while brushing my teeth and intently looking at the timer to make sure I dedicate at least thirty seconds brushing the top of my left-side lower molars before I proceed to the right-side upper molars and so on.

Tanaaaah, epiphany galore!

I checked my toothbrush holder and I saw three toothbrushes that I use everyday. The softest toothbrush in the morning, the mid-soft toothbrush after lunch, and the hard bristles for the evening.

And then I continued further on my self-examination of my supposed OCD while I carefully floss my teeth, making sure I reached the tiniest gaps in my teeth, which was followed by cleaning my tongue with these tongue cleaner thingies, and eventually finishing the whole oral ceremony with exactly fifteen seconds of gargling mouthwash to make sure I have a totally clean mouth.

Wait... I do have to run my tongue around my teeth hoping I did not miss some bits, otherwise I have to brush my teeth even more.

This whole mouth-cleaning routine consumes about twenty minutes each night that God makes. Does that qualify for OCD?

OK, OK, I am quite concerned about having order in my immediate surroundings.

Like, in my bathroom, I make sure that all the bottles of shampoo, body wash, and facial wash have to be white. I do not base the choice of shampoo for instance on whether it gives me bouncy or shiny hair. Fuck that. I just need the freaking bottle to be white to match with the body wash.

And the books on my shelves. Oh my god, where do I start? I arrange them according to size. Nothing annoys me more than a book protruding from among its shelf-mates, in which case, I have to transfer it beside a book of its size. I don't care if the books are not arranged alphabetically or by topic, I just want them neatly standing according to height.

The thing is, I'm not exactly crazy about cleanliness. Like I don't mind dust so much (like I haven't swept my floor since Thaksin was ousted from power) as long as things look neat and in order. My mind could not just be put to rest if things are out of place.

However, the obsession for order does not cut across everything. Like my closet is one big mess (God bless my closet). It's just that I demand more from my books, CDs, and bathroom stuff.

Oh, I'm also constantly crazy about the flat iron. I always think that I forgot to unplug it.

Several times I'd already be at the bus stop and I'd run back to my building, scared out of my wits that my floor is in flames just because I did not unplug the flat iron (only to find out that I did, as always). Or I'd be inside the shower and from out of nowhere I'd panic at the thought that I left the flat iron on so I'd rush outside with just bubbles covering my nipples.

One last thing, I have this obsession with pencils, pens, and notebooks. I only use my Muji pen for my Muji notebook, which I bring with me all the time. I have a notebook and a corresponding pencil beside my bed just in case I need to list something (or someone's name... hihihihihi).

Meanwhile, I love pencils. Let me say that again... I LURV PENCILS. I steal pencils from hotels where I attend meetings... just because. I don't use them though coz I have specific requirements for the ones I use.

I swear by Staedtler 2H for the notepad beside my PC. Nothing else writes on that notepad, puhlease. And then I use a Staedtler 2B for my "work notebook" coz it writes in heavy black that matches my eyes.

Oh, nothing frustrates me more than un-sharpened pencils, BTW. Show me an un-sharpened pencil and I'd die in two seconds flat. At least now you know how to kill me.

You Had Me on the First Line

My good friend Heidi, the ONE from Cagayan de Oro and not Bangkok, (blog) tagged me in a post about the first lines or sentences of her favorite books.

I really do not have a canon to call my own, which maybe I should get down to listing already for the sake of documentation. For this list I just quickly pulled out the titles of the books that first came to mind. I limit this list to novels coz they're what I mainly read (until about three years ago).

With the help of the internet (mainly Amazon.com), I was able to find the first sentences of some of my favorite books.

Hope these first lines inspire you to read the books further.

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

A story has no beginning or end; arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead.
- Graham Greene, The End of the Affair

Ten days after the war ended, my sister Laura drove a car off a bridge.
- Margaret Atwood , The Blind Assassin

It was love at first sight.
- Joseph Heller, Catch-22

My name is Kathy H.
- Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go

May in Ayemenem is a hot, brooding month.
- Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things

She hurries from the house, wearing a coat too heavy for the weather.
- Michael Cunningham, The Hours

I'm not tagging anyone. So please feel free to write your own list and share it with us.

** Edit:

Thanks Fuchsiaboy (post) and Lyka Bergen (post) for also sharing with us the first lines of your favorite books. Mga mareh, sunod na sa uso!!! Dali!!!

Yun lang.

Shelf Life: Para Kay B

The second Pinoy book I’d comment on is Para Kay B (O Kung Paano Dinevastate ng Pag-ibig ang 4 out of 5 sa Atin) by acclaimed scriptwriter Ricky Lee (see his Wikipedia entry here).

I’ve previously read only one of Lee’s books, the script-writing manual Trip to Quiapo, which, as a poor university student, I read at the National Bookstore over a two-week period.

I’m not really a big fan of Lee’s film scripts. I find them way too contrived for my taste.

I was however interested in Para Kay B because many of my friends mentioned it in Facebook and then eventually a friend who moved back to Manila gave me his copy.

This book is mainly in Tagalog and it was quite an effort for me to read it coz I hardly read Tagalog books, my mother tongue being Portuguese (I come from Brazil, remember?).

Seriously, the last Tagalog novel I read was Dekada 70 and that was like about ten years ago or something.

In the case of Para Kay B, it took me many pages before I got the hang of the language, which is really a key step because more than anything else, the most striking aspect of the book is exactly that: its language.

Lee’s use of Taglish (combination of Tagalog and English) gives the book a rather colloquial flavour and an easy fluidity.

In fact, I appreciated more how rich present-day Tagalog has become as Lee’s writing proves. A sentence in his book for instance can have Tagalog, English, and Spanish words, which is exactly how Pinoys converse these days.

As such, Lee’s writing is very accessible and goes perfectly well with his aim of making Para Kay B as widely read as possible.

In his Pahabol... “Gusto kong basahin ako ng lahat – nakasakay sa MRT, nagbabantay sa ospital, nagpaptulog ng anak. Gusto kong magkuwento sa lahat, hindi lang sa mga kapwa manunulat or mga nag-aaral ng literature.”

With that said, what is Para Kay B exactly all about?

Marketed as a novel, the book appears more like a collection of short stories... love stories in particular.

It revolves around a Writer’s (as this character was initially introduced) thesis that: “Me quota ang pag-ibig. Sa bawat limang umiibig isa lang ang magiging maligaya. Ang iba, iibig sa di sila iniibig. O iibig nang di natututo. O iibig sa wala. O di iibig kailanman.”

Five short stories about women characters are thus unravelled, and from what I can remember these were about a woman who is looking for her childhood sweetheart, an incestuous relationship, a woman who lives in a world where love does not exist, a lesbian love affair, and a woman who is mainly driven by lechery.

With such brevity, each of the characters are well fleshed out, perhaps largely because a scriptwriter like Lee should be able to conjure all these well-rounded characters.

Add to that, they are mostly laced with quirks, such as the woman who has a sharp long-term memory; another woman is preoccupied with fairness (NOT the skin color!); and a lesbian mother is bothered with having a gay son.

With this bevy of very pretty eccentric characters, each of the short stories are full of irreverent vigour that of course also tugs at the readers’ heartstrings while staying humorous in most cases.

In the story of the woman who comes from a town called Maldiaga where love does not exist, she finds her self in the real world and thinks: “Ang nakikita nya ay isang bansang ang mga mamamayan ay wala nang ginawa kundi ang ma-inlove araw araw... Ang mga kanta, ang mga libro, ang TV ay wala nang ginawa kundi turuan ang mga tao kung paano umibig.”

In another instance, the Writer realizes: “Dahil hindi mo puwedeng mahalin ang isang tao nang hindi mo minamahal ang hilaga, silangan, timog, at kanluran. Kapag nagmahal ka’y dapat mong tanggapin bawat letra ng kanyang birth certificate. Kasama na doon ang kanyang libag, utot, at bad breath.”

Lee’s book is indeed peppered with numerous witty lines that kept me nodding, giggling, sighing, and tabbing line after line after line of his prose.

There are a few forced and false notes though, such as: “So long as aware ka in the end, love is inevitably connected with ideology. What we do, even falling in love, is a political act.” Uhmmm...

Ultimately, Lee’s book is about LOVE, AMOR, PAG-IBIG... very, very, very Filipino indeed, who are quite a love-obsessed lot bordering on the extremely cheesy.

At the end of the book one of his characters realizes that: “Although he never fell in love again, he grew old with a fondness for people who fall in love, sa isang bansang hanggang sa huli ay binabaliw pa rin ng mga kuwento ng pag-ibig at pagpapaibig, sa TV man o sa tunay na buhay.

While Lee gives us these moments of brilliance, things took a wrong turn when he attempted to tie the stories of the characters together.

Here he steps into Murakami territory where the characters talk to the Writer and demand that he revises these women’s stories.

I would not put more details on how it concludes but for me that was one major low note of the book as no matter how Lee tries to make sense of the absurd he just fails.

In the end, the women become a heap of unremarkable characters. They all drown in the confusion and as a reader I have forgotten their stories altogether.

Shelf Life: Viajero

I’m proud to report that I finished two Pinoy books this month. It’s quite ironic that not until I moved here to BKK did I feel the hunger for more Pinoy literature.

I’ve even asked the Czarina of Penang ITSELF (yeah, he is going to live again in Penang for a few months) to get me Jose Rizal’s Noli Me Tanghere, which I believe every Filipino should own.

Anyway, I shall proceed to these two recent reads...

I bought Viajero: A Filipino Novel (1993) in Cebu when I went home a few months back. Its author, F. Sionil Jose is perhaps one of the biggest names in Filipino literature these days and because he writes in English he is relatively well-known in literary circles all over the world (see Wikipedia entry here).

When I was in the university I read Mass (1974) and Tree (1978). I could not remember much of the plots of both books but I remember being impressed by them that I wanted to read more of his works.

As the back-cover describes, Viajero “is a novel of history, of these islands, and their people...” covering pre-Hispanic all the way to contemporary times.

It also mentions: “The Filipino’s continuous search for social justice and moral order – a major theme in Sionil Jose’s fiction – pervades this novel”.

Indeed, Jose had an enormous task in his hand when he embarked on this book considering the extent of the time frame and the magnitude of the issues he wants to tackle. Written in only 300 plus pages, the book miserably falters under that oppressive weight.

The main character, Salvador dela Raza, is orphaned in World War II and, as a young boy, is brought to America by a GI. The novel thus covers his quest for his long-forgotten, perhaps even lost, identity and conveniently so, he does this while writing his PhD dissertation.

Thus his research brings him to Spain, Mexico, and Japan where he stumbles into age old manuscripts and diaries of some historical figures.

Interspersed in the novel, therefore, are what appear as first-hand accounts of different epochs in Philippine history, e.g. a datu in pre-Hispanic Philippines, a sailor in the height of the Galleon Trade, the freedom fighting ilustrados in Europe, an Ilocano in California during the Great Depression, etc.

Eventually, Salvador decides to go back to the Philippines after Ninoy Aquino (gasp!) tells him to do so in a dream (more gasp!). He finds himself in the midst of the People Power revolution and witnesses the squalor that was (and probably still is) the Philippines.

As a critique of the Filipino’s lack of cohesiveness, Jose’s book says a mouthful, such as: “When does a disparate people, the different tribes in different islands, finally regard themselves as one people, a nation? When does the idea of nation assume revolutionary character, i.e., the opposition to colonialism, foreign or domestic? Who, what eventually give the people that sense of oneness, of identity, which must now be expressed in political action?”

Also notable is his description of the Filipino psyche: “...they are vindictive, they do not know how to save, to produce, to innovate. They are petty, and they pride themselves in baubles which they love to show off. We are a nation of show-offs, and Imelda has captured all that is in the Filipino character – she is the epitome of the Filipino.”

I dare someone to prove the above quotes (especially the latter) are not true.

While I almost totally agree with the many observations of Jose about the Filipino’s history and character, he seemed to forget that he was writing a novel primarily. As such, the story of the main character only appears as a backdrop to Jose’s political criticism.

Salvador comes out as a rather thin character, although Jose tried to inject some pathos into him. But with so many things going on, Salvador is instead buried underneath the statements. I could hardly relate to Salvador, instead I was looking forward to what Jose would say next.

I have the feeling, therefore, that Viajero became a mere mouthpiece of Jose’s political observations under the guise of a novel. When he finished spewing all his criticisms, which are nonetheless all valid and much appreciated, he rushed to finish the story.

The second book will be covered in the next entry...