Breathing Lessons

Dead, Alive

I died five months ago. Flashes of cheap gunshots still stir my ears. Ghosts from that dreadful day of February 22 still haunt me. Every night, I dream in serene normal scenes, but I get shot in the finale. I can’t remove the blood on my hands.

                                                                                                                                 

Blood on my shirt...

Stern monster-faced man...

Hot sweat on my forehead...

A stranger’s bag on my shoulder...

                                                                                                                                    

Vivid pictures of a terrible incident changed the way I think about life. I got spared again. How many lives do I possess? Nine? I don’t know. I wrote something about cell phones several months ago - (Saying Goodbye To Dying NOKIAs). I didn’t say goodbye to that precious Nokia. It was absurd. I was predicting my fate. Something has to happen before I realize what I was scribbling.

                                                                                                                                  

It was four in the afternoon in Tomas Claudio Street in Baclaran. Everything happened in split seconds. While commuting on an FX car, I heard a suspicious guy declare a hold-up. With blurred recognition, he was about five feet four, medium built, bald, in his forties and has grumpy face. I opened my eyes and a 38mm was in front of me. He was looking at me in the eyes. He demands that I give my phone quickly. My first instinct was to fight. I was still groggy from droning that time. Instantly, I took my phone in the pocket. I threw it up front in the driver. “BOG!” I just heard the gadget hit the front mirror. I extended my left leg, moved my foot and all I could remember was I was thumping on his face. He goes out of the car. I just heard two relentless fires.

                                                                                                                        

BANG! BANG!

                                                                                                                                    

There were four people at the backseat, including the perpetrator. The holdupper fled after the gunshots, unsuccessful of his intentions. The plump guy in front of me was blank. My seatmate was covering his two knees. Four passengers next to us were stammering if they got shot. I check on myself, I was ok. I took my seatmate’s hand. It was covered in blood. I was in panic. I shouted “nearest hospital!” to the driver. With all passengers in shock, I was comforting the guy next to me. His eyes were on tears. I was telling him to just hold on. I was helpless. I opt to call Ryan. But my phone’s still missing. I yelled at the driver to hand me over the phone. He was frantically looking for it then gave it to me. Before I could make a call, we were at the San Juan De Dios Hospital along Edsa Extension. All I could hear, see and feel was tension.

                                                                                                                                

After the nerve wracking scenes, I was calmed. A tall female nurse told me that the doctor wants to talk to me. I then realized that the victim’s knapsack was on my shoulder, and his sleepers were in my hands. I handed it over to the nurse. I also asked her where I could wash my hands coated in blood. Watching blood flowing on the sink made me nauseous. Hurriedly, I composed myself. I was nearly approaching the emergency room. The patient was conscious. He handed me over his wallet and phone. “Please don’t leave me till my relative comes,” he pleaded. I assured him.

                                                                                                                         

From the personal things that were surrendered to me, I opened his wallet and checked on his IDs. I felt shivers when I got to know the details about my human shield, my accidental “angel.” The stray bullets were specifically meant for me. He caught it for me – on his two knees. The guy’s name was Nick. He is 27 years old, married with two kids, and works for a Chinese restaurant in Binondo. He told me to call his employer and not her wife. She might get shocked. Later on, I was taking to a Chinoy on his cell phone. The voice in crooked Tagalog told me that two men are coming to take care of things.

                                                                                                                                 

Nick was already calmed. He was thanking me for being there. I’m still in guilt and still speechless. He said that I should have given the phone to that scum. When Ryan came, he reprimanded me that he could buy a dozen of phones but not a single life. But still, Nick didn’t blame me for his fate. He didn't know that he saved me. Later on, his co-workers arrived. I gave them almost all my money in my pocket because I could see that Nick’s wallet only contained a hundred. Mixed emotions loaded my head that day. I still died. Some part of me was lost. I’m still hanging over with guilt and “What ifs.”

                                                                                                                                 

1.     What if I gave my cell phone? Would he still fire that gun? I was crying over the guy who was attacked in Paranaque two months ago and got shot in the head. It could have been me.

2.     What if Nick helped me during the struggle? Might he have survived?

3.     What if I never knew that the other passengers inside the car were co-perpetrators? Ryan told me to stop communicating with Nick because he’s still a stranger. Nobody knows if he’s with the criminal. Uncertain of his persona, I should stay away from him. Someday, I’ll find him and express my deep gratitude.

                                                                                                                                     

Several questions still shadow my mind. Those questions make me uncertain of my second chance, third, fourth. Another chance was given to me. I’m getting older tomorrow. It’s my birthday! Probably, it would be different. I never had been so thankful that I’m alive. I still don’t know what’s in store for me. Guess I’ll be celebrating a new Rei. I am certain, something’s coming over.

Walk The Blue Mile

Today, I took a walk...

It’s down Cayco Street. Without glancing at that exact place where it all started I was pacing fast, almost running. The nuisance utility posts standing the crowded streets were giant trees in a forest. People walking past were heavy shrubs with thorns. I almost fell down from tripping into an extruded manhole that seemed to my trap. But I was spared. If that happens, I’ll be forever stacked in darkness. In some shrouded state of mind, I was lost again. This was the second time I was hiding from my emotional stunt in that place. I won’t go there again. I still don’t know if I’m shelving everything as part of history. I’m still lost. Weak and unable to let go, I’m still keeping all the colored memories. Though in some ridiculous idea, I’ll put a concrete marker in that area that’ll read: THIS IS WHERE I FOUND MY BLESSING.

Returning home, I put on my music player to my ears to set a different feel. I haven’t changed my play list for a week now. I almost do it everyday – from heavy rock to glum classical – to set different moods for each predictable day. The songs contained songs from Willie Nelson, Faith Hill, Jack Johnson, Garth Brooks, and Keith Urban – all country tunes but not a song from Shawn Colvin. Argh, five years ago, I was happy when I heard it. That sappy moment in the car, I can hear different lyrics.

                                                                        

Today I took a walk up the street

I picked my hanky that dropped

Damped with some tears

And secret thoughts were said aloud

I watched your face in the clouds

Until the clouds had blown away

And were we ever somewhere else

Who knows, it's hard to say

But I never saw blue like that before

Across the sky

Around the world

And you've given me all you have and more

And no one else has ever shown me how

To see the world the way I see it now

Oh, I, I never saw blue like that

I can't believe a week ago I was alone,

I didn't think of you

I hadn't seen you or heard you're name

But even now,

I'm so amazed

It's like a dream,

It's like a rainbow,

It's like the rain.

And some things are the way they are

And words just can't explain

But I never saw blue like that before

Across the sky

Around the world

And you've given me all you have and more

No one else has ever shown me how

To see the world the way I see it now

Oh, I, I never saw blue like that

And it feels like now,

And it feels always,

And it feels like coming home

But, I never saw blue like that before...

Antidote for Goodbyes

Tired and derailed last night, I opened the TV and spotted on late night news. Ten senators were proclaimed winners - I don’t care about them. They’ll just sit there. Say, hello senate and goodbye promises. My head ached and my body seems lifeless. I had several questions in my mind regarding the word “goodbye.” I’ve been exhausted for three days thinking of the consequences of saying farewell. In an interesting news feature, I had to grin. I’ll put the spotlight on the graduating senators. Saying goodbye was made on a jolly mode. I may be corrected, but in an exhilarated form, I still recall the parting words the outgoing senators delivered on media.

                                                                                                   

Ralph Recto: “Honey, I’m home!”

Loi Estrada: “Erap, here I come.”

Alfredo Lim: “Criminals, cooperate or evaporate because I’m back home.”

Juan Flavier: “Honey, let’s go to bed. I’m sleepy.”

                                                                                          

On the contrary, a lot of senators had some sort of bitterness leaving. There is no such thing as a jolly goodbye. That would certainly be a case of “good riddance” if we do so. It’s always gloomy but we have to move on. Some would say excuses like writing a book, goin’ farming, practicing the stacked lawyer career in motion, or simply planning or maybe avenging for the next election in three years. I had enough laugh. It’s true. We have to think of the consequences beyond our goodbyes. I’m still thinking about it. But on an ending climax, the report asked some advice for the incoming senators. I thought, it was boring though it left the beam on my face.

Franklin Drilon: “Watch your back!”

Live On, Boss

I rushed to my desktop. Browsed. Searched. Then I found this photo.

                                                                                                    

It made me nostalgic. For it was a picture of a man looking behind Makati's citiscape. I took this stolen shot of Shigeu Nozawa, my Japanese boss - when we had our last lunch together. It was the time when I told him of my future plans. He chuckled and said, "congratulations, you're leaving!" Then he bursted in laughter. So, you're trying your luck with other company, maybe you'll grow there." But I did grow in his supervision. I miss this old man. He was more of a father and a mentor than of a demanding boss. I relied and believed in his decisions. I learned a lot.

                                                                                                       

When Malou told me of Nozawa San's sudden heart attack, I was disraught. I wanted to visit him in the hospital, but she told me he's discharged. Good thing he's already recuperating. I'm hoping and praying for his fast recovery. In fact, he'll be goin back to work soon. Great people deserve to live long.

It Rained...

After days of empty heat, dry sweat, lonely shadows... life would suddenly change. It's been months since I last opened my silent blog. I missed my own words - the words that somehow complete my emptiness.

                                                                                    

I was crossing the streets of Buendia and Ayala. I saw old ghosts, then smiled at pleasant memories. I missed working in Makati and all the people and loiter spaces I left behind. Like some romantic scene in a Korean-drama, I was falling in love with the rain. It's raining again in Makati. the gloom I found before suddenly came back. Damped.

Flowing Lenses, Flaming Senses

Sometimes in a dream, you’ll go to a place quite instantly familiar you’ve never actually set foot before. Within that delusion you seem to forget all. You don’t know who you are or what you’re made of. Anyone does not possess a name. A single blink of an eye reveals three hundred sixty degrees of full undefined beauty. Unleashed definitive sensation abounds so dainty.

                                                                                       

Close your eyes... feel. Streaks of blinding lights give the impression of an ethereal ambiguity. Refined luminosity amasses providence. Rays from poles fight the power of natural radiance. Sprawling towering sanctuaries silently witness some divine takeover. Nothing is left gaily untouched with shades of auburn blonde. Faceless smiling creatures whimsically thrive whispering some haunting name. Pragmatic grey statues and fake Totem Poles chant despondent sonnets. Frozen dinosaurs, flying white horses, walking black pigeons, and talking red dandelions cover every thrusting scene in absolute norm. Food hungers for you. Everything is edible. There are oily shades and colors in the briny breeze. Concrete brick pavements proliferates steamy booze and liquors. Music and noise are synonyms. Pain produces infinite laughter. Delight is a dire sign of sadness. Induced cruelty is a symbol of compassion. Cool fire stumbles on saline water. The serene ocean fabricates murmurs and lies. Stone assemblage tainted with angst from the angry sea tells the truth. Unexplained thoughts deliberately toil results. Unsaid words surrender understanding. You’ll want to walk in that place endlessly. In that dream where for all times you yearn to plunge in, there is an unexplained fusion of aggression and elation. You always see the beseeching heavenly body gracefully go down.

                                                                                        

                                                                                           

                                                                                           

                                                                                                      

Entwine your glimmer in rhythmic beat;

Bestow caresses of unexplained heat.

Taste the brackish juice closer on range.

Lash me in bliss, cover me in orange!

Portrait Of A Jelly

“I want the fairy tale.”
- from Pretty Woman (1990) by J. F. Lawton

                                                   

                                                   

                                                      

                                                      

You’re an interesting living character I’ve seen in over a hundred desserts. With charm and feistiness, you get what you want. Within this present celluloid and glassy world everyone’s into, there’s sugariness. They would want to be like you because you are diverse. Packaged in playful shapes and quantity, in the end, you create your own. They interpret beauty. You come in different colors. From red to jade, you never ran out of shade. Sometimes, you are delicate to handle because you are prepared volatile. Once cooled, you slip away in slime without a saddle. You can easily escape the hands of time because you’re swiftly strong. You’re a free spirit. How do you keep the forces light flowing? Somehow, fate charged you with will to live a whirlwind life. All mistakes will be left un-greasy. Never lose that fortitude. Known to have the power to be soft, you don’t melt even in jolt. Even a thousand stirrings, you stand untainted. The colors will still be compact, homogenous. Just go with the loops on that web of uncertainties. Your sweetened Angels will keep you solid. They will keep you the way you have to be. You know your true savor. Amidst all trial and tribulations, I know you are supple. We can see just you in picturesque smiles but deep inside, you are reserved – preserved for the ultimate life experience. Though your dyes will slivery collage in stripes or cathedral fancy, you’re still the indispensable Jelly. You are loved.

Fire Up The Sky!

Deprived to witness some modest fireworks during the New Year’s celebration, I got my second chance. I never went to large gatherings that time. I was with friends and family at home. I just heard noises and more big explosions from neighborhood lethal fiecrackers. There were no visuals. When Ryan told me about an event of pyrotechnics display, my heart skipped. Like a child, I was jumping inside.

                                                                                    

The SM Mall of Asia Esplanade got packed with unexpected half a million visitors. It was a lovely Saturday, January the 13th evening and almost everyone in Manila is invited. The 2nd World Pyro Olympics was on its final grand presentation. It's been participated in various countries like Australia, United Kingdom, China and others. I’ve heard radio commentators whined about terrorist and security reasons surrounding the place. It wasn’t a big deal. Though mobs are venues for terrorists and stampede, it didn’t cross my mind that time. With childish eagerness, both I and my brother went with the flow. Notwithstanding the hassle on creeping on a crowd, we survived. Cars and people contend to occupy every available space on the compound. Everything was unruly and noisy. Some were gathered in picnic ambiance. Families, lovers, friends assembled in festive mood. Until something whooshing lighted up the sky. There was silence.

                                                                                          

BANG!

                                                                                    

At eight thirty, spectators applauded. The black starry skies bathed in dazzling kaleidoscope. It was better than images of meteor showers. It was like hell and heaven fighting on the dark atmosphere. Every minute was of sheer fun! With cheery delight, I was saying “Huhs and wows!” I was capturing each panorama in stills and video. There were some scenes where the fire transformed various images of flowers, symbols, and butterflies. The exhibition from China was a hit. It got all the ingredients needed for an awesome visual amusement. On the contrary, it got the People’s Choice Award. Final gigantic sparks came to an end. It was a blast. All that’s left on my face was traces of smirks. It was a twenty-five minute eye ecstasy. I had my opportunity to wish upon a star – with a Bang!

Saying Goodbye to Dying NOKIAs

Door called me awhile ago. “How are you. Are the phones in the service shop now?” I told him that I was going out for it already. We had a little chat then hang up. He tasked me two busted Nokia phones for repair at Bright Point Nokia Service Center. The N70 and N3660 had its doze of last December’s typhoon Reming fuss. It got soaked, and the rest were horrible stories to sum up. He still got hopes it'll get to operate again. Creeping out of bed to get ready for the day, I checked on the pouches where the two gadgets bare and lifeless laid. Poor damped widgets – dying. The telephone downstairs was madly ringing. I got to answer while I’m stripping from smelly clothes preparing for a shower. Hurrying my descent to the stairwell, I heard something fall off from me. Sounds of little crashes put me in fright.

                                                                                              

It was my cell phone, divided in three parts! Silly thing, the call stopped ringing. While I pick-up the slivers of my old gadget, I saw its LCD part blinking, once, twice. It halted. I was looking at someone dying. In a sad pace, I was re-constructing the pieces again. Busy with the reconfiguration, I was unconscious that the non-living object just put me to a little sadness. Anyway, it was my three-year old cellphone and I already bought a new Nokia N71 six months ago. I seldom use it now. But memories of my Nokia 3200 were refreshed.

                                                                                                

Just a stupid gadget as you will probably dub, the little object showed me something that opened my mind. Of course cellular phones are important to communication purposes. Moreover, its added features just come secondary. The radio player, camera, MMS, sex videos (oops), GPRS and other wireless services just spice-up everything. I already had a personal relationship with the device, as everybody does. You bring it everywhere just to stay connected. Today, the cellphone hysteria is one top techie hot-stuff. Unlimited video recordings could even cover your three-hour wedding ceremony. Music players on phones can store up to three gigs of space. It even gets top spots on Yahoo search engines and “grown-up Christmas lists” or birthday gifts! Yeah, we’re there but as I believed, there’s more.

                                                                                                

News on cellphone snatching and frauds covered police reports and blotters the past years. A young working professional in Makati died fighting goons from grabbing her precious communication gadget. A student was stabbed to death for stashing his Nokia from a holdupper. Well, to hell with those news – my Nokia gadget showed me that people and strangers could still be trusted. The phone was lost and returned to me three times since I bought it in mid-2004 at almost ten thousand pesos. Now, it only costs a thousand, I guess. I frequently neglected the N3200 at the office several times at the top of my desk and nobody bothered to claim it. Haha, nobody wants a cheap gadget. The most unforgettable incident was that time when I left the cellphone in a restaurant after dining with Tope and Carene. The street children were pounding at the curtain glass walls pointing on the neglected cellular device. I was wondering, the waiter did not notice anything! After recovering the gadget and thanking the kids, I received a text confirmation for a job interview. Somehow, fate would not allow a lost cellphone ruin a good job offer. There’s still the good in every bad situations.

                                                                                                   

I understand why Door or even YOU wouldn’t want to say goodbye to the “Nokias.” More than just reasons that we bought it in dainty prices or hard-earned money; we don’t want it to die like humans do. They exist as non-living things that encompasses us to an enhanced life. Even museums keep old craps - like the Mona Lisa in Louver, or the Mummies on fancy wooden cases in Egypt... because they have stories to tell. Moreover, your cellular phones have greater words to put in the picture. They are part of our own little histories. They could live forever.

Chasing Silence

Storm after storm, I’m a stupid bamboo plant wildly swaying with the wind.

                                                                                                

Ghastly gloom seems to bar my clear way when I want it so peacefully. Is it a crime to be silent? I’ve been feeding thoughts within me that “silence means everything.” Lesser words would be lesser pain. Though I have the propensity for verbosity and hyperbole when it comes to “other things,” I prefer minimalism in real life. I tend to be silent even with myself. If I talk with myself, or mumble within my mind, I’ll be some sort of idiot. This is the time when I see my hands covering the face in front of the mirror. 

                                                                                                      

Fresh from different storms both physical and emotional, from home to career and something in between - I’m still holding on. The latest destructible one was being accused of deceit. Somebody relentlessly put on painful words that pierced me. It shook me though I stand compact. I was honest to myself though I had my flaws. I done no wrong to hurt that person. I was sentenced without trial. It pushed me to stay silent. Recently, I did so much doze of talking and laughing with friends and phony phone calls but I was shallow. I am normal. Being silent and normal will not mask my ailing heart.

                                                                                                                     

I treated myself to eat out, bought myself candies, and hunted old friends to meet me. It wasn’t therapeutic. I went to malls and walked the streets of Manila to entertain myself with impressive Christmas displays. I stayed home and came hushed again. I even did movie marathons that put me on other proportions – fourth, fifth dimension. The last DVD I watched pressed some joke on me. I thought it was a comedy feel-good vintage film from Jack Nicholson. I never read it from book or film reviews. All I knew was it got raves and acclaim. “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest,” Milos Forman’s Oscar-winning film in 1975 was comically dark and foreboding. It contained literal baloneys in their quest for group recovery. I wasn’t in their characters. Even Randall McMurphy’s role played by Nicholson was so cool and relaxing that I conclude that he’s no looney. He was placed on a mental institution to be assessed emotionally because of delinquency. Argh, I didn’t like the ending though it had its vindication of bittersweet liberation. 

                                                                                                   

I’m not goin’ nuts. Maybe I’m just lost. There are lots of things in life that cannot be explained in simple words; more likely in silence. Life’s a joke right now. Daniel Wallace’s Big Fish book put on metaphors surrounding tall stories in life. “Have you ever heard of a joke so many times you’ve forgotten why it’s funny? But when you hear it suddenly it’s New. You remembered why you loved it in the first place!” I’m not gonna love my solitude right now. I will laugh when I already feel it’s funny. I’m virtually on solid ground swaying in whirling directions, wherever the storm takes me.