Mula kahapon hanggang ngayong gabi, ang tanging ginawa ko ay pumunta sa bahay bahay upang makikain. Ayoko nang magkunwari na sabihin na nakikipasko ako. Tanging layunin ko ang kumain ng pansit, BBQ, dinuguan at fruit salad. At bago ko makalimutan ang take home ko pa na macaroni salad na matamis at may raisins. Mag- isa ako ngayong pasko. Pinili ko kase na ipadala na lamang ang pamasahe ko sa Pilipinas sa halip na pumunta ng Florida kung saan doon nakatira ang aking mga kapatid. Siyempre, ang manunulat na ito ay dakilang OFW rin. Nakakainis kase hindi ko naman utang pero parang naging middle name ko na ang loan. Balik tayo sa paksa- ang aking paglamon sa hapag kainan ng aking mga "pamilya" dito sa Bronx. Mula umaga ay walang mintis ang text na "pumunta ka dito, dito ka kumain ng paborito mong BBQ. Isama mo ang bf mo na latino, huwag kalimutan." Hindi ko alam kung ako ang gusto nilang makita ay si Marcello na mas maganda pa sa akin o ako. Sa kabusugan ko sa fruit salad, naalala ko ang mga nagdaang pasko noong andyan pa ako sa Pilipinas. Isang panghihinayang ang dumapo dahil ang huling pasko ko sa bayan ni Aga at Charlene ay Disyembre, 2003. Kasalukuyang tinatapos ko ang aking thesis. Ang mga magulang at kamag anak ko ay nasa terrace at sinisigaw ang aking pangalan. "Lumabas ka na diyan! Maki- party ka naman." Ang sagot ko na tunog ungol ay "Sandali na lang, matatapos ko na itong pages 200- 250. Putsa naman eh! Kayo kaya mabigyan ng deadline." Best friend ko noon si Red Bull, Nestle Frapuccino at ang bawal na yosi, Pagkatapos ng 3 taon na pagiging quitter, bumalik ako dahil ang paniniwala ko ang sigarilyo ay tumutulong na mag- isip ako nang mas mabilis (Mga bata, huwag gayahin ang manunulat na ito, bad example as in bad!). Yun pala, ginagawa akong bangag kasama ni red bull. Pero natapos din ang thesis ko at goodbye kay Marlboro Lights (Gold ha). Kung maibabalik ko lang, sana ay lumabas ako at nakisalo sa aking pamilya, buhay pa ang aking lola at hindi lang isang beer ang ininom ko na inabot ng aking tatay sabay sabi ng "Ito ang anak kong magiging NYorker!" Andito na ako at sa ganitong okasyon, naiisip ko "malungkot rin talaga, may mga kaibigan ka pero iba pa rin ang kadugo," Kahit si Beauty (ang aming Dalmatian na nagkukunwaring German Sheperd) ay nami- miss ko. Gusto kong bumalik sa oras na iyon at hahagkan ko at yayakapin nang mas matagal ang aking mga magulang (kahit medyo not in good terms kami ngayon) at magmamano ako sa aking lola. (RIP lola, bantayan mo na lang ako at makigimik sa mga anghel).

Bukod pa rito, may mga bagay pa na namiss ko bigla:

1. Puto Bumbong (Lola ko naman na kabilang banger ang laging bumibili nito.)

2. Carolling ng mga bata na dala ang lata ng Nido bilang drum at siyempre ang sagot ko na "Sa bagong taon na lang"

3. Pabalik balik na mga bata na nagka- carolling

4. Ninong at Ninang (dami niyo utang ha!)

5. Mga inaanak ko (di ko na mabilang, trumiple nang napunta ako dito)

6. Barkada ko sa Bakakeng, Baguio lalo na sila Jon, Joemark, Mark at si........secret

7. Chistmas lights na kahit antena ng TV meron ang mga bahay.

8. PAROL!

9. Noche Buena at Simbang Gabi, guilty ako dito dahil noche buena lang ang natutupad ko

10. Exchange gifts ng face towel at sabon.

11. Reunions na may lechon (kasing liit ng hamster, ekonomiya ng Pinas kase eh)

12. Pagbili sa Divisoria or Baclaran ng regalo kase mura.

13. Pagbalot hanggang 3 ng umaga (Tita Liz, miss mo ako malamang dahil ako ang may job nito)

14. Ngiti ng mga bata na nakatanggap ng regalo. LALO na pag AGUINALDO!

15. Christmas cards galing sa states na nakadisplay sa sala.

16. Merry Christmas na greeting (dito kase careful kami kaya Happy Holidays ang aming sagot)

17. SANTA KLAWS na peke sa SM.

18. Pangarap na makita ang snow ng aking lola.... (okey siya Nanay pero hirap mag- shovel)

19. Shopping sa Megamall, palengke, grocery, sari sari store na background music ay "Dreaming of a White Christmas"

20. Pag -alala na sabihin ng "Happy Birthday JC! Enjoy your day, Hesus!"

  Apartment 102 

Chapter One
            Sarah walked through the rustling crowds of holiday shoppers. She was carrying two suitcases and her precious typewriter. A voice boomed from the corner of the street. Sarah stopped to look at the commotion.

"Ho ho ho! Give a penny to the homeless!" A man announced in a Santa suit which he does not do justice to. He was too emaciated to pretend like one.            

Sarah drowned in her thoughts as she always does. In just a month, she lost her job at the advertising firm, her affair with Sam, the married supervisor ended when his wife slapped her in front of a Starbucks kiosk and now she has the serious case of writer's block thus leading to bankruptcy. Her parents are of no help either.

"You are living in sin! How could you do this to us? For Christ's sake, don't you go to church anymore?"

She gave up her apartment in Brooklyn and decided to move to Bronx where apartments are cheaper. She saw the ad on the paper. Reasonable price in the meantime but she needs to share the flat with three other persons. Sarah felt pathetic as she dragged her load. Broke unemployed, major role in a scandal and worst, it is the holidays.  

Mat paced back and forth in front of the building. He carried a knapsack and a brown bag of fresh strawberries. He watched as people enter and exit the main door.

"I cannot touch that door, too many germs, will get sick, will get sick."

"I want to eat my strawberries right now, they are fresh, yes they are."

"I will call the landlord. No! He will be busy to talk to me, too busy, yeah, Mat stupid Mat!"

"I like the strawberries fresh, I need to wash them ten times, yeah, ten times. Then I need to wash my hands, don't like germs." 

"Are you entering the building dude?" Mat stared at the guy with a red shirt.

"You look like a strawberry, do you like strawberry?"  "Fuck off man!" 

 Mat felt the lowliest creature. His legs grow weary with the weight but the thought of germs o the stairs scares him. He covers his face in frustration.
"I need to wash hands." Mat kept wringing his hands as strangers passed by with odd looks.              

Yui looked at the address again. She stares at the at the subway pole. She felt the thick wad of cash in her right pocket. The crisp feel of bills thrills her. She needed to find the apartment soon and get back at the club. She has a solo act tonight and it means bigger money. She practiced her moves inside her head.

 "Shake those titties more and spread your legs!" Manny her manager scolded her. "Fuck that virgin stuff, when they stick something, you better fucking take it! Keep in mind, I have your papers. One wrong move and you're back  to your dirt country, bitch!"            

Yui opened her eyes. It has been three years already. Life has been better. She only got two beatings from Manny because of trying to hide twenty bucks in her crotch. She never tried again when he put a pistol inside her mouth. She sleeps with him too three times a week alongside with Jane or Penney. There goes the virginity thing.            

"Yui, you made it. Mama will be proud. I work in a restaurant washing dishes and now I am promoted as a waitress." She looks again at the subway pole and imagined a garden of lilies.              

Anthony looked at his watch. Three trains have passed by but still he cannot bring himself to get off the bench. He looks at a paper.

"I want a divorce from you, Anthony. It is not working out"

"But I love you so much Michelle, I will do anything, just don't leave me"

"I have not been faithful to you Anthony, while you are away. You just don't satisfy me. You know this but you are just too stupid to admit. Your fairy tale is over, I want you out of my life! You are pathetic and a loser, spineless jerk."

"I will find a third job, please Michelle. Do not do this to us."              

Anthony's eyes welled up as he put away the paper in his bag. He loved Michelle like a goddess. She met a guy in Barnes and Noble and she said he meets her needs. That was the end like all tragic love stories.            

"Anthony, you are a loser. Your wife just cheated on you yet you still yearn for her. She left you because you are pathetic." The 6 train stopped and Anthony got in and rested his head on the cold steel door.

Pot of Harry

News came out that J.K Rowling has finished the seventh book of her Harry Potter Series. I like most the Goblet of Fire and I finished reading it in just two days.  Many of my readers and friends emailed me when they learned that my book was denied of publication. Under this circumstance,  I truly felt the overwhelming support I get from my readers. My friend Shin mentioned that Rowling was turned down so many times and her work was considered trash by book companies until Oprah mentioned it on her show. Yes, the power of media really helped. I do not exactly aspire to be featured in Oprah's show much less be like Jame Frey of "A Million Little Pieces." I am still promoting the book and after the holidays, I will get an answer from the third publisher. My communication with them is not vague so I think there is still hope for "Ang New York ay Isang Isla." Perhaps, some people think that my book is just for humor but I truly believe that it somehow informed Filipinos to be smarter and more aware of how an OFW really lives and survives in a foreign land.

A friend of mine, Mary Jo has been inspired to write again and she is a talented writer too. Check out her blogs on  http://360.yahoo.com/my_bea.

It makes me feel good that inspite of my bipolar personality and macabre stained writings, I get to push people to realize the power of the pen. Just like a penis :) to a man and a brain to a woman, it is a mighty power that can persuade, encourage and intrigue humans.

Socially Irrelevant

I received two emails from two prospective publishers. My book was denied and the editors thought that it did not meet their criteria. Sad as I am, I am still hoping that the other two companies will think otherwise. However, what pisses me off "Putang Ina!" are their comment/ reasons my book was rejected. First editor said, "Your book is a good read to entertain people but it lacks in substantial information. As of now, it does not fit our criteria of social relevance. Also you used both English and Filipino in the text which makes it appear to be an informal writing. However, thank you for showing interest in acquiring our services." The second editor said, "I personally like your book, it is refreshing and it keeps the readers wanting more. Unfortunately, your book did not make the cut off of our books to be published next year. The chief editors commented that you need to make your book more formal." As I was reading the email, I found myself laughing and weirdly not disappointed. I am not sour graping but I think it is best that they do not represent my book since they do not share in the vision on why I wrote it. Mainly, it is for ALL FILIPINO especially the OFWs and soon to be OFWs to have relevant information on how to work in a foreign land. So I say to the editors, "Socially irrelevant my Ass" (I think they rejected my book since it has profanities that is not expected from a demure Filipina like me (thunder rolling!). I stand by my ground that it is relevant and the emails, messages and comments are proofs that somehow the book does help readers. I say to the second editor, each writer has a distinct style. No one can censor or dictate what is formal and informal writing. I may write like a pirate because I speak the brutal truth of how a worker like me lives and struggles in another country. It is not a story of failure but of an ongoing survival. I wanted to share these experiences in the light that others will avoid some of the pitfalls I have mentioned. As a professional pirate, I mean writer; I still replied and thanked them for their literary criticism.

Right now, I can listen more to you, my readers rather than 5 persons in a board room who has never met an OFW. Plan D, if all else fails, I will opt for self publication.

Happy Holidays!

In two straight days, I have broken two watches. Both are of high importance and value to me. They were both given by my boyfriend and I have relied on them through countless times. One is a Betty Boop watch and the other is Sigmund Freud. Just having these watches show how bipolar my personality is. I love Betty Boop same as I like the Care Bears and I love Freud as I am a believer of his psychoanalytic approach to explain human behavior. I firmly believe that we are still controlled by our Id but life, beautiful as it appears has been plagued by Ego. It is commonly known as everyday shit and we act according to what is required and expected of us. However, the lost of both watches continues to devastate me. They are not completely broken but the thing is (absurd as it may seem to you), I have formed a connection, a relationship with them. Call me a little off the handle but I am proud that I value what is given to me by others and I have the habit of baptizing my things like they are newborn babies. My boyfriend said it will be alright to ask for an exchange with Freud. I agree with him but it is not the same Freud I had. He was the only reliable "person" I counted on during these two weeks of endless poop from work. He gave me time, made it faster and guided me as I swim in the oceans of piranhas from Monday to Friday. What is the relevance of my broken watches to this piece? I am not sure yet I still continue to type for writing. Many will say, writing is therapeutic especially when one is going through a crisis. Wait a minute, my life has been made from crisis. Some resolved, others impending and most inevitable. Then writing is my drug, my crack or my "Lucy in the Sky." I judge that this piece is my most confusing to date. The author's mind is filled with endless thoughts plus the past fourteen days have been full of shit like I feel that I am constantly working in an ass community. Everyone tries to poop on you, and you try to avoid the stink but in the end, you realize that all that you believed and fought for is just pure shit. I teach because I want to make a difference alongside with having a decent pay to cover my rent and Gap expenses. I do not love children, I care with all I can offer in a day. There is a big difference. Love connotes acceptance no matter what. Caring is a step further since not all children are cute and behaved. Most in my field are snot filled vases, bruised and beaten plus hungry and behave like dogs on the street. If it is just simple love, I would have said "I love you" a million times and that child has been miraculously taught. However, caring for a child that even their parents dislike them takes more courage, effort and valuable time. I cared for my students for eight fucking years (excuse my language) and everyone of them who spent a year or two have realized that they have worth. Inspite of what they lack, they excel on what they can do. I do not accept failure and no excuses. Maybe this is the reason why I feel so bad when the institution you work for, whom you thought shared the same vision for your class is the biggest shithole. I am honestly disheartened and utterly exhausted. It is only four months that I have started another journey with 12 children (count the 4 who are illegaly in my room which total to 16 childen, sometimes 18 and usually 21 on a really bad day). I feel that I am losing a battle which I am not even supposed to be in. Somehow, I still find a flicker of hope (?) , bravery (?) and bitchiness (!) to still report for work. I guess the only thing I can do is close the door and try to fulfill the role of an educator. It may "stink" so bad outside of room 102 but I try to transport these children in a flower fragrant laced place. They just learn to their hearts' content without any unsolicitated shit from the main control room. It is enough that their beloved Ms. T will be dumped with tons of b*shit but at least she still smells like a Macy's Catalog.

What is the connection of Alanis here? Again, I have no clue. It just so happens I have her album on the player and the song, "You live, you learn" is put on continous play unconsciously by the author.

Hissy Toity Pusang Gala

Sa palagay ko, mali ang gising ko o mali ang foundation na ginamit ko kaninang umaga. Ang alam ko lang ay pumasok ako na handang magturo. Ang mga sumusunod ay bahagi ng isang hindi ko mailarawan na karanasan na naganap sa isang araw lamang.

8:15 Nasa meeting area na ang mga estudyante ko at ready na akong kumanta ng "I want to color my world Crayola." Excited ang mga bata dahil isasama ko ang pang- psych ward nilang paboritong kanta sa aking Greatest Hits Volume 2.

8: 25 Pumasok ang aking estudyante na may Down Syndrome. Itago natin siya sa pangalan na Ralph Lauren.
(background music: "Maalaala mo Kaya?")
Setyembre taon 2006
- nabigyan ako ng opisyal na listahan ng estudyante.
- binilang ko,dose, Kindergarten (naku! balik finger painting na naman ako)
- isang estudyante nagngangalang Ralph Lauren, severe/ non verbal/ has a full time health professional (ito ang mga tawag sa mga taong assigned upang siguraduhin na ligtas, kumakain nang maayos, napapalitan ang diapers at sumusuporta sa guro upang maturuan ang bata, hindi sila shadow teachers, ihalintulad na natin sila sa 24/7 na tutor ng isang bata na may special needs)
- Setyembre, nag email ako sa aking mga bossing upang linawin na may para ang batang ito at kailangan na i- follow up sa Region na ito ay nailagay na sa IEP (isang legal na dokumento)
- Setyembre, 3 linggo pa at darating na ang para
- Oktubre, umiyak na pumunta ang Nanay upang makiusap sa mga bossing ko, ang sabi sa kanya, 3- 4 na araw pa
- Nobyembre, sinabi sa akin na bago mag- thanksgiving meron na
** lahat ng nabanggit ko ay hindi natupad**
Sa pagitan ng mga pangyayari at sa loob ng halos 4 na buwan
- ako ay nakagat, nakalmot sa mukha, nasapak at naduraan
- umabot na siguro sa 80 beses na nag- follow up ako at PINAALALA sa KANILA ang kailangan na tao ni Ralph
- ang 12 na iba pang estudyante ay nakaranas na rin ng masalimuot na mga harassment galing kay Ralph Lauren
- lahat ay nakalagay sa papel at walang mintis na pinapasa ko sa opisina sa hangad na bigyang pansin ang kaso ng NAWAWALANG PARA NI RALPH LAUREN

8: 30 Nilagay si Ralph sa therapy chair, wala pang isang minuto, para siyan ahas na nakawala pero bago nito ay kamuntik na naman siya (ika- 100 na pagkakataon) na magbigti siya sa belt ng upuan

8: 32 Hinawakan si Ralph at nilagay sa paanan ko at tinangkang magturo, hindi ko na maalala ang lahat pero
- kinagat ako sa aking hintuturo
- tinadyakan si B1 at B2

8:35 ITO NA! (I had it!) PUSANG GALA! Hindi ko na kaya maghintay dahil baka sa susunod na linggo, mawawalan ako ng lisensya dahil naipit si Ralph Lauren sa Elevator dahil ang akala niya, Gates of Heaven ito

8:36 Pinakiusapan ko si Dr. Peace (aming counselor) na tingnan lamang nang 2 minuto ang klase at kailangan ko na dalhin si Ralph sa opisina.

8:37 Hinawakan ko sa kamay si Ralph (hindi ko siya kinaladkad) at masaya siyang lumakad dahil akala niya ay pupunta kami sa Gates of Heaven

8:38 Nakarating kami sa opisina, kumatok ako at bumati "Good morning Boss! I am sorry to disturb you but my class wants to learn but right now I can't" sabay pasa si Ralph sa kanya
- wala siya sinabi, hindi galit
- lumabas ako at nagsabing "salamat Boss"

** Paglabas ko, may tumatakbong tao sa akin, "Ms. T, I was sent here by your other bossing, I will take care of Ralph today."
- sagot ko, "Ngayon na pumunta ako diretso sa opisina, saka sila magpapadala ng tao. Apat na buwan na ako naghinhintay, hindi ako galit sa iyo pero punong puno na ako." Sinabi ko ito in my sweet non condescending voice

8:40 Bumalik ako sa klase at tinuloy ang pagtuturo na parang walang nangyari

8:45 Biglang sinugod ako ni other Bossing at parang aso na pinalabas
Ang mga sumusunod ay ang pinaka G force na narinig ko
"Don't you know it's illegal to leave a child in the office unsupervised!" (iniwan ko si Ralph sa BOSS, teacher din siya at siya ang Inang Anay sa school)
"You can talk to me, I TOLD YOU ALREADY! I am taking care of it, you need to wait." (Siguro ay hanggang June 27 bago mahanap ang nawawalang para ni Ralph)
"You didn't have to THROW A HISSY FIT in the office!"

!!!!!! Ito na ang dulo ng lubid... sagot ko na lang
"You should know me better OTHER BOSS! I don't throw hissy fits, I AM THE LAST PERSON TO THROW ONE!"

Ang mga sumusunod ay naganap na sa pagitan ng 11:05 - 3:15

1. Nilagay sa papel ang nangyaring "kabastusan" at akusasyon na NAG HISSY TOITY FIT. Pusang Gala ulit!
2. Tinawag ko ang UFT (union) at sinabi ang aking kaso.
- very eager dahil patong patong na pala ang violations ng mga bossing ko kaya pandagdag bigat pa ang kaso ko
3. Pumunta ako sa other other bossing ko, sinabi ang nangyari. "I do not agree with what she did to you but I suggest that you talk to her first, if she speaks to you in the same manner, then you can go to the union" (Hindi ako sorry, ginawa ko na ito dahil hindi ko na alam kung sino ang pagkakatiwalaan ko sa school)
4. Kinausap ko si other bossing at THIS TIME, malumanay na ang kanyang boses. Kinorner ko siya sa opisina. Sinabi ko na,
"I really felt bad with what you told me this morning, It was a safety issue so I decided that it was the best thing to do. I have been following up Ralph's case but it has been four months and still he does not have a para. And with me throwing a hissy fit (sabay tigil lahat ng tao sa opisina, TSISMIS TIME!) I am the last person to do that and I am professional enough NOT TO DO THAT. In my eight years of teaching, THIS IS THE FIRST TIME THAT I BROUGHT A STUDENT TO THE OFFICE because I cannot teach because he is putting everyone in danger."

Hindi siya makahinga dahil visibly na upset ako, malumanay niyan sinabi "I did not mean that, someone just told me that you threw one"

To end this story, ano ang sinagot ko sa kanya

"So Bossing, kung may umakyat sa opisina mo at sinabing nakikipag kyungkangan ako sa loob ng classroom, paniniwalaan mo ba kaagad? You should know me better because as you said, "I should have known you better."
Tumawa na lang na parang tupa at sinabing "Ms. T, it's cool" with her G force accent. Ngiting aso na lang ako at sabay lumabas ng office.

Ang lesson na natutunan ko, WALA. Ang alam ko lang, hindi na ako papayag na akusahan ako na nag HISSY TOITY FIT, wala sa bokabularyo ko ang FIT dahil ayaw ko ng Diet. Pwede pa siguro ang bitch pero Professional Bitch. Dito sa New York, fight fire with fire and a Fit with a formal complaint.

Kagabi, pumunta ako sa baby/ adult party ng isa kong katrabaho. Hispanic siya and of course, pagbungad ko sa pinto, para akong inexport sa Sto. Domingo at Puerto Rico. Ang bilis nilang mag- espanol at ang musika ay sobrang bilis na ang naintindihan ko lang na salita ay Si. Masarap ang pagkain ng mga Hispanics, nakailang balik rin ako sa meat patties. Pero ang nakatawag pansin sa akin ay ang "bar" sa loob ng bahay. Umaapaw ang beer, whiskey, rum, vodka at tequila na nagmukha ng liquor store ang bahay. Nang tinanong ako kung ano ang gusto kong inumin, sabi ko tequila lang. Sampung tanong na ang tinirada sa akin, "How do you want it? With Soda? Juice? Shot? With Grape? With this and that?" Sagot ko na lang sa aking pagkahilo ay with orange juice. Mahirap talaga kung hindi ka marunong magsalita ng espanol dito sa New York. Ito ang pangalawang lenguahe ng mga NYorkers at feeling ko kailangan ko nang mag- hire ng interpreter. Hindi naman sila bastos at ilang tao rin ang nag- translate para sa akin. Siyempre ngiti at tawa na lang ang ginawa ko kahit hindi ko naintindihan. Magaling rin sila sumayaw ng Salsa at Merengue. Tinuruan ako ng Merengue, pasado naman pero hindi ako komportable kapag hindi ko kakilala ang kasayaw ko. Lumabas tuloy ang pagka- kawayan ng katawan ko. Dumating rin sa wakas ang isa kong kaibigan na wala ring clue sa spanish. At least may karamay na ako. Nakarelax na rin ako at nag- enjoy na rin sa party. Bago mag alas-dose, lumabas ang isang babae hawak hawak si Cuervo. Tinanong kung sino ang gusto mag shot ng Tequila. Wala pa akong sagot, may dumapo na isang shot glass, asin at lemon sa kamay ko. Nagtinginan na lang kami ng aking friend at sa bilang ng 3, sabay shot na. Ayun ang isang shot ay naging 5, naging sampu at hindi ko na mabilang. Okay lang dahil sanay ang katawan ko sa Tequila. Careful lang ako na huwag isama pa si Coors Light at baka lumabas lahat ng meat patties na nilamon ko. Hindi ko na alam kung anong oras ako hinatid ng mga kasama ko. Basta alam ko lang ay nag- enjoy ako. First hand experience ko na makasalimuha sa kanila outside ng trabaho. Language man ang barrier pero naalis ang ilan sa prejudice/ stereotyping/ judging na ginawa ko. Ngayong umaga ng Linggo, gumising ako na walang hang- over (thank you Ibufropen). Umiindak pa rin ang mga paa ko sa rythm ng music na narinig ko nang halos 6 na oras. Binuksan ko ang laptop at sinimulan na isulat ito. Sa ngayon, tama na muna ang "party animal" at balik na naman sa race track ng New York.

"Attitude Problem"

Pen Aquatic

I was rearranging and categorizing my collection of DVDs today. I was exhausted from work but it seems my mind refuses to take a break. This is a regular scenario in my life. A perfect example is when I am doing my Pilates, I am thinking of the life of Van Gogh and how displeased I am with how he was only recognized when he was six feet under. Now, let us get back to our topic which is..... my DVDs. Aside from the growing Anime collection, I noticed that I have 60 DVDs of horror such as massacres, vampires, flesh eating diseases, evil things that come to life and even a Japanese flick weirdly titled "Audition." I asked myself, "Aside from the money I spent on this stuff, what do I get from them?" Simple, I get inspiration for my writing. If Edgar Allan Poe drinks until he cannot differentiate reality from fiction, can write tales of the Black Cat and the Tell Tale Heart, why can't I indulge in my "inner sanctuary? " You may get spooked that I love vampires, werewolves, things that go up from wells, slimy, hacked body parts. To reassure you that I am quite normal, I was never diagnosed as schizophrenic or psychotic. I am just a plain eccentric writer. When I first watched "Night of the Living Dead" when I was in my elementary years, the gates of literary blood flowed through my veins. I started writing and reading like a crazed coyote. My teachers noticed that I can write about a topic upon command but there is always something peculiar about my story reports. I almost always sided with the antagonist(s) of the tale. I often pondered on the reasons that they are like that in the story. However, I know that the Catholic teachers were too prudish to confront me or they probably dismissed me as one of the "weird" ones. It has always been my pride that I never do a draft. Thoughts always flow like a river and I write down as fast as I can for fear of  losing them. During the process of my thesis writing days, I was just forced to revise it and damn, I hated it! However, my book "New York is an Island" was different, ironic because I edited and revised it 50 times (yes, I do know how to count). High school days were my latency stage. I just wrote due to requirement without too much vigor and of course under the scrutiny of my religious high school. I felt trapped and I cursed even when my papers come back with a 9 out of 10 score. I wanted to write about the craziness of the world, the angst of people and how young people like me can fall in love at the wrong place and with the wrong person. One time, I did an essay on how Rizal, our national hero made an impact on how Filipinos think. I used a term "tumatalamak" (translated as impacting/ with force). My teacher crossed it out and noted "Change your word" in red pen. I still got a high grade but I tore that paper and come to think of it, I never think highly of Rizal who was chosen by the Americans to be our national hero (no apology to the Rizalistas) but I admire Bonifacio, his being uneducated was taken against him and he was assassinated by his own supposed comrades. Okay, now where am I again? Oh! yes, the topic of how I write. In my college years, I had more freedom due to exposure to men. Before you think of anything else, I was imprisoned for four years in an all girls' high school and I did not have a single clue about them. I am eternally grateful  for being friends with an artist, a drummer, illustrator, a gay person and a soon to be priest man. I have more guy friends than women. Sometimes my boyfriend would comment that I do not act like a lady and that I have a potty mouth. I always retort that "I am prim and proper" with my fingers crossed at my back. With my thoughts of men, how their mechanism works and again being ignited by "Interview with the Vampire", I started writing like a subway train. I wrote about rebellion, depression, anger, suicide, hatred and cynical perspectives. My siblings told me that I have always been attracted to the dark side. But until now, I never drank the blood of an infant or a goat. It just so happens that I like to write the yin of things. However, I can write about the sunny and bright things of life. I was known in the University as one of the best writers of love letters. My boy friends would ask me to compose a poem for their object(s) of affection or a love letter celebrating 5th monthsary. I wrote them as if I were the one in love. One day, I found my own letter sent to me signed by an ardent suitor. I laughed it off and until this day, I do not have any attempt of accusing him of plagiarism. The first time I fell in love with a man, it was tragic and so were my poems for him. I burned them all with my young heart. It was only when I was 19 that I opened my heart again but somehow, I never got those words back. Perhaps, love has bitten me in the ass big time. My writings were my treasures but I was careless with them. I did not keep a copy since I liked giving them away to people who are interested or were "weird" as I am. In my senior year, I wrote an essay about sex for the first time. I let my professor read it and I saw her turn beet red. She said "Excellent writing! but wait until you graduate." Right then I knew, I can write with impact. I can surprise, upstage, mock, challenge and even provoke thinking among readers. 

In the film "Life Aquatic", Bill Murray was Steve Zissou who was in pursuit of "The Jaguar Shark." I love the movie aside from the fact that he is one of my favorite actors but his portrayal of a "never give up, never surrender" zeal until he met his fish; in his Belafonte, he dived into the deepest oceans to seek his final quest, I empathize with the character . I know I will write hundreds maybe thousands of essays, poems and books. I wrote two books already. One is in the field of my occupation and the other one is awaiting approval of the publisher within two months. Come what may, I will still watch flicks of splashing blood, tortured and mangled bodies and a brilliant Psychiatrist who fancies fried brains. The undead, the disfigured and Hyde stricken beings will continue to encourage me to write. As the saying goes "The Pen is Mightier than the Sword", my writings are for fencing. But not just simple fencing but samurai sword fighting like in Kill Bill Vol.1 and 2. I guess I can write the screenplay for Vol. 3.

** To jo, I hope it isn alright that I post this on the website since it will answer most questions of blog visitors who are applying to work here***