Thin Circles

I am not thin. I am lean and I am muscular. But I am not thin.

Unfortunately, at Ballet Philippines, everyone is thin. Correction. Has to be thin and dark. Never mind dark. But thin. I can go in circles.

June 2006, when I came to CCP, I was 168 lbs. I 've gone down to 155lbs since late last year and it hasn't changed much since. I look leaner though. My muscles are longer. My quads are more stretched. But I am still 155lbs with a size 30 waistline. I'm the heaviest albeit 2nd to the tallest in the company. And I have the biggest waistline.

My friends think I'm the thinnest thing. Especially if you knew me when I was huge. But in our world... yes, the cruel world of dance... I am not thin.

I need to lose more weight without sacrificing my strength and my desire for food, food, food. This is not easy. Well, nothing is. Being big. Being thin. Being normal. Again, I can go in circles.

Did I just lose you there?

Rock, Rock, Rock

I was in line at a fastfood chain and in front of me was a family of three. A father, a mother and their child. The mother was paying for their tab when in an irritated tone she asked for money from her son. The child didn't want to give it but he opened his palm and handed over a crumpled twenty peso bill. The kid was quite forlorn. The father found it funny. I was aghast at a mother getting her son's money. It all became clear in an instant. Apparently, the kid ripped the bill apart in his precociousness. And the mother had to ask the cashier if they would still accept a torn bill. For the fastfood chain, it wasn't a problem. For the kid, it was a bad feeling. He looked up and innocently said "Sorry, ma." The mother's demeanor turned around instantly and, in all motherly glory, she utters "It's ok, anak."

Mother's Rock!

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Last weekend, I was at Batangas with Ballet Philippines. On our second night, I joined Karla in sleeping on the beach front and under the stars on one of those long beach chairs. She was asleep two hours before I decided to join her. I fell asleep with only a sarong for a blanket. I was too tired to go back in the house and get a decent blanket and pillow for myself. Close to sunrise, I awoke and found a real blanket covering me. I didn't know who put it on me. It just felt good to have a blanket against the cold. I found out on our trip home that Karla saw me sleeping without a blanket. So she got up and got me one. Then, she went back to sleep.

Friends Rock!

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I have not been updating my blog because I am constantly at CCP for classes, rehearsals and shows. I got through Ballet Philippines' España Extension and our School's Quarterly Evaluation program in one magnificent piece as both dancer and production assistant. But after March 31, I will no longer be production assistant to concentrate on my dancing. We will be renewing our contracts as dancers soon, too. And I am praying that I will be promoted to Company member. People think it may be too soon. But, hey, I became apprentice before I expected it to happen. And I know I have what it takes. So, I am believing hard.

Dancing Rocks!

Ode

My STEPS show last Monday, Feb 19, was beautiful. And, yes, over. Finally, my Sunday and Monday's are for myself again. Well, not really. I have Sunday for church and I have to direct a holy week production. That's my commitment. Monday is mine.

I don't post my poetry, but I feel like I wanna share this one. Unlike most of my poetry, it sounds a bit cliché-ish. However, it makes perfect sense. For me, at least.

Ode to a Season and Reason

Grey matter comes to my open palms
Rests its solid weight on my skin
And readies itself for hibernation
Waiting to return to its known season and reason

Like fungus, the scent gets thicker, wider
Penetrating the things that surround
Permeating every fabric within reach
Affecting the nostrils, effecting the heart

Uncensored, oils and colors come together
Dark hues dominate and shapes elongate
Reveal a dry season, a questionable reason

My open palms shiver and sweat
Sending cold rivers and undulating nerves into a vortex
A cleansing process

Wake me up when the time is ripe
For the new season and an infallible reason

Shucks. I don't want.

My life is in a spiral. On one hand, it's doing pretty well. On the other, it's a mess. My dancing, my artistry, my career, my relationship with my peers and my family life are on the fast track and bearing fruit. My bank account and my relationship with my non-artist friends is in limbo.

I think my financial standing will turn good once I become company and once I get used to the Ballet Philippines (BP) scheme of things. But what I am having a hard time dealing with is the fact that I can't always be physically present for my college and pre-dancing friends.

Recently, my friend offered to fund my Singapore trip. I really wanna go, but I can't until about April. At that time, he'll be in Manila. So, what's the point of going there? I said June would be better for me. Turns out, it may not be the case. I may be joing to the US for 2 weeks in July and August. I'm not sure the company will allow me to be gone so many times in a season. Things are not definite. The World Jazz Congress in the US will be a great opportunity but I don't wanna disappoint my friend yet again. Plus, if I am cast in a good role, they may not let me go at all. Shucks!

I also missed my godchild's baptism two saturday's ago. I had promised to go. And, in most cases, when I say I will go, I do. I planned to leave after class and comeback in time for rehearsal. But I needed to prepare the production details for the following day (the day I had 4 shows) and learn an entire dance sequence where I have a featured solo for BP's school recital. I didn't make it. My godchild, Naomi, is my college buddies daughter. A really good friend. Double Shucks!

It doesn't help that my non-artist friends earn a million times more that I do. Their lifestyle is not easy to match. Not that I want to match it. I just want to be able to pay my way whenever we meet.

Must I lose my friends over my craft? I don't want that. No.

Grappling for Words

Yesterday, I was super tired. I had to do my duties as production assistant, dancer, artist and lecturer all at the same time. We had a total a 4 shows. I was exhausting. But after our 4th show, I was extremely elated.

BP is definitely the best dance company in Manila. And I am a part of that. Side by side the other companies, BP showed that we can transcend different styles and genres of dance with aplomb.

The cherry on top was this German Dancer with Filipino and French blood. He exclaimed that what brightened up his day was the Pas des Deux between myself and rhea. We were extremely funny and fabulous on stage. After that show and watching BP strut it's stuff, he was reminded of why he chose to dance. Hearing that is like.. Oh gosh!.. I am out of a metaphor. I hope you get the picture.

Midnight, I had a 3-way call between my bestfriends and I. It was to greet Louie a happy birthday. He was happy we called. But they always seem to find a way to make me feel bad that I can't be there all the time. Unlike them, I just can't file for a leave and fly to Singapore whenever I want to. The level of commitment required from me for my craft is at it's peak now. They say they understand, but, somehow, I feel that they hold it against me that I am not there all the time.

At this point, I am again at a loss for words

Clever Entry

I do not have the luxury of time when you compare me to my co-dancers. Most of them are younger and/or have had more training.

I was honest and transparent. I worked hard and made the most of everything given to me. I even made the most of what was not given to me. The rewards have been many, surprising and amazingly beautiful. And I look forward to a promising future.

I can therefore conclude, after all that has happened to me, that, at this point of our lives, it's not about what you know. It's about being clever at making things work. And not just ordinary clever. It's being clever for every one's benefit, every one's advantage.

News Flash!

More great news! I was asked to join the company as an apprentice. I expected this to happen June of this year in time for the next season, but it's here now. I am so excited. This was a prayer come true. There'll be more shows. More dancing. And all that goes with it.

January 2, 2007

January 2, my friends and I took a walking tour of Binondo called “The Great Binondo Food Wok.” We all met at 9am at Binondo church where the tour began and where it would end. The tour consisted of history, culture, food stops, religion and architecture. Our incredible tour guide, Ivan, a Chinoy, was eloquent, knowledgeable and witty. The tour was a fabulous romp that took us from the Church to the temple, from the old to the rebuilt to the new, from the common thoroughfares of trade to the back streets filled with BS Folks (Bagong Salta or Fresh of the Boat Immigrants), from dimsum to snake eggs (they were chicken eggs) to lotto balls and from the Chinese to the Malay, Spanish and even American. All-in-all, it was five hours of walking, eating, stories, art and life. Yes, the four hour tour extended to five hours because we were all having a rollicking grand time.

At 2pm, the group had to split. My artist friends and I decided to hit Intramuros to hang out. One hiccup occurred. Our car was towed. Yes, despite asking two people where to park, we parked in the wrong place. We had a premonition about this during our tour when Ivan mentioned that cars get towed quite often, but we didn't heed that warning. Hence, we had to head to the parking lot beside Harrison Plaza to retrieve Rhea's car. Rhea and Jay picked up the car while the rest of us headed of to Harrison Plaza for errands.

Thirty minutes later and after Jay and Rhea scared us that they didn't get the car, we were all in the car and headed for Intramuros. There we did a short photo-up at Plaza San Miguel, got copies of Indayog the first Philippine dance magazine at NCCA, and walked to Illustrados. Illustrados is a quaint restaurant/cafe with an exquisitely quaint ambiance and excellent Filipino cuisine. As we were dining, all five of us chatted up a storm about art, loves and laughs, the day we’ve had and the year ahead of us. Before parting ways at about 6:30pm, we all agreed that this a great way to start the year.

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P.S.
I find it annoying how girls and mom's say 5 minutes but they mean 10 or 10 minutes but they mean 20 or even thirty. Everything doubles up. I think estrogen has a way of making time seem slower.


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P.P.S.
I was asked yesterday to be part of BP's Espana Extension slated for the first weekend of March. First, to give a short lecture at the start of the program to educate students. Later in the day, I was asked to dance. Yipee! I am so excited. Will post the show schedule once it is confirmed. Mwah! :-)

Double Entries for a Hopeful 2007

Entry #1

Saturday night, I watched a concert featuring the music of Ariel Arambulo entitled "Music for Christ." It was a beautiful night filled with music, prayer, and truth.

His music was dedicated to Christ and Mary, friends, teachers and to people that have suffered. The program began with a Christmas Suite. This was followed by a suite that included music about being forsaken to a tribute to his wife. There was a playful violin number and a fear-inducing sound collage. A young girl sang a song about the child victims of the 'mushroom cloud' in Japan. A tribute to Mary and a lullaby for Jesus was also in the program. The ending was a song number about the beginning of the Christmas season.

The program was arranged in such a way that a cycle kept repeating. The music featured began joyously turned melancholy and despairing then changed color to full of hope and finally glorious. It was a cycle that repeated around three times whether the music stood alone or in a suite. This cycle kept me on the edge of my seat. My body was listening to the music and each chord struck a vein. What helped was the people beside me were also listening with their ears, minds and hearts wide open. This compounded the energy of the music.

It has been quite a long time since I have been in the audience. Normally, I am one of the performers or my friends or my students are. As part of the receiving end of the show, I was in rhapsody. The performers were technically capable of the requirements of the music, but, more than that, they were truthful. They were not performing merely notes. I like to term how they performed as "baring their souls." Or the souls of the characters they portray. And that is what I look for in a performance. That is what I do when I perform. And there they were. Naked in their music. And that's all that mattered. I had a little piece of paradise in that concert. Bravo!

Entry #2

How does one cope with regret?

Previously, I wrote about living life without regrets. I think it was something my Social Science professor impressed upon our class --- not having regrets. From what I recall, it was something Nietzsche said. Now, who would believe someone who said God does not exist? Someone who didn't believe in God, right. But, ala Peter Pan, I do believe.

My professor was someone who didn't believe in God. Surprising was the fact that he was once a seminarian. He once believed. But for him there was only one true Christian, Jesus. And, if he or anyone couldn't emulate the life of Jesus, then he couldn't be a priest or Christian for that matter.

Like him, there were times that I didn't believe. It was better not to believe. I did not have to reconcile my preference for the same sex with my faith. But, every time, I keep going back. Still, I cannot reconcile the lifestyle I want to lead with the life dictated by the book.

In this vein, I am faced with a dilemma. Is this my fault? Or my parents? The world's? or God's? I do not know. I just know I have regrets. My fair share. And I don't just cope. I live with it. This has been my life.

I am plainly hopeful for 2007.

This promises to be a long entry

Today, is the first day I have down time this Christmas season. Today, I woke up past noon and plan to write this really long entry, start a book on Marie Antoinette and, perhaps, have a trim.

Three weeks ago was my last week of performances this year. I had 1 recital for CCPDS, 8 shows for Ballet Philippines, 1 Pas des deux for Steps and the son of Singapore's PM, and 1 corporate gig. All that on top of ballet class, rehearsals, and 3 Christmas Parties, shopping for gifts for all those people and having to wrap them in time for the parties. All that in one week.

I managed to survive thanks to Berocca and a lot of prayers. Well, that and the fact that I enjoyed what I was doing. I loved the energy that went with performing and giving gifts. Don't get me wrong though. I loved having that busy week. But once every so often is enough. I don't wanna kill myself.

During that time, I learned a lot about Ballet Philippines. The administration, the people behind it and the dancers. I observed the way each individual worked, the group dynamic and the environment of the company. I have such high regard for the dancers I had the pleasure of working with. They work hard given their circumstances.

They are given very little and, in return, they give all they have. They use all their faculties to deliver what is asked of them. They burn themselves out for the sake of their craft and their art. They do all this despite their poor compensation, horrible benefits, limited training and technique classes, minimal exposure and exhausting working hours.

The company members of Ballet Philippines are paid from P6000 to P12000 (US$120 - us$240) a month depending on your tenure and your dancing prowess. Apprentices earn P2000 (us$40) a month and P300 (US$6) per show. Shocking and True. In my mind, I am trying to validate this. Apprentices are paid peanuts because your work pays for your training and because you can at the same time be a scholar at a university for a degree in Dance. All dancers may also lodge at the Ballet Philippines house, but that does not include food. There is health insurance but I had to sponsor the therapy sessions of one apprentice for two weeks because (1) his plan does not cover therapy, (2) the bosses offered no help and were either stumped as to what to do, told him to check his other insurance plan from a corporate gig he did, or out of town, and (3) he couldn't afford it on his meager salary. I actually wanna find out if the company will do anything for January and February, because this dancer will need 6 to 8 more weeks of therapy.

This is the company I want to be part of and climb my way to Premier Danseur (male version of Prima Ballerina). But right now, in one show, I earn more than an apprentice does in a month. If I join the company, I will surely have to fore go some of the leisure I enjoy today. A good thing will happen though. And I am praying that it bears fruit. I was offered a post in the production side of BP. This means that I will earn a little outside my dancing doing a job that does not take me away from dancing in the company.

But other companies have an even harder time. At least, the BP dancers are paid and are paid on time and in full. Still, it is deplorable. This is a reflection of the economic standing of a country. Just like Greece and Rome of old and the EU and US today, art prospers where it's citizens prosper. Art survives in the Philippines because of the resilience of the Filipino Artist. These are the artists I work with. For that, I am grateful.

All that was three weeks ago, the past two weeks have been about Christmas. More Christmas shopping. More wrapping. More parties. Again, I had crazy fun. I loved the thrill that came with giving gifts. There was only one thing that annoyed me this Christmas season. And it's not the Christmas fat. It was when I found out two friends monetized the gifts they would receive. One of them would even call a gift cheap when she herself admitted to being a plain scrooge. The other friend would, on the other hand, have a list of what she received and give gifts in return equal in money terms to that person.

I was raised to give cheerfully expecting nothing in return except the joy of the receiver. I gave gifts of my own free will and tried to give the best that I could given the budget I had. And I loved the fact that I was able to give of myself to all the people I hold dear. I gave out so much more that I received. And I loved it.

Don't get me wrong. I love to receive gifts, too. In fact, here's a list of my favorite gifts. One acquaintance gave me a purrty bracelet of blue beads with a single cross and inconspicuous bling-bling. Another friend, promised a burned CD of opera music I can't buy here. He gave me the burned CD and more. He gave me an original CD compilation of 100 Maria Callas hits. I was so delighted. She is what I listen to day in and out. So far, her "Carmen" selection is my favorite. Such power in a voice and in music. Another friend, gave me gel booties from Earth Therapeutics. It was beyond her budget for me and, yet, she bought it. She knew that my feet get a terrible beating from dancing and she wanted to soothe my tired feet. I can't wait to wear them after a long day of ballet.

My other favorite gifts weren't given as presents. This is how it happened. An acquaintance was delighted to find out that I don't only perform, but I draw too. I was pleasantly surprised to hear a friend proudly point out that I write and that my poetry was well-written and beautiful. This was something my mother did as well at a recent family reunion. I couldn't help but blush. Another instance was when my father asked for a new picture of me to put in his wallet. He said he needed updated pictures of myself and my siblings so he can show it to his friends when he talks about us. Talk about a proud dad.

I may not be earning 6 figure paychecks, drive a new SUV or a fancy sedan, but, really, could I ask for anything more? Yeah, I could. A lover and more love.

Easy Writing

I want to write but my mind is blank. I can't seem to organize my thoughts into one cohesive line of thought. I think this is a product of having a lot to do. I have to reserve my energies (physical, mental and emotional) for my classes, rehearsals and shows. This is not easy and people ask me how I do it. I tell them it's easy when you love what you do. And, on that point, I feel blessed. Few people ever get to do what they love to do.

It's not easy, but it's beautiful.

P.S. I've been at Steps alot lately. And I terribly miss Ella and Jeca!

Grey Matter

"Sometimes the world of colour blinds you too much that it would be better to see things in black and white instead." - text message from a friend

Last wednesday, my friend and I performed a 10 minute dance for the tribute to National Artist Arturo Luz at CCP. Our piece was inspired by and performed in-front of a huge mural by the artist entitled "Black forms in White Space."

Our lighting was bare and stark and so were our costumes. I was white. My friend was black. Our steps were simple and barely complicated, but the intentions behind each movement required us to go through all states of consciousness from innocence to passion, from familiarity to contempt. What made it difficult to nail was the fact that our choreographer wanted us to dance with a distilled quality and have a sterile effect.

When we started out, we had a dynamic that we thought worked. My partner being very giving was the submissive half. I being very giving, as well, (I like to think of myself as such) generally took the lead. But it did not seem to work. After our last rehearsal-run on the day of the show, I decided to let her take the reins instead. This changed our dynamic allowing her to create the pulse of our dance. All I had to do was react appropriately. This brought our dance to a whole new level. I had to submit. After all, it's Black forms "IN" White Space. She was black. I was white.

In life, who is black and who is white is a totally grey matter.

3-3-3

My rehearsal this afternoon was cancelled due to the Manny Pacquiao game. He won in just three rounds via a TKO to prevail in their third match-up. That's 3 rounds, 3 Knock-outs on their 3rd game. 3-3-3.

Wow! Sometimes I amaze myself with the things I am able to see. I didn't think about that triple rarity until I was writing about it. Am I this keen about the things that happen around me? I'd like to think so, but the truth of the matter is I'm not. I choose to see the things I see. The same applies for everyone.

This week I had the pleasure of interacting with so many people from past friendships to new-found friends, from old schoolmates to current peers, from erstwhile students to future c0-collaborators and more. It was quite a rush and a bit taxing on my part to have to shift roles with various people for a variety of meetings several times a day, but I felt fulfilled. I felt fulfilled in the sense that I am seeing the world in so many different lights, from different polar regions. I am bearing witness to life in all its forms and all its glory. This is a repository of information from which I can cull inspiration and seeds for my art. I was able to see in my own eyes and from other's eyes.

I may be tired but I can throw my punches. I can see you and I am ready for the battle.

Crazy Month

My schedule this month is crazy. I don't know how I can keep up. But I love it. I'm running to and fro doing everything i love doing. I can't and shouldn't complain. In my very limited free time, I finished reading Bel Canto by Ann Patchett. It is a must read. It is a novel about Art, Beauty, Love and Truth. As for shows, I have an additional show next week. This will be Wednesday, Nov 22, 6pm at the CCP. This is part of the Arturo Luz program. I can't go on any further because I gotta hit the road na. Besos!

P.S. Please pray for Ella and Jeca. They're two beautiful dancers. Both very young and injured (ACL). Pray for their speedy recovery and that they can still dance after they recuperate.

If I went...

Yet again I have to disappoint my best friend.

Since I started performing, my schedule has been a host of classes, rehearsals, and shows. I take time to enjoy myself but barely do I get to do it with my friends. Why? Because our schedules and work requirements are different. My day starts after lunch and ends late into the evening. My shows are usually on the weekends and I have morning classes on Saturdays. Hence, I cannot party on a Friday night. And I'm drained come Saturday night. Usually my friends, have to tell me weeks in advance of get-togethers so I can arrange my schedule.

This wednesday, I was not supposed to be at Steps at that particular time, but I was there and so was this director. He was not able to cast me for a Philippine show because I didn't match the looks needed. Instead, on the spot, he offered me a role in a Singapore show. I had to leave by Sunday night to be there for the Monday rehearsal. The work load and the role I was playing was not diffucult. All expenses paid, this was like a free vacation. A vacation I could spend with my bestfriend based in Singapore who I have not visited. Problem is, I would have to stay for around 5 weeks. I had to give my confirmation within that day.

If i went, i would cause problems for four groups --- An events firm, My students at T.H.I.S., CCP Dance School, and Ballet Philippines. If I went, I would cause problems for a myriad of people and 6 programs, one of which has 10 shows. If I went, my technique which has improved would suffer from the very limited technical requirements of the show. If I went, my commitment to dance would be in question and impede my progress into the Ballet Philippines Company.

If I went, I would have made one person happy. If I went, maybe I wouldn't feel miserable.

I declined.

Twice

Twice it has happened. I meet someone with possibility who had to leave. This second time, I just let him go. It was easier. Much easier. I think.

The Select Few

There are few people that get to read my blog. Out of the dozen (an approximation) that know of it's existence, I think only three read it regularly. So it pleases me to know that anonymous persons have run into it either on purpose or by accident.

I am a private person and tend to keep my thoughts and feelings private. At the same time, I am a performer. I love the limelight and attention. And it is in performing that I unleash myself in part and in whole. This blog feels like a performance --- a rendering of my sanguinary perceptions of the world and of myself. A performance reserved for a select few --- The select few invited. The few who look for it. And the few who stumble into it.

If you were invited, please come. If you took pains to get here, I commend you. Please stay. If you stumbled into it, then you must have been guided by an unknown entity for a reason. Reasons clear or reasons unfathomable. Whichever reason it may be, please stay.

I am your humble artist. Both real and an illusion. I am forever in search of the truth of each moment. You are part of the journey.

Do you know me?

What are you listening to right now? quest for camelot, high school musical, and the nutcracker ballet.. i need to study them for my students

What was the last thing you ate? A McDo Rice Burger Meal and Goya Raisins and Nuts in Milk Chocolate

Do you wish on stars? No

If you were a crayon, what color would you be? I'd rather be a pastel pen, but, as a crayon, i'd like to be a well-used "yellow"

How is the weather right now? cool

Last person you spoke to on the phone? my ballet teacher

Favorite drink? mango-lychee shake

Favorite sport? swimming

Hair color? dark brown

Do you wear contacts? yes, clear only

Siblings? 2

Favorite month? July

Favorite food? Donuts!

What was the last movie you saw? Pride and Prejudice with Keira Knightley.. I wanna play Mr. Darcy

Favorite day of the year? Eve of Halloween with "The Lost Trios"

What do you do to vent anger? I eat. I keep shoving food into my mouth

What was your favorite toy as a child? Slimer from the Ghostbusters and a stuffed parrot

Favorite season: Rainy. You curl up in your blanket as the rain drums up steady music onto everything outside

Hugs or kisses? Physical Hugs and Hershey's Kisses

Chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate

What is under your bed? A box of photographs, a pair of leather shoes I barely use and several bags on hiatus

Who is the friend you have had the longest? Kaye and Louie

What did you do last night? Hosted my friends debut and slept only four hours

What are you afraid of? Failure --Agree!

Plain, buttered or salted popcorn? Kettle Corn

Favorite car? A red mustang

Favorite flower? rare orchids

Number of keys on your key ring? One

How many years at your current job? 3 years

Favorite day of the week? Friday

What did you do on your last birthday? Contemplated on things you do not wanna know about

What is your favorite candy? Cinnamon altoids

Hearing A Voice

Friday, I was really tired from a 16 hour long day. That morning, I was out by 8am for an appointment that was cancelled when I was quite a distance from my home. I was too far from home to go back and make it to my next appointment in time. Hence, I ended up doing some errands. Went to my class and danced for church in the evening. By twelve midnight, I was at home quite fatigued but restless. To put my mind to sleep, I finished a book I was reading about three people affected by a car accident --- Eva, a girl that was run-over, survived, but ceased to live life. Etienne, a bookseller who, despite being innocent, committed suicide because he ran over a little girl. And Therese, the mother who ran away to a different place and, from my vantage point, to a different time in her mind. Rest came after the last page of the book.

Saturday morning, I did not get up by 6am nor 7am and not even at 8am to make it to CCP in time for at least one of the three classes I could have taken. I awoke at 9am feeling pissed all over that I was not at class. I felt so horrible that I wanted to rip my room to bits and pieces. I am rarely late and miss class for such inane reasons and I know I should cut myself some slack. But here I was feeling as guilty as the man who ran over a girl. It must have been all the angst and fatalism from the book I read that was flowing in my veins. It's the kind of feeling that rushes all over your body from that small place in your heart where all the feelings you don't want to feel come from. My feelings were like the little girl in the book who after two hours of waiting for her mother to pick her up ran in the rain in the direction of home but in state of panic that you can't see straight. Not even left or right. Not even to a car racing down the freeway, hurtling towards you.

I texted my best friend. "You up?" A minute later, she called. Her voice was still sleeping, but it was there for me. Hearing her voice calmed me. Her words, I know, were trying to convince me of something. I can't remember exactly what. It wasn't her words that meant something. It was her voice. That was all I needed. After her call, I still felt horrible for missing class. But I was ok. I could manage to smile. What made me smile was her voice. It's the kind of remedy that can't be bought, but earned. By both parties. For what we have earned for each other, I am eternally grateful.

Nobody's on Nobody's side

The aftermath of a storm is always a silent lull. Last Thursday, a typhoon ravaged the region. As predicted, at about two pm the peak of the storm hit Manila and by four it was gone. Completely. For several hours you could hear nothing else but the wind and rain batter the walls of your home, but by four you could hear a pin drop. This is the way of Nature.

Before the power outage caused by the storm, I was watching the Sopranos on DVD. As I was watching, a thought came to mind. I imagined that all over the world there must be other people watching the Sopranos. Someone watching the same episode. Someone eating the same pack of junk food. Watching on the same brand of TV. Watching while lying on a matt strewn on the floor. There must be someone out there with the same vibe. All this is a possibility. It cannot be proven but sounds plausible. Then, the lights went out.

There was nothing to do at home. Plus, you can't go out unless you wanna be lambasted and raped by the raging winds. Thus, I ate and slept. And ate and slept. Buhay Baboy!

Friday, I took to my brother’s gym and burned all the ice cream I ate the night before. I watched a movie with him. Ate dinner with him. Went home with him. Talked by candlelight with him. My brother! Well, it was strange that we got along in more ways than one.

Saturday, I took Jazz, Ballet, and Modern at Steps for the first time in three months. Boy, was I pooped. My stomach still aches from all the work it had to do. Apparently, I showed much improvement that my ballet teacher said I looked good at the barre. Quite sometime ago, someone called my barre dreadful. Not anymore.

Sunday, today, I auditioned for a commercial show. A show that I may not commit to if it conflicts with my CCP career. Then, I rehearsed at church for tomorrow’s "Day of Atonement." This "Day of Atonement" is a day set aside in the Jewish calendar for one to fast and pray for the forgiveness of his/her sins. Honestly, I think this should have been scheduled last Thursday during the storm. One can wail for his/her sins all he/she wants and no one will hear. The storm is too loud.

I don't think the storm has ended though. Today, Tomorrow, and the day after that, we will still need to apologize for all our sins. Sins, new and fresh. As constant as Nature. Nobody's on nobody's side until we don't have to apologize. Then, we will hear the silence and the stillness we all dream of. This is a possibility. Plausible. The only truth I am certain of at this moment is that the lights are still out at home.