My Back Hurts

Just came from the first ever DCBDYF camp, called In Christ: Life from the Grave. I do say, it was nice overall. But a few things left me confused and crying and ready to collapse from exhaustion. Like Pastor Sandy's sermon on complaining being a sin. I didn't know that, I didn't realize.

But then I come home and my dad tells me that he disagrees. It isn't a sin. You have the right to complain when what you get isn't what you pay for. Or something of that sort. Complaining most of the time, when you should actually be doing something--maybe that is the sin. I don't know. My brain isn't working. After commuting home from UP LB via bus, I'm ready to black out.

The Lord pulled us through. It was the first camp, the first try, after all. We're new at this--there were a lot of problems. A lot of mistakes. But ladies and gentlemen, we made it. We made it. Even if Recreation beat the life out of me, along with the 1 am nights and the 630 wake up calls, the long, cramped ride home and the financial complications--

Yay. I'm off to sleep.

Perhaps a Part Will Stay

A recent phone conversation triggered a truckload of memories. Yes, the right question was asked: what was I thinking during those three days? It was a breath of fresh air, so to speak. Something to distract me from the thoughts swirling at the bottom of the floor back home.

The time I refused to tell Tim that I was going to miss him, before leaving for the States last year (I gave in at the end, of course.)

That phone conversation with KJ one surprising night. Of turtles, gifts, and other things that don't need to be mentioned. I miss her company, maybe. As I miss the company of a lot of people I don't get to talk to anymore.

And of course, that stubborn issue of the future. I guess my optimism has withered away somewhat, because of discouragement and things not being as they used to be. But hey, strip away optimism, and you still have dreams. Strip away dreams, and you have a bit of hope left. Take away that bit of hope, and all you have is...the love that was there first. Perhaps a part will stay.

(And sentimentality strikes again.)

San Antonio, Isabela

Blog entry on trip to Isabela

San Antonio, Isabela : 12 hours away from happy Manila. The inhabitants of my grandmother's home are Tito Victor, Tita Maricon, Lola Pacing, 3 cats named Ming, a family of chickens, and Christine the goat, who is worth 700 pesos and who my grandmother plans to butcher in the near future. But hopefully not.

-Day one-

8 pm.

The headlights of the van blazed into Lola's garage, and there was the goat, scampering away. We had Chicken Joy! for dinner. It was a safe trip all throughout, despite mom's fear of seeing that crazy naked man praying in the cemetery again. (She and her brother saw the guy on their last visit. We didn't see him, but the thought of it is creepy nonetheless.) Lola seemed much more alive than she was the last time we saw her. The mosquitoes were alive and well too. We watched Music and Lyrics, and Tito Victor unveiled his rather large collection of pirated DVDs. We were in pirateland! Yay! That night, I shared a bed with Abby, hugging a stiff pillow and burrowing into my batik. I could hardly move.

-Day two-

...which proves to be a lot more interesting than day one.

The family, along with Lola and le faithful driver Kuya Melan, drove to the Bayan of Ilagan to get some supplies. Mom was pointing out cotton trees along the way, which weren't really cotton trees, but...something else. (I forgot the term Lola mentioned. x.x ) We ogled at the yellow rice road and the yellow corn road and the yellow sitaw road. Harvesting season! Almost. There were miles and miles and miles of farmland everywhere. Ilagan wasn't nearly as modernized as Santiago, but had a sufficient supply of junk food to keep us happy. Yes, I ate two large bags of Boy Bawang. Mmm. Garlicky. Abigail purchased enough candy to last her a week, and Lola bought 6 cans of rootbeer. (Yes, I must've inherited my love of rootbeer from her.)

We ate lunch at Felicita's (which serves the greatest pancit in the land) and then went back home. After resting a bit (and watching a couple of movies), we were off to the river. (see post on mermaids.)

The night ended in Tito Victor's delicious liempo, kalabasa in gata, and mangoes. The siblings weren't able to overcome their fear of bugs, and thus had to be *accompanied* while taking a bath. Hurrah. The night's movies were Letters from Iwo Jima, and Flushed Away. After the movie, a three-minute conversation in the bathroom. Did I mention San Antonio has almost no signal? Yes. No signal, except for at the edge of the garage, the middle of the bathroom, and beside the oven toaster. :D

-Day Three-

The day begins with me waking up beside Pat with no blanket. It is hot, and Lola is already up. It's 9. Breakfast is meatloaf and sausages and soft rice and scrambled egg. After dallying around the house a lot (and attempting to watch House of Flying Daggers), we're off to Ilagan again in the late afternoon to go shopping for the bonfire dinner later tonight. Way Back Into Love is playing over and over and over and over again in my head, and Pat does Josh Groban thrice.

At the store, one customer mistakes me for one of the store girls. :P

Lady: Miss, saan yung mga pantyliners?

Me: (startled) uh..(looks around) hindi ko po alam..

Lady: (realizes her mistake) AHH! (covers mouth with hand) sorry! sorry miss!

Me: That's ok..

Lol. :D

Dad purchases two chickens along the way back to San Antonio (cooked ones, mind you.) It's really dark by the time we get back to the house, and Tito Victor and Kuya Melan and Kuya Jesse (who is slightly drunk) begin to heap firewood in the back yard. Soon, a bonfire rises four feet into the air. Dinner is chicken and dessert is marshmallows and roasted banana and graham crackers and chocolate. Yum. Kuya Jesse asks us if we believe in "Fairytales that are real", and proceeds to tell us about the time he saw a mermaid, and about the manananggals in Capiz, and that time when a girl and her boyfriend fell victim to the creature.

Sooo.

After roasting marshmallows, Tito Victor rigged up mom's MagicSing, where he got a score of 78 on his first try. Not bad. Then mom went, and then I went, doing Rainbow Connection. Abigail went after that, reciting her version of The Golden Rule, garnering a score of 32. Lola sang a couple of songs, and after that, we watched part of Night at the Museum, but were sent to sleep by mother. Another day, the last day, ended.

Yeah, it's a breath of fresh air, getting "away from it all". I rather enjoyed the mosquitoes and no heating and roaming around the house looking for signal. The first trip of summer. Yay. :D

Mermaids

3/4 of this is nonfic. 1/4 for the third person writing style and a few changes. But yes, this did happen.

Mermaids.
San Antonio, Isabela


She capped her eyes although there was no sun to hide them from. It was mid-afternoon, but cloudy. The sky, swathed various shades of white and grey and light orange, glowed softly. The girl moved. The Otso river wasn't that wide or that deep; it was an absolutely normal river. Except for the fact that Lola had seen mermaids there.

She fingered the thick safety pin attached to the end of her shirt. Crunch. With every step, the rocks beneath her shifted. Large rocks and pebbles and gravel of three different shades filled the riverside. The cobbled road of sorts went as far as the river did, and was about half a mile wide.

Plop. Plop. Splash.

They were skipping stones across the water.

Lola had said that mermaids could be warded off by sharp metal objects. The old woman had insisted that each of the girls wore at least one--the pins belonged to *her* grandmother and were passed on to her mother, and then her, and now she was passing them onto them, her grandchildren; the only ones left in the country.

"Lola, do mermaids even exist?"

That question set off a series of stories that their mother would absolutely have loved to get on video. If only there was more tape. What a pity. A faraway gaze settled into their grandmother's eyes, as she called back to a time older than the Otso.

The sound of rocks breaking in half filled the air, and the girl was startled out of her thoughts. She glanced at the sound. Pat was throwing rocks on the ground, making them ricochet off the harder ones, and seeing if they would break. So far, her research seemed successful.

"Pits, you might hit Lola."

Splashing sounds came from the riverside, and the girl aimed the camera lens at the mountains and the water. The second sister was still skipping stones. Lola was talking about dwarves in an aunt's swimming pool, back in alabang. One of the old maids had seen them, she said. There were two of them every night, splashing their feet at the side of the pool. Tito Ray, their now-divorced-uncle, had seen the little men when he came home once, at midnight.

"Look! Frogs!"

The LCD screen spun, and the girl zoomed in to capture the miniature amphibians.

"Where? Where?"

"There Hannah! Aw, you missed them. Look there's another one!"

"I can't see them!"

"You're too slow."

"Sure."

She stood straight, now facing the river, always in motion. The wavelets were permanent, it seemed, edging together, then crashing into nothing, then coming back up again. Perpetual motion, if there was such a thing. But according to Physics, there wasn't. All forces had to die down someday. Briefly, the girl wondered if the mermaids would too. It was a spur-of-the-moment thought, as were most of her thoughts. She scanned the surface of the river, hoping for...something. It was just a myth, she knew. But looking wouldn't hurt.

The sky was gradually progressing to a deep shade of orange. Clouds cast shadows on the endless bed of rocks. Kuya Melan, the driver, got into the battered silver van, and so did mother and dad and Lola. The children were left by the river.

"Kids, time to go!"

The wheels of the van crunched across the gravelly surface. The girl called to her siblings.

"People, into the van!"

They ambled up in the direction of the vehicle, carrying with them small pebbles they liked, strangely-shaped rocks, and two pieces of smooth driftwood. She turned to glance again at the river's surface. Nothing broke it, except, perhaps, the movement of planks of wood, as illegal loggers transported Narra to their waiting trucks. The girl headed towards the van.

There were no mermaids. But that was because they were wearing the safety pins.

Excerpts

Here's the dirty little secret, Tam Lin whispered in his ear. No one can tell the difference between a clone and a human. That's because there isn't any difference. The idea of clones being inferior is a filthy lie.

Then Celia's arms were around him, and Matt could smell the cilantro leaves she chopped up when she was cooking. I love you, mi hijo, she said, hugging him. Never forget that.

Next, El Patron put his gnarled old hand on Matt's head and said, How I scrambled for the coins the Mayor threw me! How I rolled in the dirt like a pig! But I needed the money. I was so poor, I didn't have two pesos to rub together. You're just like I was at that age.

Matt shivered. El Patron hadn't loved him, but the emotion the old man had given him was just as strong: the will to live, to put out branches until he overshadowed the whole forest. Matt turned away from El Patron and saw--in his mind--Maria.

Gosh, I've missed you! said Maria, giving him a kiss.
I love you, Matt said.
I love you, too, Maria replied. I know that's a sin, and I'll probably go to hell for it.
If I have a soul, I'll go with you, promised Matt.

---

An excerpt from The House of the Scorpion, by Nancy Farmer. It's a kid's book, but I haven't read one quite like this since The Giver. Yes, it's another one of those amazing, interesting books that pull out your emotions and play with your head. The last bit caught me. And you might know why. Anyway, I look to finishing the book tonight, and if not, during the first hours of tomorrow.

I'm going to San Antonio, Isabela with the family to spend time with my last grandma, Lola Pacing. And the ever-smoking, porkchop-cooking, beer-drinking, car-fixing Tito Victor, and his lovely young wife ate Tita Maricon.

Here's to 12 hours in the car with Abigail and Pat. Wish me luck.