Influences (or Why I Write the Way I Do)

Natalie Goldberg (free-flowing writing)
Clarissa Pinkola Estes (wild woman writing)
Jane Hutchison (direct-to-the-point writing)
Ernest Hemingway (simple words writing)

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

I See

with my work
i don't get to blog every day
i see the daughter only twice a month
the thesis gets only 12 hours at most a week
i get bashed in social media from people I least expect to
receive development requests hard to fulfill
my orders and explanations get misinterpreted
but i rarely gripe like this
only when it gets to the bone
things happen for a reason
for one
i get to see what development work is
i get to see who the real development worker is
and the share of disappointments and hurt do trickle
but will come and go
and i go on, proceed
missing this blog
missing the daughter
missing the thesis
in the end, efforts will prevail like blinding light
and people will get to see
you will all see

Monday, August 25, 2014

Two People Commit

And So...

Friday, August 22, 2014

Your Place

Once you
Know your place
It is a lonely
Lonesome place
You will
Learn to look away
Be deaf at will
And wait
Without wanting
Time to just
Be time
Your space to
Just be yours

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

The Unfolding

the social experiment continues.

i don't know what to feel. not that i ignore it. there's actually no distinct feeling. it is hard to describe what one cannot pinpoint.

what is confirmed is that feelings have never been black and white. that in its hues, one can choose to just get lost, and let go.

i need him, and i like him. an open persona shouting, 'this is what you get. but what i have is real.'

he admits to be at the twilight of his life. making up for lost time. speeding up unless his smoking, the habits that could not be reversed, slows him down. he admits, the wife and his family has been his first thought, after getting this recent job breakthrough. he admits, that he loves me, does not want to let me go but understands the one-way street he is getting into.

and i admit, i laugh at his foibles and misfits. i admit, dismissing the declarations of love because the heart has grown more cynical than believing.  and i admit, this heart is being opened to another experience with sadness again.  because the future is quite easy to foretell. that what we are getting into right now, runs the risk of being just another episode. but if the fates be kind, still, an outcast relationship that only he and i can comprehend.  a relationship that is always quite but not, almost real but hidden, almost complete but always wanting. perhaps, we should not want anymore, not think, and just let things be. just as he suggested, 'let's just be spontaneous.'

how does the line go, 'the wrong station may lead you to the right station...'   as my relationships with men have come and gone, from the oppressive to the promising, for me, the concept of the ideal type, the ideal relationship, the ideal man is just an illusion. it is not mine to deserve. as men do not come in neat little packages, so does love and the relationships springing from it, are not necessarily predictable or desirable at first glance.

so i wake up every day to the faith that the present just has to be lived. and that every ounce of kindness, attention, that tug in my heart whenever he reaches out, shares how his day and nights have been, asks, takes and gives advice, flirts, an unfolding of a love that could not be judged out of a man and his past. it is a love encouraged and acknowledged as coming out of a man, no longer missing this chance of a future with someone to trust. in time, i may learn to love, despite the possibilities of loss and resignation. in time, perhaps our love will be strong, unusually strong because it is not tied to false hopes. in time, perhaps, he, will leave the deeper, fuller, and indelible imprint. the bestfriend-lover who will tide me through this lifetime.

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Love in Airports, Again

A woman here at Bangkok Airport just refuses to let her man go. Even by sight. However you call it, love between two people, of different race or life status maybe, is an unbreakable bond. It is just so good to be in love.

Sunday, August 10, 2014

The Power of Four

the power of Four
4am waking up time for the thesis
for reading, for just thinking
working wonders
discipline opens the way through

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Earth and Stone

life remains
one is not invincible
one gets off balance
but the priorities stay
make better sense
what the mind
and heart conjures
will just come
i have laid it all down
the last cards
what manifests will be
the togetherness
the forgiveness
the kindness

that house in Batanes
will stand in wood, and stone
and earth
Earth in eternity

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

The Imperfect One

my CSR budget has been turned down
it's been an exhausting nine-to-three workshop
the cough is running two weeks old
and giving off spit, from inside
tomorrow, i will debate
waking up at 6, or reading up
the politics article, as if
i don't know anything about politics
but a man is here
he does not love me like
i want to be loved
he loves me like
the way he knows how
loving him back, i think
does not matter
he's real
and it's enough to feel needed
and to also free that need away
the heart is happy
not because love is perfect
but because love, in simple terms
is still love, enough to fill

Sunday, August 3, 2014


Mommy-ing is the best i can be. what i look forward to every weekend home in Naga --- especially if circumstances allow for an extra day or two --- staying till monday or tuesday here.  i would just fuss over Yaman, her breakfast, taking her to school, working home while waiting, then off again at 4pm to fetch her and bring her anywhere she likes, which in naga is nothing but --- the Malls (SM, Angena-Puregold, E-Mall).

still...i love what i do when it's just for her. that's why, looking back, in the past 4 years, the best best time was still from october 2010-february 2011. with my ongoing PhD grant, i was able to balance fieldwork, study, a love life, and a full-life with Yaman.  it fit in so perfectly that now, in hindsight, i will still look forward to a repeat, on a permanent basis if possible, of a life like this: doing a research grant, a life with a lover-bestfriend, and spending days of joy with Yaman. i can sacrifice a full-time pressure-filled work for this. that's why living life like an expat's wife wouldn't be so bad after all as long as Yaman's there and my mind's still at work, on the side.

just last week when we were at the dentist, Migs was on the line and said something to him like, 'oh, I'm a Mommy today, tending over her [Yaman].' the dentist overheard and asked, 'when you're not Mommy for her, what are you?'. " A 'Ma'am'", I replied. and we all broke out laughing. but it was not one hearty moment for me. I long to be Mommy not only on weekends, I long to Mommy her on more days than this.

Friday, August 1, 2014


in a split second, the question, 'of all the hard work, why did i get to this?'.

in how i handle my faith, i've always believed on 'God's plan'.  that in five, 10 or perhaps a year, i will get to understand the wisdom of this thesis -  the pace of it, the twists in dealing with Jane's supervision, and the turns in having to negotiate work, family, and health commitments along with it.

it's already exasperating. i long to sleep on until six every day now. i long to have a Dr. before my full name or that three letter word 'PhD' that means leaving my daughter for four years since 2009-2013 is worth it. i long to publish a book on the social history of slums in Naga and its politics. i long to be released from the agony of revising. i long to be free from a Hangman position where intelligence and character is tortuously tested.

but in longing, i must do my thing.  i must settle down and drive with rage to finish. rage is what keeps me going. the rage to get this thesis over the hill, and the little mountains ahead. rage, rage, rage. you have to get on with it, Vitti.