"This is it," I told myself after the University Doctor required me to take CBC at the Manila Doctor’s Hospital before she approve my application for physical fitness program ("gym") at the university’s sports complex. This is because I complained of moments/flashes of dizziness. Really, I have them these past few days. No, there’s no blurring of vision or fainting or vomiting but i do feel it creeping my bones, weakening my muscles.

I refused to visit the doctor since I’m afraid of what might be the diagnosis. This is what to be poor means when it comes to sickness. To think that December is coming. What will I celebrate, how will I celebrate if I’ve found out I have this sickness or that? I just psyched myself of positive thoughts and to be more conscious of the fact that life is short and beautiful that it must be lived to the fullest: eat what i want, do what i must ought to do, surround myself of beautiful, good, brilliant people, do good things - yes, i’ve already started doing storytelling session to the children of Leveriza in St. Lasalle Preschool!

But since I’m raring to try working out by maximizing the resources of Lasalle, I did visit the sports complex and man, they’ve got the staff, the program, and the equipment to answer my need: to gain weight and have that toned muscles! Uh-uh. Of course, this might also provide me visions for my writing as I hope to expand my horizon with this new experience.

So I went to the hospital - it’s time, after all, to also make use of my FortuneCare card - and have a miniscule amount of my blood be tested. I treated myself to the nearest cafe while waiting for the lab result.

Hours passed and when the envelope was handed to me, it says: ADEQUATE!I was relieved. When I gave it to the doctor the next day, she told me that i have a viral infection when the test was taken, the reason perhaps why i have that flashes of dizziness. She approved my application and it got me excited to wear my newly-bought Kickers shoes.

But my dizziness did not end there, although there’s some improvement. I’ve also seen another doctor for another test and my suspicion was right all along. I was indeed diagnosed of what I suspected I have and there’s still the lab test that I have to see and know by next week. I started the medication two nights ago and I do hope and pray that it will be over soon.

This must be the attitude: fight it while living life to the fullest!

Life is beautiful with these blessings:

1. I’ve bumped into my crush last Saturday on my way out of the library. Though he was talking with someone, he got to say "Hello, Ma’am" to which I replied, "Hello." Dapat next time sabihin ko sa kanya, "Why the Ma’am? Just call me Bevz or Gen."

2. Lasalle won over UE and that puts us in the 2nd spot. Yup, I went all the way to Araneta. All by myself. Because I broke up with him last summer and my brother is now an expectant father. I don’t want to bother him. It was worth the MRT fare after my impatience on the Spanish films I’ve loaned from Instituto. They did not carry an English subtitle and my Level 2 of Spanish, even if I was sobresaliente (?), was not enough for me to endure it. Perhaps I should call now SkyCable? But arrrg, it’s 600 + and I have my compre to prepare for.

3. T’s mother came in my class. As she promised.  To apologize, to vindicate me. Her sincerity keeps my faith in the goodness of human spirit. In my University. In the Truth. It made me more enthusiastic to deliver the best that I can be in my classes.

4. Ma’am Meloy emailed that my paper is accepted for the centennial celebration of feminist movement in the country. Now I’m more than excited to prepare for it. I am mounting a dramatic reading! This would be my first. It must really be great! Should I call Sir Jonathan J or Sammy R to do the guitar and "Turagsoy" for me? Should I collaborate with UP’s theater actors or should I go solo? Umm, I have to prepare my faculty dev earlier and some money for talent fee. I am also excited to go home and smell the newly-harvested fields. To see Nanay & Tatay & all in the family.

5. ET send me money. I know that amount means a lot to him. I know that is to assure himself that he will not lose me. I am simply happy for the friendship. Now, if only we could reverse the past, if only we could forget some things. Yes, I do forget. I do forgive but why is it that going back to him does not sound right? Does being fair and righteous mean loneliness? Oh, where are you my soulmate? Please do come now. I’ll wait until December for the cosmic, karmaic intervention…

These past few months proved to be a test of character; of what I’m made of. For the first time I got involved in an office controversy that allowed me to view the ‘inside politics’ - whom to trust and what to do.

And whom to trust? I’ve realized that some so-called masters have to be killed. Br. KC texted that we must not just remain an echo, we must become a distinct voice in the wilderness. Although I don’t approve of arrogant ways of some young writers, of some young people for that matter, I can now understand why they have to do so. Sometimes.

But I remain, and would like to be, respectul of elders. With more than enough time ahead of us, they’ve got their loads of suffering in this earth of mankind. I don’t want to be jaded, though. That’s why I love Ms. M. She never runs out of dreams, of projects to be materialized. Just like Norma J.The world remains a jungle to be explored. Eric Gamalinda in his last sentence of his novel "Empire of Memory" says: "Life is terrifying and beautiful."

What to do? Think of what Rumi said in making decision: wait for three days. But what I’ve learned is that I have to speak less but speak I should when needed be. And be firm especially if my principle and dignity is at stake. Especially at this point in time that I’ve realized that as long as I live, I’ll gonna teach. I should not let circumstances intimidate me. Just like that encounter with a student whom I failed after giving her all the chances. After what that former student did to me in front of my class.

Live and continue dreaming. Live as if everyday would be my last. The way to wisdom is bloody and sad. I have to equip myself of money -save, save but don’t sacrifice the Now - of power, yes, I’ve got to finish my Ph.D., and lots of courage to actualize my goals and ideals.

Love? Yes. Do I have to summon him? I do miss him. I really do. But perhaps this is where courage is needed to be lived: I’ve got my share. It’s enough that we remain friends and we become kinder to each other.

This has been there under the filename "new poems" for quite sometime. I cannot seem to continue it. I cannot seem to think of a title i would be happy to settle with. Until it slowly finds it way into a new poem enough for me to pass to John for SanAg5 - which is a love issue. Perhaps John was inspired by the newly launched Ani?

It doesn’t matter. What matters is that "Komposo Para Mi nang sa Ilustrado Kita Mag-rendezvous" popped - like "bolts of melody"- that one fine afternoon when I decided to edit it. And I bumped into Fykes who confirmed my struggling Spanish to be ‘it.’ I thought of "nang magkita" but since there are words like weyter, cellphone, sampaguita ice cream, i settled for rendezvous.

That’s the perfect word for it. Let it be that way: hybrid, multilingual. For isn’t it that’s what Kinaray-a actually is? I’m satisfied with the Filipino translation. Let it stay as it is - in the meantime.

Komposo Para Mi

kang sa Ilustrado Kita Mag-rendezvous

Genevieve L. Asenjo

Nagahurulog ang mga dahon kang samlague

sa lamesa nga ginpili natun pungkuan

sa gwa ka dyang tinapok nga restawran

siguro tungod tinapok man

ang magahurulog nga tinaga -

patas ka mga dahon kang samlague

gurang dun sanda agod mataktak

sa mga sanga ka aton paminsaron kag dughan.

May kahipus ang hapon nga tinublag

ka siyagit ka mga pispis sa paglupad

kang gulpi nagpondo ang sangka kotse -

daw atong gabii nga liwan tinugro

kang akon cellphone ang imo limug

kag naglikup kanakon ang kakunyag:

tumalagsahon nga daw sampaguita

ice cream nga gindara kanatun ka weyter.

Nangamyon ang sampaguita ice cream

sa akon pagginhawa kag nabanhaw

ang rapuyot nga mga adlaw 

kang aton pagpanglugayawan

sa isla ka aton kalawasan: pagsalum-butwa 

sa paminsaron kag baratyagon kang kada ‘sara

tubtob magdunganay ang aton mga kiay. 

Pero naga wara ang dumaan nga mga tinaga:

“Ga, kumusta ka ron? Nahidlaw ako.”

Ayhan ang saysay sa andang pagbuhi-mitlang

natun-an naton sa nagabalanse nga mga dahon

sa kahangian nga wara’t iba nga pagaagtunan

kundi ang pag-ampo sa pwersa kang lupa?

Gin-ilo ako kang kakunyag nga ang nagkamang

nga sirum nagbadlak kang kalagtum kag gintig-ab ko

ang nabilin sa dila nga katam-is kang sampaguita ice cream.              

Komposo Para Mi

nang sa Ilustrado Kita Mag-rendezvous

Genevieve L. Asenjo

Nahuhulog ang mga dahon ng samlague

sa lamesa na pinili nating upuan

sa labas nitong nakakubling restawran

siguro dahil nakakubli rin

ang mahuhulog na mga kataga -

patas ng mga dahon ng samlague

tuyo na sila upang mataktak

sa mga sanga ng ating puso’t isipan.

May katahimikan ang hapong ginulantang

ng hiyawan ng mga ibong lumilipad

nang biglang huminto ang isang kotse -

parang gabing iyon na muling hinatid

ng aking cellphone ang iyong tinig

at dinalaw-balot ako ng pananabik:

kakaiba, pambihira - parang sampaguita

ice cream na dinala sa atin ng weyter.

Nangamoy ang sampaguita ice cream

sa aking hininga at nabuhay

ang malalapot na mga araw 

nang ating pakikipagsapalaran

sa mga isla ng ating katawan: paglusong-ahon 

sa kapwa damdamin at isipan

hanggang magkatugma ang ating mga galaw. 

Pero bakit wala ang makasaysayang mga kataga:

“Ga, kumusta ka ron? Nahidlaw ako.”

Dili kaya ang saysay sa kanilang pagbuhay-bigkas

natutunan natin sa bumabalanseng mga dahon 

sa kahangian na walang ibang patutunguhan 

kundi ang pagsuko sa pwersa ng lupa?

Inulila ako ng pananabik na ang gumapang

na takipsilim kumislap ng luntian at inilunok ko

ang tamis na sa dila’y naiwan ng sampaguita ice cream.        

Another story on how a text message changed the course of my day and left a remarkable imprint.

It was Wednesday evening, Sept. 7.I’ve just promise to myself that I’ll be a hermit ’till Friday to do some reading and writing. But JP texted me that he is at the bus terminal for Laoag. Work. The bus will leave at 10. Enough hours for me to prepare and catch up. While I was thinking it through - money, money, money - he texted that it would be nice if we could be together. That was it. I packed and rushed to the nearest LRT station to MRT Cubao and I had to take a taxi since I thought it was at the Philtranco terminal. It was in Aurora, Partas bus terminal.

So now I come to know terminals.

It was a smooth ride but hell, I was freezing! A mental list of things to buy: a reliable sneakers after PJ coveted my rubber shoes and a cute bonnet,and yes, the dlsu jacket. I slept through the ride and woke up with a view of Vigan sky. Where are the bahay na bato and calesa? Leona Florentino and her house? I wondered why there were no vendors in the terminal. I was surprised it is clean.

Loaog is relatively progressive. The infrastractures are in place. Got to see bahay na bato and calesa. The streets and the market are clean. Saleslady are responsive. Carinderias have health sanitation certificate. They seem to take business and tourism seriously.

We decided to have a glimpse of the famous Fort Ilocandia. Indeed, it was beautiful. Just like a dream.Feeling ko nasa ibang country ako - with the landscape and seascape - and yet I was at peace. Wala man lang kaba eventhough we have to walk all the way palabas kasi wala nang sasakyan. Napakalayo ng Manila - kahit pala magkarebolusyon -and yet, di ako nagmadali. Was I psyching myself to be in a foreign, distant place?

Adeng, dalus,pakakitaan. I can understand the context and yet, it’s far strange compare to Bicol and Cebuano. And yet similarities surprised me in the museum. We are united by the ancient and the sacred.

Spooky, was how JP described that encounter with the late Ferdinand Marcos in the Marcos Museum at Batac after we visited the Mariano Marcos State University. I uttered some wish - I summoned his spirit to help me in the realization of that dream.

We also visited the library museum of Artemio Ricarte. Perhaps I can utilize some historical accounts of his life for another story? A meeting with Gen. Leandro Fullon? How about Estrella Bangotbanwa? Or Teresa Magbanua? The North meets/mates South? Hehehehe.

As we enjoyed the taste of empanada before we catch the 11:30 bus ride to Manila, we thought of Pagudpud, Currimao lagoons,La Union beaches,Sagada, Isabela, Cagayan Valley. We promised to save for it. But then, we got a place for a hundred bucks and had a goodnight sleep after a shower and hearty dinner in a carinderia.

I thought of a long-time plan to explore Puerto Galera. I know it really counts to have a working ATM or a bank envelope somewhere in the closet. But perhaps, indeed, all it takes is a buddy?

Travelling with JP proved to be meaningful. I felt safe and calm. 

R.K.Narayan’s My Days: A Memoir

    Naka-relate ako. It is rich and anecdotal. It opens with a picture of his boyhood in Madras and proceed to illustrate his schooldays in Mysore to his struggles as a writer and his insights on the fame brought to him by Malgudi. "Back to the soil," sabi niya sa last few pages as he describes his granddaughter as he remains to be immersed in his writings.

The Vintage Book of Modern Indian Literature (ed.,Amit Chaudhuri)

I’m happy to read this as it expand my little knowledge on contemporary Indian Literature. So I’ve come to know Raja Rao and I encounter once again Sadat Hasan Manto whose story "Odor" I enjoyed in my Hum 1 class at UP. I have to read this again. Sa’n na nga ba ang copy ko? Ipabasa ko kaya sa mga students…

Secret Places: New Writing from Nepal

Naalala ko kwento ni Doods nang mapunta siya dito. Napaka-poor daw saka ‘yung major streets parang Divisoria. Walang masyadong striking na piece sa’kin. I have to read this again. May mga pictures and yes, it’s images of poverty and undeveloped areas of the region.

Intertwined Lives: Margaret Mead, Ruth Benedict, and Their Circle

Nakakaintriga kasi biography ng dalawang lesbians, both married, na major contributors sa development ng anthropology. Tagal daw nila tinago ang kanilang relasyon and though kahit di palaging magkasama, as in super close and intimate raw ang bond na nag-exist between them until the death of Ruth in 1948. Ummm, kailangan ko ring basahin uli ito.

This is the first book by Rushdie that I’ve read though I long heard his "Satanic Verses" and "Midnight’s Children." And how I love him, how I love this book. It articulates what I am envisioning for my own novel. So I am in the right track? Reading this is a sign that I really have to pursue "Stranger is the water that I love" ?

It tells the story of Malik Solanka, historian of ideas and world-famous dollmaker who steps out of his life one day, abandons his family in London without a word of explanation, and flees for New York. It is political as it is pop. There was a mention of Filipino, courtesy of the guy who invented that "I love you" virus. Di siya bilib dun, and references to Star Wars, Harry Potter, etc.

Perhaps it’s time I’ll borrow from the lib his previous novels. For compre, that is.

That Sunday, before going to the book fair, I decided to pay a visit to Lem and Darl at their new-found place in P. Manahan Street at Pasay. I texted that I’ll join them for lunch. I have to see them - big sister thing - to see for myself what situation they have got in, even if I have already learned to let go and convinced that they have to be responsible for their lives. Especially now that they have decided to live together after a year of what remains to be a premature marriage.

The street on the way to their place was better than I expected. The house stood at the corner. It’s really a house, a two-storey with an extension for rent.  It has a garden with a monoblock table and chair. A fair lady wearing yellow Kamiseta shirt and in shorts, in her late fifties, greeted me. Lem told me it was she - the "Ate."

When I entered the house, it was gloomy. It was a bodega of statues of almost all saints, lamps, boxes, furnitures, bottles, etcetera perfect for garage sale. I would like to scream for an overhaul. It was like a museum waiting for a very patient and really skillful curator. Worst, Lem and Darl are settled in an open room yet remains to be gloomy with only one bulb. They said it is but temporary. Their ‘real’ room is there - the extension unit complete with amenities but they cannot yet transfer for the occupants are still waiting for the refund of their advance payment. And "Ate," despite her claim of richness, has no money to give. In fact, she is busy fighting a court case. A number of people turned out to be running after her.   

This alarmed me. They are a young couple. Manila is a place of swindlers; of evil. But Lem and Darl also told me that it is the "Ate" who are washing their dishes. She is lending them things to use. They are allowed to iron their clothes, watch tv, and other favor they cannot perhaps expect if they have not been here. They have also witnessed her loneliness. She is always crying, they said, at night. Saka palaging tulala and palaging nagpapatugtog. Her favorite is Imelda Papin. She wants them to stick with her. "Para ko na silang mga anak," she told me when I got the chance to talk to her about the situation of the couple. She promised that next time, upon my return, they will be settled in a nicer, more comfortable place. I told, in her face, that she better act toward its realization as consistency of word and action is very important to us.

As I walked toward the street for a jeepney ride to Buendia, I thought na mabuti na ring may nag-aalaga kay Lem; mabuti na ring vocal si Darl though at times napaka-confrontational niya ( I told her to be more diplomatic rather than to be a war freak. How I wish she will listen) kasi Lem is a silent type. Saka mas okey pa rin ang situation nila compare sa iba (but then, the squatter-like kind of existence should not be the standard) and sana nga, despite her lapses, "Ate" in her isolation will treasure them as her trusted companions. I am betting on the innate goodness of human beings. This is the way to live.

I get myself excited that Sunday morning after waking up to reality. I have more exciting and meaningful activities to focus on. I have to look for a book for KC and Zaldy after finding the cards at National that best articulate my feelings and thoughts for them. For LBC.

I thought of Sid’s "Cultural Fictions" for Z and a book of poetry for KC. Luisa Igloria’s "Blood Sacrifice" was my first choice but after texting KC and expressing his preference for Merlie Alunan or Marj Evasco’s works - because he has already read Luisa - I bought Merlie’s "Selected Poems."

I am both happy and sad that there’s no more copy left of "Cultural Fictions." Happy because it was sold - yes, Sid Cruz won The National Book Award for Literary Criticism from the Manila Critics Circle - and sad because I cannot send it to Z. I cannot wait for a copy from Iloilo so I rushed to the booth of UST for Dinah Roma’s "Feast of Origins" that also won The National Book Award for Poetry.

Isn’t it great to have award-winning friends? Umm,time to write my own…

I was also happy that Sir Leo Deriada won for his novel, "People of Guerrero Street," and Vince Groyon as I really did enjoy "Cursed Ground and Other Stories," and the Alon for "What the Water Said."

Maya and I enjoyed the cocktail and proceed to CCP for Agnes Locsin’s "Sayaw Likha Ang Kuikok." How I marveled at the elasticity and versatility of the dancers. Theirs was a smooth execution. The repertoire narrates of Ang Kuikok’s tragic, violent, and erotic pieces that in-between, Maya and I can’t help to remember a comment made by Fr. Bong when we asked about it during the awarding.

But something was missing in the way I felt about the whole performance. I failed to name it to Maya. Perhaps, it was my lack of vocabulary for dance? For painting? I don’t know. But I was simply glad Ms. Delia of CCP gave us a discount for the lowest ticket prize we got.

Last night was a beautiful Saturday night. I read my poem, "Sa Nobyong Hindi Naging," at the launching of ANI 31 of CCP at the book fair in The World Trade Center. It was my first time to read before a public and I was glad I was not nervous. Not because I was that prepared. Perhaps, I am now at this point in my life that I am convinced to write only excellent stories and poetry and be confident in sharing it if I would remain in this profession in this capitalist age. I was also glad to met Carlo Arejola whom I only used to read, courtesy of rare Bicol anthologies and HomeLife.

The copy was beautiful compare to other Ani issues I’ve read. Was it because it is a ‘love issue’ - it is dubbed "Metaphors of Love." What more because we’ve got two complimentary copies and a cheque good enough for my one-week grocery.

And He came though he was not there when I read. Thanks God, he brought with him his trophy that it spared me the illusion ala midsummer’s night dream. Yes, the anthology was sweeter especially with G Torres’s "Magpakailanman."