Lost in Uncertainties

[ A Trilogy of senseless(?) stories in 150+ words ]

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"May tama ka!", patiling-sigaw ni Kris Aquino na naka-side view, sabay turo sa contestant na halos mahulog ang underwear sa lakas tumalon at sumigaw na animo’y nanalo ng jackpot sa sweepstakes. “Thank God, yes!” sabi nya habang tumutulo ang luha sa kaligayahan, hindi makapaniwala na natalo nya ‘yung mukhang nerd na contestant at masama kung makatingin. Kanina lang halos lamunin na sya ng kaba, hiya at takot. Pero dahil sa matinding pangangailangan at kapal ng mukha, nakuha nya ang sagot na “talilong” sa question kung ano ang nauna sa alpabeto (tulong, talong o talilong).  Pasok na sya sa pyramid round, konti na lang at makakaharap na nya ng personal ang super idol nyang si Ate Shawie, ang defending winner.  At habang umaakyat sya papunta sa pyramid, pairap nyang tiningnan ang mga naiwang contestant. “Better luck next time”, sabi sa kanila ni Kris habang mayabang syang nakipagkamay sa iba pang pumasok sa pyramid. Lima na lang silang natitira, tiningnan nyang mabuti ang mga makakalaban nya: seryoso lahat, handang pumatay para lang manalo “Tatagal kaya ako?”, usal nya sa sarili habang sumide-view ulit si Kris at patiling sumigaw …

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“Tinamaan yata ako sa kanya.” Ewan ko pero hindi naman ako nagpapahalata. Halos sampung beses na nga lang ako kung mag-text per day at hindi na rin masyadong makulit pag magkasama kami. Eh talagang ang lakas talaga ng tama, bullseye. Konting oras lang na hindi ko sya makita gusto ko nang basagin ‘yung ulo ko sa semento at umiyak magdamag. Ibang klase kasi s’yang nilalang, japorms pumorma at maangas. Makinis ang ulo, may headband na kulay pula at silver accessories. Ako naman parang gusto ko na s’yang halikan kung hindi lang dyahe. Ang hirap kasi ng sitwasyon, kahit gusto ko ng ipagtapat awkward pa rin. Bakit ba unfair ang buhay? Maiinlab ka sa ‘di naman talaga puwede. Sabi n’ya dati, ganon raw talaga para may challenge, hindi raw basta-basta binibigay para ma-appreciate mo ‘pag binigay na sa ‘yo. Sign ba ‘yun? Baka gusto nyang sabihin na “konting tiyaga na lang at magiging tayo na, basta huwag ka lang susuko.” Huwag naman sana n’yang patagalin dahil ‘di na rin ako tatagal.  ‘Di bale, umamin na naman si Rustom…

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“Tatamaan kayo sa akin!” Galit na naman si coach, kitang-kita naman ang ebidensya. ‘Wag kasi kayo makulit, sundin lang natin kung anong ipagagawa n’ya. Bakit kasi tayo ang sisihin n’ya eh siya naman my kasalanan. Last minute na pinasok pa si Martinez, anong magagawa noon eh tanga ‘yun. Crucial game pa naman. Kunsabagay, ‘di mo ba napapansin iba talaga treatment n’ya kay Martinez. Nagtataka nga ako dati kung bakit napasama yun sa team eh wala naming binatbat, lampayatot at ang hina ng pickup. Sa iyo ko lang sasabihin ito pero balita ko si coach raw mismo nagrekomenda sa kanya. Tayo nga sobrang nahirapan sa tryout, tapos nangitim pa tayo sa bootcamp, eh samantalang s’ya parang anak ng presidente na bigla na lang sumulpot sa team. Isumbong kaya natin ‘yan sa management or ipasalvage natin kay Tulfo. Makakakuha lang ako ng tyempo, papatulan ko talaga si lampayatot. Saka pare, napansin ko kamukha ni Martinez ‘yung bagong girlfriend ni coach…

[Note: Parental discretion is recommended. Best viewed if you don't know the author.]

In my hands is a class picture taken a decade ago. The photograph, as it was neatly placed in a picture frame, still captured the emotions and dispositions of the persons in it: innocent yet full of dreams. That was transparent in the say-cheese smile of 23 boys and 15 girls who marked their last day of elementary schooling. In the middle of the photograph, sitting beside the principal and the class adviser, was a proud boy having six medals and smiled the best. I was that boy. I was pinned “Best in Class.”

My six medals, as I understand now, were the fruit of my intelligence, patience, and sleepless nights. Before, I was confused why I needed to learn arithmetic while boys of my age were just playing basketball. I did not understand why I needed to memorize lengthy poems while others enjoyed watching Voltez Five. Neither did I know why I was in a quiz bee competition while my classmates were just telling tall tales and jokes.

Hard work pays. All the answers to these puzzling questions arrived on the day of our elementary graduation. Many moments of that grand day were still fresh to me: the expression in my mother’s face as she pinned my sixth medal, the adulation of the teachers and my classmates’ parents, and the standing ovation given to me by my classmates. I felt as if they treated me with great respect, trust, and praises. Which they really did.

They believed that I possessed wisdom of King Solomon. Adults asked my opinions about current issues. My parents considered my suggestions in running our business. My classmates wanted me to tutor them about lessons they hardly understand. Obviously all of these started after I grabbed six medals. I am a yuppie now, and they still considered me as their immediate adviser.

Perhaps that was the reason why I had this unusual meeting with a former classmate. She called me late-at-night and told it was urgent. I sensed nothing wrong believing that she just wanted me to do a last-minute assignment or a near-deadline research. So I was relaxed when I knocked their door but when she let me in and hurriedly pushed me to her bedroom, I started to worry. (Truthfully I thought of having a very intimate evening with her—for we were opposite sex in an inviting situation.) Unfortunately  another thing happened.

She closed the door. She started to cry. I let her lean into my shoulder. (And I became embarrass of myself for having a dirty mind.) I let her cry until the last tears dropped to her face. Afterwards, I start looking through her eyes. When our line-of-sight met I knew I am the same adviser again. The one that was awarded “Best in Class.”

She started talking. She had her story in details and as it reached the main point I was already dumbfounded. Her story is realistic yet unbelievable: a lady being raised in high morals, attended church every Sunday, a college scholar, full of dreams, and—most of all—was carrying a fetus for two months. It turned out that she had a seven months old relationship with a man whom, through shared love, caused this. It also turned out that that man had a blue collar job and acquired minimum wage, which is not enough to raise a family. He was willing, as she said, to carry on the responsibilities but they were considering another options. And she wants me to give her an advice.

Being in the actual situation, with life at stake, is difficult. I am a pro-life so my advice must something that will sustain the life of her baby. But I started to think its consequences: shattered dreams, unwanted child, and embarrassment and being outcasted. I remembered our elementary times where affection and sperm-and-egg-cells talks elicited fear to us, where crushes were all secrets or else you would become the subject of rumors. And then one of those innocent children was bearing a baby. I was speechless for a minute, she was too. Not until I uttered: “Abort the Baby!”

The decision, as for me, is the most appropriate in her situation. But the most devil and barbaric. So looking back, I still could not believe why I gave such advice. But probably I was just concerned to her future or I just can’t believe that she is no longer innocent. Or I forgot the risks of having abortion to her health and how sinful it is. Or I was not a good adviser.

It happened a month ago and, at that span of time, I received no news from her. I tried to get-in-touch via telephone but her mother was of no help: she spoke a little. She told me that her daughter was taking a vacation to their province—no more, no less. I wanted to ask her current condition, regarding her pregnancy, but I thought twice. What if my classmate’s parents still did not know her situation? Besides, I became embarrassed for suggesting their beloved a bad advice. I just consoled myself thinking that she would never have and abortion though I told her to do so. (Because she was raised in high morals, attended church every Sunday, a college scholar, and was full of dreams) But I still experienced a deep guilt and grief. The thought of losing her child was losing like none other—it was a long term bitterness. The sin of suggesting an abortion remained in the shadow of my heart—it was a dark place.

Still in my hands is our class picture. I am still looking to the innocent and young faces of my former classmates. I am trying to enjoy myself by remembering each of their names and the way we dressed and smile. But my eyes are glued to the young boy in the middle sitting beside the principal and the class adviser. I saw him having six medals, he being the “Best in Class.” I saw him giving opinions, suggestions, and advice. I saw him in an unusual meeting a month ago.

This time tears fell to our class picture.

simula ng magkahilig ang bagets kong pinsan sa gitara, napadalas ang jamming namin. doon ko na-realize na sa kanyang paningin eh sobrang tanda ko na pala, ‘yung tipong lahat ng sasabihin ko eh facts, bahagi ng buhay, at kapupulutan ng aral. akala n’ya sobrang talino ko na ultimo ‘yung subject n’yang seamanship eh alam ko. kaya minsan, habang full spirit kami sa pagkanta ng ‘crazy for you’, naisipan kong tugtugin sa kanya ‘yung ‘huling el bimbo’ ng eheads. medyo senti ako that time kaya kunting kwento at naibida ko sa kanila ‘yung panahon ko,a decade ago.

usong uso noon ang banda. halos lahat ng songhits may poster ni ely, at halos lahat memoryado ung magasin. tapos nagkapelikula pa si claudine at mark, pare ko, UP ang setting. natandaan ko na pinanood ko ‘yun kasama si ate. wow, sabi ko ganon pala sa UP, dapat don ako pumasok ng college. den naging isyu yung backmasking, pag binaligtad mo raw ung tape ng eheads eh maririnig mo ‘yung "hail satan,etc" na lines. halos dumikit na ang mga tenga namin at ng pinsan ko sa speaker ng radyo marinig lang ‘yung mga demonic chants pero wala lang. resulta, nasira ‘yung ultraelectromagneticpop at circus na tape. Uso rin noon ung "tangina". Galit na galit si lola kasi kahit ‘yung five years old kong pinsan memorized ang pare ko, kaya bago dumating ang chorus nakahanda na ang bakya nya upang paluin kami. nang dumating ang oras na kwestyunin ng senate ang lyrics ng alapaap, parang national issue naming pinag-usapan kung tama ba naman ‘yun. kahit na may tama ‘yung kanta, sumama pa rin kami kay ely sa pag "paparapapapapapaprapaparapa" nya. ng-field trip kami sa tagaytay, batangas, etc kasama pamilya ko at halos 100++ times naming kinanta ‘yung overdrive, bagay naman di ba? xmas time, nilabas ng eheads ‘yung fruitcake, freshman ako non at bagong salta sa manila. natapos kong basahin ‘yung 250 pesos nilang libro sa national bookstore habanag nakikipagpatintero ako sa saleslady na ayaw akong tigilan kasi bawal daw basahin ‘yung book na limited edition.

sikat na si ely, at mayabang na rin. kahit nagmamakaawa na sa pagrequest ung audience sa UP fair, hindi pinagbigyan. at bihirang ngumiti, basta kanta lang ng kanta. pero swerte talaga ang grupo, nanalo pa for the first time in philippine music industry ng best music video sa MTV. el bimbo ‘yung entry nila, at nakakapangilabot raw ‘yung video sabi ng klasmeyt ko na die-hard  eheads fan rin. biglang nag-increase ‘yung sales ng chippy, coke, atbpa. may jingle kasi ni ely. lalong silang yumabang, at habang unti-unting sumisikat ang mga solo artist, nalunod sa kayabangan ang eheads. last album nila, halos hindi nagmarka sa record charts. ako naman, naging busy sa pagsuyo sa GF ko. at habang pabagsak ang heads, tumataas naman ang pogo points ko.

ten years after, hindi na ako bagets. at hindi na rin uso ung cassette at discman. almost 60 seconds lang pwede nang i-download sa limewire ung MP3 ng magasin. name the song & pwede na kitang gawan ng CD compilation ng eheads. grabe na rin piracy, pero unti-unti umuuso ulit ang banda.

Ang bulak ba ay kamag-anak ng bulaklak? Hindi mabango ang bulak, hindi rin ito makulay maliban na lang kung papatakan ng cologne o lulunurin sa pintura. May bulaklak na malambot, meron ring matigas, ngunit walang bulaklak na nabubuhay mag-isa. Marahil nagkataon lang na may rhyme ang dalawa kaya marami ang nagkakamali na sila ay isa.

Katulad natin. Ayaw kong ipaliwanag ang ano, bakit at paano kasi manganganak na naman ‘yun ng maraming ano, bakit at paano. Basta naramdaman ko na kelangang maging  isa ang bulaklak at bulak kahit magkaiba sila. May mabangong bulak dahil itinabi ng matagal sa bulaklak, may puting bulaklak ang ina ng bulak. Isa na nga sila sa pandinig at artipisyal na anyo, isa na rin tayo kahit maraming pagkakaiba. Sabi sa alamat, kasing-tigas raw dati ng bato ang bulak, lumambot lang ito dahil sa isang buklaklak. Masaya ka ba na malambot ako, at kapiling kita?

A piece of wet cotton can wipe the dirt in my face but only you can clean my soul. Initial rub seems to be the toughest and dirtiest, and I wonder if the "poor soft thing" can still handle succeeding rubs. You seem to handle me very well despite of my muddy past and oily status. I am so tough and dirty. I need more cotton, I need a push. Actually, I need someone to rub me forever. I seem to confuse you because I am a confused person. I am glad you’re there not to confuse me more. Nobody can serve both masters at once. Am I really a master of my own emotion or a slave of my own soul? I finished cleaning my face. Pass me more cotton, I need to wipe another dirt in my mind.