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- 30 -
Saturday, April 17, 2010Thirty months ago, I was arguing strongly against me. I persistently wanted you to reconsider why you would want to say yes to a relationship with someone like me. Along Piy Margal, while sitting on dirt, and with an armory of discouragements, you still said yes anyway.
Thirty weeks ago, I was struggling with my political science thesis. I was arguing against the science in the political, until you walked me through Statistics. You believed in me. I was never the same - with a margin of error of ±3%.
Thirty days ago, I had troubles keeping up with my patience. I’m not the greatest at handling pressure from multiple angles. I spike, I crack, I breakdance, and I fart with no excuse. But you were always there. With love. With understanding.
Thirty hours ago, we were talking about our all-important future, like how many boxes of nachos to buy and how many salsa dips to go with it. Or like how many hours per day we’ll allocate to cuddling, studying, or playing Plants vs Zombies. Or like how many times we’re allowed to press the alarm snooze before getting out of bed.
Thirty minutes ago, we agreed to sleep the night away and wake up to the first day of the rest of our lives.
I’ll see you at 3 PM today, Honey. Walk some thirty steps down the aisle for me. I’ll be waiting at the other end, with the promise to not let you take a single step alone again. No margin of errors. No farting at will. No snooze.
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In journalism, “-30-” is traditionally used to mark the end of an article or story.
We end a story; then we begin a new one.
Iphone OS 3.0?
Tuesday, March 24, 2009Iphone 3.0 is coming… a sneak preview can be found here.
But honestly, nothing too exciting about these new features with the 3.0 update. Cut, Copy and Paste? Improved GPS? MMS? Notes Sync? Some are useful, fine. But not too amazing to make a big fuzz about it. Or maybe because the market these features are after is definitely not The Philippines.
I wonder when they’ll be able to integrate SMS forwarding… or a bundled, power-packed productivity / GTD app? Video recording? Or allowing custom message tones? Not necessarily my wishlist, its just that I wonder how they could have missed these apps when they came up with the Iphone.
And if the news are indeed accurate, Ipod Touch users will have to pay for the upgrade. Sad.
palabas
Monday, February 16, 2009“Isa kang anghel sa langit”
Sabi sa palabas na
pinanood ko kanina sa lobby;
Tumawa lang ako…
Pero ikaw sobrang natuwa;
“Ang sweet naman”
Magkaiba nga tayo ng mundo
Mayaman ka, mahirap
Ako
Gusto mo yung mga kending
pula sa tindahang bato
Gusto ko ung isaw na
itim sa baga dun sa kanto
Fan ka ni Nietzsche at Mao
Fan mo ako
Kilala ka ng lahat sa
Kolehiyo; sinudundan ng tingin ng mga
Kaklase’t propesor mo
Kinang ko nama’y singsing mo lang…
Isang editor ng ating dyaryo na
Iniisnab basahin ng mga kabaro mo
Iilang tao lang ang kilala ako
Iba talaga ang mundo mo…
“Gusto kita”
Sabi ko sa mga mata mong
nanonood ng palabas sa lobby;
(…tinawanan niya ako)
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© Ian Pestelos, circa 2002
the space between
Sunday, January 18, 2009The Space Between
The bullets in our firefight
Is where I’ll be hiding, waiting for you
The Space Between
Our wicked lies
Is where we hope to keep safe from pain
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Excerpts from the lyrics of “Space Between” by Dave Matthews Band
Perhaps the most romantic and realistic song I’ve heard
pathetic
Define pathetic…
It’s about that guy who just won’t take his eyes off the girl sitting beside him in a jeepney ride from Buendia to Monumento. Its his lurking eyes, scanning her face down to the bulges in her chest that he doesn’t have, further down to her smooth white legs as if he wants to touch every inch of it. Its his mind thickly clouded with the smokes of Taft Avenue. Its his desperate, sexually-driven intent to start a conversation of just about nothing while painstakingly zooming his eyeballs to every detail of the prey breathing next to him, short of tearing all her clothes apart. Its his persistence to catch her attention, when all he gets is a not-so-patient look from someone who’s trying so hard not to be hostile. Its his machismo stinking heavily in open air.
Define pathetic…
Its that boy who moved to the seat beside her when the first pathetic guy went off the jeep in Manila City Hall. Its his Joker-like smile flashed to that girl who just received an indirect sexual harrasment. Its his playful moves trying to lure the girl into a conversation about that man who raped her in his mind just a few meters ago. Its his lame intent to take advantage of what just happened to make her into a prey for himself, while painstakingly zooming his eyeballs to every detail of her just the same.
I commend the girl for keeping her ground, whatever that means. She could have avoided that though by adding extra inches to her clothes.
Define pathetic…
Its that man sitting at the end of the jeep, who witnessed all of it… who just sat there and watch them rape her indirectly. Its him who knew a very good hint of what’s actually going on in their heads, up and down. Its him who actually hated them but quite understood them just the same at those moments. Its that man who is also a man trying not to be a man in that perspective.
Define pathetic…
Its the deadlock amongst at least four of them in that jeepney ride from Buendia to Monumento.
Its that deadlock which perpetuates the status quo.
maynilad
Friday, January 16, 2009Please welcome the recipient of my first temper slip this year: Maynilad.
Imagine waking up at around 10am being alarmed by your neighbors because your water supply will be cut by Maynilad agents. The past months’ due is P0 - none, nada, nothing! - and the current balance due not earlier than next week is just P98. And people from Maynilad will come here and boastfully announce that they’re gonna cut off the water supply? Ridiculous. That’s water man. The river of life. Water that you need to cook. Water that you’ll use so that you won’t stink in the office. Water that is worth wasting if thrown to people like GMA to flood her away, together with some of her lame allies.
And for a balance, regardless of the amount, that is not due until next week? Wake up man. If my good neighbor didn’t bang our door to warn us, I might be on my way to the gym just to take a bath before I go to the office.
Mix-up? There’s no room for mistakes in these kinds of issues. Again, its water dude.
I promised myself I will be more patient, understanding, and accomodating this year; and I broke that this morning. I could have been sorry later on for boiling my temper up and lecturing around with an unfriendly tone of voice. But why would I if they didn’t even bother to apologize for the confusion (if that really is confusion, or if it just so happen they woke up on the other side of the bed or if the tooth fairy didn’t visit them overnight) after my mom handed them the bill. Not even an explanation - they just turned around and left.
I heard another neighbor commented, “Naghahanap lang yan ng pananghalian”. Welcome to the Philippines.
up diliman’s mang mel
Thursday, January 15, 2009I received the following entry in my Political Science block’s yahoogroup email. I thought it would make sense to post it here, I’m sure a lot of my fellow Isko (I wonder why the term now is UPians?) know Mang Mel from AS. We did a feature article about him around 2003 published in Sinag, the college paper of CSSP. I would say, he’s a really nice guy. An institution as some may call him, he’s the resident songbird of Palma Hall.
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Paying It Back for Mang Meliton a.k.a “Mang Milton”
Posted by Mike on Dec 26, ‘08 10:06 PM
Meet Meliton Zamora, a retired University of the Philippines janitor and my hero.
For forty-five years, he swept floors, cleaned up trash, watered plants and did odd jobs at the University.
I met him when I was active with the UP Repertory Company, a theater group based (then) at the third floor lobby of the Arts & Sciences (AS) building. He would sweep and mop the hallway floors in silence, venturing only a nod and a smile whenever I passed him.
Back then, for me he was just one of those characters whom you got acquainted with and left behind as soon as you earned your degree and left the university for some big job in the real world. Someone whose name would probably ring a bell but whose face you’d have a hard time picturing. But for many UP students like me who were hard up and had a difficult time paying their tuition fees, Mang Mel was a hero who gave them the opportunity to finish university and get a big job in the real world.
The year was 1993 and I was on my last semester as a Clothing Technology student. My parents had been down on their luck and were struggling to pay for my tuition fee. I had been categorized as Bracket 9 in the recently implemented Socialized Tuiton and Financial Assistance Program (STFAP). My father had lost his job and to supplement my allowance, I worked part time as a Guest Relations Officer at Sam’s Diner (back when the term GRO didn’t have shady undertones) and took some odd jobs as a Production Assistant, movie extra and wardrobe mistress.
To be eligible for graduation, I had to enroll in my last three courses and pay my tuition fee. Since my parents didn’t have enough money for my matriculation, I applied for a student loan hoping that my one of my Home Economics (HE) professors would take pity on me and sign on as a guarantor for the student loan. But those whom I approached either refused or were not eligible as guarantors. After two unsuccessful weeks of looking for a guarantor, my prospects looked dim, my future dark. And so, there I was, a downtrodden twenty year old with a foggy future, crying in the AS lobby. I only had twenty four hours left to look for a guarantor.
Mang Mel, with a mop in hand, approached me and asked me why I was crying. I told him I had no guarantor for my student loan and will probably not be able to enroll this semester. I had no hopes that he would be able to help me. After all, he was just a janitor. He borrowed my loan application papers and said softly, “Puwede ako pumirma. Empleyado ako ng UP.” He borrowed my pen and signed his name. With his simple act of faith, Mang Mel not only saved my day, he also saved my future.
I paid my student loan the summer after that fateful day with Mang Milton and it has been 15 years since then. I am not filthy rich but I do have a good job in the real world that allows me to support my family and eat three meals a day. A few weeks ago, a friend and UP Professor, Daki, told me that Mang Mel recently recorded an album which he sells to supplement his meager retirement pay, I asked another friend, Blaise, who’s taking his Master’s degree at UP to find out how we could contact Mang Mel. My gesture of gratitude for Mang Mel’s altruism has been long overdue. As fate would have it, my friend saw Mang Mel coming out of the shrubbery from behind the UP library, carrying firewood. He got Mang Mel’s address and promised him that we would come over to buy his album.
Together with Blaise and my husband Augie, I went to pay Mang Mel a visit last Sunday. Unfortunately, he was out doing a little sideline gardening for a UP professor in Tandang Sora. We were welcomed into their home by his daughter Kit. As she pointed out to a laminated photo of Mang Mel on the wall, she proudly told us that her father did retire with recognition from the University. However, she sadly related to us that many of the students whose loans Mang Mel guaranteed neglected to settle their student loans. After forty-five years of service to the University, Mang Mel was only attributed 171 days of work for his retirement pay because all the unpaid student loans were deducted from his full retirement pay of about 675 days. This seems to me a cruel repayment for his kindness.
This is a cybercall to anyone who did not get to pay their student loans that were guaranteed by Mang Mel. Anytime would be a good time to show Mang Mel your gratitude.
Mang Mel is not asking for a dole out, though I know he will be thankful for any assistance you can give. So I ask those of you who also benefited from Mang Meliton’s goodness or for those who simply wish to share your blessings, please do visit Mang Mel and buy his CD (P350 only) at No. 16-A, Block 1, Pook Ricarte, U.P. Campus, Diliman, Quezon City (behind UP International House) or contact his daughter Kit V. Zamora at 0916-4058104 .
Baka kilala niyo.
kopitok
Friday, January 9, 2009You got me
up and running
When you asked for that coffee break tonight
You can always do that
And I am hopeful…
waiting
to be invited to Starbucks
and grace you with White Chocolate Mocha
And a pack of smoke
My favorite Gingerbread Latte
can’t compare to that nano-second
You stared at my lips
It wanted to move
and take your breath away
I flirt with your eyes
while we argue why
Estrada was robbed of the Presidency
by the Supreme
Court
I could have handed you
my world
But you didn’t
stop lamenting about your frat guy
who treats you like his Ipod
hanging on his neck
and his crocodile sunglassess worn at sunset
You are his trophy
I could have handed you my world
If only you chained with my
pinky finger
playing with your hair
Love they say is blind
I believe them
But I desperately wanted to open my eyes and see
That I’m not your cup of coffee.
© Ian Pestelos 2006.01.17
sophia
Sunday, December 21, 2008I wrote this c. 2003.
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Sophia entered the room
and his world, a nebular eruption
But she doesn’t notice this
because hers is a pedestal
of fame and family
Yet he still dreams of Sophia
in an ice-grounded lame surface
on the other side of her island of folly
She lives in silence, apart from his
Existence
And sophia, lost
in an unreachable
ocean of visualization
He lives, and smells the fresh
fragrance of the perfume
she doesn’t wear
Maybe it’s under his nose;
He sees her kneeling in front of him
At the same time,
Sophia is staring at him from a distance
far away
Far from delusional thoughts:
He is patting the dog lying at his feet
in a place where once upon a time
He held her hand…
No pool of oblivion
Just touch of hand
His feet feeling a patch
of earth
of stones and sand;
Of only
stones and sand
© Ian Pestelos
hard fingers
I am disappointed with my writing. This blog is supposed to enhance my skills in the art, but for the past 4 months it seemed like I am over-exerting the effort to create a single entry. I really don’t pre-plan for topics to write about; whenever I open this page, I wait for my hungry fingers to work on the keys to cook the perfect soup of the day. That was the plan: spontaneity. But so far all I can think about is that its really not working for me. I guess I can never have the perfect soup recipe anytime I want.
But then after giving much thought, I’m usually able to write better, faster, in a very spontaneous manner when I am low, sad, depressed, challenged, fired up, or pissed off. Not to imply that I don’t get to feel those things anymore, but perhaps I just found a way to pile up such negative emotions in a single box that I will leave at my gate at the end of the day, before I retire to this life in megabytes per second. That’s actually good, right? Could I attribute this to maturity? Well, actually, I’m thinking of ‘old age’.
Perhaps I should look for more motivation than negative emotions (and software manuals, lol) in order to write with ease and with passion. The only problem is, I am boring. I am detached. I always rethink the idea of fun which complicates things. And most of the time, I am stoic…
…which could probably explain why technical writing works for me
…and why I became a news editor in College, not for features
…and why my fingers get harder to work with every writing day.