the space between

The 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

- - - - - - - - - - -

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

Please 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

I 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.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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

You 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