This "Uninvited Foliage" is Not My Own (Throwback Essay)

Warning: For Mature Readers Only

When I was in college, I was invited to a poetry reading program. The event was held in the Arcellana Library in the Faculty Center at the University of the Philippines. I was very nervous because it was going to be my very first poetry reading session. I had attended poetry reading sessions before, but the attendees were mostly my classmates or members of the so-called "illegal" U.P. Writers' Club. Why was it called "illegal?" It is a long story and we'll discuss it some other time. Brevity is the key.

This time, the small event would be attended by published student writers and faculty members of the English Department. Therefore, there was a real reason to be anxious because I would be among established and published writers and professors. To be given a slot to read my unpublished poem was an honor.

The mood was festive, and I was shaking but trying my best to contain my terror and elation. I was with poets and real writers, and I felt that a door was open. The gods and goddesses of Philippine literature had welcomed this "little cricket," as I secretly called myself during those days.

“Happy August the Tenth: From Tennessee Williams to a Surreal Play. My University Theater Experience” (Essay)

Vocabulary

1. Fall head over heels: Become very excited or in love with something.
2. Entertain the idea: Think about or consider something.
3. Fueled by: Driven or motivated by something.
4. Stumbled across: Found something by accident.
5. Unsettling piece: Something that makes you feel uneasy or uncomfortable.
6. Dysfunction: Not working well or being disorganized.
7. Resonate: To make you feel something strongly.
8. Spark: To start or cause something.
9. Somber: Serious and sad.
10. Morbid: Relating to death or sadness.

Essay: "Exploring the Multiverse - Infinite Possibilities, Dark Energy, and the Parallel Versions of You"

Or "Somewhere Out There, I am Having a Great Time" (The Theory of Multiverse and How It Affects You)
First published: May 5, 2013

Somewhere out there, in the vast, expanding universe or multiverse filled with infinite possibilities, “I am having a great time.” This statement may seem preposterous to some, but it makes sense if your mind operates in a different paradigm. Now, before I drown you in highfalutin terms and lose you for good, let me bring you back to Earth.

One of the leading hypotheses in science today is the theory of the multiverse. We do not live in a singular universe that is slowly contracting after the Big Bang. The old idea stated that the universe must be slowing down after the Big Bang because the gravity of different types of matter would pull matter closer to one another. To paraphrase physicist Brian Greene, it is like throwing an apple into the air and expecting it to come down because of the Earth’s gravity. Our universe is contracting. However, scientists have discovered that the universe is actually expanding more rapidly than we previously imagined. It is like throwing the same apple up into the sky, and it hurls out into space instead of coming down to Earth. Scientists postulate that galaxies will eventually be pushed further apart from one another, and vast empty blackness will be created in between. Consequently, future generations will look up at the night sky and see the absence of stars—just black sky. That is, if there is still life on Earth when that happens. [1]

Essay (Cover Story): "Nora Aunor, Banaue, and the Ties That Bind"

The first movie I ever watched was Banaue, directed by Gerardo De Leon. It was a film unlike anything I had seen before, and I will always cherish the memory of that moment. I was sitting in my grandmother’s house, a place where I spent countless afternoons, and together, we watched this film that would stay with me for years to come. My grandmother, a devoted fan of Nora Aunor, was a true Noranian, and for her, watching her beloved actress on screen was something magical.

As a child, I was accustomed to cartoons and lighthearted kids’ shows. But Banaue was an entirely different world. The film's portrayal of the native Filipinos before the Spanish colonization was so surreal to me. Growing up in a rural town in the Philippines, where Catholic traditions were deeply rooted and life was simple, this ancient culture felt almost foreign. It was as if I was watching a different people, a different time, and a different way of life. The attire, the rituals, the daily lives of these people — everything felt distant, like a story from another world.

Essay: "The Cat Who May Have Started Believing in Me"

There are many paths to enlightenment, but I never thought one of them would involve a black-and-white cat staring up at me from the middle of the street as I brushed my teeth. Yet, here we are. The universe, it seems, has a sense of humor. Or perhaps it simply prefers the absurd.

It all started innocuously enough. My house faces a small street where stray cats roam freely, engaging in nightly battles for food and territory. These battles are dramatic, high-stakes brawls akin to an absurdist play, complete with a fair share of noise, fur, and confusion. The cats, you see, are not above leaving their mark on the houses they visit—peeing and pooing on roofs and occasionally in ceilings. I don’t know which is worse: the constant reminder of their existence in my home, or the fact that I can’t quite bring myself to deal with them in any...final way.

Instead, I’ve taken to sealing all entrances they might use to enter my house. This, of course, is an ongoing project, like a modern-day Sisyphus pushing a boulder uphill—except the boulder is a colony of ever-determined felines. Yet, in the midst of this battle, I find myself in a moral conundrum. You see, I’m not a monster. I can’t throw away food. I’ve always been uncomfortable with waste, especially when I know that, in other parts of the world, people are starving. And so, instead of tossing out my niece’s leftover meals (which tend to pile up like neglected dreams), I decided to feed the leftovers to the cats.

“Is ChatGPT My New Bestie?” (Or The Real Deal on Getting Rich: Straight Talk with ChatGPT)

Let's get straight to the point. I asked ChatGPT how to be rich and as expected, the Great Digital Deity gave me an icy yet objective list of things to do. The usual stuff came up.

I need to educate myself. I have to set clear goals, even advising me to define the word "rich." As always, I must create a budget and save. Dear Lord, not the "s" word. Chatty also recommended that I invest wisely. In this volatile market?! And gulp, I must increase my income. Tell that to my many employers, past and present! Managing my debt, I have to admit, is a very sound piece of advice. However, building networks and relationships and starting my own business seem daunting and time-consuming. And as any wise old guru, ChatGPT calmly reminded me to be patient and persistent. To top it all, like your run-of-the-mill therapist, Dr. Chaterine Gupta, ChatGPT MD,  urged that I make smart lifestyle choices. Say what? Aren't we a little bit judgy here, doc? You don't know me. Who are you to question my lifestyle choices?

Ten Signs that Prove that a Guy "Really Likes" You

SHORT SUMMARY (for those who prefer a quick read)
- summarized using ChatGPT
The full text is below the summary.

The author outlines ten signs that indicate a guy genuinely likes you and seeks a meaningful relationship, not just a casual fling. Key signs include asking for your number, showing up at events, adopting your interests, and prioritizing time with you. He listens, avoids discussing you with friends, and makes an effort to see you. If he doesn't make excuses and is honest, he's likely invested. Ultimately, for clarity on his feelings, consider asking another man for an objective perspective. However, these signs may not apply to unconventional individuals or those deeply focused on their careers.

 

Reeducating a Former Evil Manager or Lessons That I Learned as a Manager (A Series of Essays) Part 1: “Are You Acting Like an Elitist Middle Class Prick?”

Image: Public Domain

A few months ago, I accompanied a friend to a department store because he wanted to buy a sofa. We found an attractive blue sofa on sale but my friend wanted a different color. We manage to get the attention of one saleslady who just happened to be rushing pass us. We asked her if only the blue sofa was on sale. The saleslady was slightly startled, but she politely stopped. She listened attentively but she was clearly anxious, perhaps she was rushing to entertain another customer before we stopped her. She then told us that she did not know if only the blue sofa was on sale but she would ask, and told us to wait. Afterwards, I scanned the department store and realized that the place was understaffed. On top of that, I saw many impatient and annoyed customers standing with their arms akimbo, or folded on their chests, clearly unsatisfied. As we wait for the saleslady to return, my friend inspected some furniture while I secretly observed a female customer complaining loudly to the cashier and another salesclerk at the counter. After some time, the customer grabbed her plastic bag and left angrily.  Both the cashier and the clerk looked humiliated but they just continued serving other customers, a few of them also looked annoyed, as if to signify that they agreed with the female customer who just stormed out.

It suddenly hit me. I was that woman before.

The Dishes that Continually Diss Women or “Why It is All Right to Hurt Your Spouse or Some Family Members If They Do Not Wash Their Own Dishes”

First published in “Sardonique” on May 21, 2011

Our Mother's Day Post: 
The best way to a man’s heart is to his stomach. This is not entirely true.  The stomach is just a stopover, the best way is further south but that is another story. My other theory is the best way to turn genteel women into violent men-killers is to have a messy kitchen and a clueless male partner. 

In my family, the men are always the best cook but we are often the worst people in the kitchen because we are messy and a tad bit emotional and obsessed as amateur chefs.  My mother was not always particularly happy whenever my father cooked.  He would come out with the best dishes but with the messiest kitchen. On top of that, the sink ended up looking like a miniature leaning tower of soiled plates and utensils.  My dad cooked the best Filipino dishes; when I was a little boy, I particularly remember his kare kare or ox tail stew (or ox tail in peanut sauce).  It was the only kare kare that I almost love and that is something considering I have never like this famous Filipino dish.  After my dad passed away, my younger brother wore the family toque and he is a genius in the kitchen.  He can create restaurant-style dishes with just the boring ingredients found in any house full of lazy grocery shoppers.  With just a few pieces of tomatoes, some inconspicuous herbs, onions, garlic and eggs, he can create a sumptuous egg dish that you probably would pay around 300 pesos in an expensive Italian restaurant in Makati.  The drawback is the kitchen becomes messy and that often turns my mom into Glenn Close ready to boil a rabbit.