Tag Archives: madsantina

Tear Here


Original words deleted. Whew.

The last few months of last  year, I’ve mastered being alone and lonely on weekends and alone and lonelier on weekdays. Well, I kinda had “Life Challenges” messing with me that I thought being less available on Tumblr would help me cope. And oh, I stayed away from photography too, as well as sharp objects and high-rise windows. Looking back, I realized it made the feeling even worse–wrong move. Too bad I can’t undo the months I’ve wasted wasting away–touch move.

I am so thankful for the holiday season. No matter how sad, mad and bad I felt, it was  just indeed merry and happy! Ah gosh, the power of holiday food. And family of course. So I fought LC aka “Life Challenges” and told myself that I should never let LC keep me from going on with my life to the point of isolating myself from friends because that sucks and I only have a few.

LC, go to hell. Original words of this post were all about you, you prick.

P.S.: I missed sharing Me on Tumblr.

A Recap of Yesterday

3PM-ish | Booktrade @ Moonleaf  Tea House in Maginhawa

  • There weren’t a lot of books available for swapping but it didn’t matter because I intentionally didn’t bring any book to trade. I told one of the organizers, Jasmine, that I wanted my books ready whenever I want to revisit the stories. (I get emotionally attached even to non-living things.) So she offered the books available for purchasing each for only P100. There were a few books stacked on her desk, even lesser than those for swapping! I took home two classic books which story I have read in summary before (grade school) plus three free back issues of Status magazine. It’s been a while since I last leafed through glossies apart from those in beauty salons, can’t resist to check if my Pulp mags are rotting well. 
  • We had milktea of course and stayed but not long as we have clearly laid out our day’s wandering. 

4PM-ish | Bookay-Ukay and 55 Tinta still in Maginhawa

  • We. I was with my friend Grace. I left her at Bookay-Ukay (bargained books again!) and headed to the next door. 55 Tinta is a tattoo shop which I’m guessing is co-owned by Kamikazee front man, Jay Contreras. They have a number of tattoo artists and I spoke to one of them, Mark. I told him what I like, things I wanted to improve that I all learned from getting my first tatt. So I started asking about needles, kinds of inks and told him how I am very particular about the intensity of the color. I showed him a photo. “Eh Kana naman yan eh”. He’s telling me that I cannot achieve a tattoo quality like that on the photo because of my skin color. My inner self was furious. I have seen inked locals but the color was not compromised, still so loud and strong, but I didn’t ask. A tattoo artist’s talent is to consider only next to his sincerity. It was Jay’s vivid chest tattoo that brought me there in the first place. 
  • Grace sneaked, just in time, signalling me she’s bought a film camera. It’s a Bell + Howell BF35 like mine but now available P300 pesos with free film. She was the fourth girl I know who acquired a lomo cam since seeing it from me. I’m sneezing lomo and spreading it like a virus. 

4:30PM | Crazy Katsu still in Maginhawa

  • Early dinner prepping for a long travel to our final destination (for the day). Grace and I were craving for ramen, (which is around fifty percent of the time) and thought we might find it…well, there. As you know the dumb me, I was disappointed to know only katsus are served among the other few on the menu. I asked for the best-seller and confirmed my order even before the crew could answer.
  • I have longed for talks like Grace and I had. Somewhere in our conversation we talked about not pursuing a degree in college where we thought our meek talents fit. We were both brainwashed by environment as young aspirants for a career that isn’t money-making. She, with creative writing and I, with visual arts. Why I mentioned the above, keep reading. 
  • We realized we can talk sense if and only if we’re without the rest of the barkada. Otherwise, we talk shit. Literally. 

7:45PM | Virgin Labfest @ Cultural Center of the Philippines

  • Totong Hilot, the chosen full-length play this year tells a story of an uncircumcised (unnecessary adjective) 10-year old boy and his unwavering desire to become a hilot like his grandfather, whom he thinks will pass on the skill to him, he being the eldest grandson. Discouraged by many, Toto was determined to follow his grandpa’s footsteps despite the recognition he gets of his talent in writing early discovered at school. As the story unfolds, Toto chose writing as a profession while his father pursued painting towards the end. We can recall that neither professions can make money, so as the dialogues on the play plead true. 
  • But there’s no stopping, okay. There’s nothing like a burning desire to fuel you up. I just want to say that that’s close to the kind of environment we grew up. The belief that choosing a course in college is the first step of the money-making scheme, next is to land a job you can practice your acquired degree and voila, you’re filthy rich. The only thing that could make you rich is by living your dream job, may not be monetary, but at least. 
  • Howie Severino, my favorite i-Witness documentarist, watched the play too. (I remember when BrewRATs in 99.5RT guested him the night I was sick and didn’t make it to the radio station for OJT. How I pitied myself while I listen to the radio and the buzzing of nebulizer that night at home.) I asked if I can take a photo of him, he said he can’t pose alone, I didn’t mind him. Sporting my Yashica, I took a snapshot like a paparazzi. He asked if I can introduce myself first, I plainly said my name and Grace’s. “I’m Howie”. Come on, you need not say a thing for us to identify you. In fact, just by the photojourn’s vest you’re wearing I can recognize you. He asked where we live and I couldn’t remember if I answered right. I was so struck but still couldn’t resist a small talk with him. I told him l always watch i-Witness, I mentioned his docu Lukayo. “Tagal na nun ah”. Oh no! Why did I even mention that? It was that docu he made that suspended i-Witness for two weeks, give or take. Lukayo is a feast, celebration, procession dominated by women each holding a replica of the male genitalia dancing their way to the church! And what’s even more absurd is that they’re welcomed by their parish priest with good grace. I was so embarrassed. I just wanted to convince him that I am a fan ever since the world begun. That I remember the docu even if it was shown many years ago and was never replayed or will never be replayed on TV for that case. So I swift-switched to saying that I love his Rizal docus too among many others. (They were recently replayed in celebration of Rizal’s birthday.) Whew. He seemed pleased. He turned to my camera, “You like shooting film? I used to have that too.” Ugh. I knew it, his eyes wouldn’t miss that. He is a photographer, himself, and still carries a camera around his neck. I can identify it as a Nikon Coolpix, the camouflage design. I was talking about Yashica Electro when I realized there were people crowding behind us. I can’t be selfish, it’s time to share the moment to more fans. 

You are a loving heart and I am a stinking asshole.

When I was 9, we always pass by a bank walking home to San Nicolas from my lola’s carinderia in Kapasigan. She once said that she’d like me to work in a bank, her reason was convincing to me, “because it’s air-conditioned”. Since then, I always try to sneak what’s inside the bank whenever we pass by. I never asked what kind of work will I get there, what lingered in my mind for years is that she only wants me to work in some comfortable, air-conditioned place. That may be her drive to give me the best education she can with her meagre income. Up to this time, I still can’t believe how she got to afford a private school my entire grade school years from just selling gulaman. She uses a small table, the size of a living room center table, along the sidewalk outside my lola’s carinderia. There she makes her gulaman and stacks clear drinking glasses that used to be Nescafe bottles. She had tried selling lumpia too. She called me her “assistant” because I always wanted to take part in making one, so she had let me help her place the uncooked lumpia rolls in a tray or container for storage. She’d receive a few thousand pesos from Papa every month, which from what I’ve heard and understood from eavesdropping, is enough to pay the rent, electric and water bills.

We didn’t live a life bounty of even the necessities. It was a struggle. The kind of life we had taught her to save almost everything she can save. I pull random amount of toilet paper sheets, she would tell me to pull just two and fold it nice and neat. Until this day, she goes to my room early in the morning to turn off the lights or unplug the TV. I always mind her collecting disposable containers in the kitchen; she’d argue we might need them in the future. She never bought new clothes and still gets excited with hand-me-downs. By being frugal, she was able to make ends meet. She’s a master thrifter.

One night there was asthma attack. The nebulizer you bought me from borrowed money can’t help me. You gently massaged my chest and my back, stroked my hair. I asked you to bring me to the hospital; you look so scared and confused. You said we have no money. You didn’t bring me to the hospital, I can’t blame you. But I was in your arms the whole night. It made a difference, see I survived.

She’s not a perfect mother though; I am not a perfect daughter either. She had slapped my face out of anger from the compelling disrespectful words that came out of my mouth enough for any mother to disown a child. I deserve a hundred more of that from you, we both know that. I’ve hated you to the point of wishing you did not bring me to the earth. But you did with eagerness, with no thinking twice, selflessly, not thinking what a complicated life may be ahead of you given Papa’s status and lifestyle. I didn’t realize that so I disobeyed and broke your heart countless times. Once in high school I came home 3 hours late from school’s dismissal time. I saw you solemnly praying the rosary by the altar instead of taking your dinner. I wasn’t moved and I didn’t learn from that. I hated you because I always thought you did not work hard for us to overcome poverty and for always regarding Papa as the head of the family, the only person we all should obey whether right or wrong. I loathed that. Pursuing secondary school in a public school felt like losing face.

You don’t cook because you can’t. For years it is just now that you’re learning, taking notes when watching cooking shows and eventually serving us your experiments. I am so upfront in telling you your flaws, but you’d say nothing and just make the adjustments for it to go well with my taste. You are a loving heart and I am a stinking asshole.  

May 2, 2012. I have frightened you with my fainting in front of you. You’ve shaken me strong enough but it’s your trembling voice that brought me back my consciousness. You held my face tight close to your chest calling me not by my name but by the word ‘baby’. You called me your baby, Mama! I almost never heard that. Then a soft pressing in my head, it’s your lips, you can’t deny. I now know that I can be half dead anytime and only your touch and voice can bring me to life. There’s no other person capable of loving a bad girl like that. Only you can do that, Mama, only you. You are amazing.

Please do not grow tired taking care of me. By the way, I’d have to die first. When you’re seventy and still healthy, I’ll kill myself and just be sorry. The strength you have is capable with moving on with life without me better than me carrying on without you. I am so sure of that because you couple it with solid faith in God.

I suck at being a daughter but the rest of my years will be spent to make it up to you. Happy Mother’s day, Mama. Your baby loves you.

Santina’s not dead.

Hello tumblr! I’ve just risen from the dead and I hope you all welcome me back in your dashboards.

The past few days were my busy and worry-filled days that gave birth to my third blog. I don’t want to flood you with my sentiments, there are just too much you cannot handle it. My sleep has also been so erratic because of some engagements that require me to be up as early as 5 AM, when my regular sleeping time is 4. That’s one thing I cannot call this post a “Thoughts tonight” post because I just woke up. But I’m back in shape now, looking forward to more blogging and also to liking posts from you.

So, I think I owe this blog quite a lot of photos but I’m still thinking whether to share it. You know, when it’s been a while and the memory isn’t fresh I don’t know what to write or tag the photos with anymore.

Some updates:

  • I watched Titanic 3D at the worst SM Supermall branch, MOA. I hate it when the show started after a 30-minute delay that showed no movie trailers during the wait (a review on their cinemas can make a lengthy report but I won’t bother reviewing if it’s gonna be mostly cons). Anyway, it’s only been just now when I realized the awesomeness of the Titanic movie. I may have been (maybe) so naive back then when I last saw it when I was nine. From the actors, storyline, very creative cinematography, even the scoring to the littlest details like rats running along the corridor were just a few of the things I would click on “like” had it been on facebook. I’d like to share you a short post from MeriGuresu about her Titanic hangover.
  • One of the untitled books I have been looking for is now named and found and bought. The book is called RAGE by Alfredo Roces. It tells the untold story of Juan Luna’s life, him being in jail, not because of revolting against the government during the Spanish occupation but his killing of his own wife and mother-in-law.
  • I joined another company-sponsored program they called Foster the People (the name’s so catchy, at least for me cause it’s a name of an indie band too). It’s a livelihood program, where women of a small community in Valenzuela City were taught how to make tocino, fabric detergent, fabric conditioner and liquid dishwashing soap. I only have a few photos from this event and I don’t want to run short of photos in telling stories so if in case I fail to make a different blog entry about this, I say now that I enjoyed it so much also the small talks with my co-volunteers about lomo and interesting movies to see in theaters now (I said Titanic :P).
  • Kelly is leaving this May for a month-long Macau and Hong Kong vacation and I’m so jealous. :p No, I’m going to miss her so bad. I’ll kiss her 30 times before she leaves, one for each day she’ll be away.

%d bloggers like this: