I don’t know if it’s a girl-thing, but I have this peculiar ability of attaching memories to places. I remember places by the way they once made me feel, or by memories I thought I already forgot. It’s a curse and a gift at the same time. Curse, because even when I don’t want to remember what happened here or there, I can’t help but do. Gift, because that also means that I get to contain memories in places, hence avoiding those places will ultimately make me forget and help me move on.

Exhibit A. Sometime in 2006, I had to avoid Greenbelt for one whole year because I had to forget a college boyfriend. Typical, I know, but effective nonetheless. Exhibit B. In 2007 when my Dad died, I had to avoid being in his office for a couple of months because it’s impossible to be there and not cry over the reality that we’re never going to see him there ever again. Exhibit C. In my last day in New York in 2008, I had to ask the cab driver to pass by 34th street on the way to the airport. Just one last ride through my most favorite spots in Manhattan, I thought, because I knew that after that ride I would start to forget. And that time I didn’t want to forget just yet.

In the past 5 years that I lived in Ortigas, Pasig, my moving from one apartment to another was characterized by some huge transition in my life — my Dad’s death, that big career move, a relationship that ended badly, etc — as if it’s become a coping mechanism of sorts. Consciously or unconsciously, I wasn’t quite sure. I just know that for me to be able to transition, I had to start over in a new place, akin to flipping a fresh new page in a notebook.

Six is the number of apartments here in Pasig that I moved in and out of in the span of 5 years. Anyone can beat that record? If moving is a degree in college, it would’ve been time for me to graduate by now. But I guess it’s not time to graduate from this moving around just yet.

In all this apartment-hopping, Delgado Place was where I stayed the longest. Not only was this low-rise condominium the prettiest and the most secured I’ve ever lived in, it’s also the one place that actually felt like second home to me. The guards and caretakers have become an extended family. “Adobo To”, that karinderya (eatery) across the street, has become my most favorite lunch hangout.

I loved living here. I honestly believed I would stay longer, that this was going to be my last stop, but hey, life’s funny that way. Often, the things you thought you were so sure of, you find out later, are just mere phases in your life. Nothing is certain, I learn over and over, so you’ll have to be ready to pack-up, leave the unnecessary baggage behind and go when God says it’s time to go.

Tomorrow I make my 7th move. I have been feeling sentimental about it the past two weeks, boxing up everything in this room that once made it feel like home. But I’m almost ready, and excited to make new memories in the next city I’m going to conquer.

“..and with that, we say goodbye to Delgado Place,” Mae tweeted after she & Joni spent one last night here in Delgado with me. Glad to know I’m not the only one sad to leave this place behind.

So yeah. Thank you, Delgado Place, I just had to say (and blog). It was lovely spending 2008 and 2009 under your roof.

There’s something undeniably refreshing about being around kids. Sure, they can be little monsters in their worst days and can be quite a handful at times. But their silly questions, wide-eyed curiosity, and their ability to make you appreciate the simplest of things is a real source of joy — that I can attest to.

You see, I started handling a Sunday School class in church yesterday. And for the next couple of Sundays, I get to have this wonderful job of sharing Bible stories to pre-schoolers, thinking of activities that they will enjoy, and babysitting them while their parents attend the Worship Service.

I didn’t really think I have the patience and attention span required to handle such responsibility, but time calls forth little changes in this life of mine and I have to make conscious efforts to get out of my zone and do stuff I was too complacent to try. Sad to admit, quarter life has so far made me bitter, overly serious, lonely and overworked, and I srsly need something to take me out of this rut I’m in.

So yeah. I signed up for this job in hopes of getting some sunshine back to my once-sunshiney self.

And trust me when I say that I see something wrong with that too because hey, as a Sunday School teacher, you should be the one putting something on the plate and ministering to the kids, right, and here I go looking at these kids as if they’re a bunch of therapists. Perhaps that’s the thing that has drawn me towards this ministry — you reach out to these kids hoping that they pick up little somethings out of the Bible stories you share to them and your funny interactions in class, but in hindsight, they’re actually the ones making a huge difference in your life. And the fact that they’re actually unconscious about it (that they’re instrumental to bringing forth answers to your adult life’s issues and dramas) makes the whole thing even more.. heaven-sent.

Sunday School to me is an answered prayer in every way.

Time and time again I get to be reminded why Jesus loves little children, and why He wants us to keep that childlike faith. Because children are happy little people. They have the most genuine smiles. They listen attentively, laugh much, say what’s in their minds. They ask a lot of questions, they seek for answers. They cling on and ask for help when they don’t know what to do, without any pretensions nor pride. They trust blindly, believe wholly, love easily.

I’m happy for the opportunity to have some of their sunshine rub in on me.

Edit. Thanks, Ate Jam, for sharing this verse:

1 At that time the disciples came up and asked Jesus, “Who then is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”

2 And He called a little child to Himself and put him in the midst of them,

3 And said, “Truly I say to you, unless you repent [change, turn about] and become like little children, you can never enter the kingdom of heaven [at all].

4 Whoever will humble himself therefore and become like this little child [trusting, lowly, loving, forgiving] is greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

5 And whoever receives and accepts and welcomes one little child like this for My sake and in My name receives and accepts and welcomes Me.”

Matthew 18:1-5

The Filipinos’ voluntary and immediate response to give whatever help they can give to those who lost their homes and loved ones over typhoon Ondoy still gives me goosebumps. Along with the outpouring of rain in the past few days came the outpouring of compassion among Filipinos.

Empty shelves in Supermarkets are signs of, not panic-buying, but people hoarding boxes of canned goods, instant noodles and bottled water to bring to evacuation centers and establishments where relief operations are being held. #Ondoy and #Philippines being trending topics on twitter shows the concern and active participation of the youth in disseminating information online. Everyone just wants to sympathize, to be counted and to extend help.

Sure, many have given up on the Philippines already, but it is in times like this that I feel most hopeful. I see it as another opportunity for us to be united as a country, to rise above the situation, and to trust that God knows what He’s doing in our lives.

That’s my feet, in the photo, as I stood beside a batch of relief goods that were gathered and repacked this week in church to give to typhoon victims. I know my individual efforts are minuscule, but collectively I’m confident that we — all of us (anywhere in the Philippines and in the world) who took part — made a difference that we wouldn’t have achieved if we all chose to just stay at home, watch the news and do nothing. (Come to think of it, if you’ve been watching the news, you just CAN’T NOT do anything).

How about you? Where have your feet taken you lately?

[This photo was taken as part of the Unravelling E-course I'm taking for the next 8 weeks, how timely it is that the e-course started on this very week.]

* * *

A lot of Filipino families are still trapped in their homes that are still drowned in mud and flood. And that’s on top of another super typhoon, that’s currently in the Philippine territories at the time of this writing, which will surely leave more people devastated. We need as much help and prayers we can get.

To those of you who find it in your heart the burden to help these victims, posted after the jump is a list of establishments and organizations that are currently doing relief operations for Ondoy victims. For donations through Paypal and Credit Card, you can course them through Philippineaid.com.

(more…)

Alexis Tioseco may now be gone, but these very words he once wrote that was published on the pages of Rogue Magazine is eternal.

I was not aware of film critic Alexis Tioseco’s existence — I’ve never really been one to appreciate indie and/or art films, much more the Philippine Cinema, sorry Alexis — until yesterday, when I received this text from Marian:

My friend, film critic Alexis Tioseco and his Slovenian girlfriend, Nika [Bohinc], were robbed and shot yday night in their house in QC. Please pray for comfort for family and friends they left behind.  They are a lovely couple and among the nicest people I know.

It was sad, I thought upon receiving the text, knowing how it’s like to lose someone you love, how much more to lose someone over such a tragic fate. But you see, my real “attachment” to Alexis and Nika started about 30 minutes ago, when I read this article written by Alexis himself sometime last year.

So that was their story, I thought after reading Alexis’ love letter. Brought together by their love for film (Nika was also a film critic in Slovenia), Alexis and Nika shared a love story that was not bound by cultural differences, nor the distance between Manila and Slovenia. They could be anywhere in the world living a comfortable life together, but Alexis chose to stay in the Philippines because of his love for Philippine Cinema, and Nika, having understood this form of love, agreed to move here as well.

“The first impulse is always one of love,” Alexis said. Those words, along with this beautifully written love letter, were enough for me to know what kind of life Alexis (and Nika) lived.

My dear Nika,

If there has been a single cause of strain that has stuck out in our relationship it is this: the idea of my attachment to the Philippines, the strong desire you see that I have to live and work here, and the way that, perhaps, you see this as a matter of misappropriate priorities. Does a place mean more than a person? Does my work in the Philippines mean more than the possibility of a life with you, somewhere, anywhere else? Must it be you that moves, makes the (I know you hate the word, but let us use it) sacrifice of moving? And what, if anything, does that say about us—that the scales of our love weigh more heavily on your chalice?

I know you’ve come to terms with the idea of moving here, hopefully next year, we discuss—but I still feel the need to talk a bit more about some of my reasons for wanting to stay, at the very least for the meantime. I’m not attempting to compare my affection for Manila with yours for Slovenia, but only to explain the thoughts that go through my head, the things I feel I must do, things that, perhaps, we can do together.

Yours,
Alexis

It has always amazed me how a piece of article or letter  you wrote years ago, or a sentence you unknowingly said, or a photograph you randomly took, can speak not only a thousand words but anecdotes that people will talk about and draw inspiration from for years to come, long after you’re gone. Such is this year-old article written by Alexis.

What happened to Alexis and Nika — their life, their written work, their passion for the film industry — is a reminder for all of us to stay true to our word, to live a life worth sharing to others, to love unceasingly, and to live each day as if it’s the last.

“The first impulse is always one of love.”

Thanks Alexis and Nika, for living up to those very words. May you both rest in peace.

Edit. A few hours later.

Other blog tributes to Alexis and Nika:

• The first impulse is always one of love (Alexis Tioseco 1981-2009) | Marian
• In Memory of Alexis Tioseco | Rogue Magazine
• Nika Bohinc and Alexis Tioseco : Friends and Critics | Theauteurs
• Of Love, Life, and Loss | Movie City News
• Alexis A. Tioseco, R.I.P. | Jonathan Rosenbaum
• RIP Alexis Tioseco (1981-2009) | Richard Bolisay
• Alexis Tioseco (1981-2009) | Francis Cruz (perhaps the most beautiful tribute to Alexis I’ve ever read)

*Alexis used to blog at http://alexistioseco.wordpress.com.

I think I’m going to cry.

Today, my Hillsong Conference 2009 pass and registration receipt finally arrived at my doorstep. But unlike last year, I’m not jumping up and down now. Instead, I think I’m going to start tearing up when the lights are out.

The conference is in less than two weeks. I have all the support documents that I need, but because of the recent events the caught me by surprise, my schedule got totally screwed and working on my visa application had to be delayed. Admittedly, there’s no one to be blamed but myself and my horrid habit of putting things off up to the last minute. I should’ve prepared my documents a month ago.

It’s just like last year. I submitted my visa application one week before the conference started, confident that I would get my passport and visa back in 3 days (like they promised in their immigration website) but, for some reason, I got them back one week later, exactly on the day the conference ended. (Blpht, so much for not making the same mistake twice, ikr.)

But you know how God has a reason for everything, and how He always knows better. While I failed to attend the July conference last year, I was still able to see Hillsong last November.

Now, holding this familiar-looking Hillsong envelop in my hands, I just can’t help but think of the big possibility that this conference pass will (once again) be put to waste. In my head I start re-counting all those plane tickets, concert tickets, and now, Hillsong conference passes that I spent for but never got to use. I could’ve bought a new camera with all that money!

But okay, the unnecessary expenses was not the reason why I was sad to see the package delivered to me this afternoon. It’s just that, I find myself wishing I never laid eyes on it at all, you know, for the sake of not rubbing it where it hurts. I actually almost forgot about it already, and I didn’t want to be reminded!

I have wanted so badly to experience the Hillsong Conference since 2003. I’m not about to linkback to all the blog entries I made all these years (from across 5 blog urls and 4 blogging platforms), but let me just say, I blogged and journaled everything about my quest to fly to Australia and experience Hills with a passion. Frustratingly, year after year, the timing was still not right.

So yeah, let me wallow in depression just for, er, I duno, 11 more minutes I guess. I promise to be back to my sunshiney self as soon as I hit publish.