Dear PNoy,
You already got what you want: impeached na si Chief Justice Corona. Now, can you at least try to work? O kahit siguraduhin mo na lang na wala ng escorts without wang-wang na pipigil sa traffic para makadaan ang VIP na epal in black cars, ok na ko dun. Thanks.
Dyosaimma
Yesterday, I was one of the lucky few who heard a great man speak. I’d like to think that he’s great for he has a legion of people following him–he raves about Apple and people save up for a MacBook; he shows the first ten minutes of Three Idiots and people start dividing the movie in chapters and discuss it in small groups for weeks. Without meaning harm or sarcasm, I’d like to think that this man is a great one.
So there I was yesterday, trying my best to listen to what this great man had to say to adolescents waving goodbye to the simple, grade school life and I was so stunned when he started talking about how the schools that we have now don’t offer anything for the brilliant minds that we have. I heard him speak a year ago at the same event and he sort of said the same things.
I felt really sad for this great man. Why? He said that people from UP only end up as domestic helpers–and UP is the best school in the country. What’s wrong with being a domestic helper? It is a decent job and it’s way better than stealing or scheming just so one can earn money. Besides, most people from UP get decent jobs here in the Philippines. Ugh. He also said that no other school offers real education but the one that he built. This great man that I’m talking about came from Ateneo, by the way. I felt so sorry for him because he has so little belief with the things that we have. Yes, UP is not the most beautiful school in Manila and the National University of Singapore will dwarf the newly constructed physics and law buildings in UP, or even Ateneo for that matter, but is it really necessary to say these sort of things to a graduating class?
There were speakers before this great man and they all told inspiring stories about people from UP and they challenged the graduates to do the same–to work hard, get into a good university and start building their dreams around their beliefs and wit. Maybe this is the reason why I just can’t let this one effing go is because the least that the great man can do is to just not say anything because his solutions aren’t effective either. He built a school for the brilliant young kids that he believes in but it will take years before they can all master the formula of running a school. And besides, it’s too early to claim anything. It is unwise to count the eggs when a hen is still a chick. Heck you need to wait for a chick to grow up first and become a hen, then you’d have to wait for it to actually lay eggs before you start counting.
By the time that this great man was done bashing UP (and other universities that he referred to as the lower institutions of learning), I’ve zoned out already. The red brick in Unblock Me deserved my attention more than this man who’s so great that he thinks he’s bold enough to brand people whom he hasn’t met yet.
I went home thinking about all the things that this great man said. I have built a career from helping students from his school, helping students to understand a lesson more. I have twenty eight students from the great man’s school and all of them are brilliant. Most of our sessions are just about me explaining the things that their teachers skipped in school. I also handle kids who are a bit slower than others, but they’re brilliant nonetheless. Most of them (if not all) dream of going into a huge university one day. I know my students will make it big someday, whatever path they may choose. They will be big and they will dream more. Note that in my previous sentence, I used the future tense because it’s too early to claim. Hope is the right word–not claim.
My father once told us, “Hindi ka dapat nagmamataas kasi pag ganon, wala ka ng itataas pa. Hindi ka rin dapat nagmamalaki kasi baka hindi na lumago.” Papa would laugh if I’d call him a great man, but I think he speaks like one. And the great man whom I heard talk yesterday didn’t sound like him at all. I wonder why.
♥ Dyosaimma
Dear Vice President Jejomar Binay,
Nakasabay ko po ang sasakyan nyo at ang mga escorts nyo kaninang umaga along Philcoa. I should probably be honored to be in such place, kasi diba kung iisipin, ang cool nun o. My car is beside the car of the second most powerful man in the Philippines. Kaya lang, hassle po ang ginawa ng mga escorts nyo sa aming lahat. Do you know that abruptly stopping cars along a highway may have lead to accidents? May have lead, meaning pwedeng mangyari. Wala naman kasi akong data na hawak ngayon to support my claim. Pero pwede rin siguro akong mag-text brigade to consult other drivers about my theory. Sa experience nyo po ba eh magandang idea ang pagtetext brigade, sir?
Anyway, napansin ko nga rin po palang hindi nyo sinunod ang 60kph speed limit along Commonwealth Avenue. I can attest to this kasi 60kph ang takbo ng kotseng minamaneho ko nung nilampasan nyo kami ng escorts nyo. And just when I thought I was seeing the worst from the second most powerful man in the Philippines, I noticed that the MMDA traffic enforcers, who looked like they were having a good time playing with the speed gun, did not reprimand your Chevrolet Suburban nor the Toyota Fortuners and the Toyota Land Cruisers for over speeding. Vice President Binay, nakakahiya naman sa aming mga sumusunod sa speed limit at tina-try na maging maayos na mga drivers. Naiintindihan kong kayo ang Vice President of the Philippines at ang lakad nyo (malamang) ay official, pero hindi naman yata reason yun para maging adelantado kayo at ang mga escorts nyo sa daan. Paano yan, kaming mga bumabyahe rin para sa trabaho (at para magtrabaho), technically ay official din ang mga lakad namin. Does that mean we can also violate traffic rules?
Anyway, Mr. Vice President, konting sharing ko lang naman yan. Alam kong busy po kayong tao. Sana maisip nyo ring hindi lang kayo ang busy. Ganyan po ba ang nakasanayan nyo sa Makati? Sa experience ko kasi, grabe ang pag-i-implement ng traffic rules sa Makati eh. Nakakatakot mag-drive sa lugar nyo. Anyway, para hindi po kayo ma-late sa mga lakad nyo, try nyong bumyahe ng maaga at pwede bang wag kayong mangharang ng ibang sasakyan. Pwede namang po kasing hindi maka-abala ng ibang tao para makapagtrabaho, sana po try nyo rin.
Nice cars by the way. Highest level sa kintab at pagka-black. Parang balat nyo lang po, sir.
♥Dyosaimma
I woke up from a really bad dream last Monday. It was weird because it was one of those dreams that I’d only see in movies, yung as in magigising ka ng umiiyak at pawis. At takot, syempre.
I could recall the tiniest details of my dream and I really could not get over it hanggang lunch time. Alam kong dream lang yun pero I was scared to death. UGH. I hate being scared, because that’s one of the things that I can’t hide, no matter what I do. One of my friends told me before that my eyes always give me away when I’m sad or scared–and last Monday, I had those “I’m scared and I feel like shit” eyes.
My dream was about one of my friends. I was with him and we were sort of walking and talking. And then boom, something bad happens and he sort of suffers. A lot. UGH. Throughout the dream, while my friend was in pain, he was tightly holding my hand and he told me that no matter what happens, I should not let go of his hand. In my dream, my friend was still smiling (as he always is in real life) even if I knew that he was in deep shit. I woke up crying and feeling really tired. And sad. And scared!! HUHUHUHU. Shokot kung shokot. Hindi ako mapalagay the whole morning, actually. Pero nung nagstart na ang work, nawala na rin sa utak ko.
I Googled the meanings of the stuff that were in my dream and I know that I’m not supposed to believe everything at alam ko ring ako pa rin ang may control sa kung anong pwedeng mangyari, iba pa rin. I hate bad dreams. Huhu.
♥ Dyosaimma
My hooker heels are missing. And I just learned today that my sister’s sneakers are also missing. Theory ko, may nangunguha ng mga sapatos dito sa bahay. At bukod sa aming lima sa pamilya, isang tao lang ang nakakapasok dito. I don’t want to point fingers, but this is me being deductive. Ugggghhhhh.
I just want to tell that person who’s been taking our shoes that you could’ve earned more had you taken some of my bags. Yes, they have all those authenticity shit that you need to prove that a bag is really worth something. I just don’t have the boxes because I sold them already. Really. The shoes that you took are worth about P3000. Try the gold bag next time, so that you’d have enough money for the deposit for a brand new sedan.
♥ Dyosaimma
Every Thursday, the room where I hold tutorials is adjacent to the room where women aged 40 and up cry their hearts out. Literally. And yes, they do sing praises to the Lord. Ahhh-men.
I had to leave the room for a while at around 1:30PM, so I left these sheets of paper on the tables and chairs that I requested for. I came back at around 1:45PM. My tables and chairs are nowhere to be found. As I looked through the glass divider between my room and the crying ladies’ room, I saw my tables. And my chairs.
Funny no? Highest level ng bible study ang activity pero simpleng courtesy, ang hirap ma-achieve. Maybe my note was ignored because they could not see the Lord in the text. Natawa na lang ako instead na mapamura. I just went to the officer in charge and requested for new tables and chairs. Madali lang kasi mag-request, magsasabi ka lang. Siguro hindi na makapaglakad yung mga matatandang dalaga sa room na katabi ko dahil sa arthritis. Pwede ring rheumatism. At osteoporosis. At scoliosis. At meningitis. Lahat na ng sakit na may -is sa dulo, go!
At least they didn’t take the notes that I left with the table. Aabutan ko na sila ng limos, awa at utak kung ganon ang nangyari.
Sorry for the bitterness over the stolen tables and chairs, pero I left a note eh. I didn’t write it in Greek at simple lang ang mga salita. Really? Bastusan over tables and chairs, ganon? Nakakahiya lang kasi yung mga nanguha ng lamesa at upuan ko ay bible study ang activity. Diba parang may mali?
Pero pwede ring desperado na sila dahil kahit anong gawin nilang iyak every Thursday afternoon eh parang di pa rin sila nauubusan ng problema, so kailangan na talaga nilang mapansin ni Lord. So ayun, gumawa sila ng bad so that the Lord will notice them. Sana naman effective.
♥ Dyosaimma
♥ Dyosaimma
Dear Mr. Big,
Alam mo kung may gusto kang sabihin, go. Mas ok yun kesa nagpapacontext clues ka. Hindi naman ako grade three para bigyan ng mga ganyang klaseng exercises. You’re giving me more reasons to think that you’re not worth the all the trouble. Pero hindi mo naman ako sinabihang i-bother ko sarili ko. Sometimes I wish I could just let you go that easily. But I don’t know how. I’m sorry if I did something that made you upset. I hate it when I put myself in that position wherein I always let you take me to those unexpected emotional rollercoaster rides. I wish we’d talk more about the things that need to be settled.
See you next year. Or when you decide to stop being a dork na lang siguro.
Dyosaimma
I used to be lucky when it comes to applying for government issued ID’s. Well. I used to. Until today.
So ang plan ko ay mag-ayos ng passport, kaya maaga akong lumipad papuntang DFA. I was on time for my appointment (10:00AM) pero 11:00 na kami nakapasok. The first thing that the people in DFA will ask you to present the documents that you have bago ka nila papilahin. Tama naman yun diba, kasi bakit pa nila sasayangin ang oras mo kung hindi naman pala kumpleto ang dala mo.
And I was more than prepared today. As in lahat ng kailangan dala ko. Lahat ng pwedeng ID, lahat ng affidavits etc. Tsaka kinondition ko na sarili kong pipila ako ng bongga ngayon. Actually it was UP who trained me para sa lahat ng pila. Zen kung zen sa pila ang peg ko kanina syempre. So ayun. More than one hour din ang pila ha. Pero medyo happy na ko nung nasa last row na ko ng chairs! Wheeee. Finish line na eh. Tapos sa counter # 14 pa ako natapat! Favorite number ko ang 14, wala lang. Diba tunog swerte?
Chos lang pala ang swerte. This really old guy entertains me. I greet him good morning and I gave him a smile. I hand him my documents. HE FUCKING PUTS A CHECK MARK ON EVERY SINGLE PAGE THAT HE COULD. And I am not kidding. So lahat ng original copy ng documents na dala ko may malaking check mark nya. Akala ko nga pati yung receipt ng driver’s license ko che-chekan din nya eh. Feel na feel nya kasi. Then he asked for my NBI clearance. So sabi ko bakit kailangan pa yun eh I had more than two ID’s and other documents proving my identity. Etong si bitter old man, bigla ba naman akong sinabihang kailangan ko ng NBI clearance to prove na wala pa akong nagagawang illegal. Sabay halungkat sa driver’s license ko to check kung kelan ko sya kinuha kasi maraming babae raw ang kumukuha ng driver’s license kahit walang sasakyan at hindi marunong magmaneho dahil ang habol lang ang ID.
Muntik kong murahin yung matanda eh. Fuck you, Mr. Celedio. Bahala na kung sinong makabasa nito, pero I don’t think that employee from DFA treated me fairly. Inaway ko na sya kanina actually, kasi I don’t think fair talaga. Pero hindi ko masyadong sinagad kasi matanda na sya at naisip ko, kaya siguro ganon sya kabitter because he has to face all these people trying to get their passports, yung iba dun for tour purposes lang talaga. At sya mukhang walang pang-eroplano kahit papuntang Bicol lang. Sorry Mr. Celedio, you did not treat me right and you acted as if you owned the world. Dahil dyan, sige kukuha ako ng bagong NBI clearance at babalikan kita sa DFA. At ipapakain ko sayo lahat ng ID at documents na dala ko. At kung babatiin man kita ng “good morning”, I will make sure that my middle finger is high up while I’m greeting you.
At least kung mapatay man kita sa next nating pagkikita, may clearance na ko sa NBI! Mu. Ha. Ha.
Nakakainis. Yung kasunod ko sa pila (na napunta sa ibang window), birth certificate lang at company ID ang dala. Yun lang dala nya pero hindi sya nagkaproblema. Ako na kumpleto (sobra pa), hinanapan ng NBI clearance. Mukha ba akong mamamatay tao? (Well malinis ako magtrabaho.)
Tapos paglabas ko ng DFA, I hailed the first cab that I saw. At alam nyo bang may mga taxing nagkukunwari lang? They charge P10 pero 100 meters. So yung 3 km na byinahe ko ay P300. Is that even legal? May meter yung taxi pero covered yung screen with tape, so that the only thing that both the driver and passenger(s) could see would be the distance traveled. They didn’t issue a receipt either. I noted the name and plate number of the cab that I was in kanina. Kahit yung isa kong kilalang taxi operator nagtaka.
UGH. I don’t usually hate Tuesdays pero record holder ang Tuesday na ito para sa akin. At hindi naman masakit sa ulo ang DFA dati. Minalas talaga ako. Huhuhuhu. 2nd day pa lang ng hell week. Huhuhuhu. Namimiss ko na ang August.
♥ Dyosaimma
I’m blogging while working. Hahaha. This feels like cheating, actually. But I simply can’t resist sharing the latest from Thought Catalog. It’s too much.
Reasons Why I Cannot Love You by Kat George
Don’t get me wrong—I think you’re great. I like to eat dinner across from you, quickly glancing down at the fork idly fondling my food when you catch my eye. I like the coy smiles that pass between us, and the way that once we’re both drunk you become brave enough to hold my hand, and I become excited enough to hold it back. I like it when my phone vibrates in the night and it’s you saying something completely irrelevant, just so you could text me. I like that you like me; I like what we have.
But I can’t love you. I can’t love you because I couldn’t love the one before you, and I wont be able to love the one after you. It’s not because you’re not wonderful, or because you don’t deserve to be loved. It’s because you’ve melted into those other ones—you’re all the same. None of the dinners, the lazy days spent in bed cradling each other’s naked bodies, the little things you whisper to me, none of it is new. I’ve heard and done these things before, the motions are repetitive, and my responses are habitual. I can’t love you because we don’t have that special… thing… that makes every one of these practiced encounters seem brand new.
I can’t love you because I’m measuring you against a yard-stick from long ago, and you keep falling short. Every movement you make, every tiny word you utter, I pick up and hold towards the sun to see if you’ll turn transparent and I’ll see him inside your skin. When he’s not there—and he never is—I know I’ll never be able to love you. I haven’t and I can’t move on; it’s not your fault. I know I’m being entirely ridiculous, but when he haunts my sleep and I awaken in the morning only to see your resting eyes andyour mouth agape on the pillow next to me, I feel disappointed, and I hate that I feel that way. I can’t love you because I’m entangled in the past, and I’m still not ready for the future.
I can’t love you because you adore me too much. Every time I wish for you to stop flattering me, to stop agreeing with me on every little thing, to stop fucking doing every completely nonsensical thing I ask of you, it makes me feel sick, ungrateful and mean. You’re wonderful for thinking I’m wonderful, but I can’t love you because you don’t love me for my flaws—you love me in spite of them. You don’t see me, you don’t even want to see me, for what I am—the ugly, pungent parts of my guts. You can’t and don’t want to tear these parts out of me while I scream. I can’t love you because you won’t defy me, because you won’t fight me when I’m wrong. I can’t love you because you don’t stand eye to eye with me and challenge me, demand of me, to be a better person.
I can’t love you because it’s too hard and I’m too busy. I’m so busy all the time; I barely have time to see my friends, the people I know I’ll be 80 with, if we all (God/ universe/ Mother Nature willing) make it that far. I keep trying to convince myself that you’re just not right for me but half the problem is I simply don’t have the time for you, and I didn’t realize my mental process was making these ludicrous deductions until a friend casually pointed out that I was a New Yorker now, and that New York was what was ‘happening’ to me. And here I was thinking I was just holding out for Mr. Right. I can’t love you because logically or illogically, my brain doesn’t compute having you any higher on my list of priorities.
I can’t love you because I’m happy on my own. It’s been almost a year now, and I’ve healed from the destructive force of a previous relationship. I’ve learned how to enjoy my own company and laugh at my own jokes. I can’t love you because if I do you’ll be in my bed with me at night, or worse, I’ll be at yours without my things around me. I wont be able to sleep spread-eagled, to eat crispy fried bacon in my underpants, to make plans to go out whenever I want, or to make plans to stay in whenever I want. I can’t love you because, right now, I’m enjoying my ‘me’ time far too much—I’m like a pig in shit. I can’t love you because for the first time in my life, I’m being selfish.
I can’t love you because I’m scared. Because I’ve been broken hearted and I know the pain of losing something I love all too well. I don’t have another heartbreak in me, and sometimes when I look at you I imagine myself as a younger girl and I know I would have ridden into the sunset with you, had you asked, even if you were entirely wrong for me. I can’t love you because I’m so tired of love; its commitments and risks. I can’t love you because I don’t know if you’re worth the commitment or the risk and I’m not willing to find out the hard way, although I sincerely hope that one day I will be. I can’t love you because I don’t want to, and sometimes I’m afraid that makes me a bad person. 
The original post can be found here.
AAAAHHHH I hope one day I’d get to meet the amazing people behind the stuff that I find in Thought Catalog. I always have my journal with me, I don’t know how most of them seem to manage to peek through it.
♥ Dyosaimma
