Phantasmagoria

I’d like to tell you something: I have not cast a vote in all of the local and national elections that have gone by since I was eightteen. Uhm, talk about the right to suffrage. Suffer-age? You suffer as you age. But I am not suffering, although we have our own little troubles in life. And all of us confront them more often and more cosnciously as we age.

The thing about the national elections is i don’t respect it. I don’t trust it. I don’t find integrity in it. I find it a foolish process.

First of all, just take a look at our Senate. In it you find a comedian, an action star, a basketball player (in the past Senate), a former “state-witness”, a “lukaret” and a host of other personalities. And these same people are running for office in the next elections. After all that they have done in the past, they appear on TV in their little feel-good ads convincing the mass that they are the heroes of the people amid trying times. They even hold their photo-ops in the Church for Christ’s sake.

Clearly, they have not done our country good. Not a single good thing to mark their term as one which ushered in growth and progress to this country.

And you expect me to vote?

Di bale na lang.

1. Tapos na ako sa short story ko, pero hindi pa rin ako confident sa naisulat kong kwento. Good luck! kaya nga i’m desperate to have people around me who would give it a critical look and tell me as readers how they feel about it.

2. I feel like I am not doing good in school. I feel mediocre. And I hate mediorcity. So i have decided not to enrol this next sem, until I have my own laptop. I need to have a laptop so I could work on my school requirements even when I am at home, resting.

3. I shall be able to submit my requirements for my application at Starbucks this evening. Hopefully I get in. Please pray for me.

4. My friend Mackoy has been calling me these past few days. I’m glad to have reunited with him.

5. I have completely lost my gym life. And now that I am planning to work part-time, I am at a loss about how to work out again.

6. The short story has completely enthralled me. When I am done with my short story, I shall continue writing more. I can’t wait.

7. Of all the five people in our dormitory unit, ako yung pinakamakalat. LOL!

8. I have realized that I have never spent a considerable amount of time teaching myself how to tame my emotions, how to control them, how to manage them. One test na mature na ako is when I am able to smile even when I am angry. So far, I’m still very expressive with my emotions.

9. I’m teaching my mom to use the expression “freakin’”. So far, she’s doin’ great, being a fast learner. Kanina, she texted me; “We had freakin’ gulay for lunch.” Okay!

10. I have just borrowed a book from the library kanina. It’s entitled “Modern American Short Stories.” This morning, I also returned two books–Cebuano Fiction Writers and Modern Philippine Short Stories.

Today is my day off. I worked for six straight days, did you know that? Guess not, but it’s okay; you were probably busy yourself, too. Not only that, I was running out of cash. oh, yeah, that green paper bill that could buy you things–food, water, clothes, shelter, fame. But not love. And last week, I only had 600 bucks, just enough for 5 days. Ah, hello? How am I supposed to survive? Is this Survivor Call Center 2009 Philippine Edition? Surely, I’d win, for I made it to the sixth day–to my surprise.

it was such a humbling experience for me: I skipped buying my favorite C2 green tea drink, I cut down on meals, I boughtonly biscuits for snakc, and spent my lunch breaks sleeping in the quiet room. I did not take my laundry to the shop nor waived my urge to load up. Oftentimes, i would skip breakfast for I told myself I would come home stressted anyway, so better sleep it off and have lunch when I woke up.

it was amazing. now tomorrow is pay-freakin’-day!

yey! i’m gonna buy a new flash disk, because I lost my first one, a 4g usb and I couldn’t even remember how I lost it. Damn. Then, I’m gonna send money home, as usual, and buy three briefs. maybe watch movie and photocopy an entire book of modern Philippine short stories.

God, thank You so much!

Yesterday I went to DLSU to work on my short story. I am so freakin’ glad that it’s almost done. Medyo hindi nga lang ako confident na maganda siya, for I know it was a bloody struggle to get things done–but I am happy kasi malapit na siya matapos at makakahinga na ako ng malalim. Hehehe.

I went to the library to edit the corrections I have made last week. I was so excited kasi it’s already taking form and depth. Hindi pa rin ako confident sa kind of life that I was trying to represent in that story. But again it’s ok.

Umulan kahapon. Sobrang lakas. Hindi naman tuloy-tuloy, pero while it was raining, malakas talaga siya. At three o’clock Ched issued a memo. It was closing time. Dyahe. I planned to stay sa lib until 6 o’clock p.m. pa naman.

When I went out of the lib I headed for the restroom and washed my apple there. I then went out and sat on a marble table along the hallway. Students were flooding , like a herd of young people. Munching my apple, I really enjoyed watching them. They looked so young and fresh and full of life and anticipation. I remembered tuloy myself when I was still in college.

But I am no longer a student. I am working, trying to beat my prime, trying to make a name ofr myself before “time’s winged chariot” overruns me. It’s really kinda scary for me. I am going through a great deal of pressure right now. I need to finish my studies in 2 years and right now, I can’t even imagine how to juggle everything ahead of me. 

Should I continue working with my current employer? I should, right? Okay. I should also find a part-time job, right? It’s just a matter of time. I can’t wait to go back to the gym again, for I have not been working out for over a month now, given how busy I have been. I want to be active again, but I am slowly getting this realization that I am swamped with so many things that I need to sacrifice some of the things that I consider important.

My priority right now is my studies. It is giving so much enjoyment. And I really intend to keep it. After I am done with my Master’s, I even plan to delve into pursuing my Doctorate degree right away. But the danger there is the idea na I make a lot of plans, tapos hindi ko na naman matutupad: like I planned to buy a laptop last March pero hindi natupad (I needed to use the money somewhere else), and then I also wanted to work part-time pero hanggang ngayon hindi pa ako nag-aaply, and then I also planned to buy a mountain-bike, which you already guessed, did not materialize.

Ok lang yun, I guess. Meron naman dahilan kung bakit hindi natutupad ang mga ‘yon. But this time, I really hope that I can make it inmy studies. Lord, please help me talaga.    

Now, ito yung na-realize ko lately. I read my papers again and they lacked intellectual depth. Parang ang babaw. Sobra. Meaning, I feel like hindi naman ako katalinuhan. Not that I think I am, but I just noticed na I need to do more pa. I need to read more. I have to quit yung style na mabulakalak, boasting of quantity pero wanting in quality. I really need to change, to upgrade, to take things seriously. Hindi pa ako scholarly enough, like I know so little. Ang konti ng alam ko. Ito na ba ang epekto na DLSU sa akin? I think dahil na rin yung environment kasi is very encouraging.

For instance, I borrowed two books today–Modern Philippine Short Stories and The Writers of Cebu: An Anthology of Prize-Winning Entries, kasi nga I need to read more. I am at a loss in the writing of my short story, so I went to the lib for assistance. Hindi mahirap maghanap ng impormasyon na kailangan mo sa iyong pag-aaral. The school makes it easier for everbody to gain access to information needed for one to become sharper, better. Kung gusto mo mag-net, sige log in ka lang diyan. Tapos, you’d find benches everywhere. There are study lounges everywhere. I see students reading books and finching with their laptops everywhere I look. Parang the University is telling you na “Okay, hijo ha, we provided you everything you need. It’s your turn to do your part.”

Ang sarap maging estudyante. Nakaka-inspire.

This time, I have learned my lesson.

People are precious and have stories to tell. You just have to listen closer and be genuinely interested in them. Sometimes you may be feeling tired because you just got home from work, so you don’t feel like asking your roommate “How’s your day?” or “Do you have work this afternoon?”, but you have to reach out, not because they are your roommates, but because you affirm that sort of kind of like human bond.

I really shouldn’t stop talking, for I love to talk to people. i have this tendency to clam up, to leave my thoughts to myself. Sometimes, because i no longer believe in genuine human interaction, I would just stop myself from reaching out to other people.

But I have somehow absorbed this apathetic attitude of some people in the production floor–that attitude which makes you feel that you have to get out of people’s way or else they’ll step on you and don’t even bother to look behind to see whether you’re hurt or something. That kind of attitude. And there are may people like that in the office. Some people, instead of genuinely reaching out to others, try to elevate themselves before other people’s eyes. They act like they are better than others. They are proud in words and in their actions. they show other people they are vicious and apathetic.  

As a result, some people clam up. Other isolate themselves, as what I have been doing. Some people don’t care anymore, while others play the game of pretense. They pretend they don’t care, or they have just stopped caring altogether. They see things inward, as opposed to share their lives. I am beginning to sense the coldness of human relationships in some aspects of my life. And since i spent a great deal of my waking hours in the office, I feel this coldness more at work, which is sickening, really.

But back in my room, I live with three other guys and I am amazed at how humble they are, how simple they see life and how grounded they speak of themselves.

The day I moved in on the 24th of July, I met Mike. He works as a freelance trainer and is also studying part-time, I guess. He is bald and always tucks his laptop on his side. He stays on the lower bed opposite mine. That afternoon we chatted and I felt welcomed. We talked about each others’ jobs and I leanred he just moved in a week ahead of me. I asked where he takes his laundry to and he told me it’s Michelseth and I asked him how to find it and he told me it’s just a couple of meters away, when you walk straight ahead going to the wet market.

My other roomate is Alvin. He works at Starbucks and we get to talk most of the time, since he leaves for work around 2 or 3 o’clock in the afternoon. By the time I get home I would have had lunch. On my first day we introduced each other. He’s from Las Pinas and is the fourth sibling of five children. His other siblings have already married and so he was left wroking to provide for his parents’ needs. He jogs almost everyday and loves Coke. one afternoon he came home with bread and Coke and offered me some. It was cinnamon bread, my favorite. I told him I just ate but he insisted so I took a bite and left some later for snack.

I told him “You know, I hate Coke. I haven’t been drinking Coke since four years ago.” I explained to him the unhealthy effects of softdrinks to the body but I guess I can’t do anything about it. Also, Alvin loves to collect Sto. Nino statues, which I find weird, especially because he has a couple of them, of different sizes and he places candies and chocloates on a plate resting on their feet. Sometimes, I would get some on my way to work but he said it’s okay.

My last roommate is Aldrien. He works somewhere, in a construction firm Mike told me, and that’s all I know about him. Everytime i get home i would ask Mike “O, where’s Aldrien?” and Mike would tell me “Ah, he must be on overtime again.” Yesterday was my day off so I found him sleeping. But when I entered the room from the internet cafe, he greeted me. I told him we haven’t seen each other in a week and he smiled. I rarely see him, so we haven’t really talked about anything personal.

I felt so at home with these people. Last night I worked on my short story, deleting odd lines on a white loose paper, making corrections on a seperate yellow paper, under a faint fluorescent lamp, while Aldrien was sleeping and Mike was watching something on his laptop. I asked Aldrien “Is it ok if we leave the lights on? Would you like me to turn off the light directly on top of your bed?” but he said it’s ok. “The truth is, that’s just dark enough.” Ah, okay. So I went on with my work. I normally get conscious and uneasy when people are around. But this time I did not mind that they were there. It was already 11 o’clock and I stopped working on my draft and headed for the bathroom to brush.

I changed shorts and climbed up my bunker bed and grabbed a thick Literature book Jam lent me last month and began reading poems…Aldrien was drifitng in dreamland but Mike gave no hints that it was bedtime. I was ready to sleep and in no time found myself awake at four o’clock in the morning. It was cold and it was raining outside. Everyone was sleeping. Alvin had come home. I went back to sleep.

It was another day.

So I have finally written my sonnets, right? Four of which I submitted as requirements, or “entries”, to my folio in our Poetry class. It was a moment to capture, for it meant for me an achievement, having written poems inspired by Shakespeare, Matthew Arnold, John Keats, Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost, and of course our very own Dr. Jose Rizal. I have written several so-called poems before, but now that I have taken formal poetry-writing lessons, I felt like I have finally begun my career as an apprentice poet.

But just last Saturday, my poetry prfessor commented that some ideas presented in my poetry–perhaps the language too, or technique–sounded cliche. I wrote about unrequited love, about emptiness due to the absence of someone you love, and the pointlessness of worldly labor. My poems really were imitations–of my idols. Hehehe.

I felt morose after reading her comments. But quickly, I got her point. I guess deep within my subconscious I knew that I was writing something in the tradition of Shakespeare, with all those rhyme schemes and all. She hinted that I need to go out of that sphere, because I won’t survive the greatness of the poets residing inside it, like my voice wouldn’t be heard. And I agreed. Definitely, she was right. And it yanked me back to reality.

I am indeed a struggling poet, in search of my voice, of my own technique and identity. It was painful to say goodbye to poems that imitate Shakespeare and the legends. I really love the traditional sonnet. but I live in the 21st Century now, amid the overwhelming speed of change. For me, that was the only technique I know, but neverhteless, I had to let go of it.

I am having trouble looking within myself and searching for the “me”, because the only voice I knew were “That time of year thou mays’t in me behold” or “I am the one acquianted with the night” and “The moon is calm to-night, sweet is the night air”. I am at a loss, relying on my inadequate supply of artistic or poetic expertise.

But it’s really okay. I mean, nothing really serious. I can get through this. Someday, I shall write great poems, maybe even just a couple, but true to who I really am.

Tonight, I shall go back to my entries and revise them. I already have an idea: I shall fuse the traditional format in rendering the daily experiences of modern man–his email exchanges, his text messages, his daily commute, his battles against technology, etc.

Hope I succeed. But if I don’t, there’s no harm in freakin’ trying again. Right?

I so love this poem. This is my third sonnet. I so believe in the poem’s premise: that we work so hard to feed ourselves and the one’s we love, but in the process we spend more time at work than with our loved ones: it’s a difficult situation. Hope you like it.

Day Off
by Jeffrey Maningo

How fruitless I have toiled these sullen hours.
The only art I know is servitude–
To Labor, and in exchange of my time
Procure what we possess: this morning bread,
Your second skin, this leather-covered seat,
This tin roof beneath the battering rain:
I should demand to make this moment last
And shut behind the bedroom door all our cares,
And all the mute and deaf and blind witnesses
Of this naked moment I share with you,
Before this random peter-patter ends
And the avenging sun takes it away–
Away from the poetry of your love,
Back to the bosom of my poverty.

I’ve never felt so alive, so in control. Yesterday afternoon, before my last trip back to my previous place to get my things, as I have just transferred to a new place, I dropped by the office where I could use the computer for endless hours. I worked on my short story manuscript. I am taking up Fiction Writing and Poetry Writing Techniques this semester and both classes are very demanding and astonishingly, I am right on track. I have never been late nor failed to submit a requirement. I am confident that I have submitted good outputs in the last two months since the term started. I have completed my folio of 5 poems for our Poetry class and i have just three more papers to go before the deadline snaps.

But writing my official short story for Fiction was a tedious struggle. For one, I was not confident about what I was doing. I did not even believe in the story I was writing about. I would write a paragraph or two and then put the finished draft aside, only feeling more frustrated. I would attack the empty page over and over but would get nowhere. Our professor required us to come up with a short story over five thousand words long, or else…you know what happens.

I have never completed a story in my life. Poems, maybe, yeah, but stories, no. But now, I am loving them!

Yesterday, I just did not know what possessed me but I read my draft again and began creating this world inspired by true events in my hometown Iligan City. I suddenly became aware of the life in the story that presented itself as inevitably significant to capture. I gave my protagonist–a young man working for the scholarship office at the city mayor’s office–life, and he assumed his own existence. I could envision him reacting to things, I could hear his thoughts, I could feel his emotions. Oh my God. I need to write those things down. The experience of chasing those tidbits of reality was exhilarating.

My protagonist is in love with a woman who grew up virtually away from the city. She is beautiful and her mom was killed when they went down the city when she was young, so my other protagonist never got to know her mom. She lives with her grandpa in the woods. And her grandpa is against her relationship with the low-lander. the low-lander pursues her but he got existential issues of his own. He is heart-broken, too. About six months ago his girlfriend ran away with a military officer. So he begins to question the essence of this love he finds in this girl from the remote paradise.  i gave the woman an air of mystical beauty. And the story is set in a time when Iligan City is beset with terror attacks and economic crises. Good luck!

I am so excited to write the story. I sense the picture getting clearer and clearer as I fill the pages up with words. Instead of me acting on the story, the story and the characters in it possessed me. I keep on asking myself, “What is he gonna do now?” or “Will she come down to the city and look for him?” or “Will the man take the girl away from her grandpa?” and “What is the old man gonna do? He used to be a war veteran…Is he gonna use violence? Is somebody gonna die?” I’m scared. And I can’t help but document the life they are living within the world that I have created. And this is actually what I dreamed of–to get a formal education on writing literature.And finish a short story with my name below the title!

Now that I was ushered into this world where I could created virtually anything my imagination could come up with, I thought about so many things that I want to write about, and could write about. I thought about my childhood, the most eventful and most memorable and most fun chapter of my life. I looked back at my life with my parents and my siblings. I thought about my life as a student and my life when I began teaching. I thought about the places I have visited when I was still working with the Philippine Daily Inquirer as a correspondent. And of course, I can write about my love life, no matter how bloody that part was.

Back in my Fiction Writing class, we discuss fiction writing theories and essays about writing fictions, mostly coming from authors themselves who have been forerunners in the genre. Our discussion of Edgar Allan Poe opened my mind about using less descriptions in short stories and employing the so-called “objective correlative” by T.S. Elliot. i fell in love with Anton Chekhov but Raymond Carver impressed me more with “What We talk About When We Talk About Love” and “A Small Good Thing”. However, Doris Lessing impressed me more with “Debbie and Julie” and I wish I could render a character’s internal psychic state that well in “Debbie and Julie”. You ought to read that one.

I think that I have a lot more to learn. In the coming days, I am going to borrow that book I saw at the libraryentitled “Imaginative writing” and then I’d begin writing stories about my experiences. I just can’t wait to get my hands on those aspects of my life. Oh my god! This is so cool. Thank you so much, Lord, for the gift of education.

I am really a quitter. And quitters never win. Winners never quit. I’m sure you’ve heard someone say that. But have you heard of someone say “I am a quitter?” Well, if not yet, I’d be happy to be the first, that way I can have all the bragging rights.

Anyway, I have quit on so many things in my life. I quit my job, I quit on my girlfriends, I quit on my friends, I quit on dancing, I quit on loving again. I have walked away form a lot of things that could have made my life exciting and full of fun, but I decided to play it safe.

Turning my back seemed to have become my habit, something that I ofund hard to break.

And now, it has come to a point where I can no longer control my thoughts. They have assumed a life of their own, I think, when today, I am confronted with yet again another situation.

I need to say sorry to a friend. I need to drag my feet next to her and face her and look her in the eye and say “I am very sorry for what I have done.” But fear and embarassment overcome me, and now, it’s been a week and I still haven’t talked to her.

This sceene looks familiar: I am again going to lose a friend, and I can’t even seem to dosomething about it. I just isolate myself and let my cowardice control me.

Sigh.

Sigh.

After six months of waiting, I have finally compelted my enrollment at De La Salle University. I am taking up Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing. I alsmost thought I would never make it: because I nearly failed to furnish the graduate admissions office with the documents that they needed, and after I have done so, I wondered where the heck I am going to look for the money needed to pay my tuition.

But God does provide, and here I am, typing this entry at the “cyber nook” of DLSU. I am officially a student again. Three hours ago, I bought myself a new notebook and a new pen and a pad of writing paper. I thought to myself I am going to be writing a lot of stuff in the coming months.  My subjects for this semester are Prose Writing and Poetry Writing. Good luck. i still don’ t know what to expect, but I am sure it’ll be good. I am never scared. Instead, O look forward to meeting my classmates and my teachers. I just can’t wait.

Anyway, this afternoon when I was on my way to the library, I walked across this hall where student clubs and organizations are campaigning for recruits. And guess what? the theater guild magnetized me and somehow I couldn’t explain how I got there–standing right in front of their booth and asking the facilitators “how can I join?”

They were very young. I mean, youthful. I smell in the air the aura of constant youthful pride, that feeling you get when you meet youong people trying to make their way though this complex life, trying to prove something, trying to understand themselves and those around them. That kind of vibe enveloped me: I was standing in front of young people who are part of the Harlequin Theatre Guild.

The next time I knew I was filling out this form and sitting on  bench across Wawang, a senior Literature student. “So what made you decide to join?” and “Have you been part of an acting group before?” were his questions.

I used to act before when I was in high school. And I found it fun. I told Wawang it’s been years since I last acted on stage. I remember when I was already teaching back in IIT how jealous I felt sitting in as part of the audience. I thought ot myself, “I should be the one up there…”

Si, I applied. They were so nice and friendly and a girl even calle dme “Kuya”. Tsk, dangerous word. But nawyay, after the interview with Wawang, they gave me a so-called “task”. I noticed they made the previous applicants dance in front of the hall, in the full view of everyone. There must have been around 300 studnets there, some walking across the hall and others watching the boys play basketball and others till talking, minding their own business. The applicant before me must have been a freshman because his face was really red after they made him dance to the tune of Lady Gaga’s “Poker face”. The whole time I was looking at him I was trying to control myself as I really, really dread doing something in public. But this time, “It’s gonna be different,” I told myself.

The other facilitator approached me and explained to me what I should do: “Do you sing?” he asked. Hell no! But I replied, “In private, yeah.” the moment he asked I wanted to become invisible and run like The Flash.

But he walked with me towards the table where they had all the speakers and handed me the mic. “Just say ‘Join harlequin theater Guild’ and dance after.” That time my heart was pounding so furiously as if somebody detonated an atomic bomb in my chest. In spite of the terror, I did it anyway.

As soon as “Just dance” began playing u swayed my body and threw my hands in all directions and lured two girls walking towards me as battled against humiliation…i heard people clapping and shrieking, “Yeah!” while I told myself “What the heck am I doing here?” A minute later, one girl said “Okay, tama na po kuya…” Thank God!

Everything just made sense. Looking back at all that I have gone through–from the time i left Iligan to the time I applied and eventually worked as a call center agent until this very day–i am bound to do what I feel would validate my person.

I am here now, tochange my life. To take control of my life. I am here to study and feed myself with ideas and at the same time work to support my studies. I hope that I can make it to the group, but whatever happens, I know everyhting will be okay. i just can feel it.

Sigh.