sabi ko sandali lang ako. pero di ko namalayang 11pm na. so ngayon, uuwi akong may apat na okey na classcards at hindi ko alam ang gagawin ko sa natitira ko pang mga papers. putcha. yun muna.

di ko alam ang gagawin ko bukas. sana may pang-enroll ako. happy birthday sa ate ko. ubos na ata ang pera ko. si ablir nag-boracay, sina chrome at mykel nasa baguio, ang ate ko magpu-puerto galera. at ako'y wala pa ring pag-i-internship-an. bahala na muna.

katatpos lang kumanta ni pader jeff buckley ng last goodbye at nilalambing naman ngayon ni pareng todd tundgren ang gabi with his original can we still be friends. binigyan pala ako ni karl ng ost ng vanilla sky. for that, in-allow ko siyang i-burn yung almost famous ost ko. hail nancy wilson and cameron crowe.

yun lang muna. wa akong sense ngayong gabi.

wala pa ring naayos. marami pa ring hindi tapos. parang maraming nagbago pero nanatiling walang pagbabago. isang taon na pala na lumilipas. marami na rin talagang nagbago.

panibagong responsibilidad, laban. hindi pa yata ako handa. pero ang karanasan naman pala ang maghahanda sa akin.

sa mga kaibigan na dumating at nagpaaalam: kina jill, menika, michelle, paolo, art, len. pag grumadweyt na ako kain tayo sa labas, libre ko. kahit sa likod lang.

kay jp: di pa natutuloy ang labas natin. kahit di na tayo madalas magkikita, at ma-e-evict na akyo sa second floor, alam kong pareho ang ating kinakapitan. padayon.
sa aking mga bourgeois friends: hender, ablir, bea, fadul, ria, jenny. gud lak sa mga trabaho.

pasensya na hindi ko alam kung paano sumulat sa isang blog.

wala namang pormula, kaya banat lang. at least dito, hindi ako maakusahang bias, well biased namn ang tao, at neutrality does not exist. sa isang naaagnas na lipunan, kailangan ang pumanig. inosente lang ang nagatataka.

huling linggo ng enero

Pinipigil ko na namang tumulo ang sipon ko.

Sa mga umagang tulad nito, salat sa ligo, salat sa kumot, naninilaw nang maong, nagrerebolusyong tiyan, hinihila ng grabedad ang lahat ng likido mula sa king mukha. hinahayan ko na namang slantahin ng alaala ang aking nakukulta nang utak. Ngunit sa kabilang panig ng mundong aking ginagalawan, hindi lang alaala ang nanalanta, at hindi lang luha ang pumapatak.

Message: OF HOBBITS AND ORCS IN MINDORO

(from the Southern Tagalog (ST) Exposure group, a
progressive multi-media advocacy outfit (yeah,
they work in film, print, and many more) based in
the ST region. - lisa)

(This is for the young man who invited me to the
movie Lord of the Rings and remarked “WHERE THE
HELL IS MINDORO?” when I invited him to a fact
finding mission in Mindoro Occidental
afterwards.)

Ask me where Mindoro is and I’ll easily point to
either the island in the map of the Philippines
or the huge territory that Mindoro now occupies
in my heart.

I am not a Mindoreńo. I was neither born nor
raised in Mindoro. But my involvement in the
human rights struggle has made me a self
proclaimed Mindoreńo.

I have regarded Mindoro Occidental to be
virtually an eden, a paradise of lush forests,
breathtaking beaches and golden rice fields whose
people have been miraculously spared from the
bloody fate of its heavily militarized eastern
half, Mindoro Oriental. For the last two years I
have witnessed how Mindoro Oriental suffered from
being bombarded by over eight AFP Batallions. The
island province quickly gained notoriety after
accumulating a long list of cases of unresolved
human rights violations that victimized mostly
civilians and local progressive leaders many of
whom I have known personally, deeply.

Today, nine months after the unprecedented
Naujan, Mindoro Oriental abduction and gruesome
twin murders of human rights workers Eden
Marcellana and Eddie Gumanoy, Ate Eden and Tatay
Eddie to many of us, by alleged military
soldiers, the rapid militarization is taking
place in Mindoro Occidental as well. A situation
that is quickly threatening the province to
become a paradise no more.

The scenario is not unlike the scene from your
Tolkien movie wherein a horde of evil orcs
mindlessly follow the shifting gaze of the Dark
lord Sauron. Imagine over two thousand military
soldiers crossing over to Mindoro Occidental from
Mindoro Oriental bringing with them their
howitzers, tanks, helicopters, navy ships. With
their big guns now trained at Mindoro Occidental
they have managed to blur the boundary between
the eden that was lost and the eden that was
spared.

Only this is not a movie playing in theaters near
you. It is the terribly real experience of the
nameless and faceless peasants residing in the
countrysides like the Mindoro Island. The
military claims to abide by the rules of
engagement as embodied in breakthrough documents
such as the Comprehensive Agreement on Respect
for Human Rights and International Humanitarian
Law forged between the government and the
National Democratic Front but in the actual
conduct of their operations they do not create
distinctions between combatants and civilians,
new people’s army members and legitimate human
rights workers. The stories of such victims
abound even in the articles in the inside pages
of this daily newspaper. Articles that you might
have inadvertently skipped when you proceeded to
oogle at the generous layout of full color photos
of flawless young things afforded to Tim Yap’s
Super! column and inspect the most recent outre
costume that the sea princess Tessa Prieto wore
to one of those spectacular Forbes parties.

However, to the ordinary Mindoreńos, life is not
a party but an unending cycle of struggle,
struggle and struggle. Mindoreńos wanted the
government to put an end to militarization in
Mindoro Oriental, they respond by militarizing
Mindoro Occidental as well; Mindoreńos demanded
the punishment of the suspected perpetrator Col.
Jovito Palparan jr, he is instead rewarded by
being promoted to deputy commander of the 2nd
Infantry division, the mother unit of his former
brigade then sent to head the Philippine mission
to Iraq.

It is the same story over and over again.
Peasants demanding for justice and bread are
answered with bombs and bullets instead.

My mother has tired of telling me to stop going
to Mindoro and has resigned to filling my back
pack with snacks for the long trip. My father
has accepted the fact and has opted to ensure
that I get to kiss the image of his beloved
Virgin Mary just before I leave. Every single
time that I leave my home for Mindoro and close
the door behind me is a difficult and teary
moment.

But then I remember Eden, how nine months ago she
clasped my hand tightly when armed men hiding
behind dark masks forcibly stopped the van that
our fact finding mission team was on and demanded
that Eden and Tatay Eddie get down. I remember
how the men blindfolded me and bound my hands. I
remember the feel of the cold nozzle of a .45
calibre gun at the back of my neck. I remember
how they told me that they decided to spare my
life and said that I should never go back to
Mindoro lest I wish to be killed. The following
day the lifeless bodies of Ate Eden and tatay
Eddie were found dumped in a shallow ditch.
Eden’s lovely face was mutilated, unrecognizable.

The Eden that was slain in Mindoro Oriental can
never be resurrected. But I vow to risk my life
to help protect the threatened Eden that still
exists in Mindoro Occidental. My reasons are
simple. Mindoreńos do not deserve the harsh hell
that these vicious orcs in boots have subjected
them to. Life for Mindoreńos should be ultimately
kinder, gentler.

So, to the young man who asked me where the hell
Mindoro is, I’ll be glad to do a humble Frodo and
show you the way there and back again.