Life Behind the Door

Today, I have discovered a serious error in this Blog. Please spare the Dickinson poem in this blog and our analysis from reading. There are some major revisions I have to make. The analysis have used rather the wrong copy of the poem. I am currently studying the mistake and how to fix this. I need to consult as well my co-author and my professor at Xavier University-English Department.

Please bear with me. I extend my apologies to the readers who may have read the analysis and poem and have believed and relied on the integrity of the post.

I apologize once more.

From the Bloggerista

Riddles
Riddles have a long history and exist in most cultures. A riddle attempts to use language in such a way as to present common things as unfamiliar and then asks its readers/listeners to guess what it is. Central to the tradition is their use of language: good riddles rely upon creative use of metaphor, simile, and metonymy; concrete imagery; and imaginative presentation and description of an object or concept. Because they are games, riddles are an excellent vehicle for introducing students to poetry and poetry writing.

Because riddle poems are games as well as poems, they provide an easy and fun way to introduce students to poetry and poetic technique. Moreover, as riddle poems are usually about mundane, concrete objects, they provide an opportunity to write in a poetic genre that avoids getting bogged down in the normal student poetry-writing angst: the belief that poems must be about grand ideas, use grandiose phrases, and make use of end-rhyme.

Steinbergh, Judith W. 1999. "Mastering Metaphor through Poetry." Language Arts 76.4 (March): 324–331.

Provenance of the Text: What Am I? Teaching Poetry through Riddles, http://www.readwritethink.org/lessons/lesson_view.asp?id=169

My neighbor, Ronald (or RJ, the initials of his full given names) has already moved out from Dolores Apartment. After roughly five years, Ronald has moved back to Butuan City, his home town. Ronald is a fresh graduate. He graduated from Xavier University. Recently, he has taken oath as a new Reg Nurse.

But, Ronald is more than that to me.

He is my funny, good looking, sexy and smart-ass friend. He is a good neighbor too, who has given me many laughs. He is such a funny guy. He is kind of my crush as well. This crush-feeling though came just recently. I think I find him interesting and hot when he graduated and became friendlier to me. Before, when we were still in first and second year, he is the snobbish kind. We do not usually talk except lately, I mean when we were juniors and in senior years and after he graduated.

And his moving back to his hometown is giving me gloomy feelings. Maybe, because my heart misses good people like him. But I think this is normal. All leaving and departures are accompanied by sadness, by tears (both visible and the unseen ones).

I am happy though that he has graduated and moving on to the next level. I am assured that he is happier now that he will be back in Butuan, reunited with his loving Dad and Mom, Tita Linda and loving relatives.

Though, I can see that he is kind of sad leaving Cagayan de Oro because his girl is from there. I know he will miss her loads. I am asking myself. Would he miss me too? Would he miss his friends? I bet he would.  But I am unsure if he would miss me. He even does not know that I like him the way I like him. This is a secret. Although, funny thing is I have given him this site address. But heck I care if he would discover.

Truly, I am still recovering from the bouts of parting and goodbyes. So many people and friends left me to go home. This is something usual to people living in apartments/renting, because people come and go. Such is an sad experience. But I know that his leaving is not our last seeing. We will see each other sometime in the future. I am sure of that.  I am even planning to visit their place.

By the way, I should clarify that my liking towards Ronald is not the sexual type. I think, it is more of a brotherly-peer liking. After all, he is such a funny guy. He teases me a lot. And I would end up frowning yet inwardly smiling every time he clowns around. They term this moment in vernacular as “kilig.”

When he was packing his things up and loading them to his sexy Pick up, I said to him, “Alright, good luck! Extend my regards to your Mom and you take care.” I did not say “Good bye!”

I miss him. I miss his antics and wide smiles. And not to forget, I miss as well our intelligent chats with Hans, my other cute guy neighbor-friend.  

See you around dude!

This page is under construction. Please keep posted. Don’t loose hope. Alright? It will soon be filled. : )

Photo is from JD Ferguson

Last night, I dreamt of Miami. But I wonder why I dreamt about it? Is it a foreshadowing of things to come? OMGoooshhh! Am I going to Miami any soon? Could that dream mean I am going to Miami? I hope-wish…  

Hot guys. Hot spots. Hot weather. Hot. Hot. Hot. Everything Hot is heaven. Right? Enjoy summer 2008 guys!

THE HEAVY DEBTS I have to settle for the past six months make me a broke. I do not go to spa anymore. It’s been a while that I have not visited a spa house for a foot pampering. I haven’t gone to Sentara for six months now to have my favorite Royal Massage. It’s been long that I have not cooked and eaten spaghetti or any pasta for that matter.  And I have been dreaming for so long to sip that Kiwi Fruit Shake since the summer started. Worst is, my nails have not been pedicured by Manang Ailyn, our home service manicurist, for three weeks now! And my nails look awful and the in-grown makes my toes hurt! Yes, I am not financially free. But that is not all this is about. This entry is more than my qualms about what life has given me for the past months. I will tell you in the next parts.

This situation teaches me a lot of lessons.  

First, it teaches me to be resourceful. Literally, I am speaking about broke as in broke like having only less than a hundred to survive a week. Imagine that! Living in cities like Cagayan de Oro, 100 pesos will not even be enough to feed a hobo for a week, all the more me.

So, I have to lend some money from friends (yes, plural). I have no choice. I feel I have none at first but I realized something later. Though, I am always thankful to Him-up-there for their presence. They must be God-sent, or, I mean, their compassion must be.

Going back to ingenuity, this cash-scarce situation I am in forces me to devise ways to earn that little cash I need to survive the day till the (much-awaited) pay day comes. One morning, I wake up gloomy with the fact that I have nothing to eat for the day. I even wish that instance that the fairy god fag grandma comes to fill my ref with food and lots of foods.  Yes, and in a moment I recall the yarn of the Little Match Girl I read way back from grade school.  That poor girl dreams of food while treading the snow-clad streets to sell some matches so that she and her sick granny will have something to eat for the Christmas Eve.

I am inspired by the Little Match Girl’s determination. I pull my ass out from the bed and go to the kitchen. Then, I see the empty big water containers from a Water Refilling Station. I say to myself, these have been here since I moved in two years ago and they are idle and useless. A former occupant of my unit must have left it. I have to trace the address of the station. Returning the containers means claiming the 100 pesos deposit. Wow! I say this is unmistakably God’s grace. The hundred pesos help me survive that day.

Such amount of money forces one to veer away from posh restos. So, I have to scout for some affordable but not cheap food stores (carenderia). I find one near the shawarma stall in Divisoria. I am able to order a Binagoongang Baboy (Pork in Shrimp Paste) and two cups of rice for only less than P 30. Such is a fulfilling meal already for a broke gay like me.

But, the 100 is not all to be spent for food. I need coffee to start my day. I need to shampoo my hair and some other daily essentials that I have to buy. The 100 is gone in a flash. I go to bed worrying again for the next day. (By the way, please do not wonder why I sound like I do not go to work on these days because I really did not. I am on a five-day leave for my medical check-ups.) This among many worries triggers the insomniac in me.

On another morning, (my new morning is 3 pm, and I find this good way to skip the meals and the fret), I wake up realizing that I only have some few bread in the ref. I eat them all and drink some cold water. I am ready for the day. I go to my derma for a check up (I will tell you later in another entry about this hair and scalp check-up). But the same sad cycle of lending money have occurred later that day.

Another morning, I am inspired. The grit of that Little Match Girl visits me again. I see the buyer of empty bottles and other seemingly useless stuffs pass by our place. I call him over to sell the bottles I find at the rear of our apartment. They lay idle and useless there near my laundry and halayanan (place where you hang to dry the washed clothes). I earn 39 pesos for the trash I have sold. The aphorism is true: there is money in the garbage. I tell the scrap buyer to make it 40 pesos instead; he wills my request without batting an eyelash. And I say this is another work of the Merciful and certainly not the fag fairy!

In kidding mode, I say to the man: how about body and soul? Do you buy them as well? We burst into laughter and he say: they cannot be kilo-ed. Well, that’s really something philosophical and sensible. But truly, had he been able to afford me, I would have sold them (laughing out loud). But I think about it, only if my body (oh, well, I am sexy and desirable I believe) can be sold, I would, just to survive. No, I am just kidding!

So, you see. Poverty, in general or simply the paucity of money is such a strong element. It makes, or rather forces a person to think, move, and scheme ways.  The most important thing though, I think, is that one should be able to survive the situation without doing anything ill to others.  

Second, it teaches me to appreciate and be thankful for the little things I have. When money is many, the minute things are to me invisible. I am thankless by the presence of soy sauce and oil. But these save me from starving. The soy sauce and edible oil when mixed can become very tasty as a viand. I see many other little, petty and seemingly insignificant things and appreciate more their presence in my life during these trying times. The value of money becomes very clear to me as well.    

Thirdly, this situation teaches me to shun away from the unnecessary act of money owing. Lending money makes one become more financially flop. I have proven it myself. Sometimes also, debt when not paid on time can sever friendships (except of course institutional ones like Banks and Loan facilities as they are impersonal). Money borrowing and delay of paying it can really break relationships. Perhaps, my derma is right. I should slice my Visa (credit card) into two. I have been told to by Mom, but I would not listen. This is the karma.

Lastly, it teaches me to be more prayerful. In one of my essays, I state that God have a seasonal popularity. In this modern world, God, to the contemporary person is “dispensable and superfluous” (from Can A Truly Contemporary Person Not Be An Atheist? of John A.T. Robinson). Truly, I realize the legitimacy of this perception at the onset of my financial troubles. I realize that God becomes God when (in most times) I am problematic, sad and down. And it hurts to realize this. But this is true in my case. And I pray. I pray. I pray more for enlightenment. I pray for more understanding. I pray for truth that I may see the purpose of my current situation to my life.

On a different light, I see my problems as the opportunity to be united with Him. It is not though that I like to be problematic all the time. I do not like all of these. But, seeing and being reminded of Him, is one nice thing about having problems.

But, no worries guys, I will get out of this. Soon you will see me cheerful again. I hope that you do not get sad reading this because this is not meant to make the reader sad. I share this and my other life-stories because I want them to serve as a lesson to others so they may evade the same mistake I have made.  I share this because I am simply happy when writing. I share this to express and release that certain pain and distress that need to be taken out from me.

More so, I am not writing, posting and broadcasting this to solicit monetary help or pity. This is for intellectual intensification purpose (both the writer and reader).

Like the title of Eric Berne’s book, I’m OK; you’re OK. Actually, I mean, I am okay if you are. Okay?

Note: This poem has been workshopped at the 1st XU Creative Writing Workshop held at the Malasag Gardens last November 2007. The head panelist of the said workshop is Dr. Rofel Brion of the Ateneo de Manila University.

The Cause of his cry
By Denver E. Torres

When I was in first year high school
And Adó, our youngest was yet to
Celebrate his first birthday,

I was always excited
To go home and smell his head and hair.
His head and hair smelled like the juice of the coconut fruit.

Though unlike the coconut, his head felt so delicate, soft and
Smooth as if he shampooed Mama’s Nivea.

I would rush home early after school to do this for many days.
I thought that at that time I became addicted to his smell, and

I wanted to smell him more and more.
And I was so happy when I was doing that,
Happier than watching Ghost Fighter

Happier than eating Magnolia.
And the more I smelled him, the more I

Became touchy of his head and hair
And then this would wake him up from his afternoon sleep. 
And he would cry so sharp that it will make me hurry-scurry,

Like Ming Ming, our cat when caught red-handed
Stealing the leftover fried fish in the kitchen,

And hide to the next room;
So that Yaya will not catch me.
I, the big brother, the Cause of his cry.

(This picture of a cute kid here is from Google Images. This kid though does not have any relation to the character/s in the poem. This is but for purely illustration purposes. After all the kid looks very lovely.)

Was He happy?
By Denver Ejem Torres

(for Fr. Jorge Hofileña, S.J.)

Was He happy?
When you were naughty
Or lazy,
Silly
Telling lies
About the nothing you see in the skies.

Did you ask, was He happy?
Or were you happy?

Did you? When you picked on Sam
And shouted at your friend, “Damn
You blunt-head Sam!
Was He happy even a gram?

When you left the Jam bottle
Open and uncovered near the boiling kettle.
You were always told not to but you repeated still about zillion times
So frequent and as regular as the wind bullying the chimes

Did you ask, was He up there happy?
Did you Marky?

Note: This poem was written few semesters ago particularly on the time when I took English 220 or the Children’s Literature at Xavier University.  This poem for children I dedicate to my ever youthful at heart teacher, Fr. Jorge Hofileña, S.J. Fr. Jorge is my Kindergarten and Grade School principal and later became my professor for Children’s Literature.

Perennial Pause

Spread your wings!

Yes, like that.

No, a little higher, I mean.

There!

That’s it.

Then, tilt your head.

Look down like the way

You see a worm

An inch near your feet.

Do not move your eyes.

Then, he grins.

This site is under construction. Please keep posted

My first day of April this year is so wonderful. Earlier, in the daytime I had to cook up some lies to make a valid excuse for absence from work. Despite the excuses and lies, my day ended complete and content. I am not saying that it was a wonderful, complete and content because my lies pulled through but because my absence from work paid off more than money can pay. I will tell you why.

The last night of the previous month was totally draining. It was enervating both physically and psychologically. For several nights of March, the people from the appliance center where I had my ref on installment kept on pestering me even as late as 11 o’clock in the evening. And the last evening of March was doubly draining.

The month of March was, I think in vernacular a malas (nearest in English is jinx). I was not able to pay my apartment rent on time and meant that I have to pay extra hundreds of pesos for the penalty. Plus, the electric bill for our unit was a hit-all-high P 1800, P 900 of that was my share to pay. Atop them all, I had to hear the harsh and dagger words of insult coming form my landlady. Unfortunately such headache did not end there, as the twin problem of that rent issue came in the last night of the previous month when four people from that appliance center brought court papers to repossess the ref whether or not I will it. This was only a word of mouth though from our apartment Guard.  

That rent issue made me decide to scout for another place to stay. Even if tired from the whole day work, I went to the other side of the city. The place is called Carmen. I scanned the place looking for the two words: For Rent. It was not an easy task as I needed to be on my foot. Although, part of it was exciting as I bumped into cute guys drinking beer and by standing at a corner store. I did not ask their names and numbers though. I was so tired to flirt.

Anyway, let us talk about the first evening of April.  Yes, yesternight was truly fun and pleasing. I had dinner with my crushes. But along with them are their girlfriends. But it was okay. I had so much nice time listening to the stories of strength and life in general of Tita Linda, the mother of RJ. It was also refreshing to hear stories of plans and dreams and futures. The four of them (2 couples), fresh graduates and nursing board passers had shared to the group their future steps. It was a fair evening of talk and exchanging of thoughts about life, making money, possible obstacles, better destination, better job,  dreams, and future in general. In my case, it was a silent moment of embracing of some facts in my life that cannot be changed, like, the fact that my crushes will never be mine. Also, it was a happy moment, letting go of the ill feelings and it was a more of a moment realizing that I can still be happy seeing my two handsome crushes happy with their girls.

Such evening was really fine as we ate authentic pinoy food such as tinolang isda, sinuglaw (combination of sinugba and kinilaw), calamares and sisig with egg. It was such a hearty meal. And I thought while chewing the rubber-like skin of the pork from the sinuglaw dish that this sort of food is rare for me. I do not cook this type of food. In my apartment, I fry almost all food I find in the fridge. And to be exact, it was a year and two months already that I have not eaten tinolang isda. That was perhaps the farewell dinner to pinoy foods as my fresh graduate nurses-friends may miss them for quite a while, I guess, should their work-abroad plans be realized, they will surely be missing the kinilaw and sisig. I am sure of that. More than the food, they will miss their friends, families, classmates, and me (laughing).

Listening to their stories was so inspiring. And there was from that instant this renewal of interest in life and the want to live. It seems like my problems suddenly became so light that I was able to toss it up into the air and then they disappeared like dusts. Then, I am so alive again, full of energy and ready to take on the challenge. That is to graduate and toil abroad and you know…

Yes, sad. But true, Filipinos like me do not see Philippines as a place of comfort. Happiness and comfort, to most of pinoys (I believe) are always not found in the Philippines. That’s why you see all the professionals leaving every minute.

 
Oh, did I tell you that I was able to settle my bills for my ref. That was one of the reasons why the evening was wonderful. And I was realizing, reflecting all of these while a lady was busy scrubbing off my sole’s dried calluses at ban sabai, later that evening.
By the way, their Foot Spa service is so affordable and the best so far in the whole of Cagayan de Oro. I am spahopper/spaholic by the way. ban sabai offers a complete package of foot pampering and dry massage for the head, back, upper and lower extremities. Nothing beats ban sabai’s foot spa.

I am bringing Tita Linda there soon as I secure an Elite Card from them. I love ban sabai! I thank them for completing my first evening of April. Long live ban sabai!