Michelle's Wallet (May 13,2008)

Michelle's Wallet
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia

Michelle woke up late one morning; she was rather cranky and pissed as
it takes time for her to get ready for school. With her hair undone
and all over the place, she went to the kitchen and found her mother
cooking up breakfast.
Michelle was so irritated that her mother forgot
to wake her up, teenage angst rose and she couldn't hold her tongue.
Michelle threw some harsh words blaming the fault to her mother why
she woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Her mother kept silent and
watched her took off to school without eating breakfast and banged the
door shut as she went out. While riding on the jeep, Michelle unzipped
her bag and searched for her wallet, she dug in every pocket of her
back pack but couldn't find it. Luckily a fellow schoolmate was riding
the same jeep and saved her the trouble of paying for the fare.
Michelle knew she left her wallet at home. She finally arrived at
school, not a second too late thankfully. But before she entered the
campus, she saw a woman standing on the other side of the street. The
woman looked exhausted as if grasping for breath, she was in a
housedress looking ragged and sweaty. The woman caught sight of
Michelle, let out a charming smile, and raised her hand holding a tiny
wallet. Michelle stared at her; she didn't notice the tears starting
to drip. The school bell rang, Michelle doesn't care and she was
hugging her mother tightly.

Michelle shared this story when we were in first year high school; I
wept a bucketful that day and realized how important it is to
celebrate a mother's love. Sometimes, human as we are, our emotions
get the better of us, we temporarily forget those nine long months of
discomfort, several hours of painful labor and the decades of endless
patience she had offered. A mother's love is difficult to understand,
unless you become a mother yourself. Very early in the morning she
wakes up and starts to multifunction, doing mountains of laundry,
cooking a hearty breakfast and preparing our stuff for school all at
the same time, the most amazing part is, she does this every single
day with minimum regressions. Very late in the evening she is still
wide awake, ironing our school uniform for tomorrow, checking our
homework for some corrections and making sure we are all tucked in bed
before she sleeps, the most amazing part is, she does this every
single night with a calm smile on her face.


Imperfections, everybody has them even our dear mothers. Often times,
we think they can do almost anything that when they fail us, their
single fault blinds us from the millions of good night kisses, neatly
polished school shoes, and cute orange jumpers they have given us.
When we feel feverish and scared at night, and seems like our trusty
blanket had betrayed us, it goes out automatically crying out their
names; nanay, mama, mom, please come here. If you have your mom beside
you, be grateful, because every time you failed an exam, missed the
winning shot in a basketball game or broke up with your boyfriend,
she's just right there, her simple hug and gentle words will dry those
tears. A lot of times we take her for granted, and forget about her
when we're having fun, when we're at the top of our game, Shame on us.
But still, she understands, she forgives.

When my mother and I go shopping, every time we would stop for a
pretty blouse her size, she would just look at it for a while then
tell me she'll buy herself one next time, we end up buying all the
clothes I like. She always says that she's already happy if she could
purchase a complete set of groceries, but the point is she doesn't
even enjoy half of what she bought. There are instances I would feel
bad and guilty, but I couldn't do much right now, nor even when I
become a professional someday, I couldn't do much to repay her. But,
somehow when I become a mother I'll show my children the same love my
own mother had shown me. This mother's day and everyday while she's
here, remember to show her your love.

When you come home today don't forget to greet her and offer her a
kiss. If you could spend hours laughing and having a good time with
your peers, why not your mother, who continues to be with you even if
every friend you have deserted you. If your mother's abroad, spare
some change and call her. If you could spend twenty pesos on the
internet chatting with someone you barely know, why not your mother,
who works over time and extends hours just to put bread on the table.
When you both started the day with a disagreement, come home with a
sorry face and apologize. If my friend Michelle did why couldn't you?

She may at times be imperfect.
But her love never fails us.

Happy Mothers Day!

Limited Edition (May 6,2008)

Limited Edition

By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia

Imported television, this appears to be the current talk of the town. Major television stations in our country take turns in bidding for production rights of latest hit television shows on the other side of the globe. More and more foreign based quiz shows are squeezing themselves in thus, extending primetime to wee hours of the night. More and more reality programs and singing contests are driving more support from the public through voting and polls thus, giving the telecommunication networks a run for their capital. More and more remakes of yet another Asian drama mania are keeping the public's eyes peeled thus, providing more debut for promising love teams. We may see native actors and celebrities still starring these shows, but let us open our eyes; Philippine television starts to grow out of its name. Our country has a hobby for creating local versions of almost anything coming from abroad. We started from fashion, chocolates, and movies. Now stopping at nothing, we localized imported television shows.

We have found an easier way around, an easy street, a shortcut. Since those television shows have been a huge chartbuster in their own native lands, we took advantage of those names and trademarks, definite that it will do the same effect to our own country. It was indeed successful and a sure win, making it more than just a fad to our entertainment industry, it has already been a standard. I don't oppose in anyway to these current realities, I myself am quite hooked to outsmarting fifth graders or spinning wheels for money. I am just anxious of the consequences that will come sometime soon. On a small scale basis our means of importing foreign based television shows resembles a struggling casting agency trying to find a look-a-like of a huge celebrity. Because the celebrity is continued to be swarmed by millions of screaming fans, that celebrity's personality, physical appearance and overall appeal is profit. So, here comes a look-a-like that would copy off the big shot and settles for secondary attention, supporting roles and adequate talent fee. The scenario doesn't stop there.

It may be quite beneficial to the look-a-like; it may appear that the struggling casting agency is sucking all the gains using the celebrity's name, but that's only one side to the story. Since you copy off someone, you're bound for criticisms and comments; you're immediately put under comparison with the original one. The look-a-like's life will be set to the standards, not of himself, nor the struggling casting agency, but that of the celebrity. What the celebrity does, the look-a-like must follow with twice the effort. Same through with any situation, once you made use of the original you must avoid scratches; you must not take detour with what's set by the original. These television shows based from who knows where are locked up from free will and decision making, Filipino franchisers are not in the position to, they can only adopt but never adapt. Call me bitter, but I am guilty of criticizing some copies our country has made. I keep on comparing our own hosts from the original hosts of the show; I keep on contrasting the voice of an unknown yet popular homeowner to his original version. These are quite inevitable, as they come with the decision of copying off someone.

Although, I admire and want to be like a lot of people, I like more myself to be original. I wanted to be known for my own efforts, not for mimicking others. I want myself to be criticized according to my own standards and not to another else's. I don't want to be a version of, I want to be a rare limited edition. I could not tell if until when this fad of imported television shows may cease. I could not even tell if what other copies our country would be making. But somehow, I am sure, that it is but always that a copy will never be the original one, and it will end up trying and trying to desperately be like the primer. I think it is much more pleasant to hear someone telling you, you set a record rather than you beaten one. Being original is sometimes quite difficult because you seem to be blinded with the bounties of another's success, popularity or even audience ratings. But wouldn't it be more fulfilling and satisfying that it is your own, and you can make decisions on your own without thinking of what they might say. No one can sue you nor blame you for being original. It's your patent. It's your trademark. Don't settle for looking like someone. Be that someone in your own right.

Spicing up a Relationship (April 29,2008)

Spicing up a Relationship
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia

It has been eight hours now, and I am aware it will take even longer.
It was torture as I saw him leave defeated and rejected; he was too
late it seemed. My heart groped in sympathy as he silently weeps in
pain; my eyes understood and they began to leak in tears. Then I felt
shivers all around me, it was far beyond the pain both he and I
shared. It was too difficult to hold in. I had no choice. His world
came to a pause, I am not sure if he even noticed. The next thing I
know, I rushed to the toilet and obeyed diligently nature's call, my
vision was still foggy as I had been crying for a while. I went back,
spared no more time and pushed the play button on the remote control
and saw him come to life once more. Yes, I was once again enjoying the
bounties of reading the subtitles. Yes, I was watching yet again
another asian drama series in one seating that normal people would do
in three months time.

I had always been a sucker for happy endings where she walks down the
aisle with the theme song sang and flashbacks start to play. Yet, I am
more thrilled with the less loved scenes where she tells him they are
not meant for each other, that he's better off with someone whom his
controlling mother favors more. Although I cry my lungs out with these
sad scenes, I am always fond of expecting more of those than sweet
bone tickling moments. Call me sadistic, but it is when two people
risk happy endings and admit they are not sure of what is to come that
teaches them if they indeed are meant to be together. I may not have
the wealth of experience, but seeing the reality, relationships are
made stronger through difficult times and failures. These gives both
husband and wife, would be lovers, and even friends the chance to
evaluate themselves and see if they need to hold on or painfully let
go.

When my parents fight, it becomes an awkwardly surreal experience for
me. I am afraid of those silent moments when none of them seems to
care. I am terrified of those heated moments when both of them take
turns in a war of words filled with anxiety and regrets. I am most
frightened that in the end I may have to choose whom I'll be living
with after separation. But, the moment they realized it was time to
stop, the moment they realize it was time to rewind and start once
more, the moment they begin to smile at each other again, is when
those fears becomes rightly worth it and meaningful. Their love
successfully passed another heck of an exam.

Fights between closer relationships had always rooted up from one
common scenario. It is when we forget to live together, and start to
live on one's own. It may not appear to be such a huge factor, but
little by little they all clog up until fixing it would be of no use.
Husbands who at times fail to see that a wife need more than financial
stability; a simple hug, a simple kiss, a simple text message telling
his wife where he currently is. These remind her that he values her to
the simplest of his actions, these remind her of a love that requires
no logic and reason, these remind her that he is still brave enough to
break out from that manly pride and show her he cares. Wives who at
times fail to see that a husband has already enough of the nagging and
bickering; a calmer approach to misunderstandings, a sweet smile to
welcome him home, a fiat to the career of taking care of his children.
These remind him that she was that same charming woman he once fell in
love, these remind him that there is still a reason to strive and dig
for the best, these remind him that she is still patient enough to
stick with him through what has been and what will soon come.

Same goes to friends who each have a role, complementing one another.
But the fights they had surprisingly turns out to be one of the
funniest topics they could have during their out of the blue
conversations. Those fights and arguments made them see what each of
them needs to change or improve to keep firm the very roots of their
friendship. Spices adds flavor to almost any food. Same goes with any
relationship. Without debates, disagreements or misunderstandings
there will be no thrill at all. Without them I wouldn't stay eight
long hours reading some subtitles on screen. Without them no one could
say they were meant for each other.

Without them there wouldn't be such a thing called destiny.

My brother Ramon (April 22,2008)

My brother Ramon
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia

I stood in front of the nursery room; my six year old self had never felt so excited. I have been trying to get the nurse’s attention for quite some time; there were awfully a lot of crying babies keeping her busy. I turned to my father, who was as eager as I am, asked him for the name card and flashed it on the glass window. Then, seconds later a cute baby boy lying on his crib approached us, and greeted us with his constant yawns. My heart was so full that I wanted to go right pass the glass window and hug that cute little baby in my arms and whisper in his ears, hello my baby brother. Those were the days; eleven years had gone past so quickly that I never noticed how that adorable baby boy would soon turn out to be taller than I am. Those were the days; my baby brother now morphed into a non-stop irritatingly annoying machine who runs on lifetime batteries and main features are to bring bothersome torture and sibling dilemma to my life. Those were the days; that cuddly infant trying all his might to open and close his little fists, now once in a while hits his not so cuddly fists to my upper arm whenever I tease him crushing on a girl.

Being an elder sister isn’t as fun as it appears to be. Some may think the older ones are in control, can manipulate their younger pests – I mean siblings. Well, think again. Take my younger brother for example; my supposed to be semi-perfect day starts out all sunny and according to plan but after he gets on stealing my tv hours, bothering my study time and rampaging the refrigerator until no food is left, my day is as you would predict, ruined. How I hate it when he begs me to help him with his homework; because when I would mercifully do and solved it for him, he starts acting as if he already knows the answers in the first place and erased my existence from his stubborn little mind. If I were given the opportunity to write a resignation letter to the older brothers and sisters association of the universe, I would. If I can give you hundreds of reasons and explain them comprehensively in an unbiased level, I would. But you know what? I can’t. Better yet, I wouldn’t.

Although he would get too annoying and could often times blow up my nerves, science simply blurts out that blood is in fact denser than water. Yes, he may be the very definition of butt pains but when he gets all sentimental and brotherly he shoots bull’s eye at my weak point. I heard him on the phone one night, at first I thought he was probably bragging about how he captured the legendary what’s-his-name with a master ball in his pokemon game. But, he was bragging about someone otherwise. He was proudly telling his friend how I graduated in high school with honors and write decent articles. Just recently on my birthday, he surprised me with a hand made card with colorful stickers and a poem he personally made. I didn’t realize how he treasured those moments when I would sit down his side and help him with his homework. These are the times when this irritated and annoyed seventeen year old becomes a big sister to a wonderful baby brother.

My mother always told me that I should not be jealous of my brother. Yes, I too am a victim of sibling rivalry, but not in an intense degree. There were times I wondered why he gets higher grades even if he spends more time flicking the remote than the pages of his text books. There were times I wondered why he could easily play tunes on piano even if he heard the song just once, while if I would give it a try all I get is a plain sour and disfigured noise. But, a sister like me who has an incredible and talented brother should be more proud and less envious. I could not imagine being an only child, not that it’s boring or resentful because you got all the attention and love of your parents, but because of these simple reasons. It’s yummier to eat with a sibling even if you would get only a half of what you both are eating (or a fourth of it you are four siblings in the family). It’s more exciting to play chess with someone who laughs at your wrong moves and you won’t get hurt that much. It’s more fun to wake up every morning with an annoying eleven year old saying you look horrible and your breath stinks. It’s more meaningful to live a lifetime with someone calling you ate, manang, kuya, toto, or inday all throughout.

Today is my brother Ramon’s birthday. I am sure this mushy article of mine won’t change anything of our ruthless arguments and remote control debates but this will remind my little brother of how much I appreciate him, of how much my life was made more colorful now that he’s around.

It was eleven years ago that I became a sister.
I will forever be one.

Happy 11th Birthday Ramon Ariel Ken M. Garcia!

Laundry and Black Briefs (April 15,2008)

Laundry and Black Briefs
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia

Household chores, they make up the list of good deeds little children send to North Pole weeks before Christmas. Household chores, they are part of a month’s worth of torture after dad says you’re grounded. Household chores, they are the conditions before your thumbs get to work on game boys and your wallets filled with allowance. Sometimes a helpless grounded kid might wonder, if these chores were really intended for house keeping, or are they just the next in thing for parents who’d like to torture their children with the slow and burning pain of boredom. Yet, sometimes a bored seventeen year old who has nothing to do on a two month long summer vacation might wonder, if these chores are more than meets the eye.

My mother couldn’t force me to do the laundry or tidy up my bed on school days even if I presume she had been trying to. I simply couldn’t afford to spend some thirty minutes watching a washing machine rotating red boxer shorts, black briefs and a pair of knee socks clockwise and counterclockwise. I would rather spend those thirty minutes ravaging my textbook in chemistry. But now that vacation defines more free time and a break from all brain chores, I took the liberty of trying my skills in laundry, sweeping, fixing beds and those that are yet to come.

A lot of people take household chores for granted, seeing these tasks to be quite lenient and ordinary. I would be a hypocrite if I would deny that sometime ago I did not appreciate much my mother’s effort on keeping our home in order. But a couple of spins made me value more their importance. The steamy rice we see on our tables every meal time. Yes, it may take just some minutes to wash the grains and several more to cook them but someone’s effort of remembering to cook rice for us is not a simple act, especially if this someone wasn’t paid to do so. The shirts we wear and our habit of digging our noses to get a sniff of the detergent’s fragrance. Yes, it may take just two cups of laundry powder and a number of spins to finish them up and hang them dry but someone’s effort of getting those hard-to-get stains off is not a simple act, especially if only a fifth of those washed clothes belonged to that someone.

If it is that menial to do household chores, why do people continually hire housekeepers? We always get that notion of household chores being inferior compared to other tasks. I beg to differ. That hearty and yummy breakfast laid on the table keeps dad fueled up for work for the rest of the day. That cleaned and ironed uniform worn by junior on school days gets him the confidence to raise his right arm and answer the teacher’s question. We tend to disregard the huge value little things such as doing laundry and cooking up rice does. I guess one should get their hands soaked up in soapy water before they could see its significance.

Responsibility, now that is one thing these household chores teach us. I seemed to be programmed in some way that every five o’clock in the after noon, the hour is solely between me and my machine, my washing machine. It even gives me more satisfaction after seeing my mother smile at me, as she now irons the clothes I previously washed and hanged dry. Summer is just a matter of two months, and after which I’ll be back to my hermit self, isolating from the actual world as I dig on my newly bought text books. I may not be certain if could help my mother in the chores as I would do this vacation. I am not that sure if I could spare another thirty minutes to spin some black briefs and red boxer shorts clean on a night before my midterms. But, I am definite that every morning before going to school I won’t forget to thank my mother for waking up even earlier to cook up breakfast. I am certain that every time I’d stain my white uniform I will feel more depressed than I once did. I am sure that from now on household chores won’t be just some good deed list a kid makes for Santa Claus.

Got nothing to do this summer?
Fix your bed. Cook Rice.
They aren’t so boring after all.

The Kalesa's Competence (April 8,2008)

The Kalesa’s Competence
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia

She stood at the middle of the studio. I was sitting crossed-legged on the bed, hugging my pillow. Her face was wrinkled in tension; her knees wobbled in fear and her fingernails already nibbled in anxiety. I seemed to have finished two packs of potato chips; I took the remote control and adjusted the volume. The quizmaster repeated the question once more; he seems to be pleased at how the lady trembles in apprehension. I held my fingers crossed and kept on repeating the correct answer, as I knew it too well. She gulped heavily and wiped her hands soaked in sweat, pulled out her index finger and pushed the button. I heaved a sigh of disappointment, stripped open the third junk food and watch her lose the one hundred thousand dollar question. Often times you just can’t help but to virtually join the contestant on television and pretend you’re in the quiz show too. That lady proved to be competitive for reaching such a high level, while I proved to be competent for answering rightly that question.

Competent and Competitive, the root word seems to be similar but after adding some affixes the meaning repels each other. The lady was competitive as she was in the zone of proving to millions of viewers that she is intelligent and is worth that one hundred thousand dollars. I was competent as I was in the zone of proving to myself I knew the answer even if no one was with me at that time. Competence is different from competition, and most of time, we tend to interchange their definitions. The way I see it, you can be competent without being competitive, but you can’t be competitive without being competent. There are only few competent people who decide to remain competent rather than competitive, I admire them. But, a large number of people are nowhere near competent but decide to be competitive, I wonder why.

Forgive my ecstatic mind, I see things differently. Our society has a nature to be competitive, so we train and exhaust more effort to bring out the best and the most exemplary produce that we can offer to global market. But, competence lies on satisfaction and confidence with oneself, without it one will just remain to be competitive, to do all means to run ahead of everybody. A competent person has that knowledge that he is competent and whether he competes or not, he’s assured of himself that sooner or later he can be a self actualized individual. I see 1,289 new lawyers joining the law firms of our country and abroad, may they be more competent and less competitive. The have proven themselves competitive besting the other 4,337 others who failed to procure the title of attorney, but competence lies in each of their own workplaces, of their relation to others, of their consistency, of their satisfaction.

I admit, I always wanted to be the best. Who doesn’t? In each of us lies a spirited urge of competition. I wanted to run ahead of everyone. I get competitive. But you know what, at the end of the day those medals, promotions, and even cash prizes would simply be temporary. Sure everyone left behind you will admire you for your amazing accomplishments but, it will only last for some minutes and hours. The next year there will come more competition, more achievers such as yourself who’ll run the race like you did, thus you won’t stop from racing and being competitive. Being competent is also competing, but it is a competition with no other contestants rather than yourself.

If we continue to be competitive, we might lose track of our own competition and in the end wonder why even if we got everything we raced for, none seem to be satisfying. There is a great lesson we see from our local kalesas. You know why there’s a pair of covering called blinders or winkers that forbids the horses to look on the sides? Their drivers wanted them to remain focused on the road, refrain from looking at other kalesas so they won’t compete against them, and blinding them from all the distractions. Yes, their drivers wanted them to be competent kalesas rather than competitive kalesas.

There’s a difference between competitive and competent.
The latter seems better.

Birthday Presence (April 1,2008)

Birthday Presence
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia

Colorful triangular flaglets proudly bear a commercial sponsor’s logo and hang with entwining electrical lines. Ferris wheels, roller coasters and merry-go-rounds keep the nearby plaza crowded with people. Drumbeats and xylophone chimes join the tossing and turning of majorette batons each contributing to the jovial music that fills the streets with cheer. Mouthwatering festive foods abound in almost all houses, as well as the guests. These describe a typical Filipino fiesta, one custom that’s unique to the Philippines. It’s a festivity where everyone gets to make use of aluminum wraps for take home, have a VIP pass to almost any house in the community, and crown the most attractive lady as queen. Just a week ago, I hosted a barangay fiesta’s coronation night. There were gowns bathe in glittering designs and for a few hours the barangay transformed to a royal monarchy with five princesses and a queen. But as I had the bird’s eye view on stage, I saw more than tiaras and scepters.

There were limited chairs reserved for some particular guests distinguished with garlands, while the rest of the not so particular audience stayed at the back, standing all throughout the program. Wait, wasn’t this a barangay fiesta? Isn’t this celebration more intended for the residents and less to the so called guests? The fiesta commemorates the history and culture of the place, how it came it be and the lifestyle of its people. From how I see it, a fiesta resembles a birthday celebration; a special day not of the guests but of someone who’ll blow the candles on the cake. It’s a pity the birthday celebrators were left to stand at the back, unnoticed and left out while the guests take center stage and enjoy the limelight.

There was disappointment in the eyes of the audience after realizing the guest they’re all waiting for failed to come and grace the event. Streamers with large striking fonts of guest’s name filled every corner of the barangay showing how much anticipation everyone felt. I salute that guest for doing such an amazing job of crushing these poor people’s hearts. To add to that, I applaud to that guest for making my job as host for that night more difficult, as that remarkable guest suppose to be in almost all parts of the program. Say goodbye to scripted and prepared hosting, and say hello to impromptu and panic blabber. A people’s hope is like a balloon, as it grows in strength it fills up and expands beautifully but when you pop it obliviously it explodes in the most repulsive way you could possibly think of, yes it becomes nagging, clamor, rallies, uprisings, revolts and sometimes petitions for impeachment.

I couldn’t put all of the blame to our culture; we are, as you would expect, impeccably hospitable and self-sacrificing. But, let us not forget the most basic principle of living; give when you have something to give. Let us provide ourselves with decent chairs first before letting other people sit in an expensive couch. It may appear to be a saint-like quality we Filipinos practice, but sad to say, in the end that generosity we give is often times abused and taken advantage of. We give and give and leave nothing to ourselves, but those people who have received from us don’t usually do the same thing. This, I believe is not selfishness, it’s just a simple thing I call justice. Those people whom we look up to, those people who we wish could lead us, those guests we treasure, may they realize that sometimes simple acts like attending a barangay coronation night and staying for a while would save an average man’s hopes of being a few meters away from a human being he admires. Mr. Honorable, please believe a seventeen year old when she says, spare a little time from your busy and hectic schedule to smile and wave at some hundreds of excited people who also spared a little time from their busy and hectic schedule just to see you.

These coming months celebrates most of the country’s fiestas and festivals. I hope the next time I host a coronation night there will be more seats enough for everyone to sit. I hope the streamers and welcoming marching bands will not be wasted in regrets and disappointments.

I see no logic of giving the best if we haven’t receive the best in the first place.

The birthday celebrants deserve more than your presents.
They need your presence.