Hi,
There are a few things that you should know about me that I won't be able to tell verbally. Hence, this ijot guide. I hope this helps.
1. If I start singing out of the blue, know that I've been singing inside my head minutes before. If we are in a public place, whisper and tell me "too loud." (or you can always sing with me.)
2. If I randomly dance, let me lest we are in a cramped space and I'm hurting someone's boob or head already.
3. If we are watching a movie with intense scenes, expect me to huddle and cover my eyes with your arms. If I cry, remind me that I have emergency tissue in my bag.
4. In case I have a panic attack, hold my hand, address my concern, and tell me that everything will be alright. Do not tell me to calm down - I will just do the opposite.
5. In case I miss out on a hang-out, please forgive me. I am probably inside my room, unable to defeat my demons for the day. Know that I will always, always long to be with you and to miss out on a hang-out is not normal.
6. There will be times that I will call you and say nothing...at first. Please don't put down the phone.
7. Letters. You'll find them written on post-its, tissue paper, or here. Know that you cross my mind.
8. Surprises. Big or little, this is my way of saying I am thankful for you.
9. I like you. I don't see you as just a friend.
10. If this is too much, you are free to leave. The door is always open.
Thursday, May 19, 2016
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Scared
I'm very scared.
There are a lot of thoughts and questions inside my head that I want to burst out whenever I talk to you. I did not want to breach the security of our relationship just to get answers but now, I realized that I am too far along to even care about security.
I like you. I really do. I look forward to every text, every story, every thought, and every song that we tell each other. And while I did say that we should still be friends...are we really just friends? Why do I feel like I'm letting you in to the shadowy corners of me? Why do I give you a lot of time that I normally will not give to just any friend? Are you just being friendly? Is this your type of friendship?
Tell me because I need more motivation to keep myself in check. Tell me because I'm scared.
I'm scared because you are real. You are real and you are beautiful and I never imagined of having this sense of comfort and longing for another person. You are real and you are telling me I am praise-worthy and I just want to tell you that damn, the girls you loved before are so lucky. You are real and I'm trying so hard, so very hard, to build more walls around my heart but you are just there, knocking everything down.
You are real and I do not know what to do anymore because fuck my illnesses, I think it's too late.
Wednesday, January 6, 2016
Episode 5: Start of Something New
Dear self,
You were told by your psychiatrist that you are on the journey of healing, and not of perfection. The goal is to be more self-compassionate - to be the person yourself needs and wants the most. And I think she's right. As such, I made a list that you should follow during the whole 2016 and beyond. Here it is:
1. You are on your way to have a healthier lifestyle, and not to lose weight deliberately.
2. Accept your body's limits. It's the only one you have, might as well love it and cherish it.
3. You don't have to conform to society's meaning of success. You don't need anyone's validation except yours and His. Do what you must, but do it by principle.
4. Avoid logical fallacies.
5. Make more art. Never be afraid of giving the world more color.
6. Don't be afraid to discover the depths. Jump!
7. Stay at your second job for years. Work passionately.
8. Honey, promise me you won't wait on anyone anymore.
9. Remember: You are not a burden. You deserve to be loved.
10. Stand by your principles, but be more open.
11. It's okay to be tired. :-)
I'm counting on you, dear. There will be bad days, but the good ones outweigh them, no? Become more.
Yrs,
Chelly
You were told by your psychiatrist that you are on the journey of healing, and not of perfection. The goal is to be more self-compassionate - to be the person yourself needs and wants the most. And I think she's right. As such, I made a list that you should follow during the whole 2016 and beyond. Here it is:
1. You are on your way to have a healthier lifestyle, and not to lose weight deliberately.
2. Accept your body's limits. It's the only one you have, might as well love it and cherish it.
3. You don't have to conform to society's meaning of success. You don't need anyone's validation except yours and His. Do what you must, but do it by principle.
4. Avoid logical fallacies.
5. Make more art. Never be afraid of giving the world more color.
6. Don't be afraid to discover the depths. Jump!
7. Stay at your second job for years. Work passionately.
8. Honey, promise me you won't wait on anyone anymore.
9. Remember: You are not a burden. You deserve to be loved.
10. Stand by your principles, but be more open.
11. It's okay to be tired. :-)
I'm counting on you, dear. There will be bad days, but the good ones outweigh them, no? Become more.
Yrs,
Chelly
Monday, December 28, 2015
Episode 4: Weary
It's been two months since I am officially diagnosed with depression and anxiety. 10 years since I first felt them.
It's been a month since my family and I figured out I probably have fibromyalgia. Years since I've first lived with pain.
Pain and agony has always been my company, but love has always been my refuge. Both times I feel pain and I feel joy, I cry. The moments I feel tired and I feel infinite, I think. The years I suffered and I triumphed, I celebrate. I am a human who has felt both the dichotomy and the 'oneness' of life. I am like everyone else - a work-in-progress.
But I've been struggling with accepting that I am chronically ill. I was in denial. I wanted answers to my questions. To me, I've had enough bullshit and issues for this lifetime. I am so tempted to give up because I am tired - very tired, and very weary. I've been fighting with everything that I am but it seems like it is not enough. I am still ill. Still with limitations. Still "not normal".
Yet now, I feel myself softly warming, carefully hoping, and slowly opening. I am very tired, yes, but I can wonder. I can dream. I can still fly.
It's been a month since my family and I figured out I probably have fibromyalgia. Years since I've first lived with pain.
Pain and agony has always been my company, but love has always been my refuge. Both times I feel pain and I feel joy, I cry. The moments I feel tired and I feel infinite, I think. The years I suffered and I triumphed, I celebrate. I am a human who has felt both the dichotomy and the 'oneness' of life. I am like everyone else - a work-in-progress.
But I've been struggling with accepting that I am chronically ill. I was in denial. I wanted answers to my questions. To me, I've had enough bullshit and issues for this lifetime. I am so tempted to give up because I am tired - very tired, and very weary. I've been fighting with everything that I am but it seems like it is not enough. I am still ill. Still with limitations. Still "not normal".
Yet now, I feel myself softly warming, carefully hoping, and slowly opening. I am very tired, yes, but I can wonder. I can dream. I can still fly.
Friday, November 20, 2015
Downtown Boy / Girl of the Golden Hour
For a girl who loved sunrises and sunsets,
imagined the colorful and tragic
endings of her relationships,
and knew that everything is finite,
I should have docked and walked out of
the coffee shop the minute we saw each other,
the second our eyes met,
and our mouths melted into a smile.
I should have let you be a stranger.
You should have been just a stranger -
full of possibilities I can write about,
wonder about,
and love about.
You should have remained to be an idea,
a dream so unforgettable, I'd write
a story instead of a poem.
But you asked my name, made small talk, checked the spelling of my favorite book character's name,
and gave me my favorite tea.
In return, I gave you my peals of laughter, my stares, my increased heart rate,
and my words.
Too long, your manager said. We've been
creating a line.
Let her go - this is what your boss really meant.
As if the universe heard her, the golden hour set in.
Like Cinderella, I had to go -
for I chase sunsets for a living and you
pay your bills with coffee, tea, and smiles.
And we both knew that.
We both knew we had to end -
before we even began.
This is the saddest poem I've written.
And I'm sorry; this is for you.
Saturday, November 14, 2015
Kanta na para sana sa iyo
Chorus:
Dahil sa bawat pagsiat at paglubog ng araw
Iniisip ko kung pansamantala ring
Tumitigil ang inog ng iyong mundo
Para sa alaala at ngiti kong alay sa'yo
Verses:
Di na mapigilan damdaming kinikimkim
Ang magkaibigan ngayo'y nagkakaibigan
Pusoy'y ibibiga't walang hinihiling kapalit
Pagkat ganyan kita minamahal, o sinta
Laging gustong kausap; hindi na mapakali
Sa unang pagmulat ikaw ang inaalala
Sa huling pagsara ipinagdarasal
Na sana'y ikaw ang mapaginipan
Bridge:
Di inaakalang ika'y mahahanap
Sa bilyong taong lumilibot sa mundo
Ang nais lang ay makapiling mo
sa habang buhay
Dahil sa bawat pagsiat at paglubog ng araw
Iniisip ko kung pansamantala ring
Tumitigil ang inog ng iyong mundo
Para sa alaala at ngiti kong alay sa'yo
Verses:
Di na mapigilan damdaming kinikimkim
Ang magkaibigan ngayo'y nagkakaibigan
Pusoy'y ibibiga't walang hinihiling kapalit
Pagkat ganyan kita minamahal, o sinta
Laging gustong kausap; hindi na mapakali
Sa unang pagmulat ikaw ang inaalala
Sa huling pagsara ipinagdarasal
Na sana'y ikaw ang mapaginipan
Bridge:
Di inaakalang ika'y mahahanap
Sa bilyong taong lumilibot sa mundo
Ang nais lang ay makapiling mo
sa habang buhay
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Waiting for the Train
Like an interlock of stars,
flesh to flesh, braided freely -
we held on as tightly as we could
even as we saw
the rushing train of truth
blazing towards us.
"We are real," you whispered like a prayer.
"No. We are paperdolls," I countered softly.
"We are cursed."
Those who started
as a game of pretend
often end up with dead hearts
as the avalanche of illusions they built
bury them.
We are a dream,
a beautiful, tragic dream.
"I'm not letting go."
You stared head on.
But I know, my love,
that you won't be sleeping
beside me in the morning.
Denial has always been your weapon,
slashing at an invisible enemy.
As soon as you wake up,
you will run away; you always had the tendency.
But I understand, my love.
We pretended to be young, foolish,
and lived like teenagers -
naive enough to believe that pretensions
can last forever.
So I let you hold my hand,
kiss my cheek,
and tousle my hair.
Because when tomorrow comes,
you won't be at my bedside.
You will be at hers, the first.
flesh to flesh, braided freely -
we held on as tightly as we could
even as we saw
the rushing train of truth
blazing towards us.
"We are real," you whispered like a prayer.
"No. We are paperdolls," I countered softly.
"We are cursed."
Those who started
as a game of pretend
often end up with dead hearts
as the avalanche of illusions they built
bury them.
We are a dream,
a beautiful, tragic dream.
"I'm not letting go."
You stared head on.
But I know, my love,
that you won't be sleeping
beside me in the morning.
Denial has always been your weapon,
slashing at an invisible enemy.
As soon as you wake up,
you will run away; you always had the tendency.
But I understand, my love.
We pretended to be young, foolish,
and lived like teenagers -
naive enough to believe that pretensions
can last forever.
So I let you hold my hand,
kiss my cheek,
and tousle my hair.
Because when tomorrow comes,
you won't be at my bedside.
You will be at hers, the first.
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
Birthday Wishes
1. Spanish Classes from Instituto de Cervantes
2. Painting Easel and Watercolour Canvass
3. A Question of Heroes by Nick Joaquin
4. One-year Subscription to Esquire Classic
5. A turn table and vinyl records of Nat King Cole, Eraserheads, and Frank Sinatra
6. An OPM mixtape of songs by Ebe Dancel, Paolo Valenciano, Johnoy Danao, The Ransom Collective, Parokya ni Edgar, and Eraserheads.
7. A trip to Las Casas Azucar de Filipinas
8. The Metropolitan Museum of Manila Privilege Card
9. A DVD/CD of Cinema Paradiso
10. Film for Lomo Cam
Just because I'd like to think there is a fairy godmother, somewhere. =)
2. Painting Easel and Watercolour Canvass
3. A Question of Heroes by Nick Joaquin
4. One-year Subscription to Esquire Classic
5. A turn table and vinyl records of Nat King Cole, Eraserheads, and Frank Sinatra
6. An OPM mixtape of songs by Ebe Dancel, Paolo Valenciano, Johnoy Danao, The Ransom Collective, Parokya ni Edgar, and Eraserheads.
7. A trip to Las Casas Azucar de Filipinas
8. The Metropolitan Museum of Manila Privilege Card
9. A DVD/CD of Cinema Paradiso
10. Film for Lomo Cam
Just because I'd like to think there is a fairy godmother, somewhere. =)
Friday, June 12, 2015
Mahal
Mahal -
Maari ba kitang tawaging mahal? Kahit ngayong gabi lang. Kahit hanggang sa huling salita lang ng tulang ito.
Mahal, mahal. Hay, mahal.
Limang taon.
Bakit nga ba hindi mo ako kayang mahalin? Paki-ulit. Pakisabi.
Pakisabi naman muli, oh.
Pakisabi ulit sa puso kong hindi matuto-tuto.
Pakisabi muli kasi kahit na paulit-ulit sa ulo ko na -
Mahal.
Mahal na mahal pa rin kita.
Mahal na kita
Mula noong hayskul palang tayo.
Mula noong inimbita kita sa prom namin - ngunit hindi ka naman rin pumunta.
Kahit noong hindi natuloy ang panunuod natin sa sine - iMax pa nga sana eh - ng Harry Potter 7 part 2
Kahit noong hindi ka sumipot at pinaghintay mo ko buong gabi sa campus ng Ateneo para magdinner - Mahal, hindi ka man lang nagtext. Piso lang naman iyon.
Kahit noong tatlong beses kang umurong sa lunch catch-up natin.
Mahal, noon mula ngayon,
Mahal na mahal kita.
at ang sakit-sakit na.
Kasi, mahal,
Hindi ako direksyon. Hindi ako ang taong puwede mong iwan kapag sa palagay mo nasa tamang landas ka at babalikan kapag nawawala ka na sa dami ng rutang puwede mong puntahan.
Mahal, hindi ako sagot.
Hindi ako ang solusyon sa mga problema mo - career man o pamilya. Hindi ako shock-absorber. Hindi ako answer key. Hindi ako unan.
Mahal, hindi ako bagay o ideya o lugar.
Mahal, tao ako.
Tao ako na kailangan rin ng masasandalan.
Tao ako na humahanap rin ng lugar niya sa mundo.
Tao rin ako na napapagod.
Tao rin ako na uhaw sa pagmamahal.
Mahal, mahal na mahal kita at kailangan na kitang palayain.
Kailangan ko namang mahalin ang sarili ko.
Mahal, maari ba kitang tawaging mahal sa huling pagkakataon?
Mahal, mahal. Hay, mahal.
Paalam
Monday, March 16, 2015
Episode 3: Everything IS Okay (And will be awesome)
I finally talked to someone about my problems, (Yes for opening up!) and took off days to really reflect about what I want to do now. Time really helped in slowing down whatever aggressive thoughts I had, as the passing of hours doing all the art projects, planning for meet-ups, and running led me to realize a few things. I am not entirely better - but I am better than before and I am okay with that. At least for now, it is enough.
So, let me list down the epiphanies I had for the past 3 days:
1. I can never live without art. As such, I should build my career and lifestyle around it. This will be one of my non-negotiables in life. I will breathe in any form of art if this means it will always be with me.
2. Teaching is not the only way.
3. Being kind goes a longer way than scheming or taking advantage of people. Being soft too. Yes, it is easier to harden after all the bullshit this world made us go through; however, isn't it better not to contribute to the bs other people are experiencing and actually help them along their way?
4. "You will never, ever be empty." - God to me, last Sunday.
5. I am not meant to be a teacher. Nor a doctor. Nor a nurse. Nor a nun. I am not meant to practice any profession because I actually choose to be one. I choose which passion I am willing to rigorously pour my heart and soul into. And I choose to be a storyteller - in any form, in any way.
6. My life maybe a little fucked up but it is not hopeless.
7. I am blessed.
8. It is okay to take time to recover. I don't have to be so hard on myself. Life is not a sprint.
9. "Everyone needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else." - Richard Siken
10. Forgive. Exorcise every grudge that has taken residence in the recess of the heart as it will only make you diabetic to chances and opportunities to be happier.
11. Love. Always, all ways.
It feels so liberating to put these into writing. I am believing, more than ever, that brighter days are coming soon. I just gotta hold my head up high.
So, let me list down the epiphanies I had for the past 3 days:
1. I can never live without art. As such, I should build my career and lifestyle around it. This will be one of my non-negotiables in life. I will breathe in any form of art if this means it will always be with me.
2. Teaching is not the only way.
3. Being kind goes a longer way than scheming or taking advantage of people. Being soft too. Yes, it is easier to harden after all the bullshit this world made us go through; however, isn't it better not to contribute to the bs other people are experiencing and actually help them along their way?
4. "You will never, ever be empty." - God to me, last Sunday.
5. I am not meant to be a teacher. Nor a doctor. Nor a nurse. Nor a nun. I am not meant to practice any profession because I actually choose to be one. I choose which passion I am willing to rigorously pour my heart and soul into. And I choose to be a storyteller - in any form, in any way.
6. My life maybe a little fucked up but it is not hopeless.
7. I am blessed.
8. It is okay to take time to recover. I don't have to be so hard on myself. Life is not a sprint.
9. "Everyone needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else." - Richard Siken
10. Forgive. Exorcise every grudge that has taken residence in the recess of the heart as it will only make you diabetic to chances and opportunities to be happier.
11. Love. Always, all ways.
It feels so liberating to put these into writing. I am believing, more than ever, that brighter days are coming soon. I just gotta hold my head up high.
Friday, March 13, 2015
Impatience (or a strong desire to see you right now)
To you,
I really can't wait to meet you and fall in love again. It's 3:30 AM and I really should be sleeping but damn, I'm wide awake because the thought of holding your hand with my cold, clammy ones excite me. (I am sorry, I have poor blood circulation.) I can't wait to laugh and cry with you.
I can't wait to be with you.
I'm beyond ecstatic. My stomach is full of butterflies because envisioning how we will be together fuels me to go beyond and take risks. Right now, as I type this on my keyboard, I realize that I would like trace your cheek bones, the corners of your eyes, the tip of your nose, and the plumpness of your lips against my fingers for a long, long time. I might even want to kiss you, and explore the wonders of your soul until the sun awakes from his sleep. (Actually, I might never want to stop. I am full of greed when it comes to grasping every part of you.) I will not get bored. Even a bookish person who spends her Friday nights with words desires to be with someone she recognizes - she likes, she loves. Trust me, you are the end all and be all of all the heroes and the princes that I've read.
We won't be perfect. You and I will make mistakes. We will ride through bumps and rough patches that will make us want to stop the car. But I believe in you, in us. We will respect our boundaries, and understand our limitations. We will be off to the horizon even when Disney songs end, together. (I cannot tell you how much I love the sound of 'we' and 'together'. We. Together. We are together.)
I am so excited to love you deeply. (I just really can't wait to see you.)
I really can't wait to meet you and fall in love again. It's 3:30 AM and I really should be sleeping but damn, I'm wide awake because the thought of holding your hand with my cold, clammy ones excite me. (I am sorry, I have poor blood circulation.) I can't wait to laugh and cry with you.
I can't wait to be with you.
I'm beyond ecstatic. My stomach is full of butterflies because envisioning how we will be together fuels me to go beyond and take risks. Right now, as I type this on my keyboard, I realize that I would like trace your cheek bones, the corners of your eyes, the tip of your nose, and the plumpness of your lips against my fingers for a long, long time. I might even want to kiss you, and explore the wonders of your soul until the sun awakes from his sleep. (Actually, I might never want to stop. I am full of greed when it comes to grasping every part of you.) I will not get bored. Even a bookish person who spends her Friday nights with words desires to be with someone she recognizes - she likes, she loves. Trust me, you are the end all and be all of all the heroes and the princes that I've read.
We won't be perfect. You and I will make mistakes. We will ride through bumps and rough patches that will make us want to stop the car. But I believe in you, in us. We will respect our boundaries, and understand our limitations. We will be off to the horizon even when Disney songs end, together. (I cannot tell you how much I love the sound of 'we' and 'together'. We. Together. We are together.)
I am so excited to love you deeply. (I just really can't wait to see you.)
A new word
Apparently, there is a word for what I have been feeling:
nodus tollens
nodus tollens
n. the realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore—that although you thought you were following the arc of the story, you keep finding yourself immersed in passages you don’t understand, that don’t even seem to belong in the same genre—which requires you to go back and reread the chapters you had originally skimmed to get to the good parts, only to learn that all along you were supposed to choose your own adventure.
Oh will you look at that...Mr. Webster must have been feeling under the weather too when he recorded such a tragic word and description.
Episode 2: Minor in Rock Bottom
Today, I lost a baby.
(Not a literal one, but it was something I had been trying to /conceive/ the whole 2014. It was my minor in history.)
Getting that certificate was my only refuge, my ultimate sign, that I had been dreaming and walking along the right path - the path to teaching kids that they can overcome and actually use their histories to strengthen their present situations and talents. But I guess it was not meant to be. I guess I am really not meant to start my career journey as a public school teacher. Or maybe I am not ready yet.
Thinking about this in a different perspective, I guess I have so much to learn more about life before I even have the right to teach. I did read somewhere that a teacher also teaches how she deals with life to her students, besides the subject/course matter. I guess He is tempering me - with all these news and conditions that I am receiving. Admittedly, I am not at my best yet. I am not facing my problems and my struggles in the most proper way. I do feel that I am lost and confused. (Even MORE so, with the arrival of this news.)
Haha, honestly, it feels like I've been beaten black and blue, and the universe is not giving me the chance to fight back. Despite everything, I still believe that there is a reason why all of this is happening. I just have not uncovered it yet. (But I will! I promise you. *evil laugh*)
And now, I find myself simultaneously eating almond chocolates (Sorry doctors. I promise to be on the right track again after this night.), watching 'Starting Over Again', and writing this down.
Perhaps I have not lost my sanity even when I am at my rock bottom after all.
(Not a literal one, but it was something I had been trying to /conceive/ the whole 2014. It was my minor in history.)
Getting that certificate was my only refuge, my ultimate sign, that I had been dreaming and walking along the right path - the path to teaching kids that they can overcome and actually use their histories to strengthen their present situations and talents. But I guess it was not meant to be. I guess I am really not meant to start my career journey as a public school teacher. Or maybe I am not ready yet.
Thinking about this in a different perspective, I guess I have so much to learn more about life before I even have the right to teach. I did read somewhere that a teacher also teaches how she deals with life to her students, besides the subject/course matter. I guess He is tempering me - with all these news and conditions that I am receiving. Admittedly, I am not at my best yet. I am not facing my problems and my struggles in the most proper way. I do feel that I am lost and confused. (Even MORE so, with the arrival of this news.)
Haha, honestly, it feels like I've been beaten black and blue, and the universe is not giving me the chance to fight back. Despite everything, I still believe that there is a reason why all of this is happening. I just have not uncovered it yet. (But I will! I promise you. *evil laugh*)
And now, I find myself simultaneously eating almond chocolates (Sorry doctors. I promise to be on the right track again after this night.), watching 'Starting Over Again', and writing this down.
Perhaps I have not lost my sanity even when I am at my rock bottom after all.
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
Episode 1: Dazed and confused (again)
D, a close friend of mine, told me to write my musings and thoughts about how I cope with the clashes of my current health condition, my dreams, and my insecurities. She said I have interesting insights, and there might be people who can relate to what I am experiencing. As such, this post serves as my first entry to a series of random bursts of /angst/, realizations, and stories.
Long story short, feel free to read about a hormonal, lost, and self-deprecating twenty-year old. Don't say I did not warn you.
----
IT SUCKS.
Going to the hospital for tests and consultations again and again drained the butterflies out of my stomach. It sucks being in pain and itchy all the time, but what sucks more are the verdicts and the prescriptions given by the doctors. It annoys me to hear how my sickness limits me from eating chicken and preservatives, having frequent/prolonged exposure to water, and wearing shoes that are not made from cotton. It annoys me how I can't drink coffee nor consume chocolate whenever I want to without my chest and my stomach groaning in pain. It annoys me how my lungs and immune system seem to embrace all the flu and the viruses out there. It annoys me how my intestines seemed to want to poop all the blood it can poop. Most of all, it annoys the hell out of me that the implications of all the restrictions have such a big impact on how I should live my life, i.e.
I can't swim.
I can't do activities that will require me to get dirty.
I can't eat in just any restaurant/house/eating place.
If I overstepped on my restrictions, minor to major repercussions will happen. (And I don't want them to happen anymore.I hate seeing my family all bothered.)
And I know that despite all of these, I don't have the right to get angry or even whiny. (Though I sounded really whiny just now- I want to punch myself). This is nothing compared to the experiences of the braver and kinder souls of the kids I meet in the halls, fighting fiercer monsters. This is little compared to the grandpaps and grandmoms who cannot even breathe on their own without the help of the machines. This is just a tiny fraction of how those adults feel who had to leave their /normal/ life behind to be confined in those rows of hospital beds.
I have no right to be a baby about this. I know. I understand.
But sometimes, it's tiring. It's tiring to wake up everyday thinking, "Yes, I will live to the fullest today!", but then being reminded just a second later how /limited/ I am. It makes me angry. And hurt. And sad. Because this state did not just affected my lifestyle...it inadvertently affected my dreams, my hopes, my passion.
Do you know that I can't be a public school teacher anymore (Read this: Why I am fighting) - that I have to bury this dream and dug a grave in the deepest corners of my mind alongside the others?
Honestly, I don't know what to feel and how to process all of these. (That's why this post is a bit bipolar. I'm really sorry.) I feel lost and confused because I cannot express my resentment properly without sounding like a whiny bitch. I feel frustrated because I am so pissed at my illnesses and at myself. I'm irritated at the fact that I can't bring myself to talk about this whole thing to others.
I know I can't remain in this limbo. I have to move forward. I refuse to remain angry when I can do something productive and even positive. I have to find ways to make my 2050 goal happen!! Those art-lovin' kids deserve high-class training, exposure, and guidance from the best mentors at a low (FREE) price!!! :)
I guess, right now, I just have to know that somebody is willing to listen to me - crazy whines and all.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Last Piece
We tried. We talked. We used every bit of happy memory to lead our bare feet to meet in the middle of the wooden bridge. We walked our January afternoon away to retrieve the time lost when we erased our pencil marked faces from each other. We sang in the same tune when our post-college dreams collided. We laughed until our stomachs hurt when we discovered how similar we are.
I don't really understand why it's not working - why I dreaded every promise that escaped your lips, why I felt claustrophobic when you put your arms around me, and why I found myself disillusioned with your words. We did things together, after all. We were past the stage where I go to the nearest comfort zone at the mere glimpse of your shirt sleeves. I was finally facing you.
So why am I hurting again? Is it because I am tired of pumping myself to hope that I will fit the tiny space you allotted for my big curves and deepest crevices? Is it because of the countless times you left me hanging, even when you swore that you are a man of your word? Or is it because we were forcing each other to replicate the way things were, back when you can still afford to send me an original song composition to placate my hormone-driven heartbreak?
We were friends.
I don't really understand why it's not working - why I dreaded every promise that escaped your lips, why I felt claustrophobic when you put your arms around me, and why I found myself disillusioned with your words. We did things together, after all. We were past the stage where I go to the nearest comfort zone at the mere glimpse of your shirt sleeves. I was finally facing you.
So why am I hurting again? Is it because I am tired of pumping myself to hope that I will fit the tiny space you allotted for my big curves and deepest crevices? Is it because of the countless times you left me hanging, even when you swore that you are a man of your word? Or is it because we were forcing each other to replicate the way things were, back when you can still afford to send me an original song composition to placate my hormone-driven heartbreak?
We were friends.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Alms
Don't tell me I look fine
or pretty
or beautiful
I will only think that you are lying, patronizing, and worse
pitying me.
I. do. not. need. your. pity.
It is true.
I feel ugly and it's hard.
It is hard.
It is hard to fit into the spaces society tells me to shape myself into.
It is even harder to let you witness my struggle to become thinner, to make my skin smoother, to put make-up on my face
Because I have to harden my mask; I have to pretend I like the process.
I don't want you to see me like this -
plastic, insecure, and oversensitive girl with a low self-esteem to match
who bases beauty on the number of likes she gets from her facebook friends
who mentally takes note of the praises she receives
who ingests "fat", "chubby" and "dark" as far more offending than
"fuck", "shit", "asshole", and "bitch"
who is green with envy whenever she sees skinny models
who is basically brainwashed by the people around her to think that she is not enough.
But most of all,
I don't want you to stretch out your hands
when I start to beg for attention
for recognition
for love
Do not give me anything but truths and a reproach.
Tell me - this girl who needs to grow a backbone -
to learn how to swim and save herself
and start believing the numerous books she read
that she can be more than beautiful -
she can be extraordinary.
She is more than enough, always in all ways.
or pretty
or beautiful
I will only think that you are lying, patronizing, and worse
pitying me.
I. do. not. need. your. pity.
It is true.
I feel ugly and it's hard.
It is hard.
It is hard to fit into the spaces society tells me to shape myself into.
It is even harder to let you witness my struggle to become thinner, to make my skin smoother, to put make-up on my face
Because I have to harden my mask; I have to pretend I like the process.
I don't want you to see me like this -
plastic, insecure, and oversensitive girl with a low self-esteem to match
who bases beauty on the number of likes she gets from her facebook friends
who mentally takes note of the praises she receives
who ingests "fat", "chubby" and "dark" as far more offending than
"fuck", "shit", "asshole", and "bitch"
who is green with envy whenever she sees skinny models
who is basically brainwashed by the people around her to think that she is not enough.
But most of all,
I don't want you to stretch out your hands
when I start to beg for attention
for recognition
for love
Do not give me anything but truths and a reproach.
Tell me - this girl who needs to grow a backbone -
to learn how to swim and save herself
and start believing the numerous books she read
that she can be more than beautiful -
she can be extraordinary.
She is more than enough, always in all ways.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Spaces.
When I dance, I reveal a story, something intimate and primal within that words can never conquer. It maybe about a fleeting emotion - despair, rage, hope, serenity - or a lifetime's worth of history. All in a span of seconds or minutes, if I am lucky.
But the world is my stage. There is enough room for a girl who wants to fly to do her dance.
And so, as soon as the music starts, I feel. I move. I push, pull, bend, stretch, spin, jump - I fill the empty corners with tales, secrets, lies, and truths. The thin line between fiction and reality blurs. I portray a character, but I still remain. I give parts of myself with every flick and step.
So watch me, carefully, with your sparkling eyes and understand the narratives I express. Decipher that I am weaving a tale right now: Hi, I am Chel and I am letting you in.
And when my lighthouse flickers, I write letters.
I've never been good at farewells; I never handle them well. I write letters to express my regret of not being able to stay. I write to remember the memories and imagine the ones that I will miss out.
But the world is my stage. There is enough room for a girl who wants to fly to do her dance.
And so, as soon as the music starts, I feel. I move. I push, pull, bend, stretch, spin, jump - I fill the empty corners with tales, secrets, lies, and truths. The thin line between fiction and reality blurs. I portray a character, but I still remain. I give parts of myself with every flick and step.
So watch me, carefully, with your sparkling eyes and understand the narratives I express. Decipher that I am weaving a tale right now: Hi, I am Chel and I am letting you in.
-----
Sometimes, words are enough. This is when time produces an ocean between two people- that no matter how near they are, they still need a giant ship to connect their shores.
And when my lighthouse flickers, I write letters.
I've never been good at farewells; I never handle them well. I write letters to express my regret of not being able to stay. I write to remember the memories and imagine the ones that I will miss out.
I write letters for closure.
But dearest, I will not exorcise you - your scent, your form, your touch- from me. I am showing you how I am - how I function, how I live.
I am letting you in. I am staying.
I am letting you in. I am staying.
Saturday, July 19, 2014
Losing Grip
Pagod na ko. At patuloy akong napapagod.
Dumating na ko sa puntong iniiwasan ko na mag-area hangga't maari. Baka umiyak lang ako. Baka umiyak ako dahil sa sobrang pagod...dahil nawawala na ko. Hindi ako nawawala dahil hindi ko na alam kung bakit ko ito ginagawa. Hindi ako nawawala dahil literal na nawawala ako papuntang area.
Nawawala ako dahil unti-unti kong nabibitawan at binibitawan ang dahilan ko kung bakit ako tumaya at patuloy na nagtataya.
At lubusang nakahahabag dahil sa simula ng taon, ang dami kong plano. Ang saya ko. Takot ako pero handang-handa akong lumundag. Ngunit ngayon, gusto ko na lamang magtago sa kwarto ko at huwag ng lumabas pa. Gusto kong magpahinga pero ang daming boses - ang daming pangangailangan. Ang daming hinihiling sa kin. Isa lang ako - isa lang ang katawan, ang kaluluwa at ang puso ko. Pero sa tambak na kumento, suhestyon, kritiko, kalendaryo, plano, gawin natin ito Chel - hindi Chel ito - Chel, mag meeting tayo please.
TAMA NA.
Naririndi na ko. Nakakapagod makinig kung sabay-sabay na nagsasalita. Pakinggan niyo ang huni ng katahimikan ko. Kahit saglit. Kahit isang segundo lang. Kahit...kahit...
Gusto kong bumagon. Gusto kong lumaban. Pero ngayon, gusto ko munang magpahinga. Bigyan niyo ko ng panahon at ng espasyong...
Makapag-isa.
Makapag-isip.
Umiyak.
Dumating na ko sa puntong iniiwasan ko na mag-area hangga't maari. Baka umiyak lang ako. Baka umiyak ako dahil sa sobrang pagod...dahil nawawala na ko. Hindi ako nawawala dahil hindi ko na alam kung bakit ko ito ginagawa. Hindi ako nawawala dahil literal na nawawala ako papuntang area.
Nawawala ako dahil unti-unti kong nabibitawan at binibitawan ang dahilan ko kung bakit ako tumaya at patuloy na nagtataya.
At lubusang nakahahabag dahil sa simula ng taon, ang dami kong plano. Ang saya ko. Takot ako pero handang-handa akong lumundag. Ngunit ngayon, gusto ko na lamang magtago sa kwarto ko at huwag ng lumabas pa. Gusto kong magpahinga pero ang daming boses - ang daming pangangailangan. Ang daming hinihiling sa kin. Isa lang ako - isa lang ang katawan, ang kaluluwa at ang puso ko. Pero sa tambak na kumento, suhestyon, kritiko, kalendaryo, plano, gawin natin ito Chel - hindi Chel ito - Chel, mag meeting tayo please.
TAMA NA.
Naririndi na ko. Nakakapagod makinig kung sabay-sabay na nagsasalita. Pakinggan niyo ang huni ng katahimikan ko. Kahit saglit. Kahit isang segundo lang. Kahit...kahit...
Gusto kong bumagon. Gusto kong lumaban. Pero ngayon, gusto ko munang magpahinga. Bigyan niyo ko ng panahon at ng espasyong...
Makapag-isa.
Makapag-isip.
Umiyak.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Why I Am Waiting
To distract myself from being a full-fledged workaholic, I've been recently using my ask.fm account and letting anonymous persons know my views and opinions about life. I never really saw myself as the kind of lady who gets the admiration of men because I admit that I am prone to snubbing people and being such a sarcastic sass. As such, to my amusement, I got questions asking me about my “love life” – mostly inquiring if I am in a relationship and if not, why. I deflected by responding either with my bad jokes or poor attempts to redirect them to another topic because I do not know how to explain that I am waiting without resorting to being a cheeseball. But here I am, typing hotly and thoughts running wild, finally ready to let others digest a piece of my mozzarella brain (and heart).
I am waiting patiently. I believe in not rushing things, of letting others hold the end of the rope, and see if we fit. I believe in the principle of things falling into place because I acknowledge that my life is not solely shaped by my decisions, but also by the choices of the people around me. I am waiting because I believe that the process makes the end what it is – that the journey is the crowning glory of every beginning and end. Life is not a book that I can just flip its pages so I can know what comes out of it. It is a collection of anthologies, separate stories weaving and interconnecting themselves. I believe in savoring the creation and endurance of these ties.
Do not be mistaken. I am not passive. I believe in living life to the fullest and pushing myself outside my comfort zone. I believe in taking risks, and growing from experiences. I do not let chances and opportunities go unless they prove to be unwise. I am waiting actively.
But really, why do I wait?
I am waiting patiently and actively because I believe that I should not settle for anything less nor should my future partner settle for a lesser me. This is not to say that my past experiences are mistakes. They are, rather, the catalyst of my decision. When the time comes, I want to confidently embrace the fear and knowledge that yes, I will get hurt because of love but I will choose to love anyway. I want to love wholeheartedly with all the passion that I can give. I want to love maturely, knowing when to hold on and when to let things go. I want to love enthusiastically, bringing happiness and comfort when gloom decides to step in. I want to love steadfastly and grow with my person, constantly striving to be our better selves. I want to love and let him be proud that I am the one he is sharing his life with.
Waiting gets lonely and there are times I just want to post a wanted ad out of frustration. I get a little envious when I see my friends with their partners, facing life together. There are also moments wherein I wanted to erase my mini-collection of romantic comedy films because they idealize things too much. (Plus, instead of easing my despair, they intensify it because of their out-of-my-reach handsome leading men. Huhu hi Gene Kelly, Marlon Brando and Dmitri of Anastasia)
However, I know I will meet him in some way or another. I will meet him maybe in a coffee shop, at a bookstore or at my favorite pancake place. I will meet him perhaps when I least expect it or maybe, I already met him. Maybe I am at the preface.
All I know right now is that I am here waiting, secretly excited to love him always in all ways.
I am waiting patiently. I believe in not rushing things, of letting others hold the end of the rope, and see if we fit. I believe in the principle of things falling into place because I acknowledge that my life is not solely shaped by my decisions, but also by the choices of the people around me. I am waiting because I believe that the process makes the end what it is – that the journey is the crowning glory of every beginning and end. Life is not a book that I can just flip its pages so I can know what comes out of it. It is a collection of anthologies, separate stories weaving and interconnecting themselves. I believe in savoring the creation and endurance of these ties.
Do not be mistaken. I am not passive. I believe in living life to the fullest and pushing myself outside my comfort zone. I believe in taking risks, and growing from experiences. I do not let chances and opportunities go unless they prove to be unwise. I am waiting actively.
But really, why do I wait?
I am waiting patiently and actively because I believe that I should not settle for anything less nor should my future partner settle for a lesser me. This is not to say that my past experiences are mistakes. They are, rather, the catalyst of my decision. When the time comes, I want to confidently embrace the fear and knowledge that yes, I will get hurt because of love but I will choose to love anyway. I want to love wholeheartedly with all the passion that I can give. I want to love maturely, knowing when to hold on and when to let things go. I want to love enthusiastically, bringing happiness and comfort when gloom decides to step in. I want to love steadfastly and grow with my person, constantly striving to be our better selves. I want to love and let him be proud that I am the one he is sharing his life with.
Waiting gets lonely and there are times I just want to post a wanted ad out of frustration. I get a little envious when I see my friends with their partners, facing life together. There are also moments wherein I wanted to erase my mini-collection of romantic comedy films because they idealize things too much. (Plus, instead of easing my despair, they intensify it because of their out-of-my-reach handsome leading men. Huhu hi Gene Kelly, Marlon Brando and Dmitri of Anastasia)
However, I know I will meet him in some way or another. I will meet him maybe in a coffee shop, at a bookstore or at my favorite pancake place. I will meet him perhaps when I least expect it or maybe, I already met him. Maybe I am at the preface.
All I know right now is that I am here waiting, secretly excited to love him always in all ways.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Viewpoints
A/N: Written for a history class on April 22, 2013
On the 17th of October 1994 at exactly 6:50 am, a little babe wiggled her arms and did a little hurrah dance for successfully surviving the past eight months and seventeen days inside a warm, cocoon-like haven. Ever since she realized she has a brain (and thus, is capable of thinking), she has been imagining the world outside her mother’s womb. Meanwhile, at the same universe and time, a takatak boy gave the red Honda accord (with plate number TMA 741)’s driver the headlines of the day. He said, “Ser, sa Inquirer ho tungkol sa mga kidnaper sa Mindanao. Sa Bulletin naman, tungkol sa mga Arabo. Ano hong gusto niyo?” The balding, middle-aged driver wrinkled his nose, thought for a moment, and replied, “Pareho na lang. Mas gusto kasi ni Misis ang good news.” The boy gave him a toothy grin and held out the two newspapers in exchange for the nine pesos the older man was fishing in his pocket. After their small trade, the sound of takatak chirped again alongside shouts of “Sigarilyo, Dyaryo, Candy kayo diyan!”, the car engines revving up for the green light hummed, and the first cries of a little girl by the name of Chelsea Ericka were heard by the ears of the earth.
At least this make-believe narrative is more believable than my mother‘s story.
My Mama used to tell me that she gave birth to me on an early Sunday morning, with the birds and the flowers dancing merrily in celebration of my coming to the world. When I asked her recently on how the Philippines was on the day of her labour, she said that all she could remember was that the boy band sensation was spreading and the movie of Robin Padilla and Ruffa Gutierrez were highly-anticipated by their fans. She then dismissed me by asking me to just google if I want more information (to which I promptly responded that newspapers of my day are on microfilms, and not on webpages.).
Thanks to the ever-amazing Rizal Library, I found out that I wasn’t born on a bright, Sunday morning but on a Monday morning with a heavy atmosphere looming over the country. People were scared of the rebels in Mindanao because they abducted a total of a hundred and twenty-six (126) men and women within nine months. Fifteen of the victims were killed in Basilan by the infamous group, Abu Sayyaf, while thirty-seven were still missing and presumed dead. (Feliciano, 1994) Next day’s news were not any better. Interpol reported that a Chinese military camp was being used as a shabu factory for the “products” regularly smuggled into the Philippines. This was discovered for NBI had been observing a naval ship’s activity of transferring goods. The Chinese navy officials who were arrested denied the accusations; however, the evidences gathered were too strong. (Burgos,1994)
Saddened by the headlines wrote by the Philippine Daily Inquirer (PDI), I sought out a newspaper that would bring me good news. During my search of positive information, I suddenly remembered Manila Bulletin (MB)’s tagline of “There is good news here.” True enough, the headline on that fateful day of October was generally more cheerful than PDI’s. United Nations ordered the Iraqi military to step off the Kuwait boundaries and never return again. The world’s largest organization gathered the heads of states to find a way to resolve the situation between the two countries. They came up with a resolution that declared that countries, including Iraq, must recognize the Kuwait’s sovereignty. (Reuter, 1994) The 18th of October’s headline was even more promising as it expressed that our country was cited by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) for bringing the inflation down by 8.7%. Former President Ramos and the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas (BSP) also got commended by the organization. The Congress and Michel Camdessus, the visiting IMF official, both agreed that the simplification of tax base and the implementation of measures would continue the positive economic progress the country was experiencing. (Villa, 1994)
I don’t want to overanalyse and go all philosophical on the relevance of the headlines to my life yet; I cannot help but think of what my experience on hunting the news brought me. Reading the articles and processing all those names and events made me realize three things. First, I can look at life using two major points of view. I can live using lenses that would only make me see black and white, or I can paint the world with my palette of colours. I have the choice to create a fairy tale out of reality, or to let cynicism blur my dreams.
Second, the cycle of life is fleeting. Questions that I could not find the answers started popping into my mind. Who knows who died the exact minute I was born and who will be alive the exact moment I will sleep for eternity? Why did those innocent people have to die while their murderers live? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Why are those Chinese men wasting their precious time by destroying other peoples’ lives through shabu? Why can’t we live for the good things?
Lastly, it’s easy to dismiss other events when one cannot see how they connect to his life. But, as what our everyday interactions tell us, one’s actions can affect others. One’s story can be the happy ending of another. One’s words can bring meaning to another’s life. It never ceases to amaze me how all the people in this world are connected, but they continually snob each other and only care when death and other horrible things happen.
I’m glad I redid this birthday exercise because admittedly, my first paper wasn’t as fruitful as this. Maybe this is because I had more time to reflect and ponder on this assignment. Or maybe it was the timing. One little question though remains in my head as I am about to end this essay.
When will my life reach the headlines? (In my dreams.)
-----
Sources:
Burgos, R. (1994, October 18). Chinese military men smuggle shabu into rp. Philippine Daily Inquirer, pp. pp 1, 6.
Felicano , J. (1994, October 17). Kidnappers have grabbed 126 in mindanao since january. Philippine Daily Inquirer, pp. 1, 6.
Reuter. (1994, October 17). Un orders iraq troop pullback. Manila Bulletin, pp. 1, 8.
Villa, R. (1994, October 18). Imf official cites rp growth. Manila Bulletin, pp. 1,8.
On the 17th of October 1994 at exactly 6:50 am, a little babe wiggled her arms and did a little hurrah dance for successfully surviving the past eight months and seventeen days inside a warm, cocoon-like haven. Ever since she realized she has a brain (and thus, is capable of thinking), she has been imagining the world outside her mother’s womb. Meanwhile, at the same universe and time, a takatak boy gave the red Honda accord (with plate number TMA 741)’s driver the headlines of the day. He said, “Ser, sa Inquirer ho tungkol sa mga kidnaper sa Mindanao. Sa Bulletin naman, tungkol sa mga Arabo. Ano hong gusto niyo?” The balding, middle-aged driver wrinkled his nose, thought for a moment, and replied, “Pareho na lang. Mas gusto kasi ni Misis ang good news.” The boy gave him a toothy grin and held out the two newspapers in exchange for the nine pesos the older man was fishing in his pocket. After their small trade, the sound of takatak chirped again alongside shouts of “Sigarilyo, Dyaryo, Candy kayo diyan!”, the car engines revving up for the green light hummed, and the first cries of a little girl by the name of Chelsea Ericka were heard by the ears of the earth.
At least this make-believe narrative is more believable than my mother‘s story.
My Mama used to tell me that she gave birth to me on an early Sunday morning, with the birds and the flowers dancing merrily in celebration of my coming to the world. When I asked her recently on how the Philippines was on the day of her labour, she said that all she could remember was that the boy band sensation was spreading and the movie of Robin Padilla and Ruffa Gutierrez were highly-anticipated by their fans. She then dismissed me by asking me to just google if I want more information (to which I promptly responded that newspapers of my day are on microfilms, and not on webpages.).
Thanks to the ever-amazing Rizal Library, I found out that I wasn’t born on a bright, Sunday morning but on a Monday morning with a heavy atmosphere looming over the country. People were scared of the rebels in Mindanao because they abducted a total of a hundred and twenty-six (126) men and women within nine months. Fifteen of the victims were killed in Basilan by the infamous group, Abu Sayyaf, while thirty-seven were still missing and presumed dead. (Feliciano, 1994) Next day’s news were not any better. Interpol reported that a Chinese military camp was being used as a shabu factory for the “products” regularly smuggled into the Philippines. This was discovered for NBI had been observing a naval ship’s activity of transferring goods. The Chinese navy officials who were arrested denied the accusations; however, the evidences gathered were too strong. (Burgos,1994)
Saddened by the headlines wrote by the Philippine Daily Inquirer (PDI), I sought out a newspaper that would bring me good news. During my search of positive information, I suddenly remembered Manila Bulletin (MB)’s tagline of “There is good news here.” True enough, the headline on that fateful day of October was generally more cheerful than PDI’s. United Nations ordered the Iraqi military to step off the Kuwait boundaries and never return again. The world’s largest organization gathered the heads of states to find a way to resolve the situation between the two countries. They came up with a resolution that declared that countries, including Iraq, must recognize the Kuwait’s sovereignty. (Reuter, 1994) The 18th of October’s headline was even more promising as it expressed that our country was cited by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) for bringing the inflation down by 8.7%. Former President Ramos and the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas (BSP) also got commended by the organization. The Congress and Michel Camdessus, the visiting IMF official, both agreed that the simplification of tax base and the implementation of measures would continue the positive economic progress the country was experiencing. (Villa, 1994)
I don’t want to overanalyse and go all philosophical on the relevance of the headlines to my life yet; I cannot help but think of what my experience on hunting the news brought me. Reading the articles and processing all those names and events made me realize three things. First, I can look at life using two major points of view. I can live using lenses that would only make me see black and white, or I can paint the world with my palette of colours. I have the choice to create a fairy tale out of reality, or to let cynicism blur my dreams.
Second, the cycle of life is fleeting. Questions that I could not find the answers started popping into my mind. Who knows who died the exact minute I was born and who will be alive the exact moment I will sleep for eternity? Why did those innocent people have to die while their murderers live? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Why are those Chinese men wasting their precious time by destroying other peoples’ lives through shabu? Why can’t we live for the good things?
Lastly, it’s easy to dismiss other events when one cannot see how they connect to his life. But, as what our everyday interactions tell us, one’s actions can affect others. One’s story can be the happy ending of another. One’s words can bring meaning to another’s life. It never ceases to amaze me how all the people in this world are connected, but they continually snob each other and only care when death and other horrible things happen.
I’m glad I redid this birthday exercise because admittedly, my first paper wasn’t as fruitful as this. Maybe this is because I had more time to reflect and ponder on this assignment. Or maybe it was the timing. One little question though remains in my head as I am about to end this essay.
When will my life reach the headlines? (In my dreams.)
-----
Sources:
Burgos, R. (1994, October 18). Chinese military men smuggle shabu into rp. Philippine Daily Inquirer, pp. pp 1, 6.
Felicano , J. (1994, October 17). Kidnappers have grabbed 126 in mindanao since january. Philippine Daily Inquirer, pp. 1, 6.
Reuter. (1994, October 17). Un orders iraq troop pullback. Manila Bulletin, pp. 1, 8.
Villa, R. (1994, October 18). Imf official cites rp growth. Manila Bulletin, pp. 1,8.
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