yabs

(Happened on a Wednesday)

As I sat there drinking my beverage of choice distanced from the crowd. Enjoying the mix of 80's and 90's music. I smiled as I said to myself "This is relaxing!" The patrons swaying, jumping and laughing in rhythmic pleasure. I could not help but feel at peace in this, my unlikely form of refuge. Where all the sights and sounds meld into one single sensation.

"Hey Mr. Young!" I heard almost like a whisper. "Mr. Young!" I heard again. "Hey!" as a hand grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into the dance floor. I looked confused, disoriented by the swarm of happy faces, hands of men and women patting me on the shoulder. I was given a drink and out of respect I sipped from it. Though I was picky and very specific of what I drink, I was lost in this confusion of people who were seemingly happy to see me. One of them stepped forward and declared "I know you!" without doubt nor hesitation. "You're Mr. Young from SLU!"

I gave her a look and gave her group the "once around"... I bowed and then smiled. She immediately put her arms around me, too close for my taste, and shrieked "Picture! Picture!" A multitude of flashes came almost simultaneously blinding me momentarily as I once again heard "Uy! Si Mr. Young pala yun..." (Hey! It's Mr. Young) It irritated me slightly that I was being referred to using a name not my own. In the classic "Yabs" style I began to formulate a very clear and straightforward response to these clueless people. Ensuring their embarrassment with the words that were ready to roll off my tongue.

I paused. Closed my eyes for a moment and discarded the words I had prepared. Who cares if this group refers to me by the name of a once significant other? What's in a name? This one group is but a small fraction of the people who I interact with. People who know me by so many names except the real one. My real name that I chose to withhold even in my articles and photos.

These people were happy to see me. So much so that they had to include me in their celebration, buy me a drink and introduce me to their peers. I smiled at them and said, "Sorry but I'm not Mr. Young. You're thinking of Ms. Young. Just call me Yabs." Then I politely bowed, had the waiter give them a round and stepped out for some air. I sat down and the girl who called me Mr. Young sat beside me, “Not Mr. Young anymore?" she asked. I answered "Not for a long time." She leaned on me, closed her eyes and said "Finally..."

The question isn't "What's in a name?" it's "What's in a wrong name?"

yabs

If I lost the ability to write
It would be darker than Blindness,
Beyond the eerie silence of being deaf
More speechless than being mute

Likened to the inability to smell
To taste the wondrous
To have a hunger that cannot be filled
To be afraid of the safest things

I would refuse to walk
Not knowing what lay beneath my feet
Afraid to breathe
Uncertain if the air was tainted

Oblivious to the laughter around me
Unsure if when I cry, people will see
That when I beat my fists on the wall
Names are thrown at me

When I kneel to pray
Unsure if I am staring at the heavens
As I take a drink
Unsure if it is water or my tears

Let me write with all my senses
With all my dreams in plain view
Unobstructed by the fear of the unknown
Yet fascinated by its existence

yabs

(this was something I wrote for the Local Paper that got published Thursday August 8, 2009. ONLINE COPY: http://www3.sunstar.com.ph/baguio/cory-aquino-author-my-childhood)

I remember the Aquino days from when I was significantly younger. With the news of her demise I was taken back to those memories, where politics was not even part of my vocabulary yet. It was eye-opening to realize that for a child such as myself, politics had such a profound effect in the way I grew up though I may not have been conscious of that fact back then.

Being a Baguio-Boy who, since childhood, hated traveling, I gained my knowledge from the television, the passionate patriots of this city and from ardent discussions I heard from the gin-lovers at almost every sari-sari store. Who was I to care about these things? I was a child. My world revolved around toys and escaping from my afternoon nap. At the age of 5, what would I have been able to absorb even if I had the honor of meeting her or if I was actually there in person to support her?

Clueless as I was about the inner machinations of the government, of the concept of democracy and politics, I was inescapably drawn in by the joy of others at the dream of freedom. I ran in the streets yelling "Cory! Cory!" almost daily, holding up my hand with the thumb and index pointing out, often times singing my own ear-splitting rendition of "Magkaisa" at the top of my lungs. “For what?” I was asked by passers-by who seemed irritated, assuming that my actions were unsupported by actual knowledge. As a child I answered as-a-matter-of-factly, "For freedom, for justice and because it made people happy!" Yes, the overwhelming joy of the liberated was so obvious and infectious that I took notice.

That was it. Words and credence from my childhood that were seared into my vocabulary, and ultimately, into my core beliefs. Did I understand it then? Probably not completely. I may have simplified the idea based on my ability to comprehend. But beyond the naiveté of my intellectual infancy from years ago, I am thankful for the freedom I was born into by the actions of the late president and the caterwauling masses clamoring for justice in Edsa. The brave and the bold of the Philippines.

I dare not go into further detail about her (Pres. Aquino’s) accomplishments for the fear of losing a certain degree of eloquence and to ensure that celebrating her life in this world will not be another retelling of the past in bits and pieces. Tributes that sprout here and there as expected, about Edsa, the charismatic Ninoy, the constitution, various reforms and the like. Television, Google results, Wikipedia and newspaper articles already recounted these things for me. Rather I write about my memories of “Tita Cory” as one of the millions who were liberated “in-proxy” by someone I never met. While I was making gumamela-based bubbles and enjoying my childhood, she was fighting the good fight (for me and for the country).

For a lowly individual like me, her demise trumped all other deaths of recent times not because of her notoriety or her unique charm, but because of what she stood for (and fought for); Love, Liberty and Faith. Her profound effect on me even as a carefree child never faded just as she would never be forgotten. She proved that "people power" can be sparked by individual will. Thanks to her I realized early, that a single person such as myself should never feel insignificant. And as angels guide her to her rest we mourn this loss and yet rejoice in her legacy; A legacy that continues in her children and in the hearts and minds of every Filipino. Maria Corazon "Cory" Sumulong Cojuangco Aquino, The contributor to my ideals and the author of my first lesson in freedom.

yabs

Sabi ng guro habang tumatawa "Kapag na-tuwa ka sa mali, hindi ka mali. Tanga ka lang." Sabi ng estudyante "Mali ka ma'am..."

Sabi ng ate "Kung talagang mas alam mo kesa sa akin, e di ikaw gumawa." Sabi ng bunso "Sayo pina-gawa e..."

Sabi ng nanay "Kung maibibigay ko lang sayo ang lahat, noon ko pa binigay!" Sabi ng anak "Kung ginusto ko ang lahat, noon ko pa hiningi."

Sabi ng boss ko "Masyado kang madaming tanong! Magtiwala ka sakin!" Sabi ko "Hindi ako magtitiwala sa taong hindi kayang sumagot..."

Sabi ng kaibigan ko "Full moon ba?" Sabi ng asawa niya "Bakit ano ba nararamdaman mo?"

Sabi ng customer "Ser, may posporo ba kayo? May naipit sa ngipin ko e." Sabi ng waiter "Wala po kaming posporo, pero eto po ang lighter."

Sabi ni Bogart "Bakla ka yata e!" Sabi ni George "Hindi ka sigurado? Naku delikado ka."

Sabi ng babae "I'm 6 months pregnant..." Sabi ng lalaki "Sigurado ka?"

Sabi ni Miss Beautiful "Hindi kita type!" Sabi ng manliligaw "Hindi ko kasalanan yun!"

Sabi ni sosyal "Hoy, hindi ako ma-feeling!" Sabi ni jologs "Feeling mo lang yun!"

Sabi ni siga "Kilala mo ba kung sino ako?!" Sabi ni kumpare "Hindi mo rin alam?"

Sabi ng nanonood "Shhhh! Nagbayad kami!" Sabi ng madaldal "Magbayad ka ulit!"

Sabi ng worker "Ang hirap ng trabaho!" Sabi ng unemployed "Palit tayo?"

yabs

If I write and it contains
Nothing more than contradictions
Of views I stood firm on
And ideals I believe in

Does that make me wrong?
Is it pure hypocrisy?

To jump to the other side
For a minute or more
To speak in confidence
To be part of the masses

Joining them once
To feel what they do

But eventually return
To my opinionated existence
That neither mock
Nor force my ideals on others

Smarter by virtue of experience
Through the heart of the collective

What a wonderful gift
To know both sides
And yet stand amid all
Matured and weathered by comprehension

yabs

As I walked the busy streets
I took heed in the knowledge
That the world is oblivious
Of the turmoil of an individual

I proceeded with my life
In utter confusion
An internal conflict of who I was
And who they wanted me to be

I thrive in expression
But die as I remain myself
While those around me
Bleed due to my personality

Why is it wrong
To be different
To have a contrasting opinion
To believe in contradiction

It hurts so much
To know they didn't fail to see
But rather chose not to look
While the world took advantage