As I am now a freelance writer, I find keeping friends very difficult to do. I have to exert extra effort to see, talk and be with them for a cup of tea. But it is always a great experience once I am able to connect with them. E. has been myf riend since the 80's. We met at Nairobi, where she was photographing many Filipino women, one of whom was Carlita Doran, the inventress. The latter was putting up her inventions on a small hill and showcasing her solid alcogas which is used for lighting up fondue. Today, Carlita is exporting many of her inventions and is living a fine life.
E and I bcame deeper friends as she became my editor for many articles of mine which I wrote for an Asian news syndicate. Unfortunately, as contributor, I never received any other benefits after writing for so many years, except the fees per article. Yet, my writings were farmed out in the regional newspapers. Worse yet, a leading newspaper in the Philippines would even delete my name and just publish the article without any byline, just the name of the syndicate, a case of jealousy of the editor-in-chief I guess. Another friend D., told me that the ed was jealous of me because my writings were popularly read. Anyway, I was not asking for popularity, never at all until now. To me writing is a duty, an obligation. I prefer being known as a filmmaker, not as a writer.
E and I are still friends and she has retired as a writer, or probably does some other editing stuff now and then. We have tea or coffee in Makati now and then just to update ourselves of our lives.
Another friend was D, also a writer. I had tea with him once. When it was my turn to treat him, he was either too busy, sick, or I was already out of the environment he was in. Anyway, we kept in touch through text messaging. Talking with him is being intellectually stuffy. And I got to write an article well because of his inputs, as the article landed on the front pages of a newspaper. But you know what? His last text to me was very bad. So I did not answer it. He wrote something about being frigid. What? Just because I would not sleep with him or maybe I was too unreceptive to his overtures, then he would hint at my being frigid?
Well, I just kept silent because as far as I am concerned, sexuality is a personal matter and that being intimate with a person is not a fastfood type of activity. Ha ha! Goodness, here in the Philippines, sometimes I seem to get the message that for me to be able to get a favor, I have to come with the package. Yikes! Anyway, I lost D as a fiend already, oops, friend. I don't really fancy dealing with people who are using their writings for hitting at their friends, underhandedly. He should just have come up front and told me what he wants. And maybe I would have said...No, thanks.
Well, another friend I had or probably still has is L. He is a corporate guy, who is very cool. But his world is very narrow and I think he wants me to revolve around his work environment. Now as I am in the middle of helping put up a political party, I don't really find it practical to be involved in his milieu, although the work would be very easy to do. I think I lost him partially because of my refusal.
He is nice and he reminds me of a friend I had in London, very prim and proper, and who is calculating of his moves, but terribly, terribly busy, as in BUSY. But actually, it was just a ruse. He did not fancy being over friendly with someone who would leave his country later on.
Well, friends are nice at particular periods of one's life. They perk up the dull periods, and inspire you to live from day to day. I guess I have to know first what I want in a friend, before I take on another one.
What do you think? I will dream on that.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Being Creative
Creating a political party is very engaging. all that I do is get in touch with people, talk and talk, then review what we talked about, jot down notes, plan for next moves.
It's far different from creating a film. With filmmaking, my mind goes broad, goes deep, rixe to high heavens, and descend to the depths of the ocean. It is mind-blowing. Yet, if I make a political film, then it becomes doubly mind-boggling. I have to think of how to symbolize all those politcial principles that I know.
When living in a country that always makes eating a precious act, that reading and writing seem useless because one has to earn a living in order to eat, that makes having children a very expensive preoccupation, then being creative becomes a real luxury. It is a luxury when it is not directed to authorities who could change the status quo. It is a luxury when the content and form are not understandable as expressions of angst, of anger, of pain and disgust over the state of things.
Could anyone sustain one's idealism in the face of these events occurring now in my country, the long queues of families for rice at barangay halls; the despairing looks of jeepney drivers who can hardly buy fuel to drive their vehicles while having to shell out cash to policemen just standing by and waiting for the kotong to be placed on their palms by their gofers; the media barrage of scandals unearthed daily running into hundreds of millions of pesos going into the pockets of highest officials of the land. Is there no end to these evil acts in our midst? And worse that, the military soldiers who rebelled against election cheating are meted harsh punishments.
Pray that executive privilege is given a negative rating by Supreme Court justices as no unethical presidential and governmental practices should ever be allowed exist in the country.
No, we should not lose our dreams of a better country, a better world. We should not lose our dreams of having a nurturing society. We at PPP will have our slogan: If we rule this country, no infant, no child shall get sick, go hungry, be out of school, and most of all die. No, no one.
It's far different from creating a film. With filmmaking, my mind goes broad, goes deep, rixe to high heavens, and descend to the depths of the ocean. It is mind-blowing. Yet, if I make a political film, then it becomes doubly mind-boggling. I have to think of how to symbolize all those politcial principles that I know.
When living in a country that always makes eating a precious act, that reading and writing seem useless because one has to earn a living in order to eat, that makes having children a very expensive preoccupation, then being creative becomes a real luxury. It is a luxury when it is not directed to authorities who could change the status quo. It is a luxury when the content and form are not understandable as expressions of angst, of anger, of pain and disgust over the state of things.
Could anyone sustain one's idealism in the face of these events occurring now in my country, the long queues of families for rice at barangay halls; the despairing looks of jeepney drivers who can hardly buy fuel to drive their vehicles while having to shell out cash to policemen just standing by and waiting for the kotong to be placed on their palms by their gofers; the media barrage of scandals unearthed daily running into hundreds of millions of pesos going into the pockets of highest officials of the land. Is there no end to these evil acts in our midst? And worse that, the military soldiers who rebelled against election cheating are meted harsh punishments.
Pray that executive privilege is given a negative rating by Supreme Court justices as no unethical presidential and governmental practices should ever be allowed exist in the country.
No, we should not lose our dreams of a better country, a better world. We should not lose our dreams of having a nurturing society. We at PPP will have our slogan: If we rule this country, no infant, no child shall get sick, go hungry, be out of school, and most of all die. No, no one.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Escape through French
I am so glad to have found my blog again. I miss writing on it for months. My mind has been shifting from life on earth and the afterlife where my mother has gone, and my stepfather too. It's emotionally draining and sometimes or most of the time I have to contain myself so as not to feel depressed the whole day.
What is the importance of blogging in my country the Philippiens? It is a space for release of our angst over rising prices of rice, over kotongan of police from Recto to Divisoria; celfone calls that drop or get cut off because the person I am calling up is a community leader in Smokey Mountain, and that would mean a "subversive" activity, etc. etc.
Is there a perfect country Folks? It is true people say everywhere there are problems. So what do I do now? I am learning how to speak and write French by myself. I've got three books -- one for lessons; another for verb conjugation and third, a dic. wow, every morning and before retiring I look them up. I have even written some quotations for me to remember and read while lying on my bed like Comment da nouveau or what's new, and Quel dommage or what a pity. Do you know that i could also compose a sentence like Je ne vous saime. Now guess what that means. Of course you must have heard of that cuss word which begins with M, which I use for asking a friend in absencia, Combien epause? Une, deux, trois, quatre, MMMMMM.
When I go to my French lessons, I cannot help but remember the Fall of Bastille. Memories of my trip to Paris, France way back in 1981 come rushing, when I spent the 14th of July there. On that day, I wanted to drink a bottle of beer in a restaurant fronting the sculpture of the Bastille in the city. But a bottle cost more if drank there about 14 francs, whereas drank outside it would only cost 9 francs. What did I do? Guess. Well I bought one and then sat by a bench beside the sculpture and drank it to my heart's content, remembering Victor Hugo's Les Miserables and the Jean Paul Marat in the Persecution and Assassination of Jean Paul Marat as performed by the Inmates of Charenton under the Direction of the Marquis de Sade, a play by Peter Brooks. Then I also remembered Claude Debussy and Claire de la Lune and La Mer.
Images of Jean Cocteau, Jean Genet and Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir parade in my mind. Feminisme Francaise. How many other intellectuals do I feel happy about remembering?
But as my mind went back to the Philippines then, which was under martial law, the perpetual rule of the Marcoses, I felt depressed again. But did not feel that so much because beer has a way of easing up the nerves. And so I laughed and laughed for my presence then in Europe and having that freedom to experience thinking, speaking and writing freely in the democratic continent, albeit half aristocratic in culture.
Vive Le France! Vive les Philippines!
What is the importance of blogging in my country the Philippiens? It is a space for release of our angst over rising prices of rice, over kotongan of police from Recto to Divisoria; celfone calls that drop or get cut off because the person I am calling up is a community leader in Smokey Mountain, and that would mean a "subversive" activity, etc. etc.
Is there a perfect country Folks? It is true people say everywhere there are problems. So what do I do now? I am learning how to speak and write French by myself. I've got three books -- one for lessons; another for verb conjugation and third, a dic. wow, every morning and before retiring I look them up. I have even written some quotations for me to remember and read while lying on my bed like Comment da nouveau or what's new, and Quel dommage or what a pity. Do you know that i could also compose a sentence like Je ne vous saime. Now guess what that means. Of course you must have heard of that cuss word which begins with M, which I use for asking a friend in absencia, Combien epause? Une, deux, trois, quatre, MMMMMM.
When I go to my French lessons, I cannot help but remember the Fall of Bastille. Memories of my trip to Paris, France way back in 1981 come rushing, when I spent the 14th of July there. On that day, I wanted to drink a bottle of beer in a restaurant fronting the sculpture of the Bastille in the city. But a bottle cost more if drank there about 14 francs, whereas drank outside it would only cost 9 francs. What did I do? Guess. Well I bought one and then sat by a bench beside the sculpture and drank it to my heart's content, remembering Victor Hugo's Les Miserables and the Jean Paul Marat in the Persecution and Assassination of Jean Paul Marat as performed by the Inmates of Charenton under the Direction of the Marquis de Sade, a play by Peter Brooks. Then I also remembered Claude Debussy and Claire de la Lune and La Mer.
Images of Jean Cocteau, Jean Genet and Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir parade in my mind. Feminisme Francaise. How many other intellectuals do I feel happy about remembering?
But as my mind went back to the Philippines then, which was under martial law, the perpetual rule of the Marcoses, I felt depressed again. But did not feel that so much because beer has a way of easing up the nerves. And so I laughed and laughed for my presence then in Europe and having that freedom to experience thinking, speaking and writing freely in the democratic continent, albeit half aristocratic in culture.
Vive Le France! Vive les Philippines!
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