Sunday, August 18, 2013

Hashtag Selfie

 #selfie
Got bored waiting
Instagram waiting 
Camera ready (which means 
Curled eyelashes
Perfectly drawn eyeliner
Blushed cheeks
And rich lips courtesy of Ever Bilena
Never forget oiliness is next to ugliness
Sometimes poverty)

Slide to unlock
Press Camera by the tip of your thumb
Start to find the light 
While finding that perfect angle where you look like you shed some weight
Or mastering the killer smile, that same smile that hit 20 likes the last time
10 clicks and still not satisfied 
Don't feel like smiling this time 
Change angle
Some hair around face perhaps get messy a little bit 
Seduce that small hole 
Or look fiercely at the face you love the most 
Never forget how lip biting can go a long way
Or the practiced pout 
10 clicks and still not satisfied
Change to duck face or stick out your tongue a little 
While staring at your nose's tip
So you look cutesy trying to be hilarious
After 10 clicks and if you're
more hilarious than cute 
Definitely unsatisfied
50 photos took in 3 minutes 
Start deleting it one by one 
Until you reach the final 16 narrows down to 8 to 4
Torn between photo 1 and 2
Finally, 1. 
Camera 360 
Open in 
Instagram uploading 
Not bored waiting 
For Likes. 



Wednesday, August 14, 2013

"As she grew older, she would learn about the deep intricacies of human relationships: the little everyday disappointments, the constant battle between forgiveness and giving up, the many, many shades of grey, the hate that grows and grows at the slightest prodding, and all the compromises you have to make for the people you love and the people who love you"

Monday, August 12, 2013

Marla Miniano, From This Day Forward


Telegram from my Papa to Mama dated 1980 

“Did I ever tell you that my mother and father started out as pen pals? They wrote these long, unabashedly affectionate love letters to one another, peppered with clichés and pie-in-the-sky proclamations of eternal devotion. Despite my father’s eventual dishonesty and unfaithfulness, I have to believe he meant every word he wrote at that time, and it was admittedly romantic, uncovering my parents’ yellowed letters, all soft, crumbling corners and black ink stains, one rainy afternoon. Because how can anyone scrawl lies, really, in their own handwriting, the evidence of your own betrayal right in front of you? I sat cross-legged on the floor, holding my breath as I unfolded each letter, fragile and expectant, like a little girl opening her presents on Christmas morning. I sat there and soaked up my parents’ love for each other, and then I wondered where all those feelings had escaped to. I wondered where love went when it was lost—did it travel far, across miles and oceans and forests and deserts, or did it linger somewhere nearby, just waiting for a chance to be summoned again? Wherever it was, I could only hope it had ended up settling somewhere quieter, safer.” 


His first notes, May 2013 


Dear Marla, 
I am looking forward to seeing you and have you signed your book for me. See you on the 20th then? NBS Glorietta1, 5pm it is! 

Big fan here, 
Mae Ann 
PS. There are a lot of people who inspire me but only few get to touch my heart and make me feel this close to writing. Here's to you who makes me want to write more. 

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Hot Gone Cold



My tongue has high tolerance to your hot freshly brewed lies. 
I sip only the truth.

KaffeeKlatsch, Baguio/ July13

Sunday, August 4, 2013

Because I Am Lazy

"Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make the soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can, and you will get an enormous reward. You will have created something. "

Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without A Country

Dear You (who is like me who's too lazy to write), 

Okay, so I read another article about writing something, anything no matter how mediocre it may be. Of course, I would like to write, if given the chance. I always say that my writing always comes when pressured that I even thought of quitting my current job to find place for my pen and paper. 

Right after college, I thought I wanted to be a lawyer but landed a job on an academe. It went on for a year, not writing anything, just reading for my students' sake. I thought I should take my writing into hibernation since I had too much of it on my last year, completing thesis, at the University. While my other friends from my course went on to become content writers while some pursued law, and others found joy in the academe while I chose to leave it and considered growing myself, personally and professionally, in a world far from the shadows of literature, so I decided to try and luckily got accepted in the aviation where reading and writing became places to go and people to meet. Though I still picked up few reads from time to time, I completely stopped writing. One thing about going away from it was because I am very, very seriously deeply insecure (about my writing). Back during University days, my block mates, used to be the EICs of their school paper, joined National Schools Press Conference and spotted a place, or their hobbies include reading and writing while I chose pigging out and do make up with friends, and escape every possible practice for First Friday Mass and Graduation. So meeting them and getting to know each of them as they became my friends, who were so helpful on all my writing exercises ( so a big thank you to them),  well, I made it through college. They say, that in a sea of being in a State U, being surrounded with these kind of people, you either swim with the waves or let yourself be drowned. I might have chosen the latter. 

It was my insecurity that I carried on even after college that made me turn my back to writing. But I guess, as much I would like to run away from it, I still have not forgotten about it completely. Perhaps, it was like a love that grew in me every single day since day one of the five years that I have spent writing and reading. Like one of the Filipino Poets in English said, (was it Gemino Abad? I am not sure) referring to writing a poem, "you can choose to stop as long as you don't forget about it entirely and return to it as soon as possible." I have dreams of it, most of the time it comes to me as it usually comes during the time I was still writing, in the most unlikely places, like during ground stops and take offs and landings. It comes when I am not drunk of emotions. I write when I separate myself to it, taking a step back to see the bigger picture. 

I have no excuse to this, I am lazy. I have been lazy writing down my thoughts. In fact, writing this, took me 3 days (hopefully I get to finish this today) to finish. There are tons of drafts in my blog dashboard, unfinished notes on my phone and outdated journals. And I wonder how ironic it is that I have been bailing out to write  while getting inspired by a good read. I have time in my hands but I always choose to do other things than pick up a pen and paper, and in this case, this ipad. 

I have always wanted to write whenever I am ambushed by inspiration, but it's like I always find a way to break away from it. It scares me, I guess. It scares me that I have not invested on books when I first knew how to read, that I have limited vocabulary today. It's scares me that, you who's reading this, expects too much from me knowing that I finished a creative writing course. It scares me to be always compared to  which I freakin' hate the most.

And why I'm writing  this now? I write merely to complete this 500-word challenge. Maybe this is also the best way to confront all the things that have been haunting me, by putting it into words to which I find it to be the only cure--- to write more. I don't care that my subject and verb don't agree, or I write non-sense, or I write for myself alone. I am very sure I am not the only one in this world who is struggling into writing and finding a place into oceans of different genres of literature. So to you, who is just like me, I say, write more. Anything. Write about the places you've been; find art in the bathroom or under the sheets. Write about yourself, your top tens,  your first kiss, your recent heartbreak and find humor in it. 

Write. I promise I will, too. 

Xoxo,
Mae Ann