My Penguin

I know so little of you
yet I am captivated...
by the way your chinky eyes smile
your voiceless laughter that lingers for a while.
Your affinity for music expressed
in perfectly woven tunes you usually suppress.
The way you speak captures my attention,
each word you utter makes me want to listen.
Absorbed in your random moments of solitude,
contained in thought, no one has a clue.
A weathered juvenile you seem at times,
with resilient innocence, you face life...


I wasn't looking but I found you
I wasn't supposed to but you happened.
The rare times I get to see you
cherished and kept away in a vault of happiness
To risk is not my character
but for you I shall consider.
o me, you're fagile and delicate,
I could only wish I can protect


I know so little of you
and I dream to know more
Though circumstances beg to differ
please know that I'm here,
waiting in the wings
until I hear you calling


Though I know so little of you
"I like you..."
this much I know is true

Full Circle (part 3)

I decided to go out of town for the next few days. Since Chris and my buddies will be working during the week, I took the time off to be by myself. I rented a Toyota Corolla Altis and randomly drove to the beach. The four walls of my suite had become too confining. I've almost memorized each speck of dust in the room. So I brought along a backpack and chose to experience the great outdoors of my beloved country.

I almost forgot how wonderful the Philippines is. Despite its widespread of poverty and excruciating heat, there's no place like home. Moving to the States was never a personal choice, nor was I forced against my will. I kind of understood where my parents where coming from. And I love them enough to come with. Just like any Filipino family abroad, my parents saw America as a land of opportunities--a chance to better our lives. We were just an average family though--not entirely financially challenged. My dad managed a restaurant his family had owned. My grandfather treated Sam's Place as one of his children. And when it was time for dad to take over, he did the same. My mother, on the other hand, was head nurse at the local hospital. You know where this is going. Immediate hiring of Filipino nurses for international hospitals became my mom's ticket to the U.S. A few months later, my dad and sister Jenny, followed. I had to stay one more year to finish my degree and get my license. We settled in pretty quickly. My family is based in New Jersey. Mom still practices nursing at Greenville Hospital, while my dad is involved with business plans of relocating Sam's Place in West Side Avenue. Side by side, they continue taking care of Jenny, who is in her senior year in New Jersey City University taking up multicultural studies. I would visit them during the weekends as we have our regular family dinner, with my mom heading the kitchen. She would serve traditional Filipino dishes to keep us grounded on our roots. She makes the meanest pork adobo by the way--tender, succulent meat packed with the perfect balance of soy sauce and vinegar. We were nothing less than a happy family living in an urban neighborhood abroad. But this...I thought as the soft summer breeze brushed through my skin... Nothing ever beats the fresh air of your own country intoxicating your lungs.There's definitely no place like home.

My gaze turned to scan the sea. No waves today. Perfect and still as a painting. A flock of birds flew overhead, exploring the vast skies. I took a walk by the shore, letting the sand grab imprints of my feet. I found a half-buried tree stump to sit on. The beach was almost deserted. It was just me, a boy flying his kite, and a couple. The guy had his arm wrapped around the girl, while she rested her head on his shoulder. They were engaged in a conversation. Probably appreciating the scene as much as I was. I can tell they were in love. The guy offered his hand for her to hold and headed back to the cabins. Their image triggered a memory of me and my girlfriend in college. Yes, I did fall in love again. Abby and I were classmates in an English class. We were together for a year and eight months, almost nine. Not to compare but she was a lot like Trish. Laid-back, simple, funny. They even have this way of tying their hair up in a sloppy ponytail. But in no way did I treat her as a substitute for Trish. I loved Abby for her. I loved her eloquence, her quirkiness, how she makes me laugh at the corniest jokes. I loved the way she writes me little notes on her rainbow-colored post-its. I loved the way she dries my back off with a towel after every basketball game. I loved the way she took care of me...And I loved her for she loved me back. But every story must come to an end. Ours lasted until my family decided to leave for a better life. Abby didn't approve of me leaving her behind. She had separation issues. Her father left them when she was 7. She had guarded her heart from getting too close ever since. It was hard to let her know I would be doing the same thing her father did. So I tried to break it as gentle as I could. We tried compromising--write letters or emails as often, talk on the phone for hours. But technology can only do so much. After three months of being away, her final email came. She admitted she wasn't entirely ready for this. That we both have separate roads to take now. Her decision somehow brought relief. Not that I no longer loved her but because I loved her enough not to hurt her. I already broke her heart by leaving. The least I can do was give her what she wanted. We parted ways with open air. We agreed to remain friends. And we still are. I sometimes stumble upon her email and find myself struck by her last two worsd. Two very familiar words, "Goodbye, Tom." Another goodbye said, another love lost. But what bothered me more was how the first time I heard it resounded more.

************************

I got too tired of my swim-stare blankly-sleep routine by the third day. Besides, I was getting too much tan than I intended, so I decided to pack up and return back to the city. The drive was faster this time.

Going to the beach alone has its ups and downs. It gives you a chance to to be at peace and the time by yourself is cleansing in more ways than one. But it also makes you too lazy to plan leaving you with buckets of sand on your clothes and an empty, angry stomach. I don't even know when my last meal was--not counting, of course, the gallons of seawater I must've drunk. So right before I turned at the last corner to the hotel, I stopped by the famous golden arches. The Northern Star, my tummy grumbled. I got out of my car and headed towards the door. This is why McDonald's has a 6% increase in share value this year. Simply put, nothing beats the convenience and cheap prices of fast food. Though my mom continuously nags Jenny and I about how bad junk food is for our health, I still crave for a juicy double cheeseburger, crunchy fries and a large cup of soda, every now and then. Ironic as it sounds, but it's actually comfort food for me. While waiting for my burger, I nibbled on a fry, put out my palm as the lady behind the register handed me my change. I was halfway through my third fry when the rest of my meal came. I took the food to go to avoid being ticketed. I wasn't sure I had parked at the right spot. I would have opted for a drive thru had this branch offered it. Unfortunately, I was left with no other choice. So soon as my food was ready, I immediately went for the door, fumbling my pocket for the keys. I was such in a hurry that I forgot to look where I was going. And before I reached the exit, I accidentally bumped into someone. I said sorry and checked to see if she was okay. As her face lit up a smile, I felt my knees weaken. I've seen that dimpled smile from years back. It was Trish.

My face turned from pale to red almost instantaneously. "Tom!" she exclaimed. The moment I heard her say my name, I could feel my cheeks heat up and blush. It was too embarrassing. If Vic was there with his camera he can sell that photo to America's Dorkiest Moments and win hands down.

I almost forgot how to speak. For the first time in my life, I was at a loss for words. It took me about two minutes to regain consciousness from the trance and finally replied,

"Trish! I didn't see you. I'm sorry to bump into you like that. I wasn't looking. Are you hurt? I'm really sorry. I..."
"Stop apologizing Tom. I'm fine." she offered. "So how are you? When did you get back?"
Her eyes filled with surprise eager for my answer.
"I'm good! I arrived about a week ago. Two more weeks left and I'm off to another 16 hour flight back home. How have you been?"
"Well, I work now. I'm one of the editors for a national magazine. My office is just a few blocks away from here. I'm out for lunch so I decided to eat here." She pointed at the bag I held, "double cheesburger I suppose?"
I smiled and nodded.
"You guessed right. And I believe you're having chicken nuggets for lunch, right?"
"You know me too well." She laughed admittedly.

Funny how eight years seemed untouched. Or was this the only thing that remained? She checked for the time, cuing for my exit.

"I'm sorry to keep you. I have to go too. I still haven't figured how parking goes out here and if I don't leave soon, I think a run-in with an officer will be part of my vacation." I said, peering out the glass door keeping my eyes on the Altis.
"Yeah, sure. I'm sorry, it's just that I have less than an hour to get back to work. And the lines are starting to fill in...We should meet up again, sometime." she suggested.
"Definitely!" I let out quickly. "Are you free tomorrow night?"

She thought about her schedule and came up with dinner the day after. She's tied up with a meeting tomorrow afternoon and was not sure what time it'll end. We exchanged cellphone numbers and said our goodbyes. She fell in line and I finally made my way to the door. I paused. Pinched myself and turned to look at her one more time. There she was. Standing. Her back towards me. It wasn't a dream. She was real.

I took out a parking ticket by the windshield, got in the car and drove home. I couldn't stop grinning even as I got to my room. Not even the 200 hundred peso ticket turned me sour. It wasn't the most romantic setting but I took it. I took it all in. Had I not craved for my mom's "junk food", I wouldn't have seen Trish. And the best part is, in a couple of days, I'll be seeing her again.

Will we finally work things out this time? Or am I hoping against hope? In two days, I thought...In two days.

(to be continued)

Full Circle (part 2)

I woke up to Akon's voice chanting the same syllable over and over. Later did I realize that it was my cellphone ringing. I customized the tone to Akon's "Right Now", a song that always perks me up. I checked the screen and saw Chris's name flashing. I picked it up groggily,

"What's up? Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Well, hello to you too! It's 2 o'clock in in the afternoon, sleepyhead! I've been calling for the last half hour. It's about time you picked up," he called.

We talked for over a few minutes more, exchanging short chit-chats and hung up. We decided to meet up for dinner and a round of beer later tonight with other friends. He even termed it as a Boys Night Out. Just for old time's sake.

Chris and I were best of friends all throughout high school. Though we went to different Universities for college, we kept in touch. We hung out each time we got. Chris has always been my wingman--'my person' as Meredith Grey refers to Christina Yang in the hit series. He was a brother I never had. We had the same line of interest--basketball, women, booze. Back in fourth year high school, we agreed to have Saturday Nights as a 'Boys Night Out'. We would have dinner at Kroc's Grille and a few buckets of ice-cold beer at a bar nearby. Just the usual guy stuff. It wasn't also a bad idea that the bar we usually hung out at caters college girls partying. Beer and women were a match made in heaven for us high school boys. One of our friends, Max, got laid during one of our Night Outs. He did it with a Psychology student from Benilde named Cindy. She was physically okay. We gave her a 7 out of 10 rating. Although we admit we were a tough crowd. Max couldn't stop bragging about Cindy up until we graduated. And we kept telling him the only reason she went with him that night was she just had too much to drink. THat always kept Max's mouth shut from all the boasting. Max wasn't exactly blessed with good looks. He was scrawny and gangly. His face was pimply and his hair all greasy with the gel he applied. But he managed to hook up with a few girl here and there. What he lacked physically was compensated by his charm, confidence and his limitless cheesy-but-actually-works pickup lines. I've always wondered what Max would become once we are older. I guess I'd have to find out tonight. I kinda missed those guys. They always kept my mind off things. Their company made me take a step backward with what's happening to Trish and I then. They were concerned that I was getting in way too deep. Looks like they were right after all. I got hit hard with how I felt for her. Maybe that's why I still can't get over what happened. I don't know. I'm not sure anymore. All I know is in a few days, our paths would cross again.

I slacked a few more hours off. I rummaged through my clothes for something to wear. I picked out a navy blue "I'm With Stupid" shirt, that way I'd still have a kick when I sit beside Max later. I also pulled up my handy pair of Levi's to match it, and pondered whether to take my Chucks I wore last night or my Nikes to complete the outfit. My clothes were all laid out on the bed but it was still too early to get dressed. So I went to the nearest convenience store to buy a few things I needed. Along with a toothbrush and aftershave, I also picked up the latest FHM magazine to browse through and a Ham and Cheese sandwich to fill my empty stomach. My last meal was almost a day ago with the boneless chicken and mashed potatoes served at the plane.

My headache yesterday was more effective than a Sleepasil. It has been a while since I've had too much sleep. I felt good waking up after 12 hours of hibernating. My rest could have been pushed to a couple more hours had Chris not called up. But I can't blame him. It has been too long since we heard of each other. Though we kept in touch throughout college, things started to lose grip when my family moved overseas. We still texted and emailed for the first few months but when I got started on my job, I became too busy. We rarely caught each other on-line. Last news I got was that he was about to tie the knot. I was invited to his wedding last year. He even asked me to be his best man. Unfortunately, the company was working on this huge client at the time and we were required extra hours. So, I promised to make up for that, and this year was a perfect time to do that. I could hardly imagine Chris to be a husband. Let alone be thr first to get married from the batch. He was too immature then to handle such responsibility. But I guess time does change. And so do people.

I almost forgot what time it is. I rushed to the loo, took a bath and got dressed. The dark clouds outside suggested I bring along my jacket. I checked for the time. My Swiss Army told me I have about 50 minutes to get to the Grille. It took me about five minutes to hail a cab. I'm not pretty sure if I had allotted enough travel time. With traffic in Manila, you'll never know. Luckily though, I arrived about thirty minutes later. The cab swerved through Ayala Avenue in such speed that the next thing I knew, I was reaching for my wallet and handed a couple of hundred peso bills to the driver. I entered the resto and scanned the crowd for familiar faces. No sign of them. Just before the waitress approached me, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a message from Chris telling me he's on his way. Not wanting to sit alone at a table, I decided to step out for a while and lit a cigarette.

Smoking was never my thing. But it did help me get through cold, winter nights. The heater in my pad wasn't quite enough to keep me warm. When it gets really, really cold I just warm myself up with a cup of black coffee and a few sticks of Dunhill. Soon as I put out my second cigarette, I heard someone call my name from behind. I turned around and there they were. Chris, Max, and two other buddies, Victor and Ace. The gang was complete yet again. We exchanged punches and handshakes. Our laughter thundered the nightfall. Passers-by staring at us with disgusted faces thinking, what a bunch of lunatics. We really didn't cared. But we went inside anyway to officially start a long night filled with catching up, drunkenness, and more laughter.

The waiter brought a platter of Spicy Salted Squid to complete our entree. Looking at everything we ordered, you would think feast for a king. There was food for at least 8 people on our table. I almost forgot we were gluttony out of the seven deadly sins. We all said our graces and dug in. I filled my plate with two pieces of roasted chicken, a slice of pizza and a huge serving of Caesar salad. The talking never stopped. They ambushed me with a bunch of questions--mostly about my work and women. Victor and Ace started arguing whether Blondes or Brunettes were better. As their debate segued to eye color, I asked how Max was doing. Unlike Vic and Ace, he graduated college with a degree in Business Management. He is now a marketing officer for Allsec Technologies. I guess his job also required its employees to be physically appealing. Gone was the gawky teenager. The new Max now fills his shirt with muscles that has 'gym' written all over it. He also has a girlfriend. No, not Cindy. This time he met her at work and not at some bar. They have been steady for three years now. As for the group's clowns, Vic and Ace have their own photography business. Not finishing college was not the end of their road. They decided to trade their books for lenses. Their caps and togas for events, photoshoots and models. THey've always had their eyes set for this kind of work. And I'm very happy that they're living their dreams. I took another huge bite of my gooey hin crust pizza. Chewed on it for a while and drowned the half-masticated food with two gulps of beer. The table then turned a complete 180 as Vic asked me, "Whatever happened to you and Trish Tom?" Max immediately shot Vic a glare as if he just asked an atheist about God. The table fell silent, waiting awkwardly for my reaction. I found it rather funny. They still probably thought asking me about Trish is taboo. Yet I know that I've moved on. Or have I? At least that's what I'd like to believe. I cleared my throat and finally broke the silence.

"Trish and I are OK, I guess. We never really got the chance to talk again since we graduated. We both were going our separate ways, so we decided to just break it off and keep the friendship. I mean, being in that young age, we could have easily mistaken what we're feeling with mere infatuation or admiration, right? The uncertainty of our youth basically decided for both of us not to take that step forward..." The silence trailed off a few seconds more. Vic was taking it all in as Max and Ace nodded in agreement. My piece satisfied most of them--all but Chris. He looked at me like I had just told a lie. I almost knew what his look meant. Listening back to what I replied, I noticed how I overused 'we' and it hit me. I realized I had not chosen the right words after all. No way can I take them back now. It did make sense to the rest of the gang. They bought it. But did it really make sense to me? Was that exactly what happened? Or was that what I just forced myself to believe in all these years?

(to be continued..)

Full Circle (part 1)

"This is the captain speaking. Flight 972 has just been cleared for landing. Have a wonderful day in Manila, Philippines. Thank you for flying Philippine Airlines."

I unstrapped my seatbelt, grabbed my duffel bag from the overhead compartment and waited in line to exit the plane.

I spent the last 16 hours with my i-pod playing mostly Rascal Flatts and a few One Republic songs. These kinds of music always hit home for me plus they make excellent lullabies. I was even reading this book by Harlan Coben to tire my eyes to sleep. Obviously, I was trying to force myself to get some shut-eye throughout the whole flight, hoping it would keep me from thinking about her. But then again, my thoughts failed me.


It has been eight years since I last saw Trish, but her memories remained. I still remember the touch of her soft, gentle hands locked into mine. The sweet scent of her perfume lingered. I often hear her raspy yet cherubic voice whispering. But what echoes the most were her two final words. "Goodbye, Tom."

The taxi's horn shook me back to reality. The cab driver helped me get my luggages in the trunk, opened the door for me and asked for the destination. I slid down the back seat and heaved a sigh. Home at last, I thought.

Coming back to the Philippines is bittersweet. I earned a three-week vacation from the firm I work in. I am currently an accountant for a private company in New York. Getting a day off from work is like asking God for a miracle. You don't really know when it will happen, but it will--as long as you deserve it and the timing is right. And now everything seemed to fall into place. After four years of being drowned with numbers and stacks of paperwork, I deserved a break. It also helped when my bestfriend Chris told me of a get-together we were having this year. This also meant I was going to see her again...The thought of us seeing again still gives me quite the rush. I don't know what to expect. I didn't know what eight years of separation has done. You see, my family migrated to the United States six years ago, soon as I got my license as a CPA. It was tough adjusting to a new country. I got sick most of winter when we first moved there. Apparently, my body wasn't adapting well. But we got through it within a year. I immediately got hired by Ernst & Young--a private accounting firm in New York, New York. Everything went uphill from there. Honestly, I have more than a man could ask for--a well-paying job, wonderful family, a great life for a Filipino who's been in America for just a short span. But still, something felt missing.

Migraine sets in as I checked in to the hotel. Unfortunately, 16 hours of no sleep and traffic don't mix well for my now throbbing head. I threw my sports jacket over a black, leather ottoman, took off my Chucks and hopped on the bed. The room looked modern. I was actually impressed with the minimalist, black-and-white theme. It was awfully silent though, with the AC's soft whir filling the void. I decided to turn the TV on to keep me company. I randomly picked a channel and went back to bed.

" Can you find this star, right here?" a guy asked.
A girl replied hesitantly, "Sure. So why am I looking for this star?"
"Because I had it named for you. See? It’s official. It’s from the International Star Registry."
The girl sighed and simply said, "This is wonderful… I love you."

Those lines were vaguely familiar. I turned to face the TV and there it was. A Walk To Remember was playing on HBO. It suddenly took me back to where it started.


I was 17 and Trish was 16. We were on our fourth and final year in High School. We weren't really together together. We just always hung out. We did a lot of things together. I walked her home right after school. We had lunch everyday on "our" table. Our friends would leave the table by the window empty for us. It was an unwritten rule they thought was cute. That was our spot. We talked about anything and everything--from her little pranks to annoy her siblings to what we wanted to take up in college. Maybe that was what I liked about her. There was never a dull moment with Trish. We got real close. We started going out. " A Walk To Remember" was our first real date, if you may. It was the first time we watched a movie together. Just the two of us. No chaperones. No third, fourth or fifth wheels. Just us. A boy and a girl appreciating a wonderful story about true love. I guess you can call it a date, right? That day still felt as real as it was.

I remember how good she looked with her hair pulled back in a pony, and nothing but a simple blue shirt topped over a faded pair of jeans. Simplicity at its best. As I continued recounting that day, I noticed the final credits pulling up. The movie was over and so was my night. Insomnia wears off, replaced by an angry migraine. My eyes decided to droop. Calling it a day, I dozed off completely--leaving the TV and the lights on.

What will tomorrow be like? Will it be just like any other day for the past eight years--more memories of her?

(to be continued..)

surfacing

Across the vast, moonlit stage
a slim figure is set
a statue in a perfect arabesque
draped in seamless satin

the string section of the orchestra
draws the visible light brighter,
gathers a certain reverie,
brings the statue to life

Beethoven's Symphony No. 4 fills the air
the luminescence accentuates the statue
--tenured muscles carefully carved
matched with a countenance too perfect for words

From a demi-plie to a grand jete
the statue glides with exceptional grace
each pirouette signed with dexterity,
a feather in the air, a beautiful artisan in itself

Beethoven's piece on its final sheet
the orchestra reaches decrescendo
the hollow space catches an uproar
and the statue returns to its perfect arabesque

the once moonlit stage now pitch black
behind closed curtains, the statue slumps
no longer in its lean, slim silhouette
but rather in an unfamiliar slouch

removing its pointe shoes
has never been as painful
its eyes wince as it caressed its calloused feet
the faultless technique paid for by bruises
its poise close to perfection worthy of blisters

As pain and throb struggle
the statue replaces its pointe shoes
again, the faint moonlight came into view
...the statue takes its cue
reappears in its arabesque
--seamless, perfect, unknowing

time

TIME...How much do we have of it? Or should I say, how little do we have left?

People diagnosed with cancer spend each waking day thanking God for such blessing; and yet people with perfect health waste each day smoking pot and getting high...

People working 80 hours a week would give up anything for a day off; and yet people still put off for tomorrow what they can do for today...

People who realize they just lost their love spend each hour winning them back; and yet people surrounded by love spend each hour keeping them away, thinking how suffocating it gets...

Time is indeed a luxury we can afford.

But can we afford to lose too much of it?

At the end of the day, we recount all the days lost, hours wasted, minutes dissipated...

Too many what-ifs cloud our head

Shoulda woulda couldas take the best out of us...

We have the slightest idea of how much time we have, and we have no clue how little we have left.

Take time and think about it...

...clock is ticking...

Next thing you know--time is up.

the battle

Dark clouds hovering above
eyes of God welling up

the seemingly angry sky
looking down on its peasants

the gladiators above begin the jolt
bloodshed waiting to happen

drop by drop
blood brimming over the peasants' field

amidst the chaos, a peasant stands
downpour washes his filthy bearing

peasant heaved a deep breath
his eyes wandering, his lips quivering,
his bare feet cold as ice

heading towards shelter, he failed
his field barren, flushed by the battle above

peasant lies on his back
arms crossed over his chest

soft whispers, he began
talking to whose eyes were weeping

the final drop of blood
touched the peasant's face

the gladiators have ceased
the seemingly angry sky has left
eyes of God has cleared up
hovering dark clouds no more

the arena has emptied
the King has apparently arrived

yet the peasant still lays
curled up as a newborn
his eyes shut, his lips quivering
his bare feet still cold as ice

the field still reminiscent of ruins
nothing audible, except

the soft whispers from the peasant's mouth
talking to whose eyes now cleared up

"Save me for the battle isn't over..."