great finds

ever since my pc got infected by adware, i've been wary of downloading freebies from the net. i don't know why but last night i found myself googling for mp3's. probably another one of my delaying tactics. i just can't make myself wrap up this manuscript i've been working on for close to three months now. imagine that!? there's just this one scene left, just ONE more but try as i might i just CANNOT write it.anyway, going back to the mp3's. i found a number of really great sounding songs. some from this michigan based band called acoustic reserve. they sound a lot like toad the wet sprocket who i absolutely adore! there's also this indie pop group from seattle called postal service. super fine music from them too. and of course, you know joss stone...i didn't sleep a wink at all last night. i was downloading like crazy. in fact, i managed to save a CD's worth of MP3s in my drive. good thing my pc's now armed with ad-aware.

kainis

ganoon pala 'tong blog. pag nag-copy paste ka galing sa ms word nagkakaroon ng alien characters. kainis!

i cried buckets

Para sa isang tulad ko na mababaw ang luha. You can just imagine kung gaano kadaming balde ang iniluha ko matapos basahin ang kuwentong ito. Na-inspire tuloy akong gawan ito ng libro.

Its worth reading..This is a true story, taken from "Family"Read it.. its very long but definitely worth reading...

Cruel misunderstandings one after another disrupted the blissful footsteps to our family.

Our original intend of having Mother enjoy some quiet and peaceful moments in her remaining years with us went terribly wrong as destiny's secret is finally revealed at a price, every thing became too late.

Just two years after our marriage, hubby brought up the idea of asking Mother to move from the rural hometown and spend her remaining years with us.

Hubby's father passed away while he was still very young. Mother endured much hardship and struggled all on her own to provide for him, see him through to a university degree. You could say that she suffered a great deal and did everything you could expect of a woman to bring hubby to where he is today.

I immediately agreed and started packing the spare room, which has a balcony facing the South to let her enjoy the sunshine and plant some greenery.

Hubby stood in the bright room, and suddenly just picked me up and started spinning round and round.As I begged him to put me down, he said: "Lets go fetch mother."

Hubby is tall and big sized and I love to rest on his chest and enjoy the feeling that he could pick me up at any moment put the tiny me into his pockets.

Whenever we have an argument and both refuses to back down, he would pick me up and spin me over his head continuously until I surrender and beg for mercy. I became addicted to this kind of panic-joy feeling.

Mother brought along her countryside habits and lifestyle with her. For example; I am so used to buying flowers to decorate the living room, she could not stand it and would comment: "I do not know how you young people spend your money, why do you buy flowers for? You also can't eat the flowers!"

I smiled and said: "Mum, with flowers in the house, our mood will also become better."

Mother continues to grumble away, and hubby smiled: "Mum, this is a city-people's habit; slowly you will get use to it."Mother stopped saying anything.

But every time thereafter, whenever I came home with flowers, she would ask me how much it costs. I told her and she would shake her head and express displeasure. Sometimes, when I come home with lots of hopping bags, she would ask each and every item how much they cost, I would tell her honestly and she would get even more upset about it.

Hubby playfully pinched my nose and said: "You little fool, just don't tell her the full price of everything would solve it."There begins the friction to our otherwise happy lifestyle. Mother hates it most when hubby wakes up early to prepare the breakfast. In your view, how could the man of the house cook for the wife? At the breakfast table, mother facial _expression is always like the dark clouds before a thunderstorm and I would pretend not to notice. She would use her chopsticks and make a lot of noise with it as her silent protest.

As I am a dance teacher in the Children's Palace and is exhausted from a long day of dancing around, I do not wish to give up the luxury of that additional few minutes in the comfort of my bed and hence I turned a deaf ear to all the protest mother makes.From time to time, mother would help out with some housework, but soon her help created additional work for me. For example; she would keep all kinds of plastic bags accumulating them so that she sell them later on, and that resulted in our house being filled with all the trash bags.

She would scrimp on dish washing detergent when helping to wash the dishes and so as not to hurt her feelings, I would quietly wash them again. One day, late at night, mother saw me quietly washing the dishes, and "Bam" she slams her bedroom door and cried very loudly in her room. Hubby was placed in a difficult position, and after that, he did not speak to me for that entire night. I pretended to be a spoilt child, tried acting cute, but he totally ignored me.

I got mad and asked him: "What did I do wrong?"

Hubby stared at me and said: "Can't you just give in to her once? We couldn't possibly die eating from a bowl however unclean it is, right?" After that incident, for a long period of time, mother did not speak to me and you can feel that there is a very awkward feeling hanging in the house.

During that period of cold war, hubby was caught in dilemma as to who to please.

In order to stop her son from having to prepare breakfast, mother took on the "all important" task of preparing breakfast without any prompting. At the breakfast table, mother would look at hubby happily eating his breakfast and cast that reprimanding stare at me for having failed to perform my duty as a wife.To avoid the embarrassing breakfast situation, I resorted to buying my own breakfast on my way to work.

That night, while in bed, hubby was a little upset and asked me: "LD, is it because you think that mum's cooking is not clean that's why you chose not to eat at home?"

He then turned his back on me and left me alone in tears as feeling of unfairness overwhelmed me. After sometime, hubby sighed: "LD, just for me, can you have breakfast at home?" I am left with no choice but to return to the breakfast table.

The next morning, I was having porridge prepared by mother and I felt a sudden churn in my stomach and everything inside seem to be rushing up my throat. I tried to suppress the urge to throw up but I couldn't. I threw down the bowl and rushed into the washroom and vomited everything out.

Just as I was catching my breath, I saw mother crying and grumbling very loudly in her dialect, hubby was standing at the washroom doorway staring at me with fire burning in his eyes. I opened my mouth but no words came out of it, I really didn't mean it.

We had our very first big fight that day; mother took a look at us, then stood up and slowly made her way out of the house. Hubby gave me a final stare in the eye and followed mother down the stairs. For three days, hubby did not return home, not even a phone call.

I was so furious, since mother arrived; I had been trying my best and putting up with her, what else do you want me to do? For no reason, I keep having the feeling to throw up and I simply have not appetite for food, coupled with all the events happening at home, I was at the low point in my life. Finally, a colleague said: "LD, you look terrible; you should go and see a doctor."

The doctor confirmed that I am pregnant. Now it became clear to me why I threw up that fateful morning, a sense of sadness floated through that otherwise happy news.

Why didn't hubby, and mother who had been through this before, thought of the possibility of this being the reason that day? At the hospital entrance, I saw my hubby standing there. It had only been three days, but he looked haggard.

I had wanted to turn and leave, but one look at him and my heart soften, I couldn't resist and called out to him. He followed my voice and finally found me but he pretended that he doesn't know me; he has that disgusted look in his eyes that cut right through my heart.

I told myself not to look at him anymore, and hail a cab. At that moment, I have such a strong urge inside me to shout to my hubby: "Darling, I am having your baby!" and have him lift me up and spin me round in circles of joy.

What I wanted didn't happen and as I sat in the cab, my tears started rolling down. Why? Why our love couldn't even withstand the test of one fight? Back home, I lay on the bed thinking about my hubby, and the disgusted look in his eyes. I cried and wet the corner of the blanket.

That night, sound of the drawers opening woke me up. I switched on the lights and I saw hubby with tears rolling down his face. He was removing the money. I stared at him in silence; he ignored me, took the bank deposit book and some money and left the house. Maybe he really intends to leave me for good.What a rational man, so clear-cut in love and money matters. I gave a few dried laugh and tears starting streaming down again.

The next day, I did not go to work.

I wanted to clear this out and have a good talk with hubby. I reached his office and his secretary gave me a weird look and said:"Mr. Tan's mother had a traffic accident and is now in the hospital."I stood there in shock. I rushed to the hospital and by the time I found hubby, mother had already passed away. Hubby did not look at me, his face was expressionless. I looked at mother's pale white and thin face and I couldn't control the tears in my eyes.

My god, how could this happen?

Throughout the funeral, hubby did say a single word to me, with only the occasional disgusted stare at me. I only managed to find out brief facts about the accident from other people.

That day, after mother left the house, she walked in dazed towards the bus stop, apparently intending to go back to her old house back in the countryside. As hubby ran after her, she tried to walk faster and as she tried to cross the street, a public bus came and hit her...

I finally understood how much hubby must hate me, if I had not thrown up that morning, if we had not quarreled, if... In his heart, I am indirectly the killer of his mother.

Hubby moved into mother's room and came home every night with a strong liquor smell on him. And me, I am buried under the guilt and self pity and could hardly breathe.

I wanted to explain to him, tell him that we are going to have our baby soon, but each time, I saw the dead look in his eyes, all the words I have at the brink of my mouth just fell back in.I had rather he hit me real hard or give me a big and thorough scolding though none of these events happening had been my fault at all. Many days of suffocating silence went by and as the days went by, hubby came home later and later. The deadlock between us continues, we were living together like strangers who don't know each other. I am like the dead knot in his heart.

One day, I passed by a western restaurant, looking into the glass window, I saw hubby and a girl sitting facing each other and he very lightly brushed her hair for her, I understood what it meant. After recovering from that moment of shock, I entered the restaurant, stood in front of my hubby and stared hard at him, not a tear in my eyes. I have nothing to say to him, and there is no need to say anything.

The girl looked at me, looks at hubby, stands up and wanted to go, hubby stretched out his hand and stopped her. He stared back at me, challenging me. I can only hear my slow heart beat, beating, one by one as if at the brink of death. I eventually backed down, if I had stood that any longer, I will collapse together with the baby inside me.

That night, he did not come home; he had chosen to use that as a way to indicate to me: Following mother's death so did our love for each other. He did not come home anymore after that. Sometimes, when I returned home from work, I can tell that the cupboard had been touched -he had returned to take some of his stuff.

I no longer wish to call him; the initial desire to explain everything to him vanished. I lived alone; I go for my medical checkups alone, my heart breaks again and again every time I see a guy carefully helping his wife through the physical examination. My office colleagues hinted to me to consider aborting the baby, I told them No, I will not. I insisted on having to this baby, perhaps it is my way of repaying mother for causing her death.

One day, I came home and I saw hubby sitting in the living room. The whole house was filled with cigarette smoke. On the coffee table, there was this piece of paper. I know what it is all about without even looking at it. In the two months plus of living alone, I have gradually learned to find peace within myself.I looked at him, removed my hat and said: "You wait a while, I will sign."

He looked at me, mixed feelings in his eyes, just like mine.As I hang up my coat, I keep repeating to myself "You cannot cry, you cannot cry..." my eyes hurt terribly, but I refused to let tears come out from there. After I hung up my coat, hubby's eyes stared fixed at my bulging tummy. I smiled, walked over to the coffee table and pull the paper towards me. Without even looking at what it says, I signed my name on it and pushed the paper to him.

"LD, you are pregnant?"

Since mother's accident, this is the first time he spoke to me. I could not control my tears any further and they fell like raindrops.I said: "Yes, but its ok, you can leave now."

He did not go, in the dark, we sat, facing each other. Hubby slowly moved over me, his tears wet the blanket. In my heart, everything seems so far away, so far that even if I sprint, I could never reach them. I cannot remember how many times he repeated "sorry" to me, I had originally thought that I would forgive him, but now I can't.

In the western restaurant, in front of that girl, that cold look in his eyes, I will never forget, ever.We have drawn such deep scares in each other's heart. For me, it's unintentional; for him, totally intentional. I had been waiting for this moment of reconciliation, but I realized now, what had gone past is gone forever and could not repeated.

Other than the thought of the baby inside me that would bring some warmth to my heart, I am totally cold towards him, I no longer eat anything he buys for me, I don't take any presents from him and I stopped talking to him. From the moment I signed on that piece of paper, marriage and love had vanished from my heart.

Sometimes, hubby will try to come into the bedroom, but when he walks in, I will walk out to the living room. He had no choice but to sleep in mother's room. At night, from his room, I can hear light sounds of groaning, I kept quiet. This used to be his trick; last time, whenever I ignore him, he would fake illness and I will surrender and find out what is wrong with him, he would then grab me and laugh.

He has forgotten that last time; I cared for him and am concerned because there is love, but now, what is there between us?

Hubby's groaning came on and off continuing all the way till baby was born. Almost everyday, he would buy something for the baby, infant products, children products and books that kids like to read. Bag sand bags of it stacked inside his room till it is full. I know he is trying to use this to reach out to me, but I am no longer moved by his actions. He has no choice but to lock himself in his room and I can hear him typing away on his computer keyboard, maybe he is now addicted to web surfing, but none of that matters to me anymore.

It was sometime towards the end of spring in the following year, one late night, I screamed because of a sudden stomach pain, hubby came rushing into the room, its like he did not change and sleep, and had been waiting for this moment. He carried me and ran down the stairs, stopped a car, holding my hand very tightly and kept wiping the sweat off my brown, throughout the journey to the hospital.

Once we reached the hospital, he carried me and hurried into the delivery suite. Lying on the back of his skinny but warmth body, a thought crossed my mind: In my lifetime, who else would love me as much as he did?

He held the delivery suite door opened and watch me go in, his warm eyes caused me to managed a smile at him despite my contraction pain. Coming out of the delivery room, hubby looked at our son, and me, his eyes tear with joy and he kept smiling. I reached out and touched his hand. Hubby looked at me, smiling and then he slowly collapsed onto the floor. I cried out for him in pain... He smiled, but without opening that tired eyes of his...

I had thought that I would never shed any tear for him, but the truth is, I have never felt a deeper pain cutting through my body at that moment. Doctor said that by the time hubby discovered he had liver cancer, it was already in terminal stage and it was a miracle that he managed to last this long.

I asked the doctor when did he first discover he had cancer?Doctor said about 5 months ago and consoled me saying: "Prepare for his funeral." I disregarded the nurse's objection and rushed home, I went into his room and checked his computer, and a suffocating pain hits me. Hubby's cancer was discovered 5 months ago, his groaning was real, and I had thought that... the computer showed over 200 thousand words he wrote for our son:

"Son, just for you, I have persisted, to be able to take a look at you before I fall, is my biggest wish now... I know that in your life, you will have many happiness and maybe some setbacks, if only I can accompany you throughout that journey, how nice would it be. But daddy now no longer has that chance. Daddy has written inside here all the possible difficulties and problems you may encounter during your lifetime, when you meet with these problems, you can refer to daddy's suggestion... Son, after writing these 200 thousand words, I feel as if I have accompanied you through your life journey. To be honest, daddy is very happy. Do love your mother, she has suffered, she is the one who loves you most and also the one who loves me most..."

From play school to primary school, to secondary, university, to work and even in dealing with questions of love, everything big and small was written there.

Hubby has also written a letter for me:

"My dear, to marry you is my biggest happiness, forgive me for the pain I have caused you, forgive me for not telling you my illness, because I want to see you be in a joyful mood waiting for the arrival of our baby...

My dear, if you cried, it means that you have forgiven me and I would smile, thank you for loving me...

These presents, I'm afraid I cannot give them to our son personally, could you help me to give some of them to him every year, the dates on what to give when are all written on the packaging..."

Going back to the hospital, hubby is still in coma. I brought our son over and place him beside him. I said:

"Open your eyes and smile, I want our son to remember being in the warmth of your arms..."

He struggled to open his eyes and managed a weak smile. Our son still in his arms was happily waving his tiny hands in the air. I press the button on the camera and the sound of the shutter rang thought the air as tears slowly rolled down my face...

...The end...

Remember this, and keep it to your heart. Love has its own time, its own seasons, and its own reason for coming and going. You cannot bribe it or coerce it, or reason it into staying. You can only embrace it when it arrives and give it away when it comes to you..

Natanggap ko ang artikulong ito sa e-mail, pinadala ng kaibigan kong si Joy. Lang Ya ko Joy, iyak ako ng iyak dito

dogster

So there I was blog hopping and going about my merry way when I came accross this QT site. You see I'm a fan of friendster myself so I was mighty pleased to learn that there's such a thing as dogster. For those of you who don't know me, I'm crazy about my dog Bubba. Now she can build her own pup network too!

foresight

oo nga't mabenta ang tagalog romance kung ikukumpara sa ibang locally published books pero within the genre hindi na healthy ang competition, isa-isa ng nawawala ang mga T.R. publications. iilan na lang ang lumalaban... hindi ko alam kung mabuti ba 'yon o hindi... kung totoong malakas ang T.R., di ba dapat hindi sila nababawasan bagkus ay nadaragdagan?

sa ngayon, maganda para sa publication na kinabibilangan ko ang nangyayari dahil nabawasan ang kaagaw niya sa market... hindi katulad noon na mahigit sampu, ngayon mabibilang na lang sa isang kamay ang mga T.R. publications... sa ngayon, ok pero sa susunod na mga taon, ok pa din ba?

im not an economist pero ang alam ko, malalaman mo kung may demand para sa isang produkto kapag marami ang naglalaban para makapag-manufacture ng nasabing produkto... minsan nga isa lang ang manufacturer pero iba-ba ang brand names na nilalabas di ba, halimbawa na ang shampoo... ilan ba ang shampoo ng P&G, ng uniliver, ng colg-palm???

i-compare natin sa shampoo ang nangyayari sa T.R. industry... lets say nawala ang colg-palm, nalugi... later on ang uniliver naman ang nawala, nalugi din... P&G na lang ang naiwan, sila kasi ang pinakamatibay, survival of the fittest wika nga... ano sa tingin mo ang gagawin ng P&G? ...im guessing ibababa nila ang quality nila ...wala na kasi silang kalaban eh... that's not good right?

ang feeling ko doon patungo ang T.R. industry... i have to admit, ngayon pa lang ay may senyales na na unti-unti nang nasa-saturate ang market... kaya nga nagkaroon ng puwang para sa bangketa books eh... kapag nagpatuloy ito, baka ang mangyari sa halip na pataasan ng quality ay pababaan ng quality ang ang maging labanan... ayoko!

what to do...what to do... hmmm

xxx sakaling may taga-PW na makakabasa nito...
oo na, alam ko, bumenta na ang nakasulat sa blog na 'to! :P

mga kauri ko

'eto na naman ako...pumapatay muli ng oras...hindi ako makatulog kahit wala namang lamok...ay! correction kanina pala meron kaya lang na-empacho na yata kasi M.I.A. na siya ngayon...

shucks! gusto ko nang matulog!...(yawn)...ewan ko ba...siguro dahil maalinsangan ang panahon...hiling ko'y sana bumuhos na ang nagbabadyang ulan...ilang araw na 'yang init na 'yan...hindi na siya nakakatuwa...ang init init init...sobra...'yan ang hirap sa walang air-con eh...sana may mag-regalo sa akin ng air-con sa pasko (har har)...ah basta...pasakit talaga ang weather...

nga pala...dahil mailap si antok...naisip kong mag-surf na lang ng mga kauri ko sa internet...read: mga katulad ko ding manunulat ng tagalog romance

wrong move....lalo lang nawala si antok nang mabasa ko ang blogs ng ibang kontratista dyan sa tabi-tabi...imbes na tumulong para maiangat ang imahe ng industriya ng T.R. ay hinihila pa nila iyon pababa...kahit papaano ay may naiaambag din naman ang ganitong uri ng babasahin, ah?!

me <-- indignant!

at the very least, binubuhay nila ang interes ng mamayang flip na magbasa

ok... nuff na... i don't wanna delve into this dahil matagal pa ang umaga... sayang

click n'yo na lang ang mga links na'to... silang 3 lang ang mga kauri ko na "nahalikwat" ko sa aking pagsi-surf... kung mayroon pa kayong alam just comment away...josephine mina, jasmine, martha cecilia

where's my muse?

Yet another day has passed and still...nothing. Now more than ever, I am convinced that my muse has definitely gone AWOL! Any idea where she might have gone? I've been searching for her for weeks now, months even. But to no end. none, nada, zilch, wala

*imagine Carrie's V.O. here*which brings me to the question...how does one find one's muse?

To cure the dreaded oh-no-I-can't-write-a-darn-thing syndrome, somebody once suggested I try blogging. To cut a long story short, I did as he suggested (obviously `cause here I am blogging :p). Is it working? you ask. I'm not sure yet. What I'm certain of is that as I write this blog, I'm keeping myself from writing what I really need-have to-must write. My manuscript. (whose deadline by the way was last month!)

*imagine me here panicking*

I guess I'm just delaying the inevitable. And what for me is inevitable? Being criticized. Being judged and subsequently be found lacking. This is among my many issues. My books are my babies. My babies are me. I consider them and me as one and the same. So if anyone says anything against them, I can't help but feel that it's a personal affront against me.

This is wrong, I know. What I should be thinking is that I can't please everybody, NO MATTER WHAT. And that I am not my work. It's just a part of who I am. But how do you do away with something that's woven so deep in your psyche?

mabuting tao ba ako?

Lagi kong katwiran
marahil kaya mabait sa akin si Lord
ay dahil mabuti akong tao.
Bagaman bihira kung ako ay magdasal
at lalong bihira kung ako ay magsimba,
gusto kong isipin na isa akong mabuting tao.

Sa abot ng aking makakaya,
iniiwasan ko ang magkasala.
Alam ko ang tama sa mali,
at lagi ay doon ako sa tama.

Pero ano ba ang batayan ng kabutihan?
Marami akong hangarin.
Subalit kulang ako sa kusa.
Gusto kong tumulong sa kapwa ko.
Gusto kong mag-ambag ng kabutihan sa mundo.
Pero hanggang sa isip lamang.
Paminsan-minsan abot hanggang salita.
Ngunit nunca sa gawa.

Mabuting tao ba ako?

my credo

I was cleaning my hard disk when I chanced upon the following drafts. These (together with ON WRITING A TAGALOG ROMANCE) are posts I submitted to a mailing list I subscribe to. If you feel you have the time and have nothing better to do with it, read on...

my credo

First question: What does being a writer entail of me?

True, to some degree, I have been blessed with the gift but I am also burdened with the responsibility of using this gift to incite change, more accurately, growth. Primarily, this growth should occur in me. I must challenge myself to think, to seek my own truth, and ultimately gain a spot of wisdom. By far, a tall order but I have no choice. It is my obligation.

Second question: And then what?

I will deliberately let this wisdom seep through my prose and with luck provoke whoever reads my work to ponder, to contemplate, even better, challenge my position hoping that in the end, they too shall seek their own truth and subsequently gain their own wisdom. If all of us were to remain passive, not challenging, merely accepting then growth ceases to be.

Third question: Hurdles to change (culture, colonialism etc.)& what to do about them

Since I cant even begin to answer this question let alone solve this problem, I made myself a personal credo instead. These may be tagged as baby steps towards change but steps nonetheless
(1) I will infuse as much substance to my prose as I am able to. Not forgetting of course, my two-fold task of sharing whatever wisdom I
have behind the guise of giving pleasure to my readers.
(2) There are different avenues for change. I will explore all of them.
(3) This brings me to the matter of conservatism. Seeing as I am already shackled by the barriers mentioned. I must keep from shackling myself too by being inflexible and fearing change. I shall push, stretch, evolve, and if need be, bend just to...
(4) Put my work out there, again and again and again, each time raising the bar

on writing a tagalog romance

When the idea of writing a Tagalog romance novel first entered my mind, I was confident I could wing it easy. Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl in the end--how hard could it be?That was what I thought and boy was I wrong. It wasn't as effortless as I imagined at all. It's not enough that my story didn't have any loopholes, that my sentence structure's clean, that my syntax spotless. All these were necessary, yes, but not as vital as making sure I fleshed out my plotline in such a way that I am able to invoke emotions from my readers. This is easier said than done, believe you me.

That is why it pains me to see that after more than a decade of being on the shelves, most still regard Tagalog romance novels (not to mention us writers of such) as mediocre. People who "open their legs to money" that was how a renowned Filipino novelist and essayist once described us. Needless to say, his analogy upsets me.

I admit, it's easier to get a Tagalog romance novel published nowadays because the demand is there. In this regard, you could say I sold out. But then again--and this is just me--what's the use of writing something that only a handful can understand and appreciate? That is, if what I write gets published at all.

Granted, Tagalog romance novels are devoid of socio-political commentaries but there are other equally if not more important insights we share in lieu of this. In particular, life lessons, faith in people, the value of communication, courage to face one's fears, being the owner of one's emotions etc. As a writer, I try to infuse these as themes in my books and I'm certain others like me do too.Okay, so our plot lines may be simple and yes overused. But there is nothing wrong about simplicity, is there? And the beauty of using a tried and tested plotline is the challenge it brings, how to twist it and make it seem new again...