Typhoon Ondoy was not the typical storm which comes with strong winds and lashes out in fury. It’s the I-will-pour-like-there’s-no-tomorrow type of rain which eventually flooded all the nooks and crannies of NCR which for some reason is similar to a basin that was seemingly designed to capture all the rain water.

So many people were either forced to evacuate their homes, were trapped in the second floor of their homes, were left shivering at the roofs of their houses, or wading or swimming in flood.

I was alerted to this impending doom while waiting for my mother and sister to arrive in our house because we had a plan to go somewhere. Being the typical “lakwatseras”, they still went out despite the heavy rains. So, later, they texted me saying that the traffic in Fairview was so heavy. After more than an hour in traffic and the buses were already deciding to turn back because apparently one area is already chest-deep in water, they also had the sense to turn back. They were able to reach home with no more eventualities. My brother, who was also out at the time, in Manila of all places, said when I called him that he will just stay in the mall to wait for the rain to stop. Later in the day, I could no longer contact him and we were so worried for his safety. It turned out that he ended up going to UST (of all places again!) in the HS building where there’s obviously very weak signal and my call is always cut off. As of the moment, we still haven’t heard from him but my instinct tells me that he is fine. Our other friends and relatives were not so lucky, however.

Three of my friends (as far as I know today) had to evacuate their homes and were not able to save anything except for their families and probably some valuables which could be carried on their persons. One had to be rescued by a pump boat by a priest from a neighboring parish. Another friend went all the way to Bulacan and had to leave all her hard-earned material possessions. Still, one more had to walk barefoot as she and her family including a 2-year old son evacuated to a safer place.

After trying to contact a friend who has been quiet for most of the day despite my attempts to reach her, I finally got a text message from her telling me that they are trapped in the second floor of their factory with 50 employees. The water level was continuously rising then and I feared for their safety. It was only at 5:30 Am today that they were finally able to get out. But picking up the pieces would be another formidable task today.

One of my aunts who lives in Marikina was also trapped in the second floor of a relative’s home. They had no food with them since last night and water just subsided this morning. As I write this, I have not been fully updated yet as to the extent of the damage.

Some of them also braved the floods. One friend was scheduled to see her doctor and went all the way to Caloocan from Paranaque. Sadly, the doctor wasn’t able to make it due to the floods. When my friend was turning back home, the flood was already so heavy that she said she had to walk the length of Edsa ‘til her home. I have a feeling it was from the LRT station in Baclaran ‘til their home in Paranaque. Then, another, tried to go home from Ateneo at 12 noon. She said that she had to ride two different train, a bus, and a jeepney then had to walk in waist-deep water just to finally reach home at around 6pm. When she reached home, it wasn’t a haven anymore because water has entered their house (which was considerably elevated compared to other areas in the vicinity) and they had to bring their stuff to the second floor. So, feeling tired, hungry and soaking wet, she continued to battle the elements.

My husband’s aunt suffered various inconveniences because yesterday of all the days was moving day for them. They swam in chest-deep water and traveled from Quezon City to Cavite from noon yesterday until 5am today.

Then, there were various discomforts and misadventures. Another friend was stranded at the Ateneo. The streets were impassable. She was finally fetched by her boyfriend at 2am. Of course, houses leaked here and there (like ours). One friend didn’t realize right away that there’s a leak over her book collections and some of them were damaged. My teddy bear collection was soaked due to the same occurrence. Electricity was out in most places. I’m lucky only our internet connection was out. It’s finally back this morning that’s why I have posted this.

To all my family and friends out there who in one way or another were affected by Ondoy, I hope you’re all safe now. Much as I would like to be with all of you, I hardly think that’s possible. But I want you to know that I’m just a call or text away. Let me know if there’s anything at all which I could do for you.

Fellow Filipinos, it is that time again when we are being called to reach out to our fellowmen in the spirit of brotherhood. Let us be one in this time of crisis. God bless us all!

All my life, I’ve had this notion that if you’re good and you live a good life, it follows that eternal happiness comes to you. How shallow my faith had been! How insane do I think God is to just hand out happiness to saint-wannabees? Besides, wasn’t the promise of eternal happiness tied up to eternal life? And isn’t eternal life given only to, well, let’s see… those who died?! So, I guess, the living has no hope for true happiness then. Now, this is depressing.

I suppose then that we have no business expecting our lives to always be happy. I suppose then that we simply have to live each day as it comes and not bother about how to be happy because in so doing we miss the chance to actually feel happy. It’s like one who anticipates a shooting star and has waited for so long and tilted his head up ‘til he finally had stiff neck. Then, he decides to lower his head for a few seconds to relieve the pain, and then the shooting star comes! He misses it. All that longing, all the waiting, and he misses it. Sadly, happiness comes when we least expect it, when we’re not looking, when we’re simply being and living.

I’ve learned that I am happiest when I simply take and live another day God has managed to give me. I find myself extra happy when I know that I’ve somehow managed to make the people around me happy. I feel a surge of happiness when I’ve done particularly well in whatever it is that I do. I feel a flush of joy when I hear laughter and cheer brought about by friendship shared. I breathe a contented sigh in knowing that I am still wrapped in loving arms when I sleep and I wake up in the same. I thank God above when I know that all the people I love and even those I do not are safe wherever they are. In the end, we realize that it doesn’t really take much to be happy if only we don’t expect so much from life.

As pessimistic or as fatalistic as this may sound, I’ve given up on wishing for the life I WANT. I’ve begun accepting that I’m actually just a pawn in this thing called life. God is the master. He rules. All my dilemmas have ended when I accepted this truth. There are no more dilemmas for me because I let Him choose for me. I don’t fight it anymore like I used to. I don’t bargain anymore for us to meet halfway. I know that in doing so, I made myself vulnerable to pain. But then, is there ever a life without pain? I decided to live with it for as long as the people who matter most in my life are right beside me. I have no more qualms about NOT BEING HAPPY. Happiness may be a bit overrated. Happiness may even be a myth. But what is real is life and love. That’s what I want.

Could it be that stupid as we are, we never really took time to live life well? Maybe, we simply went through the motions of living…never really taking time to be with our loved ones, letting them know how special they are, and even telling them even if it’s the corniest thing to say that we couldn’t live without them. Maybe, it’s because we are simply paralyzed with fear at the mere thought of it that we refuse to think it could ever happen to us. But it could. It would.

Sometimes, no matter how morbid it may sound, I think of my own death. How would I go? Would it be with a bang? Would I go silently into the night? Would my death be surrounded by controversies? Would I leave my family at peace or would my death bring them a trauma they’ll never truly overcome? I wish I could choose the way I’d go. Don’t you?

When my biological father died, I didn’t really feel that much pain at the beginning. How could I when I was just seven then? But as the years progressed and I went through the milestones of my life, I felt an emptiness which I know comes from not having my father during those important moments. Now, I still think of him and wonder what it could have been if he were here, but I no longer ache.

My step dad passed away recently. I never thought I’d be this lonely. After all, I never really felt close to him. We never talked much. We didn’t have much to say to each other… yet, he was ever present in our lives. He was the one who came for my college graduation. He took joy in the honor I received. He was also the one who gave me off during my wedding. He’s there for every triumph and every sorrow which ever came my way. I was likewise there through his great times and difficult times. So, would you say we didn’t share much? I realized just now that words are cheap when it comes to relationships that only families could understand.

My Tatay is gone. His death caused us utmost pain. It also taught me so many things I never thought I’d learn all in a span of days. First, life is too short to be procrastinating about. Second, people are too precious to be taken for granted in favor of anything. Third, no matter how highly you think of yourself, you would have to go through certain humiliating experiences that will purify you. Finally, I learned that only God could say that you’ve had enough and till he says so, all you can do is hang on and keep going because life although seemingly unfair, is still beautiful. Yes, it is, even if death is always lurking at the corners.

What does playing fair entail in this crazy world we live in? Does it mean being absolutely honest in dealing with every aspect of your life? What if total honesty means suffering dire consequences? Is this principle applicable when you’re dealing with our government? The answer is out there somewhere but at the moment, it is beyond me.

I’ve always been an honest citizen of this country. I’ve followed all the rules. I paid all my taxes religiously. I advocate the principles that are important in the development of our struggling nation. I even promote tourism and all that’s good in the Filipinos. So, tell me, why can’t the government just help me by approving my sickness benefit through SSS?! Again, the answer is beyond my reach.

I know that I am not exactly a person in dire need of assistance. But don’t I deserve to have a little assistance for at least being a good citizen? I also know I’m ranting like a fool right now.

It just upsets me so much that I continue to support a country which could not even support its citizens. No wonder my beloved has given up on this country! I’ve had many an argument with him trying to defend our sorry country. But he may be right. What does it really have to offer?

Sadly, even as I write what I could consider a traitorous essay against my nation, I still feel a certain attachment to it. I feel guilt. I feel compassion. Yes, I feel anger. I also, still, feel love. How this is possible is again beyond me.

I guess I’ll just have to give up my claim and let someone more deserving of the help get through and actually be helped by our equally helpless government. I’ll find some other means to get by. After all, I pride myself for being one of the assets of this nation. I am after all employed and capable of money-making ventures unlike a big percentage of the population which is submerged in poverty. Maybe I should even be thankful that I may never actually need assistance from this government which is so good in taking from its people but absolutely lousy in giving back anything.

If there’s one bright star shining for me, it’s that I’m not the last one remaining who still feels this way towards our country. Yes, we whine and berate this nation for all its ills, but we remain steadfast in our resolve to continue supporting it ‘til our last breath. I’ll probably not die like Rizal and be hailed like a hero but I know I’ll die knowing that even if this country has forsaken me, I have never forsaken it.

Speaking of the beautiful, our society has put much premium on beauty, but what exactly is our concept of beauty? What do we view as beautiful? What dictates upon our idea of beauty? Sadly, for many of us, it is the superficial picture of beauty as seen in media: flawless faces, long and straight hair, creamy complexion, and the slim and toned bodies. Anyone not possessing these qualities is not beautiful. Do you agree? I do hope not.

If you really think about it, how could this be possible for most Filipinos? We are naturally brown-skinned and one of our ancestors has extremely curly hair. So does this mean we are not beautiful anymore? For this reason, I beg to differ when it comes to the norms on beauty. I dare say that every Filipino is beautiful because beauty for me is NOT SKIN DEEP. In each of our hearts lies the true meaning of beauty. For me, beauty is equivalent to the goodness of your heart. Whenever I look at someone who has done a good deed, I see someone beautiful beyond compare. However, when I look at a physically beautiful yet foul-mannered individual, I cannot see anything beautiful. I conclude then that to be simply good is to be simply beautiful.

It is therefore essential for every person to strive to be good before he/she strives to be beautiful. When there is goodness, beauty follows. Believe me. I know.

We cry lots of tears, drench our pillows, use up all the tissue paper, develop eye bags bigger than snap sacks, irritate our nostrils by much blowing on already dried-out tissue paper, and feel terrible about ourselves enough to end it all. All for what? The so-called “beloved” of our sorry lives? Indeed, our lives are sorry if this is the pattern of our existence. What a life! What a waste…

Many women exist for their “better halves” who turn out to be the “worse halves”. These women let their lives revolve around the “god” of their lives–the men who gave them a ring symbolizing bondage and slavery in various forms and stages. The ones whose “I do’s” have long shipped out to Never-never land. Fitting place to go to, I guess, considering that they never truly grew into a man.

Why do many women bear all of these then? Why are many women such suckers for punishments? Don’t they get much of these during the dreaded monthly periods? Can’t women for once drop their aprons and cut the strings? Can’t we all just live without the thought of pleasing our men? It all just seems so unfair, not to mention ridiculous!

Do they who occupy most of our consciousness really give a damn about whether we have something to wear for tomorrow, if our clothes have been properly washed and ironed, if when we come home we’ll have something to eat, if our day had been tiring and trying, and if we need a massage or at least a cool drink? Honestly, do they?

Well, in all fairness, I have come across a number of men who have actually given a whole damn lot of thought to their women. They have also been genies and slaves to the women of their lives. They have after all been suckered, too, into wearing the ring of bondage. But sadly, you can’t trap them for long. Sooner or later, someone comes along and releases them from the spell of the now considered evil witches of their lives. Soon, your three sweet wishes are gone before they’re even fully granted.

So, should your genie in a bottle decide to stay for good, you should be constantly on the look-out for possible bottle snatchers. I’m willing to bet my last devaluating peso that many would kill for the bottle to be theirs (I’m still talking about men, ok?) if that one is a keeper.

Now, should your genie decide to bid you adieu, then let go. Maybe it has truly exhausted all its power to make your dreams come true. Let it find a new master. Surely, you, too, will stumble upon another bottle as you walk along the shores of life (Haaay! Sounds pathetic!)But whatever you do, don’t break the bottle or curse him for another hundred years!

Genie or no genie, life goes on. Women like you and I must after all have better things to do than wait for wish-granters to make our dreams come true. So, if you’re still caught in that ditch between reality and fantasy, if you’re still asking yourself if you dug gold or shit, then you need to slap yourself hard…real hard!

Everybody is busy taking a sip of the nectar of love. Nobody bothers to look up ‘til finally the cup has been emptied down to the last drop. Everyone is drunk in the exhilarating feeling of being in love until after some time they finally sober up to realize that love has gone and left them cold.

I don’t know why it’s so easy for people to claim that they’re “in-love” or that they love someone. I don’t know why people casually throw the word love in the air together with the words flowers, kiss, pimple, coffee, night-out, sex, lust, horny, pain, hurt, infidelity, and all the random words one could possibly utter. Do they know what love really is? Do I?

After 30 plus years of existence, I realized that I have no business talking about what love is. The sad fact is, I don’t know. The sadder fact is that nobody probably knows. But the saddest thing is everyone acts as if he/she is an expert when it comes to love.

So, after the hullabaloo of it all, comes the tears, the hurt, the grief, the anger, the frustration, the desperation, the agony. But does it stop here? Am I saying that love is only pain and sorrow? Have I been so badly burned to convince all of you that there’s nothing to it except all the negativity that came out of Pandora’s box? That would be sad, right? No, that would be downright pathetic. I have no right either to talk about love that way.

What then could I talk about? I guess I could talk about the cycle one feels when one drinks coffee. I’ve heard people say that it’s a lot like love.

It starts from a feeling of excitement. It’s like you’ve drunk too much coffee and you’re all tingly inside. You can’t sit still. You feel like talking non-stop. You think you are entitled to feel anything and everything. Then, you find yourself in a state of bliss. Everything is rosy and nothing could ever dampen your mood as long as you’re there, sipping the luscious brown liquid. You feel perky, too cheerful and bubbly, much to the annoyance of others who have not yet drunk their own cups. Then, the coffee starts getting cold. You’re just halfway through it but it has gone cold. You start to feel a little short-changed, but, hey, it’s still good! You just need to drink faster and greedier so you’d still feel its warmth. But no matter what you do, it’s just not as good as it was when you had it first. You feel a bit down now. You probably need a fresh cup but you hold back because you’ve had quite enough for the day. But it eats you up. That yearning to have another warm cup is just too much to bear. As you empty your cup, you also feel empty in a way. You’ve got to make that all important decision of whether you’re having another cup or not. It’s just so tempting even if it means you’ll have to go through the cycle again. You hope and pray that some time in your coffee drinking sprees, you’ll find a cup that fills itself and never empties. That maybe, just maybe, there is a cup where coffee stays warm all the time. Or that maybe, you’ll be totally satiated that you’ll never crave for another cup. That’s my coffee experience. If you are quick, you’ll know that I’m right when I said love is pretty much like that.

If anybody asks me about love, I’d say, have a good cup a coffee then tell me what it feels like. But nobody is asking me.

They say that our best link to memories is our sense of smell. For some unknown reason, the smell of rain or the aftermath leaves such a familiar, overwhelming feeling of contentment and happiness. Yet, as the heat comes back up, I feel a sense of great loss. It’s like something beautiful has mysteriously been taken away from me by an envious soul whose sole desire is to displease me.

Call it stereo-typical but rain, glass windows, and steaming coffee in a big mug are the items in my scene of perfect comfort. Then, for the ultimate bliss, when the rain stops, I’d love to peek out and just breathe in the freshness of the air. Then, in my mind I know that the memories will come pouring in again like the torrents of rain pouring out of the sky.

I guess I really love the feel of water, too, pitter-pattering on my bare skin. I’m not talking of the endless rains or the ones that are so unpredictable in their intensity. A good downpour which stops as suddenly as it came… one that is enough to wash away the pain…one that could help ease the heat… that’s the best rain for me.

I just wish that for every time I get to feel all tingly after a moment of rain, I could bottle the feeling and save it for the dry spells that come so often in life. Sometimes I wish I could capture that which seems so fresh and new inside of me so that whenever I feel old, worn-out and tired of trudging through life, I could just take a sip and feel greatness welling up. But I guess, that’s the wonder and beauty of the rain. Call it a boon or a bane, but it is free. It comes as it pleases and leaves pretty much the same way. In its wake, it could leave life or take it. I’ll never fully understand its tremendous power, but I’ll always love it and await its coming with eagerness.