A Confession Article
Posted at 05:55 PM

I am a slant-eyed boy. People claim I am way too skinny for my 5'10" height. They do not fail complimenting on my nose. My hair was radically dyed. My skin is yellow. I am a Filipino.

The world often mistakes me as a Chinese. Sometimes, I am a Korean. Not that I am against them, but the Japanese have a certain sharp anlge in their English accent that is being mimicked to me by strangers and by strangers' children. I am cool about it. In fact, I am happy about it. Allured people satisfy my vanity. This fake foreign presence of mine gives me day-to-day experiences. It also leaves me with a bothering question.

Last 2003, the Philippines embraced one of Asia's most celebrated male groups. I guess Taiwan's F4, composed of four strongly Asian idols, excited me at first. Eventually, they annoyed me. I had an untidy long hair during F4's peak. Everyone in that group also had an untidy long hair. It was summer back then. There were no classmates to do the mocking. Other people and my relatives pioneered in doing so. One instance exhausted my patience. I was waiting for a jeepney in Manila. Meters away from me, there were these girls my age who kept on shouting, "Dao! Dao!! (F4's Jerry Yan)" I knew it was me they were shouting at because when I looked at them, they giggled. As I finally rode the jeepney, I raised my hand striking a dirty sign. I guess I have to admit that I am a snob stranger.

Maybe, I have the right to regard every pleasurable incident I experience as a fake foreigner to my self-proclaimed anorexia nervosa. Three years ago, I started sculpting my present physique. From my ninth up to my sixteenth year of existence, I did not know what confidence meant. I was a very fat boy. I even reach a 189-pound weight when I was 15. During those times, I did not look like a modern Asian fashionista. I was more like a Japanese Zumo wrestler.

I never went out. I had no sets of friends. I was scared to look at the mirror. I just had two sanctuaries: our kitchen, and my bedroom. My slimming down was effortless. I just had to wait for that heaven-sent mosquito to bite me. Dengue fever was dengue fever. If I did not have the knowledge, the family, and the money, I am most probably gone by now. I survived the fatal illness. Now, I am more grateful to its effects rather than my surviving it. It is amazing to think that I somehow managed to tranfer some 60 pounds to a mosquito.

Now, I think I am over-exposed. I just want to make the most out the new, enhanced me. But there is this fear of returning to my previous built. Food, or the over-indulging on it, is the constant source of my depression. A couple of town fiestas made me forecefully throw up whatever I ate. I had a two-year rice-less period, I cannot eat without a paper towel (it gets rid of excess oil), I forgot how softdrinks taste like, and I despise chocolates. They say I am missing half of my life. How I wish they knew how it felt to be called a hunched-back pig.

My evolution was in time for the start of my college life. No one knew about my traumatic past. On the very first day of classes, I first heard a fairly new compliment. I was used to hearing the words pig, fatso, jello, and flab. "Are you a Chinese?" My very first friend in the University of Santo Tomas asked me. I then heard the same question from different classmates for the next two hours.

Just recently, now that I am in my third year, I lost my ID. I had to show my registration form to the security guard so that I could enter our building. When he read the form he said with a smile in a hey-we-were-asked-to-pamper-students-like-you tone, "Ok, what is your name?" I answered with a fluent Filipino twang, "Jonas Polines, nawawala kasi yung ID ko eh. (Jonas Polines, my ID's lost.)" The guard wiped off his smile and instructed me to apply for a new ID.

I am used to the stares different people give me. One time, I was fixing myself in front of the mirror of a certain mall's comfort room when an old man asked me to open his tightly-sealed perfume bottle. He did not see me completely at first but he knew I was there beside him. I saw that his efforts in opening the bottle were useless.
When he could not control himself anymore he said, still without looking towards my direction, "Pare, pwedeng paki-" He cut himself upon seeing me through the mirror. Then he changed languages. "Please open, please open," he handed me the bottle with a polite smile. I wanted to laugh but I decided not to because I wanted to continue the pretension. Indeed, the bottle seemed impossible to open. When at last I decided to give up and hand him back his thing, I said, "Ang hirap!" With a last desperate try, the seal broke loose. "Salamat!" The old man said with a surprised smile. I guess the incident had something to do with the fisherman's hat I was wearing.

Even my own sister mistook me as a Japanese once. It was Fathers' Day and we were to celebrate on a Hotel's restaurant. It seemed to me that we were the only Filipino family there at that time. The place was populated by the Chinese and their likes. Now this sister of mine came from work and just had to follow us to the venue itself. I was by the seafood section when I spotted her. When she was inches away from me, I shoved the ceramic plate that I was holding to her face. She stared at me blankly. I forgot that she has not seen my newly-dyed hair at that moment yet. Then she recognized me. For a moment, she thought she was a victim of a Japanese's certain attitude. I was delighted.

I can say that I am happy with this image. Sometimes, I am becoming so attached to my pretensions that I am actually forgetting who I really am, where I really came from, and what I really should project in public. The public condemned me before, I am alluring them now. I am enjoying every jeepney ride I am having because ordinary people look at me. Not because I am god-like or too-good-to-be-true but because I look different. I was deprived of being conceited back then. I am afraid I am an extremely one now.

I think that it is more flattering on my part. Real foreigners or real half foreigners won't mind the attention because they know to themselves that they really are noticeable. There is no single drop of foreign blood on my blood. But life is really balanced. I am basically contented with my social life now but something is bothering me. It is a question that never struck me until recently.

How come I am like this? My dad is an Ilonggo. My mom is a Tagala. The age gap between me and my sisters is amazing. I am the youngest. The eldest is 29 years old. The other one is 28. I am 19. I am the only male. They all look perfectly Filipino.

Life's possibilites are endless. I am not closing anything for revelations. Before the moment I asked and learned that we have no, if not extremely far, foreign ancestors, I was undoubtful of my legitimacy. Now I think I have all the right to get bothered.
9 Stories - Salinger Sound of Silence

Bad Hair Year
Posted at 11:11 PM

I miss my hair. The length. Do you think I made a crazy decision to cut it short? I personally think so. Crazy crazy crazy.

Yes or What?



9 Stories In My Dreams

julfe is contagious
Posted at 07:16 PM

here is the cause of my remaining sanity.

maybe, here is the reason of a pending insanity.

______________
dubdub dub dub.
my heartbeat
whenever we're a meter apart.
dingdong ding dong.
and yes, the bells do meet
in my head, in my heart.
i shall lay you down
on a great bed of dreams.
i shall tenderly wake you up
in the midst of a gray, romantic sky.
so vague and yet so faint,
you're a piece no genius could
ever paint...
_______________________________

don't tell her about this entry, 3jrn3.

smile, life is good. really.
9 stories Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore

rejection? im more than ready.
Posted at 08:34 AM

I fear rejection not because I desperately want the person who will do it to me but because I am afraid of getting ridiculed.

guess I am a negative firgure to you now.

You must appreciate me, I was honest.

I know I will be rejected by you-know-who. It's just too clear not to be felt.

Sorry about this, julfe, but during the acquaintance party, we shared that exactly same shirt. Now it seems we would be sharing a perfectly same fate.

And I don't really care.

I like the person. I respect her decisions. I would never fish for compassion. I will just gently accept the mockings her friends would give me (if ever there would be, i hope not though.)..

shit, i'm messing up again.
organize my thoughts? anyone?
9 stories sound of silence

thanks
Posted at 09:20 AM

fine.
so i'm in love.
now that's cliche to you.
sometimes i think it's a big cliche to me too.

anyway, i just don't want to post anything about my feelings right now. you all know my state, and i never felt so thankful in my life (for the support and the encouragements..).

TALKING IN GENERAL...

During my younger, fat years, I thought that entering into a relationship was nothing but shit in it's most ridiculous appearance (hah). beacuse err-- u know to yourself that there are huge chances that your partner will not be your wife/husband..
so what's the point?
well i'm positive about it now because it's like, Hey, this person accompanied me on my 19th year..

hah? gulo. shoot.
9 stories In My Dreams

09154068020
Posted at 10:27 AM

I know it's an ugly Globe number but what can I fucking do? Pls save it for the mean time while I look for a more pleasant one.


To Don, Paolo, Joanarc, Ria, and the likes,

Count me fucking in.

My cellphone's fucking gone.



I am for the unity of all slashed bag owners.
9 stories Music Box Dancer

ChinaTown
Posted at 12:19 AM

I never felt so intimidated by the public in months.

Sheena, AA, Tin, Cherry, and Jose ahhmmm dragged me to go with them to binondo earlier tonight in search for a fresh-from-the-factory priced paper for two major journ publications.

It was as if I was in outerspace.

Chinese people where everywhere.

NO, Im not against them. Not at all. It's just that...

They remind me deeply that I'm fake. And forever will be.

I was a impostor without me knowing it. No, no, I'm not boasting. How can I boast a fact that is killing me.

Then, again, the possibility of a conspiracy behind my legitimacy was unearthed.

I wish I was born looking undeniably Filipino.
9 stories Canon in D

Compose my sticky entry
Posted at 08:42 PM

For a start: I was alone on a jeepney when this very poor woman told us, the passengers, "Yang anak ko na yan (pointing to her son who was sitting on the far corner of the vehicle), sumusuka nga yan ng bulate eh. GUMAGALAW PA!"

How I held myself from laughing so hard.
I failed.
I just knew the passengers were all looking at me in dismay.
___

Tell me, what's the craziest thing that ever happened to you?

I want to laugh. (-:


9 stories escape

Tere replies
Posted at 12:07 AM

I texted The Girl,

"Hindi, hindi ko kayang huwag kang pansinin sa Monday. Ikaw lang naman ang masungit eh."

The Girl replied,

"Dati na nman akong ganito e.. Ang sabhin mo, ikaw lng ang biglang nahiya kaya feeling mo masungit ako.. But u knw,u cn alwys approach me,bt u'r jst 2 shy..ü"

This may be shallow to you.
This is the best thing that ever happened to me in months.
9 stories temple of the king

hindi ko siya sinabayan, hinatid ko...
Posted at 08:03 PM

thank God for the chance,

and the courage.

for the fact that we take

the same route.

for the sweet reality

that we live in the same city.

whew. im just plain happy.
9 stories canon in d