[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 12 most recent journal entries recorded in
|Wednesday, August 20th, 2008|
|[makipag] call for submissions!
Makipag is now accepting artwork,
poems, plays, stories, editorials, music, and more
for its first community ZINE!
Please include your name, contact info, and a brief bio with your submission.
You may also submit work anonymously
(but leave your info so we may contact you about your submission).
Any images must be greater than 300dpi.
Send all work to
Deadline for all submissions is
SEPT 30 2008
Thank you for reading,
and please pass this along to folks who may be interested!
Amalia Aquino, Publications
What is makipag?
Makipag is a student organization at the University of Washington, Seattle. Makipag fosters a community of support and inspiration for artistic expression within the Filipino American locality. We encourage individual and collaborative endeavors that aim to render this community visible, heard, and felt within the larger context of society and the arts.
|Friday, November 2nd, 2007|
In Taipei en route to the Philippines.
..."let's get together, yeah yeah yeah!"
|Monday, June 11th, 2007|
|Thorton Wilders, "The Skin of Our Teeth"
Antrobus: [to Gladys] You go back to the hotel and take those horrible things off.
Gladys: [pert] Before I go, I've got something to tell you, — it's about Henry.
Mrs. Antrobus: [claps her hands peremptorily] Stop your noise, — I'm taking her back to the hotel, George. Before I go I have a letter.... I have a message to throw into the ocean. [Fumbling in her handbag.] Where is the plagued thing? Here it is.
She flings something — invisible to us — far over the heads of the audience to the back of the auditorium.
Mrs. Antrobus: It's a bottle. And in the bottle's a letter. And in the letter is written all the things a woman knows.
It's never been told to any man, and it's never been told to any woman, and if it reaches its destination, a new time will come. We're not what books and plays say we are. We're not what advertisements say we are. We're not in the movies and we're not on the radio.
We're not what you're all told and what you think we are: We're ourselves. And if any man can find one of us he'll learn why the whole universe was set in motion. And if any man harm any one of us, his soul — the only soul he's got — had better be at the bottom of that ocean, — and that's the only way to put it. Gladys, come here. We're going back to the hotel.
|Sunday, June 3rd, 2007|
|Dili na makasulti
Ni Jose F. Lacaba
Dito, sa siyudad ng Cagayan de Oro,
sa kalyeng ang romantikong pangalan
ay Yacapin, malapit sa ilog--
dito ako ipinanganak,
pero dili na ako makasulti ng Bisaya--
tama ba ang aking mga salita?
Dinhi ako nagdako,
dinhi sa Cagayan de Oro.
Dito lumpias ang uang sampung taon.
Pero dili na ako makasulti,
makasabot na lang ng dyutay,
ng gamay--ano ba ang tama?--
sa totoo lang, paisa-isang salita lang--
dili na talaga makasulti.
Ang ama ko'y anak ng Bohol,
at Bisaya ang salita namin
sa bahay sa kalye Yacapin--
pero Tagalog ang ina ko,
at hindi ako nakaligtas
sa walang-katuturang panunukso
ng mga kalaro at kababata;
"Tagalog, luglog! Tagalog, luglog!"
Sa utak, may sumusungaw na gunita:
napaaway ako, nagdugo ang ilong.
Hindi ko matandaan
kung iyon ay may kinalaman
sa di-deklaradong digmaan
ng mga katutubong wika.
Sampung taon ako
nang sumakay kami ng barko
para tuluyang umalis sa Cagayan de Oro
at manirahan sa Pateros
na bayang sinalangan ng aking ina.
Madali kong nalimutan--
ang wika ng kaye Yacapin.
May narinig akong bagong kantiyaw:
"Bisaya, madaya! Bisaya, madaya!"
Maaaring hindi ako
ang binabato ng tukso
dahil hindi ako napaaway.
Ambot sa imo, pero
dahil na ako makasulti karon ng Bisaya.
Nanguluntoy siya sa dila.
Hindi lamang wika ang nawala.
Sa kaibuturan ng diwa,
may nalalabing mga buhay na ugat
na lagi't laging nag-aapuhap
ng yayakaping gunita.
Mailap ang gunita.
|Tuesday, October 31st, 2006|
i've got everything she has...except...she's thinner.
autumn, my favorite favorite season.
what would i do without my jackets and layers? i would miss them.
chicken roti--pam's kitchen (trinidad carribean cuisine) 50th and University Way NE.
|Saturday, September 23rd, 2006|
I've only been gone for 2 months and the Ave. has changed. New restaurants have emerged where old ones used to be. Shalimar moved to where the Nepali restaurant used to be. The peroshki place is now a Japanese bakery. A new vibrantly painted Trinidad Carribean restaurant replaces Shushi Express on 50th and University Way. The Crepe place is now vacant, knowthewords
used to go there often and a Greek restaurant is being finished.
I used to have this 4 year goal at Udub and that was to eat at all the restaurants on the Ave, and I say "used to" because I dont' think it'll actually happen now that I'm on my final year.
|Thursday, September 14th, 2006|
|somewhere above puget sound
Bound for Sea-Tac airport, 9:37am the 14th in the Philippines, 6:37pm the 13th in Seattle.
The captain just announced our descend towards Seattle, I opened the window shade expecting darkness but was greeted by sunshine.
It already feels different, the clouds even look different, no more humidity, no more hard rain, no more heat. Seattle when I arrive will be 56 degrees. The water below looks cold and uninviting unlike the warm tropical waters of Alegria.
Leaving Cebu wasn't hard, hugged my cousins, said my goodbyes. It was different, I wasn't as sad, I could sense my return. My chest wasn't heavy, no hollowness inside, suprisingly no tears. I was excited to return to Seattle...to return to my family.
But now, now as we descend...now comes the tears...why NOW? I wasn't expecting this to happen. I will miss Manila. Will definitely miss Cebu. The office of PCIJ where I spent many long days...god I can no longer hold back the tears, the page blurs in front of me.
I hate how I can return to this country, leaving a place I hold very close to my heart behind. It is a blessing and a curse. I have dreaded this moment of reflection, knowing I would breakdown. The last two months and one week to be exact have been a blur, days of confusion, excitment, and Red Horse...mwhahaha.
Looking back now, I feel that I have accomplished nothing. More of a waste of my time? I don't know. I should have done more, seen more, I expected much more and I'm coming back empty handed. What did I learn? Did I learn anything? Have I found myself? Was that why I went back? Have I been transformed? What does that even mean?
What about death? People would say I would've done great things. But I'm here on this plane, alive and well...will I do great things? What do people expect of and from me?
I will disappoint you all.
Tears of joy, regret, despair. PADD, FASA, graduation, Fulbright, money...I can't handle the pressures. I have experiences to share but what have I done that is worth telling?
I can see the I-90 bridge...we're getting closer.
We've finally landed. I'm back home. Home? Is this home?
Back in the first world, it is what I've known for fourteen years of my life. This woman next to me probably thinks I'm crazy...why is this stupid girl crying and writing.
I feel thankful, grateful of ahing the opportunity to experience and live the life that I live.
I don't think I'm making any sense right now.
I feel cursed with a wound I've inflicted on myself.
Bottled tears of memory, history and uncertainty.
Shit. Need to stop crying, immigrations/customs...need to look normal.
|Wednesday, August 23rd, 2006|
|a day with edward
edward came and picked me up today at PCIJ.
bought two books at popular book store: mi ultimo adios volume 1 and 2 ni dr. jose rizal (in foreign and local translations).
found out that the street i live on, scout de guia, is named after kidlat tahimik's brother who died in a plane crash some years back.
|Monday, August 21st, 2006|
|Purchased Readings So Far
Noli Me Tangere- Locsin Translation
El Filibusterismo- Locson Translation
El Filibusterismo- comic book
Venerating without Understanding- Renato Constantino
Days of Disquiet Nights of Rage- Jose F. Lacaba
Waiting for Mariang Makiling: Essays on Philippine Cultural History-Resil B.
U.G.: An Underground Tale: The Journey of Edgar Jopson and the First Quarter Storm Generation- Benjamin Pimentel
State of War- a novel by Ninotchka Rosca
Plus various other publications from the Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism that I've already sent home with Manoy.
|Wednesday, August 16th, 2006|
|Friday, July 7th, 2006|
|on the plane
I'm sitting next to a man from nepal and he's flying to kathmandu...he is so fuckin' creepy. leans over and moes his hand into my space...and i like my space...my bubble and he crossed it! shit...he was all pretending to sleep and all.
he asks me if i'm married and how he likes filipinas cuz' his friend got married to one. i was so freaked out and cound't sleep, now i'm still freakin out while i'm writing this in the bathroom in the air plane good God pelase let me off this damn plane!
soooo glad i'm off the plane now
|Friday, April 14th, 2006|
This is Carmel's Livejournal. She only made it so she could post in uwpadd