The Poet, The Teacher and The Master Fisher

Mr. Noel P. Tuazon

Today, I will share to you my fair share of experience as a student of the teacher who greatly influenced my life as a student, a human being and as a lover of art and literature. I will not focus the lens of my story to my each prolific encounter with Sir Tuazon but rather I will share to you the things this teacher taught that were mostly beyond the understanding of the normal people. I am not saying that my teacher is abnormal, I just want to highlight that this person is EXCEPTIONAL in his craft.

Sir Tuazon once said, the hardest thing in teaching Creative Writing is teaching your students to imagine. Indeed, it is really hard to imagine especially if you want your piece to stand out among the outputs of your classmates. There are like so many subjects, topics and metaphors that were written already like love, death, friendship and life but you need to go away from what is mundane and prosaic and push the limits of your imagination. I remembered when we complained about how hard it was to write a poem or something and we asked him for suggestions. Well, he gave us one and it was quite a dare for us. He said, walk around naked in your house, be one with nature and take of all the physical inhibitions. In that way, we can unleash the sleeping poet inside our mind.

         I’ll always remember these words “Do not settle for mediocrity” this has been our motto for every poem or story we wrote. That is why we always see to it that our work is a calibrated one. Sir Tuazon is the kind of guy that would really scrutinize your work from your style, grammar and choice of words. That’s why if your piece of work happens to be the chosen work to be critiqued, just prepare yourself, check your heart rate and your blood pressure because you might not want to collapse right then and there when Sir Tuazon starts to highlight your work’s flaws, inconsistencies and ungrammatical statements. Luckily, we didn’t get that “This is not a piece of art” comment and I assure you that the notion learning from one’s mistake was very applicable to us that time. Well, Sir Tuazon might be very strict when it comes to writing but he sure was very appreciative of our works in a way that he never failed to scribble some notes about our works. I remember at that time, our goal was not to get the highest mark but to watch him do the “speechless-I-Like-It look” after reading our work and this may sound bragging, but I was one of the few who get to see it after he read my CNF, The Cliff. It was funny because my work was not finished yet because I haven’t decided yet the title of my CNF and it was Sir Tuazon who suggested that how about The Cliff. When my work was chosen to be evaluated during the workshop, I immediately put the The Cliff as the title of my CNF. Aside from my Creative Writing subject, I was also his student in his Literature classes which allowed me to play different renowned literary characters like Dona Dolores in the drama Wanted a Chaperon, Consuelo in Forever and many Greek figures.

I consider Sir Tuazon as one of the few teachers who really inspired me to do my craft with the best that I have and I considered myself as one of the lucky ones who was privileged enough to be seated in one of his classes because it’s not every day you get the chance to be mentored by a Sir Tuazon. It was when I was his student that I became more passionate about reading classic literature books and my fanaticism of Greek mythology was intensified. I felt like Alice in the Wonderland every time I was in his class because it was always a journey of enthralling discovery and after his class; I am back to my humdrum student life. I never had an opportunity to express my gratitude to Sir Tuazon because I don’t want to have those prying eyes focused on me so, Sir if you are reading this thank you for the criticisms, thank you for the inspiration and thank you for sharing to us your world.

If you want to know more about Sir Noel Tuazon, here’s our output of the interview with the one and only Noel P. Tuazon.

An Interview with the Poet from Bingag

By: Mary Cielo Padillo Joanne Tajan

Noel P. Tuazon, a name not known to many but the name widely praised by the literary society. Every day we see him in the corridors, in hallways and in the classrooms with his heavy-looking black backpack walking like an ordinary teacher teaching ordinary subjects but behind that ordinary image lies the extraordinary man who conquered and shook the world of poets with his Cebuano poems and short stories. Recently, Mr. Noel P. Tuazon won the first prize in the Palanca Awards for his piece “Gutom”. This was not the first time he won in a literary competition, he won several awards but despite the fame he remains humble and a true product of the notion “Let my works speak of who I am”.

Everything started by reading. The good professor started his writing prowess the moment he started reading. He said that in every good book he read, he always aspire to write something about it or write something that is better than that book. He studied the style and the way of how was it written. He said that when you read you start to create a story in your mind and that was how he started writing. At the age of 19, he officially started writing. His first poem was entitled “Rain in June”. The poem was about the rain during his birthday and how he had celebrated such momentous event in an ordinary way. Professionally, he started writing at the age of 27 when he went to Manila to hone his craft by taking his master’s degree in literature.

Master fishers. Walt Whitman is his first love specially Whitman’s “The Leaves of Grass”. The professor said that he had read it three times already but he still had the same fascination as the very first time he had read it. Later on, he fell in love with the short stories and poems of the famous American writer Edgar Allan Poe. Among his master fishers are Carlos Bulosan,  Cirilo F. Bautista, T.S. Elliott and E.E. Cummings. One of his teacher even commented one time that his work is like that of E.E Cummings. When asked how he felt about the comment, he said, it is a privilege because it is E.E Cummings but it would be better if you are known because of your imprint.

Palanca Awards. He won two first prizes and three third prizes in Palanca Awards. When he first joined the Palanca in 2001 he submitted three entries but none of it won. So he mellowed a bit and made a comeback in 2003 in his “Kundat sa Unang Gugma” which won third prize in the Palanca. In 2007, he won again third in the Palanca. He brought home for the first time the first prize in 2012 in his “Duhiraw” and the following year he won again placing third in his “Padre Botox”. This year he won the first prize again and when asked how it feels to win another first prize he said, He was happy but it is just an extension of the happiness because the moment you have finished your craft it feels like falling in love for the first time. The momentum of happiness is not when you win it’s when you made something, it’s when you write something. He added that everytime he finished his work he would wake his wife asking her to join his festive mood.

“Gutom”. It is a social poem. In this poem, he used Palanca as a metaphor. It is a story about a writer who won the Palanca Awards yet to everyone he is a nobody. The privilege of being famous, rich and well-acclaimed is enjoyed by the wealthy people, the T.V personalities and the comedians but not for the writers. The writer is just a nobody and to Sir Tuazon it is gutom (Hunger). The hunger of having the privilege to be acknowledged in the society and to give justice to what they have contributed to humanity. Those people are just entertaining the society but here comes a writer promoting awareness of what is happening and making difference rest in the shadows of anonymity. “Gutom” is about the argument of yes the writer won but during the Palanca Awards it is not the artist who were being recognized but the rich people, the elite and the famous. The Palanca was not held in honor for the artists but organized for the rich.

The best so far. Sir Tuazon treats all his works as the best because he threats them as his children but he said that he can’t deny the fact that the latest for the meantime becomes the best and when he writes another one it becomes the best. Right now, he still considers “Gutom” as the best but when the time comes that he will finished his “Bruno” probably, the approximation of his appreciation will be changed.

The Metaphor. When asked what is his life’s metaphor Sir Tuazon answered “Kung metaphor ko, I am a rain, I like being sad than being happy. In fact, in that I can write everything because in sadness I can write happy stories, in my smile you can feel my sadness…”

The Imprint. Before we parted, Sir Tuazon left these words “ Read, read, read. By reading you are imagining, by simply imagining you are creating your own world and by creating your own world you can change what is going on in your own society or what is going on in your world…Reading is the very birthplace of writing.”

Here are some articles and works of Noel P. Tuazon,

http://www.hnu.edu.ph/hnnews/index.php?office=31&artno=65&vol=100&ish=1

http://www.spot.ph/print_article.php?id=46480

http://balaybalakasoy.blogspot.com/2015/04/eskina.html

http://www.spot.ph/the-feed/57180/64th-palanca-awards-honors-47-filipino-literary-artists

Would like to thank Sir Tuazon for the interview, Zorah Marie Barrera for the trailer and Joan Tajan.

FAT GYPSY TRAVELS: A Playlist for Summer 2016

723, 600 seconds of non-stop thinking of our students’ well-being, 12, 060 minutes of molding our learners’ mind, and 201 days of inspiring our students and to pay for those seemingly stressful days, we are given 3 days, 180 minutes and 10, 600 seconds to loosen up ourselves and just have some real fun in a nirvana far away from the prying society. In this year’s teachers’ educational tour, the administration chose to explore the Queen City of the South, Cebu. Cebu might have some famous and noteworthy summer destinations but the team BTC figuratively dragged their feet to the south part of the city. In this part, we can feast our eyes to the lovely white beaches, old churches and beautiful people. I have to include people because we have met a lot of people who have perfected our #summer2k16.

“One team, One Summer”

                I always equate good music to good times, so in my narration of this venture of ours, I would like to give you the beat that help us slightly nullify the savage summer heat. A good playlist is always part of a good adventure. Top of my playlist is ABS-CBN’S 2004 station ID, the One beat, One Summer. The beat is perfect for the seemingly incessant land travels we have and besides, it speaks for our travel as one family.

Day 1- March 28, 2016

The BTC Family together with the A.R Sisters who were running the dormitory

That single person who can do the Tango with you.
Glendaleine and I outside the dormitory. (c)Joseph Munalem

The first day of our tour centered in the city first. Our first stop was the St. Rita Dormitory. Our reverend sisters, Sr. Josephine Ativo, A.R. and Sr. Josephine Facinabao, introduced us to the different A.R. sisters who were there. We were there for a short time. We said our hellos, took some photos and said our heartfelt goodbyes afterwards. And let’s not forget the Easter egg chocolates our reverend sisters gave us because it really stuffed my rumbling tummy. After munching those chocolates, we proceeded to the shuttle feeling super hyper as ever. Honestly, I didn’t know the itinerary of our destination. It might sound utterly stupid to be oblivious about such important thing but it spiced things a bit because with every stop, it felt like fascinating things will follow.

Amidst the depressing snippets of the city life, the coaster rolled its way to our next destination which was the Cebu Metropolitan Cathedral.  The most extraordinary thing happened here. The BTC family were approaching to the cathedral’s jubilee door. I was ahead of them because I want to take some photos of them candidly walk

(c)Joseph Munalem

ing to the door and suddenly to my left side, a group of children were screaming and running towards us while saying “magpapicture mi!” As a fellow who gulps 3-4 cups of coffee a day, I was frantically startled by the children’s behavior. But when I looked closely to these children they looked so genuinely happy. They were not begging for alms. They just wanted to pose a picture with us. They were in chaos. They grabbed Bea as if she is their long lost sister, they hugged our reverend sisters and they smiled as if we are some old acquaintance. Subsequently, we went inside the cathedral said our prayers and then proceeded to the adjacent establishment, the Cathedral Museum.

The playful kids trying to grab Bea around. (c)Joseph Munalem

Our dear teachers and sisters with the kids.

The Cathedral Museum is just across the street, if you are facing the cathedral. We were welcomed by Dr. Hazel Maratas . She explained descriptively the nature of our trip for the day like what will happen, where are we going and when are we eating. Before the tour started, we were oriented first about the team who are going to be with us, the protocols to be followed and the ideals of the museum. When we were inside the museum, I can’t really fathom the feeling. It felt like so surreal and at the same time so sad while seeing those artifacts. I bet that back to the time during the Spanish era those bells, those flower made shells meant nothing to the people. Now, those are our only glimpse of how grand that part of our history was.

Inside the museum, there was a wooden door and the moment you enter that door, all cameras should be turned off. The first thing you will see is the chapel. There laid the Carmen Collection which consists of the tabernacle, gradas, and altar panels. You can also see a rolleta which has many bells on it and when it was rolled, the bells sounded like chimes that echoed from a cave. In the second floor of the museum, all the memorabilia from letters, souvenirs and stamps are orderly showcased. In every artifact, there is a written explanation posted outside the glass. What really hooked my interest is the letter from St. Teresa. You can really see the waning ink. . After roaming around the second floor, we went straight to the garden which is located at the back of the old building. The landscape is promising but the location of the Mercedes- Benz is quite alarming. The car is not in its best appearance and is shaded in a green tent which I think is a complete disaster.

“We keep this love in a photograph

We made these memories for ourselves

Where our eyes are never closing

Hearts are never broken

Times forever frozen still”

-Photograph, Ed Sheeran

                Anything that is captured by the camera’s lens will remain forever that way. The smiles, the pain the stares or any emotion will be kept intact in a photograph. That’s why second in my playlist is Ed Sheeran’s Photograph because how I wish preserving a house would be as easy as capturing a moment.  When we arrived to the site of the 1730 Jesuit House, I was utterly disappointed. Why is this a construction warehouse? Then, out of nowhere, the curate of the museum appeared and led us to the room where you can see a diorama that occupied the entire room. Vivid as the diorama the vandalisms in the wall are.

Foul words and names of Filipino movies were painted in the wall by the former occupants of the room, the construction workers.

The curate of the Museum. Unfortunately, I forgot his name.

The museum is not only showcasing how it was back to Jesuit reign but it also opened our eyes to the tides of times it had surpassed. Like the vandalism, the renovations and the presence of the warehouse.


Inside the house, a whole new timeline was sashayed to us. Wooden chairs, chandeliers, a very comfortable sala and a one grandiose dining room. There were also pieces of how modern technology was back then. There was a telephone, an electric fan and a typewriter.I was in the office part of the house where accordingly the master would look over his workers through the window. I then let the aura bit my nerves and let the melancholic toxin flow in my nerves I let out a deep sigh and thought what could have been the master’s point of view while staring at those dug coins, tea cups and some remnants of the Jesuit House?

One of the bedroom in the house.

The very detailed kitchen in the house. The arrangement
 and the utensils are observed based from ho it was before.

The dug artifacts along the grounds of the warehouse.

           The next destination we explored was the Chapel of the Holy Relics of Tabor Hill. The chapel intrigued me at first because of the name Mt. Tabor. For all I know is that it’s a significant place for our Christian faith since it is believed to be the site where the Transfiguration happened.

When we disembarked from our coaster, we proceeded right away to the receiving area which was the chapel. Heavily adorned with gold leaves, the chapel is very striking. The most mesmerizing part is the painting above the chapel which depicts the Holy Trinity where Jesus Christ is the central figure.

The curate of the chapel explained how it started way back 2002 when Fr. Dennis Duene Gutierrez Ruiz, OAD received from a nun some first class relics of St. Augustine and his mother St. Monica. Her gifts were intended for a convent in the Philippines. In his nearly eight- year stay in Vatican working at the Office of the Relics, Fr. Ruiz was able to collect more with of course the consent of the right authorities. It may sound as a no-sweat job but the curate said he has undergone a whole finding a needle in a haystack process.

Now, the chapel sheltered over 600 relics of different saints from different timelines and kept in individual containers called reliquaries. In case you are baffled about what holy objects are placed in the reliquaries, here is the system devised by the Catholic Church. First- class relics are body part of a saint- perhaps strands of hair, fragments of bone, bits of skin and dried blood. Second- class relics are items used by the saints while the Third-class relics are objects that have touched a first-class relic. Fourth-class relics are objects that have contact with a second-class relic. Amidst the bustling life in Cebu, there are still few sanctuaries we can go to find serenity and the Chapel of the Holy Relics is one of them.

               

I was trying to do the "pinaRK pose". (c) Joseph Munalem

Day 2, March 29, 2016

I got this feeling on the summer day when you were gone.
I crashed my car into the bridge. I watched, I let it burn.
I threw your shit into a bag and pushed it down the stairs.
I crashed my car into the bridge.

I don't care, I love it.

              

       
 Famed to be the haven of the gentle giants, our next stop was in Oslob, Cebu. In this south part of Cebu, tourists swarmed because of their pristine beaches and majestic falls. We are no exception to that claim. When we arrive in Oslob, we stayed in this humble hotel, the Brumini Resort which is near to the Whale Shark station.

       As early as 7 a.m, we hopped in to the shuttle and went to the location. As expected, there were a lot foreigners in there as well as local tourists like us. Like the others, we listened to a short orientation about the protocols in Whale Shark watching such as how many meters should we be away from the mammal, what to do when the mammal comes near to you and what the effects of wearing sunblock creams are. As we wait for our turn, I fervently prayed for our safety. I’m not afraid of the sea yet I am more afraid of the creatures in the sea that might attack me and devour me. So I was surprisingly silent for a moment and went blank. I just don’t know what to expect. When the boatmen called our number, number 28, we put on our life vest and brought a snorkel with us. When we lurched into the blue waters, we were told that the Whale Sharks will be going around and we should just patiently wait.

After so many epic fails, I finally got it right. FYI, it is so hard to stay underwater with the current trying to push you.

The waiting game paid off when the Whale Shark passed in front of me flaunting its huge mouth and gigantic body. It was the first time I have seen a whale and I was left completely enchanted. Enthralled by the events, I completely forgot about everything. But the Whale Shark unexpectedly swam closer to me and I panicked. I swam pathetically and somehow unintentionally kicked the Whale Shark. The millisecond moment where my foot landed on its side registered to my senses and its skin is slimy. After the 30- minute playtime with the gentle giants. We were sent ashore and proceeded to our next destination. Knowing that there are animals that will hover at our size and as gentle as a lamb, that are hunted, killed and sold, I can’t help but feel shame on my specie.

             
       Ocean apart from the mainland Oslob, the Sumilon Island laid its grandeur surrounded by the majestic blue waters.

Its physical structure proves how God can be surprisingly good in architecture. A mountain on the other side and a white as a dove sandbar on the other side. When we arrived there, we climbed up to the mountain-like rock formed shaded part and placed our stuffs there.

At first, I was hesitant to take another dip because I had enough already during our whale watching activity but the water in Sumilon was very enticing. It seemed it was luring me to take another dip or perhaps stay for another 3 hours. Surprisingly, the water was so cold and the violent rays did nothing to make me hunt for a shade. Yet, I have to get out of the water because the sea irritated my sinusitis. My face reddened, my sinus area began to swell and the seemingly interminable painful and irritating sneezing started. What a plot twist! While our reverend sisters and a group of water babies were busy playing in Poseidon’s lair, I was left in our dining area wishing for Hermes to swiftly fly to me and make me swallow an herb to ease the irritation.

Day 3- Aguinid Falls

“Hope when you take that jump, you don't fear the fall

Hope when the water rises, you built a wall

Hope when the crowd screams out, they're screaming your name

Hope if everybody runs, you choose to stay”

-          I Lived, One Republic

               

Still feeling sick, I chose to be entirely positive for the day. My living coverings were already reddish because of the too much exposure of the sun. My legs felt heavy because of the flutter kicks we had in Sumilon. But those predicaments did nothing to dampen my spirit for our next adventure which was the Aguinid Falls. To be honest, I don’t have much good experience in terms of falls. I almost died in Can-umantad Falls while climbing up their 418 steps. Still, I’d say yes to any adventure. We fixed ourselves before we marched our way to the location. We were told that there are five levels for the semi-trekking in the Aguinid Falls and we were advised to just stay if we feel that we can’t continue.

(c) Joseph Munalem

For a 73 kilo beauty, of course, I will definitely surpass all levels. Even if my knees were already shaking because of the heights, I would still go because of my pride. Even if I know that I am bad at balancing, keeping my feet on ground and keeping myself free from risks, I would still go. Those were my first thoughts especially when we were crossing levels 0 and 1. But when we finally arrived in level 2, I thought I’m going to puke. Things changed. My heartbeat went beast mode. My knees were trembling. My Eyes were a little bit teary. I feel like I’m going to pee. How could a woman like me can climb in that approximately 15 feet high rock formation with water flowing in it? Bea and the others already stayed. I was going to but when I saw the majority went up, I said there’s no way I’m gonna miss the fun.

That victorious smile after completing all the levels. 
(c) Glendaleine Obena

I was at that time climbing down the Level two challenge. (c) Glendaleine Obena

 So, I flaunt my best awkward smile and did my best to stay alive. Behind the compacent grin were my unsaid prayers and last thoughts. As we strive our way to another level, there was this part wherein people can jump in it and just splash in the cold water. Sir Mario and Ma’am Tan tried and they said that it was fine. It is deep enough to be safe for plunging. The rest were too afraid and that being said, I was also scared. Surprisingly, Ma’am Irene, who doesn’t know how to swim, bravely jumped into the water. After that, we were deeply motivated and so almost everyone tried. When it was my turn, I unfortunately plunged into the bottom butt first and felt the hard rocks on my back. After that I walked like Quasimodo. When we finally reached level 5, it felt that you just win your life back. It was the only time I had recognized the beauty of the falls because all the time I was busy keeping myself unscratched. The water was cooling down my system, the worm view was heavenly and the air was just so fresh. We also tried their mini-fish spa there which was great. In the end, I was just singing this song in my mind.

“I, I did it all

I, I did it all

I owned every second that this world could give

I saw so many places, the things that I did

With every broken bone, I swear I lived”

                I have this dramatic mood swing that occurs only when something remarkable is about to end. Knowing that the night in Boljoon would be our last night for this tour, I was a bit upset. I kept my distance and I mummed myself the whole afternoon.

This is a candid photo of mine trying to get away from the flock.
(c) Joseph Munalem

I wasn’t expecting much for the night. I thought we were just going to eat and then zapped to our bedrooms. Contrary to what I’ve been expecting, we were told that we will be attending a program. I was astounded with the people who were there, the decorations and the preparations. I was like “Am I in the right place?” But when I saw our reverend sisters sitting in one of the prepared tables, reality punched me in the face and yeah! I was really in the right place.

The night was young when the affair started. Headed by Dr. Rouel Longinos Ed. D, Ph.D, the program was delightful. We were entertained by the students from Patronage of Mary Development School(PMDS) from chorale singing, folk dancing and Sinulog Dancing.

I like the Sinulog Dance the most because we were able to dance with the performers. Sinulog dancing has been part of my childhood since our patron saint back in our hometown is the Child Jesus. So, when Sir Jelord, brother of Dr. Rouel, said that we were allowed to dance, I was on my feet already swaying and dancing. Surprisingly, the other teachers including our reverend sisters joined in. The night was filled with laughter and dancing. What a healthy way to end the tour!

                When we were travelling back to the city, all I did was scrolling some of the times when we were still there. It felt like it was just yesterday when we started this tour.

(c) Joseph Munalem

To be honest, I wasn’t thinking anymore of the places we have visited and of the beaches we have frolicked. I was thinking of the people who were there laughing all the way. Will we be able to have another vacation like this? When the future is blurry and when my mind is losing its sanity, I play a song that speaks my mind. So, for my last playlist it would be Summer Paradise by Simple Plan.

The BTC family together with the PMDS family.

My heart is sinking as I’m lifting up

Above the clouds away from you.

And I can’t believe I’m leaving,

Oh I don’t kno-kno-know what I’m gonna do.

But someday,

I will find my way back

To where your name,

Is written in the sand!

Chorus

Cause I remember every sunset

I remember every word you said.

We are never gonna say goodbye.

Singing la-da-da-da

Tell me how to get back to,

Back to summer paradise with you.

And I’ll be there in a heartbeat.


I would like to credit some of the pictures in this blog. Thank you for your consent!

Sir Joseph Munalem

Ms. Glendaleine Obena

BEHIND THE LENS: Ronald and Dhen Pre-wedding

Every love story has its coincidental beginnings. Some chance encounters are fortunate, others are unfortunate but some are just magical. It is as if all the forces in the universe convened and decided to link the stars between these two people. Love like water takes too many forms but then no matter what container, no matter what temperature it is, the content is still water. Love is unique to every individual. For Sir Ronald and Ma’am Dhen, their love for each other is built on their respect for each other. Sir Ronald is very polite and Ma’am Dhen is very prudent and thus their love is pure. I think it is a match made in heaven.

           When Ma’am Dhen asked me to be their photographer, at first, I was hesitant. Why? Because I know I am still an amateur. The task is very delicate, very complex and very detailed. And I am just a fat woman who happens to own a camera and who knows how to edit. But, on the other side, I was thinking that this might be an opportunity for me to hone my skill and eventually make a mark. So, I said yes! The good thing about this photo shoot is that I have colleagues in my work who unbelievably believed in my new found talent. They helped me with the ideas, the making of the props and the hair and make-up. We borrowed wardrobes from my sister, who was unhappy with the idea because I didn’t ask her permission and from Sir Mario Autentico, who has surprisingly a number of good formal attires. It was a collaboration of the brilliant teachers from Blessed Trinity College. We were even joking about putting up a business like that.

                As a photographer, I scouted the place and the perfect heaven to shoot their prenup is the Vicana Resort, located in San Vicente, Trinidad, Bohol. Aside from it is a resort, I can’t really lie about the serenity of the place. Surrounded with trees, beautiful landscape, and a kiosk by the pond. It is just so ethereal! I visited the place a couple of times to create the shots. I can’t contain my excitement. I’m having troubles in sleeping because my mind would not let me rest. Even lying in my bed, images of how should I do it, what should they pose and what would they wear were running in my mind. I know somehow that those sleepless nights paid off.

                Here are the shots I took during the prenup.

Note: I wrote some of my self-woven words in there just to compliment my shots.

“We need that someone who will still laugh in our jokes even if they have heard it a hundred times already. We need that someone who will listen to our endless stories. We need that someone to laugh with, to cry with and to celebrate with. And I want to share those moments with you.”

                Every photographer wants to capture unguarded moments because it is more realistic, more believable. And the shot above is just one of the few. It made my heart stopped for a second and at the same time made it bleed for a day. Knight in a Shining Armor, where art thou?

 “And I’ll never forget the first time I laid my eyes on you. I know I was looking at the woman who will give me the reason of my everyday existence, the reason why I am happy and the reason why I choose to wake up every morning.”

          I am not the best photographer in town. I am a work in progress, flawed but learning. That's why I can't really consider these shots as the best in the market. I have given my best and this is how I tell my story. I'm a novice visual storyteller as of now. And I am glad that my client didn't think twice of choosing me to be their storyteller.

"You will always be my favorite chance encounter"

"Let's make a pact that even if I let go, you would still run to me and hold my hands."

"It must be the fault of the stars why my path intersects with yours"

          I'm such a fan of John Green's TFIOS. I feel like the moment you are born you are already connected to the star that will be with you. It is inevitable not to influence your work of art from your own personal favorites. I wish that these two will be Lancaster and Waters without the dying part.

 
 


 " The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves."

                          -Victor Hugo


       

"To love is nothing. To be loved is something But to love and be loved, that's everything"

          -T. Tolis








     What is the real challenge in here is how to make an output on something you have never understand fully. I have never been in a serious relationship. Whenever I look back, a massive LOL follows after. I always think its a waste of time when lovers would talk in hours over the phone. I find it really absurd when they try baby talking to each other. I find telling someone what are your itineraries for the day completely strenuous. Everything that is in the realm of love and marriage is beyond logic. That makes it magical! How did I overcome this predicament of mine? Actually, I didn't. When you have two people in front of you who are truly, perfectly and unbelievably in love with each other, even if you you are that lousy photographer, you can't really conceal what is captured in the lens.

They are proud and happy to say..

         

And let us save the date...

         If you want to say something constructive please don't forget to leave a comment:)
#RonaldAnddhen
#TheCountdownToForever

   The Untold Goodbye 

         As they slowly moved you to that rectangular hollow dead end, the screeching of your coffin was the only sound reverberating in that unruffled afternoon. No wailing, no crying and no sobbing and nothing! It was a queer funeral. My friends were ignoring each other’s glances and were deeply muted. I smiled awkwardly. I looked again at your coffin, now I can only view you from the unwanted spaces between the disfigured bricks but then again no top-of-the-lungs wail was ever let out. I aimed my camera at the last piece to be covered by the man who holds the trowel and sighed, “I guess it is either we don’t know how to say goodbye or we are not just prepared to say goodbye.”

Epic

You don't get to film an incident like this everyday and this is so worth posting! I know that if my friend will find out that I have posted this clip of her doing a cartwheel in space for sure I will be receiving a grenade delivered straight to my house. It may sound that I have no compunction of doing such conceited crime but to tell you honestly I am at the moment crying. My tears are storming for two reasons: first, I feel bad about this but a large quantity of my tears was shed because I am laughing so damn hard AGAIN. (I mean, who wouldn't?) I can't really forget everybody's expression  and reaction when this happened. Others shouted, half were worried but all of us laughed I love you Alms and you know that!

For the information of everybody, this was filmed in Mag-aso Falls in Antequera when we were doing the Legend of Osiris. 
#EpicFail

The Cliff

The Cliff

If your mother is a teacher expect that your playground is the school. You enter classes that are not yours and make fun of the teacher’s illustrations. You snatch other kids’ food, you bully them and you make fun of them. You have the full access to the school’s surroundings and a passport to the Grade 6 pupil’s garden. The school was like a park to me, a paradise to discover especially the cliff in the backyard of the school. The cliff was a result to a natural cause where big waves splash to the shore and eroding its soil until it was eating slowly by slowly the land, creating a picturesque of a 15 feet cliff. The soil in the cliff was like a dress slowly being taken off by the hands of Poseidon and showing us the naked roots of trees and buried materials. In the backyard of the school, there were also lots of Ipil- ipil trees which Ma’am Amor,  the Grade 6 adviser,  used to get some for her goat and sometimes  fooled her pupils to get some of those green Ipil-Ipil branches in exchange for higher grades. There were also bushes there, tall enough to hide the butt of the pupils when they poop. Among the Ipil-ipil trees and the tall bushes were old Mahogany trees that were hot spot for creepy stories and mysteries. The older teachers would say that those trees were homes of the dwarves and other older folks would say that those were the haven of the “di Ingon nato”. Next to the old trees was an unfinished and unused Comfort Room. It was an eyesore, I would say! It stood at the left side of the backyard, creating an aura of spookiness. My inquisitiveness about the matter was profound that I asked the older folks around the area, since none of the teachers knew why it was built there and why it was unused. But then instead of telling us logical answers, they opted to tell us horror stories about that C.R. A long time ago, there was this girl who committed suicide in that C.R. They added, at night they hear sobs from that girl and faint voices calling “Mama! Mama”.  We didn’t believe such things because the principal, who happened to be our friend and was very fond of us, told us that it was not used because it was made of poor materials and its distance from the classroom was a labor for the teachers.

“But please girls! Do not go near to that building because there might snakes out there. You don’t want to get bitten by these vile creatures, do you?” The Principal warned us in a dignifying way.

“Yes Sir!” My sister and I answered in chorus while flashing our angelic smiles.

            It was a Monday in March when we set on a very spirited decision to go there.  All of the teachers were busy for the upcoming Graduation including our Mama Jinky. They were cutting letters, printing programs and busy buying ribbons and medals for the commencement exercise. With the limited time, works should be doubled. The Principal then called for an emergency meeting even if it is already 12:00 p.m. We were in the session hall already waiting for our Mama Jinky and listening to each teacher’s whines and complains about the urgency of the meeting that it cannot wait ‘till afternoon. I thought that teachers were self-sacrificing and God-like creatures who don’t complain about the pressures of their work but then that moment I realized that teachers are also humans, they complain about things that interrupt the cycle of their should be convenient existence and backbite people which is in contrary to what they teach.  I was already so hungry that my stomach sounded as if there were lions roaring in my intestines, screaming for food. My sister, on the other hand, was as usual always optimistic about almost everything, oblivious to the fact that it was already noon. I still didn’t get how she manages to stay enthusiastic when in fact she rarely eats her meals and she is as thin as a bamboo stick. After the long wait, our Mama Jinky finally arrived from her Math class.

            “Mama! When are we going home? It is already 12 p.m. and I am really really hungry” I complained.

            “This will not take long. Just wait for me in here and do not go home unless if I say so. Do not go anywhere just wait here and watch your sister.” She pleaded with all her affective strategies to win us and for us to behave like the Princesses of Denmark.

            She was about to enter the door when she turned her head again to me and said,

.           “Cielo, do not go anywhere. I know you! Please behave just for this time”

            I said “Yes, I promise! No fooling around this time. ”

            Then my Mother was swallowed by that dirty white door and left us with nothing to do. I tried to calm my horses and stayed to where am I seated but that itching curiosity that kept irritating my state of thinking convinced me to do something incredibly stupid. I jumped from my seat and started goofing around my sister. My sister really did not care so I have to aggravate her by calling her names.

            “ Hey Tikling”

            “What now?” My sister shouted back.

            “ You know! I was just wondering if we could check out the haunted C.R. in the backyard. It would be perfect since we are left with nothing to do except to wait and besides it is already 12pm and maybe we can see some ghost there”. I said.

            “Baboy Damo, You know that we promised that we will stay here?”My sister reasoned

            “Yes! But it won’t take long so Mama Jinky will not even know that we had gone snooping around the haunted C.R.” I tried to convince her.

            “Okey, then just a peep and we are out of there.” She finally gave in.

            We then marched to the narrow passageway to the backyard. Teachers cannot get through that passageway because it was much tapered and it was not really a passageway. It was just a vertical slit unintentionally created because the Grade 1 classroom and the office were not joined. The foul odour of urine greeted us as we strode to the concourse. We covered our noses because the smell was like a whiff of ammonia acid permeating in the air and infiltrating to our nostrils. We walked faster than ever and yes! We reached the end. We jumped in complete exuberance because we have survived. We then darted off to the pilapil of the rice field because at the end of it was our final destination. We spread our arms to balance ourselves to keep us from falling to the mushy mud like that we usually saw on T.V. where an artist would spread his/her arms and walked to the wire. There were only two people there, me and my sister. The quietude of the surroundings was creating an eerie feeling that kept me looking around. I don’t know if it was just a product of my  imagination or a factual realization that there were eyes staring at us, watching our every step and among those trees were creatures we don’t see but can see us. My sister who was ahead of me was oblivious to my worries and self-war, stopped at the dirty old door and looked back at me. I then hurriedly run towards her and I stand next to her. We both released a heavy air when we placed our hands to the door and pushed it gently. As we opened the door widely, the cold air brushed my skin and cheeks, the rotting smell of wood was the first odour I recognized and the first sight that greeted us was the cob-webbed cubicle with the dirty white-stained bowl. There were vandals in the wall like The Crips and The Bloods. Most of them were gangsters’ names and signs. There was nothing unusual there, no skulls, no rope and no bloodstains just an old abandoned and never used comfort room. My sister who was clearly disappointed got out ahead first then I followed while looking at every detail of the room. When I got out, I tried to look for my sister because she just slipped away from my sight.

“Michilleeee! Michilleeeee! Let’s go back to the office now” I called out.

“Ate! Come over here” she shouted back.

            I followed her voice and walked among those tall Ipil- Ipil. I was very nervous because I am heading to the cliff. I found her standing near to the edge of the cliff and I hurriedly grabbed her hand.

            “You should not stand near the cliff, you might fall” I reprimanded.

            She pulled her hands from my clasping hands and I let it go.

            “I know! But you have to check this out!”

            We had never set foot to the cliff side of the school but we were told about this stone that served as the haven of the sirens and mermaids. My sister was captivated about this stone being the home of these magical and mythical creatures that she really never paid attention to what I said.

            “Hoy tikling, we have to go now. Mama Jinky will be so worried if she found out that we were gone” I warned her again.

            Finally she heeded to what I said and started to move. I turned my back and started walking but then I heard my sister shouted-

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

            I looked back, hurriedly ran towards her, dropped on my knees and looked down. She was there clinging unto the roots. Tears were streaming in her cheeks and I don’t know what to do. She was shouting “Ate! Ate!” while she tightened her grip unto the roots. I didn’t say a word but tears were pouring, I don’t know where my voice was and I don’t know what to say. Instead of comforting her, I left her without a word because in my mind there was only one person to turn to at times like this, my mother. I ran like a mad woman and rushed towards the Session Hall. Other kids who saw me crying followed me dead curious to what happened to me and what news will I bring. Fortunately, my Mama Jinky was already waiting outside the session Hall worried and when she saw me in tears, she already sensed that something was wrong.

            “Mama! Mama!” I called out.

            “What happened?” she asked.

            I opened my mouth but instead of words, heavy sobs came out. I opened my mouth again but instead of a voice, tears were raging. That was one of the moments that I want to let her know but all I could do was to show her how I felt. She shook my shoulders and asked the same question. Still, I can’t talk. I am still in the state of being lost at words. I can see her worried face turned to very alarmed but with me can’t talk she became very anxious. She slapped me and slapped me and slapped me. That was the first time that she slapped me and I can’t forget that moment of silence. She was cursing and slapping me at the same time but I could not comprehend a thing to what she was saying. It was as if everything was in mute and all I can do was looked her in the eye wishing her to stop.  The other kids were surrounding us; others were smiling and exchanging whispers. Clearly they are enjoying the circus of drama which added the pressure on me.

            “Michelle on the cliff” I finally blurted.

            My Mom then let go of me and ran quickly to the backyard. The other kids also did the same, they all rushed to the cliff leaving me paralyzed. They were bumping at me as if I am invisible and I was watching them like a child watching a procession with a fast forward version. I felt a sudden pain in my butt it was then I realized that Mrs. Garcia the Grade 2 teacher pinched me and she walked passed over me. The pinched was nothing compared to the red traces of my mother’s hand in my cheeks. But that pinched was enough to bring me back to reality that I still have a sister hanging in a root.

            When I arrived there the show was over because the children were now retreating from their steps and started making a fuss about what happened. I rolled my eyes and searched for my Mother and there I saw her approaching, carrying my poor scared sister. I was relieved and waited for them but my Mother walked passed at me, oblivious to my presence or maybe just ignoring me. I was staring at them my Mother cuddling my sister and my sister hugging my Mother while walking. I followed them like a puppy but for a minute I stopped and looked back then continued walking.