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| Mi-an's Creative Writing Homework Critic Page | |
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| Topic Started: Mar 2 2012, 07:08 PM (1,531 Views) | |
| Sinjin | Mar 2 2012, 07:08 PM Post #1 |
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as the name suggests, this is where i'll post creative writing stuff and once in a while i'll ask for critics from you guys since i care about your opinion. ^_^ thanks!! I Knew It Wasn’t a Dream and the Wiccan Brought Back My Smile I remember waking up in a hotel room because of voices that my cousins who shared the room did not hear. I found the window to the side open but confused as the air conditioning unit had been on and buzzing for some time. Then, I found myself leaving the room at the request of a cousin to buy something, and while waiting at the elevator, I felt an ominous presence. The doors of the lift opened and hot air blew out, sending my heart racing for safety but feet were planted firmly in fear. Then, I felt his presence as invisible hands wrapped around me and pulled me back, convincing me to return to the room and just call for room service. Living in a place where beliefs on “aswang” and “multo” were common, I always thought my case was normal. I was in my fourth grade when it first happened. An unknown sickness first thought of as dengue by my parents, but examinations from the hospital said otherwise, had left me to rest at home, as my body burned and my mind delirious. I could faintly remember a person at my bedside, whispering some chant in a dialect so close to our own but I was an English brat and knew little of the language back then. A feathery object was waved overhead before something wet yet refreshing was pasted on my skin. Memory forgets the crucial detail but days passed and what struck me were footprints on the floor – freshly made and completely outlined boots that belonged to no one in the household – made from the white powder that was drawn around the bed. No one could explain it well but my nanny said that the “albularyo” that had been called said the footprints belonged to a spirit guardian that had helped me recover. It was crazy, of course, but in the years that followed, more incidents that I could not explain happened and all the time, I go back to this one unknown guardian, slowly building up the trust and belief that he is real. Believe it or not, I often talk to him when I’m alone. College came around the corner and for the first time I lived away from home. The first experiences were too extreme – frequent visits of spirits in the dorm (which ended up chasing out one of my roommates), and the haunting of one in a rented apartment. Waking up to a cold sweat and running to the porch, as if to escape the premises of the house would help alleviate the feeling, was becoming a daily habit but I wasn’t frightened that much for I could feel my guardian’s presence every time and it placed a nervous smile on my face… but a smile no less. I had doubted his existence lately, but a recent encounter with a Wiccan had confirmed his presence right next to me, which was to my relief, as I am glad to know that the way I had lived my life so far was not a lie – that he was real. Strange as it seem, but the Wiccan brought back my smile. aswang = monster, think werewolves and such multo = ghouls and spirits albularyo = local term for a shaman |
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| Sinjin | Mar 2 2012, 07:12 PM Post #2 |
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Version 2 I fervently believed throughout college that it was not a dream but it was hard to explain to the people around me. So, I may have unconsciously tried to forget about him until the faith was restored upon meeting a Wiccan who confirmed his existence. I was in my fourth grade when it first happened, an unknown sickness first thought of as dengue by my parents but examinations from the hospital said otherwise. I was left to rest at home while my body burned and my mind delirious. I could faintly remember a person at my bedside, whispering some chant in a dialect so close to our own but I was an English brat and knew little of the language back then. A feathery object was waved overhead before something wet yet refreshing was pasted on my skin. Memory forgets the crucial detail but days passed and what struck me were footprints on the floor – freshly made and completely outlined boots that belonged to no one in the household – made from the white powder that was drawn around the bed. My nanny said that the “albularyo” that had been called to see me said that the footprints belonged to a spirit guardian that had helped me recover. It was crazy, of course, but in the years that followed, more incidents that I could not explain happened and all the time, I go back to this one unknown guardian, slowly building up the trust and belief that he is real. Believe it or not, I often talk to him when I’m alone. College came around the corner and for the first time I lived away from home. The first experiences were too extreme – frequent visits of spirits in the dorm, and the haunting of one in a rented apartment. Waking up to a cold sweat and running to the porch, as if to escape the premises of the house would help alleviate the feeling, was becoming a daily habit but I wasn’t frightened that much for I could feel my guardian’s presence every time and it placed a nervous smile on my face… but a smile no less. However, busy with the new lifestyle here in Manila, I have recently forgotten about my guardian and I believe for that very reason I suffered a month of recurring sickness. Living away from the family again, I have never felt so truly alone, something that never bothered me at all in the past. It was then that I realized that he was the one that made things bearable and I fear that having lost my faith in him had pushed him away, hence the uneasy silence and insecurity. So, it was genuine happiness that I felt when my cousin had introduced me to his former love interest, a “Wiccan” girl who assured me that my friend was still there by my side. Though I could never fully admit it to the spirit guardian that I am grateful, perhaps he knew all along for whenever I slept with a worried heart, I never failed to feel his touch on my back, a sign that always gave me courage. |
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| Sinjin | Mar 9 2012, 12:26 AM Post #3 |
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K, round 2! This is an essay contest piece as well as a major write up for the class... so critics or any comments and suggestion are well taken and considered. arigatou~! The World of the Large Waving Crab Sunlight breaches through the white veil and sprinkles warm yellow across the sea of clouds. An early morning flight is never relaxing, having to wait in the terminal for almost two hours before the sky gets a glimpse of the sun, but what makes it enchanting is the view of the rising sun. The flight from Manila to Roxas is one of the earliest and if you fly between November and January, you will definitely miss the sunrise because the sky remains dimly lit, like a vast cold cloud hangs above the island of Panay. Luckily, this flight was blessed with good weather and the traces of the warm yellow rays created outlines along the clouds, making them fluffier than ever. But they would always transform into the sea in my eyes and a few more seconds they would part like ebbing waves to reveal a small island that looks like a fat alimango with its large pincer in front to display that strong and marvelous curve that is the shoreline of the Baybay Beach. This was how Roxas City would greet guests coming from the sky and if you can imagine for a little while, the alimango seems to be waving with a smile. But perhaps this part of the imagination is fed by the reputation of the city as a seafood capital of the country and that the image of the alimango is merely a play of the mind in reminding me how early into the morning the flight was and that I have yet to eat breakfast. Of course, there are other ways to get to Roxas City. By boat, you get to relax in a daylong trip along the Visayas sea, cherish the nights of when the moon would be your only source of light while bravely exploring the decks of the large ship. Along the way, between the Mindoro and Romblon islands, you can spend quality time with your family and friends on the deck to greet the loving night breeze of the ocean, erasing that fear and igniting the seafarer’s spirit within you, and if you are lucky enough, you would be accompanied by friendly chirpings and graceful dives of dolphins in the water. They, who are caught up into the moment, rush out to display their magnificent form before making a splash into your memory of an enchanting night. I know this for I often stole to the decks at night when we traveled, just tourist class as dad wanted me to experience the real adventure, and when you feel like imitating Jack and Rose’s pose along the rails of the deck, you never forget to see the dolphins among the waves. It was the first time that made me experience nature at its fullest and it was a good thing I didn’t have any weird ideas of jumping off to swim with them else I’d be left behind by the ship… and graver consequences I’d rather not imagine. The other way is to travel by land, coming from any point of Panay Island, where a commuting bus would only cost around 180 Pesos, giving you a tour along the hills and the green plains of rice fields. Coming from Iloilo City, the ride would take you between two to three hours and you would know it when you’ve arrived into the province of Capiz for the slightly rough travel would segue into a smooth ride along the asphalt road of the national highway that leads to the capital, Roxas City. I remember this experience for four years I have traveled along this route when I was still taking up my college degree in Iloilo. In addition, during my childhood, when I would travel along the road of Lonoy going to Iloilo, there would be that obelisk in the middle of the road with a large crab statue on top of it with the greetings of “Mabuhay! Welcome to Roxas City” and on the other side “You are now leaving Roxas City” which has become a landmark that I miss as a new and faster route can be taken in the road of Ivisan going to Iloilo and what marks the entry to Roxas City is merely a large archway where the national highway road passes through in between its legs. Though the greetings are still painted in the same way on both sides of the archway, it doesn’t compare to the sight of a greeting crab. The fastest and probably the most dramatic entrance would definitely be by airplane as when one finally sets foot on the tarmac, you are greeted by a group of young adults to serenade your arrival and for you to take your first step in immersing with the Hiligaynon dialect, that is if no one on board the plane has ever spoken in it, which is highly unlikely as Capiznons are quite known for being too friendly and casual that they would partake in a short exchange of conversation in the Hiligaynon dialect with a kasimanwa (someone from the same place). The first thing to look forward to when arriving in December is the plaza. There, a myriad of lights and decors hung from the giant trees that act as stalwart guardians in front of the Immaculate Conception Metropolitan Church, but locals simply call it as Cathedral. This magnificent edifice was an Augustine built structure constructed during the early 1900’s after the war. Due to the passing time, it had another major reconstruction in 1954 and the most recent in 2011 where the ceiling was rebuilt to withstand the strong typhoons and a dome that is shy off a baroque style but made the church look grander. Its façade had undergone numerous paint changes over the years that one would begin to think that it’s an annual hobby of the city planner’s design. At first it was white before turning to a greying church, which somehow made the structure look lonely and sad, which next had a dramatic change to light yellow as if to invite merriment among the people. There was a time when I visited the plaza only to be surprised that the church had been colored sky blue like the ones you’d see in children’s books and though the color looks harmonious and one with the sky on a clear day, the structure came off more as a cake than anything else. It was only recently that the color was once again changed to beige for both exterior and interior walls. The flooring also had its renovation done throughout the years, changing from mere cement to tiles and now to marvelous marble tiles that get quite slippery when wet. But the centerpiece of most churches is the altar and this church boasts not of the glamour but of the simplicity of a heavenly white background of tiles with that antique statue of the Immaculate Virgin Mary, where below it is the life-size wooden cross and directly above it, hanging from the ceiling is the large sculpture of a dove. There used to be a tracery of cherubim at the sides, but all that was left of what was once a church-filled of angel statues were the life-sized ones found standing on top of each corner of the church, all facing the altar with jubilation. Finally, there was the addition of the priests’ living quarters and the adoration chapel at its side. Ever since then, this church has witnessed countless weddings, burials, baptismal and holy events that have given it an aura of real sanctuary, both for the common people and the ministers. For me, this was the place where I was ushered into the Christian Community as was the baptismal place of many of my cousins. Ironically (and forgive me for being too chatty), it was where I first witnessed a car getting blessed, as if it had its own sacred rites of baptism. This was our car. From the front of the church, the plaza stretches farther to right side where the City Hall would be located as well as a monumental statue of Manuel A. Roxas, on what was once a stage, renovated into a tier of platforms serving as steps to the statue. I remember this for when I was a child it was where I witnessed an accident of a playmate who decided to jump off the edge of the stage and earned a cut and a bloody head. The new design, however, is child-friendly and wider with an even flat surface that nannies would no longer have a hard time handling the children for an afternoon play at he plaza. More giant trees are spread out with giant-sized Christmas decors such as presents, candy canes, parols and trinkets drape along the firm and sturdy branches in various colors and lights that change hues. Across the street from the monument, near the Panay River, the Roxas Band Stand takes the center stage in that side of the plaza. Built in the early 1920’s by the first Filipino Principal of the Capiz Trade School, it has become an iconic location for political rallies, presentations, launching of events, and the front stage of festivals and programs where people both from the city and the around the province would gather. It has experienced it own renovation in 2009 with a repainting of its façade and the expansion of its area to accommodate more people, and on quiet uneventful days you would see kids playing along the area with the elderly people bringing their chairs and tables to set up their little afternoon chess games. It was only recently when the city had added another spectacle beside the band stand, a life-sized chess board with its respective pieces, though its purpose is mostly for tourist attraction rather than to be used for an actual game… and wouldn’t it be fun to actually see a game played on it, where people embrace their pieces before hefting them off the ground and walk to which tile they would place it next? At the center where the roads intersect, there is the fountain that has been erected for more than fifty years, made of a pedestal standing a little taller than six feet with eight “fish” sculptures around it spouting water all day long, which stands and each year seems to have a different design. In 2009, it was redesigned and for a long while, it looked so ephemeral and baroque, resembling a Venetian fountain where four large men were sculpted to carry the large saucer from which the water would softly cascade to the delight of the onlookers and eventually becoming a tourist spot. There were nights when my cousin and I would drive all the while to the plaza. We would play pretend to be somewhere in Europe while taking photos with the Venetian inspired fountain. Unfortunately, with the change of government, the façade was torn down and the fountain was returned to its original simple form – a giant birdbath. When the Christmas holiday demands it to be decorated, a simple large cone made of fishnet would be erected over it and plastered with 2D parols with lights behind them, which makes it look more like a lamp at night than a Christmas Tree, and rain and accumulated dust has turned the white of the parols grubby and uninviting, especially during daytime. Another addition to the bright spectacle is found to the left of the church where the Municipal Capitol – like the City Hall – is fashionably lit with Christmas lights in various designs that at times I feel so overwhelmed and dismiss it as over decorated. The same can be said with the City Hall and it somehow gives the feeling that there is a competition going on between the two government buildings on which has the best holiday make-up. This lasts only for three months, from November to January, after which both buildings will be stripped of these jewelries and be left bare and plain… boring. The redeeming aspect of the extravagant plaza decorations would be the floats lined along the Panay River just beyond the band stand area. Various floats are designed like different sea creatures that shine brightly with thousands of small light bulbs at night to create an illusion of a floating parade in the river. But this enthusiasm of the spirit of Christmas can only be found at the frontage of the buildings that surround the plaza, leaving their sides bare and dark, seemingly sad. This is quite true as I drive past the Municipal Capitol, where the sources of light at night are the moon, the lamppost, the headlights of passing vehicles, or the light from the plaza that casts a silhouette along the streets. This is made more obvious when the local government decided to change the lampposts’ bulb from warm white to fluorescent white where the scope of the bright light is only limited to about a couple of meters around the lamppost, giving the street that familiar and ominous scene that one could find in some movie about Victorian London, add some fog and it could even be the next shooting location of a Sherlock Holmes film. Coasting along Magallanes Street, you will get to see the difference of the city compared to the metropolis in Luzon – establishments and residential homes were built side-by-side and grow no higher than two stories. Most recently, a five-story building had been constructed, but alas, only up to the third-storey was allowed for use. Here, the buildings still has the semblance of a Spanish influenced architecture, wooden materials built as facades with windows made of Capiz Shells along the second floor. The origin of the name of these specific shells lies at their abundance along the shoreline, putting the place in the map. Capiz was still the name of the city until only with the birth of Manuel Roxas who became the President of the Commonwealth Philippines in 1946, and in recognition, the city was renamed after him, hence Roxas City. But the name Capiz has and will always resound in the hearts of the people, thus both city and provincial seals carry the symbol proudly. At the same time, this is one of the reasons why even now, some of the municipalities of the province still refer to the city as Capiz. One group of travelers coming in to the city from outlying municipalities would even casually say “Maligo ta sa baybay sang Kapis!” (We’ll swim in Baybay of Capiz), and as a testament to this more recognized name of the place, I remember going around Western Visayas and when asked about where I came from, no one could pinpoint Roxas City until I explain it is Capiz. Hence, it has become a habit of mine to refer to it as Ciudad sang Capiz (City of Capiz) since it was easier to be understood that way, but with the passage of time and growth of political influence, Roxas City can now finally achieve that “light bulb effect” of recognition from strangers. Similarly, in the name of modernization and development, new buildings have sprouted from what was once an empty lot. These buildings made of concrete and designs trying to imitate new architectural concepts such as glass exteriors or avant-garde symmetry stand at least three-storeys high. But after having been away from the city for a few months, I can say that they have sprouted like mushrooms that you often ignore until they have covered quite a large space and that their completion of construction had allowed their existence to be noticed among its neighboring dwarves. And while I admire their tenacity to carve a new image in our small and humble city, I fear that they would one day devour the sky the same way buildings have in Manila. The night sky is always something to expect in Roxas City and something I boast to friends from other places. This is better appreciated in Baybay Beach, that long seven-kilometer stretch of shoreline with fine sand and gradual even slope. With just a glimpse of the waters from the sea and the blurring horizon of where the dark sky and the unlit water surface meet, you get a touch of infinity. But take a position along the sandy shore and raise you head up a little higher, redirect those orbs of yours towards the vast sky and you will see eternity – that moment when no clouds hinder your view of the spread out darkness with glittering stars all around and there is that inner urge to play and count as many constellations as you can recognize. This is one of the many secrets that people of my generation and those before me had learned to appreciate and I fear that the younger ones cannot see. The seemingly peaceful locale, far from the noise and extravagances of the larger cities, has its own way of whispering poetic beauty. Even when I had studied in Iloilo for four years, this sight was nowhere to be found for the sky there is colored with the red and orange hues from buildings and lampposts, far from its natural beauty. In reality, all skies are the same wherever you look at them from, but after living through an experience of the night sky in Baybay Beach, you will know that there is that tugging urge inside you that wants to argue otherwise. Perhaps it is the added effect of the salty breeze that blows against your face with occasional stray sands, or the sound of the ebbing waves, or even the contrasting of the shouts and laughter of the people eating in restaurants at the beachside as opposed to the serenity that you experience at looking at the sky. But no matter what you do in order to enjoy the experience of stargazing in the beach, you will find yourself turning about from where you stand along the sandy shore, nose directing your next destination. Indeed, the smell of the newly cooked delicacies, the grilled fat bangrus (milk fish) export quality and twice larger than one could find in Manila, the harmony of the spices that float in the air originating from the curries and the ginataang alimango, and the hearty laughter of families drawn together at each large table where dinner is to be serve does its job fantastically to bring to life that craving to partake in a feast of seafood. Known as the Seafood Capital of the country, Roxas City does its share in treating one for an amazing culinary experience. Along the beachside countless of restaurants have been established to cater to the indulgent appetite of both the locals and the foreigners. The famous ones – Marc’s, Tabai, Baia Norte, and Wayfarer had once dominated the food scene from day till night. They serve one of the best-grilled foods in the city, and perhaps in the entire island of Panay, with varieties ranging of different fishes, to crustaceans and shellfishes, and to meat and poultry. Nowadays, however, new establishments have foregrounded the culinary scene in the beachside such as San Antonio Resort, Sandbar and Coco Veranda. My family and I ate at the latter after I have become a fan of their wondrous way of grilling the bangrus that keeps its meat juicy and not dry, tender and not hard or flakey, marinated overnight with soy sauce and calamansi, and to be served fresh off the grill with a siding of papaya atsara. Inihaw na bangrus as I would call it, had been a week-long craving that I did not shy away from asking my father to treat me to, thus the moment I arrived in Roxas City, a dinner to this restaurant would already have been reserved. What makes the bangrus of Roxas City different from those found around the country is the water found in the Panay River. Its salinity is excellent for bangrus farming. But while I am already happy with my inihaw na bangrus, there are other great seafood varieties that one should never miss to have a taste when visiting Roxas City. We have the alimosan, a catfish variety that thrives in big rivers such as the Pontevedra River, a tributary river of the Panay River. Aside from grilling, it is also best served cooked with coconut milk – a style of cooking that has both locals and tourists demanding for a taste. There is also wide variety of crabs to be found such as the ones called the native crabs, small but aligihanon or full of roe and weighs heavier than mestizo crabs, and then there are the ones called the giant crabs that weigh one kilo or more per piece, cultured in crab farms around the city and nearby municipalities and exported to nearby Asian countries. Now, if one has the passion for eating shellfishes, especially the talaba, where in Manila you would have to pay a hefty price for a few pieces, in Roxas City, half of that Manila price that you pay would already get you a bowl full, and at full price, a bucket. You wouldn’t have to worry about getting poisoned for a long-dead talaba either as it is guaranteed to be freshly picked out from the sea and sometimes, if you’re lucky enough, there’s even evidence of sand. But my unforgettable experience with the talaba was when my cousin ordered for a bucket and we found fist-sized shells wherein upon opening the tempting treasure chest that it was, it was revealed that the entire shell was full of its fat meat, equally a fist-sized haul of deliciousness. However, if there is a hierarchy for the deliciousness among shellfishes found in Roxas City, at the very top would be the diwal or more popularly known as “angel wings”, grown locally and famous for its rich sweetness, best grilled but by experimenting, its flavor is expounded more through a tinola way of cooking. They used to be harvested occasionally with the city having a Diwal Festival to gather this delicacy from all around the province, but now it can be harvested all year round for as long as there are no harsh typhoons that have hit Panay Island that would have damaged the farming grounds of this type of shellfish. The diwal is normally sent out to bigger cities such as Iloilo and Manila, especially for the value of their shells, which places a high demand for harvesting. There is a funny reason behind its local name “diwal” which means to “spill out”, seeing how far it is from its more elegant name of “angel wings”. Originally, a diwal submerged and being cultured looks like an ordinary shell with a stretched elliptical shape, but there is a slight opening on its tip where a tail-like appendage stretches out from the shell and waves along with the flow of the water. This resembles a person sticking his tongue out, hence it’s almost like it’s spilling out something, thus the name. On the other hand, “angel wings” came from the observation of the shell when it is opened, creating the very image of archaic angel wings. Traveling to Roxas City for its gastronomical produce is just half the reason for most tourists. During December, there is the grand weeklong fiesta called “Sinadya sa Halaran”, and for someone who has grown enjoying this, it is definitely a reason worth enduring the trip back home and revelling in the merry festival. What were once two separate festivals were put together to create the province-wide merrymaking and religious feast to the city patroness, the Blessed Virgin Mary of the Immaculate Conception. It is held in city plaza, where at day there would marching of bands and dances and at night the streets would turn into a long strip of food court where various stalls of restaurants have sprouted their tents to cater for the nightly foodfest. And if you inspect the stalls, you will see that seafood is never missing in their menu despite the grilling of meat and poultry dishes. Three years ago, I was a third year mass comm student and my group was tasked to make a documentary film about the city fiesta, the Sinadya sa Halaran. The origin dates back to the Spanish era when the city was still Capiz the prosperous port town. The festival was a merry gathering and contrary to some popular belief, the Spaniards in Capiz actually got along well with the people, but to ensure real camaraderie among one another, they devised a solution. Hence, the festival required masks to accompany the jovial and flamboyant clothes to chase away any form of prejudice and discrimination among the people due to their lineage. Somewhere along the years and after having named as the Seafood Capital of the country, the masks and clothes were replaced with costumes of sea creatures. It is during the grand parade of Sinadya sa Halaran that tribal clans of street drummers and participating schools all around Capiz would sadsad (street dance) in their colorful and intricately designed costumes and floats. Winning participants get to represent the province in cultural festivals such as the one held in CCP. It is just sad to know they did not make an appearance at the 2011 festival and it makes me wonder where the annual budget for such a grand event had disappeared. People around the island often come to watch and their disappointment was made obvious when the once crowded band stand in the plaza started to lose its audience early on. They return, however, at night for a chance to see a couple of contracted artists to show up and sing a few songs before leaving the gathered masses only half-entertained. Nevertheless, the peak of the festival is the voyage of the statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary of the Immaculate Conception that is found in the altar of the Cathedral. The statue would parade along the Panay River in an elegantly decorated pagoda full of lights and flower, with devotees and the public waiting along the riverside, holding on to their candlesticks and praying. The one I could remember quite fondly was in 2009 for mum had been in charge of the fluvial procession. Days before the event, I was stuck in Iloilo doing the last minute checking on my thesis paper while my mum did hers regarding the procession. It had to be grand to stand equal with the devotees’ passion as we both agreed over the phone, and the time she dedicated –the sleepless nights, event committee meetings, prayers, random hysteria over the phone and constant nagging for my return to witness it – for it was testimony of her own devotion to make the journey of the Blessed Virgin Mary beautiful and awe-inspiring. And on that day, joining the hundreds gathered, right after the Misa sa Plaza (Mass at the Plaza), I felt a strange air of mysticism and religiosity around me. The very energy that the people possessed was contagious that it would overwhelm you and, in effect, draw you in. So, amidst the prayer being recited, our eyes would shift to the first sight of the floating pagoda. Its slow and gliding motion along the river was testament to the patience of the gathered public, seemingly not minding the suffocating thickness of the crowd and the short drizzle. A child would even carefully protect his candlestick just to make sure the wick stay lit up until the statue of the city patroness passes. And there is that deafening silence, the height of the serenity in the crowd owes it to the passing floating pagoda where all eyes are at the beautiful statue. The procession ends at the Capiz Bridge where mechanisms of the pedestal that the statue was standing on would begin to work and lift the Blessed Virgin upward. Dramatic effect is added with spotlights aimed at the statue as it continues to rise where an entourage of devotees and church ministers wait at the top of the bridge. There, they transfer the statue to a cart and the procession resumes down the bridge, past the landmark fountain and on to the church. At that very moment when the statue enters the church, fireworks lit up the sky and the crowd cheers “Viva!” before the ceremonial mass takes place of when the blessed patroness will be instituted on the church for another year of guidance and protection to the city. Who would have thought that in the following year, the entire course of the festival, including the fluvial procession, would fall victim to reduced budgets and political affiliations. Time and money for the festival would have to take the backseat as priority was given to the newly established government. Out with the old and in with the new was the motif, and even the Venetian inspired fountain had to be brought down before it could even taste an anniversary. And when people – those especially close to our family and political part – feel cheated, I cannot hide the same emotion of betrayal by the public for a last minute insta-cash scheme. They didn’t even have the delicadeza as on the day after the election of Summer 2010, grocery stores were attacked by the newly printed bills, some so fresh they still had that particular smell from their plastic jackets. But the feeling of betrayal is from the people and not the land, though there was a time when I thanked God for bringing me to Manila before I truly could hate the city of my birth. And while friends are still wounded from that tragic summer, I decided to look forward to the future, hanging on to the happiness that the city once gave. A block away from the Cathedral and right along what is known as the center or the heart of the city was our old house – the ancestral home of the Abelas. It was a two-storey building along Hughes Street with a place marker marble engraving of my grandfather’s name by its front door. It was where the family gathers every Sunday, most especially when I return. A testimony of the old days, its entire ground floor is the garage while a staircase invites one to the Spanish-inspired second-storey house, where everything from all our rooms to the sala, the toilet and kitchen was found. Growing up, I really thought it was a bungalow only to be uprooted by really tall foundation beams. It is where I lived the first half of my life, currently owned by my father’s eldest sibling, an uncle who knew how to woo me by treating me to my favorite butter grilled scallops. Now, a grandfather and I, an aunt, the Sunday Lunches would not be complete without being entertained by the new king – my two-year old nephew, Enzo. And the reasons to go back to Roxas City have increased by another count. Looking at our Sunday Lunch pictures, we are truly fortunate that we survived that ridiculous election of Summer 2010 while other families have remained split because of political affiliation. We somehow managed to pull ourselves back together but now, I am reminded by another reason why I felt betrayed by the city, for as its name suggests, this place has turned quite political for my taste. After the Sunday Lunch, mum and I would visit my lola’s compound (and I always felt something amiss if this was forgone) in Luna Novicio Street, a lot where two two-storey houses and a bungalow of my maternal family resides in. There, mum joins my aunts and lolas for a game of mahjong while my cousins and I talk, watch animes, play with game consoles, be in charge for the afternoon snacks or even hold our very own “cousin’s only” mahjong party at the side. These were the people I grew up with – who gave rise to friendly rivalries, awe-inspiring, and teachers of respect and gallantry – and this was the place I called my eternal “Daycare Center”. No wonder I grew up having so many siblings despite being an “only child” for they were too close to be captioned as “extended family”. They provide one of the biggest reasons to never truly hate the city and to return with an open heart. After all, how can one ever hate the place where the beloveds live? Speaking of family, though we have moved out from the ancestral house after our very own was completed, never has a day gone by without my constant yearning to simply do nothing and stay in the house with mum and dad, whom I would fondly call “mamoo” and “dada”. In that small two-storey contemporary home, I was the princess – their everything – as they were mine. So, it would only be fitting that I call Roxas City my hometown for my special persons were there, and to think otherwise – that they were elsewhere or gone for all eternity – would probably reduce the place into “just another city”. And so, the biggest revelation this city has taught me was that urge to protect all that made this place special in my heart. In the end, I could not miss out from telling about this particular special place. Day in and day out, you would very much come across this structure, especially when you arrive and are about to depart from the city. This is the giant dome-like structure at the central plaza, the museum – Panublion. The official name is a Hiligaynon term for protector or the guardian of precious things. It is an example of intelligent architectural reuse as it was once a large water tank built in 1910 by the third Presidente (Mayor) of the town of Capiz, Pastor Acazar. Its original function was to provide water to the municipio especially during the dry seasons. Surprisingly, the whitewashed water tank survived WWII with its monolithic frame of 11.5 meters in diameter, 6.10 meters in height and 27.5 cm thick walls. Consequently, offices were built around the structure when the municipio was destroyed, hiding the water tank with only the spout visible. By 1993, offices were torn down when the City Hall just across the street of the water tank was now in use and with the establishment of the city’s water system, the water tank was no longer necessary. However, it served as a landmark that tied the past and the present of the city, thus, instead of being demolished, it was converted into a museum and as its name declares, it houses and protects the rich culture and history of Capiz. As a child, it looked gigantic and now as a young adult, it still is, but only in the sence that it’s a giant protector being timid and shy from showing off its real enormous self. But the size does not speak for what it contains – the knowledge and life that is genuinely Capiz. Therefore, there is no better travel guide than the museum and precisely the one location a person should never fail to visit. Then again, perhaps the one real place to visit before leaving is the fish market in Liba – where the one can choose among the freshly caught assortment – or simply buy a pack of alimango to sustain one’s self for the journey or as gifts. In my case, it would always be the latter and usually for relatives who now live in Manila. And as one boards the plane, boat or bus for their next destination, they can only think of the resounding echo of the last Hiligaynon they hear, “Balik diri dasun.” (to return to this place soon). |
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| Sinjin | Mar 9 2012, 12:28 AM Post #4 |
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PS: I'm soooooo sorry T_T the coding screwed up as soon as i posted here, but.... well.... there are supposed to be indentations and such... oh well. hope you'll still read. v.v |
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| Sinjin | Jun 29 2012, 05:27 PM Post #5 |
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Peponi [pe•po•nee] Paradise in Swahili. I hear The galloping hooves along the plains The early cries of monkeys. The flight Of birds that graze their wings on clouds ••••••••••••••I hear the sound of freedom Paradise by doctrine is attained A covenant to keep for the prize to receive Eternal life in a world unknown. Uncertain The doubts cloud the minds of the faithful ••••••••••••••I hear the sound of prayers Paradise taught. A place of sand and water Cool to the skin. It refreshes the tired soul Carefree. No rules to bar down. Anything goes and flows Like the ebb of the tide, it crashes in and flows out again ••••••••••••••I hear the sound of life Peponi is paradise. Paradise is peponi They are one and the same. They are different Experience dictates their nature. Not all the time. Experience limits their magic. Not all the time. ••••••••••••••I heard beyond the words Peponi, peponi – to the ear it sounds good. So good Paradise without meaning, without image. It just ends. Peponi – the mouth stretches, the lips stars. A smile Paradise – the hurried fall and rise of the tongue. It just ends. Paradise in Swahili. I hear The piano and cello playing. 200 times. In expert hands 2 days only. 2 artists and a singer. The heart skips a beat A cover. A new version of happiness. The music, endless ••••••••••••••I hear the sound of dancing souls My peponi; paradise in Swahili, I hear The laughter, the pains, the joys, the sadness, the memories It is free from dogma. Beyond the serene island and captivating savannah It is the life of 2, shared then with me, to realize at present, my peponi ••••••••••••••I hear the sound of a family Edited by Sinjin, Jun 29 2012, 05:29 PM.
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| Sinjin | Oct 1 2012, 06:56 AM Post #6 |
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Okay, once again I need your help guys. And fast. Anyone who can help me think of a title for my story? (because i dont want to call the series as Dragon King Book 1: blahblahblah watattatata) And also, this is for my workshop for it in school and also so I can complete the book and hopefully go through the process of getting edited and published. >.> but anyway, here's the synopsis/summary/back cover blurb/whatever that you can read to help you with coming up for a title.
And sorry for grammar errors there, I'm in a bit of a hurry. But thanks anyway. ^.^ |
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| Jova | Oct 1 2012, 07:38 AM Post #7 |
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A-Class
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The Curse of the Pack Curse of the Pack Curse of the Dragon The Dragon's Curse |
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| Levvins | Oct 1 2012, 08:03 AM Post #8 |
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*squishes fumloon*
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"Draconic Strife". |
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| 栄 THE Cat | Oct 7 2012, 06:40 PM Post #9 |
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SSS+ Class Pet.
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| Sinjin | Dec 16 2012, 05:42 PM Post #10 |
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"Another of the Dream" (12/12/12) Mortality can be my only witness A life that once was, now draped in dream curtains A life with the same name, different world Where bonds between men were strong That do not deter through time but life Forgotten save for dreams of surreal nostalgia In a life where we met, two souls the die cast I the boy and you the beast A dream of memory's deepest chasm In the distant world that once ruled by men That by nature knows greed and thus ruined him The search for Nirvana destroyed And all he built, all he suffered was for naught And people of distant lands and origins wake To the sundering cries of their gods They too cry that their fates reprieved Primal was the only answer to mend The broken land thus decreed Champions fight for eternity's sake Until all of men's greed disappears A sorrow-filled journey that awaited us Where champions received pity rather than love And admiration only upon falling We were marked as all bounds were A symbol etched in flame that curled Wings sprouting, a curve, a lance A name in foreign glyphs and snow petals The symbol sealed in blood where souls sang As shamans continue ritual processions of old We only cared for the present, not even our own As law now bids us champion of our people And the world broke in fierce battles Parts collapsing, never to be heard again Others surviving just for a day Others dying so that children live All men fought but unlike champions, died With dignity, not knowing the mark's promise And illusion of immortality's reward And still we fought until the last drop of blood When finally the world broke into broken worlds And pipes of life became their gods Rituals of the past soon forgotten as as we Now mourn at our demise A battle that should not have been Somewhere in this new world we live in Beyond the dream-built skies you are Questioning the shared haunting past Of a life never was but was And you look at the cosmos and see our stars Together like twins of fate that shared Resonance and heart beats that call And imaginary scars bring not memories. They are Feelings. Promise of the forgotten past Eyes on life's pilgrimage. To confront not escape It was not by a dream that you left It was by fate that you began the journey ahead of me And darkness pervades the night of recollection I have never held a sword nor killed Yet these hands remember The lines cannot lie, they speak Of a past of sorrow and emptiness Man in his primal knew only blood and the reaper Holding a scythe for another's eternal repose And scars of battles would last beyond oaths Beyond time and life and dreams that haunt A life that cannot be mine. It is Sketched with fluid proficiency and skill Marking the same mark of a beast brother and me The lines cannot lie even when eyes do not see Or have I started believing? Just as destiny is inescapable As we its authors |
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