My thoughts may be scattered but my plea is certain.

Ondoy. Ketsana, to others.

I don’t know what to say or how to say it. I haven’t had the time to sort my thoughts through in my head, really. But I couldn’t just leave my blog untouched. I don’t have the highest traffic, but I figure, if someone by chance stumbles upon it, I want my latest entry to be significant to the place our country is in at the moment.

So here it is.

The storm has FINALLY left the country. The headlines say it’s killed at least 246 Filipinos, and when it passed respective neighboring countries, about 30 in Vietnam and 9 in Cambodia. The casualties sound bad enough, but this statistic doesn’t yet mention the fact that those who survived, lost everything — their houses, their cars, and everything in it.

The storm may be over but people still need our help. They’ll be needing it for months to come. If you were lucky enough to not have been hit or affected badly by the fucker that was Ondoy, please find somewhere to go and something to do. Donate food, comfortable, wearable clothes, towels, blankets, linens, toiletries, anything you’ve got that you think could help them. If you don’t have any extras lying around, then go buy groceries for them. If you can afford to, why not, right?! Now if you’ve really run out of things to donate, like a lot of people have at this point, you can offer your hand to help. There are rescuing missions going on in different places, if you’re willing to go to the different ground zeros around. If you don’t have the whole day, then by all means, please, even if just for a couple hours, just drop by a relief center and help them pack goods, help them organize things, or just help the volunteers already there and make them some coffee. If you’re stuck in the house, then do your part in, at the very least, disseminating information. The things you do now, no matter how big or how small is sure to make a difference.

Volunteers, don’t forget to take care of yourselves. (Whoever you are, I love you for getting off your asses, not being selfish, and doing this!) Get enough sleep. Eat right. Drink water. Keep yourselves dehydrated. Pride is not the issue here. If you feel weak, go sit down and don’t feel ashamed of having to rest or take a break. It’s not a race or a competition. :)

The hype right now is at it’s peak. And I’m a little worried that it’s going to die down sometime soon. When it does, please don’t forget about the disaster. We’re only sending people relief goods, to give them temporary relief. But more and more people need to rebuild their lives from scratch. DO NOT FORGET THIS.

You can Google things manually to find out what you can do, and where exactly you can go. You can head over to the Google page that was already set up. You can simply keep your Facebook or Twitter open. People (including myself) have been updating like crazy and it’s been so helpful to everyone.

Donation drop-offs have popped up everywhere; so you have no excuse. All branches of 711 and Petron accept relief goods. There are the different branches of Red Cross around the country. Schools like Ateneo, La Salle, Poveda, Adamson, San Beda are taking donations most of the day until Friday. So many places to send your relief goods to! Just find someone there to contact and ask details from. You’re online, reading this blog entry, so you can stay online for just a little more and Google your way around helping people.

I wish this entry was a little smoother, more organized and overflowing with more detailed information. For the mess of a blog entry, I’m sorry. But I hope I’ve managed to convince a few people to help out actively. We need you. They need us.

Stop the hate and spread the love, is all I’ve got to say. ♥

Strangers in Love & Loss

I was crossing a concrete jungle, approaching the road I was going to cross to get to the bus terminal.

I spotted the backs of a couple. She clung to him, tightly, her arms around his midsection, face half-buried in his chest. He looked… hesitant, a half-hug in return for hers. In a moment of judgment, I thought, profoundly, “Ugh.”

My headphones were on, which made it easy to look away and attempt to ignore them.

I walked on until they were right behind me. I didn’t mean to look back, but I couldn’t help myself.

As soon as I did, I saw her face. Where I thought I would see a couple in an embrace of young love, unnecessary public displays of affection and disgusting clinginess, I saw just clinginess, but the kind that’s brought on by heartbreak and desperation.

Her face was wet with tears, her expression wrought with pain and, she knew it, in her heart of hearts, inevitable loss. I couldn’t hear her, but I just knew she was saying “Don’t go. Please.”

I turned away, walked on, and boarded the bus with the look on her face ingrained on my mind.

I wonder what their story is. I hope she’ll be well.

Banchetto Diaries: Fake Mexican Accents & German Sausages

Banchetto is a food fair every Friday night (or Saturday mornings if you want to be technical about it) from midnight til about noon, where they close half of Emerald Ave. in Ortigas to accommodate tents and tents of all kinds of food. Burgers, siopao, shawarma, isaw, crepes, sausages, pasta, pizza… I could go on and on… and onnnn. *drool*

I’m there almost every week. Of course I see all kinds of people.

Here, I share that Banchetto is awesome, not only for its food, but for the people you come across.

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One past Friday’s theme seemed to be Sausages As Ordered By Confused Mexican Wannabes

I was waiting in line for the Schublig sausages I’ve been craving for the entire week.

Three bald guys were standing in line right next to me, each with thick silver chains hanging around their necks, and, I think, variations of facial hair, probably to make up for the voluntary lack of head hair. They were talking about the Awesomeness Of Banchetto and the Apparent Yumminess Of The Mexican Food Available At The Stall Right Next To The One We Were In Line At.

These were Filipino men… Who thought they were Mexican. Or Latino. Or something close to that.

“That’s real Mexicano food right thurr, yo!” said one. I kid you not.
“We best be hittin’ up that joint later on.” said the other.
“Don’tchu got that Mexican shiyet where you come from, bro?” said bald guy #1 to the bald guy who was, apparently, really Mexican somehow.
“Hellyeahh!” or something, said the Bald Real-Mexican.

At this point, I forced myself to stop listening. It was becoming too much of an effort to stop myself from laughing in their faces and yell “HALLER DID YOU HIT YOUR HEADS ON THE WAY HERE?!”

I concentrated on the sausages Ate was cooking for the Somekinda-Mexican Bald Guys and me. Yum. Drool. Couldn’t wait to eat.

A few minutes of pretend deafness, I noticed an actual void where the fake Latino accents and machismo used to be. There was only one Bald Guy left. I think I heard someone say “We’re just gon’ get some drinks, meng.”

Remaining Bald Guy comes up closer to the stall and goes, in this hard Tagalog accent — better than mine — “Ate. Asan na po yung Hung-garrrr-yan sow-sej?”

I think I almost facepalmed for real.