Ka Andres lalake ako!! Lalake!

Habang nagpapalipas ako ng oras sa harap ng isang lawa na animoy isang mineral water sa linaw, napaisip ako na mayron pa rin palang mga lugar kung saan makakaisip ka ng walang gumagambala sa iyo tulad na lamang ng ginagawa ko ngayon. Oo, ako ay nag-iisip. Tinatanong ko ng paulit-ulit ang aking sarili ng sandamak na mga katanungan. Tinatanong ko ang aking sarili bakit ganito ang style ng buhok ko, bakit ganito ako manamit, bakit mas magaling ako sa spanish kaysa sa ingles, bakit ang liit ko. bakit ang daming babaeng nagkakandarapa sakin, bakit ganito ang mukha ko at higit sa lahat bakit ako isip ng isip. pero hindi iyon ang pinakamatindi sa lahat, ang pinakamatinding katanungan sa lahat ay kung isa ba akong repormista o rebolusyonista. Nakasulat na ako ng isang libro tungkol doon ngunit hanggang ngayon ay hindi ko pa rin masagot. Napakaraming mga katanungang gumagambala sa aking isipin kaya naman hindi ko napansin na may anino na palang papalapit kung saan ako nag-iisip.

Kinikilatis ko ang taong nasa aking harapan, lumipas ang ilang minuto na wala sa amin ang nagsasalita ngunit hindi ko pa rin siya mamukhaan. Napansin na rin niya sa wakas kaya naman nagpakilala na rin siya sa akin.

"Magandang umaga binata, mukhang nakalimutan niyo na kung sino ako. Hayaan niyo akong magpakilalang muli. Ako si Andres Bonifacio, Ka Andres for short"

"Aaaahhhhh hmmmmm aaaahhhh hmmmmmm ahh huh?"

"Pinuno ng mga taong handang lumaban para sa kalayaan nating mga Pilipino?"

"ah tama, aking naalala na kung sino ang taong nasa aking harapan ngayon na gumambala sa pagmumuni-muni. Ano ang sadya at dito mo pa ako napiling kausapin?"

"aking nabasa nobelang napakaganda. Aking naisip, ang gumawa nito marahil ay mayroong pagnanasang makaalpas sa mga pagmamalupit ng mga Kastila"

"Ano ang iyong pinupunto?"

"Sumali ka sa aming samahan ng tayo ay maging malaya"

"kung iyo ngang nabasa ang aking nobela, dapat iyong napagtanto na maski sa sarili ko ay hindi ko masagot iyang katanungan mo. In short, i'm a confused man, man. I don't even know who or what I really am. you get it right?"

"tol, isa lang ang masasabi ko, ANG BAKLA MO! umayos ka ah! akala ko pa naman matino kang tao, ilustrado ka pa man din. sana sa aking pagbalik ay alam mo na kung ano o sino ka talaga. pucha sinayang mo oras ko"

At natapos din agad ang aming pag-uusap. nadagdagan pa tuloy ang mga katanungan sa aking isipan. Bakla ba ako? hindi naman di ba? Gosh

inilathala ni: Ellie Japzon

History Make Up Class.

Sorry, guys, medyo tinamad talaga ako dito.

History Make Up Class.

Sorry, guys, medyo tinamad talaga ako dito.

Ang Pangako Ng Isang Pulotgata.

Isinulat ni Maggie Dimaano.


Pinipilit ako ng aking Josefina na tumakas sa pagkakapiit ko sa Dapitan.

"Kahit isang araw ng bakasiyon lang, Mahal ko," wika niya.

Pupunta daw kami sa Hong Kong upang mamili daw ng kaniyang mga kagustuhan, at kung aking mamarapatin ay pati daw ang aking gugustuhin ay kaniyang bibilhin. Matapos ay maglalayag kami papuntang Europa upang maghapunan, dumalo sa isang sayawan, at mag... magkasiyahan.

"Ngunit, kailangan kong makauwi bago mag-alas dose, sapagkat kailangan kong tustusan ang pangangailangan ng aking ama," nagugunita kong wika niya.

O ang aking Josefina ay parang munting Cinderella sa pagbigay ng kaniyang mga kundisyon. O kay sarap nga namang makasama ang aking giliw sa isang araw na ito.

Ngunit, ngunit...

Mahal ko rin ang aking bayan. Mahal na mahal. Hindi ko kailanmang gugustuhing suwayin ang aking bayan. Hindi ko kailanmang gugustuhing balewalain ang mga paratang ng aking bayan. Kaya't... Kaya't kailangan ko siyang tanggihan.

O giliw ko, patawarin mo ako. Isang pangako lamang ang aking maaaring maihandog para sa'yo...

Pagkatapos ng aking pagkakapiit, at maging ganap malaya na sa kasalanang hindi naman talaga isang kasalanan - ang pagmamahal ba sa sariling bayat at ipahiwatig ang mga katotohanang nangyayari sa baya'y isang kasalanan?

Iniisip kong isang umaga'y iimbitahan ko ang aking Josefina sa aking tahanan. Kung maaari'y paghahandaan ko siya ng isang masarap na umagahan, lalo na't nakahain din ang kaniyang mga paboritiong prutahe, na kung aki'y kakayani'y ako mismo ang magluluto.

Matapos ng umagaha'y paghahandugan ko siya ng isang awitin, at bibigyang surpresa sa pag-alok sa kaniya ng aming kasal Oo! Tiyak na tiyak matutuwa ang aking Josefina! Kahit pa'y tanggihan o parusahan pa kami ng mga pari, aki'y ipagpapatuloy! Walang makapipigil sa aming pagmamahalan!

Matapos ay maglalayag kami patungong Hong Kong upang ihatid ang kaniyang amain. Hindi maaaring malaman ng kaniyang amain ang tungkol sa aming kasal! Tiyak na magagalit at ilalayo kami sa isa't isa. Hindi ako makapapayag.

Matapos ay maglalayag kaming dalawa patungong Alemaniya. Iikot ko siya sa buong Alemaniya, at tiyak na matutuwa siya. Lalo pa't napakaganda ng mga tanawin doon!

Tutuloy kami ng Paris upang mamahinga at mag... magpahinga, at mag... magpakasaya, na nararapat lamang sapagkat kami'y aming nasa pulotgata. Sana'y mabuo ang aming pagmamahalan.

Dadalhin ko rin siya sa Italia. Kami ay tatanaw ng mga butuin sa kalawakan sa damuhan, habang pinaghahadungan ko siya ng aking mga tula. Alam ko'y gugustuhin niya talaga iyon. Lalo pa't nakikiliti ng aking hininga ang kaniya kalamanan. Malay nati'y bigla kaming makatanaw ng mga bulalakaw... haaay, kay sarap. Lalo pa't maging malay din nati'y doon na kami mismo sa damuhan mag... magpaka... magpakasaya...

TOK! TOK! TOK!

"Jose! Jose! Mahal ko!"

Naputol ang aking pagplano sa mga tambol at katok sa aking pintuan. Pumasok si Josefina, umiiyak...

"Jose! Jose!" sa kaniyang paghahagulgol.

"Bakit ka umiiyak, Mahal ko?"

"Iuuwi ako ni Papa sa Maynila. Nalaman niya ang balak nating magpakasal! Oh Jose! Magkakahiwalay tayo!"

Natigil ang aking mundo, na parang pumasan sa akin ang paghahagipit, pagmamalabis, at kahirapan ng aking bayan!

Ang aking pangako'y bigla na lamang naglaho...

Noli's Pulitzer Prize

Esteemed colleagues, professors, mentors, avid readers, to the well distinguished writers of our generation, to the Pulitzer Committee and the Columbia University, to the Literary World, to my fellow countrymen, a pleasant day to all of you.

A man's work, that in which he takes pride in, is a product of his passion, of his soul. To be given the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction for the Noli Me Tangere, to be given such honor and recognition, I am left vulnerable in the arms of deep gratitude as my passion goes not unnoticed and my soul evidently seen.

For all its faults, the Noli Me Tangere has served my purposes: purposes reaching beyond the crevices of lost years while tapping the minds of people whose eyes reflect mine. If it is not the skinny nickel-plate, perfectly shaped bullet which an Academian can fire and only a rough pebble picked up from a brook, still it has struck the head of that two-faced Goliath that in the Philippines is called friar-rule and maladministration. It is only fair that they should now raise a chorus of disapproval, an interminable outcry; I do not deny them that right. The pen is mightier than the sword; it would seem that the wound then is deeper, much more fatal. The wound is there and it is grave; what do I care now about the weapon? Unable to deny the truth of the contents, let them now snatch at that fashion, the superficial appearances; a dog bites the stone that wounds him.

That being said, I am honored of such prestigious recognition. I cannot begin to explain and much more express to all of you my sincerest of gratitude. The Pulitzer donning the covers of my books and its future publication, it would serve as a laurel of excellence directed toward the world upon a work so personal aiming to change an archipelago. It would then seem improper.

For the rest of it, if I have detractors, cynics and skeptics, on the other hand I do not lack admirers, enthusiasts and supporters; one compensates for the other. Standing before you about to accept this honor, compensation has indeed come in the most random and unexpected of things. It would be foolish, yes, very unwise to ask the powerful whom I have offended to reward one who has told them the bitter truth; I consider myself lucky to be still alive. That is the only prize I have won, the only prize I feel righteous to accept, the only prize. Only demigods require men to kiss the hand which they have been slapped.

What I would have really hated to hear would have been the applause and congratulations, instead of the boos and curses of my enemies, for this would have been a proof that my attack backfired. Since I wrote, not for myself, nor aspire to be a porter of the University and of the prestigious Pulitzer, but to expose abuses and unmask hypocrisies, what do I care for the rest now that I have achieved my purpose? I have won the Pulitzer as you said, and for that I am grateful truly, but I do not deserve this. I have won, but is this really what I, my people, want?

Noli Me Tangere. The book has not yet been judged and cannot be judged rightly because its effects are still being felt. When the men whom it pillories and the abuses which it fights have disappeared from my country's political life, when a generation arises which does not itself participate in the present crimes and immoralities, when Spain puts an end to these struggles by means of open and liberal reforms, in brief, when we shall have gone, and with us our self-love, our vanities and petty passions, then Spaniards and Filipinos, shall be the judge of the book freely and impartially, without fanaticism or spite.

Perhaps the time is not yet.

I cannot accept the Pulitzer, I humbly denounce my right to the award.


On my Hand,
Jose Rizal






By: Noel Luciano

Life...

(Rich... poor... healthy... sick... life... death... who really decides these things for us. Everyday people suffer for having done nothing wrong but at the same time people who have wronged more than themselves continue to bask in the luxuries of life. Who then decides the life we deserve? Or are our fates decided like dots on a dice?)

(People say that we mold our own destinies. But the truth is none of us have a say in what we become. It's like 2 sides of a coin... no one can truly tell when it flips heads or tails. When it happens it happens... and it is ultimately irreversible.)

(There are only 2 types of people in this world. The lucky ones and the unlucky ones. You can be rich and lose it all the next day... or you can be a pauper and wake up with a sack of gold lying beside you the next morning. It's hard to believe sometimes but we see it everyday.)

(Children born with incurable diseases or some are even so unlucky they die before breathing any fresh air at all. The innocent framed and convicted by the utterly influential, powerful and wealthy can only ponder and ask themselves what wrong have they done to justify their inescapably harsh fate. And then there are the blessed fathers of our so sacred church... even their radiant yet fake smiles and kind gestures hide not the horrors that they are so capable of. Yet as much as many know of this they can do nothing but cower in fear for in this society we live in, the voices that are truly worth listening to are the voices exiled and left unheard.)

*sigh*

Another successful emo session! Hmmm... I should really put this in a book. But how... It's gotta be more dramatic than bla bla bla bla bla...

Aha! Eureka! I'll just use 2 boys to live out the tragedy in my book. Now... What should I name them... Brispin and Casilio?... No no no... Basilio and Crispin? Yes! Perfect! Then there mother goes mad from all the chaos... *yawns*... but let's save that for another day... Time to get some well deserved rest...

Pulitzer