BOOK REVIEW: The Subtle Art of Not Giving A F*ck

I think I found the book The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck on instagram, propped up beside a lovely coffee mug with a tear-jerking caption that can make Michelle Obama cry. Somewhere around 2016, this book is a hit because number one: it appears on every book website I visit, and number two: damn, the F word sounds nice. Haha.

This is probably the first book that agrees with my rather careless life decisions. Am I REALLY careless? Are my virtues malleable and therefore easily persuaded? Or maybe something more: that I wouldn’t pay attention on my make-up because I have to update my résumé, or I would deliberately pick ukay-ukay than any high-end clothes shop because I don’t know… its way cheaper?

Then it dawned on me: we all have different filters in making decisions. Mine is self-improvement and happiness—EVERYTHING ELSE DOESN’T MATTER. I have known POVERTY since the day I was born, so I would rather be broke and happy than to be rich and miserable. Fuck it all. Therefore, maybe I was never really reckless jerk at all.

No copyright infringement intended 

Sorry Paris Hilton, I don’t want to be you. Please don’t get offended. I mean, I can’t be you because I can’t stomach the horrors of blind dating and fake flattery. YOU CAN. Who likes to be anybody’s trophy girlfriend? It sucks.

Choices, the value of suffering, and finding your self-identity by NOT giving a fuck at all—these are the things that might get you mind blown within 146 pages. It’s really short, actually, given that I’ve read it on PDF. But it’s worth reading, if you are willing to get your ego crushed so new perspective will blossom.

 I could kiss the author right now. Seriously.

Confessions of a Past Teacher

"Mam, I miss you!"

"Mam, graduate na po ako, thank God!"

"Uy Mam, kamusta ka na?"

Me on my demo teaching: circa 2013

Last Tuesday, may nag-pm sa akin na dati kong estudyante. Sabi nya patapos na sya sa senior high at handa na syang mag-college. Dun pa lang sa "Mam, I missed you" naluha na ako.

Then it dawned on me: dalawang taon na 'kong wala sa classroom.

Ibig sabihin, yung estudyante ko sa Summer Camp 2013, Grade 8 na ngayon.

Nasubukan ko na ring magturo ng grade 4. Ibig sabihin, yung mga estudyante ko naman sa Reading Camp 2014 (wala akong kadala-dala, nag year 2 pa ko!) , grade 6 na ngayon. Pa-graduate na rin. 

Noong nag practice teaching naman ako noong 2015, yung mga grade 10 ko noon... tapos na sa senior high school.

Ang bilis ng panahon. Dati lang wala pa akong lisensya magturo, ngayon LPT na ko-- at yung mga estudyante ko noon, mga dalaga at binata na ngayon.

Umiiyak akong nagkwento sa kapatid kong si Trisha--mainly because, palagi naman akong nagku-kwento sa kanya--na hindi ko na alam kung tama pa ba itong ginagawa ko. Kung may kwenta pa ba akong tao, o nagagawa ko pa ba ang trabaho ko. Mas mabuti pa sa pagiging guro, masaya ako. MAHIRAP NA MASAYA. Ubos na yung lalamunan ko, pero okay lang. Wala na akong pang-luho, pero ayos lang. Nakakabusog din naman ang Skyflakes at isaw, bahala na. Stressed at burnout na kaming mga co-teachers ko (at madalas, nagkakainitan na kami sa sobrang pagod)... but still, okay lang.

Malungkot ako kasi parang matagal-tagal na rin ata akong nagpapanggap--isama mo pa ang mga damit na binili ko para lokohin ang sarili ko--na ITO, ito ang kailangan ko para mabuhay. Pero hindi. Nagpasilaw ako sa sarili kong karuwagan na hindi ko alam kung anong madilim ang dumaratal--kalungkutan, kawalang dahilan, at pagiging ligaw. Mas mahirap umahon nang di mo alam kung saan o kung anong masakit--hindi mo alintana kung anong pumapatay sa'yo nang unti-unti.

Halo-halo na yung vocabulary ko: depressed ako ngayon, bahala na.

Mark Hanson was right: You have to drown yourself to pointless things to know it doesn't make you happy. Playing with boys and chasing money will not ultimately lead to happiness. Gaining WORTHLESS SOCIAL STATUS is nothing in comparison to living a life of integrity, decency, honesty, truth, and dignity. Facebook likes mean NOTHING if you will not gain a certain amount of dignity.

Buong buhay ko, dignidad lang ang hinihingi ko. Reputasyon lang ang pinagpapaguran ko. Okay lang kahit walang boyfriend, basta maalagaan ko lang ang dignidad at reputasyon kong ang hirap-hirap buuin kapag "masyado pang bata" ang tingin nila sa'yo.

Nakuha ko naman somehow: except, sa maling paraan. Sa maling "ako". Hindi alam ng tao na hindi lang makeup ang alam ko--alam ko rin ang plot ng Moby Dick, Frankenstein, at The Great Gatsby. Paborito kong author sila Charles Bukowski, Edgar Allan Poe, Kurt Vonnegut, Maya Angelou, at JD Salinger. Ayoko nga lang sa Old English, lalo na kay Shakespeare, dahil galit ako sa archaic words but still, English major ako.

Hindi ganun katalino, pero may ibubuga ako at palaging may bala.

Sobrang ikli ng buhay at sobrang bilis ng panahon para pag aksayahan ng panahon ang WALANG KWENTA. Kaunting pake lang ang mararanasan natin sa ikli ng lifespan ng normal na tao. Iniklian ni Lord for the same reason na non-sensical kasi tayo mabuhay, aksayado daw tayo sa binibigay na oxygen ng puno.  Because God saw that man was becoming increasingly more corrupt the longer they live. Haha. 

Naliligaw ako ng landas. Kailangan ko ng printer.

Why am I even there?

This is the part where one faces reality as a cruel trap--on the brink of our collapse. Amidst all distractions and temporary glory, we have to painfully cling to our ideals.

On Mocha Uson

Sabi nila, ang argument ng iba, somebody has to be given a second chance regardless of her past lifestyle, that we are all judgmental jerks and we should give Mocha another shot.

Pero dude, hindi nga sya exotic dancer, naging political prostitute naman sya. Bayaran pa rin. Never had a personal opinion; she will defend the administration whatever the cost of her twisted logic. GANUN PA RIN NAMAN. I have yet to see a Mocha blog entry that despises or criticizes the President. Ang bias diba? Hindi ba sila nagkakasala? Hindi ba nagkakamali ang bansang 'to?

Let’s end this once and for all: her present, actually, has no difference at all. Iba nga lang ng platform.

POEM: The Ladder

My eyes are starting to wander,
let my mind grow asunder!
I wear so much shame in my head.
but gods must've love to see me bled
or, I don't know.
maybe its a responsibility they bestowed.
( must I lay myself upon their Pantheons? )
I don't care anymore,
let thy name lose its reputation,
somebody should stop settling the score.
there's nothing really special up the ladder.


(Danica Ann Niegas)

BOOK REVIEW: Gapo by Lualhati Bautista

Mostly, novels have two possible outcomes: the good, and a tragic. The resolution may disappoint us, making us understand the frailty of human—on the other hand, there are stories that positively sheds a light of hope for the readers. In the end, the “absoluteness” of some conclusions are far more predictable than others.

The book Gapo, by Lualhati Baustista is way beyond that. Talking about the love-hate (and rather exploitative) relationship between Filipinos and Americans, it made me see that having no change is worse than a tragic ending at all.

Gapo by Lualhati Bautista talks about the tale of Magda, a prostitute in Olongapo, and Michael, a half-Filipino whose heart is seething with anger for Yankees. After a series of struggle between those them, and the clashes of their ideals, Magda still tragically becomes pregnant of her “boyfriend”, which later reveals already a married man.

This circular story sinks hopelessness deeper that after reading, you must accept that reality is so much complicated that what it looks like. No force on earth cannot change the way of Olongapo. No wannabe hero must dare to solve the problems of a sick society. The Filipino-American relationship roots deeper than the garbage exports and lustful Yankees being thrown in our land—for it is ingrained in our mindset, that terrible and disgusting colonial mentality.

I also like the commentaries in-between: Bautista talks about unfair quality of export products, how we are so accepting of their substandard products, and how Filipinos can almost die for the elusive American dream. There’s also a lot of subplot that makes the story alive, like Modesto, Jun, and William.

Overall, the only round character capable of shifting viewpoints is Magda. At the end of the novel, upon knowing that she’s been pregnant again by a Yankee, she ended seeing Michael’s viewpoints. She finally understands that illusory fairytale that every prostitute wants are just blinders that makes Americans more exploitative, and Filipinos more abused and beaten. 

People and Choices

“Neither of those men realized your worth,

because you failed to value yourself highly enough.

A man does not know a woman’s value.

She is the one who determines her value.

The higher you price yourself,

the more he will realize what you are really worth…”

( Woman at point Zero, Nawal El Saadwi )

------- 0o0o0o0 ------

When people walks up to you, their first impressions of you will stick in them. Some may be satisfied by what they see, others not. Some lunatics might follow you around, know every corners of you and even chase who you are and why do you act as such. It doesn’t stop. The extent of a man’s determination to know your soul is both pitiful, charming, and impressive—all at the same time.

But there will be a time when you can’t hold the game anymore—that you need to put your foot down so the truth will eventually spit out. It’s not that you’re whining, nor demanding; not even in the slightest hint that you are being cruel. It’s just that in relationships, people must know where they stand. Who you are in their lives. Which parts are real and which are lies.

People without labels are only better off in their separate ways. At least, they can play their dangerous games without hurting each other so much.