Pag-Usad (song)

 

photo taken in 2021

PAG-USAD (song)

Natapos din, ngunit hindi nakamit ang ninanais, ang pinaghirapan mo.

Hindi lahat ng layunin ay makakamtan, 'di ibig sabihing ito'y walang kahulugan.

Maglakad at maglakbay, ikumpas ang iyong kamay sa pintig ng iyong puso kahit na...

Tila naisantabi ang layunin.

Nakapikit ang katabi at nasisilaw pa sa liwanag ng pag-asa

Ayos lang, hawakan ang kanyang kamay.

At magpatuloy sa pag-usad...

At sa iyong paglakad, ang daan ma'y mabato

O baka maputik ang tatahakan mo.

Natural lang yan, may daan ding aspalto

Huwag mag-alala, kasama mo ako...

Maglakad at maglakbay, ikumpas ang iyong kamay sa pintig ng iyong puso kahit na...

Tila naisantabi ang layunin.

Nakapikit ang katabi at nasisilaw pa sa liwanag ng pag-asa

Ayos lang, hawakan ang kanyang kamay.

At magpatuloy sa pag-usad...

-Ivee B.

When I look at the sunset

 

Sometimes when I look at the sunset,

I want to grab it with both hands and keep it in my pocket.

To go outside & breathe it in.

Because windows don’t do sunsets any justice.

And curtains can make you oblivious,

whether you’ve drawn them yourself

or not.

It compels me to be there for it.

 

I need to, I think.

I may miss it.

I may look the other way one moment,

snatched by a thought, a person, a worry,

and turn back around

only to exhale in regret.

The sun has set,

the sky’s pink-orange hue has thinned out to blue-black-grey.

 

Now you understand why

I need to chase it,

‘till I get to sunset’s end

and a door is waiting for me to claim it.

The claiming period is a few minutes so best hurry.

Or I may have to wait for tomorrow.

 

Maybe that’s what sunsets are here for.

Not to cap the day

But to give a preview of tomorrow.

If ever there is one.

- Ivee B

 

 

Thank you, Eyes

 

It’s 11.30pm. I am writing this on the last night of having myopia which I’ve had for 24 years. I will be undergoing LASIK tomorrow, a procedure that I hope, I know will change everything.

Yes, I was formally prescribed glasses at 13, but by then my eye grade was at least 100. I remember having difficulty reading things written on the blackboard as early as 10 years old. As a child, I was not one to tell my caregivers what was wrong, or express my needs.

So I just pushed through, thinking that blur was normal and I was just abnormal for having to move to the front seat of the classroom to copy stuff from the blackboard. Then came high school. One of my prospective schools required a comprehensive medical exam. The school doctor made me read the eye chart, and I could no longer recite the last few lines. She asked me to see an optometrist, and to tell my parents. I remember the feeling of first wearing my prescribed glasses at 13—wow, the world is THIS clear? I was living in darkness. Oh and only then did I have a clear view of the map of acne on my face. 

At 20, my kind cousin, ate Urice, gave me a powerful, empowering college graduation gift- contact lenses. She accompanied me to the optometrist, taught me how to use contacts, and guided me on how to purchase contacts on my own the next time I needed new ones. I got the monthly ones, which cost 220 per month. Since then I rarely wore glasses again, only doing so at home or when going on long trips. I kept a mental note to myself to always have a job so I could support my habit/need of wearing contacts. Add to that- contacts solution, and spare pairs, just in case. That was my addiction, or at least my "luho". Not that costly, but required consistency.

Contacts changed my life, and gave me a new sense of self-esteem. It was empowering as I entered the young adult life. But it also compelled me to be extra conscientious and sometimes fastidious. For instance, in my early 20s straight out of college, my first-ever job involved a LOT of field work in the Cordilleras. This meant bus rides and sleeping in homes in different communities. I had to always consider these two plastic things stuck in my eyeballs as much as I had to think about my job. I got used to it eventually, and the clarity these two plastic thingies provided helped a ton, outweighing the periodic inconveniences.

It was my litmus test for dating too- will you be patient enough as I conducted my 10-minute ritual of removing, cleansing, and disinfecting these two tacky things on my eyes, and putting it back on? Will you help me blindly find a missing piece in case I accidentally drop one on the floor?

One time, I accidentally dropped one of my contacts inside a drum of water, and an ex-boyfriend had to “dive” into the drum to retrieve it. The relationship didn’t last, because although he passed this particular litmus test, he failed in all others.

In the last few years leading to today, I’ve had “vision scares” – one doctor even tagging me as a “Glaucoma suspect.” One clinic in QC required me to undergo all kinds of tests, only to say, “Come back in 6 months,” with no clear diagnosis or next step. Another vision scare was me going on runs and all of a sudden not being able to see, because my contact lenses would wiggle their way to the back of my eyeballs. I got into a running accident in February because of this, falling flat on my face on the pavement, one knee completely bleeding, my pants ripped, and me calling to wake up my husband early in the morning to come pick me up. By now prolonged wearing of glasses makes me dizzy, as they're farther from the eyes and has a different prescription, so I can’t wear them outdoors comfortably.

In hindsight, throughout my “fully conscious”, mature-enough existence, I never really saw the world as it is, or how I think it’s “supposed” to look like. Is there even one way of seeing?

That moment at 13 in the optical shop, when I first saw myself and my surroundings clearly, it was an AHA! moment, a moment of me realizing that how I viewed the world was not only unclear, it was inaccurate. “So, all along, other people SEE differently than I do?” – I remember thinking.

Tomorrow, the laser will cut through my cornea, creating a flap. The flap is opened, then the laser will proceed to do its precise adjustments inside my eye. Ahh, technology. Beautiful. And slightly overwhelming.

I’ve never had surgery in my life, and I sure hope I will never need one. This will be a first. Just the thought of having these major organs, these precious eyes, cut by a human-made machine; and the thinner-than-plastic surface of the cornea oh so gently sealed back into place by the masterful hands of a doctor… is a daunting thought. My eyes will never be the same again, and I am more than grateful.

Thank you, current cornea. Tomorrow, you will be renewed. Something will cut through you, and you will be in different form in less than 24 hours from the time I finish writing this.

Thank you, eyes, for always attempting to see, even when it’s almost always hard. Thank you for adjusting and readjusting, for blinking, for crying, when need be.

Thank you for guiding, for absorbing, and registering this beautiful visual world unto my brain.

Thank you for being with me, and still opening up every day, even when all that’s greeting you is always a big blur - the ceiling, the people around me, the chances I sometimes fail to acknowledge, the changes I delay making… or myself.

Even in darkness, you try your best. Thank you, thank you!

And I can’t wait for you to finally see 20/20, or close enough, so at least there will be no need to always try so hard, to pretend to be conscientious… to no longer fail to appreciate what this life still has to offer, and truly capture what’s right in front me.

<3 Ivee

Joni Mitchell’s “Blue” Turning 50, and How this Album Changed Me in a Big Way

 

Joni Mitchell’s “Blue” turned 50 on June 22, 2021. I don’t know about you, but 1971 seemed to be a year when the musical gods and goddesses decided to shower endless inspiration to songwriters, singers, and musicians. There are just SO many great songs & albums released in 1971, well in the 70s overall.

I have always been an old soul and musically, moreso. Joni’s “Blue” album has always been around my space. I mean, I was born a decade a half plus minus after its release.

For years since college I’ve had files of Joni’s music in my old floppy disks (kidding, CDs). I don’t even know how I had them, I think my older brother Thommuel put them there, back when making mixtapes was tantamount to saying “you matter” or “sorry” or “hello”.

But I was only really interested in some Joni songs like “Big Yellow Taxi” and “Woodstock” and “Both Sides Now,” and didn’t care for the rest. Maybe listening to and appreciating certain types of songs require a level of depth and emotional slash musical maturity, which I didn’t have back then (I dont know if I have it now but whatever).

So years passed, I would sing Both Sides Now, Circle Game (which my musician friend introduced to me), and Big Yellow Taxi, plus Woodstock, but that was it. They were all songs, you know, songs you sing, you play, because if you supposedly like folk you should at least know some Joni songs.

One day in 2017, I was using the computer in an internet shop (the one at Porta Vaga which eventually closed. FYI non-Baguio residents, Porta Vaga is this mini-mall here in Baguio that has the cleanest 2^nd floor restroom in the history of clean mall restrooms). Our laptop at home was wonky and I needed to do some random computer work. The caucasian ( is it racist to say caucasian) guy two computers away was talking so loud to whoever he was conversing with online, almost shouting. So I put on the headphones provided (which in hindsight is kinda not the most hygeinic thing to do), opened YouTube, and looked for music to play. I cannot remember how I stumbled upon Blue. I think it was a recommendation from YouTube, or something that was auto-played after several songs, or the musical spirits possessing me to type “jni mitchl blu” (admit it you type like that too). I can’t remember.

But lo and behold. A Case of You played. And I just found myself... dumbstruck. I paused. Listened. Then I found myself...crying. Crying! Seriously. Right there in the middle of a sad old internet shop. Not dramatic-levels-crying- with-runny-swelling-nose, but still-poised-with-tears-gently-running-down-your-cheeks type of crying. Then I opened an entire playlist, a playlist of Joni Mitchell’s “Blue” album, and I ended up staying for another hour at that net shop.

The feeling it gave me.. it was almost like it carved a hollowness in my heart. You know witnessing something so beautiful it makes you both happy and melancholic, because it’s SO beautiful, it consumes you? Hmmm... so beautiful it’s limitless but then you can’t really do anything about it, except, witness it?

I don’t know what I was going through that time; maybe “Blue” simply echoed my current inner world that time, made it tangible. Joni’s voice in that particular album was tainted, or embellished, with something that’s not sadness but also not joy... not dread, not anticipation... not frustration and not celebration. Not the excitement of love nor the agony of it. She didn’t sound like she was madly in love, nor did she sound like she experienced unrequited love. She didn’t sound like she was angry nor did she sound grateful.

None of those.

So many things it’s not. I guess her voice, her singing, her music in that album... felt very impermanent, transitory.

Very nuanced, like...how everything really is. Unlike many if not most songs, love songs in particular, that would either say “I Will Always Love You” and “I don’t wanna miss a thing,” Joni said things like “All i really want our love to do is to bring out the best in me and in you too” and “I made my baby say goodbye” and “i could drink a case of you and i would still be on my feet.” (SO thankful she didn’t write, “i could drink a case of you and I can’t move" or something. Thank goodness she said she said she is still able to stand firmly.)

Joni's self-portrait

Listening to Blue the 1st time, learning its songs, eventually falling in love with A Case of You, studying and listening to it for a full year before I even had the guts to sing it, really opened new doors for me as a singer. Not only did I get to explore new singing techniques (for instance jumping from one octave to another, from two vocal placements making sure you stay with the pitch!), new guitar tunings (Joni has over 51 tunings), and new ways with words, it has also affirmed that we need to continue staying vulnerable and embrace our experiences fully, with no judgment. That's how Joni has always been, even in her personal life. She had her own struggles, had several heartbreaks, gave up a child for adoption in her young adulthood, eventually rekindling with her daughter after many decades but not having a great relationship with her as they were basically strangers.

Of course I do not advocate for that struggling, starving, sad artist image. We do not always need suffering to create beautiful, worthwhile, meaningful things. Also it’s not always about us. I’m sure Joni was and is not always writing about herself, as it would obviously be a limited way of sharing. We don’t know everything, and our filter won’t suffice to represent the bajillion ways other people filter similar experiences, like heartbreak, or happiness, or going back home to California (e.g. her song “California”).

Joni didn’t bother erase her femininity to look like she could rock. She was wearing these lovely dresses while out-guitaring, out-writing many male artists (ehem, Bob Dylan, who sounds like nails on a chalkboard, sorry. Many say he didn’t deserve the Nobel prize, and I don’t have any opinions about that, but all i know is my head hurts every time I listen to him sing. Like a Rolling Stone and Blowing in the Wind are tolerable but that’s basically it). She didn’t oversexualize herself too, not that it matters, but she was just...herself. A person who can write songs, who can sing, who can play, and she happened to be female. No biggie.

Vulnerability is a central theme in Blue, and not in a fragile, shaky, obsessive, neurotic, desperate way, but in a very self-aware and almost unapologetic sense. My struggle as a person has always been avoiding showing vulnerabilities, to appear normal and likeable. I’m the LAST person who will ask for help or reach out, swear. I always perceive myself as the helpful person, not the needy one. I grew up pretty independent, fending for myself and being left alone since god knows when, so I’m used to really taking care of myself, but of course we all need a little help sometimes, right? We all wear masks, for sure (and I don’t mean facemasks to prevent COVID-19 transmission). We need masks & mild pretenses to survive in a supposedly civilized society. What I’m learning in the last few years is to not wear a mask, but maybe just a translucent veil. It’s OK to be vulnerable. It’s OK to need help sometimes, to make mistakes and not carry everything.

What makes us who we are, whether artist or person, are these vulnerabilities. Maybe it’s what makes us relatable. Joni is a voice that sings how she herself made bad choices, mistakes, and had ambivalence over many things, yet she's OK. How empowering.

“Blue” is the album that makes you like it more and more every time you encounter it, like genuine people you grow more fond of every time you meet them.

That’s it. Genuine. Joni’s “Blue” album simply reminds us, me, that at the end of the day when everything is stripped, when there is no fanfare, no loud drums, no Facebook posts to collect likes and hearts, and just your voice, or your head hitting the pillow... are you happy? Are you yourself? Are you at peace? Did you hurt anyone? Do you regret your life and your past actions? Did you make the most of yesterday?

“All I really want to do... is to bring out the best in me and in you too” - Joni sings in the first track, All I Want.

May we always just wish to bring out and see the best in every person we encounter, and in ourselves too.

-ivee

{{{btw to celebrate Joni's "Blue" I did a tribute last June 22. :) }}

 photo credits:

1. Joni Mitchell's Blue cover art from covermesongs.com (altered)

2.  "Joni Mitchell self-portrait" by Jenny J is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

 

The Lost Art of Burning CD Mixes, And Other Niceties

Left- CD Mix from my friend Iza.
Right- CD Mix from my older brother Thommuel .
(I made Spotify playlists of both Mixes, available below!)

The last time I was at my parents’ house in QC, I got to rummage through memorabilia and things, particularly my old CDs- Mandy Moore, a bootleg copy of a live recording of Lea Salonga’s concert from 1990-something, The Cardigans, and other albums of artists kids these days probably wouldn’t care to know. 

Still, there’s nothing like those burned CD mixes that carried well-thought out playlists.

I have two burned CD mixes that I still remember to this day. 

One was this CD burned by my friend Iza, who’s one of the most musically talented people I know, and it just made perfect sense that she’s now a music teacher. She’s a multi-instrumentalist but I think I admire her most as a cellist and singer. I used to hang out and play music at her place a lot. She gave me this CD as a graduation gift (I’m two years ahead of her so when our class graduated she had sepanx. Agree, Iza?). 

The other CD was burned by my older brother Thommuel, who barely exists in the interwebs but I think he’s really just ahead of his time. He used to wear pomade in the mid-2000s when it wasn’t cool (he had to buy the lolo type of pomade at Mercury Drug that had a strong lolo smell), and he introduced me to Itchyworms and all these other bands back when they were first starting out (My favourite Itchyworms song is actually “Happy Birthday” from “Little Monsters Under Your Bed”). Kuya Thommuel gave me this CD to reaffirm his position as THE musical authority. 

 

I have other burned CDs from ex-puppy-loves, ex-loves, ex-friends, and friends-turned-acquaintances, but let’s not go into that. I still kept the CDs though, not so much the people. That’s how life rolls, people metaphorically burn and drift into nothingness, think End Game. Lol.

I’ve also had my fair share of CD-burning, which was both a treat and a task. I remember those days when dial-up internet made it impossible to download songs at home (well it WAS possible, but then your prepaid card would be used up by then. Yes, kids, we used prepaid cards for internet back in the day), so I’d go to an internet shop to have CD mixes burned. These CDs came with a free case and a printed copy of the track listing, usually in Comic Sans or Jokerman font. Gotta love those fonts.

Then came better internet (well, “better” in those days), better computers, better or at least more evolved taste in music, making it easier to burn CDs at home. It was common practice to hoard blank CDs that came with sticker labels, but since they looked boring I’d go for those CDs with printed designs (Tweety/Bugs Bunny CDs, floral CDs, and anything that screamed “I’m cool and unconventional,” only to realize everyone was going for cool and unconventional). Even with those stickers and designs, I think we always ended up just writing ON the CD, usually with colored pens. The CD Burning sages would advise against it; they warned that the pen’s chemicals could affect the CD. I guess nobody believed it because everyone was doing it anyway.  

From Reddit

Once the CD mixes were burned and gifted to friends and family, it was going to be either one of two things- they would listen to the CD, or not. There was a much higher chance that they would listen because unlike today where you can Google everything and pretend you listened but actually just Googled the lyrics, it was polite behaviour to listen. Well I never not listened, and probably still never won’t listen, but apparently some people nowadays won’t and don’t, but pretend to. Which sucks.

Burned CD mixes are a thing of the past, and that’s OK. There was just something about burning a CD mix that made you appreciate the effort, and made you say, gee thanks, I’ll keep this forever. I have the utmost respect for people who still do it to this day. I understand that many of us want to produce as little waste as possible, thereby going CD-free. But these days, how many people say things like, hey, I made a Spotify playlist for you, listen to it?

Thoughtfulness used to be a thing. I remember it was standard behaviour to always bring something when you visit a house, or send a thank you note or text after meeting a friend or acquaintance. I’d still do that sometimes, but without much enthusiastic response. Maybe I’m just a boomer, just too old-fashioned and left behind, but I think we should maintain these niceties. 

Niceties seem to be lost in the rubble of coolness and apathy, the haystack of hustle and grind, the murky river of influencers, endless scrolling, and meaningless “hearts”. We think we know people just because we see them every day on Facebook or Instagram, just because we chat with them occasionally. It’s weird how you always chat with some people and think you’re good friends, but the actual face-to-face interaction is totally different and underwhelming, maybe because you’ve exhausted everything and there’s nothing left to talk about or know about each other?

It’s scary to think that this is the future (present?) of social interaction, and I know I’m guilty of being on Facebook more frequently than I’d like myself. I refuse to accept it though, we should refuse to accept it. Not that it’s all that bad; these online tools are “tools” for a reason. But friendship doesn’t end there. We all deserve good friends and meaningful interactions, and it takes some work to get or maintain these.

Back in the day, the “work” involved little acts that build up, like burning CD mixes, spending after school hours eating fish ball outside campus, talking on the phone, writing letters, and really being present. Now it’s all scrolling and half-listening, user-friendliness (as in using people and calling them friends when you need them), and online interactions with short-term acquaintances who you probably don’t mind ever meeting again anyway. No wonder loneliness has been called an epidemic. 

We cling so much to short-lived but seemingly good “memories” thinking everything must be eternal, like keeping people that we barely have life-giving connections with. Eternity isn’t always good. It robs us of the present and robs us of more meaningful relationships and interactions to come.

But yes, burned CD mixes and niceties are eternal. Oh and as an act of love or at least a nicety, I’ve made Spotify playlists of the two CD Mixes from Iza and kuya Thommuel, all for you. Enjoy. :)

  

Click to visit the Spoitfy playlists :)

Spotify CD MIX 1

Spotify CD MIX 2

I can’t write when I feel like shit

That glamorized image of a writer, painter, musician, insert-type-of-artist-here, down in the dumps, creating genius work in a place of darkness, isn’t true for everyone.

I don’t consider myself a “writer” but someone who likes to write from time to time. And no, I can’t write when I feel like shit. And right now I feel like shit.

It’s a wonder how these artists are able to carve out something beautiful or worthy or just plain something, anything, out of that piece of [metaphorical] fecal material.

Energy matters to me a lot, so when the energy is just not there, or at least the energy is not this raging fire ignited by inspired energy (it’s a loop really), nada.

Though there are a badigikijillion energies of different frequencies, the two main types are really positive and negative. Positive could be anything from beauty to awe to inspiration to excitement to learning. Negative could be anything from sadness to fear to hate to constipation.

Apologies for my sailor’s mouth (or mind). Sociologist Brene Brown said that in intense moments, the two things we do are cuss and pray. Fall on our knees in full surrender to the Greater Being, or fall flat on our backs in frustration with not a smudge of care for propriety.

Cussing and praying sometimes happen simultaneously. I do more cussing in my head than praying, or sometimes even include some cussing in my prayers. Don’t tell me you don’t do that, Pinocchio.

Anyway, going back to the two energies, positive energies are easier to navigate than the negative ones. It’s easy to be open, to communicate well, and to be kind when we are feeling good or happy. 

But when we’re in negative energy states? (Wo)man, that’s when shit gets real.

That’s when we elevate ourselves. In the words of the not-a-guru guru Tony Robbins, that’s when we “raise the bar.”

Time for me to raise the bar now and stop feeling like shit.

Uhm, did I actually just write something in this shitty state or what?

May Musings: Manipulating Time and Memory

It’s May. Goodness. Ang bilis. I can almost hear the groans of frustration, cheers of excitement (for the ‘ber”months? Please, not yet!), gasps of wonder. It’s easy to get overwhelmed by the fast pace of time and the gradual formation of wrinkles on our foreheads.

There’s this lady I’ve been listening to on podcasts- Laura Vanderkam, a writer and “time expert.” (As in her research-backed body of work is on time and how to manipulate it). By “manipulate,” she simply means being able to take control of our time by being more intentional with it. Her method involves tracking your activities and seeing which ones take up more time than necessary (as you deem it should, or not).

Time as a resource, a gift, is not as tangible as say money or other material things. According to Vanderkam, time is associated with memory. When we’re on a vacation, doing something new and exciting, or enjoying ourselves doing something or being with someone (or “doing” someone. Haha), we tend to be fully immersed into every moment, fully relishing every second, which is why time feels like it’s ticking fast and we can’t get enough of the experience. Meanwhile, if we’re doing something so familiar and everyday, or something we may hate, like our day job or having to small-talk with people we don’t seem to align with, time can feel slow and staggering.

I appreciate this insight far more than Eckhart Tolle’s “be in the now,” which I also agree with in some ways but let’s face it, we all can’t be fully in the now because time and space are relative according to Einstein, right? Even though I may be in the Now, my ego may be somewhere in the past, maybe at a time in my childhood when some needs were unmet, etcetera. So I may be here now but my auto-pilot responses to the present moment may not be being Present. And I think that’s OK, because we are human and how we navigate the world is through the “prism of expectations shaped by our past experiences,” said Jason Silva.

Vanderkam notes that the way to “manipulate” time is by creating more meaningful memories around it. Of course as humans we can’t always be happy, that’s never going to happen no matter how many Tony Robbins seminars we attend or how much cannabis we smoke. Life is suffering, that’s how it is. Deal with it.

But I guess what Vanderkam is trying to say is in those mundane moments, create more meaning. Whether it’s as simple as listening to songs we love while stuck in traffic, instead of crappy music on the radio, or creating more pleasant sensory experiences by say making ourselves a cup of tea as we’re ruminating our problems, or truly being “present” with the person we’re having dinner with, or trying something new every day to spice up an otherwise “normal” day, and so on.

And what about time tracking? Her method involves literally writing down every single thing that we spend time on on a day to day basis, but I personally find that a chore. I tried doing this activity and tracked my time for an afternoon but it just didn’t work for me; not only did I forget I was doing it, much of my time was also spent trying to make how I spend my time look good on paper (in short, fool myself).

I don’t really have much of a routine; our life right now can’t be routinary because we’re entrepreneurs, and how we spend our tomorrow is really determined by how today/yesterday went. I am trying to wake up at more or less the same time every day, and stick to a morning routine, because the rest of the day is 95% all over the place. I know I need structure. One thing I rely on (aside from cups of coffee & 10 minute meditations) are to-do lists—I write down priorities for the day (for work, passions, and relationships), then work my day around it. I always assume that there needs to be time for other unexpected things, because yes as the day goes by things happen. I’m still working on my system really. We all have our own way of navigating our daily life, whatever our job or state of life. We have to admit though, we’re all still trying to “perfect” our own time manipulation systems.

Why? Maybe because time will always be this fluid, crazy thing. Memory is equally erratic. One of my most favourite people to have ever lived is Carl Jung, and I resonate with his collective unconscious theory. I believe we all have that deep infinite well of shared experiences from who knows where and who knows when. I know that when I meet people I just share a spark with, whether we know each other or not.

Maybe we really are limited as humans, limited in how we can understand intangible gifts like time and memory. I like it that way. Because maybe we’re supposed to stay in that state of wonder and curiosity, that maybe, we will never really know. We will never fully take control of our time, or form a hundred percent factually-accurate memories, or even move ourselves to be our most present selves every day.

But we can try to, I guess 