THE DFA ULTIMATE EXPERIENCE
September 15, 1980.
Yan ang putanginang date kung kelan kinasal ang mga magulang ko. At dahil diyan sa putanginang date na yan inis-nab ako ng taga-DFA at sabi bumalik na lang ako.
My gosh. I cannot believe. Me. A true blue Filipino citizen with matching morena skin and gabriela silang traits would be flabbergasted and scrutinized by my fellow countryman in the Department of Foreign affairs. I cannot take that in my own land from which i refuse to leave despite and amidst the exodus of every talented Filipino would tell me to go back and redo the whole process of passport application. I cannot take it that i am a suspected candidate for falsification of identity in my own fucking country from which i believe will be once great again.
" Hija, marami kasing nagpapalit ng pangalan ngayon, pwede ka namang bumalik anytime.. hindi mo lang nasagutan kung kelan kinasal ang parents mo."
I went to the DFA today donning my very lacey and cute cardigan. I had to travel from Quezon City to Pasay. I took an FX from QC to Manila and i had to take a cab from there since i don't know where the hell is the DFA. I rode in a taxi and asked me if i was going to Japan. No. The driver thought about that because every passenger he took in that was going to the DFA was applying for a job in Japan. Haha! Manong ibahin mo ako. The last time i danced that would vie for a job in Japan was on my 4th grade. Thank you.
The driver even told me that when i had my visa approved to France, i should never go back to Manila. I said i had a job here and no can do. I'm going there for leisure. Wow.. leisure ha... And he said that it wasn't a good decision to do that because its not easy getting a european visa approved. I know. I know. But then again manong, ibahin mo ako. I have always believed we have choices. If the driver thinks that i am rotting my life here so be it but my option is not to think that my life rots in staying and working here. Anyway, that was a very fine exchange between hoi pollois of Philippine society.
Oh, but to give credit. The preliminary DFA people are very accomodating. Checking every documents. Telling the correct ID picture. Xeroxing certificates. Handing out glue and ballpens. Making sure that when you line up you will be complete. It was again a breeze after the first tataks and panels of DFA people with laptops. Then i went inside GAte 2.
And the CSI Pasay starts...
Anong middle name ng nanay mo? Me: Ibe po.
Sinong mas matanda sa nanay at tatay mo? Me: Sir, Bakit nyo po tinatanong?
Sagutin mo lang yung tanong ko ok? Ako lang ang magtatanong, wag mo ako tanungin. Malinaw ba yun? Me:Ok
Taga-saan ang nanay mo? Me: Ilocos.
Ilan kayo magkakapatid? Me: Apat
Kelan kinasal ang nanay mo? Me: September...
Then he starts to gather all my papers. Sees my photocopied company ID. He looks curious that i work for the current number one channel. Asks for my ID and checks on it. He asked me that i should also get an NBI clearance to add support. And then asked me to come back because i didn't know the date of my Mom and Dad's marriage. Just like that. As if i was on the prowl to get out of the country. As if i had plans to humiliate my country. As if i was going to spit my bubblegum in the streets of Singapore.
Ok. Probably it was his job to do that. Probably he got a wooden picture frame as his present from his monito-monita after buying a Punch bowl with cups. Probably he didn't like my lacey outfit. Probably he wanted to pee.
So i stormed out the building. Feigning complacency. Feeling my carcass rumble with fury. Folding all my papers in my bag. Cheekbones numbing. Gnashing my teeth as i feel the earth move in my bag to search for my cellphone. I texted my Tita how can i get an NBI clearance.
Next time, I have to study. It's like going to a test unprepared. And since i didn't know that it was going to be like that, i charge it to my ignorance and experience.
Paulie said that it was in preparation for me to the VISA interview.
TRALALA...
It's christmas, it's christmas in the world of consumerist-capitalist and escapist Makati. I loathed the place when i was there to work for 3 months. My blazing around aura couldn't accept with all the high rise profanity that lurks every street. But i went there occasionally for escapism and a chance to rebuild and recap lives that was once broken and redeemed and broken again. I need Makati and Makati needs me.
Anyway, at 11 PM there are still a number of people walking and chatting. My friends and i even went inside a home shop and we saw a number of people dancing to that copied PBB tune. And they were rehearsing a dance for a Christmas party, in a home shop full of glass trinkets, indian masks and expensive jars. Who can take that away?
It's not christmas season, it's christmas party season here in Manila. Just when you thought that everybody's going to the dogs and contemplating on working outside the country then you see an attack of people in malls and they are there to purchase. That's a nice scene. At least we all have hidden wealths to purge and the christmas party season is the right time to flaunt it.
As for me, i used to attend almost 4 christmas parties before. Now, i think i will be attending only 2 christmas parties. I had my fair share of winnings in Christmas parties. i have a palm pilot that lasted for 4 months, a DVD that i never used, a GC from Rustans. That's it and some left over Hawaiin costumes for the past themes of parties.
Anyway, i still have to buy my brother a T-shirt as a guilt gift for not attending any of his so-called gigs. I would like to buy something for Poodrahbel because he has a way of thanking people who give him gifts. It's as if he's never had a t-shirt, a soap or a picture frame for that matter. I will give for the feeling of it.
And try walking along 12midnight in Makati while singing to Chaka Khan's version of Through the Fire. It is redemption.
Friday, 09 December 2005
PRODDED
I haven't been officially working for these past few days. I am greatful that i don't have much work nowadays. I could push myself to go to Makati and use Richards' PS2. But lately, since i am determined to go to Paris next year, i started from scratch.
I don't have any offical ID except for my company ID, my alumni ID and my Timezone card. I still lack 2 essential IDs needed for a passport application. I got my new TIN card after an hour and then i went to the NSO near MCdo in QC. I was told i was at the wrong building so i went to the branch in east ave. The mother of all branches. And surprisingly it was a breeze to get an authenticated birth certificate. Just 2 days. No queueing lines like the ones i do every fucking payday. Then the most shalang government building that i saw was the SSS at east Ave. i have to get a an SSS card. This one was a bit organized and i had to line-up a bit but it was ok. But i get to have the ID in a month or so to be delivered in my mom's house.
Working for the government must be something else. You work 8-5 and you greet almost a line of people wanting to finish early. You don't have time to pee lest you'd be branded in their slogan " mamayan muna hindi mamaya na" eh paano kung naiihi na nga di ba? eh di mamaya na. or saglit lang.
I even laminated my TIN card complete with picture. But i have to go to the DFA. And really file an application. I don't know where the hell is the DFA. There are some agencies that fix that stuff for a thousand bucks. But i'd rather go personally. Para naman may visual experience.
And if schedules, plans, chakras, time and space will comply. Another newbie expedition is set on the month of romance to the land of romance and illusion---Paris!
Sunday, 04 December 2005
Good Morning!
It's really early for me to be blogging. But anyway, i woke up today in a different house again. I'm in one of my tita's house almost near my Mom's house. And then i quaintly observed how family life runs in this family. There are a lot of friendly usisa and non-chalant talks about computers, food etc. And so this is filial communication. Something that our family lacks that's why sometimes we fall apart on our own misgivings. i don't really talk a lot except for people whom i am close to.. but it's rather weird not to be talkative to people you have lived with for almost 20 years. Oh, these are problems arsing from presonal conflict and oppressed youth and it's not coming from me--- that i am sure of. My Poodrahbel talks a lot. But i don't know why...
Our family could have been an HBO series. It's almost like 6 feet under with a touch of Desperate Housewives. and i think a hint of Angels in America will do. Nobody's perfect and i am used to that. I don't want to cut crap and just do what all the Hallmark card says and whatever inspirational stuff people churn in TV after a death in the family. No way. I say that in the most mature manner. I hope. I think i am sure of that. Let's say that we have our own faults. I have immuned myself and have gotten over that. I don't have the most adorable mother but its ok. At least my Mom didn't pimp me into prostitution like some mothers do. I still am blessed. I didn't get bonked. My hope springs eternal from the fact that some people are worthy of a slot in the drama machine.
Hope springs from one's own well.
