The author of "Mais"

LAST NIGHT, I HAVE talked with a former colleague (or a friend as I actually reckon her) through facebook. I just inadvertently popped out my blog address on her screen through the chat-feature of the said social networking site. This, in a concealed agenda, means I am coercing her to read my blog! After few moments, she replied and said she was very amused with my entries; she thinks they’re hilarious...

Well actually, we have diminutively asked each other if how our lives have been going at first. Most questions posed were just very common questions being asked by two people who haven't seen each other for a while; yet our answers were not that ordinary. (Of course, we’re both living interesting lives.) The last time I saw her facebook profile, conversely, she posted a status from where I gathered she was feeling so blessed to have her fiancé and their baby.


Meanwhile, I told her that I read her blog too, and that I bookmarked its address in my laptop. The previous instance I've read it, the aforementioned lines are very palpable. After our chat, however, I checked her blog again and discerned that those lines are now paradox—she's just glad to have her baby... The father? No more.

She deliberately reckons this point of her life as her downfall; however, I suppose it's not. Perhaps, it's just a temporary downfall. Anyone can brave any sports for as long as they don't get fractured physically, I suppose. Or if ever fractured, then there’s always the hospital. Or sincerely speaking, she can go back to writing such as for the print media or the online community. I suppose doing so would heal her wound. Writing alone is a form of panacea, a saving grace of people whose sentiments have been long obscured. It’s even better than a hospital.

Well, she’s a brilliant writer, I’m definite about that.


Historically speaking, the person I’m talking about is my batch-mate. Though we are from two different universities, we’ve known each other to the point that it would be enough for us to grin at or tap on one another should we cross our paths somewhere. Perhaps, this is because we both competed in a Luzonwide press conference in the Feature Writing category, representing our region, wherein we both won the same award. The only difference is that I won in English and she won in Filipino—the language counterparts. (The photo here was taken by Mike Tiotuico inside a cave in Tuguegarao, Philippines. Yet I edited it through Adobe Photoshop to hide the subject's face since I did not ask for her permission.) I still recall the first time I’ve met her during a different writing contest that ensued multiple months earlier before that. This one was the first contest I have ever joined. Unfortunately, I flunked then while she brought home the bacon. She wrote an article; her winning piece was posted on the bulletin board for the winners.

The title of her piece was “Mais” (the Filipino word for “corn”). That day marked the day when, once in her life, she became an icon of the author whose blog is the one you’re currently reading.

08.14.2010