u/pyuturidk

My theory is that people, emotional masochists aside, tend to recall things that don't sting too much, things that have become easier to think about or explain, given enough time and distance.

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Reading Dear Distance, a short story collection by Luis Joaquin M. Katigbak, gives you a sense of nostalgia. It would be nice to read it early in the morning, with hot coffee on a steamy 10 AM morning and a side of pandesal.

Then your nanay would tell you, “What a big cellphone you have!” while pointing at your Kindle.

But really, reading these stories makes you think of childhood, first love, past lovers, and other things that once occupied a significant part of your life. It reminds you that what once was will never be quite the same again. The past is the past.

We will forget them. We always forget them.

I tell myself this while reading these stories and having pretty bad dreams about the past. I wouldn't recommend reading this book at night, but that's entirely up to you!

It would also be nice to read it while sitting on a bus, waiting for the bumper-to-bumper traffic to finally move.

Why do we fall for nostalgia anyway? Even Katigbak writes about how nostalgia, and the vague sense that things could have or should have turned out differently, are not the best things to steer one's life or thoughts by. And yet, we can't help ourselves. Thinking about the past can keep us from moving forward, but it can also give us the illusion that we still have some control over what happened. After all, the past is something we can no longer change, and thinking about it may be the closest we can get to doing so.

Perhaps that's why we keep returning to it.

Make sure to read this book with Eraserheads or Ciudad playing in the background. Nostalgia all the way!

"There was a time when he loved her so much he thought he would burst; and there was a time when he hated her so much he wished she were dead."

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The winner for literature that pulled me out of my long reading slump is Yvette Tan’s collection of short stories and a novella. This is also my first time reading a collection by Tan.

I particularly enjoyed the novella Antingera, especially how it uses mysticism and witchcraft to imagine a form of justice for people who were killed during the War on Drugs.

There’s something deeply satisfying about the idea that those responsible for killing civilians could themselves face the consequences through kulam.

Definitely enjoyed this read!

“THE PHILIPPINE STATE was corrupt from inception. Yet we forget how deeply ingrained systems of patronage are in this country, as nationalist history has made us glorify politicos like Quezon and Osmeña, making us believe that today’s problems are new and can be solved by a return to the good old days.”

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There was a time during the past month when I came across the title Basagan ng Trip: Complaints about Filipino Culture and Politics by Lisandro Claudio at National Book Store. As someone who enjoys nonfiction Filipiniana, I flipped through the pages, and to my surprise, I was immediately hooked.

I convinced myself that if there were still copies available by payday, I would buy it. But, as nature has cunning ways of playing with me, I ended up looking for the book in various National Book Store branches before finally finding a copy at NBS SM City Cebu.

The essays in the book were originally published across various news websites, which Dr. Lisandro later compiled into a single collection. I particularly enjoyed his essay, “Why You Should Take a Liberal Arts Course,” which discusses how we, as Filipinos, are often raised to believe that we should pursue something practical, preferably a course related to business, commerce, or management.

The beautiful thing about taking a liberal arts course, however, is that you are exposed to human nature: its differences, similarities, contradictions, and complexities. Most of the skills you need for a job, after all, can be learned on the job. Someone who graduated magna cum laude from an English or literature program may have more to offer than a management graduate without any academic distinction. College is not only about preparing yourself for employment. You also have to make the most out of the experience of being in college.

In my case, I did not particularly enjoy my major subjects in psychology. What I enjoyed most were my literature classes.

Midway through my enrollment for a psychology degree, I tried to convince my mother to let me shift to literature. Of course, practicality prevailed. I never really enjoyed most of my psychology classes, with Abnormal Psychology being a notable exception. Literature and other English subjects, on the other hand, were where I felt I could go above and beyond in my work.

I also enjoyed reading the essay on the reframing of EDSA, particularly this absolute banger from Dr. Lisandro:

Problem: <Insert anything here from poverty, corruption, to Tito Sotto.>

Communist answer: It’s feudalism, bureaucrat capitalism, and US imperialism!

The simpler pro-Marcos answer: Mabuti pa noong panahon ni Marcos!

“‘Mabuti pa noong panahon ni Marcos.’ A historical claim. A false one, but a historical claim nonetheless.”

You probably will not hear that exact sentiment as often today. Instead, we hear, “Mas mabuti pa yung ama ni BBM kaysa sa kanya.”

Wala tayong winner today!

Another part of the book examines the lasting effects of colonial mentality, particularly how it shapes our perception of reality and the way we see our own lives. We glorify our colonizers to such an extent that we sometimes aspire to become them, or worse, seem willing to lick their boots just to be associated with them.

I really liked this collection of essays. It is sharp, funny, irreverent, and at times uncomfortable in the best possible way. Definitely a book I am glad I went looking for.

Life changes in the instant.

The ordinary instant.

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grief is something that not everyone can describe in words, but upon reading this, i have come to realize that Didion encapsulated the grief she felt after the unexpected loss of her husband on december 30, 2003.

in describing her grief, she tried to understand it through the theories of freud and klein. she sought to make sense of it by reading medical journals. as a writer, she intellectualized her grief, attempting to give it structure, to make it comprehensible.

what made this book compelling was the simplicity with which she described grief, like it is a universal experience. yet even in its universality, the grieving process remains unique to each individual. the bargaining, the thoughts of Didion longing to have her husband back, the self-blame, the revisiting of signs she might have missed, all these are deeply personal.

the death of a loved one is something we know will come, something we think we are preparing for, but when it arrives, it strikes in the most unexpected way, on the most random day.

perhaps grief materializes through tears, or perhaps it manifests in the memories shared and remembered, even as the years pass and those memories begin to feel distant.

grief is not confined to death alone; it also lingers in the absence of love, in the spaces where someone once existed. it is found in the longing for what was and the acceptance of what can never be again.

grief remains a deeply personal yet universally shared experience. it is a testament to love, to connection, and to the ways we learn to carry what we have lost.

"It is hard to account for the trauma of a thing that didn't happen, hard to accommodate a fear based in an almost-event, a thing that might have occurred, but didn't. The truth, though, is that Elias found himself so close to the edge of life, came so near to the brink of it, that he changed us both forever. Still, years later, it is the music of what almost happened that haunts me most, and will not leave my mind."

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it has been a long time since i last finished a book. then, while i was consulting my good friend Anna and her archive, one specific title caught my attention: all down darkness wide by seán hewitt, a memoir.

it is a story about coming of age, queerness, depression, and grief. what gravitated me most toward it, however, was that it dealt with suicide and the extent to which one person is willing to stretch their own wellbeing for the sake of someone they love. in the memoir, the author's partner attempts suicide, and he is the one who stops it.

there were moments when i found the book a bit tedious, but then i would remind myself that the author is a poet. that is probably why every passage felt less like prose and more like a poem unfolding on the page.

one of the reflections that stayed with me was the author's realization that he often gravitates toward people who are broken. not because they need fixing, but because he somehow carries a sense of responsibility for their suffering. there is a kind of guilt there, a feeling that if something goes wrong, it must somehow be his fault. reading it reminded me of caregiver burnout and the emotional weight that can come from loving someone who is struggling.

to what extent will you go for your partner? the book asks that question throughout its pages.

i liked reading this memoir, although there were times when it felt emotionally heavy. it took me about three days to finish because i often had to put it down and sit with what i had just read. still, i found myself wanting to know what would happen to elias and to seán in the end.

all down darkness wide is not an easy read, but it is a beautiful one.