Maging Sino Ka Man

Yes, blame my love for classic music. Add that to my recent curiosity over 60's-80's Tagalog (and Bisaya) ballads , and you've gotten yours truly to post this video!

This song is called "Maging Sino Ka Man" (Tagalog for "Whoever You May Be") by a famous Filipino romantic composer named Rey Valera. He apparently composed this inspired by those who work odd jobs in multi-faceted Manila or those who feel they are in a degrading line of work (Unfortunately, job prejudice is pretty apparent here.). For those curious about the lyrics, here they are in the original Tagalog (with English translations below in italics):

Ang pag-ibig ay sadyang ganyan
Love is really like that
Tiwala sa isa't-isa'y kailangan
Trust in each other is needed
Dati mong pag-ibig wala akong pakialam
Whoever you loved before, I don't really mind
Basta't mahal kita kailanpaman
I'll simply love you forever

'Wag kang mag-isip ng ano pa man
Don't you ever worry about anything
Mga paliwanag mo'y di na kailangan
Whatever explanations, I don't need it
At kahit ano pa ang iyong nakaraan
And no matter what your past wasb
Mamahalin kita maging sino ka man
I love you no matter who you are


Mahal kita, pagka't mahal kita
I love you because I love you
Iniisip nila ay hindi mahalaga
Whatever they think, it doesn't matter
Mahal kita maging sino ka man
I love you no matter who you are

Mali man ang ikaw ay ibigin ko
Loving you may be wrong
Ako'y isang bulag na umiibig sa 'yo
But I'm just a blind man in love with you
At kahit ano pa ang iyong nakaraan
And no matter what your past is
Mamahalin kita maging sino ka man
I love you no matter who you are

Nice, aye! I love how it basically shows one facet of love --- unconditionality. I love how the persona doesn't really care what his beloved's past is or who she is or whatever. All that matters to her is that he loves her. Period. And he'll continue to love her. Period.

What was that? Yes, it's a lovely, poignant song full of the magic of love, but you're hard pressed to find anyone who still loves the same way as the persona here? Times have changed, and love is now more defined in finite, fleeting terms? Perhaps.

What if I told you, though, I know Someone personally who loves that way?

Two thousand years ago, one great big expression of the words "I love you" happened on a cross in Calvary. But, if you think He did it for someone who was fully deserving of the love, think again. First of all, she didn't love Him (at least, not at the time). She was too busy to ever think of Him. And second of all, would someone so flawed, so full of mire, so imperfect ever be called worthy of such pure and perfect love He was offering? No, I don't think so.

And yet, He did it. And yes, He loved her. He loved her despite the fact that she was too loud and hyperactive. He loved her despite the fact that she was such a huge drama queen who has slight tendencies to exaggerate things. He loved her despite the fact that she has a passport with the Procrastination Nation stamped all over it.

He loved her (and still does) no matter who she is. And she is, or should I say I am, grateful for that!

Of Otap and Obsession

Yes, that'd be the seventh part of my "Allie's 22 Things I Learnt Before 22" (which, I'm afraid will probably not reach 1 February. Oh well, there's the "Now That I'm 22" plan!). This one discusses my sort of explanation on my cultural obsession. Yes, it's rather incoherent! Hahaha!

Watch Me!

Not really a blog per se, but I just had to share this!

It's called "Stranger in Her Own City", a short film by Khadija Al-Salami. It tells the story of a young Yemeni girl who refuses to conform to her society's rigid ideas of what a woman is supposed to be.

I seriously must commend Najmia for showing exceptional courage despite her young age! Seriously, many adults don't have the courage she as an adolescent possesses. She really must be applauded!

Springtime

Let me start by saying that this is all Julie’s fault! Hahaha!

Yesterday, she posted a Facebook note about her latest poem, “Finally”. Now this is something very new for the very much angelic Julie. This marks her first dabble into Anais Nin-esque, sensual poetry. She was rather nervous at composing it, but says it was worth it trying something new, a very integral part of literature.

Then, I realised something: I too have not tried it.And yes, I’d like to. So, inspired by Ms. Julie, I decided to make, well, this!

Just like Julie, I’ve never had experience in the things described here. But, I suppose, I just have friends who do.

Well, yes, I was blushing as I was writing this (and, for that matter, I still am right now that I’m posting it).

So yeah, here we go:



Springtime

It is the frigid, pale winter

And I’m a white rosebud, shivering in the snow

Suddenly, the sunlight caresses my cheek

Like your warm, loving hands

I feel the fall of dew

Wet and refreshing

Like the dawn air

Like those first kisses

To my cheeks

To my lips

Then, this rosebud opens

Slowly, gently, lovingly

In full bloom to

You, the lone butterfly

A primrose inviting you

Only you

To partake of me

Sweet nectar

Flowing, like a rush of blood

Drink of me all that you want

To reveal a tiny blush

Inside all my pristine exterior

Under the dawn sky

I give to you

And only you

Every dream, every hope

Every petal in my blossom

This is the first day

Of our eternal spring

Allie's 22 Things She's Leant Before 22: New Year Edition!

Happy New Year!

Allie's 22 Things She's Leant Before 22: Christmas Edition!

Happy Holidays, guys!

The Mustard Seed Effect

It never fails to amaze me how something so simple can turn profound simply like that. Think of going to the wash room and bumping into Hillary Clinton, or discovering that the candidate you voted for won by a single, nail-biting ballot. Call it the “Mustard Seed” effect --- how something so small and seemingly insignificant can actually turn out to be huge.

Who knew I was going to experience that today?

I went to the beauty salon this morning to get my regular manicure and pedicure. Funnily enough, I was actually due for one since Sunday but just never bothered to go there until four days later. It started out typically --- bringing along Glamour to refer to that shade of pale peach I’ve been itching to try (which they didn’t have anything close to, by the way), waiting for a manicurist to be available, pestering Ate Lynn (from Dipolog) with how to say things in Bisaya. I was in “deep” (more like, annoying!) conversation with her when it happened.

A slim, short, soft-spoken old woman sat in the chair next to me. She told Ate Lynn that the newly-applied onyx dye slightly irritated her. My manicurist simply smiled and whispered something to her fellow Bisaya colourist, Mel, to take care of the itch after she gets her nails done. Then, the woman next to me asked Ate Lynn about her sons back in Dipolog, to which she replied that they’re fine, but that she misses them to bits. She then turned to me and asked me where my mother was. I told her that she was at home, recuperating from a slight fever. That was when, with a slight quiver in her voice, she told us her story.

Her daughter, Marie, has always been quite an independent girl. So, upon graduation, she decided to move to New York to pursue her career and her Master’s degree. It had been quite difficult for her, but she knew this is what Marie wanted. So, with a heavy heart, she watched her daughter leave her. Many Christmases were spent with at least an hour on the webcam to see if her little girl was all right. These few hours meant so much to Carmencita (the mother) for in those hours, it’s as if Marie never left Manila, and she was with her, celebrating Christmas as a family. Despite the distance, she was still there.

Then, one morning --- one simple, unassuming morning --- her entire world was rocked. Marie told her mother that she was going to see a plastic surgeon to have a birthmark removed. Carmencita warned her daughter about the dangers of the operation, but Marie told her mother to trust her on this decision, anyway it was a simple procedure. Little did Carmencita know that this was the last time she’d hear her daughter’s voice. The plastic surgeon Marie entrusted to remove her birthmark turned out to be a fraud and to cover up the botched surgery, the “doctor” dumped her body in a lake. It took a lot of courage, and money to send her body back to the Philippines to give Marie a proper burial. That was seven Christmases ago.

Her story was so riveting, so gripping that I knew I just had to do something, give something to this woman anguished from retelling the story of her daughter’s death. But what? My parents gave me just enough to cover the manicure plus a tip. I couldn’t even give her a hug at the time because my right hand was getting painted. So, I gave her the only thing I could at the time --- my ears. I intently listened to her stories about her daughter, how she (Carmencita) got married at 21 and how I should not follow her example (Don’t worry, Tita. I plan to marry at 30!), and how I should love everyone around me. I also told her about my family when I was asked. It wasn’t much, but for some reason, it was enough to make her smile, and making her smile, made me do so too.

Even the simplest gestures can produce immense amounts of happiness. It’s just up to us to utilise those small things for others. As they say, great things come from small packages. All you need to do is to write some other name than yours for the recipient.