I'm a Bipolar Bear, and I'm Lovin' Every Minute of It

Some members of my immediate family are reacting (expectedly) in a hostile fashion to the airing of our family's story in Maalaala Mo Kaya’s Father’s Day episode “Diary.” Tell me about it, I can hear you saying.

One sister said, how come there are twists here and there bordering on fictional story-telling? There are other variations of these comments, and I’m just about ready to literally throw the new books on creative non-fiction and old volumes on New Journalism at these persons.

What I haven’t counted on is the outpouring of congratulatory text and Facebook messages. Although my dear kid brother Eric’s condition was handled sensitively, my own private hell from early childhood to adolescence, all the way to mid-adulthood was not tackled. But then I’ve long ago promised and submitted my essay on the family disease—bipolar disorder—to Dr. Margarita Holmes. She has it in her files to be put out in a volume someday.

Just so to appease these family members who think I haven’t come clean with my own occasions of mania and depression, here’s my daily maintenance dosage (how more open can I get about this?):

Depakote Sodium extended release, 500 mg.;

Rivotril, 2 mg. ;

And for the nights when I twist and turn, I take Dormicum, 15 mg.

Again I have to thank my father, Enrique C. Lolarga Jr., M.D., for seeing me through difficult phases in my life. He it was who brought me to Dr. Leonardo Bascara in college when the first waves of seemingly overwhelming depression left me floundering. To these other psychiatrists, I owe a debt of gratitude that can never be fully paid: Dr. Elizabeth Rondain, Dr. Lourdes Vera Lapuz and currently, Dr. Gilda Manalo Wong of the Baguio General Hospital and Medical Center.

Also being part of a twice-a-month Sufi mediation group, an aquarelle society and a Saturday prayer group led by Oscar and Toottee Pacis have helped calm me.

Happy now?

My consolation after the MMK episode is this message from writer Gilda Cordero Fernando: “Anyway, all the bipolars I’ve met are much more interesting than the normals.”

Photo shows Dr. Lolarga leading his kids in singing the theme from The Sound of Music

I've Never Sung Enough for My Father

Going through my friends' Facebook notes about their own fathers today, I couldn't stop the tears from filling my eyes.

I realized that yes, my previous piece on Tatay Rolly, the father of my daughters Kimi and Ida Fernandez, now reads like an exercise in evasion although I took great pains to wake up early this Sunday to compose it.

Being the firstborn of eight children and the one on whom Daddy lavished the most attention, I find it difficult to identify with those who rebelled against male authority figures in their families.

Whatever rebellious streak and unmanaged anger I still have has my Mom and all she stands for (traditional Roman Catholic piety, conformity, holding down a steady job, being beholden to one's employer no matter how much sh_t is thrown one's way, being fussy about neatness and order in the house, a judgmental character, etc.) as its focus.

So when my beloved Dad died, I felt like I lost both an arm and a leg. Baldado talaga. Mahirap na nga mabuhay sa mundo, mawalan ka pa ng kakampi.

So here's to you, Dad, and all the tenets you lived by: keeping your head low and out of the limelight, kindness to those who have less in life, a pared-down lifestyle, rage at any form of injustice (call it a return to your original Protestant faith). You and your mother, Telesfora Cariño Lolarga, are, and will always be, my heroes.

Photos show Babeth at age two being held by her father, Enrique C. Lolarga Jr., in 1957 and at one month in 1955

Timeless Reminder for Tatay

It is 5:40 a.m. on a quiet Sunday in Baguio. Strangely, there is no rain but a faint buzz in the air. All I can hear in our room is the turning of the pages of a book and a gentle tapping on the keyboard. Another Sunday in the lives of Rolly and Babeth. He gets up to check the Major League Baseball schedule and on learning the next game isn't until 7 a.m., resumes reading Asuncion David Maramba's Beyond the Classroom: Essays on Living.

Journalist Yvonne Chua, whom Rolly supervised when she was a young reporter at the now defunct Philippines Daily Express, once asked me, "Does your husband have a life already?" Her question is quite revealing. She took the words right out of my mouth.

But our children Kimi and Ida do appreciate Rolly for his steadfast devotion to his editing and mentoring duties. So much so that when Kimi was about to turn 24 on June 10, I texted their Tatay to please find it in his heart to surprise his eldest daughter by turning up in Pasig on her birthday. And he did, bright and early on that day. Kimi was so thrilled and happy she declared that she would treat the four of us (Tatay, Nanay and baby Ida) to a fab lunch at Claw Daddy at the Shangri-la Plaza Mall and dessert afterwards at her and her sister's fave froyo (that's frozen yogurt, Tatay) place.

So here's another one of my reminders (bordering on nagging) to the man my children declared many years ago "The Best Tatay in the World." Go get a life, Rolly. On the other hand, we like and accept you the way you are.

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant- they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are a vexation to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is: many persons strive for high ideals and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself, especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love for in the face of all adversity and disenchantment, it is perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings.

YOU ARE A CHILD OF THE UNIVERSE. No less than the trees and stars, you have a right to be here and whether or not it is dear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive him to be and whatever your labors and aspirations.

In the noisy confusion of life, keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham and drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be careful, strive to be happy.


And with the permission of poet Jose L. Lacaba, another hard-working tatay, I am reposting his translation of the poem above to Filipino. This version can be found in his book Sa Daigdig ng Kontradiksyon. He also did a salinawit of this poem, but he feels that the version below remains truer in spirit to the original poem in English.

Minimithi
Salin ng tulang "Desiderata"
Ni Max Ehrmann


LUMAKAD NANG MAHINAHON

sa gitna ng ingay at pagkukumahog, at alalahanin
ang kapayapaang maaaring makuha sa katahimikan.

Walang isinusuko hanggat maaari, pakitunguhan
nang mabuti ang lahat ng tao.

Sabihin ang iyong katotohanan nang tahimik at malinaw;
at makinig sa iba, kahit sa nakayayamot at mangmang;
sila man ay may kasaysayan.

Iwasan ang mga taong mabunganga at palaaway,
sila'y ikinaiinis ng kalooban.

Kung ihahambing mo ang sarili sa iba, baka
yumabang ka o maghinanakit; sapagkat laging
may lilitaw na mas mahusay o mas mahina sa iyo.

Ikalugod ang iyong mga tagumpay at saka mga balak.

Manatiling interesado sa iyong hanapbuhay,
gaano man kaaba; ito'y tunay na ari-arian
sa pabago-bagong kapalaran ng panahon.

Maging maingat sa iyong negosyo; sapagkat ang daigdig
ay puno ng panlilinlang. Subalit huwag maging bulag
sa kabutihang makikita; maraming nagsisikap
na makamit ang mga adhikain; at sa lahat ng dako,
ang buhay ay puno ng kabayanihan.

Maging tapat sa sarili. Higit sa lahat, huwag magkunwari.
Huwag ding libakin ang pag-ibig: sapagkat sa harap
ng lahat ng kahungkagan at kawalang-pag-asa, ito'y
lagi't laging sumisibol, tulad ng damo.

Tanggapin nang mabuti ang mga payo ng katandaan,
buong-giliw na isuko ang mga bagay-bagay ng kabataan.

Pag-ibayuhin ang lakas ng loob at nang mayroon kang
pananggalang laban sa biglaang kasawian. Subalit
huwag ikaligalig ang mga haka-haka.

Maraming pangamba ang likha ng pagod at pangungulila.

Bagamat kailangan ang sapat na disiplina, maging magiliw
sa sarili. Supling ka ng sandaigdigan, tulad din naman
ng punongkahoy at bituin; may karapatan kang manatili rito.
At malinaw man sa iyo o hindi, walang dudang
ang sandaigdigan ay bumubukadkad na tulad ng nararapat.

Kung gayon, pakisamahan ang Panginoon, anuman
ang pananaw mo sa kanya, at anuman ang iyong
pinagkakaabalahan at minimithi,
sa maingay na kalituhan ng buhay,
pakisamahan ang iyong kaluluwa.

Sa kabila ng lahat ng pagkukunwari, kabagutan
at gumuhong pangarap, maganda pa rin ang daigdig.

Mag-ingat. Sikaping lumigaya.

Jose F. Lacaba

Photo by BABETH LOLARGA

The Cecile and Alban Show

From music writer Pablo Tariman comes this announcement about the cello and piano events of the year.


CECILE LICAD, piano
ALBAN GERHARDT, cello
In a duo debut recital
Cultural Center of the Philippines Main Theater, Sept. 15, 2009, 8 p.m.

Program: Beethoven’s Sonata for Cello and Piano in A, Op. 69; Beethoven’s Cello Sonata 5, No. 2 in G Minor; Janacek’s Fairy Tales (1923 version) and a Prokofiev sonata


Program on Sept. 16, 2009 with the Philippine Philhamonic Orchestra under Oscar Yatco

Prokofiev’s Piano Concerto No. 3 in C Major

Andante; allegro
Theme and Variations
Allegro ma non troppo

Cecile Licad, piano

Tchaikovsky’s Roccoco Variations

Alban Gerhardt, cello

Proceeds of the concert will go to the projects of the Family Planning Organization of the Philippines.

Tickets prices:
Orchestra Center and Left: P3,000
Orchestra Right: P2000
Balcony 1 Center: P1,000
Balcony 1 Left: P500
Balcony 1 Right: P500
Balcony 2 Center: P300
Balcony 2 Left and Right: P200

For ticket inquiries, call tel. 357-3811 or text/call cell phone no. 0906-510-4270.

Photo of the cellist courtesy of Mr. Tariman

Behold the Woman

I wish I had written or said this.

Quote of the day: "Whatever you give a woman, she will make greater. If you give her sperm, she'll give you a baby. If you give her a house, she'll give you a home. If you give her groceries, she'll give you a meal. If you give her a smile, she'll give you her heart. She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her. So, if you give her any crap, be ready to receive a ton of shit."

My Boy Carlo

How Carlo Jose Lolarga Trinidad became CJ today I haven’t quite figured out. I guess he TRANSFORMED! That’s the only answer I can think of. When he came into our lives in 1979, I called him by many names like Moopsie, Carlo Warlo, Carl and other forms of endearment that only a doting aunt-godmother could think of. When my own kids were grown, they wondered why I liked giving him personal hygiene products (men’s deodorant mainly) as my Christmas gift. It was for the pleasure of writing on the card the message “Keep on rolling, Carlo Warlo!” Here’s the boy as a boy with his toys some of which are collector’s items and are part of the roving exhibition of "Transformers" robots at different malls in Metro Manila. Keep on rolling, CJ!

Here is the rest of the toy exhibit schedule:
June 20-21 : SM North Edsa (Sky Dome)
June 20 : Robinson's Galleria
June 21 : Shangri-La Mall

June 26 : Mall of Asia

June 27-28 : Robinson's Galleria
June 28 : SM Megamall
June 28 : Glorietta 3

This is a project of Cybertron Philippines and Solar-UIP. Display cabinets will feature Transformers and G.I. Joe collectibles

Bayan Ko in English

With the kind permission of poet Edgar B. Maranan, I'm reproducing his English translation of the nationalist's favorite, "Bayan Ko."

Bayan Ko (1929)

(Lyrics by Jose Corazon de Jesus, music by Constancio de Guzman)



Ang bayan kong Pilipinas

Lupain ng ginto’t bulaklak

Pag-ibig ang sa kanyang palad

Nag-alay ng ganda’t dilag

At sa kanyang yumi at ganda

Dayuhan ay nahalina

Bayan ko, binihag ka,

Nasadlak sa dusa.



Ibong mang may layang lumipad

Kulungin mo at umiiyak

Bayan pa kayang sakdal dilag

Ang di magnasang makaalpas!

Pilipinas kong minumutya

Pugad ng luha ko’t dalita…

Aking adhika

Makita kang sakdal laya!




In the book Bayan Ko! Images of the Philippine Revolt, published soon after the “People Power EDSA Revolution” of 1986, an English version of the song accompanies the original Filipino lyrics of Jose Corazon de Jesus. This translation by Ed Maranan -- with the title My Country -- is different from other existing translations because it can be sung in English, following the melodic line of composer Constancio de Guzman. A revised version of the translation appears in Dream Chasers, the Grade V reader in Anvil Publishing’s Our World of Reading series.




My Country (1986)



Philippines, my country, my homeland

Gold and flowers in her heart abound

Blessings on her fate did love bestow

Sweet beauty's grace and splendor's glow.

How her charms so kind and tender

Drove the stranger to desire her...

Land of mine, in fetters kept,

You suffered as we wept.



Birds that freely claim the skies to fly

When imprisoned mourn, protest and cry!

How more deeply will a land most fair

Yearn to break the chains of sad despair.

Philippines, my life's sole burning fire,

Cradle of my tears, my misery...

All that I desire

To see you rise, forever free!

Open Letter to a Young Director

Dear Raya,

Your tita has to get these things off her chest before she risks those unhealthy things that happen when one “holds a fart in,” as the expression goes.

Yesterday morning , maybe at the hour you just arrived from Europe, I left Pasig City for Bataan on a community outreach project and made sure I could hitch a ride back to Mandaluyong City so I had enough lead time to line up for the 8 p.m. screening of your much-lauded Independencia.

I arrived at the Shangri-La Plaza Mall at a little after 4 p.m. There was a reasonably long queue already for your film. I felt immediately happy for you. I asked a fellow to save my space while I ordered something to eat at a snack bar.

The long and short of it is I totally lost it at some point during those four hours that I and a couple of hundreds of others did who patiently expected we could get in because we were there bright and early.

My understanding of independent cinema—forgive me if the definitions have changed during the past months, I’ve not managed to keep up, being situated most of the time in Baguio where we are not as privileged as Metro Manilans and, yeah, Europeans to catch indie films—is that it is an alternative to the kababuyan and superficiality of flicks churned out by the mainstream. What is more, indie filmmakers are supposedly respectful of their audience. And to produce and direct one, you just need a handful of committed staff and crew members, say 20 or 50 max (?), who share your vision.

Imagine my surprise when Martin Macalintal, who helped organize the French film festival still ongoing at the Shang, told us les girls seated by a coffee bar that 200 of the 290-something seats in the theater where Independencia was going to be shown were already reserved by the producer, Arleen Cuevas. And that these reservations were all confirmed. He had hoped that your producer would at least give due notice if even half of those seats would not be used so these could be freed and more people could be let in. I couldn’t help muttering aloud, “Is that producer Chinese?” No racial slur intended, but those were the first words that came out of my mouth.

Two hundred seats, Raya? She might as well have rented the entire cinema and called for a private screening. Why announce in the papers that there would be this screening of Independencia open to the public at that hour?

When finally the ticket booth opened at 6 p.m., only 20 people were allowed in. There was audible booing. Others just shrugged and called it a day. But there were still a sizable number of people who complained. The more enterprising others decided to contact whoever they felt malakas to in order to get in.

Soon there was this woman in black with shoulder-length hair accompanied by a man with a bullhorn who introduced her as “the producer.” As I quietly fumed on my seat—couldn’t get up because of tender left ankle from a slowly healing sprain and an arthritic right knee—my friends overhead her or her male companion say that sorry lang ang masasabi nila.

An angry mob was forming. Some threatened to blockade the entrance to Cinema 3. Before long, the lady in black announced that she had decided to free, perhaps from the goodness of her heart, those 200 tickets. People, who earlier dispersed, formed another queue which moved rapidly enough towards the girl at the ticket booth until again the tickets available ran out.

The lady in black, who was getting all the flack from outraged people like myself, should have seen that there was a huge hopeful crowd wanting to see a fulsomely praised film by the Philippines’ latest wunderkind. And since money at the box office is not an issue here, she should have quickly made an executive decision with approval from the Shang’s management that an extra screening be allowed.

Which apparently was what happened—another show time that same night was announced through SMS messaging with the tentative words “baka magka 2nd screening arnd 930. 1 hr 20 min lang ang film.”

I didn’t stick around anymore. That afternoon, a dear friend had just gifted me with CDs of Art Garfunkel, Julie Andrews and Carly Simon singing standards, and the rest of what looked like a wasted evening at the mall could still be redeemed. I went home and plugged in a pair of earphones.

Later, friends called up to report that there were three lines that formed outside Cinema 3 for your 8 p.m. screening: one line for those with reserved seats like family members, family friends, including a National Artist, actors like Alessandra de Rossi, etc. The second line was for those lucky to get the tickets let go by the lady in black. The third was for the waitlisted—if there were still vacant seats after the people in the first two lines were accommodated, the rest of those not privileged to be anak ng Diyos would be let in.

Again I point out a vital issue here, Raya. Are we living in a democracy, or are you
or your producer condoning another permutation of elitism? This had to happen on the country's 111th Independence Day, an independence gained after the waging of a revolution whose ideals were guided by the French Revolution. But let us not even get into that.

I’m still hoping to catch Independencia at some other venue, and since I have only reviews from foreigners to guide me, I’m also hoping that it is as good as they say it is. As a friend, who’s a master of irony and sarcasm combined, said, “The film can’t be as great as a Mayakovsky poem, can it? Or even an Ishmael Bernal ouevre?”

Yon lang naman.

From your concerned tita