Story that refuses to write

I am about to finish the story that I failed to write. It's so difficult.

Davao's changing skyline

 

Growing Rainbow in a pot

 

I'm growing the Rainbow tree in a pot in one corner of the terrace. I'm growing Rainbow in a pot. The pot with the growing Rainbow is in my terrace. I go there everyday--in the morning to water it and later, in the midst of my editing works, when I could no longer bear the tangle of verbs and nouns and phrases and feel I would suffocate, I'd knock at Sean's room to let me go to the terrace to see the Rainbow plant growing there. At different times of day, I invent excuses to go to the terrace to see the Rainbow tree growing. I'd like to bring it to my room so that I could sleep with it near my bed, if the Rainbow could take so much stress of being carried to my room inside the pot, its stem and leaves swaying before I could finally put it down on the floor. 

Growing a penis

You should have seen me the other day, my first day as a Blue Collar. I climbed the construction ladder and installed the cork screw somewhere near the rooftop. I didn't even know if that was called a cork screw or a hook screw, I have to ask Ja again. Ja has become my capatas. I elected him to that post because I said I had to learn to do things right before it was too late. 

He was a bit wary because he knew me as quite rebellious and unruly, someone "too argumentative," he doubted if I could even follow a simple instruction. But I told him my secret. I said I wanted to be a man doing some real manly job. I was already sick and tired of being a woman, I was totally done with it, I said. I even dragged him to the Ace Hardware to buy that ladder, the kind I saw being used by construction workers. It cost P2,999.95 and I told him it would be an investment for the future. He stared at me. To prove to him that I was serious, I even tried the ladder myself. I took off my shoes and asked the sales staff if I could climb it to see if I won't fall. I did not tell them that I had fear of heights. I climbed fast and made it straight to the sixth step, where I suddenly felt my chest tighten, my breath shortening. I could feel some tingling somewhere in my legs and my hands would have begun to shake and lost its grip but I tried to calm my hands down. I said, take it easy hands, you are the ones holding on to the ladder.

I managed to climb down and we began to ask if the ladder was too heavy to carry. They took the ones still wrapped in plastics and handed it to us. It was very light. You could just tie a red ribbon around it and gift it to me on Mother's Day. Karl should have handed it to me [instead of the chocolates he hurriedly bought from Seven Eleven], saying, Happy Mother's Day, Ma! I would have been so happy!

But the ladder cost that much. When I was about to pay, Ja again gave me that look. He dragged me outside the store and told me he would just borrow one from the staff of the hotel. 

So, early morning the following day, he brought in the borrowed construction ladder, already weather-beaten and well-used, with splotches of paint all over it. 

The whole morning, I was installing hook screws on the beam near the roof of the apartment terrace. It was quite a balancing act, another skill to master. When I was up there on its uppermost rung, I can't just move any way I wanted to because it was very easy to lose your balance.  Ja said he never expected me to be a good worker. He said I could follow instruction well and learned very fast. He said I would really thrive as a Blue Collar. Maybe, one day, I may even grow a penis.

I also installed lightbulbs on the ceiling--and all while the electric switches were on. We did not know whether the switches were off or on, so I told Ja it was better to pull down the plank because it was safer. But he would not do that. It was too much a bother for him to cut all electricity in the house, even for just a few minutes while I installed the bulbs. So, I would still be turning the bulb with my hands to install it in its socket when suddenly, it would light up. That's when we knew the switch was on. Every time that happens--lights lighting up the bulb I was holding in my hands, I would panic. The same feeling I get when it was already past deadline and the Manila desk was already asking for the story, but the story was nowhere to be found because of some missing crucial details that I still had to extract from sources who would not even answer the phone. That's the way it felt.

You should have seen me climb the ladder. It was a real milestone for me, a real social climb. We've already returned it when I realised I should have taken photo of me in it. I should have taken a real Selfie. 

But now, I'm at my desk, forcing myself to write. I can't write.

Resplendent tree

Actually, I've been telling anybody who cared to listen that I'd rather live in Upper, where the land is so expansive and neighbors are so far away, they will not be complaining about trees growing so tall they almost touch the sky. In that other place where I grew up, neighbors seem to regard trees as if they were enemies. 

They become very suspicious and cautious when they see a tree growing in your lot untrammelled. It was so infuriating when I heard someone say they were already quite afraid of a tree growing in our lot because it was already so tall, they were afraid it might fall. Then, there were those concerns about electric wires, or trees whose branches already overlapped into the next property. Once, a neighbor actually approached me saying I had to kill that tree growing high near our window because that was a Balete, a habitat for the enkanto. 
So, I said, I wouldn't want to live in that place where people regard trees like enemies. Or something they could cut for firewood. I would like to live in Upper, where I thought I could grow trees as much as I wanted to. I would cover the whole area with dipterocarp, I said. 
But the last time I was in Upper, I came upon somebody I did not know who told me this narra growing high along the roadside might already be interfering with the electric wires and might have to be cut off eventually. I was seething inside. 

Trip to Upper

I won't tell you where Upper is, but it's my beloved rainforest. When I got there, all I could hear was Jimmy saying, look at the clouds, there's nothing there, anymore, look, look! So, I looked up and saw clear, blue sky, the clouds had been carried away somewhere. It was very hot, the grasses had browned, the dust rose to one's nostrils and the wind was curiously stronger than usual. I could see the coconut trees straining to its onslaught. Was it really this windy here before? I asked myself but couldn't remember this kind of wind slamming my face, pushing the leaves to curl and branches of trees to sway. Jimmy said, grabe kahangin! 

When I turned around to the small trees I planted months ago, I noticed the Mindanao Eucalyptus dancing. No, maybe, it was not dancing. It was just trying to accommodate the wind. "The many things that the tree does to battle the forces of nature, an architect once told me. The many things the tree will do to keep its balance. I saw it in the Mindanao Eucalyptus tree dancing. I was afraid it was already straining itself to the limit. Is this already part of the ill effects of the El Niño? I asked myself and decided to look it up as soon as I get back to my life in the virtual world.

Self vs Self

Reading remains to be an ultimate source of pleasure to me so, I'm surprised to see here that I've not been writing about it. But why?! 

It's because you're always working, stupid, and only sneak some time to read!  

Hey, hey, hey! You promised not to address me in that tone anymore. Don't break your promise!

What's wrong?

You're self-blaming me again. Take the word stupid.

Oh, am I? Okay, how do I do that?

Write it's because you're always working and only sneak some time to read!

It's because you're always working and only sneak some time to read!

Story that I failed to write

Why can't I write it? Is it really that difficult? What's preventing me from writing it? What's the problem with me? Is it the tree? The Mindanao Eucalyptus, also called the Rainbow Tree, which is a beautiful tree? Is it the Balete somewhere outside the camera frame, the tree that started as a branch but grew into a tree? Is there anything wrong with me? Why can't I just roll up my sleeves and write? Oh, God. It will be such an injustice if I continue to fail to write this story. Praying for extra strength.

Feeling like Rip Van Winkle

As soon as the air cooled, I went out of the hotel and walked towards Osmeña Boulevard, where I took the jeepney that had Santo Niño on its signboard. I asked the driver what route would take me to San Jose and he said, this one, pointing to his manibela. So, after winding down through--was it Sanciangko or P. del Rosario Streets?--the jeepney finally went to my old street and dropped me near the gate. I immediately followed the walk that led to the chapel because that's what had always been on my mind--to find that chapel and see what it looks like now.

They call the walkway leading to it the Paseo Recoletos now, although I could not remember if we ever used that name before. To us, this was simply the way towards the chapel, you would meet so many people here, usually carrying things, baggages, sometimes sacks from the nearby Carbon market. Today, I met this woman hurrying towards somewhere, carrying at least three bags and dragging a child. Another man followed, this time, carrying a--what was that--a sewing machine?! Why do they have to manually carry a sewing machine? A beggar,  covered with soot, lie sleeping on the paseo's floor.  An obnoxious smell of dried urine assailed ones nose.

I was surprised to find the chapel's entry on the ground floor sealed but I could hear church music upstairs. Two opposite stairways led to the second floor. I chose one and heard someone--a priest?!--leading the novena. It's a novena, we're starting the novena, a woman told me. I did not know why she had to explain that to me.  I went down and asked the security guard how long had he been working there because I wanted to know when did they move the chapel to the second floor. But he said he was only working there for four years and it had been that way since he arrived.

I fell silent. I was gone thirty-three years!