sissi’s corner

Sinigang na hipon has always been my go-to comfort food.

Out of all the Filipino dishes there are in the world, it has been my ultimate favorite, especially if my grandfather is the one cooking it.

Wowo, as I always endearingly called him since childhood, would cook it for me when I would request it, or to reward me for doing well in my academics, or simply because he just feels like it. I love sinigang na hipon terribly to the point where I’ve already grown accustomed to its sight, aroma, and taste. Yet, despite my usual consumption of it, I still feel so much excitement and anticipation as if it was my first time to eat it all over again.

I would light up when I open our green gate for my grandfather and get to see his two hands holding bags filled with a bunch of green kangkong leaves, fat okras, and a plethora of river shrimps, all fresh from the neighborhood market, or sariwa, as we often described them.

I would light up, too, when I get to hear the simmering of boiling water and see the thin waves of vapor that come with it, along with the kangkong leaves and okra turning into a more vibrant green hue, and the shrimps into a vibrant orange.

That’s how you know it’s fresh. That’s how you know it’s gonna be good.

As I would finally get called for lunch or dinner, I would happily go down the stairs, my slippers stepping noisily out of excitement, later accompanied with eyes twinkling and mouth watering at the sight of the newly cooked sinigang na hipon and its aroma brought about by its hot, tamarind soup broth.

And everytime I would take a good slurp of the soup or a bite of the orange shrimps and green vegetables, it feels as though I was either rewarded for my hard work, or I could breathe, I could relax, or I could escape from reality for a while.

Of course, it gets better whenever I have something to share at the dining table.

Although it mostly isn’t food of some sort, but rather some stories and updates about my life and shenanigans in university.

To be completely honest, my stories can be outright random, and either be completely boring or interesting to my mom and grandfather.

Nevertheless, there’s always a bowl of sinigang na hipon to complement, or even compensate, for my constant yapping.

I could say I have been through a lot, and it wasn’t just my family who were witnesses to it. Every bowl of sinigang na hipon became witness to my own life journey. It’s as if those black eyes of the shrimps have seen everything I did, and the numerous veins of the kangkong leaves felt all the raw emotions I would either be showing or hiding, or even the asim-kilig taste of the whole dish mirroring the sour moments of my own life.

Sinigang na hipon is and has always been my holy grail of every sort.

It appeases and calms me in times of distress and illness.

It makes me feel like I have won the lottery or obtained a gold medal at the Olympics.

It brings me and my family closer together.

“What are you doing?” My mother would ask when we would start conversing over the phone.

The younger me would have said anything under the sun.

I would have said she was painting, playing a musical instrument, watching movies and television, reading a book, journalling, crocheting, and so many more possible answers to that question.

Younger me would be telling my mother that she was having so much fun doing it.

Every single moment was never a dull moment for the younger me.

Nowadays, not a single bone in my body can even have the energy to do any of those things.

I, of the present, however, would instead tell my mother that I slept, I studied, or I cleaned the house.

Most of the time, I would now just limit myself to either of those three.

Yet, behind my dull and tired tone that I use to blurt out those words is constant, suppressed yearning to say that I was maybe still painting vivid landscapes, flipping through fresh-smelling pages, or enjoying aesthetic cinematography and the sight of my comfort characters.

What should I even be doing? Why do I have to always be in a state of ‘doing’, a state of productivity? Why should I have to outgrow or stop my other hobbies to show that I was responsible? – The counter questions I give when I try to answer the question ‘What are you doing?’ these days. I then realized that I was stuck in the middle, that I was facing a crisis of ‘to do or not to do’, as if I was Hamlet saying ‘to be or not to be’.

All these hobbies I had as a child and during most of my teenage years, these are what made me, ME. And yet, to think that I have made these activities and my ‘no dull moment’ mindset a big part of my own personality, only for them to be taken away from me all because I entered college and about to enter my 20s, humbled by the real world into realizing that I was never a genius nor an all-rounder.

“What are you doing?” I’m yearning to go back to how things used to be.

I yearn for my paint brushes, acrylics, watercolors, pencils, and the images I could have recreated.

I yearn for my pale and yellowish-paged paper bounds, untouched since purchase, and the untold stories I would have been eager to learn about.

I yearn for my abandoned Netflix account and Letterboxd journal, and the many films and series I would have tuned in to.

I yearn for my keyboard, hidden alongside boxes, and the pieces I would have jammed to.

I yearn for my only hook and colorful yarn collection, and the projects I would have continued.

I yearn for anything that does not have to do with my bed, my laptop, the vacuum, the sink, or the trash can.

I yearn for the day where I would finally find a better answer to “What are you doing?”.

“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked.”

–Sylvia Plath, ‘The Bell Jar’

A girl could dream

About exciting adventures to Europe

Whether that be

Indulging in artistic pleasures in Paris

Riding a Vespa on her Roman holiday

Or waltzing in the palaces in Vienna.

In this fig,

She leads a life of wanderlust, and

In those places, a piece of herself she entrusts.

A girl could dream

About conquering the stage and silver screen

Whether that be

As a director;

With the genius of Spielberg and the aesthetic of Anderson

Or an actress;

Taking on the role of a dreamer or of someone from way back.

In this fig,

She leads a life of spectacle and glamour

Risking her peace for the fans’ and cameras’ clamor.

A girl could dream

About a life in law

Whether that she

Becomes an attorney with a facade of steel,

a voice for the voiceless,

Or a diplomat pushing for sustainable initiatives.

In this fig,

She leads a life of political rigor

In which justice prevailed makes her a triumph and a victor.

A girl could dream

About the many things she could do,

The many lives she could live,

And the many paths she could take.

All these figs she would have savored,

had there been nothing in her way

Or no one to tear her down.

A Sonnet after Brian Bilston

Hello, my dearest little orange cat

Whom I’ve been with since lockdown ‘22.

Right now you may be kneading the floor mat.

Hold your biscuits! I’ve something to tell you.

First impressions, I thought you’d scratch or bite.

Even though compared to me, you were small.

Now, we eat, study, sleep throughout day and night,

and I saw you weren’t scary after all.

If there is one thing I have realized for sure,

maybe it’s nice to have a friend.

Thank you for a bond so wholesome and pure,

Dear orange cat, I’ll love you ‘til the end.

Whenever I’m with you, I’m not alone.

“Vivan Los Filipinos. Mabuhay ang mga Filipino.”

This film is the story of the three martyr priests. Three Filipinos who were part of the native community who were once under Spanish colonial rule and oppression. If you have been updated, or have been listening in your elementary Philippine history classes, it’s GOMBURZA, not MAJOHA. 

Despite it being produced by Jesuit Communications, the film was able to execute (No pun intended) a factual depiction on a turning point of Philippine history without overused emphasis of religion. It was able to capture how the Catholic faith was used as an instrument of oppression during the Spanish colonial period (This was especially ironic considering how return of the religious orders, including the Jesuits, were the reason for the silencing of the secularization movement). What also impressed me is that almost every single detail in the movie, even in the dialogue, came from actual events in history. It is evident that enough research was made to make this film as accurate as possible.

The film’s cinematography was able to capture life during the period whether it was amongst the Filipino liberals, the Spanish priests, the Governor-Generals, or even the three main characters in our story. With every other scenes of the film shifting from light to dark atmospheres, this symbolized the reality of Spanish colonization — warmth, acceptance, and friendship amongst fellow Filipinos; and ruthlessness, inhumanity, and oppression from the Spaniards (and even traitors). Adding emphasis to GomBurZa’s (2023) cinematography is its sound design. Just by feeling the cinema floor rumbling and the deeply-voiced voiceover in the film’s ending segment, this film can come to a point where it deserves its own IMAX screening.

Dante Rivero and Cedrick Juan showcase over-the-top stellar performances as Padre Mariano Gomez (played by Rivero) and Padre Jose Burgos (played by Juan). Both actors have embodied their roles, not only due to the fact that they, especially Juan, share a slight resemblance with the real life Mariano Gomez and Jose Burgos. It is also because that they were able to portray their emotions from having a friendly conversation, to later condemning their unfair arrest, trial, and death.

Pepe Diokno's time and effort in conducting research and including every important detail in the production is evident in the whole film itself, as it was not only ACTUALLY based on true events, but was able to evoke emotion and outrage, just like how the Filipinos of the 1870s did at the time.

With all of this said, GomBurZa (2023) is not only a history lesson, but also an immersion into the Spanish colonial rule and the lives of the three priests. Being a history nerd and a cinephile who has since learned the names of the three martyr priests as a little girl in elementary, I can definitely say that this was one of the only film experiences where I had witnessed the breaking of the fourth wall. The whole time I was in the cinema, it felt like I was part of their conversation, like I was a witness to their lives and execution.

What also added to this experience was that I watched the film on Rizal Day, and what better way to commemorate our national hero's contribution to Philippine independence than to learn about where it all started? Like what I always preached to my family:

Without GomBurZa, there will be no Jose Rizal. Without Jose Rizal, there would be no Andres Bonifacio. Without all of them, the Philippines and the Filipino would not exist.

GomBurZa (2023) is a cathartic experience that is definitely for the family. This film is a testament to the importance of appreciating and learning our history. Hopefully it serves as a reminder of our collective past, national identity, and the importance of our freedom.

[Metro Manila Film Festival 2023]

(my film review of "GomBurZa" is also available on letterboxd!)

“‘Di ba’t isang sumpa ang magmahal?”

Mallari does not only showcase the story of the infamous Fr. Severino Mallari, but also delves into the lives of men from succeeding generations of his clan. The first descendant, Johnrey, a documentary filmmaker in post World War II Philippines, and the second being Jonathan De Dios, a doctor and the lead protagonist of the film. The two descendants of Fr. Severino try to discover their family’s darkest secret, which most likely has contributed to the killings and disappearances in Magalang, Pampanga.

All three generations of the Mallari clan are played by Piolo Pascual, which is perceived to be difficult parts to play. However, Pascual was able to to help distinguish one generation from another and yet was able to establish the connection between all three characters.

What also is depicted in the movie is the presence of important female figures in each of the Mallari men’s lives: Dona Facunda, Fr. Severino’s mother played by Ms. Gloria Diaz, Felicity, Johnrey’s wife played by Elisse Joson, and Agnes, Jonathan’s fiancee played by Janella Salvador. All three actresses gave the three women their respective well-defined characters which was able to show how each Mallari’s love for these women had urged them to take greater lengths, even if it will cost them their own morals.

JC Santos does an excellent job in portraying Brother Lucas in the likeness of Brutus from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, as he showcases his character’s loyalty and later betrayal to Pascual’s Dr. Jonathan.

The film may remind one of Luca Guadagnino’s Bones and All (2022) with its presence of common themes such as gore and manslaughter. It is also important to note how both Carido and Guadagnino have commonly used manslaughter as a dark metaphor for love as a motive of sacrifice and self-discovery, which the former has executed very well and evidently in Mallari (2023). It also bears similarities with Edgar Wright’s Last Night in Soho (2021) not just with the presence of gore and manslaughter, but also with the key theme of time travel, which the two Mallari descendants have used in order to learn about the dark secret of their family for this film.

The film had a well-organized flow of events, as well as a smooth transition in between time periods. It was able to give me and other viewers proper context and a good idea on how to let the story unfold and think about what could happen next. However, Jonathan’s arc was very anti-climactic towards the end yet it established his arc as an anti-hero.

Another thing to love about this film is that not only did it have Gothic themes and the use of the Catholic faith, which are associated as Western literary and cultural elements, but it also incorporated the use of Filipino folk medicine and faith healing, which are indigenous Filipino cultural elements, as important parts of the film.

In conclusion, Mallari (2023) was a great watch, and it definitely deserved the accolades. Not only did it bring justice to a dark love metaphor, but it also presented and promoted Filipino culture through folk medicine as key horror elements. It is a must watch for traditional Filipino horror movie buffs and those in need of a fresh face to Filipino horror films.

[Metro Manila Film Festival 2023]

RATING - ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

(review is also available on letterboxd!)

(inspired by the song above; I encourage you to listen to the song while reading this piece)

I try to process, to cope with this sense of guilt lingering through my veins. A sense that lingered ever since he was gone. Lee, the person who gave me security, comfort, and love - all the things I so longed for, is gone.

And it was because of me.

Dying in one’s arms is mostly associated with a situation where a person witnesses someone who’s about to have their last breath. But Lee? He didn’t die in my arms.

He died in my hands. The thing is, I didn’t even want to eat him anyway.

It was his dying wish. I’ve seen how he also suffered during own life, from the stories he told as we drove across the country roads to those he told while sitting in the vast Nebraska grasslands. Losing Kayla, the person who’s got his back way before I came, was the last straw, after enduring years of abuse and the same lingering guilt I am feeling. Losing Kayla meant losing his will to live. And so that was his last request for me. I reluctantly agreed at that moment, and he was gone at the next.

Could I have done something else, rather than having to feed on him?

It continues to ring in my head, along with the guilt living in me. It continues to bother me at my every waking moment. All of nature has witnessed my grief whilst finding my own strength to continue whatever there is for me in this life.

My father left me. Lee has left too. I am left all alone. I am on my own.

If I had cleaned up and rushed to the ER, maybe he would have stayed. Maybe he would have lived. Maybe we would have continued to lead normal lives, like how people do.

But I was not a miracle worker. I was not the Christ. I was just a mere human. 

It was his dying wish, and I agreed to it because I loved him. And love also needs sacrifice. He wanted to rest, to be free from all the guilt and the hurt that continuously pestered and bothered him in his life. 

And so, I let him go. 

One could go inside such a colossal schloss with a blank artistic slate, foolish artistic hopes, an undying passion for art, and a dream.

This “palace”, which settled on a small, Southeast Asian island, had a library and a government office as its next-door neighbors. locals, students, and maybe even a handful of tourists, flock to this place to learn, and relive the history and culture of the nation and the continent it lies on.

Crowds consisting of those I mentioned constantly flock this schloss as time goes by, maybe to see the works of renowned artists, local and international. The latter was one quite an unexpected attraction, as similar places have only displayed the works of artists who’ve come from the motherland.

The locals come to the schloss to appreciate the colorful and eventful history of the island, to praise and uplift the nation, with that sense of nationalism burning in their whole being, body and soul.

The students, especially the little ones, come here for school trips, the locals’ sense of nationalism being instilled and passed on to them through art history, education, and its appreciation.

Tourists, like me, enter the colossal schloss with an eagerness to learn about the island’s heritage, instilling the value of cultural tolerance and relativism through art.

I, a tired humanista with an undying love for the arts, had come here to escape the stress of academia and reconnect with my first passion, from which I have been estranged from for a while.

They say first impressions last, and this schloss had done that for us, the crowd that day. Its European architecture with a fusion of native Southeast Asian elements of housing was met by astonishment as seen in the eyes of the crowd that continuously wandered around the place.

A further look inside, variations of traditional and contemporary art made a spectacle of themselves wherever people went. It even had a gallery paying homage to Chua Mia Tee, a well-known artist who witnessed and captured every moment of the nation’s growth through his paintings. The works of National Artists such as Botong Francisco, Hernando Ocampo, and Fernando Amorsolo could just surprise any Filipino who steps foot into the Southeast Asian art exhibit. The paintings from neighboring SEA countries that stand beside their paintings add to the vibrancy of the museum’s aura despite its raging silence. Sculptures strike a pose from one place to another, flexing their figures and beauty.

And just for a while, it made one feel at home.

This colossal schloss, decorated with ‘obras’, was a place of refuge and strength for a person who had craved for the artistic touch, after having it taken away by academic and corporate demands during the pandemic. The striking and beautiful variety of colors as seen and the coexistence of Cubist, realist, and contemporary art styles were an eye reopener and a way home to a passion for art.

heya there !! i’m sissi, 18, and i’m a senior in high school.

what else is there to know?

i love films. i love studying the plot, character development, cinematography, background, and directing styles of films and its directors. i love dead poets society, last night in soho, moonrise kingdom, and before sunrise.

i love music, most especially 80’s new wave and kpop. my favorite new wave artists are duran duran, modern talking, tears for fears, and depeche mode. i’m an engene who just recently stanned enhypen full time this year. i’m so in love with sunoo but i’m a true blue ot7.

i’m a bookworm who just got back from a reading slump. i’m into historical fiction/period and coming of age novels, and comedic plays. my favorites are ari and dante, little women, and the importance of being earnest. the books i read and my creative nonfiction classes are what inspired me to begin this blog.

i’m obviously new to the writing community, and i don’t know what’s in store for me. but hey, feel free to maybe take a peek at whatever i scribble and post here on this blog.