Void

I am writing because I’m confused. I am writing because I can’t wrap my head around the idea of a loss. I am writing, hoping that spitting out these words might make it more real, and then it’ll finally hit me, and then I can start accepting.

I met Ate Mags when I celebrated my 21st birthday in La Union last year. She exuded a presence you cannot ignore. She was a ball of sunshine, the life of the party, someone you cannot not love. I distinctly remember what she told me when everyone was teasing me to extend my stay in LU…

Me: “I have to go home.”
Ate Mags: “But this is your home.”

Why go home so soon, Ate Mags? Of all people, you. I don't know where I got the idea, but I think a  lot will agree with me here: I've always thought you were invincible. You were the type of person who lived your life without any excuses. You make plans and you do them. Do you remember the title of the mixtape I gave you? Kiss of Life. I've always imagined you turning 70, with a bottle of JD in one hand and a cigarette in another, still putting those teenagers to shame with your undying lust for life. Why go home so soon?

I never told you this, but I looked up to you. I'll never forget your snippets of advice when it comes to my career in advertising and my questionable love life then. You always seem to know what to do. You always seem to have your shit together. It's amazing how unbelievably optimistic you are, especially when it comes to love. How passionate you are in your job; how you always find time for your friends on top of your crazy work schedule; how you make us feel old with your childlike energy and enthusiasm. You are indeed happiness on steroids.   

We know you lived your life to the fullest, and you died in your happy place, but that does not make it easier for us, does it? 

I am already dreading the next MSA officers meeting, the next MSA event, because it is impossible not to feel the void you left. 

I know you’re up there, surfing perfect waves with your tall, dark and funny boylets. I hope you went knowing how much you are loved. 

I’ll see you when I see you.

All the luster of your bones, those arms that held you strong.

Disclaimer: This is not a blog entry about surf. I am not here to tell you about the wave conditions last weekend, or how stoked everyone was. This is an entry about a feeling, a primal feeling that I was reminded of last Saturday. This is not a blog entry about surf. You have been warned.

Manong Lemon

The forecast last weekend was 5-6 feet if I'm not mistaken. For a beginner like me, seeing these figures is intimidating as it is, but it's a whole new different story when you paddle out and meet the ocean.

Hi, ocean.

It wasn’t until I reached the lineup when something dawned on me. At first I thought it was the coffee kicking in, or the cold water against my rashguard-less skin. It took me a while before finally recognizing it. Fear. Primal, gripping, cold fear. It’s not that I haven’t been afraid before. It’s just that I know fear in the context of the abstract – fear of failure, that something will not go my way, that I’ll never have it figured out. But that Saturday morning session was different. As someone who's used to surfing small waves, head-high to overhead sets were enough to scare me out of my wits. For the first time in a long time, I felt fear for a real, physical, literally in my face danger. 

Jeff Dela Torre

I kept on paddling out whenever a see a set coming because of fear. I kept on bailing whenever I’m about to drop on a wave because of fear. I kept on staying on the outside – where I felt a little safer, but where my paddling power is not enough to catch a wave. The heavy rains, the occasional thunder, the perpetual gloom and the fact that I am using a much thinner board did not help either. “Why the hell am I here”, “why did I even start surfing”, “I should have been at home reading a new novel” were just some of the things running in my head that time.

Jay-R Esquivel

In between sets, I found ways to amuse myself. Watching Tito Phil and Kalua surf those waves so effortlessly was jaw-dropping. The sight of a thousand raindrops kissing the ocean, the beauty of a breaking wave and offshore wind, Karla and Tito Tonet with me in the lineup – yes, not every session will leave you stoked, but surfing is definitely one of the most amazing things a person can and should experience.

Benits!

Sunday morning gave us more humane and forgiving waves. I decided to stay a little more on the inside, decided to paddle for “bangon na bangon” waves (since I realized they are soft and they break slowly), decided to be a little braver than the day before. I was rewarded with a couple of long lefts, nothing photo-worthy, just enough to make me smile in the lineup. 

Bilmar. Two years bro! ;)

I know I have a LOT of things to work on – stronger paddling, right timing, faster pop ups. But at least now, I know something that I did not know last week. I cannot do all these without conquering fear first.

Shaken and still,
Miccah

Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

I'm no goofy but I have always loved the south swell. For two years now, the promise of waves after the summer drought arrived on my birthday. It's far from an epic swell but I've had my surf fix on my birthday weekend, and it's consistently satiating. Satiating and reassuring.

But south swell tends to overpromise at times. It's like seeing a long-lost friend, catching up over the weekend only to find him missing come Monday. It's like a game of all or nothing - either you score a session that's one for the books, or you go back to Manila short of your much needed stoke. 

Or you can make the most out of whatever the ocean gives you.

Ana Abad Santos

The forecast for the Maui and Sons Surf Kalikasan Project looked good enough. We at the Manila Surfers Association consulted the locals and all possible forecast sites. We've discussed the swell, the logistics, the pros and cons of moving the event date before coming to a decision - let us risk it than wonder if there will be any waves in the next weekends. 

Camille Pilar

Come Saturday, we were welcomed by knee to waist-high sets, at best. No matter how hard I tried to get a good angle and make the waves look a bit bigger, perspective can only do so much. But we all tried to look at the brighter side of it - it could have been flat. Given the right mindset, those ankle-snappers were gems. 

Paddle battle. Tin Terible, Barbi Cruz, Julie Tagulinao, Ana Abad Santos

Our respect goes to all the competitors last weekend. We know that given the right swell, you all could have given us a visual spectacle of cutbacks, cross-steps and soul archs. But to surf tiny waves during low tide and still kill it? Mad, mad respect for everyone.

Sean Nino

All my co-officers would agree that organizing a surf competition can be extremely tiring. But cliche as it may sound, loving what you do makes you wake up at five a.m., run around to get things done and sacrifice some surf and drinking time.

Vinni Sanchez

Saying we had good waves would be pushing it too far, but the support and participation shown by everyone more than made up for the lack of swell.

Kim Jones

I am ending this blog entry with a few of my favorite surf shots, and the feeling of pride to be part of such an amazing team. See you guys in the post-party!

Paco Fernandez

Buji Libarnes

Ejay Ventura

Paolo Soler

For the official set of event photos, please click here.

Like the Manila Surfers Association page and the Maui and Sons page!

Now, to work on my watermark and a proper blog lay-out. :)

Miccah

Your Mind is Racing Like a Pro Now

Scenes from last night's Bente Bente event at the White Lights. Congratulations to The Fort Longboarders! 

As much as I want to describe what they're doing, I can't really write accurate captions because of my amazingly vast skate tricks vocabulary. :P But to hear me say "wiiiild" the whole time I was pressing the shutter should more or less give you an idea of how good these guys are.

'Til the next event,
Miccah

On happiness or how to outrun your shadows

I have received the best compliment I have ever heard in my 21 years of existence. 

“Mics, you look really happy.”

And then it dawned on me. I really am happy. I’ve never been this happy. It’s like waking up to a perfect streak of sunlight every single day, and feeling like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. No Ma, I’m not taking drugs. To put it simply, I guess I am in love with life.

My happy moodboard

Whoever said that happiness is not given out in a silver platter is not kidding. Mine came with a lot of battle scars, literally and metaphorically. The upper part of my left thigh would always remind me of our white water surf session in ABCD Beach, Calicoan Island – strong current, Odyssey waves ready to eat you up from behind, getting out of the lineup after a ride, walking to the other end where you paddled out and doing it all over again. My left leg would always bring back that memory of my first paddle out to Point – new board, first ride, broken leash, some rescuing needed, just my kind of surf session, really. A scar on my right elbow would always remind me of that very first time I was taught how to skate. It reminds me of losing control, being a little too reckless, and ultimately, the feeling of flight. But all those instances, with blood on my legs and arms, I distinctly remember going back and trying again. Because happiness is a process, not a state. It is a constant cycle of trying-failing-winging it-failing-trying again. Because choosing to be happy means putting yourself out there, stripping yourself of your biggest fears and breathing in everything that experience has to offer. 99% of the time, you won’t get out unscathed. If you leave in exactly the same condition as you arrive, then you didn’t give enough. Yes, we’re still talking about scars. ;)

Whoever said that happiness is not given out in a silver platter must have had a lot of arguments with his/her parents. Because I’ve had. Disclaimer: I love my parents. I love them more than sunset surf sessions, Thurskate nights, Is This It and blueberry cheesecake combined. And I understand that when they tell me not to go surfing or skating, they are just worried that:

1. I might die.

2. I might get injured and die.

3. I might get scarred.

4. I might get skin cancer.

5. I might get in a road accident.

6. My heart condition will go back and I will go through the whole medication again and I might die.

7. I might die. Basically. 

I love you Ma and Pa, but I cannot and will not stop surfing and skating anytime soon. Nothing, and I mean, NOTHING, has made me feel THIS alive. I will not get tired of explaining this to you until you come around to it. Don’t worry. I will always put on sunblock and try my best not to die out there. Don’t worry. I’ll never be that cool stereotypical surfer/skater chick you see in movies. I’ll always be your bunso who cuddles up to you when you sleep.

Whoever said that happiness is not given out in a silver platter must have been perpetually beat. I know I am. Travelling a total of 12 hours on weekends to surf and making it to Manila just in time for the Monday grind seems ridiculous to a lot of people. I would go out at night (around 10 pm) to skate or to meet up with friends and my housemates would ask me, “don’t you have work tomorrow?” And I would say yes with a big smile on my face. Tired would be a gross understatement. But given a choice between exhaustion and boredom, I’d go for the first one in a heartbeat. 

So ask yourself. A perpetually tiring, oftentimes difficult, deliberate quest for happiness, or a let-life-pass-you-by stand still? The second one is a whole lot easier, but no thanks. I'd rather sleep with a worn out body and a free soul.

To happiness,

Miccah

[MIXTAPE] They'll Name A City After Us

Posting a mixtape I did for, uhm, Valentine's Day. Out of all the mixes I made, this one took me the longest to complete. Happy love songs are not exactly my forte. Out of all the mixes I made, predictably, this one got the most likes. 

Chasing Light

Or how to fail miserably at shooting skate in low shutter speed. :P Forgive the amateurs. We'll get decent shots next time.

Monday skate with surf/skate/photography classmate TJ Cafuir of lokalsoul.com 

That hat

Ghostly

Hipsta

  

Rave party

Outrun my shadow

Stoked and now a mini cruiser fan

'Til next skate session,

Miccah