halungkat

nung bata pa ako, ang tawag ni Mama sa akin, Basurera. Walang tinatapon. Notes sa ka-klase, love letter (maski di ko type ang lalake), report kard, resibo, doodle sa napkin...
Naku Anak kapag may sunog, una ang kuwarto mo!
Naku anak, baka may mga mababait nang nakatira diyan!
Aba! Nakakapagtanim na ata ng kamote sa alikabok! Iligpit mo na ang papeles mo!

These past few weeks my whole life has been about halungkat. Not my mess-- which I took care of years ago-- but other people's mess. Other people's records. A lifetime of paperwork. Everyone has their own little cave of drafts, receipts, doodled table napkins... and in the middle of all that is a document I need. I've offered to help them look for it but everyone's very territorial about their basura.

Yesterday I found myself diving into dust, wading through papers (trying to avoid cockroach shell casings and dried rat poo). Again, this was not my mess. I was in the warehouse looking for those damn documents. But before it sounds like one long grumble, I'd like to say that I had so much fun. You learn so much about people and institutions when you go through their papers. Old chismis, old photographs, unpublished gems, rejection letters... This is why I like basura. And when you find what you're looking for in the middle of all that, the rush you get is incredible. I wonder if this is how archeologists and treasure hunters feel on a successful dig.