(A One-Act Play)
(Synopsis)
Entangled follows the lives of Christian and Patrick, two Filipino expatriates working in another country. Both are married and lead seemingly uncomplicated lives—Christian works as a factory worker, and Patrick as a company driver. Though they share a deep friendship, their relationship is one of contrasts. Christian, an open book who frequently shares his struggles and misadventures, contrasts with Patrick’s more reserved nature. While Christian confides in Patrick about his difficulties, Patrick prefers to keep his life private, shrouded in secrecy.
Christian is at a crossroads. After years of infidelity, he feels the weight of his actions and decides to end an affair back in the Philippines. Fearing the loss of his wife, Missette, he resolves to mend his ways and rebuild his family. However, as Christian struggles to follow through on his decision, he is drawn into a deeper web of lies and betrayal.
The plot thickens when Christian, attempting to help his son with schoolwork, uses a remote access app to assist with online assignments. This seemingly innocent act reveals more than Christian bargained for. As Christian navigates the digital world, secrets begin to unravel, and he faces uncomfortable truths about those closest to him.
The play explores the complexities of trust, loyalty, and the impact of modern technology on relationships. Entangled uncovers the fragility of human connections, revealing how hidden secrets can be unearthed with a button. In a world where communication is constant, yet meaningful connections remain elusive, Christians must come to terms with the consequences of their actions before everything they value falls apart.
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Today, it’s Teachers’ Day here in South Korea. What could be more exhilarating than at the beginning of the class, students would hand you an expression of their appreciation for the things that you do as a teacher. I knew that at that moment, I must stop teaching and read the note. I was teary but bowed my head low so my students wouldn’t notice it. I don’t know if I succeeded in hiding from them that their gesture moved me. Those were not just tears of joy but triumph. I feel triumphant, for I could see from what they have written how my goals of establishing a good rapport with my students and making learning fun have panned out.
They call me 할아버지 [ha-ra-beo-ji], grandpa in English, because during the first day of class, when they saw the PhD at the end of my name, one of them asked how they should address me – Doctor Tony, professor Tony, or what. I told them I don’t like to be addressed as a doctor or professor, and Tony Harabeoji is better. They laughed that time, but I told them I was serious. They can call me either Tony or Tony harabeoji. When I said the same thing, one of my students in another class said, “What about oppa Tony?”. I said, “No.. I prefer Tony harabeoji.”
After the class, I reread the note. I reflected on what my students said. I have been an EFL/ESL teacher long enough to understand that there are realities in language learning that are inevitable. It is impractical to set very high expectations when your students in a class belong to different language proficiency levels and come from diverse language learning backgrounds. As a teacher, I always do my best to help students learn in a way that will not make them averse to learning. But in the end, if students are having a bad day and no matter what I do, I wouldn’t be able to make them understand a language lesson, then at least they have fun while attending my class. Making them smile despite their frustration of not being able to grasp the lessons I am teaching and convincing them to try harder next time is a victory. After all, staying motivated to learn despite failure indicates that they learned something more important than language lessons.
A dilemma confronting expatriates like me as we work and live in another country is what to do with our free time. We must decide how to spend the extra hours at our disposal, whether to use them effectively or squander them. Free time can either be an opportunity or a temptation. It presents a chance to be productive, doing something worthwhile that contributes to achieving our personal and professional goals, or it can lead us astray, luring us into mindless distractions or unfulfilling pursuits.
Understandably, the hours we spend not working are moments when homesickness or boredom could set in. Those not equipped with a coping mechanism against boredom and that intense yearning for home and beloved ones, resort to anything that can help them relax and overcome loneliness and emptiness. They find solace in entertainment, socializing, or, sometimes (and unfortunately), vices. More often than not, resorting to vices to overcome homesickness leads to more problems.
Finding a way to be productive with our extra hours is a protection against temptation and homesickness. Admittedly, that isn’t easy to do. Neuroscience and evolutionary psychology reveal that our brains are wired to seek pleasure and avoid pain. Thus, it is much more convenient for some to go out with friends and have a good time during non-working hours. The mind’s circuitry gravitates towards rewarding tasks instead of exerting more effort to do something else.
Being productive means looking for ways to use the time when we’re not working for worthwhile endeavors. Some of us use them to find a second job to earn extra income, while others use them to pursue a rewarding hobby. There are also those of us who utilize our free time for self-improvement. Of course, some expatriates also seek gratification when they are off duty. Let me clarify that using our free time constructively doesn’t mean depriving ourselves of enjoyment. We are entitled to a day off from time to time to breathe fresh air. For our overall well-being as expatriates, we need to strike a balance between work and life. But we need to draw the line between having fun and going wild.
Expatriates have different ways of using their free time effectively and efficiently, either for productivity’s sake, to protect themselves against temptations, or to overcome homesickness. Based on what I have gathered, most of my colleagues would flock to the capital city for socialization. During long weekends, a few of them would travel. Those with their families with them, of course, would spend their free time with their loved ones. But I would lie if I said that none of us unnecessarily indulged in some forms of vices, particularly gambling and drinking.
What about me? How do I spend my free time? Imagine this: I have 168 hours a week. As I sleep an average of 6 hours a night (42 hours a week), I am awake for 126 hours. My contract requires me to work 19 hours a week, spread over 4 weekdays. Let me add 3 hours to evaluate and assess my student’s performance. That still leaves me a little more than 100 hours a week. If I spend 3 hours daily on meals and snacks, that’s only 14 hours a week. Which means I still have a lot of free time. What Laura Vanderkam said in her book “168 Hours” is true: “You have more time than you think.”
I have more time than I thought. So, what do I do with it? If I am not communicating with my loved ones in my country of origin, I am either in the gym working out or outside walking. I spend an average of one hour a day connecting with my family, with longer sessions during weekends and holidays. On the other hand, I engage in all the physical activities I mentioned five times a week, each lasting at least an hour.
After doing all the other things I must, I figured I have an average of 50-60 hours a week of free time, sometimes more. Additionally, I have more free time during winter and summer breaks when the university does not require me to work, except for attending two-hour meetings at the end of a semester or when one begins. We are also required to attend graduation ceremonies two weeks before the start of each semester.
There came a time when I faced the dilemma of determining how to spend those excess hours. It wasn’t a question of whether to use them effectively or squander them. I know that I must walk the path of productivity during my free time and ensure that I don’t succumb to the enticement of a good life. That’s my mindset. I consider my extra hours an opportunity for growth, not an invitation to waste my resources and self-destruct. Expatriates, particularly those who don’t have their families with them like me, are prone to different kinds of temptations and vices.
And how specifically do I spend my free time?
Spending nights in the bar, particularly during weekends, is not my thing. I don’t enjoy wine and beer. I consider it illogical to drink a lot and then suffer from a hangover the following day. Besides, I know how much damage alcohol inflicts on human cells. I need to stay healthy, for it is difficult for expatriates like me to get sick and be hospitalized. So, I would rather stay home, read books, listen to audiobooks, or watch movies. That lifestyle appears boring, but with the many things that I could do, I have no time to be bored. No, I am not allergic to interaction. Quite the contrary, I love mingling with people, discussing anything under the sun with them. I am what psychologists refer to as an ambivert. I can switch any of my personality’s introvert and extrovert buttons as needed. I do socialize occasionally, but only with a few friends. We go out for dinner and coffee. I go to a noraebang with the same group on special occasions. But there are times when I need to switch to lonewolf mode.
I spend the majority of my free time pursuing my passion for writing. There is no better way to be productive with my extra hours than writing.
Writing has become a sanctuary for me, not just a way to pass the time, but a space where I can thrive emotionally, intellectually, and creatively. It is a refuge that protects me from the challenges of working and living abroad, allowing me to grow and reflect. In the pages of my writing, I have found peace, a workshop for my mind, and a shelter from the storms of life. Those pages shelter me from external and internal noise and help me find clarity.
There were times when writing protected me from my internal struggles. Through it, I could confront my demons and fears and transform them into meaningful and constructive expressions. I release my pain, anger, disagreement, and disappointments by writing about them. Whatever emotions boil within me, I express them creatively, through prose and poetry.
Making writing my sanctuary has not only fueled my productivity and creativity but also become a source of additional income.
Ultimately, how we choose to spend our free time plays a significant role in shaping who we are and how we grow, especially as expatriates navigating the complexities of life away from home. The hours we have at our disposal are a precious resource, allowing us to either build our lives or let them slip unnoticed.
For me, writing has become a powerful tool for personal development, a sanctuary that provides both protection and growth. But regardless of the path we choose—whether through physical activity, self-improvement, or connecting with others—the key is to make the most of every moment. We have more time than we think; with that time, we can either invest in our future or squander it. The choice is ours, and it is up to us to ensure that we walk the path of productivity, growth, and purpose, rather than succumb to temptations that may lead us astray and broke.
This poem delves into the intoxicating power of a stolen kiss, where passion ignites a series of events that sweep both the heart and mind into an uncontrollable frenzy. The imagery builds from the subtle softness of a simple kiss to the overwhelming intensity of love’s embrace, teetering on the edge of danger and surrender. Through the thief and the captive, the poem explores the thrilling descent into the depths of desire, where the heart is both captive and free.
(A Short Novel)
Light greeted my waking. It hurt my eyes. I closed them again. I felt my body aching all over. When I breathed, there was pain around my ribs.
I turned to my side and opened my eyes again, slowly.
I’m still alive. I’m not in heaven or hell, not in that mountain. I’m in a hospital room.
Two needles were stuck in my hand. Those are for the IV fluids that were hanging over the bed. I had an oxygen mask on, and it made me feel uneasy. I lifted it to check if I still needed it. When I realized I could breathe comfortably without it, I decided to take it off.
My arms were covered in bruises, and I was pretty sure my body and legs were too.
When I looked toward my feet, I noticed a woman with her head resting on the bed where I lay. It seemed she was watching over me. I wondered who it could be.
I tried to sit up, but my ribs hurt a lot. Could one or two of them be broken?
My movements awoke the woman.. She stood up and looked at me.
I knew the woman. I couldn’t be mistaken. She was the woman from the mountain. Without any hesitation, she hugged me. I was surprised, especially when she started crying unabashedly. It was awkward. I didn’t know whether to push her away or hug her back.
She was the reason I got beaten. She put me in harm’s way. Should I blame her?
Her hug tightened. At that moment, I suddenly remembered my sister. She would hug me tightly and cry, the way a woman does, whenever I confronted her about her wrong decisions.
“Dangsin-i sal-a gyesim-eul gamsadeulibnida.”
She thanked God that I was still alive. Should I also thank her for having survived the beating I got from her compatriots? Or blame her for being unable to push through with my plans.
“Jeongmal mianhae. Geugeos-eun modu nae jalmos-ieossda.”
The woman apologized, admitting that what had happened was her fault.
If you think about it, who was to blame for the beating I got? Could I blame the men who hit me, thinking I was assaulting their fellow citizen and a woman? If I had stumbled upon such a scene—a woman screaming, desperately trying to escape a man holding her tightly as they wrestled on the ground—what would I have done?
But is it my fault that it all happened because I stopped the woman from jumping? Was it right for me to try to stop her from taking her own life? The questions swirl inside me like a bitter winter wind, numbing any clarity I might have had. Yet, beneath the cold, like a hesitant bud breaking through the frost, I wonder if there’s any chance for warmth—if I did the right thing or if I’ve just trapped us both in an endless winter. Because of what I did, we continue to live. But does that mean we’ll also continue to feel the pain caused by those who neglected their promise to love us?
“How stupid of me. I put you in danger.”
She could speak English.
“Okay… okay… Just wait a moment! Let go of me first. I can’t breathe.”
She broke free from the hug. To my surprise, she knelt.
“Please forgive me.”
“Wait… wait… Please stand up. Don’t do that.”
The woman didn’t move. Her knees remained glued to the floor as she held my thigh.
I tried to stand. My legs and joints were in pain, but I managed. I placed my hands on her shoulders and gently lifted her.
“I am not blaming you for what happened to me.”
She stood up and hugged me again.
“Thank you. Thank you. But I’m sorry.”
After saying that, she gently sat me back down on the bed.
“Just sit down. You’re still weak. You are badly injured.”
I heeded her advice. I sat back on the edge of the bed.
“You might want to know. The doctors said all you have are bruises and contusions. None of your bones are broken.”
She pulled a chair and sat right in front of me. I couldn’t help but notice how comfortable she seemed doing all those things, as if we had known each other for a long time.
“By the way, I’m Su Jin.”
“Oh, and I’m…”
“Joseph! You’re Joseph. You’re from the Philippines. I’m sorry. I opened your wallet. I had to get information about you when I brought you here.”
I paused for a moment.
“Well, I think you had no choice but to do that. It’s okay.”
She took my cell phone and wallet from her bag and handed them to me.
“Here. Oh… I have your other personal belongings in my car.”
“Thanks. By the way, how long have I been here?”
“This is the second night.”
“How were you able to bring me to this hospital… from the mountain?”
“Those men helped me. I explained to them what happened. They’re very sorry. They were drunk at that time.”
Then I remember how I almost died in the hands of those men.
Ah, by the way, they’re paying for your hospitalization. They’re hoping you would not sue them and settle things amicably.”
Should I file a lawsuit? It doesn’t seem like it. If I were in their position, I might have done the same. It’s enough that they helped bring me to the hospital.
“I told them that they should pay you also for damages, especially if you decide not to work for some time because of what happened. They agreed. I’ll call them later so they can come and talk to you.”
It’s nice to think that she seems to have arranged everything. And she speaks English well. That’s not common among them. Unlike most of her countrymen, she must have graduated from university overseas or studied English seriously.
“How come you can speak English so well?”
“I studied in the US for almost 10 years. I just completed my Master’s there recently.”
That explains it.
“I was also able to contact your family in the Philippines.”
“Really? How?”
“Through your embassy. Your sister is coming to pick you up. She said you need to go home and take a break. By the way, Joseph…”
“Yeah?”
Su Jin hesitated. She seemed to want to say something, but was shy about it.
“Ah… Your sister told me your story.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know what happened.”
I didn’t know whether to be upset or not. My sister was so nosy.
“Is that so?”
She nodded and said, “We’re on the same boat.”
When I heard that, I couldn’t help but laugh a little. Su Jin laughed too. I don’t know why remembering what Jinky and my brother did to me didn’t bring any more bitterness.
Then she added, “They broke our hearts.”
I nodded, then said, “You wouldn’t believe this.”
“What?” Su Jin asked.
“I was on that mountain that afternoon to commit suicide.”
Su Jin froze.
“You want me to believe that!”
“But that’s the truth. Believe it or not.”
“Stop it, Joseph! I don’t believe you. You didn’t go there to die. You were there to save me. And you did.”
I just kept silent and listened to what she said. Who would believe that I went there to commit suicide? But instead of death, I found a new lease of life. But who was there for whom? Me for her or her for me. Perhaps we were there for each other. We were there to put an end to the harsh winter we experienced. We provided each other a spring of hope.
She took my hand. Her palms were so soft. She smiled and looked at me. Then, I realized how beautiful and sweet her face was, like the first bloom of spring pushing through the stubborn frost.
“”I owe you my life. You saved me. You are a very good man.”
I gently squeezed her hands in response, not knowing what to say. After all, was she the only one saved when I stopped her from jumping? I got saved as well.
“Thank you, too, Su Jin.”
She nodded and smiled and slowly bowed her head.
I don’t believe in fate. Everything that happens in a person’s life is the product of their collective decisions. But before I established my own belief system, informed by the things I learned and experienced, as well as the ideas I read and decided to embrace, my father told me when I was a boy that there are times when God intervenes in human affairs. Subconsciously, I sometimes revert to what my father said, rather than clinging to my new belief about fate. Additionally, he stated that everything happens for a reason.
So, how should I put it? Was it the will of God that I climbed the mountain that day to prevent Su Jin from jumping? But who prevented whom from jumping? It’s hard to believe that God would will Jinky and my brother to commit that treachery against me so that I would go to the mountain and eventually meet Su Jin. I think I met her on the mountain because we both decided to go there for personal reasons. But whatever it may be, it’s no longer important.
“By the way, aren’t you hungry?” That was Sujin breaking the silence as she let go of my hands.
“I brought some food.” She pointed to the table.
“Yeah, actually, I’m starving. Is there coffee available?”
“I’m afraid not, but there’s a café nearby. I’ll buy us coffee. What do you want?”
“Is it okay?”
“Of course!”
“Can you get me a caramel macchiato, please?”
“Sure! I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Wait!” I opened my wallet.
“No please. It’s on me.”
Before she left the room, Su Jin looked back at me. She smiled again.
“Don’t go anywhere, okay? Don’t run away from me.”
I laughed at what she said. Su Jin had a sense of humor.
I thought about her words before she left. It was funny, but honestly, I’d feel regret and sadness if she didn’t come back. It felt like she was filling some gap in my life at that moment. Did she feel the same way?
After a while, the door opened.
“Oh, you’re still here. I am glad you didn’t try to escape.” She said as she handed me the coffee.
“You’re funny.”
“Am I?”
She took a piece of bread from the table and gave it to me.
“By the way, your sister invited me to visit the Philippines. I’d like to. May I go with you and your sister? PLEASE. I need a little break.”
I looked at her and smiled.
“Chincha?”
I asked if she was serious. She looked like she was.
“Ne!.. Boo ta kam ni da!”
She retook my hands. She squeezed them tightly. It felt like she was warning me that if I disagreed, she’d twist my hands.
When I nodded, I saw how her face lit up with happiness.
“Yes! Gomabseubnida!”
Su Jin thanked me, and in her joy, she hugged me again. I hugged her back and rested my head on her shoulder. She allowed it. In that moment, the warmth of her embrace felt like the first rays of spring breaking through my heart’s long, harsh winter, offering a glimpse of renewal I hadn’t dared to hope for.
As for my mother, elder brother, and Jinky, I think I would eventually learn to forgive and forget, like the last snow of winter thawing and finally giving way to the soft bloom of spring.
M.A.D. LIGAYA
M.A.D. L I G A Y A 