A DAY IN THE LIFE

Today is the last day of the year. I woke up this morning with a headache and a toothache. It was not my idea of welcoming the new year.

2006 was indeed the Year of the Dog. I believe that I both worked and strayed like one this year. Tired and lost, I got used to eating three square meals of pessimism a day. And just when I thought things where falling into place, one by one they start falling into pieces.

I woke up this morning in pain, just as my son was lazily opening his eyes from his deep slumber. He then gave me the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.

I will begin again.

Fours hours to go…

Ige and I went to Robinsons this morning. We played at the video arcade and looked for a Christmas gift for my brother’s newborn baby. Unfortunately, we never saw an item that fitted my budget (not so surprising since I didn’t have one in the first place). I bought a new deodorant instead because I was already scraping the old one yesterday just to put something in my underarms. Before leaving, we decided to eat lunch at this new food stall. While waiting for Ige to finish his food, I counted the money I have left. Although it was quite depressing, I tried to look at the bright side — at least it’s easier to count when you don’t have much. Tangina.

We left the mall and stayed at the shop until 5pm then went for a stroll inside the campus. I was about to drive him back to his mom around past 7pm when I realized that the deodorant that I bought was not inside the car. I knew that I left it at the table where we ate lunch. It’s so not me leaving things. I guess I was too preoccupied counting my millions and thinking about my uncollectible collectibles that I forgot that I bought something. We went back to the mall but the food stall was already closed and they won’t open until the morning of the 26th. Kung Rexona Ministick siguro yun, okay lang. Eh, kaso hindi. Tangina, P140 din yun! For me, that’s already expensive. Good thing I was with Ige, otherwise I would’ve snapped. As I was driving him home, he started making fun of the incident by narrating what happened to the tune of "Magasin" because it was the song playing inside the car. After a few lines, he stopped singing and said, "Ayoko nang kumanta. Nagpapatawa na nga ako tapos wala namang tumatawa". Naku, nagtampo pa tuloy. I said sorry and told him that his parody was funny but I just couldn’t laugh because I got pissed off by what happened earlier. I asked him to continue what he was singing and he willfully obliged. We soon arrived at his grandmother’s house, wished each other a merry Christmas and then kissed goodbye. I decided to stay here inside the shop for a few hours before going back to the apartment. I bought three bottles of beer from Ate Weng (she owns the store across Aling Aswang) and then she gave me a bowl of pansit bihon. The best talaga ang ice-cold San Miguel Beer. Tangina.

Two more hours before Christmas…

My mother, my brother and my three cousins are going to spend the night at the other shop. I’m used to spending Christmas (or even New Year’s) Eve alone and it’s no big deal.  Being alone doesn’t necessarily mean you are lonely. But why does it feel that this time it is different?

Tomorrow I’ll still be scraping my old deodorant.

Merry Christmas to all.

Man, I almost forgot. I am now two years smoke-free. Two years and two days to be exact. Who would have thought, huh? I just hope I don’t get back into that filthy habit.

Wouldn’t it be nice to celebrate this personal milestone by smoking a stick of Marlboro Red? I think I already forgot how it tastes but I still remember how damn good it feels. Ahhh.

Ige once told me, "Tatay, promise hindi talaga ako magyo-yosi kahit isang nanosecond." I smiled at him and said, "Very good," even though what I really wanted to say was, "Wag ka na lang mag-promise, anak. Gawin mo na lang. Sinabi ko rin yan dati, eh." Hehehe. But of course I am glad to hear that from him.

If there’s one thing I don’t want to hear from him in the next fourteen to fifteen years, it would have to be, "Tay, magiging lolo ka na."

‘Tay tayo dyan!

"It’s 28 days before Christmas." I heard this over the radio while riding the bus this afternoon. Daaaaaaaaaamn. (I hit the "a" key ten times on purpose. Wala lang. Abno.) It’s Christmas already?!

The season of giving. Aaah.

These past few years, I’ve learned that sometimes you have to be generous even though you have nothing at all. But most importantly, there are times when you just need to be selfish even though you have plenty.

Nine years and a few months have passed and my son’s all grown-up. In three years he’ll be in high school already. Damn.

After he was born, I told myself that I will try my best to teach him everything that I believe can help him face this oh, so cruel world. Although some would say I’m not very much qualified for that, I believe that I’ve had lots of experiences which can be used as examples (bad ones in particular, hehehe). From that time on, I knew that I would be one hell of a paranoid parent — always thinking that something bad might happen to my son anytime or imagining almost every untoward incident that could possibly happen to him. They say it’s normal for parents to act that way and I agree. But some people (myself included) say that I’m being too anxious, paranoid and overacting. I usually ask them, "Why not?" Most of us have seen a freak accident or mishap before and the idea that it can happen to anyone at any given time flips me out.

But it’s not just about his physical safety that I’m worried about. I also don’t want my son to get hurt emotionally or mentally (although I admit that sometimes I am guilty of causing him this). I want him to be tough, to be a strong person, inside and out.

Let’s just say I think of my son as a bansoy (that’s bansot na punong-kahoy, the Filipino version of bonsai). Some say that plants turned into bansoys (or bonsais) are deprived of their natural growth and are not given the proper care they deserve — the leaves and roots are pruned, the branches are twisted and wired to achieve a certain form, and the plant is confined in a pot. But in reality, a bansoy requires more than what an ordinary plant needs, simply because of its condition. Bansoy pots come in a variety of shapes, depending upon the shape of the plant (quality pots are ceramic and are high-fired to withstand freezing temperatures). Re-potting is also advised every two years while in development and less often as they mature. Because of the limited space in a pot, bansoy care can be quite difficult. Shallow containers limit the root system making proper watering practically an art in itself. Soil moisture should be monitored daily and water given abundantly when needed. A bansoy requires more hours under the sunlight and most of them are not suited for indoor culture, otherwise they will die. And after years of one’s labor in creating a bansoy, the result will be a beautiful plant resembling a tree that has grown in nature. This is why I compare my son to a bansoy. He is not a typical child in a typical situation that requires typical attention.

It’s funny — I exert so much effort and try too hard in teaching him and preparing him for the real world when in fact the only way he can truly learn his lessons is to go through life itself. Whenever he looks at me, whenever he talks to me, I can see and hear that he is more than ready.

I guess I’m just not ready to let him go… I don’t think I’ll ever be.

Most of us have this habit of cussing. It really doesn’t matter if we’re pissed off or in high spirits, and yes, even when we’re engrossed in admiration — we cuss. It has become a part of our culture and it’s so difficult to remove it in our daily (and ordinary) conversations and expressions. I just find it amusing that whenever I am with my son, it seems that my mouth filters everything that I’m going to say. Even when we’re bobbing our heads to the music of Eminem, Greyhoundz or even Parokya Ni Edgar, I omit the cuss words almost unconciously. There was only one instance I remember saying the "S" word in front of him (I believe he was just five then). We were on our way to a pool party in Pansol that night and I was looking for a store where we can buy bottled water in those big plastic containers. I think I was driving a bit faster than the usual (20kph? hehehe) that I didn’t notice the store on our right. My son, who saw the water containers that were displayed, shouted, "Tatay, ayun!" And out of the blue I said, "Shit!" He then turned his head and stared at me. I don’t know where that came from but I told myself that I had to act fast. And so the next few syllables that went out of my mouth sounded like shit-zoo-za-ber-da-ber or something like that. Hahaha! Such a pathetic attempt to cover up my mental lapse. I guess I should have followed it up with "siritsit alibangbang" or "down, sit down, you’re rocking the boat" instead (but I’m sure it still wouldn’t work).

How come it is easier for me not to cuss in front of my son than keeping my mouth shut in front of other people? Maybe it’s because of the fact that he is my son and I have to be very careful with the words that he will hear from me. But there were lots of times when I really should’ve shut myself up and stopped talking in babbles or riddles to other people. And after an ohnosecond, I will realize that once again, I said something stupid.

We all know that John Mayer song that goes, "One more thing, why is it my fault? So maybe I try too hard. But it’s all because of this desire. I just wanna be liked. I just wanna be funny. Looks like the joke’s on me. Call me Captain Backfire."

Yes. I’m never speaking up again starting n…

Everybody dreads reaching the age of thirty— that rite of passage that marks the time that we are nearing expulsion from the Roman Calendar. We usually see it as a confirmation that we are indeed getting old. For most of us, it tells us that time is ticking. Wait, let me rephrase that: It tells us that our time is running out.

It’s funny how we will desperately cling to being twenty-nine until the very last minute. It is the last year of embracing youthful hopes and the first year of resigning to middle age. It doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor— whether you like it or not, you will get down and thirty. Hehehe.

Okay, getting old is a big deal but it is something inevitable so why make a fuss out of it? We usually tease older people about their age but we are aware that we are also getting old. A case of too-bad-they-got-there-first? Well, a few years from now, today’s little brats will start teasing you, too. Bah! At least I look younger than a lot of those in their early 20s thanks to my oily skin. Hahaha! So what is it about reaching thirty (or getting old in general)? I think it is because of the fact that getting old constantly (and harshly) reminds us of all the should haves, would haves and could haves. The ghost of the past, the bridge that didn’t burn, those skeletons still hanging in the closet— these are the things that hold us back, that make us cling. Let us all admit that if everything in our past turned out the way we wanted it to be then we will have no problem embracing the concept of getting old.

I am turning thirty a few hours from now and I’ve been asking myself the same questions these past few days. Have I done anything that I really wanted in the thirty years that have passed? Did I make more right decisions than the wrong ones? What am I going to do in the next thirty years?

A wise man once said, “Don’t count your years. Make your years count.”

Now if I can just do that… I believe I’ll be stuck at twenty-nine.

Wala akong ganang mag-blog nitong mga nakaraang buwan lalo na ngayon na blackout pa rin sa LB dahil sa bagyo (at hindi rin ako sanay mag-blog sa ibang PC). Minsan na rin lang ako nakakauwi ng San Pablo kaya naman gusto ko din talagang magliwaliw sa bayan. Pero anak ng tokwa, nakakadismaya ang mga pangyayari wala pang isang oras ang nakakalipas. Ako’y adwang-adwa.

Habang pinapa-carwash ko ang sasakyan, naisipan ko munang maglakadlakad sa bayan. Naghanap na rin ako ng internet cafe para magpalipas ng oras. Pagdaan ko sa tapat ng isang beerhouse, may nakita akong isang batang lalake na nasa loob ng isang nakaparadang jeepney at nagulat ako sa aking nasaksihan. Sigurado ako na wala pa siyang sampung taong gulang pero yung rugby na sinisinghot niya sa loob ng hawak niyang bote ay tiyak na nagkakahalaga ng lampas sampung piso. At habang sumisinghot siya ay may mga kalalakihan (wari ko mga tsuper) na abalang-abala sa paghuhuntahan sa tabihan mismo ng jeepney. Hindi ito ang unang pagkakataon na nakakita ako ng nagru-rugby dito sa amin pero hindi ko alam na ganito na pala katalamak ang gawaing ito sa lungsod namin. At tulad nung ginawa ko noong isang taon, nang may nasaksihan akong binata na sumisinghot rin ng rugby sa tabing kalsada, naisipan kung isumbong sa awtoridad ang aking nakita. Wala pang isandaang metro sa kinalalagyan nung batang adik, nakita ko ang barangay hall ng lugar na iyon kaya’t naisipan ko na doon na lang magsumbong. Pagpasok ko ng pinto, may dalawang lalaki, ang isa ay nag-mamakinilya at ang isa nama’y nanonood ng TV. Hindi ko malilimutan ang aming pag-uusap.

Ako: Sir, good afternoon po. May ire-report po kasi ako. May nakita akong bata, sumisinghot ng rugby doon sa kabilang kanto.

Unang Lalaki: Ah, talaga? Saan mo nakita?

Ako: Doon po sa tapat ng Patio, nasa loob siya ng jeep.

Pangalawang Lalaki: (Tumingin nang saglit sa akin tapos nanood uli ng TV)

Unang Lalaki: Naku, yung mga ganoon eh pinapabayaan na lang kasi kapag dinampot naman nang pulis eh pakakawalan rin naman. Wala rin kasing pagdadalhan ang mga yun.

Ako: Ganoon po ba? Nagulat po kasi ako dahil minsan lang akong umuwi dito sa atin tapos talamak na po pala dito ang rugby tapos sobrang bata pa po nila. Mahirap din naman po kasi kung pababayaan na lang natin. Malay po natin, baka paglaki nila sila ang papatay sa atin.

Pangalawang Lalaki: (Tumingin uli sa akin at mukhang nainis sa hirit ko tapos nanood uli siya ng TV)

Unang Lalaki: Oo nga, eh. Wag kang mag-alala at gagawan namin ng paraan.

Ako: Sige po, sir. Salamat po.

Napailing na lang ako paglabas ko ng barangay hall. Hindi ako mabuting mamamayan pero anak ng puta, mga opisyal sila ng barangay tapos parang hindi ganoon kaseryoso ang sitwasyon. Dapat malaman ito sa city hall, ng mga konsehal, ng mayor. Pero pupusta ako na alam na nila itong problemang ito at may mga nauna nang nagreklamo sa akin.

Hindi ko alam kung sino ang bangag: ang bata na nakita kong sumisinghot ng rugby o ang mga opisyal ng barangay at city hall?

Aba, wag na wag silang magugulat kung isang araw ay mabalitaan nila na ang isa sa mga anak nila ay nasaksak o nabaril ng isang adik.

I am now a certified SHOPaholic.

The customer is always… yeah, right.

The best of the west vs. the beast from the east.

A rose is a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.

Health or Skeletor.

Dis-Order, Family, Genus-ide.

Mini-Me.

Yes, I write both sins and tragedies.

Always so tiring,
serving home’s guests everyday
for twenty an hour.

If they only know
how damn difficult it is
to be in this desk.

It’s all sold and done
whether we like it or not.
Call the moving truck.

Being here is weird.
Not only does it kill me,
it keeps me alive.

Could it really be
that home is where the bart is?
Only time can tell.