So I Let Crazy Settle In

The cosmos doesn't like me very much this week. I knew I shouldn't have gone out last Sunday, but being one of the more emotionally blunt variants of the species, I wasn't able to restrain myself. Who would have thought such a slight misstep on a fleetingly silent, deceptively benign Sunday night can cause such turbulence in the sine waves of the rest of my week?

Fine, it might sound like I'm exaggerating and FINE, I might just be slightly misdirecting my anger but still. STILL. The week inches on and it's becoming harder and harder to deal with. As a matter of fact, random craziness have been crawling out of the woodwork making things even more... crazy. To wit:

[21:20] <miuccia> you bitch!
[21:20] <miuccia> leave my boyfriend alone!
[21:21] <RevenanT`> uhh... i think you got the wrong person
[21:22] <miuccia> no
[21:22] <miuccia> it's you!
[21:23] <RevenanT`> ooo~k, that's going to be weird
[21:23] <RevenanT`> cos i'm not seeing anyone
[21:23] <RevenanT`> much less anyone's boyfriend.
[21:23] <RevenanT`> lol
[21:24] <miuccia> you had sex with him
[21:24] <miuccia> why did you do that?
[21:24] <RevenanT`> hahahahahaah! omg
[21:24] <miuccia> ha podi
[21:24] <miuccia> why?
[21:24] <miuccia> you bitch
[21:25] <RevenanT`> listen, i haven't met up with anyone for months
[21:25] <RevenanT`> much less have sex with with anyone
[21:25] <RevenanT`> who are you anyway?

I've had it. No more gory details. No more trigger happy hate guns. No more talking without thinking first. No more crazy people accusing me of having sex with their boyfriends!

All About My Mother

My mother and I had a date tonight.

Well, the original plan was to get a new mobile phone for me but the model I wanted was out of stock wherever we went, so we just took it as a sign, gave up, and had dinner instead.

It's been a while since my mother and I went out together like that. The last time was when my brother took the UPCAT around a year ago and I went with them for... uhm... moral support I guess. (I honestly couldn't recall why. I remember we had to wake up 3AM, it was really cold and clammy, and commute all the way to Quezon City which was way too far from where we live... oh, maybe I really had nothing to do.)

Anyway, while my brother was taking the test, my mother and I were walking the wet grounds of UP, looking for a place to have breakfast. We found one after a while and upon sitting down, my mother immediately asked, "Ganun ba talaga si Rafael?" ("Is Rafael really like that?")

I pretended to be thinking about it real hard while staring at a wet orange spot on the table. "Alam mo, 'nay..." ("You know, mother...") I looked at her, eyes as black as deep voids.

"Kailangan pa bang i-memorize yan?"

I chuckled and wiped the orange spot clean. "Seriously, 'nay, I'm sorry pero ganun talaga si Rafael." ("Seriously mother, I'm sorry but Rafael is really that way.")

She looks like she's still not convinced, but the evidence was pretty obvious already. My brother is, as a friend put it, gayer than springtime. And as is my mother's habit, she reverted to more practical things when confronted with something as disconcerting and something she knew was beyond her control, and proceeded to order our food.

Tonight wasn't all too different from that day. On a fantastically spontaneous whim, we had dinner at a Chinese restaurant in Glorietta under the pretense of being one of the old-moneyed rich (and miserably failing, much to our amusement). But despite the variance in setting, my mother had the same diffident and cautious aura, the same tiptoed precision of words. And this time we didn't talk about my brother. Instead we talked about her.

She told me how much she was like me -- until she got married and had us.

She told me how she would make it appear as if she followed every rule, bent to every condition -- as long as it suited her.

When me and my siblings came into the picture, convenience was pushed further and further from sight until every angle, every groove, every jagged edge in my mother's rose-colored life was occupied by us, and she hasn't been the same since.

Maybe that's why she goes easier on me compared to my brother and sister. Maybe that's why sometimes I see familiar flickers when her eyes become idle and listless, or when she tells me not to appear too complacent with what I have.

I know what she means. She could have been me -- she could have been what I am now exactly. But she chose another path so I could be myself. And maybe when the time comes for me to change... maybe then she would feel complete. I hope I can give it to her.

Weird Sense Of Aestheticism

I'm still feeling bad you know. But for the record, I knew you were telling the truth when you told me your boss had you stay in the office until six. It's just that I didn't want to put up with any more excuses from anyone for being late. Even if it were true. It's happened a hell lot to me and a time has to come when I finally snap because of it. Besides, we can always tick it off as one of my off days.

Anyway that's already over and done with. I don't really want this to go on for a long time. Such things as these get a stale aftertaste if left untended. Let's just call it quits and say I'm stereotypically a guy for being stubborn and pig-headed; and I'm stereotypically a girl for being too whiny and pissy about what happened. And because of that, I owe you Ice Monster. Or coffee. Just please don't be late again. EVER. :-P

•••
In other news, I thought my Sunday wasn't going to shape up well when my boss called me up at noon and asked me to report for work overtime. On one hand I was so put off since I was planning on proofreading a friend's pet project, and maybe even doing some character sketches for it, for the rest of the day. But on the other hand, I knew how much help our program needs so I figured if they were calling people up, it means they really need work to be done. So I dropped whatever it was I was doing, took a bath, and ran to the office -- not before picking up my copy of Kafka on the Shore first tho. I thought it might come in handy to unwind after work.

And guess what? It did! Right after work I headed down to Greenbelt, hell bent on having a quiet, stress free Sunday night -- the kind of Sunday night I used to have way back in highschool. The kind where I didn't think about school the next day nor the weekend that just ended. Like a strange, off-tangent, fleeting, Haley's Comet kind of Sunday night. That was the one I want.

Thank the cosmos as soon as I got my tea and started to read, I knew that was the kind of Sunday night I was going to get. I don't know what tipped me off, really. Maybe it was because of Kafka Tamura, the hero from the book I was reading and whom I think I'm having a crush on. Or the boy named Crow. Maybe it was because of Nakata, or the cat he named Otsuka.

Or maybe it doesn't have anything to do with the book at all, but the evening itself. It was like sitting down on a soft, easy chair, and everything about the evening is meshing out real well. I didn't even notice two hours had already passed. If it weren't for my stomach letting me know I needed to feed, I wouldn't even have bothered noticing the time.

I committed to memory the page I was reading, closed the book, and went inside the mall. It was half past seven by my watch. When I checked the screening schedule for Harry Potter, I knew I had plenty of time to get dinner and get one more chapter down.

I bought a ticket for the 8:50 screening and started walking around again, looking for a place where I can get food I haven't had in a while. I ended up having dinner at Coffee Bean, ordering an OK serving of tomato and herb pasta, and orange juice to wash it down. It was a nice dish to dawdle on while reading without having to worry about hurrying up and making a mess. Before I knew it, I was done and it was already twenty minutes till the screening starts.

I walked in the theater preparing for hordes of tittering, whimpering little children to greet me, but surprisingly, there wasn't much people around. Only several groups of families keeping to themselves, some couples, and quite a number of old people quietly minding their own business. A neutral aura of "you don't bug me, I won't bug you" pervaded the large, dimly-lit hall, which I'm perfectly fine with. I easily found a seat near the aisle, almost close to the screen, and I was immediately comfortable.

I don't have much to say about the movie. I don't even want to begin comparing it with the book since I'm sure a lot of people have done that already. Suffice it to say the movie was fine. I doubt hard core fans would be pleased with it... but hey. Deal. It was pure action from start to end, I can't even recall a memorable dialogue, much less a line. Nevertheless it was a fine movie, and I'm glad I watched it.

I went home right after, almost midnight. I was thinking of calling up a friend over the phone, tell him all about my weekend but decided against it. I guess wanted to keep it a secret for at least a day more. I chuckled for no apparent reason and laid down on the bed.

The cosmos was smiling down on me when I went to sleep last night. :-)

Better Never Late

I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!!! Making me wait for thirty minutes when you had one hour to get from Shangri-La to Ayala is inexcusable! INEXCUSABLE!

You know that I don't have a mobile phone, but we made it clear we'd be meeting six o'clock at Figaro! Sure I can consider going over a few minutes. Maybe I can still say it's OK if you're late for fifteen. But thirty!? Thirty minutes, when you had from 5:15 to get yourself from Shangri-La to Ayala is NOT IMPOSSIBLE! Even if you say there were a lot of people and it was a massive black hole trying to get a ride on the first or even the second stop, you could still make it by 6, or 6:15! 6:20 even!

You may be thinking I live near and it's no big deal for me and yes maybe I'm exaggerating but I'm angry and guess what... IT IS A BIG DEAL! Just because I live near it doesn't mean it's OK to be late or, dear lord, not arrive at all!

OK, there can be other reasons why a person can be late: unavoidable circumstances, acts of God, and every other cosmic joke one can think of... but I don't give a rat's ass. All things considered, it's even worse when that person was the one who made the invitation.

I'm sorry. I can be very patient when it counts -- and even forgiving to a fault -- but I guess it gets to a point when I have to consider it being abusive. Patience is overrated. Most of the times I can see where one person is coming from, but I hope the other person can see where I'm coming from as well. Waiting is never a happy thing to be doing. Not for anything, not for anyone, and not for you.

And I hope next time, instead of thinking "better late than never," people should start considering it should be "better never late."

Just Wing It

Well the universe sure knows how to shut me up. Here I was practically fainting, barely able to hold my frustration any longer, when I opened my mailbox and saw this.

I ought to be happy, maybe bouncing around the room with unrestrained glee. But all I'm feeling is the dead end wall of a series of exhausting but pointless events. Apparently, life can't make up its mind whether to end my day bringing me down or cheering me on. In the end both sides cancelled out and all I managed was an anticlimactic blah.

Not wanting to sound ungrateful -- I'd rather my day end up like this than having it end with me in bed in a state of near catatonia. I guess all in all I'm just glad this day is over.

•••
Work was tough as hell, and I think I'm beginning to understand what management is feeling. If we don't perform well, the client might just pull out from the company. As a matter of fact, I think the client is tightening our leash and letting us dangle out onto the edge, what with all the work that's been happening. To say things are looking mighty tremulous is an understatement. We're not only in danger of losing our client, we might also be in danger of losing our jobs.

Sigh. All this worry and it's only been two weeks since I started working with the company! I admit, this was not part of my short term plan, being here, now. But since I'm already here, now, I might as well do what I do best. Wing it.

Silence Please: The Books Are Talking

I just got a copy of Kafka on the Shore! Oh.... I'm sorry, I'm still chasing words orbiting Jupiter, I have no idea what to say! I think I'll let Murakami-san do the talking for the meantime. :-)


'lotsa luck,' says the little kitty.

When Christmas Comes Early

Well that was a weird, if not somewhat pleasant, surprise.

I was playing Dofus, waiting for the slightest nudge of drowsiness to give me an excuse to sleep early. Oblivious to everything else except for the explosions of light on the screen, that was when my sister unceremoniously opened the door, stuck her arm in, and handed me a yellow, fresh-from-the-store plastic bag. "Pamasko ko na sa'yo yan," she mumbled. ("That's already my Christmas gift for you.")

I reached for the package without taking my eyes off the ensuing battle and grunted something monosyllabic to the door. I was in the middle of making three 15th level sheep explode in temporal dust so my brain kind of only half-registered what just happened. Maybe that's why I couldn't figure out if the faint Hallelujah at the base of my stomach was because of winning against said sheep or because I had a copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince in a plastic bag on my lap.

Suffice it to say I was quite stunned. This is the first gift I received from a sibling. EVER. I mean, I would remember if it happened before, but it hasn't, and this is the first time. Intimacy doesn't really have any bearing in our family. We're just... here. Any situation stepping on and beyond that line is already just a notch away from strange. Quite honestly, I don't think any of us would know how to react if any form of intimacy -- no matter how remote -- was shown!

So yes, I'm still stunned, but maybe I'm just thinking about it too much. Maybe I'm acting just like Prue, in that Charmed episode when they challenged her intimacy issues. Maybe I'm the only one who has intimacy issues in the family... and I don't even know it!

Or maybe I just need to start getting gifts.

Spreading The Love

I'm stealing this from The Tin Man, who stole this from Matt's World, who stole this from Life's A Trip, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I share this in my neck of the world. Some of them are culture specific, but the general thought is there. It's a riot. XD

Ten Reasons Why Gay Marriage Is Wrong
1) Being gay is not natural. Real Americans always reject unnatural things like eyeglasses, polyester, and air conditioning.

2) Gay marriage will encourage people to be gay, in the same way that hanging around tall people will make you tall.

3) Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because a dog has legal standing and can sign a marriage contract.

4) Straight marriage has been around a long time and hasn't changed at all; women are still property, blacks still can’t marry whites, and divorce is still illegal.

5) Straight marriage will be less meaningful if gay marriage were allowed; the sanctity of Britney Spears' 55-hour just-for-fun marriage would be destroyed.

6) Straight marriages are valid because they produce children. Gay couples, infertile couples, and old people shouldn't be allowed to marry because our orphanages aren’t full yet, and the world needs more children.

7) Obviously gay parents will raise gay children, since straight parents only raise straight children.

8) Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That's why we have only one religion in America.

9) Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home. That’s why we as a society expressly forbid single parents to raise children.

10) Gay marriage will change the foundation of society; we could never adapt to new social norms. Just like we haven’t adapted to cars, the service-sector economy, or longer life spans.

Life: According To My Hair

The various states of disarray my hair takes on at the end of the day is usually the barometer for my emotional state at that time. Right now, my hair looks like someone ignited it with a torch and then hastily put it out with a large blanket, leaving a mass of smoking charred frizz in its wake. Imagine how dandy I must be feeling inside.

I know I'm just into the fourth day of my job, but I'm already feeling the crunch. I've even gotten into the habit of talking to myself in just a span of one week! "Podi, shut yer yap and be patient," or "Podi, try not to compare this job with your previous job," or "Podi, you can't please everyone," or "Podi, YOU'RE DOING IT AGAIN!"

It doesn't help that management expects a lot, and by a lot I mean a LOT of hours overtime, being part of the pioneer batch. A chunk of the client's decision to remain doing business with the company is dependent on our performance. Bottomline: I can't slack, and I can't stress out. Not now.

That's why tomorrow, I have decided less shampoo, more conditioner. And possibly hair wax.

Stepping Inside

It's an odd sensation -- a little less disconcerting, a lot more nostalgic -- stepping inside a dark room and feeling a door close behind you. The rush of air and noise from outside being shut out by an abrupt and final thud of wood on wood. Nothing stirs, as if no form or matter exists. Just you and your breathing, and if you listen close enough, your heart beating solidly against the dark.

Thoughts creep unbidden of what you will see when the lights fire up. You look around in vain, preparing for the impending glare of lights, all at once brilliant and terrible and painful to the eyes.

You are restless, weary, and impatient but you do not move. And your senses may be heightened but you are emotionally indifferent. Somehow you know, when you see what you need to see inside the cold, dark room, emotions would be mere trifle, and ultimately inconsequential. Because inside the room it doesn't matter what you feel. There is either complete acceptance of the light, or complete rejection. Face reality, or remain in the dark. Absolute truth, or absolute fiction.

It's no secret that, if given the choice, I would rather remain in fiction; in the comfort of my dark, truth-free fantasy. But I promised myself no more fighting. Let the cosmos have its way with me. My will is illusion, and now, so is the world outside this room.

So my life is once again another waiting shed until a new version of the truth comes around. That's nothing new.