To my Ninang Raquel…

For the kindest, coolest, sweetest, smartest, most generous, most beautiful, and most loved ninang in the whole wide world, happy happy birthday. I love you!

Love,

Your sipsip but honest inaanak

May 1 Post

In our product training, we usually start our class by surfing into the internet and documenting some lessons that we’ll be tackling for the day.  But yesterday was different.  We started it with a discussion about May 1.  We needed to plan things out as we are in the last days of our product training and each date is significant to us.  Some of my wavemates had still not heard the news that May 1 celebration is not going to be moved to a Friday or a Monday.  They were asking questions, I was participating too but had suddenly drifted for a while.

 
If I remember it right, it was the night of May 1 of last year when a guy told me that he thinks “it will be easier for us if we break up.”  Right.  Lame line, but right.  I was not shocked at all with his request.  Maybe it was really what we needed and all along, I was just waiting for him to say that.

I answered him, “Okay.” And there were no other words uttered to further or prop our assumptions.  His short line and mine seemed enough to make everything all right.  True enough, everything was, because I killed him.  Time of death: 9:55pm, I remember the call in my head.

He had to be killed—for at least a month.  I needed to consider him dead for me to swiftly move on.  No bitterness at all in between us, I just thought we needed to detoxify each other from our respective systems.  Three years is three years anyway.

But then again, if I really do remember it right, it was two weeks later than May 1 when that guy told me that he was so stupid having said such line.  Yes, he was foolish indeed.  He was foolish to not recall that I don’t have a third eye and in no way I would like to open one.  I have never seen unnatural things around me such as ghosts like him, even if they seek for clairvoyants’ help.  And it’s a fact that just the thought of ghosts scares the hell out of me; he should have known that.

 
After minutes of drifting away from the discussion, I just realized that it’s roughly been a year since my last amorous episode ended.  I’m currently unattached and I honestly didn’t think I would be doing this good.  Few more minutes passed, I heard our class finally scheduled the non-working holiday on the date of Labor Day itself.  After everything was settled, another odd thought grasped my mind: May 1, people around me mark it as Labor Day…  With me, I mark it as Independence Day.

My mind celebrates summertime.

 Lots of flaccid thoughts were on my head for the last few days.  Notions come and go, from out of nowhere to out of nowhere; can’t seem to stop any of them.  Just like a series of waves [formed from wherever] rushing to the shore, tyrannizing over the large part surface of the sea, only to disappear in sand just when each hits the end part that is the beach.  

I don’t know how to stop myself blowing waves of thoughts in my sea of mind.  I am not feeling bad or anything like that though, let me clear that.  But just like one wave stuns the peacefulness of the entire sea, thinking a lot lately about life and everything in it makes me feel exhausted and weary somehow.  I wish I could just write it all down, similar to other shallow things I have written in here.  Oh damn, I might need a distraction from all these distractions.

I Think I’m In Love…

When my anti-vampire morning shift for the second part of our training had started last monday, I just suddenly lost my energy to do anything at home.  It was like television, internet, and food were highlighted in my sytem and were CTRLed+ALTed+DELETEd to the recycle bin of nothingness.  Don’t ask why, because I also have no idea.  But since I saw my mom’s laptop on the table a few minutes ago, "un-occupied" (finally) by her, I took some time to browse some of my and my friends’ pages.  When I was done checking my sites, I got to May’s blogger and read her latest entry.  I then played the video there (same one I posted on top of this entry) and minutes later I found myself comfortable under a blanket of admiration for David Cook.  Whew!  That was one hell of a Mariah song, David!  Genius, genius performance and arrangement, honey!  I so love you for that!

Regret, regret.

I was reeking pressure from my 8-hour work training when I heard my dad ask me, “Gusto mo subukan i-drive ito?”  Pertaining to our vehicle we used that Friday night.  What?  Me?  Will drive??  But then… “Madali lang ba pag ‘matic? … Sige,try,” I immediately heard myself utter in response.

 
Never dared myself to even imagine being on the driver’s seat, much more wished myself to be on the driver’s seat.  I was just never like any other kids who drool on learning how to drive just so they could stow their parents’ car away and show off their skills to their friends.  Driving was just simply not on my to-do list.

 
I braced myself as I got a hold of the steers for the first time ever, then I felt my foot gradually forcing down weight on the pedal.  I can’t believe I made our ride move [safely] from point A to point B (in which the distance in between I can’t really tell because I am not an accurate estimator of lengths and distances.)  Driving is not as hard as I thought it would be!  It’s actually even harder to pick your nose in public than drive an automatic car.  I wish I have gotten a student’s license before I started being busy.   Regret, regret.

Love is Blind.

I could still remember, in an extreme degree, how confident I was filling up the line beside “What is love?” with those words in my friends’ slum books when we were in our elementary years .  I have always known it’s the best answer to write.  Love… is… blind.  Simple and short.  However, although I used to write that line, I didn’t realize then that I was as ignorant on its real implications as I am today on integrals and derivations in calculus topics.

Today, I believe I am able to comprehend that line. 

I look around me and I see love—a lot of it.  Why is it blind?  Most of the love around me is caught in complicated situations, which the couples involve cannot brush off easily from their relationship no matter how equipped they are with strong adoration and respect for each other—but still, they choose to hold on to the promise they offered each other.  These complicated situations make the love theory I used to write in slum books more meaningful in my thoughts.  Yeah, love is truly blind!

Just like with the person I know who gives somebody the chance to take care of her, not minding the fear of possible hurt due the fact that he has a reputation of being a “player” to so many girls in the past.  Just like with the person I know who still desperately loves his guy even after he had broken her heart for more than four times now.  Just like the person I know who was cheated by his girl and still continues to feel the exact same love for her overtime amidst the male-ego-hurt obstruction.  Just like with the person I know who entered into a relationship even if it is an objectionable one for his loved ones, because they did not expect him to fall for a person of the same sex.  Just like with the person I know who jumped into the stage that resembles forever with his guy; they are cloaking it with a normal steady-date relationship, because her parents will just not allow her to marry at such a young age.  And the list goes on.

In these given situations, love does not mind complications because love just would not see complications.  Love can make people traverse North Luzon Expressway blindfolded at night, without feeling much tenseness and apprehension just to get ahold of the person they feel so much affection for across.  They love.  They risk.  And yes, probably they are blinded, but who can say that their context of the emotion is idiotic and wrong?  I dare you.

Thinking about it now, slum books may not be as saleable and appreciated today as it was in my juvenile stage.  But if I were going to fill up some pages again, I would still write the same boring passé thing next to “What is love?”—Hell, love is blind!  But this time, I know that it states a lot more than just its literal outmoded phrase I never understood before.

Bye Bye Ramiele.

Was not able to catch the live performances of AI top9 the other day, even replayed ones on star world, because I was working on myself so that I would become a stellar person a.k.a. I was in training.  It sucks to miss Malubay’s last week; but it’s not like I am dying right now because I didn’t see it, it’s not that vital.  Just wish I saw it.  Maybe I’ll get over it once AI fanatics upload videos of this week’s performances.  (Come on people, upload… upload… upload!  Someone here’s hungrily waiting for those!) 

I assume most of us are suffering in the defeat of Malubay; she’s a true-blooded Filipino, and, she’s one hell of a singer.  It would have been sensational if she stayed and became the first Asian-American Idol.  But then again, will Americans permit any Asian-American to win one of the USA’s grand titles?  …So, I think it was okay to say bye-bye to Malubay this early, after all, than witnessing the show sucking up all Filipinos-in-the-States’ money on phone votes, and then kicking her out just before the finale sets in.  Oh well.

 
On the other side of the planet, have been seeing Pinoy Idol’s enormous billboard on EDSA these past few nights.  Maybe I’ll just wait for that on GMA7 for other true-blooded, one-hell-of-a-singer Filipinos.  Wait, isn’t that Jolina at the panel, on the ad??  Oh eff.  Please tell me they’re not serious.