Are you there?

December 22, 2021.

My fortieth Christmas is creeping up and I feel like I’m headed for an inevitable midlife crisis. Fortunately, a guy in my position, consumed day and night by his job, doesn’t have the time to go screw up his personal life by buying a Ferrari or by cheating on his wife with unrelenting physical pleasure from new-age virtual technology to incapacitate the user for a week after kind-of-coitus, or KOC.

I look at my wife and I can see the circles around her eyes from all the preparations building up to Christmas day – from carefully planning the Noche Buena menu to the last-minute panic shopping and decorations. Both my kids cannot be contained from the anticipation of opening their gifts – they bug you every second if they can just take a peek. As I sat there watching them with saddened eyes, I reminisced when this all started.

It was eighteen years ago, a week before Christmas to be exact. I just passed training for my very first job. I couldn’t remember anymore who made the call. My father just passed away. It was more of a shock than anything else. I cannot remember if I even cried. Maybe it’s just that it hasn’t sunk in yet. I just stared at blank space. At that time, my mother is battling cancer and undergoing chemo (she died 6 months later). So I was like, “What’s happening?” You know what I mean? How could I celebrate when all these tragedies were all of a sudden have decided to just converge on one occasion; this one occasion that I have always been looking forward to; this one occasion when I can see my family as a whole?

So from then on, Christmas was not for me to celebrate. I am that jaded. I leave the celebrating to those that are truly happy; to those who have someone to celebrate it with; to those who can still spend the holidays with their loved ones - opening gifts, singing carols, laughing and having meals on Christmas Eve. Someday I wish I can find my own. Someday I hope and pray to God to lift this veil of suffering from me. Someday…And until then this will be my silent protest.

My little daughter was tugging at my shirt sleeve and looking at me with her doe eyes. Her brother is watching her mom make the shopping list while he sits on her lap. I snapped out of my reverie and ruffled my daughter’s hair to which she responded with an exasperated look.
From then on, I decided I no longer need to wait for another Christmas. I am already there. This is my happy ending.




I commented:

“Your posts always make me cry. Maybe because it touches what I feel, too. Or just maybe, we haven't really talked about this after pop and mom died. We both have caged ourselves. Afraid to disclose any emotions. We have always expressed ourselves in the safe zone -- our prose.”



The above prose was written by my brother. Posted in his site. I have always admired how he arranges his words to a meaningful, sentimental whole. The more I admire him now for being so strong. What he has written is not fiction. My father died of heart attack – slept and never woke up – in December 12, 2003, barely few days before Christmas and a few days after our mother underwent her fourth chemotherapy session. And yes, six months before she succumb to cancer. More painful to say, our mother died in June 12, 2004, a day before my brother’s birthday. Two major occasions where he has to celebrate – we have to celebrate, yet, two major deaths – that of our parents’ precede the events.

“Hats off, dear brother! I admire your strength.”

My brother now lives with a few flatmates in Makati. No family yet. No love-life I guess. I just pray to God that soon… indeed he would find that wife he is referring to in his prose and will have kids to bring him back to that feeling of looking forward to celebrating Christmas and his birthday. “I love you bro! Merry Christmas!”

Fulfillingness' First Finale

There is a time in every man’s life where he must face that moment of truth. A time when that gut feeling meets reality and opportunity. Conventional wisdom, common sense, deductive reasoning and logic mean nothing here. Sometimes this moment of truth has nothing to do with doing the right thing: a decision must be made. A general effective decision on life. Your life. Every man at one point in his life will meet this moment. It is our right to passage. It is also an often soul-searching, empty moment in our lives. Definition comes with our decision at this moment, yet it does not define who we are. Life, I assure you, is not always fair.

We all go through phases where we feel we are most down. There is a moment when you get home from work, you stare blankly at your stale food, all alone… the television, your only companion. You wonder what you’re here for. You wonder why you are experiencing such feelings. You wonder what, in the grand scheme of things, is your purpose. Then it will be a long, arduous battle to find those answers. Bad news is, and this is the truth, you will never find your answers until you’re old. Or if you are really out of luck, never at all. So you go find a Paulo Coelho book and hope against hope he can save you and provide you with an idiot’s guide on this little sojourn called life.

As you try to walk your own path, you realize you have to start off following someone else’s footsteps. Baby steps first, like they say. You get sparingly to the point where there’s no turning back. Your back to the wall and you don’t trust even yourself to get your life out of that doldrums. It is a foxhole. A quicksand in a foxhole, if ever that was possible. A quicksand in a foxhole right smack in the Bermuda triangle. No way out. So let’s see here.

No one needs a hand more than those who are falling – or being pushed – off a cliff. Hugs are so ethnic now but they’re all you need. It is amazing how a touch from another human being makes you feel… so human. It makes you feel vulnerable and you feel you’re not all alone. This is all you need to get out of this moment of self-actualization. Not that you like it; it’s not like you’ve got a choice to be in that kind of situation. Like I said earlier, it is our right to passage. It is your moment to find the truth of what your life brings. Answer or no answer.

A single vibration put me out of my reverie. I still catch myself staring at the untouched food on the table, stale smell reeking of hopelessness. An apt reflection of this moment. I reach out for my phone and read: “You busy Saturday?”

Maybe.



Again, from my brother’s blog.

I was thinking of a topic for today’s post, but my Zafra-sitis got in the way. Yeah, I just started reading Twisted 7 at exactly 4:00 pm today hoping that I would be able to pick up an idea or two of just what to write, but the negative Zafra vibrations hit me instead – got nothing good to say. (Peace, Jessica!)

So I opened my brother’s Multiply site… read through his blogs and got this fresh from his site. Sure thing it started off with negativism, too. But thank God before Mom died, she gave her best shot of motherhood that frustrating experiences come in fancy-colored wraps as we see them.

Reflections! It’s good we have them.

Life can sometimes be so lonely. People are so busy loving the things they own and using people to gain these things. People have forgotten to love other people instead and using things for their lone purpose of being just things to be used for a particular purpose.

Hugs.

Warm embrace.

A tap on the shoulder.

A smile.

Or just a loving stare.

All these have been so remote nowadays when all you need is just a single step. To others, it might be a daring step… maybe at first, but if you get used to it, it will be just as normal and voluntary as you breathe.

Try it.

Who knows? You might just save someone else’s lonely life… as you work on your own.

Brawling for Dinner

Three slices of cold pizza and a bottle of Coke adorn my dining table like a feast on New Year’s Eve. Only it’s not New Year’s eve and more importantly it is not a feast. Far from it. I need to lose weight but this is not really the reason for the so-called feast that awaits. Although the slices were Hawaiian, it is not exactly Cobb Salad but I digress.

I can be a rather morbid person. I’m not exactly sure when or how I developed this character trait, but I’m predisposed to indulging in almost all that is unpleasant. This wasn’t with any sense of amusement, just a rational conclusion. So I push the first slice inside my mouth. It was a rather stale taste as I was suffering from a mild cold at that time so my taste buds prefer to take a leave of absence. I tried chewing but it was just a chore. I tried to drown it with Coke that I drank straight from the bottle. I puked a little but still tried to swallow. Only the jalapeños has a strong savor but it tasted like paper cup. I picked up the lone bacon that dropped to the floor. I contemplated to either eat it or just chuck it. Wala pang five minutes.

I could give up right now and die. Whoever finds my body could leave it right where it lies. I could have sworn I saw my whole life flash in front of me. But I struggled. I fight for those who don’t have anything to eat at all. Some don’t eat because they don’t want to or they wanted to lose weight but there are still the majority who don’t because they have no choice. I fight for those people. I fight for those who are rummaging the garbage cans for a thrown out piece of bread or a trace of meat off a T-bone. I scrap and claw for those kids with blackened skin from sunburn or from grease and dirt because of their everyday search for a living so that at the end of the day they have something to put inside their aching bellies and have energy for another day of scrapping and clawing all over again. I pronounce battle against malnutrition and the continuous price hike for a can of sardines and a pack of pancit canton.

But this was the real world, where the fun was supposed to stop. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that I have to grieve the inevitable. No one here gets out alive. Some of us just need to be reminded of that from time to time.

Leftovers, anyone?

P.S. Yamoj, pahiram ng post mo ha. Love this one kasi. By now, I know that you’re aware of this inevitable fact: “I’m your no. 1 fan!” (I guess Mom and Pop left me without a choice but to patronize that one family they gave me — YOU. “Peace brother!”)

Twilight

Category: Books
Genre: Science Fiction & Fantasy
Author: Stephenie Meyer

“Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van, and that you’ve been interfering with fate?” I speculated, distracting myself.

“That wasn’t the first time,” he said, and his voice was hard to hear. I stared at him in amazement, but he was looking down. “Your number was up the first time I met you.”

Twilight is a love story more than anything else. You probably have heard many stories of love and what makes them great. So what really makes a great love story? Well, first off, there has to be a struggle from both parties getting together; a great barrier. The Capulet and Montague family feud of Romeo and Juliet; rich girl Allie Hamilton meets local town boy Noah Calhoun from The Notebook. You get the picture.

So Edward Cullen is a sophisticated, god-like vamp and Bella Swan is the clumsiest, most ordinary small town girl you have ever met. Nothing more contrasting than that.

Spoiler alert!

So their story began when Bella moved from wide and sunny Arizona to a rainy, small town called Forks, Washington. Here she meets Edward, so their romance begins. Blah, blah, blah, yada, yada, yada. I will not describe to you in detail how their excruciating love story bloomed. The book is marketed at Young Adult readers so there’s a ton, and I mean ton, of cutesy, cheesy and all that corny stuff and dialogues, you have grown to love/hate from the days of Dawson’s Creek.

Now here are some chinks in the proverbial armor: I would have liked to know more about the history of the Cullens. I expect that their story would later on develop on the next few installments of the book. I haven’t read New Moon yet, the book’s sequel. So I would like to unravel some of the missing mysteries of the Cullen family.

I was also disappointed that the writer omitted the scene from the ballet studio. I will have to wait for the movie to see it. I saw some action scenes from the movie trailers that was obviously lacking from the book. The story is told in a first person perspective of Bella, so that’s why we only have to read what she knows. When she passes out, we also pass out, that’s how it is.

What I like about Twilight is it’s simple and so easy to read despite the 400 plus pages. I finished the book in only 14 hours. Of course, those were 14 hours spread out in 3 weeks. I just didn’t have time to really read. The small town of Forks was described that’ll leave you feeling like you can almost smell the damp air and hear the rain falling on the roof - like you’re almost there. The characters are almost realistic and not fictional like your next-door neighbors.

Overall, I have mixed feelings for this book. I just hope the coming movie adaptation will not disappoint and will bail out where the book came short. The romance between Edward and Bella will leave you to decide if their story is either touching and compelling or jaded and trite. Whichever side you choose, you’ll find this an appealing story you would want to crave for more.

Well, that was my brother's review for the book. So manly. Objective if you may judge. For me, maybe more emotional and yes... subjective -- every inch a woman's feeling touched by Edward and Bella's love story. Yeah, if my brother should have the chance to read this, he might just laugh it out.

"Gosh! I was holding my breathe each time Edward and Bella share that moment together, especially in that forest where they have to kiss -- Bella carried with her human need and Edward moving away each time for fear to crash her fragile Bella."

"Aaaaww!!!", was my brother's short reply.

Surely, this book is worth the grab. I was able to finish it in 10 hours within two days. The 2nd day inside the bus from Manila to La Union.

Real nice, eh!