Here's to another year of adventure!
Happy new [obcomfreaky] year everyone!
...GOD BLESS...
I have smelled it in the air, the pungent circumstances surrounding my ancestry, the moment I called my mom to announce my scheduled visit after a year of not seeing my family. Lord knows it took more than courage for me to go back and see my hometown, my old friends, and pieces of my life I chose to leave behind.
The place I called home appears the same, with its filthy streets and confusing transportation routes. Yet, God bless the legislators, it now looks like the city it once bragged to be, and the people…don’t even get me started on them. Certain things remain unchanged. Even those who I thought would move mountains have fallen of their lives’ cliff, and those who promised to excel had deteriorated, the rust of yester years eating up their existence from the inside.
Christmas seems to be the perfect excuse to once again venture out into my nightmare zone, to face those I swore to never get associated with, and to endure the various personalities of those I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to establish any kind of relationship with. But the holiday season that was supposed to lift my spirits up had me wishing I were somewhere else instead of solely bearing witness to the tireless family feuds and repetitious land title spats that usually end up in more trite discussions on sibling rivalry issues.
As much as I refuse to participate in this overrated domestic debate, I can’t help but capture the worst snapshots of the worst moments: of my mother ranting about my grandmother’s stubbornness, of my brother’s adorable yet insulting gibe, of my grandmother praising her three favorite children out of the 17 offspring she bore, of my Filipino relatives treating us differently because were “half-blood”, or the Chinese kin who never bothered calling because we don’t have pure Oriental blood flowing in our veins, of my father who is the object of both my affection and disappointment…
I thought I had made peace with this part of my life, the part that, I admit, I am painfully annoyed and ashamed of. I thought I had understood how my family worked, how my parents kept all the delicate secrets and spilled only those they wanted us to hear. I thought I could be satisfied with the small talks and occasional phone conversations, and the meaningless greetings that do not even account for the real feelings lurking underneath.
I wish I could tell them I’d walk through fire for them, but I know they’ll never be aware of the battles I go through everyday and of the fact that they are both my strength and weakness. I wish they’d welcome my questions but I’m sure they aren’t ready to give me their answers.
I don’t deny wishing of having been born to a less complicated, less extreme household where family members easily express and open up to each other, where relatives gather not to open fire but to bond over happy days, where misunderstandings are efficiently resolved.
Sometimes I think of cutting out the branches that links me to our small but complex family tree so that I won’t have to feel obliged to listen to my mom’s tirade, live out my dad’s too specific yet too high expectations, or engage in endless exasperating trash talks with my brother. But then again, I know I won’t be able to live without them, and it irritates me so much how they could make or break me.
As I write this, one of them is indifferently watching the holidays go by. I haven’t seen him for over a year now and all I have is a distant memory of him doing what he thought was best for me. I offer him nothing but love, hoping that he too was thinking of me praying in my old bedroom, in the sanctuary that once held the best-kept treasures of the past.
It's not a silly little moment
It's not the storm before the calm
This is the deep and dyin breath of
This love we've been workin on
Can't seem to hold you like I want to
So I can feel you in my arms
Nobody's gonna come and save you
We pulled too many false alarms
We're goin down
And you can see it too
We're goin down
And you know that we're doomed
My dear
We're slow dancing in a burnin room
I was the one you always dreamed of
You were the one I tried to draw
How dare you say it's nothing to me
Baby, you're the only light I ever saw
I'll make the most of all the sadness
You'll be a bitch because you can
You try to hit me just hurt me
So you leave me feeling dirty
Because you can't understand
We're goin down
And you can see it too
We're goin down
And you know that we're doomed
My dear
We're slow dancing in a burnin' room
I almost didn't notice the brief disturbing chills that ran up my spine while skimming through my high school batchmates' Friendster profiles.Was it nostalgia? It was indeed a long time ago. I suddenly recalled our graduation ceremony, complete with tears and hugs, almost five years ago. Just thinking about it made me shiver. 
There were those who clearly stood the test of time and continued to look as if high school hadn't passed. Some undeniably evolved judging by the changes in wardrobe and yes, the mature expressions etched on their faces. Back in high school, I dreaded my twenty something years, a time I once thought was old and scary.
I drew a picture of a high school version of myself, always caught in a web of fantasies, always talking of owning business empires rivaling that of Gokongwei's or Henry Sy's. I dreamed of owning magnificent mansions and fancy hotels, of founding lavish hotels and chic department stores. Such visions propelled my 16-year-old enthusiasm and made looking forward to sitting in plush leather chairs a breeze.
Year passed and my day dreaming surely went on. But then, I started trading my girlie uniforms for real life wardrobe and learned to plan. My visions transformed into a definite, realistic blueprint and my talks became serious discussions of attainable goals, and the castles I now tried to build are of rock - pure, solid, and measurable.
College changed me in ways unimaginable to my high school batchmates but justifiable to my family (hmm, if they knew better). I learned to swallow the big ego that I harbored for so long and accepted that anybody - young or old - could always beat me at my own game anytime. I was humbled, if not intimidated, and realized that people don't give a damn about my angst and personal issues. I could curse the world for giving me shit but the people around me, even those I call my friends, won't always be there to save me.
As some of my batchmates work their way to the top management of several companies, I remain hopeful for my anticipated graduation, praying that I pass the remaining 18 units with flying colors, or at least, just pass. Rubby's already a CPA and Joe's job in Arizona seems to be stable, Cheryl's adjusting well in Florida while Glim and Matt are making ends meet in Cebu. The rest are probably in Manila, Davao, and wherever God placed them, taking whatever board exams they're preparing for, reaping the benefits of their first jobs, or simply enjoying the company of their new families.
How I happened to click on my high school friends' profiles was nothing short of a puzzle but I'm glad I did it anyway.
Year passed and my day dreaming surely went on. But then, I started trading my girlie uniforms for real life wardrobe and learned to plan. My visions transformed into a definite, realistic blueprint and my talks became serious discussions of attainable goals, and the castles I now tried to build are of rock - pure, solid, and measurable.
College changed me in ways unimaginable to my high school batchmates but justifiable to my family (hmm, if they knew better). I learned to swallow the big ego that I harbored for so long and accepted that anybody - young or old - could always beat me at my own game anytime. I was humbled, if not intimidated, and realized that people don't give a damn about my angst and personal issues. I could curse the world for giving me shit but the people around me, even those I call my friends, won't always be there to save me.
As some of my batchmates work their way to the top management of several companies, I remain hopeful for my anticipated graduation, praying that I pass the remaining 18 units with flying colors, or at least, just pass. Rubby's already a CPA and Joe's job in Arizona seems to be stable, Cheryl's adjusting well in Florida while Glim and Matt are making ends meet in Cebu. The rest are probably in Manila, Davao, and wherever God placed them, taking whatever board exams they're preparing for, reaping the benefits of their first jobs, or simply enjoying the company of their new families.
How I happened to click on my high school friends' profiles was nothing short of a puzzle but I'm glad I did it anyway.
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