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Thursday, June 30, 2011

Meeting Mom: Intermission

All: Piktyur! Piktyur!

(Photographer points cam)

Me: *POUTS*

Mom: sternly shouts, "DON'T DO THAT!"

Me: *disappointed smile*

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My mom doesn't like my pout. How hurtful is that?! haha!

In anycase, I'm still in the process of writing my update on meeting mom. My thoughts are still quite a mess and my first few days, I got a bit emotional, so that's why I still cannot give out updates.

Aryt, down to business: My birthday is coming up and a friend commented how hard it is to find me a gift and requested I give out a wishlist. So here are some tips in giving me gifts (ANG KAPAL KAPAL KO LANG NO?)

1. Mababaw lang ako. I appreciate practially anything given to me.
2. I like impractical stuff. The weirder the better. Hard to find things would be great.
3. But kung ayaw mo mag isip ng regalo, here is my list:

a. cool wallet
b. tazmanian devil car accessory: steering wheel cover etc.
c. gimik small backpack (hindi ung pang Dora the explorer)
d. hamburger mini speakers (blue chrome finish, or black or red matted finish)
e. boy's cap (basta ang hirap explain)
f. pacute pokpok shirt. basta din.
g. basta be creative.

Ayan. Pag nahirapan pa kayo ewan ko nalang. hahahaha!

Sa mga may birthday sa July dyan, wala ba kayong wishlist? nahihirapan ako magisip eh (calling on geek, ewik, odin, jepoy, etc. sino pa ba?)

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Meeting mom day minus one (-1)

My brother texted a few hours back that they’re already boarding Delta. So yeah, I guess I’m counting down till their plane lands on Manila grounds.

A month ago, my lola requested me to help out in fixing the room that my mom will use in Bauan, Batangas. Thus, for weeks, I’d drop by every Sunday to oversee some cleaning and paintjob.

Nearing her scheduled flight, I had to somehow fix my own schedule since I am in between travels as well. Thus from Cebu, I’d be arriving back in Manila at 8:00 pm. My mom will arrive at 10:00 pm.

I’ve already hired a driver since I’m guessing I won’t be able to drive all the way to Batangas at almost midnight. I don’t want to drag other people to my accident prone self.


Do I feel excited? I dunno.
Do I feel scared? Definitely not.

I actually feel nothing. Inured. Calloused. I really have no adjective.

It’s just like another toxic month for me - filling in my calendar with family obligations, out of town meetings, paper works and stolen sleep in between.

But considering how much of a cry baby I can get, I’m readying myself for some major drama moment in the airport.

Damn you telenovelas for your exaggerated/ theatrical influence!

Thus, tomorrow marks my first meet up with my mom. Like some corny EB, we’d probably have a few hours of awkward moments. A hug here and there, but based from our phone conversations, there could be a lot of dead air.
Oh well papel. Wish me luck.

P.S.
I’ve heard Terminal 1 doesn’t have those Letters in the arrival drive way anymore? No more of those standing on the first letter of your last name thing? talga?

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Assuring dad


You were giving my car a complete wash the other day. I watched your face as you wiped off the excess water on the windshield with your chamois yellow cloth.



Somehow, at 53, you still managed to look like you’re 40. Maybe it’s your outlook in life. Or maybe it’s your constant smile. There’s not a single strand of white hair on your head, yet I have lots. Undoubtedly you’re one of the gentlest of souls I’ve met in my entire life.

I am able to love simply because you taught me how.


I am able to forgive simply because you reminded me not to let anger cloud my judgement towards someone.


I remember when I was seven. You were trying to teach me a lesson about mom. At 7, people made me understand that mom left us choosing her love for her career over her love for us. But you constantly told me, “do not plant anger in your heart. It will grow a very ugly tree. And it will never bear fruit.”


You understood what happened between the two of you, and admitted that if only someone gave you both sound advise, you would probably still be together. You understood simply because you were able to place yourself in her shoes. You were able to see both sides of the coin.


But amidst your wisdom on loving, I knew that you feared a lot of things: that I’d choose her over you or that I’d run towards her one day and leave you alone to die old. When she came back to bring me to the US, you fought hard not to let me go. You were ready to shed blood just to fight that I may stay. I knew you to be a jealous dad. You’re selfish of attention, as I am towards you.


You feared of losing me.


All these years, you’ve never negated any of my decisions. I can go in and out of the house without a single fuss even as a kid. It was your way of apologizing for feeling quite helpless as I struggle to keep scholarships. And now, it was your way of thanking me for supporting my half brothers’ schooling.


I’ve always wanted to hear you say no when I wanted to do something. But you’d always say that you trust me to be responsible. But I see it in your eyes how you wanted to say no. Your fear of me getting hurt. Your fear of me not being able to go back home to you.


The same look I saw when I told you I was to see my mom this Wednesday at the airport. I was to see her after twenty years.


I saw your facial muscles tense up, helplessly trying not to be transparent.


I knew you were going to be jealous.


Don’t be.


Because a child knows the hand that raised him.


A child will always be thankful for his father’s guiding hand, the hand that fed him, the hand that lovingly disciplined him, the hand that patted him on the back, the hand that pulled him to a warm embrace.


I know your sacrifices, your battles, your hardships and of your ability to love. Nothing would be able to make me forget all those things. No amount in this world would make me ungrateful for all the things that you’ve done for me.

I’m meeting mom, because again, you taught me well. She didn’t have the chance to fill in the stiletto shoes that you’ve tried to wear with much dread. I’m simply giving her the chance to be the mom that she is, and myself for being that child who longed for an iPad a mother’s love.


Do not fear. She will never be able to fill in 28 years of your hard work.


No one shall be able to replace you.


So wipe off that worried look on your weird face.


Just like what the dragon warrior Po learned when he returned to his duck of a dad.


That after all our battles in life, I’d come home.


Still your son.


And you, my dad.

Kuha mo?




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Oh and BTW, Happy father’s day.

 
 
image from here.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Anger


In your anger do not sin:
Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry...
 



image from here.

Monday, June 6, 2011

An open letter (emo/ anger management post)

Yes, an open letter. But this isn’t for any particular person or event that you think would somehow be likened to anyone's "situation". (Nagmo-moment lang ako).

This is to admit to my mistakes. Well, just one of many actually.

I’m a drug addict.

Joke lang. Let’s do this again…

I’m an immature brat.

And if in case I’ve ruined your day for the past few weeks I sincerely apologize. I’ve been trying to understand my own mood swings, but sometimes, they fail to give out neither reason nor logic.

A friend of mine noticed that I usually talk about maturity, of forgiveness, of love and understanding, but would fail to act out on the same advice I’d give others. Practice what you preach, but yeah, I admit to my imperfections. I’m interesting that way :P.

Lemme zero in on my mood swings.


I have this ‘super sweet’ mode that it’s vomit inducing. Then at times I’d switch it to ‘brat/ irked’ mode in a split second. The latter causes me trouble. Thus I try to analyse it for prevention purposes.

I get into that zone when I start getting depressed. Some may have petty reasons, others would stem out from absorbing other’s own depression. It then translates to an irked little brat.

Recently, I was able to identify some reasons for the mood switch.

Childhood memories.

As a kid, I was a perfectionist and very much competitive. I loved how I was in control of so many things, like how I can be better in school and almost everything else against my cousins. But there were things I couldn’t control, like how I was left with my aunt in Batangas while my dad worked in Manila.

And how much of a clumsy little kid I was. A trait that I carried on till now and has caused me numerous accidents including one car crash. It was one major flaw that I couldn’t hide from everyone. I was a walking disaster. I never got spanked since I never really did anything against the “adult’s” orders, or I was simply never caught.

So yes, I get a lot of scolding for all the antique china’s that I’ve broken. But my dad treated it differently. I see him only during the weekends, but one Saturday, my dad was fortunate enough to see me break another thick llanera (those thick oblong almost emerald plates made to serve pasta/ rice).

“Papaluin kita, pero dapat alam mo kung bakit,” my dad sternly commented as I bare my ass for his belt’s mercy.

“opo, nakabasag nanamn po ako ng pinggan,” I answered, though barely audible in between sobs.

Then all of a sudden, he asked me to get up, put on my shorts and said, “sige, at least sa susunod magiingat ka na. Mas importante ka naman sakin kesa sa mga plato na yan. Kaya kong palitan yan, pero ikaw hindi.” Yeah shoot me now for my dad’s cheesy lines. Now you know where I got it from.

I think it was just for my tita’s sake that he had to (supposedly) spank me. But he never really told my tita that I didn’t.

So my point entirely? Hold your breath.

Last weekend, I broke a small plate at a friend’s videoke invite. A wave of emotions filled me, of humiliation, of fear, of embarrassment, I felt stupid, I felt small. I wanted to go home. You think it petty? Yeah, seems like it, but it was not petty for me. I couldn’t get hold of my good mood after that. I was close to tears when it happened.

Then my defenses got all up. I got irked with simple things. I tried to smile but I could not get a real one.

I got irritated easily. Like how a friend stepped on my new shoes and got it dirty. Like how I could now understand how other people have issues …beeep and actually agree with 'em. And how I wasn’t able to go to weekend mercatto. Second phase of my “condition”, I got paranoid, thinking I’m getting left out again. Like I’m again another insignificant being forcing himself up in the company of “so called” friends (yes, same issue of the cabinet incident, and dami kong issues no?). Friends who are there only when it’s all happy and exciting. Yeah, I know, shoot me. Mali na nga ako.

Yes. It was petty, but it was important to me. One little fucking plate started it all. Blame it on the plate.

Thus, I ask for forgiveness. Because I ruined someone’s night out.

Because I wanted to get my frustrations out even if it meant ruining a supposed gimmick.

So there. I am sorry. I’m just childish like that.

BELAT!

(sa mga nasagasaan ng mood swings ko, nahihiya ako mag approach, so please lang, lambingin nyo nalang ako ha! Sorry na kasi!)
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