Pibertdei KUYA Glenn aka Maldito Bitch na Dyowa ni Aling Dionisia! [Pakantot] Pakanton Ka!

Isa sa pinaka-ayokong ugali ng isang tao eh 'yung pinakekealaman ang diskarte ko. Pwede kang magyabang sakin kahit puro asoge lang talaga laman ng kakarampot na kukote mo, mag-joke nang walang kasing korni,  o sumayaw nang hubo't hubad sa saliw ng Careless Whisper nang tayong dalawa lang sa kwarto pero utang na loob, wag mong pakekealaman ang diskarte ko.

Ang sa akin lang naman, hindi kita pinakekealaman sa mga pinaggagagawa mo kaya wag mo kong pakealaman sa pinaggagagawa ko. Wag mo 'kong salingin.

"Magiging stagnant lang ako run. Ayokong magsimula sa posisyong hindi naman talaga 'yun ang linya ng trabaho ko. Kaya nga ko nag-Board para makapasok sa ganitong propesyon, hindi para maupo lang maghapon sa de-aircon na opisina at magpalaki ng betlogs."

Nakapag-bitaw ako ng mga salitang sa tingin ko eh hindi ko dapat sinabi sa isang taong pinahahalagahan ko higit kaninuman. Hindi ko sinasadya. Dala na rin siguro ng pinaghalong banas at pagod na dulot ng maghapong pagpapatintero sa pinakamalaking pook-palamigan dito sa lugar na nilipatan namin kaya ko nasabi ang mga pangungusap na aaminin kong hindi dapat sinasabi sa mga tulad niyang kapita-pitagan.

Hindi niya tahasang sinabi pero sa ubod ng kanyang mensahe, naroon ang pagtuligsa sa desisyon kong hindi tanggapin ang posisyon sa isang pribadong kumpanya kahit na umaabot sa humigit-kumulang tatlumpung libong piso ang bid ng kumpanya sa tanong na "Magkano ka?" para sa serbisyo ko. Sa gitna ng mga linya, batid kong kung siya lang ang masusunod, mas nanaisin pa niyang tanggapin ko ang alok kesa magpakahirap pa ko sa kakalabas-masok sa puke malalamig na opisina ng Ayala.

Maglilimang araw na simula nang nagpakabuhay-batugan ako ng saktong limang araw rin sa probinsya. Limang kabibilis na mga araw. Limang araw na pala ang ginugol ko sa pakikipagkantutan pakikipag-taguan pung sa mga HR ng Makati na mahilig magpekpek shorts. [Sa tingin ko, istayl 'to ng mga recruitment personnel para masubukan ang katatagan at kapasyahan ng mga lalakeng aplikante.]

Limang araw na rin pala akong nakatengga.

Hindi naman sa mahinang klase akong nilalang kaya hanggang ngayon eh puro pa rin ako marathon sa kahabaan ng Ayala. Ang totoo niyan, kung pipiliin kong pumasok sa mga pribadong kumpanya, mas mabilis sana ang pirmahan ng kontrata. Pero sa dinami-dami ng mga nagtataasang mga gusali sa Makati, limang kumpanya lang ang binigyan ko ng kopya ng resume ko - 'yung Big 4 at 'yung ikalimang firm na sumusunod sa Big 4.

Dalawa sa Big 4 ang hanggang ngayon eh hindi pa rin nakikipag-sexmate sakin. 'Yung isa run, talamak ang balitang hindi raw sila nangangailangan ng mga bagong pasa ngayon. 'Yung isa naman, obyus na may diskriminasyon dahil mga Ivy League schools lang daw ang kinukuha. Napailing na lang ako nang di sinasadya. Sa panahong nagsusumigaw sa pantay-pantay na karapatan at kawalan ng dalawang bukod na pamantayan ang lahat, nakakatarantadong isipin na buhay pa rin pala sa lipunan ang ganitong taliwas na kamalayan.

Aaminin kong pinanghinaan ako ng loob sa nasagap kong balita mula sa iba pang masugid ding suki ng mga underpass sa  teritoryo ng mga Binay dahil [1] hindi ako kabilang sa mga nagsipagtapos sa tatlong pamantasang pangalan pa lang eh mabilis pa sa pagkalat ng pinakabagong sex scandal ang hatak sa mga kumpanya at [2] mahigpit ang kumpetisyon sa humigi't kumulang dalawang libong matatalinong nilalang na kani-kanyang diskarte sa pagbebenta ng alindog sa apat na prestihiyosong kumpanyang 'to.

Kumbaga sa pagkuha ng Hunter X Hunter license exam, matira ang matibay.

Nakapag-exam ako kay Big 3 at sasabihin ko sa'yong kung hindi lang sana ako nagpaka-buhay bum ng isang linggo, malamang sa malamang eh nakuha ko na ang posisyong simula't sapol eh pangarap na ng lahat ng mga estudyanteng nagtapos, nag-review, at pumasa sa propesyong naitadhana para sa mga tulad ko. Sa pakikipagplastikang pakikipanayam na naganap, diretsahang sinabi sakin na ang maaari ko lamang asahan sa kumpanya nila eh Advisory position at hindi ang pangarap kong BJ (Big Job) dahil lahat ng slots para sa posisyong 'yun eh napunan na. 

Anakngtitengmaugat talaga o!

Isang linggong pagninilay-nilay bakasyon lang, nuknukan ng huli na bang matatawag 'yun? Alam mo 'yung pumasok ka sa isang bahay-aliwan tapos laspag nang chick ang itinable sa'yo kasi huli ka nang dumating at lahat ng quality eh kakerengkeng na ng iba? Malapit-lapit dun ang naramdaman ko.

Suma-tutal, tinanggihan ko ang alok ni Big 3 sa paniniwalang nakatadhana lang ako sa pangarap kong BJ.

Sunod kong pinuntahan si Big 1 na bagaman at tahanan ng mga pinakamagagaling sa propesyong kinabibilangan ko eh walang pagtatangging pantay ang trato sa lahat. Walang ibinubukod dahil lahat ng aplikanteng nagagawi sa dakong iyon eh sabay-sabay na kumukuha ng pagsusulit. At alam mo kung ano ang mas mainam pa rito? Ibinabase ang posibilidad na pagkuha sa'yo sa markang nakuha mo at hindi sa bango ng pangalan ng paaralan kung saan ka nagtapos.

Hindi ko na pahahabain pa.

Pagkatapos kong kumuha ng pagsusulit kahapon, nakatanggap ako ng mensahe mula sa kanila kanina at inaanyayahan akong dumalo sa "briefing on June 15 at 10AM. Proceed at *VJY Building 1. 7871 Ayala Ave. Makati City." Kung ano ang ibig sabihin nito hindi ko alam. Gusto kong isiping eto na sa wakas ang pangarap kong BJ at ang kahihinatnan ng pakikipagsapalaran kong ito sa Big 1 eh sa susunod na linggo ko pa malalaman.

So help me God.

At oo, walang kinalaman ang title sa nilalaman ng post. Happy birthday Maldito bitch! Pakantot ka!

*VJY Building 1, 7871 Ayala Ave. Makati City - hindi tunay na pangalan ng gusali at lunan

Isang Linggo Bago ang Delubyo

Oh hai there wavelength!

Hindi pa sana ko mag-a-update ng blog ngayon kasi mas okey pa sa olrayt ang matagal ko ring na-miss na bummer lifestyle pero baka isipin mong hiatus mode na naman ako. Kaya eto, sasabihin ko sa’yong katatapos ko lang magjakol kagigising ko lang at wala pa ko sa tamang katinuan. Habang tinitipa ko ang shit na ‘to, mas fresh pa sa Colgate Fresh Confidence ang hininga ko at dinaig ko pa ang pinagsama-samang ampaw ng mga super gay na Super Junior sa kasingkitan dahil sa nag-uumapaw na muta sa mata.

Sarap talaga ng buhay-batugan.

Ang sarap gumising sa oras na gusto mong gumising sa umaga tanghali at walang pukenginang megaphone na mambubulahaw sa’yo’t gagambala sa pantasya mong pakikipagpulot-gata kay hot na hot na Sarah Geronimo. Sarap bumangon sa kama at pagkatapos eh may nakahanda nang mainit-init na cornhotsilog sa mesa with matching creamy chocolatey Milo pa!

San ka pa, di ba?

Ibang klase talaga ‘tong ermats ko. Mabilis pa sa pagharurot ng mga tarantadong jeepney driver sa España ang pagpapa-PR sa poging poging unico hijo niya. Wala eh, lisensyado na tayo. Hah! Kaya nga labs na labs ko ‘tong mommy kong ‘to.  Alam na alam kung pano makakapag-dilehensya ng pera.

Eh ano nga ba ang pinagkakaabalahan ni Lio Loco sa mga panahong dapat eh naka-isputing na siya ng pormal-pormalan at nakikipagtalik nakikipag-utuan na sa mga HR na hapit na hapit ang suot sa Maynila?

Wala lang naman. Petiks mode kung petiks mode ang buhay ng puta:

Gigising nang tanghali. Didiretso sa banyo. Magjajakol. Maliligo. Kakain ng almusal tanghalian. Maglalaro ng PSP. Ipapahiram ang PSP sa mga chikiting patrol na pamangkin ‘pag sawa na. Makikipagharutan sa kanila hanggang sa tagtag na ang baby fats nila kaka-body slam namin. Manonood ng Wowowee at Eat Bulaga dahil sobrang adik sa mga shitty noon-time shows ang mga tao rito at hindi pwedeng ilipat sa ibang channel ang TV at wala na palang WOWOW sa cable namin tangina talaga eh ‘yun lang kaligayahan ko noon tuwing mag-isa ko sa bahay tas tinanggal pa ng pukenginang cable service provider namin pakshet ano pang silbi ng cable pag wala nang WOWOW?

Manonood ng porn sa laptop Mag-d-DVD marathon pag burat na burat na ‘ko kakapapanood sa muka ni Pokwang. Kakain pag nagutom. Mag-pupush up pag wala nang magawang matino. Makikipag-agawan ule sa PSP. Makikipag-inuman sa tito ‘pag nasa mood. Lage akong nasa mood. Manonood ule ng DVD. Kakain. Mag-p-PSP hanggang abutin na ng bukang-liwayway. Magjajakol. Matutulog.

Repeat Refrain until fade.

Kapagod ng iskedyul ko di ba? Panis ang hectic appointments ni Henry Sy at Jaime Zobel de Ayala.

Kaya nga bumibigat betlogs ko dito. Na hindi ko naman isinusumpa. Ang totoo niyan eh sobrang malaking transformation nga raw ang nangyari sakin sabi ng mga tao rito. Mga walangya! Para na rin nilang sinabing si Shrek eh nagmuka nang Prince Charming sa wakas. O mas bagay siguro ‘yung si Palito eh nag-evolve na into Piolo Pascual.

Tae, nung minsan ngang naghubad ako ng pang-itaas dito sa sobrang ineeet, sinabihan ako nung isang chikiting ng “Tito, you look like Ely Buendia with sculpted physique.” (Digression: may konting hawig DAW ako kay Ely Buendia sabi ng mga katropa ko. Sabi nila, hmmkei?) “Tito, your tummy is so tubby.” Ampotah! May pa-tubby-tubby pang nalalaman ‘tong maliit na mokong na ‘to. Eh kung tabingihin ko kaya muka nito?

Pero seryoso, namiss ko ‘tong mga bulinggit na ‘to. Namiss ko ang mga pinsan kong kung hindi nakipag-hiwalay sa asawa eh nangagsi-anakan na. (Ako na lang ata ang napag-iiwanan. Tsk! Ayaw pa kasing pakasal ni Sarah Geronimo. Pasikretong live-in lang daw muna.) Namiss ko ang mommy kong walang sawang pinagsisilbihan ang poging pogi’t lisensyado nang unico hijo niya. Oo, kelangang ulit-ulitin dahil hindi pa nagsi-sink in. Namiss ko ang fresh air dito. Namiss ko ang takbo ng buhay ng mga tao ritong hindi nagmamadali at parang wala lang., pasimple-simple lang. Namiss ko ang buhay-probinsya.

Whoooooh, this is teh life!

Kaya mahal kong Maynila ni Atienza (na natalo pala sa eleksyon) at lumelevel up na resume ko (apat na pages lang naman; ganun kapayat),  saka na kayo. Mag-eenjoy muna ‘ko!

*Pekpektyur 1: Napulot ko lang habang nagbabasa sa isang blog na paboritong tambayan. Gawa ni Leeroy New; art stalled at Manila Contemporary (Whitespace, Pasong Tamo) Pekpektyur 2: Ang dalawang Goin' Bulilit habang sarap na sarap kakalaro ng isa sa pinakapambihirang imbensyon ng ika-dalawampu't dalawang siglo para sa mga taong walang ginagawa sa buhay Pekpektyur 3: Ang hita kong flawless at ang dalawang patabaing biik habang nag-p-PSP. Pekpektyur 4: Si Lio Loco at si Ren at si Roi at si Raq. Ketataba ng mga nephew ko ano? Ako na lang hinde. Tsk! Pekpektyur 5: Di bale nang kita ang man-boobs (Bulilit Edition), basta nakakapag-PSP.

Rant!!!

Fine, I ate my gawddamn words by practically pouring my thoughts in this pseudo-forsaken blog yet again. Pasensiya, hindi ko mapigilan. Baka sumabog ako. Baka bumigay nang di oras. Kelangan ko lang ilabas. So yeah, kill me.

I'm not giving you the burden of reading this endless emoish litany. I know; everyone's life is full of stinking shit already. I better not add up to yours. Do yourself a favor by closing this tab real quick and bloghopping to some random pathetic what-I-did-today blog. Yeah, right. Like the whole macrocosm cares about someone's fucked up itinerary.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Hindi ako pumasok sa review school ngayon. I know a day of absence will mean a lot but the hell, I don't think I can grasp the archaic accounting concepts blabbered by some blatherskite reviewer with this kind of self-deprecating state I'm currently wallowing in. I didn't feel like attending the class. Heck, I don't even care anymore. I don't think I still have the guts to chase this elusive dream. I think I had enough of this divine providence clusterfuck.

I'm inches from quitting the call whoring job. Sawang sawang sawa na 'ko sa kakasagot ng mga istupidong Kanong tawag from outer space asking help in setting up their Internet connection and configuring their email accounts. The world is reeking of stupidity and we're not even noticing it; perhaps because we're becoming part of the imbecilic number ourselves. It came to a point where I'd rather not wake up from deep slumber kasi ayokong pumasok sa putahan. It's always the same "dragging my balls to gawddamn call whoring work" routine. Everyday is a fuckin' tug-o-war between my rational don't-go-to-work-and-you-die self and my individualistic, never-compromise-your-happiness fight attitude. Paulet-ulet. Masyadong repetitive. Isinusuka na siya ng ulirat ko.

Pwe!

Pero 'yun nga, hindi pwede. Not now, not in the near week or so. Primarily because I'm the primary dole out giver to the family. Shit. Pati sentence construction ko walang sense. What's with using the adjective and adverb form of "prime" in one friggin' sentence? Whatever happened to your creative juices, Lio? You're becoming stupid by the minute.

Sheesh!

Si utol nagtext nung isang araw. Wala pa ring kasiguruhan 'yung papasukang trabaho. Pending hangga't walang approval from the friggin' company's board of directors. I know she badly wanted the employment. Sa tingin ko nga, sobrang napi-pressure na 'yun eh. Ikaw ba naman ang tanungin ng buong barangay araw-araw kung may trabaho ka na after passing the hellish Board for six months already. Tapos, may usapan pa kami. Pag na-hire na siya, we'll switch places daw. Ako naman ang magiging PALamunin niya. In short, hello estudyanteng reviewee, goodbye call center puta for me! Pero ayokong masyado niyang isipin ang would-be responsibility na 'yun hangga't wala pa siyang matinong trabaho.

Nagtext ang mommy ko kanina. Anong araw ba ngayon? Katorse. Swelday. Kaya pala. Ayokong buksan ang inbox ng cellphone ko dahil alam ko naman kung ano ang lalamanin nun. Mangungumusta. Tatanungin kung okey lang ba 'ko. Kung okey lang ba ang pagrereview ko. Kung hindi naman daw ba ko masyadong nahihirapan sa current setup kong gigising ng alas-singko ng umaga tapos papasok sa putahan maghapon tapos didiretso sa review center hanggang 9PM tapos magrereview sa dorm hanggang alas dos ng madaling araw tapos gigising ule ng madaling araw ng alas-singko para magpakaputa. Endless douchebag carousel.

Haha.

Ang korni ng joke ng mommy ko kung saka-sakaling nagpapatawa siya. Obyus namang hindi okey ang setup na tatlo hanggang apat na oras lang ang pahinga at humigi't kumulang dalawampung oras ang bubunuin mong paglalagare sa trabaho at review.

Tapos may sundot na ang text na 'yun sa bandang dulo. Hindi magiging kumpleto ang mamisong gastos sa Smart ng mommy ko hangga't walang patay-malisyang "Anak, naipadala mo na ba allowance ko?" Hindi ko alam kung maglulupasay ako o tatambling na lang sa bus na kinauupuan ko. That text killed me, if you must know.

Wala naman talagang kaso sakin. Hangga't meron, sige lang. Bigay lang. Kaya nga ko nagtatrabaho para sa kanila. Para kay mommy at sa utol ko. Kaso lang, kung minsan, nakakapraning din. Nakakapagod. Nakakasawa. There's something in this queer "they're counting on you" Filipino mentality that kills me. Heck, kung hindi sila ang priority ko, noon pa sana ko naging CPA. But then again, I chose to put this dream in the backseat for them.

Not that I'm complaining. Ngayon pa ba ko magcocomplain eh noon pa naman, nakaya ko nang batakin 'to maski na di ko ginusto? I didn't have a choice so I fuckin' bore with it. Siyempre kasama na sa adjusting at acceptance phase ang walang patumanggang malulutong na pagmumura ko noon sa daddy kong walang bayag. Na hindi naman niya matitikman dahil forever stowaway na siya samin.

There's this one time in Baguio when we had a drinking spree with my call whoring teammates sa bahay ng coach (call whoring term for "bisor") namin. 'Yung iba, akala mo kung sinong matibay sa alak. Ang yayabang. Buhos pa raw. Sige lang, buhos sa shot glass. Kanya-kanyang bangko sa chitchat. Kanya-kanyang kwentong barbero. Tapos three cases of beer and five long necks later, para nang mga asong bahag ang buntot. Mangingilag nang uminom at sasabihing kaka-shot lang daw nila.

Ulol. Wala lang kayong bayag. Haha.

Ako na lang ang kumukuha ng shot nila dahil hindi ako duwag sa espiritu ng alak tulad nila. Sila 'tong kalalaki ng bulto ng katawan tapos sila pa 'tong maliit ang sisidlan ng alak? Pwe! Kung iinom ka rin lang, panindigan mo na. Pinaka-ayoko sa lahat 'yung nagtatanong ng "Ako na ba? Di ba katatapos ko lang?" pag nakapaikot na ang lahat sa mesa ng serbesa. Heck, 'yung tanggero pa nga ang nagbibigay ng favor sa'yo kasi nadodoble ang share mo ng alak kung saka-sakali mang lasheng na ang putangina.

So 'yun nga.

Dahil ako ang sumasalo ng dapat na para sa kanila, nabangenge rin ako nung time na 'yun. At hulaan niyo kung ano ang ginawa ko? Haha! I made a scene and cried like a fuck. I bawled out right there and then and howled my dad's name like an infantile moron. Hindi ko talaga maalalang nagawa ko 'yun but my teammates told me the whole shameful shit the next day. You know that thing about not being able to remember anything you did the night you drank all the beer bottles dry? Totoo 'yun. At kung may kumontra man, sasabihin ko nang harap-harapan na hindi siya totoong tomador.

Shit.

Hindi ko alam na deep within me, meron pa palang natitirang affection sa putanginang daddy ko. 'Yung mga panahong nawala siya samin, 'yung mga panahong lumaki ako nang walang paternal guidance, 'yun 'yung time na itinakwil ko na siya sa buhay ko like he had forsaken us himself. Sabi ko pa nga, he's not worth calling a dad dahil wala siyang bayag. Kasi pinasa niya sakin nang sapilitan lahat ng dapat sana eh siya ang nagsusunong. Plus I had that vow never to sire a child and leaving him after insatiably spurting in coitus nirvana.

Iniisip ko, kung andito kaya siya ngayon mag-iiba kaya ang takbo ng buhay ko? Namin? Magtatrabaho pa ba ko sa putahan nang sapilitan? Magpapakahirap pa kaya ako sa paghahabol ng buwakanginang CPA pangarap na 'to? Magkakanda-leche leche ba ang buhay namin noon kung hindi niya pinairal ang kahaliparotan niya? Siguro oo (mayamang Tsinoy kasi ang gagong 'yun). O pwede ring hindi (may iba nang pamilya; baka kulangin sa pera pag pinagsabay kami). Hindi mo naman talaga malalaman hangga't hindi mo nasusubukan. Which makes the rhetorical questions irrelevant because the event won't ever happen.

Tapos dumagdag pa ngayon 'tong problemang 'to (na hindi ko na babanggitin dahil masyadong sensitibo). At hindi pa kasama diyan ang "civil misunderstanding" sa mga tropa-nilalang ng dormitoryong pinagkukutaan ko.

Fuck.

Patung-patong na. Kung kelan pursigido ka na sa isang bagay saka naman biglang magsusulputan ang kung anu-anong shit para mag-quit ka. Kaya nga sabi ko noon ayoko talaga magplano. Nadidiskaril lang pag nagplano ka. Pag hindi natupad, todo-todo ang frustration. Mas maganda siguro kung spur-of-the-moment na lang ang gamitin kong strategy. Hindi naman ako isang celluloid comic superhero na nakalabas ang brip para bigyan ng sandamakmak na villains sa buhay. I'm just a young man chasing a dream. I just want to be a gawddamn CPA! Is that even too much to fuckin' ask?

Tae.

Aaminin kong hindi na 'ko pala-simba at hindi na rin ako pala-dasal. (Dati religious ako to the point na nag-a-Angelus pa kami ng utol ko tuwing six o'clock; pero ngayon, biglang nawalang parang bula. Hypothesize why.) Pero kung minsan, hindi ko rin mapigilang kwestyunin ba't sa dinami-dami ng masasamang tao sa mundo eh ako pa ang napagdiskitahan Niya. Wag mo 'kong aluin ng philosophical divine shitnitz dahil hindi uubra 'yan sakin. Matalino ako, oo. Strong-willed, alam ko 'yun. Pero sana naman wag Niyang masyadong sagarin ang pag-test sakin to the point na I'd rather pick the comfort maski na galing pa kay Satanas 'yan than bear the pain and anguish and painstaking sacrifice.

Okey, half-meant lang 'yung bandang dulo. Baka nga bigla akong lapain ng diablo.

Pero hindi ko babawiin ang sinabi kong nawawalan na 'ko ng faith. Unti-unti nang nalulusaw ang hope and trust and all that boxed up moral shitnitz. Kung mahal Niya talaga ang mga anak Niya, hindi Niya hahayaang makita silang nahihirapan. Sobrang nahihirapan na mas pipiliin pa nilang isuko ang lahat kesa malampasan ang mga pukenginang hamon.

Ano kaya kung i-give up ko na lang ang lahat? Ano kaya kung magpatalo na lang ako sa buwakanginang kapalaran? Ano kaya kung sabihin ko sa Kaniyang suko na 'ko, masyado kasing mahirap ang pagsusulit, at sobrang unfair ng mga multiple choice questions na ibinigay Niya sa pukenginang buhay ko?

Ano kaya kung biglang bigla na lang, bumigay ako sa pakikipagpatintero sa putanginang tadhana?

I feel helpless. I feel forsaken. I feel isolated from this selfish, gawddamn society.

Sana andito si Holden Caulfield.

Better Late Than Absent

Dahil nag-team building ang mga call boys at call girls ng Makati sa Batangas netong Linggo lang, nakalimutan kong Mother's Day pala sa araw na 'yun at kelangang bigyang pugay ang mga pukeng nagluwal satin dito sa mundong ibabaw. On second thought, maski pala naalala kong Mother's Day noong Linggo eh hindi ko pa rin makakayang batiin ang mommy ko ng Happy Mother's Day sa teleserye ng totoong buhay.

Hindi ako showy. Sa buong hinagap ko, wala akong maalalang pagkakataon na binati ko siya ng Happy Birthday o Happy Mother's Day o Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Hindi ko rin siya magawang yakapin o bigyan man lang ng bading na bading na beso-beso. Siguro kasi andun pa rin 'yung pagbabakasakali na kung hindi sila naghiwalay ng daddy ko, malamang sa malamang eh larawan kami ng isang normal na pamilya ngayong nagmo-malling malling lang tuwing Linggo; malamang sa malamang eh hindi ako nagpapakaputa ngayon at namumuhay ng carefree, bummer lifestyle na parang mga Alabang Boys lang. Siguro kasi punumpuno lang ako ng kaangasan sa katawan kaya ultimo pagtext ng isang forwarded Happy Mother's Day ekek eh hindi ko makakayang gawin. Siguro kasi sa dami ng buwakanginang pagsubok na ibabato sa'yo, magiging defense mechanism mo na ang mag magpaka-emo, magpaka-angas, magpaka-bato.

Pero alam kong alam niya na ang lahat ng pagpupursige ko sa buhay, ang lahat ng sakripisyong ginawa ko, ang pagpapakaputa ko sa kasalukuyan at pansamantalang pagtalikod sa mga pangarap ko eh para sa kaniya at sa utol ko. Alam kong alam niyang wala akong ibang gusto kundi ang mapabuti ang kalagayan nila, ng dalawang babaeng pinakamahalaga sa buhay ko ngayon.

Bilang pagpupugay sa babaeng nagbigay buhay sa pambihirang class S na nilalang na si Lio Loco, ibinabahagi ko sa inyo ang akdang isinulat ko at napili bilang isa sa mga lathalaing inilimbag sa "If My Life Were a Book" contest ng Philippine Star.

Pinapaalalahanan ko na naman pala kayong ang post na 'to eh walang kasing-pang-Maalala Mo Kaya. Maghanda ng panyo at tissue paper. Babaha ng balde-baldeng uhog.

Mabuhay ang mga pukeng naging daan para makaranas tayo ng mga halu-halong emosyon sa teleserye ng totoong buhay, ng mga patawa't hinagpis, ng mga nakakabangengeng tagumpay sa buhay at saksak-puso, tulo ang dugo moments! Happy Mother's Day sa mga magigiting na ina, single ina, magiging ina, feeling ina, at sa lahat ng puke ng ina!

Mercy, Mother, Mercy
By Lio Loco

A few months back, I read about an Irish-American boy’s story. It was a miserable story told hilariously, something that will make you sprightly and awake even up to the wee hours of the morning. And truth be told, his miserable Irish Catholic childhood was the culprit why I got a reprimand from a fuming mother on two counts – (1) laughing like an insane hyena when the rest of the folks were asleep, and (2) sleeping when the rest of the folks were about to wake up.

The boy’s name was Frank McCourt. And glaring at his black-and-white picture of unkempt hair, freckled cheeks, and a curious estimating stare on the book’s cover, I realized how much of Frank’s idiosyncratic chronicles were another boy’s as well – mine.

Nearly two decades ago, I became a reluctant first-born of a middle-class Tsinoy from the city and a young, ambitious woman from the province. How they met remained a mystery to me but I have my probable guess. Having drained my neurons to a non-stop slew of soap operas (courtesy of housemates-turned-telenovela addicts), I have deduced a more common plot that would fittingly explain the faded love story of my parents: Girl from the province goes to the city to try her luck. Boy meets girl. Boy and girl fall in love, cohabit, and procreate. And as in most recycled telenovela twists, boy gets smitten by another lover, leaves the girl, and abandons the child.

“We split the kids. I take the boy, you take the girl.” I remember how dad seemed to be different at that time, speaking in tones of finality I never saw in him before. I was four. Sean, on the other hand, was three.

“No, I can raise both of them on my own.” My mom was resolute, declining the fifty-fifty deal.

End of the argument. My dad walked away. My mom packed our bags and headed straight to the nearest bus terminal.

During our entire journey back to her hometown, my mother hardly spoke. She was close to becoming a mute and in the event that I wanted to pee, drink, or eat something, she uttered only a few syllables in response. The unfeeling kid that I was, I now figure that I was too dense to even notice that my mother just had the most difficult decision in her life. Back then, I was too preoccupied with trifling things to even consider the weight of my mother’s burden. I was unmindful to take note of the changes, too lazy to even think about why we had to move and live in my grandmother’s house in the province and contend with a looming teenage life without paternal guidance.

When I began to study, hardly anyone knew about the past that I’ve tried to keep hidden. Hardly anyone of my classmates knew that I am a product of a broken family and that my father abandoned us before I even had the maturity to deal with the ugly truth. I shunned that hideous part of my life because I wanted to belong, because I was afraid to be cast away; something I should have never allowed myself to feel in the first place. But secrets will never be such forever. When my mother decided to become an OFW in some Middle East country, the conspicuous absence of my parents in PTCA meetings brought the skeletons in my closet in full view to the public.

My sister and I were mocked, laughed at, pitied even – unsolicited emotions I would be more than glad to return to the assuming kibitzer untouched. That was the time when I finally understood everything, when wicked reality finally sank its sharp fangs on me, when comprehension dawned on my young existence. For the first time in my life, I felt how it was to be “orphaned.”

It was difficult to live a normal life like any kid with a perfect set of parents did when a fatherless childhood, in all its vile ugliness, kept shoving itself up your face. I felt how it was to be humiliated in the class as your grade school adviser calls your attention because your parents have failed to show up in the freakin’ parents-teachers dialogue since time immemorial. I felt how it was to be laughed at by classmates because they have fathers who teach them how to dribble a ball properly and you have none, so you try to learn all by yourself but you end up doing a lousy basketball stunt anyway.

How it was to get worried over a “swollen head” after two days of being circumcised because you can’t seem to have the guts to tell it to anyone, and if only you had a father you'd have sought a “man-to-man talk” with him right there and then; but since you don’t have one, you have no other choice but to bring the “delicate” matter to your female nurse cousin. How it was to live on a steady diet of cheap instant noodles because your mother abroad has yet to send some money, and your grandmother is tempted to borrow cash from your 5-6 dealer neighbor because she doesn’t know how else to feed two growing mouths the next day. And then you think of your bogus father and wonder if this crippling poverty would have ever been possible had he not deserted you.

It sucked to be ogled at by everybody like some suicidal monkey caged in a zoo, people throwing fake sympathies, watching your every move, awaiting every mistake you commit because for them you were an oddball and you were only expected to do nothing but blunder. Because as a scion of a broken family, you were bound to be branded by a judgmental society as a failure.

But I did not succumb to the lousy, stereotypical expectations. Because I was never born a defeatist. I became non-conforming, one who would never let commonplace things get the better of him. I focused on my studies, furthered my knowledge, devoured every book, every newspaper, every reading material I could lay my hands on. I became preoccupied with academic organizations, inter-school competitions, and worthwhile hobbies. I kept myself busy in the hope that all the miseries and frustrations I felt would be overcome by the academic triumphs I had.

When I graduated in high school, I became the class valedictorian and it felt good. I felt that was the time to finally avenge. I savored every drop of vindication I had for all the people who laughed at us and told us that we were no good. I thought it was pay-day for me. But I was wrong. For soon I realized that seeking revenge to all those who did us wrong, my father included, would do me no good. I realized it was futile to retaliate. And in that sudden realization, I discovered that a more potent human emotion resided in my heart. That was the ardent desire to pay homage and respect to one of the most important persons in my life – my mom.

As I look at the countless medals and awards I received, I see the picture of a woman brave enough to hurdle the innumerable adversities that came her way. I see a resolute face of a woman who made a life-altering decision seventeen years ago. A determined woman who took the pains of taking care of other parents’ children in some faraway place while never having the chance to take care of her own because she wanted them to live. A selfless woman who was able to raise her two children single-handedly, helping them find their own places under the sun. A woman who only wanted to be happy but never really experienced genuine happiness.

Today I am already through schooling, having graduated as a Cum Laude last November. I am about to join the work force and soon I will finally turn my dreams into reality. When that time comes, I will offer it to my mom as a testament of her immeasurable toils and hardships on raising me and my sister. I know that’s still many years from now but I am not daunted by the waiting. Because I know that one day, it will happen… One day, my mom will finally experience true happiness…

Indeed, Frank McCourt’s life, and his idiosyncratically poignant telling of it, made an impact, an indelible mark on me because I figured out how much of his story was similar to mine. Both of us lived miserable childhoods. Both of us were born in quirky, imperfect families. Both of us always had the desire to lift our family up from the sinking quagmire of poverty, that eternal, inextinguishable flame to make their lives better. We both had dreams. And we both believed in the triumph of the human spirit.

Frank McCourt’s mother’s name was Angela, after whom he titled his book – Angela’s Ashes.

My mother’s name is Mercy, and in her name I christen this story.

The two most important women in my life, so far.

Chronicles of Beer-nia: There in Baguio and Back Again (First of Two Parts)

Holy motherfuckin' cow! Manila is boiling hot like that April FHM cover girl whose itsy bitsy, golden piece of clothing more than makes up for Asia 's departure as the resident sex guru of the best men's magazine in this land of oozing libidos and insatiable desires.(Heck,I'm not even pretty sure if it's a piece of lingerie that she's wearing; I think I need a closer inspection. Hakhak!) The comparison is, of course, in it's most negative sense.

Because while the new FHM fornication adviser will make you stay in your room 'till kingdom come in spite of the intense heat, Manila's temperature yesterday would make you do otherwise. Thirty nine frackin' celsius, man! That's more than a fever. You can only imagine then how utterly delirious I was yesterday walking at the Ayala pavements after a hard day's call whoring work at sun-high noon with a pair of Quiapo-peddled shades, a Baguio ukay-ukay jacket and an American twang to boot.

Methought I was somewhere near the Caribbean seas yesterday, the asphalt replaced by fine grains of pearly white sands, the inanimate lamp posts turning into bending coconut trees, and the faceless whir of people suddenly becoming bodily figures of thongs and bras and whatever flesh is hidden beneath.

It's not sexual perversion, you book cover judges. It's called a mirage. And that's what you get when you become attacked by signs of Third world global warming. Which leads me to reminiscing my seven-day, cool Baguio hike. What an ingenious way to segue, eh? Lol! Allow me then to take a trip back to the zigzagging memory lane and relive the week of fresh dews and cold beer bottles, of old friends and Pizza Hut infatuations:

If there's one thing that you must always bear in mind when going on a considerably long vacation leave, that's making sure you have ample money to spend and take with you. I learned that the hard way during my seven-day stint as a Manila renegade, what with all the unexpected expenses mushrooming here and there like a Filipino tabloid showbiz scoop.

The one-week vacation saw me with an empty wallet and even swiping the Visa Master Card twice just because the measly oodles left in the cash cache would no longer be sufficient to carry my fog-hugging ass back here in the dirty cudgels of Manila.

It began when my mom, ever the constant alms beggar that she is, instantaneously extorted me with her supposedly semi-monthly allowance from her doting unico hijo even before I could say "Baguio." The devoted head of the family that I am, I obliged to the demand and gave her the money with a "don't spend too much on unnecessary stuff" lecture, like I am a twentyish dad teaching the ABC's of thriftiness before giving the allowance to a fortyish kid. Not to be outdone, the still-yet-to-employed sister asked for her share of bucks as well and yet again, I had to pick my wallet and empty some cash.

Out of cash? There's always the credit card. And then the migraine that comes along come payment time.

A quick digression: If, by any chance, you know of an employer or a company that hires folks for IT- or electronics-related jobs, then please do contact me ASAP. My sister may fit the job to a T as she became a recent Electronics and Communications Engineering graduate and a certified Board passer at that. She has had job offers last month but it was through agencies; gawd knows how big the cut these human resources sharks get from your starting salaries after referring you to some Makati high-rise companies. She decided not to take the agency bait, as she is very well aware the remaining keep she will potentially earn would be barely enough to buy her shampoos and deo-lotions and personal kikay stuff, and I am happy to tell you she is currently biding her time at home back in the province watching sappy primetime tearjerkers. And yes, becoming a late-blooming retard for playing and watching over my two cute nephews and niece.

Somebody get me an IT- or ECE-job employer. This deserving young lady badly needs it.

Anyway, back to the inversely proportional correlation of money and vacation. As if the mom and sister robbing was not enough, the drunkard uncle, who had this habit of making indirect remarks (read: nagpaparinig) to almost always get what he wants, bellowed over a striking statement of how he was glad I was already back home, of how he missed one of his favorite nephews (I wasn't until I got a job, to tell you honestly), and of how he noticed he's becoming thirsty lately for beer and other neighbor-peddled alcohols. Yeah right uncle, miss your favorite nephew my arse! If you meant satiating your thirst for alcohol, I am willing to give you a year's supply of Green Cross Isopropyl Alcohol. Kidding. By now, I guess you know what happened next. Yeah, another involuntary jerking of the black Girbaud wallet.

Had enough? I don't think so. Fate, indeed, had this uncanny way to slap me with that "push comes to shove" cliche by requiring me to pull out ten thousand freakin' bucks pronto just for my four front teeth. I thought doing the teeth pasta in the province would really save me a lot of cash as I am aware the dental repair in Manila would give you the golden teeth for the whopping professional fee they shove up your ass. I was sort of mistaken apparently for the teeth pasta went on to become literally nerve-wracking since, as per the doctor's diagnosis, my teeth already needed root canal treatment and crown jacket operation. Double ouch not only for the dental chair experience but also for the bills you have to shelve out. Guys, take it from me: Please brush your teeth no matter how inebriated you already are, no matter how you're this close to puking your guts out because of too much alcohol. If you don't, prepare to suffer the consequences about a decade later. Haha!

Now I know how that creature must have felt during one of Dr. Victor Frankenstein's I-am-a-God pranks.

At that point, the wallet is already halfway through clearing all its bill contents and I swear, had it been given with a multi-tasking tongue, it would have wagged the pink flesh during all the implicit money begging.

But no, I am not complaining. If there are people I am toiling my call whoring job for, why I am stuck to this ephemeral place in the sun and not out there yet chasing my dreams, that would have to be them - my mom and my sister. When posed with a hypothetical question of who to rescue and give the life jacket to while the seemingly indestructible Titanic slowly sinks to the depths of despair, these two beings would have to be on top of my list. Heck, I'd even save them firsthand before I secure myself on the lifeboat. Ever since Dad chickened out and indirectly gave the father responsibility to me with nary any notice or instruction, I've vowed to prioritize their welfare first before my own.

Whoops! Becoming a tad sentemotional already, I see. Better not to toe off the line.

So yes, divirginized Virginia, it is in this Ho-ho-ho red-capped, double-chinned pedophile myth that I almost ran out of cash without even starting yet with the Baguio Big Brothers' reunion. Nonetheless, it was still fun since I got to bond with my sister and the three, little pigs nephews and niece who, judging by the pictures, missed my PSP game console more than they miss their long gone Tito.

You can go back to Manila now Tito Lio. It's okay with us for as long as the PSP stays.

They've grown a lot since I've left them and Roi-Roi (I know, Filipinism and all!Hakhak! Wait 'till you hear the nicks of the other two) looked every inch like a fattening Chinese piglet poised for the next big wedding. Haha! He also seemed to have become more shy of me than ever before. He is my godson and among the three, he's the one I adore the most, favoritism notwithstanding. Lol! He gets to have the biggest and most expensive gifts during special occasions from me but I wonder why he doesn't call me "Dude" as often as his big bro, Ren-Ren, does anymore. Indeed, absence for too a long a time can make you become nothing but a mere speck of stardust.

Dude, like that was a million light years ago. I don't know you anymore. Oh, you have a gift for me? Hold on. I think I recognize you now.

Ren-Ren graduated in his Preparatory class third in the class and Nic-Nic (What did I tell you? We are oozing with Juan dela Cruz's blood, eh? Hakhak!) surprisingly finished the school year from zero to hero - ranking 9th out of nowhere. The call whoring breather also saw my cousin Ryan's graduation but unlike the rest of us in the family, the stubborn and Prodigal Cousin didn't bag any medal save the merit he got for being a drummer in the school drum and bugle corps. It must have been because he was seriously taking up his Masters and Doctorate in Counter Strike and Cabal. Lolz! If you must be wondering why the stress in all these academic hooplas, that's because within our family, we value education and academic achievement a lot. If you must know, me and my sister have graduated Valedictorians in our primary and secondary schooling. And no, that is not a display of braggadocio at all. Haha!

I know you're as emo as I am deep down inside, but my dear prodigal cousin, whatever happened to our tradition of excellence?

Sigh. Another sigh to encapsulate all the longing I feel for these peeps.

A lot has changed since my last stay in the family compound and if there's anything I would have wished for, that would be staying a bit longer to extend the ties and bond with these people that will always have a spot in my narcissistic, angst-ridden bastard existence. These folks make me laugh and forget my whinings, remind myself that sometimes, life can be simply hilarious and care-free. They unconsciously take some angst-ridden bastardness out of me, bringing into my short-term memory loss-suffering cranial muscle's attention that it is just okay to rant and to digress and to wrong and to hurl out sharp-stabbing invectives. That it is human to get bruised for as long as you stand up and learn, for as long as you keep on growing. And for that, I will be forever grateful that the Guy Up There gave them to me.

The Three Little Pigs and the Big, Bad Bastard Wolf

As one blogger-friend aptly puts it, there are people in this ballooning macrocosm that will leave a fine imprint upon you, whether you like it or not; some folks who will remind you that at the end of the day, you do whatever it is you're doing TO EARN A LIFE, NOT TO EARN A LIVING.

Sheesh! I'm becoming buoyantly deep again. It does not make a good impression of one narcissistic, angst-ridden bastard that is Lio Loco. Now maybe I need to get the sequel of this post started already.

Off-topic

I'm collating all the tags that I received from you guys for a future post. If, by any chance, you tagged me (even if I've mouthed my abhorrence over all these tagging hullabaloo ad infinitum), please don't hesitate to remind me to get some decency and finish your tag and thank you for the honor of picking me as I am aware being tagged is now a privilege that is synonymous to fame and celebrity status. Lolz!

News Flash

I was on my way to Metrobank to settle all the monthly obligatory bills when I chanced upon the headlines in newspaper stands. The guy's face would be too difficult to miss as every gawddamn tabloid blares forth his face and name and being the corporate drone that I am (read: sleep-work-eat life cycle), I was sort of stunned at the incredulousness of the report.

The news anchor becomes the piece of news. Now, that's one fine specimen of paradox.

Para sa Utol Kong si Sean

Congrats! Engineer ka na!

Hindi ko pinagsisisihan ang desisyon kong ipagpaliban ang pagrereview ko para makapagtapos ka ng pag-aaral. Wala akong pagsisisi na naging call boy ako una sa Baguio at ngayon dito sa Makati para makapagtapos ka at makapagreview sa Maynila. Maski na alam kong sa lampas isang taong pagkagapos ko sa pagiging hilaw kong Amerikano sa telepono eh di malayong makalimutan ko na ang pinag-aralan ko sa Accounting. Okay lang ‘yon. Mas mahalaga sakin na makapagtapos ka at maabot mo ang mga pangarap mo. Sa pagpasan ko ng tungkuling tinalikuran ni daddy, pinangako ko na sa sarili kong mauuna’t mauuna ang kapakanan niyong dalawa ni mommy bago ang ano pa man. Na sa tingin ko’y natupad ko naman di ba?

Congrats! Engineer ka na!

Noong una, asar na asar ako kay mommy dahil hindi man lang niya tayo kayang pagsabayin. Nagalit ako dahil puro na lang siya salita. Naaalala mo ba yung mga panahong kababalik lang niya ng Pinas galing abroad? Sabi niya, pag-aaralin niya tayong dalawa sa private school. Sabi niya, maski anong school sa college at maski anong kurso ang gustuhin nating kunin, kaya niyang tustusan. Tayo namang mga uhuging kuting, naniwala agad. Pala, ang kahihinatnan eh ipupublic din ‘tong mga gifted neurons natin. Dami niyang pangako na puro pala bula. Kaya nga sabi ko sa sarili ko hindi pwedeng ganto na lang lagi. Nagsumikap ako para hindi mo na maranasan yung mga naranasan ko nung nasa college pa lang ako. Di bale nang magutom dahil wala akong pambili ng pananghalian basta may baon ka lang. Di bale nang saktong pandalawang araw lang ang dapat sana’y isang linggong baon ko para may maiakyat lang si mommy para sa allowance mo. Di bale nang di ako umattend ng acquiantance namin para lang makasama ka sa educational fieldtrip niyo sa Maynila. Di bale na ‘ko para lang sa ‘yo. Dadalawa na nga lang tayong mag-utol. Sino pa bang magtutulungan?

Congrats! Engineer ka na!

Sayang lang at hindi na naabutan ni Cool Granny Carmen ang napipintong tagumpay natin bilang mag-utol. Tanda ko pa. Sabi niya no’n, napakaswerte pa rin daw natin maski na nawalan tayo ng materyal na yaman sa pag-alis ni daddy. Kasi binigyan daw tayo ni Lord ng gifted genes para batakin ang mga hamon ng buhay. Dahil sa sobrang himutok, nasabi ko sa kaniya dati na kung na kay daddy sana tayo, kung pumayag lang si mommy noon, malamang sa malamang eh baka sosyalera’t sosyalerong conio na tayo sa Ateneo at La Salle. Alam mo ba ang sabi ni Cool Granny Carmen? Mauuna raw ang hirap kaya wag raw tayong mareklamo. Pasasaan ba’t sarap ng nakaririwasang buhay raw ang aanihin natin balang araw. Sadya raw ganun ang tadhana. Hindi ako kumibo noon kasi ayokong maniwala. Sa isip-isip ko, makabagdamdamin ang tinuran mo Cool Granny Carmen pero ang words of wisdom ninyo ay hindi makapagtatahan ng kumukulong sikmura at hindi makapagtatapos sa dalawang batang henyong pinagnakawan ng sandigan at kailangang kayamanan. Ngunit ngayon eh napagtanto ko na rin ang lahat. Malaman pala ang malupit na banat niyang yun. Iyon at iyon din ang naging kalasag ko sa tuwing tila tinatablan na ko ng pagod at pagkabagot at di-miminsang pagtatangkang isuko na ang lahat dahil sa tingin ko eh napakalaking responsibilidad ang sapilitang iniwan sa’kin ni daddy at di ko na kayang tiyagain pa ito. Kung nasaan man si Cool Granny Carmen ngayon, pihado akong matuwid sitang nagmamatyag at gumabagay sa’ting dalawa. Hawak ang isang boteng shoktong (paumanhin, hindi ko alam ispelingin ang pang-matandang alak na ito), may Cool Granny Carmen rest in world and eternal peace!

Congrats! Engineer ka na!

Pag umuwi tayo sa probinsiya, hindi na ako ang laging bida tulad ng lagi mong ikinayayamot. Pag-uwi natin dun, ikaw na ang bukambibig sa buong compund, sa buong block natin. Hindi ka na ma-OOP. Dati-rati, pag may importanteng lakad sa ating pamilyang extended, sabi mo laging ako ang sinasama. Ikaw hindi. Kasi kamo ako may trabaho, samantalang ikaw eh isang hamak na estudyante pa lamang. Pero ngayon…ngayon, ikaw na ang bida pag-uwi natin. Kasi licensed Electronics and Communications Engineer ka na. Sa madaling salita, mas bigatin ka na kesa sakin ngayon. LOL!

Congrats! Engineer ka na!

Ilang araw pagkatapos ng oath-taking niyo, magkakatrabaho ka na. Mabibili mo na maski anong gusto mong bilhin. ‘Yung hindi kayang ibigay satin ni mommy, makukuha mo na. Mapapalitan mo na yang cellphone mong lagi mong idinaraing sakin. Bibilhan naman talaga kita eh. Nag-iipon pa lang kasi ako. Sabi mo sakin, maski na yung tig-isang libo lang na fake Nokiang China phone. Ayoko. Kasi gusto ko, pag binilhan kita yung gusto mo, yung hindi ka mahihiyang ilabas kapag nagtetext ka sa daan. Ano na nga ba yun? N70 ba yun? Pero malamang sa malamang, mauunahan mo na kong bilhin yun pagka nagkatrabaho ka na. Di bale, bili na lang tayong laptop hane?Congrats! Engineer ka na!

Proud na proud ako sa’yo dahil may utol na kong professional. May mailalagay na rin tayong malaking karatula sa compound natin, yung may malalaking letrang kulay silver tsaka black sa parang hugis kuwadradong aluminum ata yun. Dinaig mo na nga talaga ko ngayon. Nung nasa hayskul pa lang tayo, lagi kang kinukumpara sa ‘kin ng mga teachers natin. Na siya namang kinaiinis mo. Kasi maski anong gawin mo, lagi na lang nakabuntot ang kadakilaan ng kuya mo. Hehehe. Lagi na lang si kuya, si kuya, ang nayayamot mo pang sabi. Ako lagi ang bida, ikaw laging pumapangalawa. Maski na nung grumadweyt kang valedictorian, kakambal pa rin ang pagkumpara kung sino satin ang mas magaling lalo na’t pareho tayong nanguna at magkasunod na batch pa. Ngayon, nasa ‘yo na ang huling halakhak. Naungusan mo na ang kuya mo. Ikaw na ang nagwagi. Professional ka na eh.

Congrats! Engineer ka na!

Kung alam mo lang kung gano kasaya ang kuya mo ngayon. Lagi kitang binibida sa mga kaibigan ko, sa mga kakilala ko. Nung gabi ngang lumabas yung exam results, bangenge ako nun. Napatumba namin ni Pareng Gerald ang apat na litro ng Red Horse kakaantay ng results. Chineck ko ng alas nuebe. Ala pa. Balik ng apartment. Tagay. Tiningnan ko ule ng alas-diyes. Pucha! Ala pa rin. Balik sa bahay. Tungga ule. Nagtext ka ng alas dose y medya. Sabi mo, “Kuya, pumasa ako.” Naknamputeek! Nabasa ko alas kuwatro y medya na. Pero hindi na ko nakatulog nun. Sino ba namang kuya ang mahihimbing ule sa pagtulog matapos niyang malamang pasado na ang utol niya?

Congrats! Engineer ka na!

O yan, abswelto na ko sa’yo ha. Sarili ko naman aasikasuhin ko ngayon. Balak kong magresign next year sa pagiging call boy para paghandaan naman ang dapat sana’y matagal ko nang tinapos na propesyon. Magwa-wanyir review ako. Gusto ko kasing mag-top sa CPA Board. Hehehe. Tayog ng pangarap ng kuya mo no? Parang sarangggola ni Pepe. Yaan mo nang kuya mong mangarap. Malay mo, di ba? Patataubin natin mga nagfi-feeling-feelingang Ivy League schools dito sa Maynila.

Congrats! Engineer ka na!

Pero wag ka munang mag-aasawa ha. Kinausap ko na si Jon. Pinauna ko nang marami pa tayong pangarap para satin, para kay mommy. At naintindihan naman ako ng boypren mong Magna Cum Laude. Ba’t nga pala Bossing tawag sa’kin nun eh pagkalaki-laking tao. Laking bulas nga eh. Mas malaki pa sa ‘kin. Sabi nina Pareng Gerald, ala raw akong panama sa laki ng katawan niya. Sabi ko naman, ala sa laki ng katawan yan. Pag galit ang tao, galit talaga. Pareho ang tingin sa lahat. Sabagay, mabait naman si Jon eh. Alam niya yung hirap natin. Pero hanggang ngayon, hindi ko alam ba’t ikaw nagustuhan nia? Siguro, kapareho mo lang kuya mong makarisma. Wahehehe. Ayos lang sakin ang date-date niyo. Basta wag lang kayong gagawa ng bagay na ikasisira ng tiwala ko. Malaking bata ka na. Malaking bata na siya. Alam niyo na ang mali sa tama. Kaya behave ha. Higi’t lalong wag na wag kang magpapakita sakin na puro tulo-uhog. Good shot pa naman na siya sakin. Heaven knows I’ve done know wrong but Gawd knows what I can do. Hindi yan threat.

Congrats! Engineer ka na!

At congrats din sakin. Kasi sa wakas, magkakalablayp na ko! May pang-date na ko eh. Yahoo! Magpapainom ako!

Gimme a Break!

Today is Wednesday and I’m nine days off the curse of the 19-year-old mold.

Tomorrow my sister, who has been harassing my mom for some gawddamn money for an engineering project through her (my mother) wretched blue-peeling Trium model, will be having her birthday and I know she feels pathetic and morose about having to celebrate a birthday without even some pennies to afford a decent birthday candle. Gawd knows how bloody tormenting that is for a person to be coming off her last birthday with a 1-digit age.

She’ll be turning nineteen tomorrow and I know she’ll be looking at it like another day has gone, barred of any special meaning whatsoever. If I have the money, which even a blind would very well discern I haven’t, I will give her the bucks she deserves and let her spend it the way she likes it spending - with a couple of friends going to the big screen, with her curled up dorm-mates having a nice tea party inside their hibernating Catholic abode, or even with that Chinese-descending guy who, I’m told, is patiently giving my sister a taste of Shakespearean flittings of romance. If…If…If…

I’m sitting here infront of a rotting PC whose keys are as stubborn as age-old blocks of ice in the freezer, listening to a blast of Parokya’s poignant melody, killing the hours innovating my friendster profile like it would make any slightest difference in the world, pouring my idiosyncratic thoughts into this bloody blog, skiving off my class and lying to my mom that I went to school although, truth be told, I only had a short walk in the town proper to look for a decent computer shop to while away.

I escape from reality, run away from its sickening entrails of cruelty and bitchiness, blood and all, and ponder on what I would do next the moment I resign from being an academic bummer dependent on my about-to-be-crazy mother’s dole outs like a blood-voracious leech.

Gawd, just for a short length of time, just for two hours, I want to be alone and philosophical, I want everyone - friends, kins, foes, and beggars - to leave me alone. I want not a single friggin’ thought of problems bothering my already deteriorating gray matter. I just don’t want anyone, not a single soul, sticking some ugly devil’s fork up my arse for a moment.

So I think and think and think, like I’m a freakin’ descendant of Plato or some other Greek idlers (wait a sec, was Plato a Greek?…whatever!). I think about my future, what I’m going to do after I haul my arse up that hell-of-a-school, what’s going to happen to mom and Sean the moment they give me that scrolled paper.

Allow me to make a digression… Why does everyone have to toil for that, anyway? A man shouldn’t be judged according to how many of that fuckin’ paper he has. If you’ve got brains and you know you’ve got the talent, in spite of being deprived of proper schooling, then who are they to tell you you’re not worthy of any decent 9-to-5 jobs out there? Who are they to tell you they’re smarter just because they have that wretched piece of rolled paper tucked in their sleeves and you don’t? Puh-leaze! I hate society’s norms but I can’t do anything to defy it… Because I’m poor and helpless and jobless and I don’t have any gold to turn the ugly tide…

So I think I’m going to work after graduation. Be a slave of the burgeoning call center industry and fatten away my arse telling dumb people what to do with this and that. God I can’t believe ignoramuses abound in numbers…But it’s good. In some way. Because I get to keep a nice-paying job (a thousand bucks a day for being superior and for telling people how utterly idiot they are? haha…) out of it. I know it doesn’t have anything to do with the course Ive taken but hey, to each his own, mind your own business. I’m not pushing you to jump off some politician’s name-extolled bridge so don’t tell me what to do and what not to.

My friends say I should first try to review for the CPA Board Exam, what with all the impressive goodies stuffed in my head. That I’ll be wasting this God-given adroitness if I get stagnant keeping my arse rod-hot in a swivel chair with a fuckin’-shit-sonuvabitch Western accent.

Sometimes, I try to think about that myself. Gawd, I studied Accountancy because I wanted to be an accountant, not an overpaid, bored blatherskite. When I think about how I could apply all the stuffs I learned in school, when I think about myself having to balance some accounts, having to audit San Miguel Corp or maybe Ayala’s conglomerate, I feel that it should be the path that I should be rightfully coursing through. But all the financial worries of my mom bring me back to my senses. (All because of her “butterflying” over a bunch of nice-paying jobs…But that’s another story. And I might as well write about that at some other time.)

I appreciate the concern of my friends and some other people advising me the same thing but it’s hard to deal with the matter when you’re an immature, lackadaisical guy who has to bring food on the table and worry over your sister’s education and your mom’s welfare all because you’re good-for-nothing father (God bless his soul!) left you and your mother and sister to cohabit with some other scarlet woman! (Nonetheless, the grudge is under the bridge now, I’ve learned to forgive and forget and if I ever have the chance to meet him again, I’ll act like a son whose longing for a father could very well be augmented by a hefty heir fortune…haha…Just kiddin’).

So I act like a big man, mature and responsible in every way, and say, Thank you for the empty words but unless you can give me 30,000 grand every month to pay off my mom’s debt and take care of my sister’s schooling, then God bless your soul, no hard feelings, no offense meant, but Im sticking to being a brown-skinned talking machine with an American twang. Until a person could give me a valid reason that may well defy logic and reason, I don’t have no choice but to be a slave of some Occidental service-providing company. And if that person is still stubborn to insist on what he thinks, I’m going to shove the devil’s fork up his arse and give him my own piece of logic: starving proletariats with the three-letter title after more than half-a-year or untitled yuppie with a sister secured of her schooling and a mother looking half her age because she’s finally debt-free?

Make me!

*Penned this a few months before I finally graduated from college. While majority of my classmates were contemplating about their post-college lives as Board reviewees, I was more concerned over earning big bucks after leaving college. All of my friends and professors advised me to review and to take the Board and thought that I had a good chance of excelling the test. I would have told them I’d really love to but my sister’s education was far more important than my review. So I chose to be a call center whore. Tough luck. Oh and no, my birthday is not October 18.