It's TGIF and it always makes me feel good to prepare for dinner as I am with my boyfriend. (Usually on weekdays, I find it convenient taking my meals at Ate Liza's Cafeteria.) I feel zesty whenever this day comes which is extremely the opposite with how my students feel. Most of them don't show up online. That means more time for me to attend to my proclivity to blogging. (Thanks God) (Sigh) I can't wait for the weekend to come.
Every Friday, it has been a tradition (LOL) between me and my boyfriend to buy a kilo of rice at a nearby store and cook it ourselves. We just love stuffing ourselves with too much carbs but we dont' think the next meal is the end of the world.
So, I decided to go to the store and I had to pass by the guards post downstairs. I was looking at the familiar guard stationed.
"Do you use a mop in your office?" He asked. The hell, why would he ask such a question in the first place?
"Yes," I replied and I felt strange.
Then, he went. "Don't tell the administrator you do, a mop fell earlier from the upper floor. He'll surely get mad at you 'coz his car was hit by the mop."
"How could you postulate that was our mop in the first place just because it fell from the upper floor?" I asked with the surging pressure in my blood. "Can I see it?" I continued.
He led me to the store room and pointed to a mop with exploited fibers.
"Excuse me, we regularly change the fibers on our mop. That certainly looks cheap, thus it is not ours." I chucklingly said and I know that wasn't me. But that's how I get along well with "Vaughn"-the guard downstairs in his late 30's.
I left right away for the store.
I don't know but teenagers find excitement in their misadventures. They want to be domineering as possible. Understanding and communication are always the last resort. Whenever they feel they are aggravated, reprisal is likely the initial response.
One of our hangouts many years ago then was to gather in group at a particular place in the neighborhood. The place was private and we felt more freedom there from the nagging of our parents.
One time, Noel, one of my closest friends invited me out for some drink. It was one of our friends' birthday. They drank, we drank, and we split from the group. We obviously felt bored as the night progressed. Though we were already in spirits, three of us sneaked out of the hangout and went to town to continue the fun.
Noel, Harry and I went to a bar catered to folk, rock, and country music lovers. It so happened I met some friends in college. They were the same people I worked with as a News Editor for our school publication not until I dropped out.
When everyone was pickled and tipsy, Noel invited Harry and me to go out and buy some cigarettes. I told him I didn't have to go with them, I'd rather wait inside while talking with some college acquaintances. But Noel ejected me out of my chair saying that we went to the place as a group and we should leave as a group.
The moment we stepped out of the bar's patio, we were caught off-guard with multiple attacks from several youngsters outside. They all started batting and hitting us here and there. Some had bats, some had knives, and some had bats with attached knives.
There was a stir, I could hear the sound of jabbing and physical attacks. I never knew until I was left behind crying and pleading for help. The attackers had gone and so were Noel and Harry. I sat in one corner of the bar outside. I knew I was safe and I was drunk. I was crying. I was alone.
A few moments later, I felt some pain in my back. I started to move my hands, pressed them against my shirt as I felt some wetness, then viscidness. I moved to where the light is and then I freaked out. My white shirt turned bloody red and so were my hands.
I rushed back to the bar and asked my college friends to take me to the hospital. I was starting to get sober. I didn't feel weak though much blood gushed out of my system. I never imagined a small spree would put my life in jeopardy. I was so young and full of dreams.
The KNIFE used to stab me according to the doctor was a semi ice pick, had it not been two centimeter away from my lung, it would have plunged me to death.
As for Noel and Harry, I had the impression that they were recreants but we met again and we each had a story to tell.
Whenever I feel the urge to smoke, I go to my room, grab a pack of cigarette I usually lay on the table inside, take out my lighter if there is or go the kitchen-like area in the office and get the matchbox. It pisses me off when a lighter I buy disappears shortly and is nowhere to be found. I must be very careless and forgetful that I can't keep a lighter for more than two weeks. I have to buy a lighter every now and then.
So if missing my lighter irritates me, how much more if I have run out of cigarettes? There are times, I crave for cigarettes at past midnights and I have no choice but to control the addiction. Most of the time, "Manang" saves the day.
I call her "Manang"-it is an honorific vernacular to refer to older women. Manang is from Capiz, a town notorious for evil creatures or "aswang", the Philippine version of vampires as portrayed in movies. When I first saw her, she caught my attention one rainy afternoon. She was trying to fix an umbrella she just picked up from the garbage to keep herself from the rain. It was last year when I got the chance to to learn more about her life and the people behind it.
"You are from Capiz?" I asked in awe.
Rumor has it that there are indeed a lot of evil creatures in the town and I want to hear it directly from someone who hails from that place.
"It's a word of mouth sir, but I have never seen anything yet. I was born there, spent some years but I had to settle here in Manila when I married Boy."
Boy is her husband who works as a valet. He has been working for the same building where our company is located. Imagine, he receives, less than 200 dollars in a month. He always crosses his fingers some drivers and tenants would be generous enough to give him tips to get through.
They are a common sight everyday. They work hand in hand no matter how meager their earnings are to support a family of six. Manang tends a small space where she sells cigarettes and some candy. She is my survivor when I really have no money.
I don't know but I feel happy whenever she tells me she makes some earnings in a day and is able to send some to the country. She is saving up for the construction of their shelter in Capiz where they plan to settle for good. So far, she already has bought a tricycle to add to their livelihood once they go back to her hometown.
"Sir, life here in Manila is not what I expected. It is really hard. I am glad that you pay your debts on time but I am worried that a lot of workers here in this building who owe me cigarettes and they disappear like bubbles." she once told me with a sigh.
Manang takes out an old notebook from an old bag which looks like a rubbish. I see a lot of items listed under the names written. They are clearly written as mine but she just starts crossing out my name. I am cleared. She looks at me and smiles.
On weekends, we would go to a friend's house, drink, sing, watch TV, smoke, and that's all. Our closeness and sometimes being intimate elicited doubts and suspicions from among our neighbors but we had to ignore them.
One time, I decided to enjoy the company of some friends. They were singing, drinking and smoking. They were in a certain abandoned house in the neighborhood. I was shocked to see Arlene smoking for the first time. She was a highschool student and she was the daughter of a nun whom I have considered as my own aunt because she was my dad's close friend.
They knew I never smoked in my life though I had had my taste of gin and beer. I had never been pickled before though the first drop of alcohol on my palate welcomed the start of an addiction.
They seem to be having fun as they were trying to make circles while puffing cigarette smoke.
"Hey,come on try it, it's fun," Arlene said.
"This is her first try but she can make circle smokes, you can also do that," another friend added. I HESITATED...
I am human and as a teenager I was so gulliblle and naive to reject enticing desires. The situation was a concoction of curiosity and peer pressure at the same time. I gave in though I remember vehemently abhorring smoking when I was younger. How could people just burn their money into ashes and make themselves sick by exposing their lungs to smoke? The hypocrisy in me was unfolded, or was it a weakness?
Nicotine is addictive...
We were enjoying dancing and singing some disco songs while the others were playing bowling. I was dancing and gamboling in one corner of the bowling place with two of my newfound friends who also happened to be gays. They were older members of the club though. I was a newbie.
An old woman in her 50's after hitting strike turned her direction to us. She came nearer, smiled at me and initiated a small talk.
"Are you gay?" she asked.
"Yes." I replied.
"I thought you are straight." she added with some unexplained smile in her face.
It was not a smirk, as I immediately felt comfortable talking to her. That was the first time our paths crossed. Who knew she would be an important part of my life?
The other day, she kept sending me text messages asking if I could watch her game in the bowling tournament.
"Hi, Miss Universe, happy birthday! Come and watch me for the tournament and I will treat you some beer if you really insist and some appetizers too." That was her message.
I had to turn her down though her idea was inviting. I had had another appointment with my other friends and I didn't want that to be compromised.
It seems that she is still confused with my personality. Sometimes, she would call me a son and sometimes Miss universe. It doesn't really matter to me whatever she wants to call me. Though honestly, I feel I have long hair when she thinks I am the most beautiful woman on earth (LOL). I am happy with the fact that she treats me so dearly to her heart. Since then, I have thought of her as one of my guardian angels, a surrogate mother while I am away from home.
I have had happy moments with her. She showed eagerness in knowing all the details in my life. When my boyfriend just arrived home from abroad. She was quick to remind me that I would have to introduce him to her. We ate out then and it was her treat.
She was one of the few people who first responded when I got diagnosed of hepatitis. She is truly a blessing. She is not my mom but it is sweet to belong.
Last year, I was in a hurry to claim my backpay from the call center I had worked for. In my hand was a piece of brown envelope which contained some documents needed to complete the requirements being asked of me before the release of the money. In the other was my phone. I went to the road, hailed a bus to get there. I must have been very excited and in a hurry that I jumped on the bus as it was taking off. Unmindful, I never thought that my cellphone would be gone for good upon getting off the bus.
It took me several months before being able to buy a replacement. My parents worried that much as well as my brothers and my sister. Hmmm, not sure though whether they worried because they could no longer contact me if they needed money, or worried that I was gone for good just like my cellphone?
Back in my hometown, I once lost my Sonny T-Ericsson phone because I slept on the road side under the overpass downtown. I was dead drunk. My student who also happened to be my roommate noticed I was often gloomy after classes and he sensed I definitely had gotten used to texting after work. He pitied me and lent me his phone for a while. That's when I met one of the special characters in my life.
Last year, my boss gave me the best cellphone I ever had. When I was addicted to gambling, (Thank God, that addiction is now a part of my memory) I had to pawn that several times. I have stopped gambling yet my phone seems to be rotten again in the vault of the pawnshop.
Now, I use one of the oldest models of NOKIA phones. This is the kind of phone I first had in 1999. The cellphone and my life and their congruence... Life is a cycle, it is inconstant. Who knows?
She was there yesterday. I wanted to talk to her, deeply, really. When I first saw her there at the tennis court, she was with the daughter of my older brother's rich boss. She smiled at me and as usual, I saw the face of a young girl which I have always been proud of. She was out of my sight for more than five months. In the last three years of my life, I just saw her twice. She just turned ten years old the other day.
I was so happy to see her, but outrightly saddened by the fact that she had to leave my mom and my dad. If I were her, I would have done the same. My parents just couldn't give her a birthday party. Just like her, my parents never threw me a party once in my entire life. Not that I could remember of. They'd rather buy a few kilos of rice and third-rate meals to support the huge family they raised.
How my sister missed and yearned for that, I should know. Out of the ten years, she rarely had a birthday celebration at home.
She was eating some chips with her newly found friend. They were having a real good time as they were singing some childrens' songs. I asked her how she was and she said she was ok. She quickly told me to buy my mom a pair of jogging pants so she could take them with her when they go back home. Our hometown is a six-hour drive from Manila.
My sister was a little timid as usual but starting to be more sociable. I felt happy but a little scared. I have seen children my sister's age here in Manila and I can clearly see the difference of urbanized upbringing from that of a rural one. There was some fear in me. She is the only girl in the family, reserved, respectful, and sweet, and I just worry a lot about her.
I heard from my brother that it was his boss who gave her a party the night before. Again, I was so delighted but there was some twinge of jealousy in me. How I wanted to take her with me to the mall yesterday, perhaps have her a train-ride experience, or go to the zoo. She hasn't had these experiences yet. I should have bought her a gift, instead but I didn't, thinking that we could go out together that day. I failed but was a little satisfied to see she was doing well and enjoying her short stay in Manila.
I left when it was dark, around 8:00 p.m. I was looking for her, I wanted to say goodbye and see her for the last time before I departed because December can't just wait, but she was gone. I just felt sorry, I never initiated to invite her out, she must just turn me down. She must have been enjoying the company of her newfound playmate.
Walking on my way home, I looked at my wallet. The only one thousand-peso bill was there (about 20 dollars). "Could this buy, the tens of pens I kept promising her before? Or the colorful notebooks and pair of rubber shoes I didn't give her? What about the girl scout uniform? And the stickers? Maybe, I should try harder next time."
There must have been thousands of times I doubted his existence. I always seem apprehensive if he is a reality. Is he there? Does he really know I exist? And if he does, does he always see me? He must know every minute details about me. They say he is omnipotent. Do I really have to care if he seems unresponsive of my needs? Or maybe, I just think of these because of my selfish nature...
Why do I tend to get rid of him in my thoughts when things turn out to be bad, when things don't go my way? When all things seem right, do I even care? I don't even bother to go to church anymore these days. The idea of him is just perhaps inveterate, ingrained...
I doubt, I believe, I doubt and I believe again. It has been a cycle. I am sad, I am happy, I am in trouble, I am ok.
Why do I feel guilty when an infirmity sinks in me? Why is my faith always my consolation when I feel helpless? When things go my way, I don't thank him. I am ingrate, I should admit.
Waiting, waiting, and waiting for me. Though I have doubts, he is just there I know. I should be in a hurry.
Adria has these pics that speak a thousand words, paisley has these numerous secrets and counting, Vienne has this blog which serves as the repository of her eavesdropping. That made me think I should come up with something new then. And so here it goes.
"Characters In My Life" is a blog about the people and personas who have shaped my life. The people who continually affect my lifestyle directly or indirectly. It is an outlet where I can share everything about the lives of people who continue to inspire me and the things that add meaning to my life. I am glad I have finally come up with a collection of people and things that will help me discover more and reminisce the complexities and the realities of the thing we call "Life."