Someone asked me, "What matters to you?" I told him two things matter to me. Purpose and meaning. He smiled and went on with asking some other few questions. I wish I had told him why.

Purpose and meaning.

I guess to these two words hung my very core. Take away these and I will be nothing. It is why I fall in love, march through the streets, go to work, and wake up every morning. To these two words lie the foundation of my faith, of my causes and my struggles. You take away meaning and I become relativist. You take away purpose and I become a mere product of evolution and chance. I pity those who say they love someone yet does not believe in a great design to which this humanity is brought forth. I pity those who fight for equality yet say there is no God, I wonder what will become of their struggle.

Meaning and purpose. I hope that my generation will not lose these and become good sounding freethinkers with empty words. That is why I join the parliament of the streets without divulging into Marxist idealism. That is why I uphold the dignity of life and morality. That is why I continue to love the same person everyday in faithful commitment. I struggle to fill meaning and purpose to my words and actions. Because I am not matter plus time plus chance.

I missed blogging. Or is it the friends I made here that I actually miss? I think it’s one and the same. I promise to be active again.

My current financial status is like that of the nation. But God never abandons his favorite sinner. I guess it's all a matter of how I deal my relationship with Him that he still doesn’t leave me empty. For whatever it is that keeps me alive and surviving, I credit it to God's grace. For who can survive a happiest summer without a generous payslip from the capitalist employer? When savings vanishes like the national budget, friends did not leave me. I cannot wait for the day that I would repay them for all their generosity.

That is my younger brother. I am glad he likes his school and his course. I hope we can talk in sign language soon or exchange some good book review :) See, even my poverty we can make a big change in someone's life. Haha.

I like to think that God breaks us to make us whole. Or if not, he breaks us so we can be everywhere that wind would take us. So we be that little piece of hope to someone else. With little that we have, still significantly paying forward.

It was May and the term has just ended. My first year in the seminary was extremely memorable and fun. I went home with all my books and clothes, leaving nothing of a trace that I once stayed there. She was wearing her usual smile when she opened the gate, she didn't know I was expelled.


There is a Visayan lullaby about a mother buying bread. I could still remember former days of waking up and finding the bed next to me empty. And there at the gate, just before the first light of the day hit our glass window, she would be entering with hot pan de sal in brown paper bag and some nice breakfast.


Ili-ili tulog anay. Wala diri imong nanay. Kadto tienda bakal papay. Ili-ili tulog anay.


It was that same May of three years ago when she went on. Just some few days before I turned seventeen. That was really heartbreaking, seeing your mama wait for you from a long day just to have a company to hospital. She didn't want any other else to bring her. She wanted me. And wanted me late.


Many relatives say I am so like her. I could talk and think with the same nobility and brilliance she possessed. That flatters very very much. After all, I like it. I am a Mama's boy.


Three years after, I would still want her back sometimes. I know there is more life after her and I have moved on. Afterall, she has moved to her loving God.


If Nimmy, Leomer and Louie find my perkiness overwhelming on my first Bachetto night, I think they have caught a glimpse of what type of mother I have.


Mama, wherever you are, stay there. Do not visit me or I would be a screaming shit. I am fine and I have good friends. I cannot send you flowers. Please do not send me one or I will be screaming hell. I am well and I profoundly remember our memories. I love you. Happy Mama's Day.


---------------------
Oh, Happy Mother's day too to my Ate and Amma!

(This is for as partial fulfillment to the subject Kane harassed me to write about but I gladly did. LOL)


Saturday night. Rainy. Three boys waiting for me to join them. Apparently, stupidity kicked late. I never thought there will be a twin bar in Ortigas. Half hearted and half drunk, I went to the one nearest to me. Sorry Kane, next time I will know better.


I wore heavy perfume. Whore-y.


So my rite of initiation began when I hailed a cab to bring me there. It was past two thirty. I remembered Alicia Keys when she sang these streets will make you feel brand new, big lights will inspire you. The lights were bright. Ultra bright to be exact. I thought to myself this is where my taxes go. I laughed to the idea. No, this is not New York. This is Malate.


So the boys who will perform the rite of initiation picked me up. Jap and Aaron are fine bloggers. Fine 'nuff said. We took seats on a karaoke bar before going to the bar. I had fun listening to the beefy man who sang Whitney Houston. He deserved a half-standing ovation from everyone in the bar. They asked me to sing which is the last thing you will ask me of. They are adamant  and so insisting that it left me no choice but to think of a song to quack. I sang Next in Line. I dedicated it to highschool boys who will go after me on this place. I wish them luck. Real good luck.


After finishing my Glee-ish song performance, we went straight to Obar. Opening the door, I got blinded. No, not because of the neon and par lights. It was the crowd that overwhelmed me. Talk about overpopulation.


Several men would tease me to dance. I didn't plan to meet any other else there. I just want the feel of it. Like smelling flowers in a park. My guardians who supposed to block me from strangers and what nots decided to isolate me and do their own dancing and all that is in between. So the next sentences is about the plan screwed up. Yes ladies and gentlemen, after twenty minutes of shy dancing and corner standing without looking at anyone in particular, boy meets boy. I met his gaze and he met my accidental smile. I never knew how to do formal introductions in bar setting so to my relief, he told me his name. It is Sam. Nineteen like me. Studies in San Sebastian. Fairly good looking. Okay, cute it is. So I have a dancing buddy now. Err, more than that to be politically correct. He told me that he was in the same karaoke bar and saw me when I arrived. I told him that I cannot recognize because of my nervousness. We had good talk about his ex who cannot move on and was dancing in the other bar.


We partied til five am, did occasional kisses blah blah blah. Sam asked for my number which I gave with hesitation. So my guardian brothers asked me to wrap the night. What happened in Malate stays there said Jap. No dears, nothing happened to us after the party. He came by in the afternoon and had good conversation. See, this is me keeping my virtues. LOL


That day, I believed in subjunctive history.


I have met a fine boy in a party. I do not know if I still have M. God knows if he still reads my blog. Whichever, I am not ready for anything yet. Not just yet.


So I think I passed Clubbing 101. Let's see if Clubbing 102 next semester is something to look forward to. Or should I really have to take that too?


(Wink.)

Remember what I always tell you? I love you and I will tell you everyday. Everyday until you forget the things that hurt. I am keeping that promise till the day you are finally ready to overcome your fears and sadness.

You are the first person I am in love and ready to introduce to my friends. You are also the first to know this blog, its secrets and shits. The night we spent together was pure and silent. I want to wait for you I said. I know you remember that.

When I put my school baller around your left hand, I told you that true love really waits. I didn't believe in that formerly. But when I wrapped my waiting around your wrist, I realized love really waits. But I don't wait for the time I tell you. I'll meet it.

You asked on your wall: do you know what's worth dying for??... I guess I know what is the answer. You.

Yes boy. You. You are worth dying and living for.

The good about training is that we start all over again. After sudden turn of events that we have no control of, I learned that, from observing my co-trainees' resentment and reactions, there are two types of person who are in the stage of "moving on".

There are the loud people. They are the ones who, in order to cope with loss and regret, resort to ranting and remembering. They keep on reminiscing the old times, the good happy ones. They repeat the words and the scripts they have remembered by heart and succumb to the nostalgia it brings. These people move on fast because after letting go of personal hatred to public, they brave to take the next phase. It's more like when the wounded washes his wound in the sea.

And there are those who move on in silence. They resent of course but they deem it unnecessary for the world to know how broken they are. No Facebook shoutout, no bitter GMs. They just sit in the recovery room, patiently waiting for the body to heal itself. They said these people move on after so long. But I think not. These are the people who already accepted change and have made themselves ready for another phase of what ever is next.

Hearts don't break even. Some may take a short time to find love or another interest while some may take moving on to the grave. We aren't made to be same in that area I suppose, in that "moving on" thing. So whenever we lose control of things after a sudden event of letting go, one thing is for sure: Moving on is, deeply necessary.

It's the second day of the training and I do not hear any ranting in the training room or sulking in one corner anymore. Everyone participated in the charades. I guess call center agents are trained to encounter loss and transition in fast pace. I think that is one good thing I can be thankful for.

The song tells it quite perfectly: Where do broken hearts go? Can they find their way home?

From the nowhere I used calling home, I wandered the streets trying to hide the evidence of a word fight with the righteous person inside the house. There were a lot that day for me to bear. And sometimes, to save your sanity, things should be half remembered.

This is what passes when a boy grew up and finally becomes a man.

Sometimes, I wonder why I could only write when I am sad. Maybe, just maybe, it is because all that I should only write is what is profound. So forgive me, bored readers.

All I want was to be happy that day. Just that. To visit the long gone parent, to remember. On mornings when you just arrived from call whoring, you do not have enough energy to shout or to complain. I am never good at fighting so I never start one. I just slip away if necessary. So I do not start a fight. All I want is to be happy that day. To remember. Very simple. I want to be happy.

Once I complained to Kane why some people could hoard happiness. I just really wish happiness is tattoo- ever there, black and permanent.

I only want company with them, no things more than that. If a brother refuses company because he will visit the grave the next week with his girlfriend, fine. But if a father tells you he does not want to come because he does not believe to the teachings of the church about the dead and that he prefers watching action movies, fuck. That's when you start to fire the first war shot. You can do many things when you are mad. I only did two things. I rant and cried. More often than not, we rarely use proper reason and argument with people close to your heart. Because we use our heart so you may only hurt them much.

That was what happened. That was not planned.

Good thing friends are always handy- ready to accompany you anywhere, any time of the day, where a single family member would not dare to join you.

Pictures, they say, make us remember. I only remember how angry and pitiful I was to myself for the very first time.

When I grow up. Swear. I will never be like you.

From where I am sitting right now, there is neither a bottle of beer or a cup of coffee. Maybe, just maybe, I missed the train on platform nine and three quarters.

Sometimes, happiness is cheap. And sometimes, even with all the savings you have, you do not know if you can ever afford it.

It started with the attempt to understand bekimon slang in Atenean accent. On our way to the wake of a very good friend's mother, I did not miss how he, and they, comfortably talked in the gibberish and witty way. From then I realized who a man is to judge others.


So the usual condolences upon arriving. The usual sopas at zesto juice. The usual talk about which are's and who is's. From the chismis I got depressed with our parish priest's attitude towards the poor and dead. If I would consider his pathetic action as a priest, I could have gone atheist as of yesterday.


Faith, sometimes is a curious thing. And sexuality too.


I argued with W how convenience affect one's choice of belief. He is a good Catholic boy who knows his Hail Mary and Our Father. But during the conversation he told me that he is considering a more direct approach to God, without the old and boring traditions that is Catholic. I told him well, if you that would make you more of a Christian and closer to God, go ahead. But if what triggers you to jump over is because a religion does not conform with your personal wants, sexual orientation or view of what is moral and immoral, I think you are missing the point.


Personal stand points should always be considered along freedom, it should be the measure of reason because reason is relative to the application he said. Freedom is not doing what you always want I told him. It's doing what is humane and just in universal point of view. Religion is my favorite tee shirt which I would wear even if so worn and washed. If only people would think that Church an old runner trying to keep up with the pace of our times, no one would jump off the fence just because his homosexuality is considered abnormal or because she is in favor of condom and genetically modified organisms.


But it does condemn he blurted.


You know what keeps me grounded amidst all my religion's shits and that? The fact that there are more things greater than what meets my eye.


There was a short silence. Then I don't know the reason why we laughed so hard after. What I know of is W understands.

---------------------------------------
That is why we "study religion." That is why we listen
to sermons on Sunday and read Catholic book and
periodicals. It is all part of what we might call "correspondence"
with God. It is all part of our effort to know him better,
so that we may develop a love for him, grow in love with him,
and preserve our love for him.
-L.J Trese, The Purpose of Man's Existence

Alam mo nung umaga na pumunta ako ng Vito Cruz para mag-lunch kasama mo kasi sabi mo vacant mo ng 9:20 - 11:30 AM, todo effort akong gumising umaga. Dapat alas dyes ako gigising dahil alas onse ang oral exams ko kaso dahil sabi mo libre ka at pwede naman akong mag-extra mile sa relasyong ito eh gumising ako ng alas otso. Alas dos ng madaling araw ako nakauwi sa bahay galing ng opisina nung araw na yun. Spell effort talaga diba?

At nung dumating ako ng before ten na naka-polo with chinese collar sa Mcdo sa harap ng CSB, akala ko nandun ka na. Tama, blue ang checkered polo ko and naka-black pants with black shoes ako sapagkat oral prelims ko sa epistemology. Huli ko na nalaman na 10:30 pala ang tapos ng klase mo. Pero dahil mahal kita, naghintay ako sa Mcdo at nagreview ng mga questions na pwedeng itanong sakin ng prof kong sira-ulo. Imagine andaming batang taga-la salle sa paligid. Di ako makapagconcentrate. Tumunog ang cellphone ko at tinatanong mo kung nasan ako naka-upo dahil di mo ko makita. Heller, nasa likod mo lang kaya ako.

Tinanong kita kung anong kakainin natin. Sabi mo kumain ka na. Okay, so anong oorderin mo? Gusto nya daw ng pink McFlurry at pink McFloat. Kaya umorder ako ng pink McFlurry at pink na McFloat. Dahil di pa ko nag-aalmusal, umorder ako ng cheeseburger meal. Pagdating sa upuan, bigla mong inannounce na kailangan mong bumalik sa press room kagad sabay abot sakin ng dalawang issue ng pahayagang la sallista. Gusto kong kumunot ang ulo pero dahil mahal nga kita, tinanong na lang kita kung nasan sa magazine na yun ang likha nya. Infairness, okay sa olrayt ang drawing mo ng icon ng UE Red Warrior. Ikaw lang ang nagdrawing na anime inspired.

Umikot ang usapan natin sa pagdodrowing mo para sa pahayagang plaridel at kung paano kayo nahihirapan sa pagpoprodyus ng isyu dalawang beses isang buwan dahil sa paglalapat ng lay-out. Naishare ko lang naman sayo na ang Kule ay lingguhan kung maglathala at ang pinaka mahirap na parte siguro ng pagpoprodus ng isyu ay kung paano hahanap ng pambayad sa publishing house. Di ko maakila na maganda ang papel at kulay ng plaridel. Di din naman ako nagmamayabang na wala sa kalingkingan ng Kule and pahayagang plaridel pagdating sa laman at kalidad ng editoryal. Totoo yun. Buti di ka na umangal at inaway ako.

Labing walong minuto lang ata tayong nagkaharap habang kumakain pagkatapos ng isang buwan nating di pagkikita. Papasama pa sana ako sa'yo bumili ng regalo sa MOA kasi alam kong freetime mo kaso di ako pwedeng humarang sa tawag ng pamamahayag. Eh nagmamadali ka kaya. Sa labing walong minutong yun, nakabaling lang sayo ang paningin ko maski umuulan ng maaamong mukha at singkit na mga mata sa paligid. Para akong scanner slash xerox machine sa pagtanda ng itsura mo at kung pano lumubog ang pimpols mo sa lalim ng pamatay mong dimpols. At nung saktong tapos mo nang nguyain ang huling piraso ng french fries, niyaya mo na kong lumabas at kailangan mo nang bumalik. Hinatid kita sa gate ng pamantasan mo, nangakong magpapakabait at dumiretso sa istasyon ng tren upang bumalik sa diliman. Saka lang bumalik sa isip ko na may exams nga pala ako.

At ngayon naman dahil prelims mo, di ka naman nagpaparamdam. Kapag nagtatanong ako, madalang pa sa regla ng bakla ka magreply. Ako naman ang sinusungitan mo. Ano ba to, karma? Sumasakit migraine ko.

Gusto kong sumigaw o kaya magtampo sayo pero di ko magawa. Gusto kong sabihin sa'yong yamot ako na mas matagal pa ang byahe ko kesa sa pagkikita natin. Gusto kong magreklamo kung bakit kapag may investigation ka sa akin eh nagrereply kagad ako pero kapag ako naman ang nagtanong eh walang napupuntahan ang tanong ko. Alam mo kung baket di ko magawang magreklamo at magdemanda sa barangay? Di ko ma-explain pero alam ko kung bakit. Ewan. Sarap mong lasunin.... sa pang-unawa.

Sa dinami-dami ng kailangang isipin araw-araw, dumagdag ka pa. Pero sa lahat ng problemang nakalista sa notebook ko, ikaw ang masarap hanapan ng tamang sagot, kasama ang formula at solution equation.

I could sing you a lullaby while stroking those soft hair of yours or hum like the birds outside when I see you with eyes closed. You are not some ordinary person and waking up in the middle of a good night's dream feeling your hand under my head is completely forgivable. I actually like it. It's almost like winning the lottery.

We are sleeping on a friendly bed, it was neither cold nor warm. The room smells of strawberry and tequila, reminding me of my first trip in Trinidad Valley two years ago. I could write long and sensible sentences back then. Today, I sit on the couch near the window to write in silly grammar.

This day will end soon and I want to scribble some words before I go to sleep alone again come the night.

What is distance?

How near to reality is a dream? When you see your self in a dream, does that really mean that you are there? If yes, how is that suppose to mean? If not, then why does it sometimes occur that you feel the same emotion in the dream when you wake up? When we dream that we cried, we wake up with tears in our eyes. When we dream that we played under the rain, we wake up soaked and wet. How can we describe this becoming of ideas that solely exists in our minds?

Waking up with you by my side is a beautiful dream, so near to reality  that I am feeling your body next to mine, your hand tapping my back in a gesture of reminding me that I shall not fear, my head so close to your heart, yet so distant because we are bound to two different realities.

Do you remember our talk about divinity? I was tipsy when I was discussing to you the reality of God and the problem of religion. You listened and reasoned well with that signature wide smile of yours, nodding in every convenient ideas I say and raising questions on the difficult ones. We talked about ironic human condition and economic realities. I cannot remember what was the joke when you suddenly fell on the floor. I helped you stand. We were giggling like jejemons.

Or is it the actual distance that separates us? We are inches away from each other yet it will take a complete earth's rotation to reach you. To come near you will mean crossing timezones and borders. It means covering some forty million kilometers of land and sea, travelling on the exact proportion of time elapse that would take a complete planetary rotation so as not to miss you on the exact moment I left to come to you. See? I even did the math which I hate. You read this and you know how much I want to pick you out from that world of dreams to my imperfect world.

Do you know about the movie Inkheart? In case you do not, it is a beautiful story about a man and his daughter who has a unique ability to read out characters from the book. They are called Silver Tongues. It's like reading aloud a story and letting the characters join the human particular world thus, becoming. Things will be much easier if this is our case. I will just search the world to find a Silver Tongue to read you out from the favorite fairy tale I read or, to let him read me in so as I will be in the same world as yours.

While I am writing these random words, you are peacefully sleeping as if you are in your mother's womb.

I wish I could spend my every waking up like this.

 Her life was a perfect mix of enthusiasm, vibrancy and delight. She could have been forty eight this year, probably busy panic buying school supplies and uniforms or spending long hours in swimming lessons with Papa. Of all Tolentinos, she was the only one who cannot swim, an irony for having a professional swimmer as spouse. She was the PTA president of my little sisters' classes since they started school. An activist during the heights of the Marcos regime, she continued to defy conventions on her own grounds until her last breath.

 She was a Gabriela Silang. She had been on local news several times, either embracing a ballot box as if its the single most important thing in her life or as an interviewed protester against illegal demolition in the 90's. She was poor and has the dignity of a well educated woman. She has an unshakable faith and is very good with morals and ethics. She is the brightest person I ever know, a woman full of light, a woman for others.

Monday night.

I was strolling down the well lighted sidewalks of Tomas Morato looking for a bar where I can drink down all the unnecessary problems in my mind. I don't know how to describe the emptiness I am feeling. My thoughts are in clutter these past days and drinking alone in a place where I am a total stranger is a proven remedy. I have done this many times in two years but this particular night wasn't friendly. The sky was starless and it was windy, signs that it might rain. The chill of the May wind touches my face and legs as if touching my soul. The plan was very clear: get drunk, grab a cab when tipsy, go home then hit the sack. I got drunk that night. But I was not alone.

Blangkong nakatingin sa matataas na gusali at billboards ng Ortigas, bingi kong pinagmamasdan ang mga umiindap na ilaw sa labas ng opisina sa kabila ng tawanan at maiingay na boses ng mga kasama sa opisina. Mas maingay ang katahimikan sa puso ko.

At ang kalungkutan, daig pa ang nagpapa-alam na araw sa pagsasabing ang araw na ito ay natapos na naman at isa pa rin akong talunan.

Kung tutuusin, wala namang pinagkaiba ang pagtalikod at pagharap sa pighati. Parehas pa rin itong matatawag na katapangan.

Hindi ka dapat umiyak. Bawal.

To us, family means putting your arms around each other and being there.

-Barbara Bush

Yes, after two years nag-family outing ulit kami. :)

Personal request ni Amma na magpapicture sa malaking havs. haha. eksena ng buong resort lola ko when she played with the waves.

Pop ang Hana enjoying the pool. All of us learned to swim thanks to his throw-and-kick-and-float lesson of when we were still kids. My father was a Certified life-saver of Red Cross before he became a full time life guard of Manila Peninsula. Of course you know that he is now a bummer. lol

Eliza and her boyfriend, kuya Jun. My eldest sister loves taking pictures, boasting of her new dslr. Looking in her bags, she found out that she forget to bring it. Kulang na lang, halughugin nya ang buong van. Andami kaseng dalang kung ano-ano tulad ng tatlong klase ng sun block, mga sun glasses, beach shorts, havainas float, mini rice cooker, books, and lotsa foods! Haha. So ayun, nakuntento kami sa kanyang cellphone. Epic fail pero super enjoy pa din :)

 

Camwhore ang pamilya ko kaya lunod ang mga facebook accounts namin ng tagged pictures. Mula sa tita kong prof sa letran at feu na madalang pa sa mag-pasa ng estudyante kung mag-facebook hanggang sa nine years old kong kapatid eh active sa pag-comment sa mga pictures. haha

I am glad that my family have moved on from my Mama's passing that after two years of emotional longing and brokeness, we have found each other full of radiance and light ready to face a truth that future would still be fun without her. Ito na marahil ang opisyal na pagtatapos ng pagdadalamhati ng aming pamilya at ang simula ng pagharap sa mas matingkad na mga posibilidad. We became more open to each other that we even talked about my younger brother's girlfriend na dinala nya sa bahay isang araw. I am glad that we have learned and grown up. Haay, I wish Mama was with us laughing and enjoying the uber sweet spaghetting pambata. haha

Ma, wherever you are, I want you to know that I am trying hard to be a real good brother and a better person. I will not disappoint you. Never.

We will go to you one of these days. See you soon.

Hindi na kami lumayo sa aming bayan dahil ang init sa daan. Ang mga larawan ay kuha sa 8 Waves Waterpark and Hotel, San Rafael, Bulacan.

The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life.

-Richard Bach

+AMDG

Kung may isang tao na hinahangaan ko ang prinsipyo, diskarte sa buhay at paniniwala sa pagkakaibigan, isang tao ang hihigit sa pamantayan at tibay ng marami.

Si Romeo. Isang kaklase, confidante at kaibigan.

Apat na taon ko ng kaibigan simula highschool, ako ang una at isa sa iilang tao na nakaka-alam ng buo nyang kwento. It was in senior year when I got to know him. Being the first honor of his junior class III-16, he got a spot on the elite section to which I belonged. Until now, I still wonder how we became close. Ako isang aktibo-aktibista, perpetual representative ng batch since first year sa student council, chill at maingay habang sya ang isang uri ng estudyanteng pinaka-ayaw ko: tahimik, masipag at ubod ng sipag. Myembro sya ng notorius group nung 4th year kasama ni Bartolome (ang kaklase kong isang bulate na lang ang di pumipirma), Denmark (CAT officer na may prublima ang dila) at Cyril ( ang kaklase kong may natatanging ngiti: parang one seat apart). Sila ang counterpart ng Placenta Boys, ang grupo ng mga lalaki sa section namin na malaki ang paniniwala sa sabon at pulbo.

Atchwali, mahiyain si Romeo kaya malamang ay lasing ata kami o sobrang busog sa pancit canton ng makwento nya ang buhay nya. Sa Tacloban ang childhood setting ni Romeo. Isang dosena ata silang magkakapatid kaya dahil sa hirap ng sitwasyon ay kung ano-anong shit ang natutunan nya. Sa edad na labing tatlo, pumuslit sya sa barkong papuntang Pier ng Maynila. Umiiyak na yata ako nung nagkekwento sya kasi nakalimutan ko na ang lahat ng detalye basta ang alam ko, napasok nya halos lahat ng pwedeng pasukang raket para mabuhay at makakain ng dalawang beses isang araw. Sa edad na labing pito, nakatakas sya sa maruming kalye ng prostitusyon at nakahanap ng legal na trabaho. Magsasampung taon na yata sya sa dorm na tinitirhan nya.

Bitter si Romeo sa pamilya nya pero sa pagdaan ng panahon, hindi nga yata maalis sa isang taong may bait sa sarili ang prinsipyo ng pagiging bahagi ng isang pamilya. Sadyang napaka misteryoso ng buhay ooh.

He believes in education more than anyone I have met in my life. In the days when none of us is giving a thought on what exactly we want life would be, Romeo would tell me that he will get a degree in Banking and Finance, be a banker, fly to Vienna and settle for there good. I cannot remember if I was able to ask him why of all places, he picked the Austrian city. Years passed and we would meet occassionally over a family sized pizza, some cold bottle of beers or several plates of pasta to talk about our studies, the phony industry we belong, his thesis proposal and the dreams. Nito lang nakaraan ay first time kong nakitang humagulgol ang tado. Basted. Haha. Akala ko talaga nun nag-suicide na sya.

 Romeo has already established his life. Talo ako sa pustahan ng mauna syang makabili ng laptop mula sa sweldo nya sa industriya kesa sa akin. Habang ako ay babalik sa pag-aaral sa pamantasan sa diliman, aakyat sa entablado ang kaibigan ko ngayong linggo pagkatapos ng pag-aaral ng tatlong taon para sa isang regular na 4 years degree for Banking and Finance. Kasama ng isang highschool friend, kaming dalawa ang sasaksi sa graduation rites nya. Hanggang ngayon, natatawa pa din ako kapag naaalala ko nung binigay nya samin yung ribbon for parents at yung kopya ng grad pic nya. Secretly, I am very happy that he will be graduating. My highschool friend is one step closer to his plans and dreams.

Plano sana naming magpunta ng Puerto Galera sa katapusan bilang treat nya sa sarili . 25th birthday na din kasi ng loko. Plantsado na ang lahat ng detalye ng makatanggap ako ng text sa kanya. Na-diagnosed ang nanay nya ng breast cancer, stage two. Sobrang malaking dagok na naman ito para sa kanya pero alam kong sa relasyon lang si Romeo umiiyak. At bilang mababait na kaibigan, pinili na din naming wag nang tumuloy sa galera maski nakabili na ko ng ultra cute na beach shorts upang matuloy ang operasyon ng nanay nya. Babawiin na lang namin sa matinding kainan, alak at matinding laughtrip ang lahat (:

Ang problema, parang si pareng Erap at iba pang presidentiables (o si erap ba talaga ang problema? haha). Babalik at babalik ang mga ito para subukan ka. Para mang-asar. Para tignan kung ano ang magiging reaksyon mo sa mga challenge na ibabato nito syo. Pero kilala ko si Romeo.

Kampante akong kahit anong mangyari at kahit ilang Ondoy ang gumulantang sa buhay nya, kaya kaya. Sya pa.

Tagay.

+AMDG