surrendering some churva for a bit of chenes

(pls click here to find out how i spent my forty third year in two thousand and twelve.)

"in my youth, i was too busy making a living that i forgot how to live. i want to change that now," mahatma gandah. "anyway, i can always rely on the kindness of strangers."

it's raining heavily outside, as if there was a storm, and soon some streets were flooded, garbage floated like dead fish killed by too much pollution.

the weather just matched my mood. i was feeling the blues, and hopefully it would stay that way and not morphed into reds, heavy reds.

when i am blue, i usually just watch my favourite movies like the english patient, the age of innocence or before sunrise/sunset and i would be fine.

when i feel the mean reds, it gets worse. i have to go out, get really drunk and hunt afterwards. or else, i would sink into the depth of misery, while crazy thoughts would plague my beleaguered mind like throwing myself out of my forty-story flat and into the crowded streets. or jump into the welcoming arms of the sea, be carried away somewhere far, far away from this madness.

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at around eleven, my sister sent me a text message: let's eat at an eat all you can restaurant  to celebrate your birthday. i was hesitant. my thirteen year old nephew, her oldest son, was in the hospital because of dengue. his blood platelets had dropped to risky levels a few days ago.

instead of replying to her, i just continued lying in bed and soon i fell asleep. my nearly three year old nephew, her youngest still in diapers, woke me up with his laughter. he was lying beside me, watching his favourite show on cartoon network, mr. bean. my brother in law had earlier told me that seven eleven (my pet name for him - he was named agapito, like his father) was not yet able to speak well because he kept watching mr. bean, who hardly talked on the show. i suggested that he should encourage his son to watch kris aquino's show. he laughed.

when seven eleven saw me awake, he smiled at me and pointed to the teevee screen. i said, yes, i luv mr. bean too. i luv the fact that even if he hardly say a word, he made us laugh and helped us forget our troubles even briefly, unlike most people on earth. as if seven eleven understood me, he laughed out loud and rolled in bed.

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too lazy to take even a quick shower, i rolled some deodorant on my underarms, sprinkled perfume all over my body, applied wax on my messy hair and changed to a freshly laundered shirt, underwear and shorts. i felt clean. but i still felt a tad sad. the rains always bring out the blues in me.

$$$$$$

lunch was sumptuous (mostly filipino cuisine), but uneventful. seven eleven wanted to have his own plate. so i gave him one, even if his father did not approve. earlier, his father told him "no!" when he pointed to the stack of plates under the buffet table. seven eleven looked sour. sad. i had to carry him and gave him a plate to cheer him up again. i even asked him what food he wanted and put them on his plate. that cheered him up. i merited a kiss on both cheeks.

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after lunch, my sister took me to her family's dentist to have my teeth cleaned. i felt better afterwards.
as if in tune with my feelings, the rain had stopped pouring. the streets were a little flooded, but i didn't mind. i was wearing cheap flip flops anyway.  though my sister warned me that the dirty water might contain some disease causing germs. i just shrugged my shoulders. i didn't care. i have battled bigger wars in my forty four years on earth, why should i be bothered with a "what if" disease.

$$$$$$

from the dentist's office, i asked my brother in law to drive me to the sto nino shrine. when i stepped out of the car, the rain was pouring again. he tried to give me an umbrella, but i refused. at the gate, a filthy beggar was standing, singing alone. he did not bother me. i passed by him quietly. he smelled of the sun. too much sun and body odour. i didn't care.

the cathedral was nearly empty, except for three or four other pious people who were kneeling near the altar. i sat at the back and talked to whoever was in charge in heavens to please help my nephew recover, take good care of my old and ailing mother, keep my family and friends safe and in good health. i also implored them to please give me a new job, a new flat and a new lover (yes, in that particular order) as christmas and birthday gifts.

for the finale, i thanked him for all the blessings, big or small.

*****

from the cathedral, we picked up my six year old niece at her school and we drove to the hospital. at the  car, i was teasing her about her crush. she said he was absent. did you miss him, i asked her. she blushed and covered her face. ah kids nowadays. they want to grow up fast. please don't, i said silently, until the world has become a better, friendlier place. 

at the hospital, i was glad to hear that my nephew had gotten better. he was cheerful and he joined me in teasing his younger sister about her crush. it turned out, he was friends with the older sister of my niece's crush. small world? it is. especially mine.

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at night after dinner, i sat alone, outside of my sister's house, surrounded by flowering plants and orchids. they looked like lonely souls at night, crying for a lost love. i stared at the darkness. i was hoping for a moon, even truman capote's "skinny as a lemon rind" moon. but there was none.

it was only eight o'clock, but the entire subdivision was already quiet. i had almost forgotten that people in the province sleep early. the weather had improved. there was no more sign of rain. in fact, some stars appeared on the sky, keeping me company in my solitude.

the silence forced me to look back at the last forty four years and what happened. unlike in my previous birthdays, this time, i didn't feel anything. i wasn't sad nor happy. i was not depressed. maybe i was getting used to this. to this so called life.  the middle-aged life, weight gain, wrinkles, nostalgia, melancholy, and all.

sure, there were so many things to be thankful for. but there were also so many things that i thought were still missing in my life.

regrets, like the song, i had a few. who doesn't? the biggest of all was my failure to exert more effort to be close to my distant and cold father, to get to know him better, to draw out the funny side of him before he passed away. i knew he could be funny at times, especially when he was drunk. when he was drunk, his icy personality would melt away, and a lighter, happier him would appear. he would tell jokes, start singing and even go dancing.

but it could also go the other way. he could pick a fight with anyone, get his gun and threaten to kill anyone who would get in the way. his ill temper had kept him from me, from us, his children. even to his wife.

other than that, i had nothing else.

love you say? what is it, anyway? why make a big deal out of it? as tina turner once sang - what's love got to do with it? who needs a heart when a heart can be broken?

what you don't have, you won't miss. of course i still miss the company of another human being, especially on a cold, cold, rainy night. when even the soft pillows and thick blanket won't keep me warm. when even  the teen-age angst of winona ryder and ethan hawke or the wisdom, poetry and romanticism of gabriel garcia marquez and haruki murakami can't ease the blues and reds away.

the only consolation is i would always have my family and my friends to make me smile. these thoughts would somehow comfort me.

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as i grew older, i noticed that i have become more cynical. i have also become more optimistic. how can that be, you asked? how can someone be more cynical and be more optimistic at the same time? i don't know. but that's how i feel right now.

at forty four, i feel i have proven what ever it is that i need to prove, whether in my personal life or in my work. nothing much matters.  i no longer have the need to achieve more, to possess more. there is comfort in that. as long as i have a job that i love, it no longer matters even if i am at the bottom of the food chain. if my boss is half my age. if my peers and colleagues are already way up there.

ever since, anyway, i never compared myself to others. i am always satisfied with whatever small things that i have achieved.

in fact, at forty four, jobless, homeless and loveless, i feel good. contented. of course, it could be better. 

and it will.

that's all bitches, fairies, queens, pa-queens and princesses. sorry for the heavy musing.