It's a Conspiracy

i.

I was at home, practically drooling over the smell of KFC wafting from my neighbor's unit, so I decided to pass by KFC for lunch before attending my Theology 131 class. On my way to KFC (which was a 2-minute walk from my condo), I encountered two pairs of deaf-mutes/mutes conversing in sign language, which was quite unusual, considering that I've only come across a single mute person in the Katipunan area in the three years I've been staying here.

Anyway, I got to KFC, ordered myself a chicken steak (yes, I know I'm a cheapskate), and settled at my usual second floor table - the one overlooking Katipunan. As usual, there was a group of tambay goons seated right across me. After wolfing down my meal, I started reading the required Theology readings (a totally fallacious treatise on masturbation; but I preempt myself, more on that later). To my surprise, the group of goons seated near me started conversing in sign language, and after a while they began laughing with these weird soundless laughs.

I swear, they were talking about me. The guy who did most of the "talking" kept on glancing at me, and kept rubbing or pointing to his scalp, as if to say "... the bald guy over there." And his friends kept on laughing their weird, disconcerting laughs. I'm not discriminating or anything against the disabled, but that was just plain fucked up. Anyway, I couldn't concentrate on my reading, so I went out for my usual post-meal cigarette. Surprise, surprise - as soon as I lighted up, another group of mute goon-looking people started up an animated conversation near me. I just found it plain weird, so I hurriedly finished the stick and got a trike to Ateneo.

ii.

Apparently, St. Thomas Aquinas believed that masturbation was worse than rape in the eyes of God. His reasoning: rape, while gravely wrong by itself, is a natural act because it occurs between a man and a woman; masturbation, on the other hand, is un-natural because it is an extreme perversion of the procreative functions of our God-given genitals. But don't chimpanzees, and other primates with reversible thumbs, masturbate in the wild? Methinks that's primal enough to call natural.

Think about it - life would be so much more interesting if rape were indeed less a sin than masturbation. Rape me now, girls! Haha.

True to Life

I dug up yet another work from my missing Filipino 14 portfolio. This time it's a very short story.

Enjoy :)

LRT
isinulat 3:45 PM ng Marso 16, 2004

4:30 ng hapon. Umaalingasaw ang init sa lansangan; parang mga langaw na nakadapo't nakadikit sa malalagkit na katawan ng mga taong-grasang nakahiga sa mga bangketa ng Taft Avenue. Doble ang init at lagkit na nararamdaman ng mga taong nakaupo, nakatayo, nakasabit, nalulunod sa loob ng LRT. Hindi makahinga si Jonat; halos wala nang hanging mahagilap sa loob ng gumagalaw na sauna na ito. Kung makahinga man siya, halos masuka siya sa fiesta ng amoy na bumabati sa kanya: panis na sigarilyo, bawang at sibuyas, tuyong pawis, at bangkay na nabubulok at inuuod sa ilalim ng lupa.

"Putang ina. Ang bagal naman ng tren," isip ni Jonat. "Kailangan ko nang bumaba."

Hipo.

May naramdamang kamay si Jonat na nakapatong sa puwit niya. "Putang ina!", isip niya. "Patay sa'kin yang gagong yan." Lumingon siya't pinagmasdan ang mga taong nalulusaw sa paligid niya - di-umiimik na batang nakakapit sa inang tulog; pagod na manggagawa sa pagawaan ng sapatos; kulubot na mukha ng matandang (babae/lalaki?) na malapit nang mamatay. "Nasaan ka? Nasaan ka? Magpakita ka, putang ina.", sinigaw niyang pabulong.

Tumigil ang tren sa Gil Puyat. Parang bato si Jonat sa gitna ng dumadagsang dagat ng mga taong pababa at pasakay sa LRT.

Hipo.

May naramdamang kamay si Jonat na nakapatong sa puwit niya. Hindi ito inalis. "Putang ina!," isip ni Jonat. "Patay ka sa'kin ngayon." Lumingon siya at tiningnan ang maliit na kamay na nakadikit, nakadapo sa puwit niya. Sinundan upang makita ang may-ari - maitim na braso; malagkit na katawan; malibag na leeg. Nakatingin sa kanya ang isang unanong nakangiti. Bungi. Panot. Balbasarado. "Putang inang buhay 'to", isip ni Jonat. Tinitigan lang niya ang unano.

Tumigil ang tren sa Vito Cruz. Nagpadala si Jonat sa dumadagsang dagat ng taong pababa sa LRT.

4:45 ng hapon. Umaalingasaw ang init sa lansangan; parang mga langaw na nakadapo't nakadikit sa malalagkit na katawan ng mga taong grasang nakahiga sa mga bangketa ng Taft Avenue.

My Birthday

I don't usually post surveys/blogthings, but I found this a bit nice.

Your Birthdate: February 19

You are resilient, and no doubt your resilience has already been tested. You've had some difficult experiences in your life, but you are wise from them. Having had to grow up quickly, you tend to discount the advice of others. You tend to be a loner, having learned that the only person you can depend on is yourself. Your strength: Well developed stability and confidence Your weakness: Suspicion of others Your power color: Eggplant Your power symbol: Spade Your power month: October

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Jeffrey Brown

... is this guy who keeps sketchbooks with comic strips depicting scenes from his life. They're a bit like diaries, only so much more candid. Mostly they're about sex, relationships, and growing up. And well, he publishes them as graphic novels. I don't really understand why.

I've only read one of his graphic novels (Clumsy) and I totally loved it. It was heartachingly honest and awkward and heart-warming all at the same time; somewhere in the middle of the book I actually felt ashamed to continue reading on because I felt like a voyeur. If you liked Craig Thompson's Blankets, you're going to love Clumsy even more.

Here's his website.

And here are a few pages from Clumsy (click on them if they're too small):

Life Lessons

At long last, I can say that I applied something I learned in high school.

There I was, studying for my Theo131 midterms, when Cacao came out of the bedroom to ask me if I knew how to change a flat tire. Of course I did - flash back to Automotive T.H.E. classes: cleaning spark plugs, jumpstarting dead batteries, and changing flats. So we trekked down to Burgundy Plaza's basement parking to Kia's car at 1:30 AM; it took us a little more than 30 minutes to change the front left tire.

What a workout. Three cheers for Sir Rey Miranda - for soldering scars, greasy fingers, and sweat-drenched undershirts.

Be Careful What You Wish For

2004 was the most productive year of my life in terms of the sheer quantity of the written works I churned out. I had this really funky professor for Filipino 14, you see. His name was Vladimeir Gonzales (try googling him, I think he has a couple of short stories online), and while other sections were taking up Public Speaking or Grammar (balarila in Filipino - somehow I never really liked that word), he put us through a semester-long creative writing workshop.

One major requirement of that subject was to submit a portfolio of written works at the end of the sem, compiled in one small notebook. I took the project really seriously, being the angsty, idealistic freshman I was then, so I think I could say that that notebook contained the most personal, most honest works I've ever written at that point in my life.

Now, the sucky thing (and the inspiration for this entry, actually) is that I somehow misplaced the notebook after it was checked and returned to us at the end of the sem. I'd give anything to get that notebook back and just browse through my old work, but despite my efforts I just couldn't seem to locate it. So anyway, by some stroke of luck, I was cleaning up my desktop and came across this essay I wrote for the subject.

Here's the unedited essay for your consumption (pardon the awkward Filipino, and the grammar and punctuation errors).

Somehow I was so innocent back then.

Ang Alaala ay Panaginip ay Alaala

Minsan sa may kalayaan tayo'y nagkatagpuan
May mga sariling gimik at kanya-kanyang hangad sa buhay..
"Minsan" - Eraserheads

Ang mga alaala ko’y makipot, malapot, malabo - parang mga panaginip na totoo habang tulog ka ngunit hindi na mabalikan pagkagising sa umaga. Ang mga ito'y parang usok ng sigarilyo na nakikita't naaamoy ngunit hindi naman mahagilap tuwing susubukan huliin. Bumabalik ang mga ito nang pasulpot-sulpot, sa mga oras na hindi ko aakalaing bibisatahin ka ng nakaraang halos hindi ko na makilala. Dumadating ang mga punto na kung minsan ay hindi ko na alam kung totoong alaala nga ang aking binabalikan o isang panaginip, o kathang isip, mula sa malikot na imahinasyon.

* * *

Ang mga alaala ay ang mga panaginip ng taong lasing.

Halos tinanghali na ako ng gising kahapon, at sobrang sama ang aking pakiramdam - pagod, masakit ang ulo, at masagwa ang lasa ng bibig. Unti-unting bumalik sa akin ang gabing nakaraan, kasama na rin ng pagbalik ng aking tamang pag-iisip: nandiyan ang di-mawawalang beer at ang malagkit na itim na upuan; ang mga gumigiling na babaeng nakangiti at ang mga umiikot na ilaw; at sa kasukdulan, ang nakakasilaw na puti ng banyo at ang pamilyar na amoy ng aking kama. Halos naririnig ko pa rin ang mga ipinatugtog noong nakaraang gabi.

Ang problema lang ngayon, hindi ko na malaman kung alin sa mga ito ang totoo, at kung alin ang kathang-isip ko na lamang - kung alin ang mga totoong alaala, at kung alin ang mga panaginip na dala lamang ng serbesa. Sa di-mabilang na mga umaga na katulad ng umagang iyon, sabay-sabay na sumasayaw sa aking utak si Mister Kabab, si Marlboro Man, si Aubrey Miles, at si Grimace, sa walang katapusan na pagpukpok ng tambol ng puso ko.

* * *

Ang alaala at panaginip ay tulad ng Fuji apple na nalimutan sa loob ng ref hanggang mabulok na.

Dalawa sa aking mga kauna-unahang alaala ay galing sa isang Kiddie Party sa McDo noong mga anim na taong gulang pa lamang ako. Mukha akong tumatalon na bola na malakas ang boses, at daig pa sa kakulitan si Dennis the Menace. Ang gawain ko noon sa mga party ay ang pagtakbo palibot sa kuwartong ginaganapan upang kolektahin ang lahat ng mga lobong nakatali sa mga upuan at mga dingding, upang huwag silang putukin ng ibang mga bata. Ngunit wala ring silbi - tatawagin lamang nila akong sugapa at aagawin sa akin ang lahat ng mga lobong pinaghirapan kong tanggalin ang buhol. Noong panahong iyon kasi, kinakausap ko ang mga lobo, at kinakausap din nila ako. Pinaka-ayokong mga laro noon ang Pop the Balloon at ang Balloon Relay, dahil para sa akin ang malakas na pagputok ng mga lobo ay ang huling pag-ungol ng mga biktimang ito. Habang tuwang-tuwa ang mga batang mamamatay-lobo sa mga larong ito, nakaluhod lamang ako sa malayong kanto ng kuwarto nang nakapikit ang mata at nakatakip ang tainga. Ayokong marinig ang mga sigaw nila.

Hilig ko din gawin noon sa McDo ang paghabol sa mga mascot. Ewan ko lang kasi, pero aliw na aliw ako sa mga mascot, lalong-lalo na kay Grimace. Pakiramdam ko kasi, kamukha ko siya. Hindi naman sa mukha akong higanteng kamote o mabuhok na ube noong bata ako, pero alam mo yung pakiramdam na iyon - ako siya, at siya ako. Ipinagtagpo kami ng tadhana. Ngunit hindi yata alam ni Grimace iyon. Isang beses, tinalunan ko siya kasabay ng mahigpit na yakap sa braso. Nagulat naman ako, dahil sa halip na yakapin din niya ako, napabulong ito nang malakas, "Tanginang bata ka!", kasabay ng hampas ng mabalahibo at kulay-ubeng kamay.

* * *

Ang ala-ala ay boses mula sa panaginip, na kahit na anong gawin ay hinding-hindi na maririnig muli.

Hindi ko na maalala ang boses ni Pong Pagong. Nakakabadtrip, siya pa naman kasi ang paborito kong karakter sa Batibot, at siya rin ang pinakapaborito kong mascot sa lahat. Ang guwapo kasi niya, lalo na kapag katabi niya sina Kiko Matsing at Kuya Bodji. Gusto ko nga noon magkatuluyan sila ni Ate Siena - bagay sana sila. Basta, naaalala kong mataas, at hindi maintindihan, ang boses niya; hindi tulad ng boses ni Kiko Matsing, na magaspang at tunog-rapist.

Takot na takot ako kay Kiko Matsing noong bata ako (at hanggang ngayon pa rin ata?). Doon sa Batibot lang ako nakakita ng bansot na unggoy na mas maliit pa kaysa sa pagong. At siya na rin ang pinakapangit na matsing na nakita ko sa buong buhay ko - mukha siyang echas ng matsing. At ang boses niya - Diyos ko! - ang boses niya'y nakakatindig-balahibo. Nagkakabangungot pa ako noon dahil sa mahiwagang boses niya. "Ate Siena! Ate Siena! Tingnan mo! Ang laki ng Titik O!".

Ang dami ko talagang natutunan sa Batibot. Bukod sa Makabagong Alpabetong Pilipino at sa pagbilang, doon ko nalaman na walang perpektong sitwasyon sa mundo - laging patas lang. Kung mayroong lalaki tulad ni Kuya Bodji, mayroon ding babae, si Ate Siena. Kung may alpabeto, mayroon ding mga numero. Kung mayroong cute na Pong Pagong, mayroon ding sobrang pangit na Kiko Matsing.

Salamat talaga sa Batibot; ibang tao siguro ako ngayon kung wala ito noon. Sobrang laki ng naging epekto sa akin nito na minsan napapakanta na lang ako bigla ng, "Pagmulat ng mata, paggising sa umaga...".

* * *

Ang mga alaala at panaginip ay mga kantang umiikot sa isipan na tutugtog na lang bigla tuwing hindi inaasahan.

Bawat ala-ala sa isip ko ay may karugtong na kanta o mga kanta. Pati na rin ang mga panaginip ko'y kadalasa'y may kanta ring tumutugtog sa background, parang telenobela o kaya nama'y isang episode ng Maalaala Mo Kaya. Dahil dito, sobrang dali para sa akin ang makaalala ng mga nakaraang pangyayari tuwing nakakarinig ako ng musika. Kaso lang, kadalasan, nagiging parang music video ang nagiging porma ng alaala, kung saan nakikikanta ang mga tauhan sa loob ng eksena sa mga salita ng kanta, o kaya'y pasulpot-sulpot naman ang bandang tumugtog ng kanta. Minsan pa nga'y nagiging parang videoke ang itsura ng alaala, kung saan lumalabas ang mga salita ng kanta sa bandang ilalim ng imahen habang tuloy-tuloy ang kuwento.

OPM ang karamihan sa mga kantang nakakabit sa mga alaala at panaginip ko. Nandiyan ang Rivermaya, Eraserheads, True Faith, Parokya ni Edgar, The Dawn, Hotdog, at siyempre, Siakol. Sila ang mga kinakalakihan at nakasanayan ko sa aking formative years - noong ako'y 8 hanggang 13 na taong gulang. "Formative years" ang tawag diyan, dahil ang panahong iyan ang siyang magpapanday at magbubuo sa pag-isip at pagkatao ng isang nilalang. Noong tumanda ako, nadagdagan na rin ang mga bandang tumutugtog sa isipan ko, ngunit OPM pa rin - ang Hungry Young Poets, Barbie's Cradle, Mojofly, Sugarfree, at kung anu-anong mga banda na naririnig ko sa NU 107.5.

Kung ang ibang tao, may photographic memory, ako siguro, may musical memory. Ako yung tipo ng tao na kapag nakarinig ng kanta'y sisigaw ng, "Pare! (Pamagat ng kanta) 'yan a! Mems! Naaalala mo noong...".

* * *

Ang mga panaginip ay parang mga kanta sa gitara na malilimutan mo kung paano tugtugin, ngunit bigla mong maaalala tuwing nagjajamming kayo ilang taon na ang nakaraan.

Malaking porsyento ng aking oras sa hayskul ang kinuha ng musika. Ako yung tipo ng taong hindi mo makikitang walang hawak na gitara - mula silid-aralan, hanggang canteen, mula kotse, hanggang mall, mula inuman, hanggang kama, halos laging bitbit ko gitara ko. Hindi naman sa magaling ako tumugtog - isa ako sa pinakabano mag-gitara noon - pero lagi kong nararamdaman na may kanta para sa bawat okasyon. Hayskul ito: Mamaya-maya'y may inlab na binatang magrerequest ng "Pare Ko" ng Eraserheads, o may babaeng humihingi ng "Himala" ng Rivermaya.

Nariyan din ang pakiramdam na hindi ako mapakali dahil may kantang hindi ko kaya tugtugin - na kailangan ko kaagad kapain. Sa dami ng mga bagong kanta noong hayskul ako, lagi akong di-mapakali at praning.

Karamihan sa mga pinakamagaganda kong alaala noong hayskul ay kahit papaano'y naaalala ko sa gitara ko. Noong third year hayskul ako, tinuruan kong tumugtog ang best friend kong si Arun (na ngayo'y nasa DLSU na) ng simpleng kanta. Nang huli kaming magkita, halos malampasan na niya ako sa galing (ngunit hindi sa kaguwapuhan). Naka-ilang "gig" na rin kami niyan ni Arun: dose-dosenang mga debut, classroom jam sessions sa harapan ng teacher, jam session sa tabi ng main road, pati na rin sa mall at coffee shop. Kapansin-pansin sa aming dalawa na parehong laspag-sira na halos ang mga gitara namin, at na pareho kaming hindi marunong kumanta. Kaso okey lang sa amin yun - ang musika ay musika. Iyong mga araw na iyon siguro ang iilan sa pinakamasayang alaala sa buhay ko.

* * *

Ang alaala at panaginip ay parang pagsakay sa bisikleta o kaya ang pagmaneho ng kotse - akala mo ay nalimutan mo na kung paano ngunit biglang babalik sa iyo kapag kailangan mo.

Bukod sa gitara ko, ang kotse ko ang isa pang bagay na madaming binabalik na alaala. Tulad din ng gitara ko, halos linaspag ko na yung Starex na iyon sa dami ng beses na tinakas, hinarurot, at binangga (sa mga hindi gumagalaw na bagay tulad ng bato, pader, pedestal, atbp.!) ko ito. Ika nga ng kaibigan ko, "warcar" daw ang auto ko.

Simula nang natuto ako magdrive noong third year hayskul, ginawa na akong transpo ng bayan. Dahil ako lang ang may dalang malaking kotse, ako ang sadyang naging tsuper ng "schoolbus" patungo sa mga gimik namin. Noong umpisa, hanggang Alabang Town Center lang ang mga lakwatsa namin, dahil malapit sa eskwelahan. Paglipas ng panahon, palayo nang palayo ang inabot namin: Glorietta 4 at Greenbelt 3, Robinson's Galleria, Podium, Rockwell, Eastwood, Tagaytay, at Subic. Iilang libo na ang inabono ko sa diesel na hindi pa nababayaran ng mga nakikisakay sa akin, pero okey lang sakin. Masaya naman e. Pagtagal, natutunan na rin namin gawing inuman ang likod ng van tuwing wala kaming ibang lugar na puwede inuman.

Ngunit hindi lang ang mga gimik namin ang naaalala ko sa kotse ko. Kung alam ko lang sana na mas madali manligaw tuwing may kotse ka ay mas maaga sana ako natutong magmaneho. Ngunit totoo - sobrang plus pogi points ang dala ng pagdala ng sariling kotse sa mga date at party. Ang dami ring puwedeng gawin sa loob ng kotse: turuan ang kasintahan magmaneho; makinig ng radyo; at humiga at pagmasdan ang mga bituin. At alam mo ba - magiging parang kama na halos ang Starex kapag hiniga ang lahat ng mga upuan nito!

Masasabi kong sa loob ng Starex na iyon ako unang natutong umibig. Doon ako unang nagkaroon ng kasintahan; doon ako unang nakatikim ng matamis na halik; doon ako unang nakaramdam na may mahal ako at may nagmamahal din sa akin. Ngunit, doon rin ako unang sinabihan ng babaeng mahal ko na iiwanan na niya ako para sa ibang lalaki. Parang mga panaginip na lamang ang mga alaala ko mula sa panahong iyon.

Ngunit okey lang. Kampante akong may darating na ibang babae - ibang babae na uupo sa tabi ko at tutulungan akong lumikha ng bagong mga panaginip at alaala. Ang tagal nga lang niya.

* * *

Wala na akong mga bagong panaginip ngayon. Wala na akong tulog sa dami ng aking mga ginagawa sa kolehiyo.

Wala na akong mga bagong alaala. Pare-pareho lang ang nangyayari araw-araw; walang namumukod-tanging mga pangyayari na may karapatan maging mga alaalang itatago.

Minsan, tuwing napapaisip ako, hindi ko na nakikita ang pagkakaiba ng aking mga panaginip sa aking mga alaala. Hindi ko na alam kung totoo nga ang mga nangyari sa akin sa buhay ko, o gawa-gawa na lamang ng aking mapaglarong isipan. Ayaw ko nang isipin - lalong dumudulas ang katotohanan habang humihigpit ang hawak ko dito.

Siguro, pareho lang talaga ang dalawa, o kaya'y laging magkasama. Parang Kiko Matsing at Pong Pagong.

Ang alaala ay panaginip ay alaala.

Horny Bastards... err Bitches

There I was, peacefully chatting on YM, when a swarm of flying ants suddenly decided to crawl over me.

FYI, flying ants are young queen ants off from the nest to find their drones and get fertilized. After their orgy, they lose their wings, drop to the ground, and start their own nests. Touching, really, but these crazy-ass horny bitches decided to fly their way up to the 15th floor of my condo and bug me. And believe me, I am pissed.

Thus:

Jay: ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
kichivm: okay ka lang??
Jay: ARGG
Jay: binubugahan ko ng yosi
kichivm: haha
kichivm: umalis ba?
Jay: ayaww
kichivm: spray cologne
Jay: haha i tried foot spray
kichivm: haha
kichivm: did it work
Jay: THEY WENT CRAZY
Jay: godddddddd
kichivm: haha
kichivm: gross man
Jay: lighter tska cologne :D
kichivm: tama un
kichivm: cool!
kichivm: did u try?
kichivm: i wanna try!
kichivm: haha
kichivm: lighter and glade mas masaya!

tathaniise: WAHAHAHAHAH
Jay: ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
tathaniise: mga minions ni simon!
Jay: gago sinisprayan ko ngayon ng foot spray
tathaniise: WAHAHAHAHAH
tathaniise: gago ka pala e
tathaniise: baka lalo lang maturn on yung mga yan
Jay: nde bumibigat cla
Jay: tpos binubugahan ko ng yosi
Jay: haha
Jay: lighter tsaka cologne
Jay: bwahahahahaa

dyeykster2000: quick shout for help from the seniors!!
dyeykster2000: ;;)
Jay: HELP ME SENIORS
dyeykster2000: ahihi
dyeykster2000: you are adorable jonats :D
dyeykster2000: hahaha
Jay: mwah :*

jinnipot_06: HAHAHAHAH WTF. okay ka lang?
Jay: HINDI
Jay: PUNYETA
Jay: ngayon nasa floor na silang lahat
Jay: bagong walis condo namin
jinnipot_06: hahahahaha
jinnipot_06: kawawa :P

In the Drunken Transition between the 7th and the 8th of December, 2005

the smoke flutters into the air like
a hummingbird with one wing
from the balcony where we are talking,
over beer, of past lives, lost loves, and beauty.

maybe stars are where hummingbirds are laid to rest.

a belated post.

New Year's Day: On Thanksgiving and Fresh Starts

i. Lessons

They say that New Year's Day is a time for looking back – for appreciating old (and new) friends, for being thankful for the blessings you’ve received in the previous year, for learning from the mistakes you made, and for remembering the events you made immortal in the form of the memories you kept, the stories you told, and the moments you shared with other people.

I'm going to start this post with an understatement: the previous year was not a good one for me. If you're curious, the only three that actually were are 7th grade (1998) - the most memorable, 3rd year high (2001) - the most successful, and my 2nd year of college (2004) - the happiest. Last year, to put it lightly, sucked while I was going through it, and in hindsight, it still sucks. But as New Year's Entries go, I guess I just have to plug my nose, put on my flippers, and dive feet-first into the cesspool that was 2005.

I can describe my experience of 2005 in three words: I grew up. It rhymes with "threw up", and it sure feels like it too.

In 2005:

I gave my best, and failed - dozens of times, believe me.

I trusted people, and I was betrayed, and yet I trusted again.

I loved - my God, did I love - and got my heart broken so badly that if you could’ve seen it, it would probably have been nothing more than a beating clump of clogged arteries, venal blood, rose petals, and pieces of glass.

I mourned with those who had lost loved ones, and mourned for one of my dearest friends (I miss you Ate Rej).

I got drunk, and I got high, and I got sick.

I failed, and I fought on - fighting the battle of those who had everything to lose.

I had a childhood dream shattered, and woke up in a cold sweat from a lot of new nightmares.

I lost my best friend, and rekindled relationships with old ones.

I got hurt, and disillusioned, and desperate, and I almost lost hope in life. And more than once, I wanted it all to end.

And yet, at the end of it all, I found that I had grown up, and I had survived. And most importantly, I had learned.

I learned, for instance, that there are different kinds of friends: there are "friends" - 'nuff said, and there are those people who you come across once or twice, and yet leave a permanent mark on your life; you have friends na pang-classroom lang, and friends na pang-inuman lang; you have your childhood friends, and you have your high school friends; and there are FRIENDS, who you'll be stupid to ever let go of. And I learned to value these friends - they are the Godsends who will celebrate with you when you're at your utmost best, will see you through your very worst, and will not be afraid to tell you when you are fucking your life up. Arun, Andrew, Kristina - maraming salamat.

I also learned to value my family - and God, do I love them. They took me in at my very weakest, nurtured me back to health, and loved me when I believed myself unlovable. And I swear – I am going to protect them with everything I could muster; God pity the person who tries to hurt them in any way.

I have learned to laugh – to laugh after failing a test, to laugh at myself, to laugh when I’m feeling vulnerable, to laugh out loud for absolutely no other reason than the fun of it, to laugh at the sheer absurdity of a situation, and to laugh after crying my heart out.

I have learned to cram, and to prioritize, and to sacrifice. I have learned to give without expecting anything in return. I learned how to make life-changing decisions, and to be responsible for their consequences. I learned that there are some things you just can’t do anything about, and that there are some things you just have to do something about.

Most importantly, I think that somewhere along the way I learned to hope again – to believe that things are still going to get better; to continue believing that if you want something badly enough, and if you try hard enough, you are going to get it; and to believe that people are inherently good and trustworthy. And call me a hopeless romantic, I still find that I continue to believe in love – all I have to do is look at my parents cuddling in bed, or holding hands while walking in the mall – and I swear, I want that, more than anything else.

I think… I have learned to live.

ii. Resolutions

They also say that New Year’s is for resolutions, fresh starts, second chances, and a new life. The weird thing about resolutions is that people often view them as goals that they have to achieve in the following year; rather, I think they're supposed to be formulated to resolve certain issues you had the previous year, or re-solve those that you weren't able to overcome. So here are my New Year's resolutions; and I don’t know why, but I’ve never felt this optimistic for the upcoming year.

Well, to start with, I think it’s time to fix my life again. I’m tired of my friends dragging me home from bars drunk every week; I’m tired of skipping classes because of spending the whole of the previous night thinking in bed; I’m tired of my roommates walking in on me, a wasted wreck on the sofa, and pitying me; and I’m tired of people asking me if I’m okay whenever I come into class with my eyes puffy.

It’s time to start over. For the third time in my life (and possibly the last), I’m graduating, and I’ll be damned if anyone takes my last year of school away from me. And such is my New Year’s resolution, if I was supposed to give just one: It’s time to stop taking things for granted.

It’s time to take my studies seriously again – and show those bastards what the old Jonathan was like, before he fucked up. It’s time to stop moping about not having gone abroad when I had the chance, and to start doing something about actually getting the chance again. It’s time to dream again – I still want that Ivy League MBA, more than ever before, actually – and believe me, I am going to do anything I could to get my grades back up. This time there won’t be any distractions.

I’m going to start seriously losing weight – after all, I do want to get to see my grandkids, and their kids. And I want to see the Philippines rise up from the ashes too. I want to see a cure for AIDS, and flying cars, and cities on the Moon.

Most importantly, perhaps, it’s time to move on. True, I never loved anyone as much as I loved her; never have I given so much of myself to another person; and never have I tried to be the best person I could for anyone else. True, no one else has inspired me the way she has – to write poetry and prose, to make music, to draw, to create, and to achieve; neither has anyone ever made me happier than she did. And I tried to be the best boyfriend, and the most perfect best friend I could for her because, well, I loved her. But something happened along the way, and I fucked up my life last year trying to find out just what that thing was – and now that I know what that something is, I realize that it’s not worth fighting for anymore. I’m actually starting to doubt that the whole relationship was, if the whole time she was capable of doing what she did. And so it all ends here. I honestly wish she and I could become friends again some time in the future, but I don’t think I could stomach it, after that. And so it’s time to move on. Thank you for the past three years, princess – it’s been a blast – and please take care of yourself, because I won’t be around to do that anymore.

And with that, it’s time to change. I think it’s time to stop using alcohol as an escape from reality, and as self-inflicted punishment for “the things I did wrong”, and to start using it to celebrate with friends, the way it should be used. And I think it’s seriously time to gradually stop smoking – I’m not getting any younger, anyway. However, I think long, interesting conversations with the friends I met through the habit are worth losing a few more minutes of my life for.

It’s time to travel around the Philippines, before we eventually destroy everything; it’s time to soak up the sun, and to lie wasted on the sand, all while listening to good old reggae and sipping Super Dry.

It’s time to meet more people, and to touch more lives, and to do what is right. And somewhere along the way, I hope to rediscover myself.

It’s time to enjoy, and to party, and to celebrate life! Cheers, people! Happy New Year!

iii. A Problem

I’m starting the New Year with a serious dilemma though – and after a few nights of thinking through it, I guess there’s no other course of action anyway.

I’m going to do what’s right.