Stories Of My Life
Born For Me and You: A Birthday Message
Twenty-three years ago, you were born, and I didn’t know or care about it. Of course I was three back then; I didn’t give a rat’s ass about who hopefully my soulmate will be. Many years later, after passing the age of sixteen, I still didn’t care about your birth, for I was too busy finding my soulmate in other girls, and despairing every time I lost the chance with each one. Little did I know that my running around in the fields of love was but a prelude and preparation to what I pray would be eternity. And it all probably began when you were born.
The idea of being born for someone is poetic, to the point of cheesiness. But even though pop songs and novels have reduced this romantic and spiritual phenomenon into mere cornballs, to me it’s still as true, powerful, and wonderful as ever. God’s fingers, weaving the threads of love as early as the womb, and binding the fate of two souls together – what a beautiful thought. But what is more beautiful is that God leaves it to the lovers to write their own tale, and my girl is a Pulitzer Prize winner at it.
Fate couldn’t pair me up with a better lady, for who I got is a beautiful face and soul and brilliant mind who leads a simple yet inspired life. She finds and cherishes the good things; she even makes a lot of them herself. And when struggles come along, she goes through them gracefully, as though she sings along with the tune no matter how sad it may be. Whims, she has a few, but they are not the center of her life. Dreams, on the other hand, she got them big and by the loads, all of which are noble. And last and definitely the most important of all, she got love, so much of it, and she shows it in ways only she can, for God, for her family and friends, and for me.
I am thankful for being a part of that love. And even if that ceases I will still continue to be thankful, for at least there was a point in time when I was a part of that love. But hopefully, with prayer, hard work, effort, and of course, love, that is not going to happen. I pray that I will always be part of that love, that the day when we will tie the knot and confirm that we truly are born for each other will come, and that not so far from today, we will celebrate not just our birthdays and monthsaries and anniversaries, but our marriage – and our love for each other and our future family – every day.
But despite all this talk about destiny and love, today is, first and foremost, your day. It’s the day you become a year older, a year wiser. It’s the day you look back at the tumultuous yet wondrous years behind you, and look forward to and set goals for the upcoming ones. It’s the day you reflect on the joys and pains that come with being part of the world – both the real one and of those who you love. And last but not least, it’s the day you celebrate not just what we have become as a couple, but more importantly, who you are as your own person; not just as my woman, but as a woman, your own woman. It’s the day you celebrate who you are now, and contemplate on what you want to do and what kind of person you want to be.
It’s your special day, you special honey you. I love you so much.
Happy Birthday and a Happy 10th Monthsary to us, Tsundere-hime. More birthdays for the one and only you, and more monthsaries and anniversaries for the one and only us.
My Eternal Summer: Forget For A Moment And Remember Forever
In the scientifically correct sense of things, it is the meteorologists who determine when summer begins. And according to our state meteorologists, it has been summer for almost a month now, maybe a few weeks more. But in my self-centered universe, summer has just begun. Its arrival is rather late as compared to the past years, but it’s never tardy, for it is my heart, not the climate, no matter how hot it gets, determines its advent. And yes, summer – no, Summer – is indeed here. She has finally come. I thought she won’t, and I don’t mind if she didn’t, but I’m glad she did.
For the past few weeks after summer’s official start, it didn’t feel like it despite the killer heat that has reached 42 degrees centigrade. I didn’t feel like going to what is summer’s greatest symbol and official mecca: the beach. There was no desire for pristine, soft, and fine white sands; for azure and crystal seas; for towering palms whose leaves sway with the cool summer breeze; and lastly and definitely, for beautiful and sexy summer girls, especially chinitas in two-piece swimwear. Maybe it’s because I have Berna now, the best girl I could ever be with and the best girlfriend I could have, so the sea of feminine eye candy, while still sweet on the sights, is no longer as succulent as before. And maybe it’s because I’ve been employed for only a month, so I’m not jaded enough yet to want coconut trees and coastlines in lieu of the palm streets and skyscrapers that line Ortigas.
Case and point: for the first time in my life, I wasn’t looking for Summer, and it mystified me. I wanted to want Summer, but the same bliss and longing she once evoked wasn’t kicking, and I feared that it’s because I’m growing old. Those hot feelings I used to hold for the season has been extinguished by age and worldlier, more “mature”, “serious” concerns – normie bull. That was until Summer came running to me, looking for me, like a woman wondering where her ever-devoted lover spirited off to, and why. Now she has found me, locked away in a world of work, words, smartphone and office glass, and games, so she, through the help of my friends and my girlfriend, has finally dragged me by the hand and started running, so I ran along with her, and what I thought were bygone emotions from a bygone era came rushing back like a wave.
Yesterday I was in Bakasyunan Resort in Tanay, Rizal. It’s a mountainside resort with a mediocre pool facing a mountain with windmills at the top. It was okay, good at best. And thankfully, something better will be coming along: Laiya, Batangas in May 7. Yes, the quintessential beach trip for some much-needed Vitamin Sea. And while the beach will forever remain as a slice of sandy, salty, and sunny paradise, it has been, thankfully, stripped of what I realized is a fun but nonessential element.
Girls. To me, summer is flirtation, the search for love, or at least the beholding and experiencing of womanly beauty, especially by the sea. And this year, things have changed, as I have already found a love. While there is still the novelty of the idea of checking out and getting to know girls on the beach, it has become rather insipid and infantile compared to what I have now. I’m not renouncing the fantasy that I thought was the greatest part of summer just to tell my beloved what I think she wants to read; she’s not the jealous type anyway. Rather, I’m saying this because it’s true: summer playing is nothing compared to summer loving. Oh my dream come true, to sit by the beach with the girl you love the most, with an Aya Toujo, full of loveliness, goodness, beauty, and emotional and intellectual understanding, looking at the world’s oldest waters, the most accurate physical embodiment of depth, mystery, and eternity, talking not only about love and our past, present, and future time together on Earth, but also of the higher things in life, that of and beyond the sociopolitical sphere, the human condition, philosophy, the heart and soul, nature – I don’t know; the ocean of our conversation is just too vast, and there is no other place that is more appropriate to be the birth of those discussions than the very amniotic fluid of all existence.
But love and summer is not just purely discourse, but a series of seemingly unrelated acts that are actually anachronistic steps of a sun-blessed process. And by that I mean the things we’d do other things than talk: swim, frolic by the sand, sleep, and other obvious things couples do when they’re in the waters from where all life sprang forth. That life evolved and gave rise to the only spiritually beings able to love – us, and it is in that love that affirms the Creator, the author of life, whose reason for the birthing of flora, fauna, and us are a much higher form of the same sentiment Berna and I have for each other.
Or maybe that was a bit too transcendental or existential. For is not love for both woman and nature reason enough? To spend time with her beautiful outer shell and innermost soul at the beauty of God and Mother Nature’s architecture and feel the love and happiness of it all, that is all that matters; anything else is an excess. Like I said, I already have what I’ve always wanted; and to spend time with her at the beach would be to parallel the same manga scenes I’ve always envied.
There is, however, more to the beach than all of those metaphysical objects and female soul(s). To find this essential element, the hallowed place where earth, sea, and sky meet must stripped down of those excesses: the long, fun, and cathartic road trips to it, its correlation to God and the entirety of existence, the girls, or even the girl, and then you will find it: the beach itself and everything it stands for. The usual calmness, beauty, and depth of the ocean is always a relaxant and an inspiration; and its rare instances of violence are testaments of its power. Underneath its sea-green glass mass is a submerged forest whose water skies are filled with colorful scaly birds, or a desert with grotesque living spiked orbs and wayward soft-bodied beings. The way its waves never tires in crashing onto the powdery sand are reflections of the recurring plain but enthralling things in our day-to-day lives. We try to see if the answers to our questions, problems, and wonderings about the future are beyond its horizon. And a day – or hopefully, everyday – at the beach is to taste a simple slice of paradise.
Then again, the beach is a related but a sometimes standalone entity. And summer, while epitomized by sandy seashores, isn’t limited by it. Summer is also about road trips, cool drinks on a hot day and beer by the night-time, road trips, climbing mountains, dates with my girl, blockbusters, and many other things that make life good. That is why summer is eternal, for all these things are with us throughout our lives. And maybe that’s why I forgot about Summer: all her offerings, I get to enjoy the whole year round, unlike back then when I was still in school, jobless, and too stoked for the season. But of course, there is still nothing like enjoying the season during its peak instead of diffusing its essence throughout the course of our lives. After all, a summer in one’s heart means moot if it’s stormy outside. That’s why I’m glad Summer reminded me of her at the right time: her time.
When life rearranges itself, seasons and months can slip out of our immediate recollections. But these things, like people, refuse to be forgotten; they have their ways of returning to us – or maybe it is they who make us go back to them. Well, who found and took back who and how, it doesn’t matter; what does is that even though so many new elements have come – a new job, a girlfriend –into my current sphere, Summer, my seasonal mistress, and I are still together. We’ll always be, as long as there is the sun and a beach. And even if I get married, have children, reach new career heights, and become consumed with work, Summer and I will forever be locked in each other’s arms. And should I lose my grip, like this year, I know she’ll pull me back to her warm embrace. Even though there may be moments when I forget, she’ll always remember.
(Not) A Damsel In Distrss
One of my favorite fiction tropes would be the damsel in distress. A woman, trapped in a dire situation, is saved by a dashing hero, and in doing so she falls for him. It remains as one of the most romantic clichés ever despite its overuse, but I learned recently that no person in the right mind could and should romanticize such an event if it were to happen in real life. And the reason I arrived with such a conclusion is because that’s the predicament Berna and I are in, and reality is so much harsher than fiction. I wish that it weren’t happening, as it’s taking a toll on her. But no matter how many coins I throw on a well, fairies won’t wand-wave our way out of this. Heck, there isn’t even a way to do what fictional heroes do, which is to vanquish the chief antagonist, thus freeing the girl. All I could do is be beside her in her fight against the insidious spectres that are haunting her, until the night when she can fight them off herself,= and close her eyes without fear or worry finally falls, for that is the only way I can truly be a true hero and save the damsel in distress.
In works of fiction, the hero encounters many petty and easily vanquished scum – robbers, goblins, trolls – along the journey, and at then he finally reaches the damsel’s chief abductor-tormentor – a powerful witch/wizard/warlock, a highly advanced alien race, a ferocious dragon, a wicked ruler, an obscure cult, or an ancient evil entity – which he battles with all his will and might in order to prove his love and dedication for his lady. But in real life, a robber, which is usually but a minor nuisance on the road in fiction, is more than enough to be the big bad villain. In real life, the damsel isn’t trapped in a tower; instead, she’s in the safety of her own home, and that sense of safety was dispelled when that stealing bastard broke into it, attempted to steal some of her family’s hard-earned possessions, and stabbed her mother on the forearm. His robbery of material things may have failed, but he has stolen the security of my woman and her family towards their own house and neighborhood. That means she had to be on a lookout on some nights; that means she now has to come home early or sleep at the office. He has stolen my woman’s peace; now she fears that a strange, malevolent man is lurking at the place where she’s supposed to feel the safest, standing beside her bed, looming at her as she sleeps. And while I, because of some strange reason and God’s help, was able to somehow get her smile back, there is still much work to be done.
Last Friday, hours after the incident, she just kept on crying over the phone and recounting what happened. Last Saturday, a day after the incident, I met her on KFC, and she didn’t say a word at first, and instead just held me tight, as though I was a living, breathing distress ball. At first I thought she’s going to be silent during the entirety of our date, except she wasn’t; she managed to smile, laugh even, which meant that somehow the warmth, joy, and lightheartedness I was sending her was getting through the dark and heavy shroud of her troubles. However, happiness won’t fight off filthy criminal lowlives, so as an additional measure, I lent her a wooden club, and Father lent her his steel baseball bat; both of which I carried on my back as though they were swords I would swing against anyone who has harmed and will harm her, especially that disgusting, evil crook. Imbued in those weapons is my wish to have peace restored in her heart, home, and family, and my passing it on to her was a symbolic gesture – the turning of that wish into a reality. So yesterday, I somehow thought that aside from the fact that she has to go home early or spend the night at the office, everything will start to slowly but surely return to the way things were in her life. And it does. But to me, it’s not fast enough.
Last night she texted me, telling me that she’s finding it hard to sleep because she’s still thinking about what happened, so I promised her that nobody’s going to hurt her. Thankfully, two texts after that, she had probably fallen asleep already. Of course she is still frightened; it’s only been a few days. I, however, wish that she no longer were instantaneously, not because I miss the times when we were carefree, or because I no longer want to deal with what she’s going through, but because I no longer want her to feel so frightened and haunted. If only there is no battle going on in the shadows of her mind, but oh there is, and wishful thinking going to cut it, so as her hero/warrior/guardian/knight/ninja, I will fight alongside her no matter how long, and certainly we’ll win. And the proof of that victory? My princess and her royal family will regain what the thief has stolen – security, serenity, and joy. And in their minds, the memory of that fearful night with that thief will be nothing but that – a memory.
Dear Berna,
I want you to know that I am with you, and God is with us. It’s alright to fear, but I know, and you should know, that deep down within you is the strength, courage, and peace that will allow you to fight it, and I will fight alongside you and awaken all those things. We’ll destroy all the ghosts that thief left in his wake, and we’ll live victoriously and happily ever after. For this is not a story about a damsel in distress, but about a war-goddess and her wargod.
Make Up, Not Break Up Part 1: Sleeping, Silence, Waking Up, and Forgiveness
We usually hurt the ones we love. And whenever we do, we usually do not intend to. We neither wish nor go out of our way to inflict pain on those near and dear to us; it’s just that we either fall short or do whatever we think is right but is actually wrong, and those things are what gets them. I learned this truth the hard and unexpected way, as I thought I was pressing all the right buttons with her, when in fact I was messing up our chain. That’s alright though, because I’ve picked up some new right moves, and now I’m back in the game.
What I thought would be the beginning of the end began with a bad decision, a succumbing to my weakness, and another bad decision. I should’ve played fight games with her on Playbook, a PS4 rental near my previous (and her current) workplace, but instead I chose to watch The Revenant, a slow-ass movie written by a pretentious ass of a director. The movie, which could’ve had a lot of events and elements excised from it and it wouldn’t have made a difference, was paced so sluggishly and devoid of both riveting conversations and any plot development that an average people would find as interesting and relatable, so I was unable to fight my drowsiness, causing me to catch z’s for a few minutes – a faux pas that’s disrespectful for my date. But according to Berna, she kind of understood why I dozed off, as to say that it’s a very boring movie is an oversimplification. Still, I know it’s not wrong and she was disappointed with me because of it, and what happened and what I did next made it even worse.
I got some shuteye in front of the person who I should be awake for and giving my attention and enthusiasm to, then I entertained a message from my BMJ friends, which was telling me to drink with them at 1AM, right when I woke up, and I seemed so stoked about it. In an attempt to dissuade me because I’m putting myself at risk by drinking until God-knows-when even though I was already sleepy, she took me to McDonald’s to have a chat with me, except she didn’t talk much, as she was already in a not-so-good mood, as she thought that I wouldn’t listen, that my decision was already set in stone. However, it wasn’t; I changed my mind before I got on the route to where my friends are. So when I got home, I texted her, telling her that I did take her advice, but it was already too late – I have already scorned her by not swaying when we were still with each other. So, as punishment for my insolence, I had to spend twenty-four hours with zero contact from her.
When I got home after our date, I sensed that I have majorly tripped her. After Literary Translation class, my suspicion was proved right, as she sent three long texts telling me why she was hurt by what I did, and the worst among those reasons was the fact that I told her that I missed her even she didn’t feel like I did during our date. That’s when I thought that it wasn’t an ordinary misunderstanding that won’t be resolved easily, and I was unfortunately right. I replied three long texts to her, explaining my side without justifying myself, but she didn’t respond. Six hours later, I sent her a long apology text, but, as expected, she didn’t respond. Because of our radio silence, I just felt so damn heavy because I know I grieved her heart and my words of apology could not reach her, as her pain was preventing them from mending the crack in her heart and the rift in our link. And when I’m disconnected from her, the little things that make me smile just cannot. Even DoTA loses its charm, as the joy of battle becomes a burden I have to put up with instead. And just like horseradish leaves over a bowl of bitter gourd, defeat made the taste of disenchantment a little bit worse, and even a sweet GODLIKE streak on our last game with the Windrunner wasn’t enough to mask it.
After our game, Paolo and I talked about my problem with Berna during our post-battle dinner and walk home. He gave me some advice, and he told me that it’s going to be okay because even though they have yet to personally meet, he can see and feel that my girlfriend loves me very much, and that he misses having a lover’s quarrel. I took everything he said by heart and decided to fight the distress I caused her so I could go back on her side. I texted her a really long message once again for the third time, to which she didn’t reply. To some, sending one long text after another in the event of a fallout is either annoying because it means I’m not giving her space to think, or it’s a sign of my lack of pride. I, however, don’t care about whatever I come across as, because what I care about is her and how we are, and we’re both not doing okay. With that thought in mind, I texted her again, asking if she was still awake because I wanted to call her so that we can talk about the problem. Expectedly, she didn’t reply, so I went to bed with a heavy heart and a troubled mind.
That sleep, however, wasn’t much of a break from the awfulness I was feeling, as I was only able to get four hours’ worth of shuteye, and when I woke up I just felt a sickening chill inside me – that’s what happens when things between me and my sunshine are not good. I tried going back to bed, but it was just too hard with all my cares about Berna and our relationship. I tried writing a blog, but the crippling emotions inside me were interfering with my creative flow. As a last resort, which should’ve been the first, I asked Mother to pray for me, for us, so that God would mend the crack in our connection and give us understanding, open communication, forgiveness, and love – the important things in a relationship whenever something like this arises.
After that, I somehow felt relief and was able to go back to sleep, as I had faith that God would work His way in both our hearts. Such a faith was well-founded, as my prayer has been answered when I woke up around 8AM. There it was, what I was waiting for the entire day last Saturday – a long text from Berna. And from that everything – love, forgiveness, and understanding – just flowed so naturally, and we were back to our usual constantly, openly, and crazily communicating selves.
In the end, everything panned out for the best. According to her, what happened wasn’t really that major, and I somewhat agree, but to me it was an important milestone and eye-opener. It made me realize that I can hurt the one I love accidentally, and I definitely will in the future. Of course, not on purpose, but it’s not an impossibility. However, even if I do, it’s not about what I’ve done wrong – except the ones that are so wrong that they are relationship-breaking – but what I do to make things up, how we reconcile with each other, and return to us loving each other and going through the highs and lows of life together.
But of course, making up over the phone isn’t enough. So come Monday, it was game time.
Ah! My Human Girlfriend
Last Sunday, for some strange reason, and fittingly, of all days, the theme of my girl and I when we were texting is that of Greek mythology. And now I realized that this blog post is long overdue, two months ago to be exact, as it was back in the 18th of December that I found my goddess, Bernadette. So here I am, in my atelier once again, writing about the most recent chapter of my personal saga and mythos, of the fairly new and hopefully endless age of a monotheistic pantheon and the religion of its sole faithful. Welcome to the third realm,
There are women, and then there are souls who share the same physiology and behaviors as them but are echelons above them. At first I thought they were angels, and I have been chasing after these beautiful beings ever since my first sighting of them. This world, which revolved around romanticized unrequited love and was set in a four century-old academe, slowly unfolded until it lost flight, hit the ground, and became broken, as one messenger was plucked after another. Then came the second – a colorful and expansive realm that spanned workplaces, cityscapes, beaches, and the plane of cyberspace. It is teeming with mermaids, faeries, and nymphs, and hiding among them is the goddess. I chased after them, these candidates for the divine, and when I was starting to feel tired of all the running around, ghosting, and friendzoning – both in my end and that of the false deities – the true one has finally descended. Bernadette.
Bernadette, the chief and only goddess of the Jamesbayotian Romantic Mythology. Some facets of her are opposite of what I have envisioned the goddess to be, as instead of being a fair-skinned chinita, she is a pure Filipina type with big and deep black eyes and smooth olive skin. Standing at around 5’2” or 5’3”, she’s definitely not petite, and instead voluptuous. And rather of being the sweet moe type, she is a sadistic tsundere, a blood goddess, Aztec-like in nature. However, some aspects of her have a commonality with how I imagined the goddess. Because as much as she hates to admit, her tsundere-ness is only the surface of her psyche; deep down she is a benevolent and warmhearted goddess who loves and is concerned with her one and only devotee, an Aphrodite whose love goes beyond that of Eros. She is also a deity of wisdom, as our deep, seamless, and seemingly unending conversations – proof of our beyond-physical connection – are filled with dialogue about cultures, ideas, dreams, passions, the arts, knowledge, and so much more. That is why she is now the goddess; she is now the world; this world, which is hopefully the last and everlasting.
She is the earth beneath my feet, warm and solid but not too hard. In her richness, inspirations take root and blossoms for all the world to see. She is the sea beside it, known yet still holds mysteries, a timeless old soul who is full of colorful life underneath a beautiful blue exterior. She is at times calm, at times unsettlingly silent, at times mercurial, and all the time a sight to behold. She is the open, endless sky above us all, and beyond that peaceful azure is a universe of possibilities rife with celestial bodies, forming figures and foretelling our futures. And this new cosmos, which is her, is shared by the two of us and the people and things integral to our mythos.
The first world was patterned on Evangelion and Judeo-Christian symbolism, the second one was an all-myths-are-true New Age Spirituality hoopla, and this current one is its continuation. This is the Age of Transcendence, of New Enlightenment, and Love. She sits on her throne, above and beyond the time-space, looking down on a nearly-infinite number of multiverses, watching her beloved warrior-poet hero – I – attempt to achieve greatness by following his passions and profess his love for her by offering her words, deeds, artifacts, and sustenance. And in my adventures with and for The Goddess, I am aided by equally important men and women: the wise prophet Fernan and our other brothers-in-arms Paolo, Nico, Nhel, and Ivan; the wordsmiths of La Salle – Kei, John, and Joyce; crafty rogues of SEO Hacker; my family, which adores the Goddess; the now-diaspora that is BMJ; and my loyal canine retainers Tala and Chase. As our journey continues, we discover bizarre beings: five-legged cows that live in Sky Ranch (we haven’t been to Sky Ranch), coffee-drinking giant humanoid rats and lizards, magma drakes, and unnamed dragons, just to name a few. And in our path that leads to the altar and the fulfillment of “The Prophecy”, there are those who will stop us: the Green Sea Monster, the Woman Who Changes Her Face, and Archangel Lucifer AKA “God Himself”. But through our love, understanding of each other, maturity, and giving each other freedom to grow, we will prevail, this glorious age will last forever, and we’ll continue having adventures until we ascend to the next plane, where we’ll still walk hand-in-hand side by side and continue conquering brave new frontiers.
Putting a girl on a pedestal is wrong. While treating a woman as a goddess make her pure, powerful, and smooth, it would strip her of her important right and ability to have weaknesses, break down, and ask for help, find rest from expectations, and become who she truly is and wants to become. So of course, Berna is never truly a goddess; she has flaws – some of which I already know, and some I am still discovering – and I would never take away her God-given right to have them. But the thing about love is that, according to my professor, it is imagined. I don’t fully agree, but I don’t fully disagree either; it just means that we love the one we love because the real fits the mold of the ideal. And Berna, while not exactly the latter, possesses many traits of the latter. And in this written realm, one of the imagined and ideal, Berna is glorified and ascribed divine properties to, turning her to the goddess Bernadette. However, she is far inferior to the mortal she is derived from.
As long as I love Berna, Bernadette will exist, but only in my head, and I will love her, but only as a symbol of the perfect love for a perfect existence. And I love Berna, a beautiful yet flawed flesh-and-spirit fusion of a female who exists in the plane of reality, for I can love her, and she can make me feel the same love. And although this life of love with her will have times of sadness, pain, worry, and fear, it still bests a self-serving fabricated romance between me and Bernadette, for it is felt by the body, the mind, the heart and the soul.
I love you, Berna. You are the myth and the living legend. 🙂
A Hacker’s Outgrowing
I’m finally free; thank God it’s over – not the words you’d expect from a person who always wanted to be a writer for a profession. But if you were in the shoes of the one saying that, you’d say that no truer words have been spoken. Because ever since things changed for the corporate good, which meant worse for creative people like me, for us “millennials”, I knew I had to leave. Except I didn’t, as I was cash-strapped, so I stayed for three more months. At first I thought I was overstaying my welcome, only to slowly realize that I exited at the perfect time as my last day got nearer. And now that I am officially an ex-employee of my previous company, after going through many unforgettable highs and lows, I can now confidently say that it was one of my best runs so far.
The end began in the middle, around late August. It was a time of great upheaval, of talks about the turning of the company into a corporate one, of barely legal and grossly anti-employee contracts, and the enforcement of pointless laws. All of these changes were detrimental to our productivity and pride as young professionals, so a sudden mass exodus began. Many of the co-workers who I have become friends with over the span of a year were leaving one by one at a rate that made the management bothered and us happy for each other’s hastened arrival to greener pastures. It was officially the end of the company’s “golden age”, as freedom and happiness with work was replaced with shackles and grumbling.
Back in the old days, we used to believe in freedom – granted that we are held accountable for how it’s used – and the lack of need for supervision. Apparently, when I left, we still do, as it’s still part of the company vision/mission, whatever the hell that is, but that’s just what’s written on the walls and not what was still happening. Flexible schedule became a thing of the past. Work from home required top-level permission before it can be granted. Our output, instead of speaking for themselves, were regularly checked. We have begun using Slack, a chat site/program that allows the team lead to read every conversion, including those between the employees. And last but not least, on a more personal level, I cannot sit beside the girl I like, as it is detrimental to work even though it isn’t, and posting on Facebook anything that can be interpreted as against the company or any of its higher-ups, regardless of whether it’s actually them or otherwise, is a big deal and therefore punishable by public shaming in the guise of transparency and the upholding of respect, honor, and the company name.
Basically, everything that made the company feel so welcoming to millennials like us, made me want to work there, and made it unique was gone. And because even mere traces of such things can no longer be found in it, I had to leave, even if my-now girlfriend (more on that later on) is still there. It saddens me that what was once special has become part of the statistics, one of the thousands of startups that promised to bring something new to the table, only to end up as one of the businesses they promised they are not and will never become.
In the pursuit of my passion, writing, I joined that company, which looked and felt different, and promised me a way of doing work that is more laissez-faire and provides room to be myself and grow. That seemed true during the first half of my stay, then it no longer was by the second one. I still had hope that it would be true once again, but the bullet to the head of that wishful thinking is what our boss said, which is something along the lines of “passion will lead you nowhere. And you’re not special; you’re just a statistic”. ASSHOLE! IT LED ME TO HIS COMPANY, WHICH LED ME TO A JOB THAT GETS ME PAID FOR BEING A WORDSMITH, TO FRIENDS I WILL NEVER FORGET, AND THAT ONE GIRL I LOVE! AND TELL ME THAT EVERYONE I MET ALONG THE WAY IS JUST ANOTHER STATISTIC!
He traded something he once believed in and made us believe in for something as cheap as the socially accepted definition of success. Nevertheless, he was right – was, not is, because he is now wrong; following our hearts and our passions will lead to our own respective definitions of success, and mine happens to be fulfilling my dream as a writer, having true friends, and finding love. ALL OF THOSE THINGS DID HAPPEN, AND IRONICALLY BECAUSE OF HIM! So Sir, thank you from the bottom of my heart, for everything. I guess I shouldn’t be mad at you despite all that crap I had to go through because of your ridiculous mindset, because in the grander scheme of things, I owe you so much.
Looking back, I realized that I have become successful in the most serendipitous way possible. That success, however, is far from complete. I still have to find a better job as a writer, I still have to spend more time with the friends I’ve made to know them better, and I still have to keep loving her. And in order for me to do those things better, I have to grow into the person I am meant to be, and that means leaving the company. So to all my friends in both the golden age and the new age, this is not a goodbye, as I am always online, and I am always with you in spirit that small office home. This is merely a physical separation, a growing out of the pot we once shared. Don’t worry, we’re still in the same garden, so we’ll still see each other.
So, save for Berna, see you when I see you. I want you all to know that even in my new workplace, which I don’t know yet, and even in your new jobs, which is already true for the old ones and will be true in the near future for the new ones, we’ll always be…
Hackers. 🙂
Requited At Last: A Brave New World And A Lovely Girl
For the first time ever since my first foray into romance nine years ago, my feelings have been returned. And because of this blissful and new development, I am experiencing elements that are both nothing and everything I expected. Either way, to say that it’s beautiful – she is beautiful – is an understatement.
It’s no other than Berna, of course, a person that I was joking to have a crush on…until I realized that jokes are half-meant and I told more than two. And ever since I got to know her better, I discovered that she’s funny, weird, and full of life. She’s also into anime and manga, novels, and movies – especially the bizarre ones that not a lot of people are into, which are also ones I find interesting. She calls me a pervert and a masochist, while I call her a tsundere and a sadist – perfectly fitting, as the two of us are character archetypes that the foundation of many anime and manga are built upon. Strangely and not-so-strangely enough, we mesh well together on a level I have never felt before – not even with Amparo, and Amparo and I make so good a combination that the people around us can see it. And it is because of that unmistakable synchrony of our wavelengths that I began making initial moves on her and then ultimately asked her out on a date.
Honestly, I was surprised that she agreed to watch Spectre with just me alone. I gave her the option to drag along anyone she likes, but she didn’t. But despite what seems like an implicit declaration of our movie-watching as a date, I still didn’t want to assume anything because of my painful past romantic experiences. Going by that mindset, I thought it was too early for me to reveal my intentions, as it’s only the first date. Thankfully, I didn’t have to because she held my hand during the movie – a brave move on her end, because for all she know, I could just be bored and only want some company. And with the interlocking of our fingers during a James Bond film began our story. And in a good story, there has to be conflicts, plot twists, and of course, antagonists.
During the tricycle ride to work after our movie date, as she held my hand, she told me that we’re not yet even getting started and someone is already getting in our way. Our boss. It all began with me sitting beside Berna, a move that according to him will cause a decline to the entire team’s productivity, as past office romances, he claims, have been “disruptive” to work. So that the things he dread won’t happen, instead of actually getting to know us better and checking whether our officeserye is actually affecting everyone’s work negatively, he takes the lazy and corporate way out by assuming that we’re 100% like the past couples, couples that never were, and psycho stalkers with a crush, and impose a pointless seating arrangement that nobody really obeys because everyone has their own preferred seats. After all, sitting beside Berna is destructive to the company while facing the wall isn’t, even though I’m much more productive with the former and bored out of my wits to the point that I can’t write with the latter. Then again, maybe he just wants what’s best for the company, so official courting time is only during breaks and after work, and by courting he means any interactions between Berna and I regardless of context. Yep, nothing beats sticking to traditional corporate know-how that doesn’t really help; fuck trying out new things in the name of innovation and growth that might bring an unexpected and unprecedented boom to the company.
Sounds tough, right? Well, it is, but that’s actually one of the easy parts, as our boss is, more or less, a clear and obvious threat to our shipping. As of now, what I perceive as the greatest dangers are the negative principalities within and around us. She told me she’s moody. I told her I can handle it, but my words are yet to be tested. She hates it when I self-pity, whenever I tell her or imply that I don’t deserve her. And me? I fear that I might fail her, that I might not live up to her expectations, and that I might do something so wrong and stupid that I would hurt her. But as of now, since we’re at the very early stages, these known spectres have yet to truly manifest themselves, and unknown ones have yet to surface. Nevertheless, I am already bracing for the times when they do, for I know they’re not going to be easy, but I’m certain that weathering them is going to be worth it. And of course, I’m savoring every moment while they still haven’t.
Ever since I was a child, people have been telling me about the plethora of wonderful things that come with having your feelings returned. A lot, if not most of them, are true. What most of them failed to mention, however, is the other side – the many hardships that are part and parcel of this beautiful exchange of emotions. I’ve heard of them from a few lucid people in my life, especially those who were or are in a relationship, so I know that being liked back isn’t the end, but is just the beginning of both the joys and the pains. And to truly bring out and refine the former, the latter is necessary.
So Berna, I would like you to know that I want to spend a really long time being happy with you, I am more than willing to face the challenges the world throws at us and change for the better no matter how difficult, for I know that that is the only way that I can be with you.
It’s a beautiful yet somewhat difficult new world with you, and I wouldn’t have it any other way – most especially easier – with anyone else. Tayo na, Berna. J
A Moving Post
Finally, the day Mother has been waiting for many months now has finally arrived: moving day. I was kind of waiting for it too, until I found out that we won’t have cable TV and internet on our new house, which is just a short walk away, for three weeks. That means I’ll still be staying in our old house at night. Nevertheless, I’m happy that we have a new house and that we have moved, mostly. But I’m a little bit sad and nostalgic as well.
We moved into our now former house on February 10, 2007. It is where I came home to after long days in college and work. It is where I first brought friends over during my birthday. It is where I first brought a girl – my first girlfriend – home. It is where I came home late at night – or early morning – from happenings I shouldn’t be telling my parents about. And lastly and most importantly, it’s where I began to have a grasp of who I am and who I want to be. Now you can’t blame me for being a bit sappy over our leaving of our once-official not-so-humble abode.
It’s not bragging if it’s true; this house would be a head-turner if it were a woman. European bungalow style, beige stone brick exterior, red roofing, bay windows, double doors on the front, a wide red brick front , seven rooms, and ample garden, floor, and yard space – it’s more than enough to make me feel upper-upper class even though we’re just lower-upper; it’s more than enough to make me not feel the need to move to a better house. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy with the new house, it’s just that I’m already content with this old one, and the new one seems like an excess.
As we moved our possessions from this old one to the new one, I rediscovered some of them, which have either become long-forgotten or ignored. Upon laying eyes on them and dusting some of them, the memories linked with them were unearthed. Old toys, Ragnarok Online prepaid cards, father’s typewriter, obsolete devices like components, cassette tapes, and typewriters – save the first, their purpose has been effectively reduced to elicit nostalgia. Mother, the most practical among us, suggests that we get rid of them, but we simply could not. Even us children, who do not and cannot use these outdated tech, went against Mother’s wishes; it’s as if we were protecting our folks’ fond recollections on their behalf from one of them. We clung and continued to cling onto those things as if they were the very memories they represent, as if throwing them would cause us to forget. Thankfully for us and unfortunately for Mother, our thingamabobs were spared, disregarding practicality for sentimentality, which is so us – so me.
I will not retract my previous statement; the new house is an excess. However, I will not deny that it’s also more practical than our old one. It has two stories, more space if you do the math, and it doesn’t have a school that plays pop music on disruptively loud levels for PE class for a neighbor – a total violation of building code. Now we have real neighbors – the ones we used to have in our chilodhood, as our new house is in the same street where our first house is, and completely new ones who replaced our old ones. And the disturbance they make, which is their bickering over parking space, is a lot more appropriate and more entertaining to listen to as compared to Anaconda being played during the PE time of kindergarteners.
The move is almost complete – almost. Aside from the internet and TV cable, my PC, a few guitars of Father’s guitars and his drumset, and a few utilities – electric fans, my PC, a mattress, an AC unit, some food, utensils, our old fridge – remained in the old house. Because these things got left behind, Father stayed to make sure they don’t get stolen, while I to be able to browse the internet or play video games after work. Brother and Sister, on the other hand, go back to our old home to connect and then return to our new home to eat, sleep, and bathe. Father and I, being more attached to the things we have left behind, only move to the new house whenever we need to get something or eat, leaving the old house for an hour at most.
He – and in extension, us – has always been like that, even before we officially moved, as Father had developed a fear of robbers thanks to multiple past experiences with them. It’s the same fear that made him install multiple lock mechanisms, steel gates, and ugly brown spiked fences to protect from robbers the very objects Father is watching over. Soon everything will be moved to the new house, leaving the excessive defenses in our old house purposeless and the same excessive defenses that are also installed in our new house to work – if Father gives them a chance. However, even if we have completely vacated our old home and have had it rented, we won’t be able to leave behind the inconvenience of these hassling security measures, the root behind them – Father’s fears – and our (over)reliance on the internet. I don’t think we want to; these things make home what it is.
We didn’t have to move, but in the end we decided to. Why? Maybe we just don’t know it yet, but the reason is not ours; but Fate’s. This move, which probably is our last, is the last few years of living under one roof, as it’s probably going to be the last house we’re going to live in together, considering that in seven years – the same number of years we spent in our old house – we’d probably have our own lives, our own houses. This old house, on the other hand, is a recently ended chapter. It is where I and my siblings, with nineteen being the youngest became adults. It is where the three of us were shaped into who we are most likely to become in the near-future. It is where all of us grew older, grew apart at times, and grew closer for good. And most importantly, it is where I had many meaningful memories that I will cherish, many painful experiences I have learned from, and unremarkable everydays that I owe my current breathing to with the most important people in my life – my family and our non-blood related visitors. After all, only the most important people in my life can set foot in my home.
Thank you Old House. May your next family give you the same importance, respect, and love as we did. And may they give the same importance, respect, and love to each other as well.
Sayang Lia, We Only Had One Date Part 3: Ascension and Reincarnation (Also A Jupiter Ascending Review)
“Sunk out at sea, crashed my car, gone insane, and it felt so good I wanna do it again…”
-Bachelor Girl, Buses and Trains
Lia is one in seven billion, the only one of her kind. No one else in the world gives off an intimidating aura that enthuses me instead of overburdening and piques my interest because of her interestingly cute mannerisms – saying yum whenever she pops a string of French Fries on her mouth, that childish look on her face when she rests her chin on her palms, and the way she softly steps – that meld together with her air of sophistication. Wanna know other girls who are one in seven billion, the only one of her kind? Most of the girls I really liked. And Lia, just like them, are forever lost in my life. Maybe in the next life, five-digit years into the future, I’ll get Lia, when she has a new name and a new calling, when we have both forgotten our rather fun Tinder date – on my end at least. Kind of like the plot in Jupiter Ascending.
Sci-fi isn’t really Lia’s cup of tea, so I don’t know why she agreed to the Wachowski’s visual visionary spectacle. In fact, I even expected her to say no, except she didn’t, so I took her yes for a yes. And while there were times during the movie when I wished that I chose Project Almanac instead even tho it’s the generic millennial teenybopper YOLO idiocy, I believe I made the right choice. After all, many of its elements – the clear, crisp, and detailed visuals; the art direction that was a fusing of the Renaissance-esque, Final Fantasy-ish and space age; the high-octane but comprehensible action scenes; the sincerity of the plot despite its unnecessary cheese and its reliance on damsel-in-distress tropes; and the themes of reincarnation and human harvesting – appealed to me. And when Lia seemed to have received some sort of “inspiration” for their thesis, which is a futuristic-themed fashion show, I knew that I chose right. I mean, look at that space haute couture; it’s so avant garde.
Mila Kunis’s dress by Michael Cinco. A beautiful gown that was used for an intergalactic political marriage was designed by a Filipino. Thanos damn it, our race is so awesome that our achievements reach space. Pinoy Pride right there.
How Eddie Redmayne says he’s a dashing debonair evil overlord: 1.) Sitting 2.) Screaming
Aside from the fashion, she also liked Channing. As expected. Too bad, because I know she would’ve been happier if the 21 Jump Street guy had his Magic Mike abs for the movie. If she dated a younger me, I would’ve been insecure with Tatum’s body, especially if my date was swooning over his six pack (which was absent in the movie). But now that I understand gender equality, I believe it’s only right for women to enjoy fanservice.
A few questions though: why do girls still find him attractive despite the unnatural golden eyebrows and beard and that elven ears? And his role in the movie had more things in common than a dog than a human, right?
After all, I did too with Tuppence Middleton’s ass, so much so that I wasn’t able to contain my glee and had a “hot damn, dat ass” moment in front of Lia. That’s okay though, she had a toned-down but nevertheless same reaction anyway.
Man, I wish Tuppence was the one to have broken the internet and not Kim K. See the entirety of Jupiter Asscending to see Kalique Abrassax’s ass yourself.
Okay, now check out her front. By the way, do you know what tuppence means?
Despite critics’ bashing, we thought the movie was good. According to Lia, it was typical but fun. Aside from the praises I’ve previously stated, Mila and Channing were entertaining to watch both individually and as a couple, as they had chemistry as a couple. And the ending? Perfect! Why? Let me end this pseudo-review first with a 7-7.5/10 (very flawed storytelling and pace, but highly entertaining, aesthetically appealing visuals-wise, and had a lot of heart and a brilliant theme and premise) and get on with an analysis.
SPOILERS: If you haven’t watched the movie yet, don’t read further.
If there’s something critics repeatedly hate on, it’s the ending, which they think made the entire movie pointless. Well, to be fair, to go back to cleaning toilets after seeing the cosmically big picture is a waste of life. However, it may seem like that, but Jupiter did not go back to that shitty life, literally. If she did, she’ll no longer be with Caine. But they’re very much together, and they’re talking about what she’ll do next to stop the gene trade. Jupiter is doing is taking her time, spending her last days as a normal human, and sorting things out before going back to the vastness of space and correct whatever needs to be corrected.
And while Jupiter knows what’s beyond the stars and will be returning there shortly, I, on the other hand, was only given a short but beautiful glimpse.We went past the Tinder nebula where we first “met”, spun around the WeChat star with our convos and photos, and met on the edge of space that is Town. We had ice cream, window-shopping, taking of a selfie, and a movie on the last few hours before the first and last embrace – our bodies’ only collision for our entire date and probably even lifetime, and then, after two days of conversation, all of the residues of whatever we had, whatever it’s called, has burned out. So, is it over? Well, with what I learned from Jupiter Ascending, it’s a no.
According to the movie’s mythos, gene patterns repeat. When they do, it’s considered as a reincarnation. I thought about it, and it kind of makes sense. Genes, after all, are just codes, and codes, no matter how many permutations they have, are finite, making repetition inevitable. It takes a long time, but it definitely will happen; I just hope that the next repetition of both our gene codes happen in the same timeline and place as each other. I’ll be Caine and she’ll be Jupiter. We’ll swipe right again using some futuristic cellphone app and talk for three weeks, then I’ll ditch my friends for a date with her even if everything between us in the next life ends the same way in this one.
Oh Lia, see you again really soon.
I put the I in the UNIVERSE. I hope I can put U too. 