the friend i used to know

i was intoxicated again with my friendster addiction. i browsed through numerous pages of profiles until i got to a page of someone who was my good friend back in my elementary years at my alma mater in pasig.

wow. you have the same name as my friend, the same slitty and dreamy eyes, the same geeky humor but i feel like i'm looking at a stranger. i read through your profile. i was pensive while browsing through the testimonials. it really is you... but not quite.

remember the time when you were as simple as me? remember the time when you were as geeky as me? remember the time when we talked about "uncool" things that no one else knew about? remember the time when we used to look at the "popular crowd" from afar? remember the indecent jokes you taught me? do you remember me at all?

i know i've lost you. we've already grown so apart that i can't be comfortable around you anymore. in finding you, i've truly lost you.

i don't know your new group of friends. i don't know what you're into right now. i don't know the company you've grown up with.

where is that corny lovefool nerd? the one who used to think that "michael learns to rock" was the coolest band on the planet?

i still haven't changed. i'm still that kid who likes talking about silly things.

it won't do me good to stagnate on this friendster page. click, click.

choose your own epitaph

i never realized that reading friendster testimonials can send my heart fluttering like an ecstatic insect. they do good to beef up your ego.

maybe i can pick one to be put on my epitaph? goody! i get to get the one i like best!

you can be my friend with a click of a button?

sure, sure. a hefty lot of people rave like it's armaggedon about friendster.

but really? are all the people in your friends list your... uhmm... friends?

at first, i passed a law in the republic of me that i'd never accept anyone that i don't really know---people who didn't fall in the friends category, at least in my book.

someone i didn't know gave me an invite. she was so nice and polite in asking permission from me to add her to my list. i ain't no ogre. stranger #1 appended to my list. a few weeks more, stranger#2 came, stranger#3 followed... and so on. my list comprised of friends, acquaintances and who-knows-who's.

somehow, i feel a little guilty. i spent an awful amount of my life with the people i genuinely know as friends before i called them such then complete strangers just need to be polite then i award them with the "friend" tag with a click of the mouse?

maybe i'm digging in too deep. maybe i've nothing much better to do.

disclaimers, anyone?

ok. that person who did the two previous posts is not the person writing now.

venting out posts---it's either you love 'em or hate 'em. also, it's either about lovin' or hatin'. (why am i talking ghetto?)

january epiphanies

do you think it's really possible that there's someone who can magically erase all your fears, sadness, anxieties, doubts... all the black gump of negativity in your person?

i have this person in my life. i am blessed. i really am.

you know who you are.

kill bill smeared on me

inspired from reading quentin tarantino's kill bill, all my posts on this blog will, from now on, have pseudo-chapters aptly tagged with my perky and sometimes morbid titles.

sometimes i think, i'm one of those people people who were destined to be unloved, not shown love in return. i am an unrequited.

it doesn't matter how good a person you are, how much you care for somebody, how much you've given up and given out. in the end, if the person you love doesn't love you... the person you love doesn't love you.

they say unrequited love is pure and selfless. i don't like pure, i don't like selfless. i want to be loved back.

i'm sick and tired of unconditional love.

i started walking alone and from the looks of it, this will be a long solitary walk in life. i have been alone all this time.

if there's such a fucked up thing as reincarnation, i want to subscribe to it---downpayment to be handed down cold cash. i was not meant to live in this lifetime. i want something new, something that's less lonely.

i have always been alone. i don't want to be alone. humor me.

i hate my father. as i've promised to myself a few days after my mom died in 1999, i won't shed a single tear for that man.

he has always been intent on waiting for me to commit a mistake so that he could tell me how i messed up things and how he was always right in doing things.

today, my sister and i did the laundry. he stood there in front of me, eyeing every single move i made, looking for faults. he has always been like that even when i was a little kid.

he's the reason why i never do house chores. he's the reason why i do nothing just so he won't have anything to breathe on my neck about. he's the reason why i don't try to learn things because of the inevitable glory that he may get from my inapt work.

instead of encouraging me, he slaps me with his almighty self-righteousness.

i won't ever forget the pain that i felt when he hit me when i was six years old. six years old and he hit me! i can still remember the red mark that his heavy stocky hands marred on my skin.

when he went abroad when i was four years old, i never did miss him. all the love i could ever wish for was given to me by my mom. she gave so much more than that. i never missed out on anything.

he should have gone first before my mom. my sister needs mom. i need mom. my nieces need their grandma. if i could at that time, i would have given him up in exchange for my mom's life. i would have really done that without any remorse.

no more tears. no tears. no tears on that fateful day to come.

at last, my dad's already home but they still have to do a couple of tests on him. we were asked to go weekends to the hospital for some more diagnoses.

not perfect but good.

i'm drained. being a watcher and getting just six hours of sleep in two days are really killers.

two days ago, my dad had a severe stomach ache so my sister and i rushed him to the philippine heart center.

the cause of the dilemma? well, the culprit is... slightly and indirectly... me. now, before you point accusing fingers at me, i'll have to be my own lawyer. i wouldn't want to be incriminating myself on my own blog.

let's imagine ourselves getting our asses inside a "time machine" and travel back a few days into friday afternoon...

i had the knack to make guyabano juice from the remaining slices of the fruit sitting stagnant in our refrigerator. i mashed the guybano a little then put it inside the blender to make the juice. like other kitchen-associated stuff, my take on primitive guyabano juice was nice. very refreshing, if i can say so myself. i came up with a pitcherfull of my divine creation but halved the contents of it for my thirst-quenching. being generous, i announced to the people in our house that my "guyabano-ade" was free and accessible to all.

fast forward to forty-eight hours later, sunday, four in the morning... my dad just creeped into the house after escorting my sister to manila to attend to her doctor duties. dear old dad, scours inside the fridge for something to snack on and he chances upon my pitcher. he engulfs the entirety of my guyabano mix.

three or four hours later, my dad wakes up to severe pain.

first off, i didn't know that the juice was still there. if i did know, i would have disposed of it since it was already days since i did it. second, my dad was hungry when he downed the guyabano puree of sorts. it's really not a good idea to take citric juices when you're a bit starved since the gastric juices would act up.

i rest my case. my dad also absolved me. my hands are clean.

when my dad was brought for diagnosis in the philippine heart center, we waited for a good three hours before the doctors there could attend to him because the place was full of patients. they ran a couple of tests on him and we were advised to confine him. there was a problem with that---there was no room available for him! this burdened us with another six hours of waiting! ladies and gentlemen, efficiency at its best.

during those hours of being bummed inside, i got to see the life that my sister lives as a doctor---patients bugging you to make things faster, patients who have the sole purpose of demanding and complaining, people who are in the verge of death being run into the operating room, the relatives of the dying yielding to tears, dead bodies being ferried to the morgue, people expecting doctors to be gods. all of these, nothing but usual for my sister. rubbing shoulders with death and playing tag with it... all of it bravely done by my sister.

anyway, we got a room after the awfully long wait. we acquired a room before the clock struck midnight. whew.

i stayed with my father for two more days, living off of the hospital's canteen food, taking on frequent long walks just to eat burger and fries at mcdonald's, acquainting myself with the pizza hut lady by the canteen, immersing myself in cable videoke and such activities.

i'm glad that i went home though i'm still wondering about my father's state. i miss my bed. i gotta catch up on sleep.