I despise you

I wonder how some people can tolerate the fact that they are the reason for the sufferings of others. Don't they have the heart? The world is going to the dogs. Not because of dirty politics. Not because of hate. But because people have forgotten to be emotionally wise. The world has forgotten to be considerate. It pays to take off that shoes and put on the sneakers of others. It's the only way. It's the only way.

Ichimoku Ren

If you are a big fan of Jigoku Shoujo like me, then you know who I'm pertaining to. Yeah, he's one of Ai's associates. And yes, he's gorgeous.

Jigoku Shoujo, or Girl from Hell, is one anime that's a hundred miles away from reality. It can be the wish of someone who experiences cruelty in this very inequitable world. It is about sending people to that hideous turf of Hades. If a person has animosity against someone and wants that person to be eliminated, he/she can contact the hotline to hell. Ai and the rest of the gang will do the dirty work for him/her. One needs only to wait in front of the computer, and when the clock strikes 12 midnight, a website will appear on the screen. The complete name of the loathed person should be typed on the blank space, and Ai will appear to offer a contract. Mind you, this contract will get the better of that person who contacted her sooner or later. If one person is cursed, two graves are dug, as Ai Enma puts it.

One particular character interests me. Ichimoku Ren. Aside from his astounding good looks, Ren appears to be the most empathetic of all of Ai's associates. Today's episode on Animax revealed not only his past, but a folklore of Japan which I was not aware of until recently. He was a Tsukumogami.

He was used in numerous murders. Blood flowed on his metallic body. Being a katana, there was nothing he could do but witness the injustice use of his sharp blade. When the battle finally ended and no life was left except his, Ai found him. She gave Ren a human-like body.

I think one of the many reasons why the world seems very hostile is because we sometimes prefer to be just the 'eye'. Sometimes we forget to use our hands, our feet, our hearts. Though he was reminded not to be totally attached to their clients, Ren could not help but be involved. He knew that looking will not change a thing. And though he works for Ai whose business is filling up all available spaces in hell with people, he felt his current existence is better than before. Don't look at the dark aspect of Ren's job, because he doesn't. The most quintessential of all is the fact that he now was given the opportunity to do something about the situation.

He's now more than just a spectator.

My 15-minute fame

Itaktak mo... Itaktak mo... Itakitak itaktak mo... Hehehe.

It was advertised yesterday that the longest running noontime show in the country, Eat Bulaga, needed contestants for their segment On the Spot Jackpot. They were looking for romance novel writers, illustrators, artists. Upon hearing it, I immediately texted my friend Jeje, a writer by the name of Sofia. The prize was not so bad, the highest of which is Php200,000. And though not a fan of the show, she immediately grabbed the opportunity and decided to be listed.

I was informed last night that they were asked to bring along at least one kin or a friend. Since none of her relatives was available, I was asked to come. I kind of hesitated because I did not want to be on national TV. What if a producer discovered me and gave me a contract?? Eeeeee! Hahaha!

The assembly time was at 830am. Despite my fear to be discovered, the rain failed to stop me; I got there on time. Even my family was very excited. This was the first time this happened to any of my friends. This was also my first time to be in the studio of the said show. And if ever they won, I could borrow the money to pay my placement fee. Yipeeee!

I didn't know that being a studio audience needed to be more than an audience. Participation is a prerequisite. They told us what to do, teach us the 'moves', when to applause. It was exhausting! It was only today did I realize that clapping burns a lot of calories. And when I got home, I was never the same. The shouting and the applauses were deafening! I should have brought cotton to protect my now broken ear drum.

And the show progressed. We finally came to the last part of the show - the most awaited part - On the Spot Jackpot. One of questions would come from a song. And they just don't recite the lyrics; someone would sing it. All relatives and friends of the contestants were asked to sit next to each other, so once the segment was already on, the camera would be focused to only one direction. Of all the seats there, Lougee, the vocalist of the band Mojofly, the one who would sing the song where the question would be based on, was asked to sit beside me! Imagine my shock when I saw her coming towards us. I panicked. Grrrr!

I looked stupid. I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know how to wave my hands (it's true!). Ay naku. If only I could melt, I would. My mom was so surprised when she saw her beautiful daughter on TV. She texted me immediately to tell me how beautiful (aherm) but how lost I looked. Oh mom.

So, that's it. Je and Cherie did not win, but they got to take home a thousand bucks as consolation prize. Except for my 15-minute fame that would make me the target of bullying by my so-called friends (hmp!), which I have to endure for three lifetimes or so, the experience was unforgettable. I enjoyed it. I might have appeared lost on cam because I was busy thinking how many people I know were watching and how I could redeem myself after this, I really did enjoy. It was fun! Afterwards, we decided to dissect every occurrence (and the bullying started; my suffering was beginning...), so we ate at a Pizza Hut nearby. The Php1000's life didn't even last for two hours. But it's okay. It would live a meaningful afterlife in our stomachs. ^_^

Monday sickness

I woke up with a headache today. I have a runny nose since yesterday. Wahhh! I am confident that I will never catch a cold since I had been vaccinated early this year. The effect will last for one whole year. But now that I am starting to feel heavy and my nose is aching, I wonder if the vaccination was a good idea. Hmmmnn... I don't always have a flu. I rarely get sick. But now I think I'd rather be sick than have this feeling of about to get sick but couldn't. Does this make you feel sick? I'm so sick.

Lost in translation

How many times have I done it? Nothing good comes out of it. Still I pretended.

Hay. The problem is probably with me. I'm not so good with it. I can't dance. And they say it takes two to tango..

But probably, had I seen something I can hold on to, I might hold on till forever. But there's nothing. Nothing.

And now I'm giving up.

Yeah, I've decided. I'm satisfied with the moments. I have the memories. I always have the memories.

I'll drop it. For good. There's probably something for me beyond the horizon. And I have to leave this.

He would have been perfect.

But I guess it doesn't exist. It won't.

It didn't.

The devil wears Prada

It has always been the question of the century: money or love.

Yeah, it is the one question we can debate on until forever expires, yet the answer will still be a mystery. It is like arguing on which existed first, whether the egg or the chicken, or why the chicken did cross the street. It is synonymous with finding the essence of life itself. And the downside to it is that after you finally understood everything, you'd realize that the very thing valuable to you the most has already been lost. So ironic.

I got good feedbacks for the movie 'The devil wears Prada'. So when it was advertised on Star Movies (sorry, I missed it on the big screen. I thought it was not worth it. Guess I was wrong. Ü), I got really excited. My parents and I watched it. And yeah, we enjoyed it.

It did not make me cry. I was flabbergasted. The plot, the dress, the Chanel. Amazing. Rubbing elbows with the elite, attending fashion events, meeting people with the passion for fashion. For a moment, I wanted to be a part of it.

I think it would be neurotic to believe that we can have everything. We can't. Does that mean there are dreams unattainable? I guess there are. Especially when you dream of having a whooping career, a blossoming family life, and a wonderful circle of true people you can consider friends, all at the same time. They don't materialize simultaneously. Unfortunately.

The coin has only two faces. It is one tough decision we have to make. But I guess what defines a person depends on how he/she makes that one tough decision. A decision that can either make or break him/her. A decision that may change him/her.

And when that decision fails, it is how he/she rises and faces it, acknowledging every sacrifice not only him/her had to make, but also those around. Life is not perfect, a common knowledge. And the fact that we only live once makes us want to be more. I guess it's okay. As long as we also ponder on things that really matter, and make all efforts to keep it close by.

Before it's too late.

Popski

My pops and I went to hear mass today. We always go together, him and me. But there was friction between the two of us for more than a month, and we only made amends recently. So recent it only happened on October 18th, my birthday.

Everything was as usual, until the end of the mass. It was raining; we didn’t have umbrella. It wasn’t when we left home. The church was so near our place that we only walked to get there. But it was raining. And when it is, even the nearest place appears so far.

I’m glad it did.

After the mass, my father decided that we walked our way home in spite of the raindrops that were starting to make me feel cold. It wasn’t raining that hard, he said. I disagreed. It wasn’t that hard, but it was enough to soak us wet. We decided to hail a tricycle (that was the most practical public vehicle within the vicinity) if we saw one. So I agreed to walk in the rain, thinking that it would end pretty soon as tricycles were easy to find.

My father probably wished for it, and he wished for it real hard, because despite my attempt to stop every tricycle I saw, none dared. My hair was dripping wet; I already felt stupid for agreeing to it. But for some reason, we appeared invisible to the tricycle drivers. Noone stopped.

Since we had a long argument, which normally never lasted for more than a day or two until recently, I never spoke to my father. He arrived home; I didn’t take his hand to make ‘mano’. When he’s with me on the sofa watching our favorite telenovela, I dared not speak. I only spoke if my mom’s with us. This probably made him feel uncomfortable, because he didn’t stay for long. He would go up and do other things instead. He never finished any soap. Because I was there.

My father is the kind of man whom you’d feel intimidated. He is a big man. He also oozes an aura of someone who’s on top. He works to lead people. He’s a detachment commander. Detachment commanders are usually men who had military background, or at least a college graduate. But my father is neither. Yet, he attained what he is right now. He walked his way up, gradually. Despite deficiencies, he was elevated. He proved how tough and capable he really is.

He may be a man a lot feel scared of when at work, but when he goes home, he transforms. He takes off his clothes and reveals his softer side. He becomes my father.

He is not perfect. Despite his attempts, my father has flaws which he cannot just cover. I hate him most of the time. He is sometimes inconsiderate; he wanted to be in control. If he wanted something, he would do anything to get it. Anything. Despite the risks.

But I guess what made my father very special are the little things he does. He listens to my jokes. I can talk to him almost about anything (yeah, including my crushes). He listens when I retell to him what I’ve seen on the cable, my childhood memories, my friends’ love life. He just listens.

We also had long walks. I go with him when he goes to the market to buy something for the fish. After purchasing, I take him to another route entirely different from the one we took to get to the market. A longer route, that is. Not practical? But my father does not complain. We traverse this route, me, doing the talking, and him, listening. He always listens.

I remember one breezy night. My father was watching TV; I was in my room trying to get a sleep at nine o’clock in the evening as I had to be in the office so early the next day. I couldn’t. I went down and asked my father if he wanted an ice cream, his treat, of course. He agreed.

The little things we do with the people we treasure the most are the true source of happiness. After we bought one for each of us, we headed for home. It was again starting to rain. I will never forget that scene where my father and I were eating ice cream while walking on the street, with the rain happily targeting our heads. We probably looked idiots, but we didn’t mind. We didn’t care. We ate our ice cream and walked our way back, chilling. Nothing can replace this memory. I will never forget.

And today, we were again walking, in our good wardrobes, soaking wet, with only his handkerchief on our heads to protect us from the rain. Now I know why he carries two hankies with him every time. We talked, walked slowly, and sipped every moment together. He probably missed it. I did. I missed talking to my father. I almost lost this secure feeling, knowing that my father will always be there for me. But I’ve learned.

And no, not even the rain, can stop us.