I've written 'Goodbye, Sam' months ago for the literary folio of my university. It is a story of one brother who struggled hard to keep a promise to a younger sibling. What makes me write about it today is because that story also touches on the cruelty of cancer and how it separates people, loving people, from each other.

I believe that all love stories have an ending. I've written it before that "happily ever after" can only be found in books. Soul mates or whatever they call two people who love each other too much these days can really never stay together until the end, physically that is though. I believe that somewhere along the way as two people make memories, something, someone or a divine intervention (if you can call it that) would come in the way stopping what would have been a happy ever after.

Yes. It may sound cruel but it's the reality of things.

Take my friends, Payang and Blesie's case.

They met in college. They fell in love. They fought hard - hunger, persecutions by friends and family and thousand more other trials. Those problems they face like bubbles on a dry summer day - meaning, the problems never really last. They end up marrying each other. They have a child, a beautiful girl they nicknamed "Cloney." Their story is a beautiful love story - one that, for me, deserves a happy ending.

But life happens. Something came in the way stopping them. Ble passed away a week or so ago. He fought cancer. Knowing Ble for some time, I know that he fought well. I know he struggled to keep his life, battled with whatever strength he has left, all for a lovely wife who adores him more than anyone and for a child he wanted so badly to see grow.

But he didn't make it. I don't know what it was like to be beside him as his life drains away from him. I know in his bed, as he tried to smile to comfort a worried wife, he has been asking the Big Guy in heaven "Why him?" And I know more than the pain he bears, he was more worried for the family he would leave behind - a young wife who would lose a husband and a daughter who wouldn't have a father. And Ble knows that they didn't deserve that.

What follows is an excerpt of Payang's letter to the malevolent Mr. Cancer. It is heart-wrenching but I like it best when she said: "Now my loving husband is dead...You might have been the reason of his early death but, you failed to change our faith. His Faith in God will lead him to Everlasting Life. In the end, Blesie is still the winner. The grandeur of everlasting life still belongs to him."

A friend confided in me yesterday that she's already hating the people around her, - that life is slowly and painfully becoming miserable. She can't believe how those whom she consider her friends can become her enemies in so short a span of time and from the charming people that they were, they abruptly became shallow and mean bitches.

And she asked, "Ain't we supposed to be nice?"

And she asked again, "Aren't we told to be good to one another?"

And I asked her back, "who told you exactly that it is a rule to be nice?"

And I followed up, "when was being nice a requirement for everyone?"

And I ranted that being nice doesn't guarantee that one would gain the best people and make them one's friends. I told her, often, being nice would only get her in more trouble.

We ended our conversation without settling anything. She still believes that despite people's meanness to her, she owes it to herself to remain in character. I believe that niceness should only be applied to people who deserve it.

The truth is, I applaude her martyrdom. Good job, blah blah blah. But I know she would remain miserable all her life because she thinks the happiness of people around her lies in her being nice. Not good!

Nice is overrated.

"People should be cruel in order to be kind." Such was our motto in college and I forgot about it until now. Until I was humiliated and degraded by a person whom I originally thought was nice. Until I was pushed into the corner by a person who says one thing and mean the other. Until I was boxed out by a bitch whom I originally thought was smart but I've proven to be an egomaniac and stupid (nasty combination by the way!).

So "nice" is going out of the window.

If my friend would want to become the forever Good Samaritan that she is, fine. For me, there is a point where everything ends. And I already reached that point.

So bring it on! You've seen nothing of me yet!

I missed the days when I think of none
But things that are so fun
I missed the days where all that matters
Is nothing really, there were no worries.

I missed the times when camping out
Means having to worry bout parents pout
I missed the times when being on my own
Is not a good thing cause Im too young.

I missed the moments when I was free
From the burden of adulthood, was I lucky?
I missed the moments when all I care about
Is where to go next with friends abound.

But today is the day of responsibility
And the time is time to be a somebody.
This is the moment were life is messy
Because being an adult is taking liability.

I was in a hurry to grow yesterday
And when I got here finally
I wanted to go back to a time
When life was fun, and what matters is none really.

No matter how great a person is, without validation, he still is nothing.

I’m ecstatic with the thought that I earned it, that I am “it.”

I know a lot of you won’t have any idea what I’m talking about. But in my line of work, an email from my boss (a portion is posted below) is as important as hearing the words “Good Job!”

The wait is finally over and new challenges are yet to come but I welcome them, like they are rain from the sky after a dreadful drought.

Long way ahead but I’d make it. I will make it. Deym, I’m proficient and that means something.

With my book in the works (I’m in Chapter 6 now, hurray!) and yes it’s taking a while but before the end of this year, I already have something to present.

Hopefully my friend who knew several publishers would be able to do something to get it published.

Cheers to life. And this one's to the future!

Let's talk about hair.

It's been a long time coming and this is the perfect time to talk about it. While everyone else is celebrating Holy Thursday and skipping meat as part of their penitence, from my end, I think I had been doing mine ever since I graduated college.

During the Lenten Season, they say that you have to give up something that you really love. It just so happen that for most people, they love their food. I'm not Catholic so the practice shouldn't bother me. But for the sake of this article, let me tell you why losing my hair becomes my penitence and why the Lenten Season never stopped for me.

This is the usual conversation.


Office Colleague 1: Hey, where are you going?
Me: Out. Just buying lunch.
Office Colleague 2: Let us go with you.

Outside.

OC1: It's so hot. Why is it so freaking hot?
OC2: That's actually not my problem. My problem is that something hurts my eye.
OC1: Oh. I see what you mean.
OC2: (Looking at me.)Would you mind covering your head. The sun's reflection is killing me.

Boohoooo!!!! Funny!!!

I'm not sure if you get what they mean but everytime we are out and the sun is blistering hot, they blame my head for creating so much eye sore. It use to annoy me a lot and God forgive me, I pray for the day that everyone else start losing their manes so that they would know how ashamed they make me feel.

I have genes to blame for this tragedy. Well, I use to think of it as a tragedy but not anymore. Looking at my pictures in college with my voluminous hair and taking picture with me on a wig (well-sort-of), I look like an idiot. It's actually better that I totally get rid of my hair.

The usual banter about my being bald (more of thin hair) is not causing me distress anymore. Deep down inside, everytime they call me names for my apparent lack of hair, I shout "Is that the best you got?"

And deep down, I'm also praying that God would do justice and I pray hard that one day, those who bully me will get what they deserve. I don't want them going bald, that would be too funny. I just wish their teeth get all knocked off. How's that for a tragedy?

(Or maybe I'll knocked their teeth for them, just for the fun of it. Hahaha)

They have 9 children. My mom, Juliet, became the eldest when the very first child, Judith, died when she was in her teens. She was married to one man, the same man she married some 50 or so years ago. Her husband celebrated his 74th birthday just this April and she herself will celebrate her 74th soon. She's not the hopeless romantic type.

She's part Spanish and one of the prettiest in her youth. She has many suitors but my lolo said he never said any word. He bragged that he just looked at her and they knew.

Their growing up years were not the best of years. They have seen the atrocities of war and they knew suffering more than anyone having to raise 9 children with only their land as a source of income. They have seen the worst and the best of each other and despite thousands of disappointments and frustrations, they are still together.

Through her experiences, I believe my lola has every right to define what love is. And for my benefit and some other young people who have trouble understanding what it means, this is how she put it:

Going home had enlightened me about a lot of things primary of which is that I have to let go - let go of people, of ideals, of fantasies and of the past.

To summarize, going home is about closure.

I'd been judged. I'd been asked to do things I don't like and pressured to make the decisions I don't agree with.

But those days are over.

I have decided to move ahead to the future. I've decided to never look back.

Last night, I have a long conversation with my brother. We talked about a lot of things and finally, I was able to say things I'd been keeping for so long. Finally, there was someone to share with the sorrows about our little imperfect family.

The truth is, I don't know if telling my brother the things I told him was a good thing but somehow, at the end of the day, it felt right. So it was a closure for a nasty internal conflict for me. I've decided to let it go.

And then I closed that chapter - the one that I'd keep to myself, the fantasy that will never come true because as already said -it's a fantasy. It was a childhood dream which failure of coming true hurts a lot. I have to accept defeat and face it like an adult. And I am an adult now. No more make believes.

Lastly, I will no longer be pressured to do things I don't like. It's a thing of the past. I will make my decision at my own time, at my own pace. If people hate me for it, so be it.

There is a saying that goes "no good deed goes unpunished."

Honestly I don't know what it meant and I don't even want to understand what it meant. I lost it at "no."

Most days when Jeri (my colleague at work who's probably one of the best people I've meet - attitude wise) take Edsa, I hitched along and there was this sort of ritual he keeps on doing.

Exiting the 5th floor of the parking area can be very annoying at times especially by 6pm when people are in a hurry. Other drivers would try to take over and even if he was next in the line, he'd keep his cool, let the car pass and then tell himself, "There's my good deed for the day."

At first I found it naive of him but in time, I've come to realize that it makes more sense and it doesn't hurt anyone. It became my inspiration.

Yeah, what if I too, would make sure that I do something good each day? It might not be much but it is something.

It can be as simple as giving my seat to an elderly at the bus, or maybe hold the door for someone while exiting the building or can be as out-of-the-way as helping out in a donation drive for people hurt and victimized by calamity somewhere.

The goal is doing a good deed just for the plain silly reason of doing it. It's not going to make me rich but it sure wouldn't make me miserable as well.

So why not do it for the sake of fun and pure spirit of helping.

I want to make a habit of it. And for habits to form, it takes time. So I’ll take it slow. I’ll do it one day at a time until it becomes natural.

A good deed a day wouldn’t make me a saint but deym, I don’t want to be a saint. But by doing it, hopefully would keep the world in balance. While some people flourish in inflicting pains to others, tormenting the souls of the weak and less able, I do my deed.

Out of the billions of people, there are two of us who would do it every day – one single deed a day. It wouldn’t be enough to keep the karma balanced but it sure will be a difference.

So each day, I'd go my way doing one good deed. The person I'm giving it to may not realize that they just received a favor but let it be that way. Who knows, they will pass the good deed along unconsciously.

And maybe, just maybe… it would inspire others to do the same.

Just like this post for: “Here’s my good deed for the day.”

The Mayans had predicted that the world is going to end by December 2012. How it would happen, no one really knows, not even the Mayans. But the thought of end-of-world as we know it seem to fascinate a lot of people and some take it to the extreme it's becoming annoying.

So what if the world is to end by then? Would our freaking out and paranoia do anything?

I guess not.

To other people, the world had long ended long before the predicted time has even come. Heartaches had mean the end of the world to a few people I know. Not graduating college on time meant the end of the world to my former classmates. Getting pregnant and getting someone pregnant had been the end of the world to some of my closest friends.

So you see - the end of the world happens every day. It shouldn't cause any commotion at all. If we die, we die. There is no fighting it. We're all heading that way anyway.

I'm not saying this because I'm a pessimist. But I have long come to accept that there is no escaping death. I know the religious aspect of it and I'm not going to touch that. Reality is we can only fight so much but the end result is the same.

Instead of making a big fuzz about 2012, why not pay closer attention to what is happening at the moment.

If a pervert hurts a child, it should mean the end of the world to us.
If a drug pusher sells drugs to schools, it should mean the end of the world to us.
If parents hurt their children, or children hurt their parents, it should mean the end of the world to us.
If police are not doing their job or the government is failing its people, it should mean the end of the world to us.
If we fail to say good morning every day, it should mean the end of the world to us.
When someone fails to do a good dead, it should mean the end of the world to us.

Let's not wait for a catastrophe or calamity to strike long before we tell ourselves that the world is ending. The world had been heading to harm’s way a long time ago. It has been on the road of destruction more than we can remember. Let's all stop acting like children and start making changes.

And something as small as candy wrappers on the street should mean the end of the world to us.
Just because it's too small of a commotion doesn't mean it shouldn’t be noticed.

A week and two days from now, I'm heading home.
Home is but just a dot in the map.
If not for the volcano where our city got its name from, I, myself would be having a hard time finding it in the map.

What I like about my small city in the mountain are the falls, and the rivers and the trees (assuming there still are.) I wanted to brag about the wonderful places there but I rather have the pictures do the talking so watch out for them.

Here's a to-do list for me:


1. Stop at every town from Dumaguete all the way to Canlaon in one day.
2. Visit at least 5 beaches. (When I get back, I'll be tanner than the ridiculous Jersey Shores gang.)
3. Deliver a mind-blowing lecture on my university's student publication. (Yep, they invited me again.)
4. Ask grandma and grandpa to cook me some baye-baye, and my favorite kalamay-hati. (I'll post pics to give you an idea what these are.)
5. Bond with Chy and Ice and hopefully will have a mind blowing vacation.

This vacation will be about spending time with my grandparents. Some of my experiences will be made public while most of them, the intimate one, I rather keep to myself.

Looking forward. :)

The 21st is a few more days away. I'm going to grow old another year. It's not as exciting as it used to be. I'm not even excited about gifts anymore. I just wanted people to be there.

The last time that I'd been excited about gifts was December about 10 to 15 years ago. We used to have this new year family gathering and my titas from Bacolod would all come home. We all spend the new year in lola's house. Once 12 midnight strikes, we'd open the gifts and my brothers and cousins and I would have new clothes and notebooks or shoes depending on what our parents requested.

The prospect of having new things for new year, speculating what it could be, was fun even to our parents and lola and lolo. Then life happened. I've grown my own wings, tails and even horns. The gifts became all about the price and the newness, not the thought and the preparation. Whenever I'm given something, I started to complain. "It's not even new." "Duh, it's just a remnant of what they wore."

And then the gift giving stopped. And I started to miss it.

I wanted gifts to be given as a surprise. I often don't want it on my birthday because presently most people see gift giving as an obligation rather than as a source of joy to the person who's receiving it. And I don't want anyone to feel obligated. I want people to be happy for me because another year has passed and I'm still alive. I wanted people to pray for me so that I can be safe for another year and hopefully still celebrate another birthday.

Because when I die, it's not the gifts that would matter anymore.

For my birthday, I wish for your happiness. May it be in family, in job, in life - I hope you find it.

I'd like to believe that I found my happiness. And having said that, I hope God wouldn't think of me as selfish to request for the said happiness for life. Even if life - is short.

My old blog was updated like ages ago. I don't want to delete it because I still feel a connection to it but I think the time has come for me to move on.

"Empty graves on nobody’s valley" was created to give way to the angst of a younger me. I've grown old and I'm no longer the innocent pacifist that I used to be. I learn a lot of things in life and they were terrible. I no longer believe in good versus evil. I believe in good coexisting with evil. I believe that one person is capable of doing both given the opportunity. I believe that as evil triumph, good is just standing by watching as people suffer maybe drinking mojito and too drunk to care and when his drunkenness has passed, he'd try to win again only that it's too late.

I don't know exactly what I meant by what I wrote - only that it felt right. That good is becoming more and more lax with his role and that evil is becoming more and more persistent is truer than I can even swear. I can feel it in me. It's exciting but more than that, I fear it.

As I say goodbye to Empty graves, I will welcome tearing (dot) wall. He would become my new friend. He will contain every complaint, every mischief, every fucking failure I do. Tearing (dot) wall would put me to shame. He would mock me and laugh at my weaknesses. He would tear me into pieces just like he would tear that wall (whatever that is).

But I believe that by doing this, I'd come out triumphant. In what way, I've got to figure that out. But in every mockery and insult, I'd become strong - thick faced so that when that final test would come, my facing with evil - the goodness left in me would be enough to crush him down.

We had long journey “empty graves”. I would miss you. I would miss your sunny facade and your goody-vibe. But I will not forget you. I may wake you up again someday. Only if I get back that innocence, that belief in good that I already lost.

Tearing (dot) wall, you would become a challenge for me. But you'd help me figure things out, whether you like it or not. We'll traverse life together from now on and don't ever give up on me.
Here's to a new beginning. And to the end of a good friend.