Snow Will Never Fall In Manila (A Walk In The Memorial Park)

Wow, two weeks into 2011 and already it seems to me that half of the year has gone by. There are so many mind-blowing events and issues of late that keep me physically and mentally occupied. What a way to anticipate the Year of the Metal Rabbit.

Last weekend, though, I found the time to walk around the memorial park where Je, my grandparents, and a very good friend were buried.It was a relaxing walk, much like a stroll in the park. I saw a number of families having picnic by the grave of their loved ones. I thought it sweet for families to bond this way. It is a far better alternative than going to the stuffy shopping malls or overcrowded amusement centers.

I do my own bonding as well, and this I try to do on a regular basis. Why I do so, there is no earth-shaking answer. It is just my quest for calm and communion ... and I think, I have a feeling, that I may not be able to do these visits to the graves on a regular basis in the near future anymore ....

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You see, just when everyone here in the city is beginning to think that Manila will never get to experience below 22 degrees centigrade temperature, the weather has become gray and a bit cold in the past few weeks. It is a pleasant surprise. It is still not as cold as the Manila of my childhood, when we would bundle ourselves with jackets and vests during the cold months of December and January. Presently, I still do not feel the need to wear warm clothing.

So I walked, the wind gently hitting my face as I looked around. I took photos of trees that have shed their crown as if they know what autumn means. Autumn, for the information of my readers who have never set foot on Philippine soil, does not happen here.

Nor does snowfall. Too bad, for I have never seen snow. Someone once told me that watching a calm snowfall is akin to gazing at nature's poetry. This photo can probably deceive, though. It is as if Manila is entering into winter, and all that lacks is snow. Of course, it is an illusion.

My own snowfall is somewhere else. I am still seeking it. Maybe it won't take long til I find it.

Happy Birthday, Je

Je Bautista: Jan 1, 1966-April 4, 2009

You would have been 45.

Someone saw you in his dreams recently. It was a very vivid dream, he said.

That particular friend and I were talking to a priest, asking how you are. you were said to have spoken directly to him, my friend. Something to this effect.

Don't worry about me. I am happy where I am now.

Then a vision of Heaven.

When I heard this story, I was filled with every emotion imaginable: longing, sorrow, elation ... joy.

But it is ok. I do not mind my human sorrow, for it hardly compares to the gift of eternal joy.

Happy Birthday, Je.

Do not worry much about me. I can take care of myself in this world.

L'amour est L'eternel. Take care forever.

HAPPY NEW 2011: Resolutions, Looking Back, Looking Forward

My current pet: Pegasus

What better way to revive this sleeping blog than to make my first ever post here for 2011. :)

This is the start of a new decade, and hopefully a start of a fresh chapter in life. The past few years are some of the most trying, most life-changing, most enlightening, most joyful and sorrowful in my entire existence.

Experiences have both been hard and enriching, gut-wrenching and awe-inspiring. My life may not probably be the best, nor the worst, but definitely far from being ordinary, much to my chagrin. (I always find myself wanting to be more, uhm, "regular" ... but "dull" is not a main ingredient in my life, it seems.)

The Things That I Have Added To My Realizations List In The Past Few Years:

1. It will never be easy to cut oneself from someone or something that made you a better person, even though that person or thing has long gone away. As such, the term "moving on" does not apply.

2. Despite having adequately prepared, no one is completely ready for anything, whether that be love, marriage, or death.

3. Kindness comes when you least expect it. (I keep on forgetting this.)

4. Time will always be the best healer. (Also often-forgotten, it is not a new lesson.)

5. Time will come when unloading is inevitable.

I have made a vow this year. This decade will be mine. I wish everyone a Blessed 2011.

I Know Of At Least Three Painless Ways To Go ... [Yes, Read On]

... but why should I tell you?

Two of them are kind of tricky to accomplish. You will need easy access to medications.

The other way was taught to me by someone who attempted to go this way ... but failed.

This method is supposedly fool-proof. A small amount of this flavourless and odorless chemical mixed with your favorite drink is enough to make you dizzy on the spot. Some end up sleeping until they ultimately go. Others throw up but that is just about it. Exiting the world cannot be easier and more painless.

For that particular person who told me about this, however, it did not exactly work that way. Obviously so.

As soon as he drank his soda admixed with the killer agent, his mind started blurring. He still had time, however, to send some sms messages to friends. But no, he did not mention anything about his deed to anyone that time.

No one had an inkling then that he had just committed suicide.

Shortly after, he vomitted profusely. he still had the energy to go to the bathroom to puke. He then returned to his bed, feeling very sleepy.

He told me that he had dreams, but nothing scary, nothing nightmarish. I could not exactly remember what he told me.

The limbo-ish state seemed to have lasted forever until ...

... finally, he opened his eyes. He was famished.

He tarried for a while, wondering if he was for real.

He walked towards the door of his house and opened it. Hear his feet lay newspapers. He picked them up. The oldest issue was 3 days old.

He thought: I was asleep for 3 days?

Next thought: Am I really this much of a loser? I actually botched a suicide attempt!

Then another thought: What is the meaning of this?

Perhaps, it seems, this has become one of his purposes in life: to live to tell his tale.

And the whole point of this post is to stress this out: given even the most potent way to kill oneself, a few people simply survive.

Do you ever wonder why suicide attempts materialize for some people and fail for others?

Do you ever sometimes think that, when you are meant to live, while a purpose remains unfulfilled, no bullet can bring you down, and no poison can take your life away?

And when you are meant to go, no amount of hiding nor protection can shield you from the sickle?

Just some mind-boggling thoughts. Have a good day.

A Dark Moment In Recent History, Friendships, and Then Some

The bus of death (Photo from this site.)

Sigh. I have not updated this blog in weeks. Things are happening in rapid succession. The most talked-about (until now!) issue that has recently made an ugly dent on the face of the Philippine diplomatic affairs is the hostage taking in Manila that took place roughly 3 weeks ago.

Actually, there are many more positive events that took place soon after. The Phlippines’ candidate to the Miss Universe pageant, Ms. Venus Raj, bagged the 4^th runner-up place. Our artists such as Charice Pempengco and Cecille Licad are doing us proud in endeavours such as the hit musical “Glee” and the silent film on Louis Armstrong titled “Louis”. I can go on and on, trying to obliterate the nightmare of this unfortunate incident that threatens to mar my country’s relationship with China.

Personally, I can only hope that things get better and that people from both side of the fragile fence keep from overreacting. Objectivity and sobriety are what we need right now. Plus, Hong Kong is almost like my second home. I lived in Hong Kong for many months and I have so many fond memories of this wonderful place and of the sincere friends that I had made. So it breaks my heart to see this happening. I love Hong Kong. And even after this crazy hostage-taking incident that cost the lives of 8 Hong Kong and Canadian (Chinese) residents, my good friends in Hong Kong remain level-headed and have assured me of a strong continuing friendship.

It was a most touching gesture from my Chinese friends. You have my respect, admiration, and amity.

So many things taking place too on the personal front. My life, at the moment, circles around a life-changing test that is coming up in less than a month. Please wish me luck.

In the meantime, this blog will continue to exist. Of course I will continue to write. There are just few things more relaxing than writing. Did I hear someone say “Spa!” or was that my doppelganger whispering in my ear?

Ok. Next post please. J

Aw, Un Tres Adorable Video

Yes. I like Chinese. And after my stay in Hong Kong, I like them even more.

Below: Song off Monty Python as sung by Eric Idle

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L'amour n'est pas la poésie, l'amour n'est pas le crépitement silence des pieds dans une danse.
L'amour n'est pas le soleil, l'amour n'est pas la pluie.

L'amour est éternel. L'amour est L'Éternel.♥

Suicide As Anything But A Cowardly Act

Forgive me for the rather morbid theme. Suicide as a subject was strutting here and there in my head as I was doing my own shuttling from clinic to clinic one cloudy afternoon.

It is definitely because of the news that I read and watched for a few days in a row. The local news reported suicide: varying reasons, varying methods of killing oneself. So many cases of suicide in these hard stressful time: unlike most cases of mortality, suicide is not exactly identified with a particular age group or social status.

Suicide is treated almost like taboo in this predominantly Catholic country. I am quite sure that many view suicide as an easy way out. Maybe true. Or maybe not.

Perhaps suicide is, contrary to popular opinion, anything but cowardly after all. Let me state this...at least for the sake of discussion.

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If a person would like to end his life because the world treated him like shit, is it not more cowardly to physically run away than to look at death in the eye?

Many means of ending one's life are brutal and painful. Not everyone knows, much so have access to the very few ways of taking one's own life painlessly. Is it not a courageous thing to do, for a person to make himself go through gruesome methods of self-mutilation? (Let's not even get started with the pathophysiology of self-afflicted gunshot wounds, or concussions from a fall, or ingestion of poison, or hanging....) If the person thought, "I did not have much of a choice, I'd take anything, even a painful death", doesn't that make him quite brave?

And is it cowardice that drives a person to end his life because he no longer wants to be a burden to his loved ones? Is it not brave of him to take his life, knowing that his family and friend will eventually bear the burden of "... not doing enough to save him"?

Is it frailty of character to commit suicide because it is honestly perceived by that person as the right thing to do? Situations that endanger the lives of many may call for one to give his own life, out of necessity. Is that the way of the weak?

A friend once wrote: what if we realize that suicide is actually the way that was meant for us to get out of this world? Is it criminal, even blasphemous, when a person is so very convinced that God (or any Supreme Being) wants him to leave the physical world by killing oneself ... especially for a particular purpose?

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It is almost always difficult to react when we hear of people committing suicide, even more so when we know these people on a personal level. The unenviable situation of being acquainted with the person who took his own life makes for a very traumatic experience, to say to the least. Sometimes, however, we need to try to understand the circumstances and the manner by which the person arrived at the decision to commit suicide. Doing so may prove to be beneficial later on, when we least expect it...

...especially so when we find ourselves, uncannily, in a situation where suicide appears to be an option.

If You Are Scared Of Ghosts...

...that is, if you are scared of the ghosts of your past thoughts, then I strongly advise you to never, ever open the pages of your diary, or your planner, or even read the small print at the margins of your notebook (probably scribbles of your thoughts while listening to a boring speaker).

However, if you think you can stand by everything you have written in the past, then ok, skim over your journals ... but I am telling you, I know of no one who was not amused, infuriated, saddened, and most especially, shamed by his own writings, as if he is being haunted by his own past.

I am not an exception.

As I was sorting some stuff recently I chanced upon my planners where I would on occasions write down my random thoughts. Most entries amused me and opened the floodgate through which memories flowed in profusely. Some did shame me, especially scribbles stating my opinions on certain people and issues (revelation of my lesser virtues such as ignorance, intolerance, and insecurity). Some entries made me sad ...

... and some entries struck me like deja vu, especially this one entry that I wrote last December 12, 1994.

At this point I stop to think as it seems everything confuses me.

I know that there is a destiny designed for me and it may not be what I once thought it was.

I long to find out what it really is.

Things do go full circle. I have just come face to face with one scary ghost.