Note: Today is my dad’s fifth death anniversary. Allow me to repost this.

Whenever I say that the earliest memory I have is the accident wherein I had my left arm somewhat toasted, I lie. My earliest memory is, in fact, months before that.

It was a Saturday morning. I woke up to see the house in complete disarray. It seemed like we had been robbed. But there was no thief. There was only my father, rummaging through the house, looking for something. That time, he had just undergone surgery. He had a nasty liver.

I went out to see a number of people looking at my dad on the roof. He was also searching the roofs. And he kept on yelling, “Where are my millions?” It sounded silly because we were poor and there was no way our family savings could reach the million mark. But my dad kept looking for his “millions.” Take note, “millionS.” Plural.

(more…)

Almost three years ago, just when I thought I could not handle another mischievous kid in the family, God gave us another walking mayhem. Not many of you are aware that I also have a niece. And she’s just as endearing (the kind that you wanna strangle) as my nephew.

My niece is now three years old. She’s called Natalya. My nephew’s name is Yoshke. I gave him that name. He’s now five. For the sake of this blog entry and to avoid confusion, let’s call my nephew Yoshke “Nephew,” and my niece, “Niece.”

Nephew and Niece are seldom in the same place at the same time. You see, they are not siblings. They are cousins. Nephew is my sister’s son while Niece is my brother’s daughter. But whenever they are together, they make a hilarious duo. Nephew is shy but inquisitive. Niece is a star, hence she has a star complex. She is a queen bee in the making. Maldita. Atribida. Echosera.

What happens when they are together?

TWO GLASSES

Other than fighting, one of the activities that they love doing together is drawing. My brother-in-law is a painter. Nephew got that gene. (In fact, he was Best in Art in his batch last year.) One time, I joined them in their crayon-happy session and told them to draw whatever entered my head. I asked them to draw a flower; they did. I asked them to draw a house; they did. I asked them to draw a pencil; they did.

And then I asked them to draw a glass and a plate.

Using a pencil, Nephew did it well. He colored the plate blue (like the real plate he actually uses). And then left the glass colorless. It’s transparent, anyway, so I let it go.

Niece, on the other hand, colored her plate pink. I was about to praise how well she drew the glass when she whipped out a black crayon and scribbled all over it until the glass was almost completely covered.

“WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!?! WHAT’S THAT?” I asked.

“Black gulaman,” was her answer.

TWO MANGOES

The same thing happened when Me-Ann, their tutor, asked them to draw a ripe mango.

Nephew colored it green. “It’s not ripe yet,” he argued. “It will turn yellow later.”

Niece colored hers black. Before their tutor could even ask, she declared, “It’s already rotten.”

(more…)

It’s been really, really difficult to feature my nephew here lately. I seldom see him since I visit Batangas once every three weeks. But finally, I have collected enough anecdotes under one theme. All it took was a little trip to Antipolo!

BLOOD OF CHRIST

When I visit Batangas, one of the tasks that I need to do is to accompany my nephew to church. At first, I was hesitant to do this because I’m agnostic and I don’t believe in religion. However, since no one actually knows about this side of mine, I don’t really have a choice.

His dad is not Catholic so he won’t take him. Other members of the family attend the 6am mass, too early and too cold for a toddler. So the burden is passed on to me every time and I pretend I enjoy the priest’s homily and endure the physical workout that is kneeling and standing every now and then..

It’s interesting to go to church with an inquisitive kid. For one, I am always careful not to mention my beliefs (or the lack thereof). His mother wants him to be raised a faithful Catholic, hence the Catholic school and his obsession to Sto. Nino.

One Sunday morning at the local church:

Nephew: Are priests drunkards?
Yoshke: Well, it’s wine. It’s healthy.
Nephew: I’m not allowed to drink wine.
Yoshke: That’s because you are a kid.
Nephew: When I grow up, I too will drink wine in front of many people.
Yoshke: No, it’s not like that. Weren’t you listening to the priest? The wine symbolizes the blood of Christ.
Nephew: The wine is the blood of Jesus’?

He looked at the statue hanging at the end of the church. It’s an image of Jesus Christ, nailed on the cross, soaked in blood. He stared at it for what was like 10 seconds and turned to me.

Nephew: Why would they want to drink that?

He began scratching his head. And I answered, “I have no idea.”

THE OLD MAN ON TV!

Last Sunday, my family and I went to the Our Lady of Peace and Good Voyage in Antipolo City, Rizal. The entire time I was with my nephew. My sister and the rest of the family went inside the church and insisted that my nephew be left with me since the place was already crowded and other devotees chose to stay outside anyways. There were TV screens outside the church so the ones outside could see the priest and what was happening inside.

I was shocked when he asked, “Tito, can we switch that to Cartoon Network? The old man is boring.”

JUST CAN’T WAIT

“Tito, is it over yet? Let’s go to Enchanted Kingdom now!”

It had only been 10 minutes but my nephew was already itching to go to Enchanted Kingdom in Laguna, which was next in our itinerary.

Yoshke: Well, we need to finish the mass before we could go.
Nephew: How long is this going to take?
Yoshke: Like usual. Less than an hour.
Nephew: (sad face) Why do we have to go through this?
Yoshke: We just need to.
Nephew: Why?
Yoshke: Because you won’t be allowed to enter Enchanted Kingdom without listening to the priest telling you that you have sinned.
Nephew: Why?
Yoshke: Because!
Nephew: Why?!?! (just about to throw tantrums)
Yoshke: You see that lady <points to a figure of Mama Mary in front of the church>. Well, that’s Our Lady of Enchanted Kingdom! If you don’t stay here longer, she’ll know. You won’t like that.

He behaved like an angel.

(more…)

When I was young, my mum and my sister fed me ideas that I ingested and digested until I realized I had been Punk’d.

Wag ka lulunok ng buto ng santol, tutubo yan sa loob ng katawan mo.

I understand the intention. But hey, I actually bought that. I even went telling my classmates about it and discouraged them from taking in seeds of santol or any other fruit. And so eating watermelon suddenly became a painstaking activity. And dirty, too.

Imagine how horrified we felt knowing we had eaten a lot of guava fruits before. At tangena lang. Subukan mong wag kainin ang buto nun.

I believed it until the tiny little organ in my head called brain acquired information that it was impossible for a plant to actually grow inside the human body. But hey, I was just a boy.

I know I’m not alone. For sure, your parents have told you a lot of scary, traumatizing things that turned out to be untrue and utterly stupid.

• Matulog ka sa hapon kundi hindi ka tatangkad.
• Pag nabungi ka, kelangan mong ibaon sa lupa yung ngipin. O di kaya, itapon mo sa bubong. Para tubuan ka ulit ng isa pang ngipin.
• Wag ka matutulog ng basa ang buhok, mababaliw ka. Or mabubulag ka. (Depende sa nanay mo.)
• Wag ka kakain ng itlog bago mag-exam kundi zero ang score mo.
• Wag ka maglalaro pag Mahal na Araw kasi patay ang Dyos. Pag nagkasugat ka, hindi gagaling yan. May lalabas na pari at kanin sa sugat mo.
• Wag mo ituturo ang rainbow, mapuputol ang daliri mo.
• Wag ka magpapahakbang sa ibang tao, hindi ka na tatangkad. Pag nahakbangan ka na, kailangan balikan ka nya.
• Wag ka magsisinungaling, hahaba ilong mo. (Thanks Pinnochio for the inspiration.)
• Wag ka magta-tanga-tangahan. Pag nahipan ka ng masamang hangin, magiging permanente yan.
• Wag ka magne-nailcutter pag gabi kasi parang sinusumpa mo yung magulang mo. (Huh?)
• Wag ka magne-nailcutter pag Biyernes, may mamamatay.

Kumusta naman! Andami ko nang napatay! Baka ako pa yung dahilan nung 9/11! Nag-nailcutter kasi ako the night before! Haha.

ANLABO! Pero aminin nyo, one time in your life, you actually believed at least one of these.

Last week, I just told my nephew that if he kept on having fried chicken every meal, he’d turn into a big chicken.

Pasa-pasa lang yan. Pagkakataon ko na gumanti. Mwahaha.
*image courtesy of  bbc.co.uk

“Isn’t Dad enough? Isn’t Dad enough?”

Whenever I’d face God for a little conversation, this was all I could tell him. “Isn’t Dad enough?” And in between words were cries of anger and sighs of disappointment.

But now, after the successful surgery yesterday and knowing that cancer never really hit second base, my prayers are composed of two words. “Thank you.”

I already lost a parent to cancer, I won’t give up the other to the same killer. Never.

…

Dear cancer,

You failed to get my mother. Just her boobs. Enjoy.

We won.

Now, fuck off and stay away from my family.

Pfffffbt!

…

On the way to my apartment last Tuesday morning, I suddenly became the victim of a hit-and-run somewhere along Kamuning Road. It wasn’t a major accident but DAMN.

My left foot got run over by a black car. (Was I cursing in Arabic?)

My left arm was also hurt. Got a wound on my elbow.

Failed to see the plate number. It was fast. Asshole driver. The light was RED!

But I believe in Karma. And I know there’ll be damnation for the driver. I am leaving it up to St. Peep Peep, the patron saint of hit-and-run victims.

…

I was climbing the stairs to the North Avenue Station of MRT yesterday morning when I tripped on my toe and fell almost flat on my tummy. My face on the floor.

Cue: “Clumsy coz I’m falling in looove…” (Fergie)

But I won’t blame love really. Blame the frakkin’ driver of the frakkin’ car that ran over my frakkin’ foot.

…

Oh, allow me to be a bit narcissistic, answer my FriendTest. Hehehe.

And please help me do my job well. Answer the POLL question of the week on the sidebar. It’s work-related. Thank you very much.

My foot still hurts. Dammit.
*image courtesy of gannsdeen.com, risintide.org.uk

I’ve been sick since Monday. Tonsilitis again. Last year, I had this seven (or eight?) times. Gaaaah. Told ya, the relationship between infections and my tonsils is almost romantic. They love each other sooo much, they might elope in the near future. But if there’s any consolation, I’m losing weight FAST! Yay for that.

Anyway… Guess who’s back!!!

BECAUSE TEPID RAIN ISN’T FROM HEAVEN

One night, I was in the middle of a barren land. A few months before, it was a cane field. Then my childhood started playing in my head again. This was were my brother and I ran kites. This was were my friends and I played softball. This was were I used to kick my football around on. But this time was different. It was a cold evening. And it was raining. And I was happy. I haven’t walked in the rain in a long, long time.

Something was wrong, though. The water was warm.

And I woke up. It was a dream. I opened my eyes. And there was my nephew. Standing on the bed. Peeing. Sleep-peeing. On me.

Cue: Abba, “…I’ll cross the stream. I have a dream….”

BECAUSE GLOATING IS FUN

If there’s one thing that my nephew didn’t get from me, that’s shame. I have always had a strong sense of shame since I was a baby. (Yeah, I never made dede in public. Haha. Weh?)

My nephew, on the other hand, does what he wants when he wants it. Like dozing off. NEVER have I ever slept at the workplace or at school. But my nephew, gaah, his classroom is his bedroom. He finds it comfy. And no matter how hard his Teacher Janna tries, he always uses Science class hour for his nap time.

So when his first Periodic Exam came last August (?), I was a little scared for him. When we passed the gates of his school, he was greeted by many of his classmates’ parents with disheartening remarks. One of them even asked my nephew sarcastically, “Oh, how are you gonna pass this test when you always sleep your way through the classes?”

I couldn’t reply. Wait there, you old hag; I’ll come up with a sinister, condescending comment, I thought. But I couldn’t. No condescending comment was thrown. I was not sure how he was gonna make through this exam, either.

When the exam was over, I asked my nephew how it was. He shrugged, “It’s okay.”

The next day, I was waiting for my nephew’s class to finish. Apparently, the papers had been checked and the results were out.

(more…)

Exactly a month ago, I was staying at my brother’s room, watching Pushing Daisies (oh, Lee Pace is just sooo cute I wanna be dead and be touched by him), when my mother came in and said she wanted to talk. Something that never fails to send me to utter discomfort.

Mum: You told your Tita Esther you wanted to study in London?

Tita Esther is my mum’s friend who has just arrived from London. She visited last week and we kinda had a little chat and I kinda told her how much I wanted to study abroad.

Yoshke: Uhm, Er, I might have told her. Yuh.
Mum: You really want to?
Yoshke: Uhm, yeah, a bit.
Mum: Well, you may. I’m letting you.

(more…)

A grim incident has transformed our home into a mini-hospital. The air inside the house is perfumed with microbicides and alcohol. Trash bins are brimming with used bandages and cotton balls. Rooms are adorned with antibiotics and painkillers lying around. The coffee table is covered with CT scan results and X-Ray plates. And almost every day, visitors come pouring in with foods and gifts.

Yes, our house has suddenly become a hospital. This is because last Tuesday, almost a mile away from our house, there was a horrible road accident.

My mother, my brother and a maid were in it.

Fortunately, everyone is fine now.

I hate it when my friends talk about Bioman. Why? Because I can’t relate. I can’t remember even a single moment I watched Bioman. I don’t know what their powers were and what they could do. I don’t know its theme song, either. I remember Shaider, Ultraman, Koseidon, He-Man, She-Ra, Conan the Barbarian, Maskman, and Power Rangers. But Bioman? Nah. Na-uh. Nadah. Not really.

Funny because my earliest childhood memory was when I was 3 years old. (I’m 22; born 1986.) I remember a lot. As in A LOT. There is a myriad of vivid childhood images that I always play in my head. Sadly, none of those images are Bioman’s. Maybe because I didn’t watch it at all. You see, I’ve always been choosy. Haha.

Another kiddie TV classic that I just can’t remember watching? Batibot. Seriously. I don’t have any emotional connection to the show, Pong Pagong, Kuya Bodjie or Ate whoever-she-was. Every time I try to rummage through my thoughts and search for a bit of any Batibot-related memory, what I always find is ATBP (Awit, Titik, Bilang na Pambata) — Trisha, Rex, Carlo, Tito Miguel (Piolo Pascual), and that ridiculous Kapitan Bilang. No Batibot.

You might be thinking that I missed a great deal of my childhood and how great a loser I was when I was a kid for not watching these programmes. But I think I had a childhood that many would envy. It’s just that TV wasn’t really that fun for me that time. Fun was outdoors. You see, I was a country boy. Haha. Lumaki ako sa lalawigan ng magigiting (Batangas). Less than a mile north of our house are woods and hills; south, a vast field and the beach. TV wasn’t that fun. Fun were the following:

• flying/running kites
• wandering around and playing hide-and-seek in the forest
• climbing trees
• stealing fruits from some farmer’s orchard
• shooting birds with a slingshot (I was cruel as a kid)
• hunting spiders for fights on stick
• catching fireflies and grasshoppers
• catching salagubang (June beetle), cutting its legs one by one, and letting it fly while tied to my wrist

Those were my definition of fun even after I was introduced to Sarah, Cedie, Remi, Julio, Julia, Mary, Romeo, another Remi, Tom, Huck, Cinderella, and the rest of them losers. And then, the magnificent world of violent anime. Haha. Starting with Sailormoon. (Er, okay, violent gay anime. Haha.) Zenki, B’t X and Thunder Jet soon followed. And then, the wacky Mojacko and Doraemon.

And oh, I remember being addicted to Superbook and Flying House. Thanks to my Catholic upbringing.

And yeah, right now I just miss my childhood.