Move

Summing it all up, I've probably spent too much time and effort assisting my mother in her ventures. I was the only one who could say yes and do it. I was the only one who was probably brought up to say yes and do it. And currently, I am the only one who says yes, does it and doesn't really mind if it hits the fan.

Fact, yes. Complaint, no.

Why complain if it's a wake up call screaming at me? I've probably done enough that it has spoiled her rotten to make her work sloppy. I spoiled my own mother. I don't want that. Not speaking antagonistically, it's just that it's not good anymore. Too much isn't good.

I'm done thinking. It's time to move.

My sister's leaving for San Francisco this August and with that, I'll probably have less holding me back from doing what I must and doing what I want.

I want a life that is mine.

And it's about to begin, with but a thought, I've already created.

A very special friend of mine told me earlier that I should stop being so nice. I guess he didn't mean it the way I read it over my mobile, via SMS. Right, I was so nice that I was aching to help clean other peoples' back yards forgetting about mine in the equation.

I'm not being selfish here, but I've a gut feeling this isn't how it's supposed to work. My mother had parents too. She had to elope with my dad to get a life of her own. Maybe her parents had their tentacles everywhere that it choked like virgin ass. For a time, she probably hated their guts and for the moment she's somewhat exactly like them. Ironies of ironies, eh?

I will do this. But why? Ok, there has to be an answer. Why will I do this? For myself? Yes, probably but that's not the entire answer to it. I have to become better and stronger I guess. I've to do this because I do not have enough power and influence to make the changes I want as of yet, so I guess I'll start moving slowly but surely, with this goal in mind.

I wanna make changes. For myself because this is going to hit others. This is going to wake fatso, downstairs, in his room, up in a way that he's going to really want to wake up and do things. This is going to make mom realize that nobody should be, be it your kids or your employees, expendable and it is a terrible mistake to run away from your errors and let others fix it for you.

To that friend of mine who texted that sagaciously received SMS, I know he'll be the first one reading this now.

I see him as a towering inferno searing with passion for what he does and he is not the type to let things easy on anyone when he does his craft. No, actually that's what others and most would probably see him. To me, he is one of those few good men left on earth who know the very essence of honor and respect, though he may not be the type to admit it. He likes acting tough. It's peculiar. And I respect that.

Ah, why respect? He knows the truth about me. He dubs this virus in me 'the shrimp'. Watta Tempura, huh? He is the first in his premise to know it and amazingly embrace it. Though he noted that he has always been looking for a friend like me.

I called myself one of the 'forsaken'. He believes me to be one of the 'chosen'.

With mere words anyone of us can create something.

This is the true fibre of 'God created man in His/Her own image and likeness.'-- He created us. We create things.

'Chosen'.

I choose to move. I've done too much and it has got them nowhere because they're supposed to do something too.

Easy? No, honestly, no. Everytime I feel the toll racing down my spine, I know I'll be closing my eyes and asking for help within. And I know I won't be closing my eyes just once or twice about this.

I must do this. I must move.

*Snaps for Everyone*

Another Survival

Why did it take so long for me to update again?

Well, see here, I've mentioned about being the middle child and coming from a broken home. In this broken home set up, we have already reached the pre empty nest stage wherein we, the kids, should be taking off, however, the broken home per se as one of the factors, our eldest brother has a combination of the failure to launch syndrome and the Prince of Wales syndrome. If my mother made a miscalculation by treating me like crap, she made a bigger miscalculation by treating our eldest first born as a buddha. Thus the buoyant, bouncy and corpulent shape with the matching sluggish and sloth like lifestyle married with the illusions of grandeur that everything is as feasible as a fairytale (especially if he cries and dramatizes)-- mama would simply melt and give him his candy. Awww (fuck it.)

It gets on our mom's nerves but hey, she spoiled him before and she never will stop spoiling him. I told her that, but noooo-- like the complex equation above just said: she treats me like crap.

And yes she does and it shows as a warrant of arrest with my name on it was presented by a policeman outside our house nearly two weeks ago. I'm not at fault, but let's just say since my signature is on a check for a business of ours and my mother, bright and devious as she is in balancing and upping the ante to her favor, with me expendable of course, deffered payment to a supplying company.

It's not her name. It's mine. So yeah, she'd probably do a gung ho accounting stunt since it wasn't her goose that was gonna get cooked. I had to run and hide at my dad's subdivision in Laguna where the long arm of the law won't be able to reach my poor waning CD4 cells, who were just dying to find out that I was being charged by the Republic of the Philippines.

Surprised, I was solid that day it happened. I just kept quiet and smug about everything. Hey, she treats me like shit anyway, so what's new? It's just a degree higher (or should I say lower?). Am I this numb already? My younger sister was definitely pissed, probably because she saw everything from neutral ground, seeing that I'm doing what I can too help out with the businessess, as our Happy Buddha of an older brother stays happy as the buddha he is, chomping on the pie in the sky that's his girlfriend, who, by the way, will probably never make it to my christmas Card list or anyone in our family's at all for quite sometime.

We can spot a user a mile away, Fatso! Use your head!

Well, after hiding, I posted bail with the help of my mum's attorney. Well at least she thought of HELPING the dirt beneath her feet.

Thank goodness I'm still alive, OK, and amazingly not questioning why these are happening. Honestly, I don't wanna mind them too much. It's not good for me. I'm focusing on my closer friends who I play sports with regularly.

Some of them know, some of them don't, but they're real people. They're not the Ladida Society that go out clubbing and acting so nuveau and pleasing people, who don't care about the new stuff that they bought, or the expensive adventures and latest drugs that they shoved up their noses. Nope, they ain't that. They're people I can talk to when I'm feeling odd and they really listen and help out. They won't stab you on the back because they're not the Gossip Girl type shit that everyone's trying to be nowadays.

All this angst and I'm still ok and smiling coz I know that with the company I'm keeping, the sun is shining on this side of Manila for me.

It helps me survive. It's just that as life will always continue to pour the sweetness and the bitterness and all other kinds of bruhaha, as I have passion for my friends, their problems also affect me and just today a bitter ordeal has struck one of my close friends.

A break up. A gay break up. Usually, for most, they're as common as the jeepneys that add a silvery shade of bull shit to our Metro traffic, gay relationships come and go fast, hard and you wouldn't even know it happened if you don't update regularly.

Here's the sad part: in our team, we all love both of them. Of course, both probably made a mistake, but one had to cheat, and it was the younger one (as usual). They're age gap's kinda big, so I wasn't surprised, it's a technical you-ought-to-know, but it's still different when it really happens to people close to you. This is the part I really don't like: I don't mind if I'm the one getting rained on, but if it's someone I care about, it really affects me (eg Michael Jackson, I cried for him already, he will always be the King of Pop and media treated him worse than how my mum treated me, so I'm really sorry for it, MJ. We love you).

I survived. I'm gonna get through this. We're in this together. It's not game over for me. It won't be game over for you. There's tomorrow. Life goes on. Love goes on. Everything changes and movesin fidgets or leaps and bounds. Everything.

This is supposed to really bother me, but it's not anymore. Maybe because the worst has happened. Or maybe I'm as numb as the corns on my feet. Hah!

Survival. It's a jungle everywhere nowadays.

*Snaps for Everyone*