Posted in December 2009 …

Dec 30 2009
2 Comments
A Helping of Cheese, Beyond Humanoids

Three Guys

While riding the tricycle this evening, holding a drum of cooked rice in my lap and praying that the rain wouldn’t pelt me any harder that it already had, I found myself linking some things in my head and coming across an epiphany: I’m one lucky sonafabitch. The year hasn’t ended yet, and my year-end entries are still being concocted inside my little brain, but I think I’ve found a suitable kick-off point, and more important, a suitable kick-off attitude.

...I think I've found a suitable kick-off point, and more important, a suitable kick-off attitude.

The attitude? Gratitude. The point? These three awesome guys.

The first guy’s one of the nicest people I know. He puts others before himself, almost all the time. He drives people to their homes just to make sure that they get there safe and sound; he lends his house again and again despite the many logistical nightmares this inevitable causes; and he’s probably the only guy I know who would buy plane tickets for his friends so that they’d all be able to meet together for a very important reunion. If there’s a picture demonstrating “selflessness” in the dictionary, this guy’s photo would be there, all glossed up and ready to go.

The second guy’s one of the most intelligent people I know. Trust me, it’s no easy feat being one of the top 20 highest scorers in the Ateneo entrance exam and one of the top 50 highest scorers in the UP entrance exam at the same time. And while he pursued the questionable path of entering UP (I kid, I kid), he rose above all others to graduate summa cum laude– one of only ten in his batch. Add to this a strong sense of self and an even stronger sense of fashion, it’s no wonder this wonder kid is going places. Literally.

The third guy’s one of the most loving people I know. He will adapt to your every quirk, he will adopt your every hobby. He will weave a world where the two of you are stars. When he gives, he gives; when he bares his soul, he bares it in its entirety. He leaves nothing to himself, sometimes to a fault. Between questions of mas mahal ko or mas mahal ako, he’ll always reply mas mahal ko. Not because he necessarily prefers it, but because it always happens to be true. While there’s almost always hurt, there’s almost always happiness. For a person who loves as much as he does? It has to go both ways.

These three guys, with that common thread running through them, have made 2009 an extremely good one for me to bear. Let me take this time to reiterate what I’ve said in the beginning: I’m one lucky sonofabitch. And I have you guys to thank.

There’s an advice in here somewhere, commonly given to some people after a bad break-up. My own counter-advice: don’t do it. Friendship is not a “lousy” alternative; it’s a pretty much good choice all on its own. I’m sure you smart people know what I’m talking about.

Dec 28 2009
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A Helping of Cheese

Seventeen Again?

When I was seventeen, something magical happened to me. I fell in love. And it wasn’t just any ordinary type of love—I fell in love with my One Great Love1.

It’s a cliché, but it must be said: it happened unexpectedly. I was in college back then, and all that I could think of was to shine academically, and perhaps expand my social circles with a few more friends or so. My love life, alien as the concept was, did not occur to me as a clear and present need. I was moving through life through ways that did not require companionship, and I was floating along at a pace that did not require someone to keep my speed in check.

...we don't really need heroes or saviors.

But then that One Great Love came along through a flurry of whispers and silences and glances and smiles. Needless to say, I got caught in the windstorm.

Lest you get any strange ideas, this entry does not serve to reminisce about that One Great Love. As Stephen King’s favourite gunslinger would put it, the world has moved on, and so have we. This entry just serves as a reminder that perhaps being actively on the lookout for the Next Great Love is an exercise in futility; that perhaps the best thing to do during these times of aloneness is to do what I have already excelled in doing before. Just float along.

Besides, my expectations have changed with the times. The fairy tale existence I once lived was brought about in part by the environment in which it was set, and in part by the state of mind I was in. I cannot pretend to be that innocent sophomore any longer. I have been tarnished with experiences of lust and pain and hurt and sorrow, and I can no longer go back to the way things were. I think I have already crossed that line a long time ago. But with any change in expectations, there’s always the realization that I have to deal with it in order to survive. Human beings are resilient that way, and I am no exception.

I may no longer meet my royalty in the same magical and majestic manner I have before, but being human should suffice. The world can be a grim and lonely place to be in; as we make our way through the darkness, we don’t really need heroes or saviors. We just want to stumble into someone who’s willing to take our hand and traverse the path together.

That’s all I’m looking for. That’s all I really need.

  1. Go over that last paragraph. Four instances of the word “love” in one sitting. Writers will probably pummel me with their literary gavels. ↩
Dec 27 2009
7 Comments
The Blog in Question

When Blogs Take Flight

When I was in high school, I juggled mathematics and writing effortlessly. I solved some algebra questions in the evenings and in between classes, while on weekends, I sat in front of my Windows 95-powered PC and created– feverishly, fervently– my next literary masterpiece. Those days, writing never felt like a chore. Sure, I discarded more stories than I could care to count, but my resolve never wavered. When one short story felt a bit too much for me to take, I took a break (or solved that trigonometric exercise that I’ve been itching to get my hands on). Then I moved on.

It seemed like I had to choose between two great loves when I stepped into college. The choice was an easy one eventually– my contract with my high school dictated that I choose BS Mathematics over BS English Literature. Good thing Ateneo loves its English as much as it loves its Mathematics; I never found myself wanting. While taking up a mathematics course forced me to accept the bitter fact that I’m not all that when it came to the realm of numbers, it also provided me with the realization that I could actually commit to this writing gig, after all. There was a wonderfully positive chance of me not sucking.

Welcome to The Sunbaked King 3.0.

And for the most part, I didn’t. Thanks to some very talented professors and the multitude of avenues in which I could write, I was able to hone my “craft.” The experience was mind-draining, but invigorating; challenging, but exhilarating; humbling, but ultimately fulfilling. Since that time, I have made people laugh. Since that time, I have made people cry. The power of words can truly be great when written down (or in this case, typed) with a focused mind and a sincere heart.

My high school and college years have already passed me by. I no longer solve algebra questions in the evenings and in between classes– I no longer have classes to speak of, and the only solving I do happens in Excel spreadsheets. I no longer sit in front of my Windows 95-powered PC to type my next literary masterpiece– I now own a Vista-powered laptop, and my short story and soap opera-writing days are already behind me. I no longer have professors to teach me the way. I no longer have the multitude of avenues I once had at my disposal. Slowly, my two great loves took a back seat to the necessities of corporate living. Surely, the need to solve and the need to write got replaced with the need to pay the rent and the need to watch my weight.

But beneath the noise and clamor of deadlines and duties, there’s a hunger that wants to be fed.

Blogging has provided sustenance during all these years when I no longer think of myself as a student. When all the lessons of the academe have apparently slipped away, all that’s left with me is my passion for writing and this nifty little site called WordPress. When I think long and hard about it, it seems like these are enough. When stripped down to its barest essentials, these are the only things I need for this blog to take flight.

Welcome to The Sunbaked King 3.0, people. May you find sunshine in every bite.