Hell Week

This entry's title is self explanatory, and as this week ends I breathe a sigh of relief as I think I have survived one of the many horrible week days that have passed me by since I ever really learned to hate 'bad karma'. This month marked my younger brother's wedding, and all his months of preparation weren't enough to shield him, and us, from the overwhelming stress and pressure of the day-before-the-actual-wedding. Nobody really talked about it while we were preparing, but everyone was aware of the stressful situation which was so thick you can cut it with a knife. But everyone's prayers were answered because the event went without a hitch, and we all went home with smiles and tears of joy. But the festivities weren't over really, because here in the Philippines the festivities don't end with the culmination of a certain event. It usually ends when the money is obviously drained, and as the wedding after-party begun i felt that the last reserves of energy within me were all but extinguished( did i mention I was working on a freelance job while we were preparing? no i didn't). All the days spent helping my bro with his plans as well as working my ass off to reach my work's deadline have taken there toll, and as I drank the first glass of beer that night in honor of the occassion, I felt sick. So I excused myself and went to bed early, and when morning came I found myself unable to get up because I was now very sick. But I had to force myself to go to work because of a strict project deadline, and after working for several hours at the office I headed straight home and into bed. the whole weekend found me lying in bed like a plaque victim, with a high fever and my head feeling like I fought Manny Pacquiao for 12 rounds. I had to sit out all of the post wedding gatherings and resigned myself to the fact that I really, really needed to rest. Then came monday, and by God's mercy I thought I was well enough to work, so off to work I went. Unfortunately my 73 year old mom caught whatever virus that I suffered from and bam! One minute she was her old energetic self, the next she was sick as a zombie straight from the movie screen. We all had to spare some time to take care of her, and I had to do my part even though I also had a critical deadline for submission at work. To make this long story short, It was a really f%&ked up week, and thankfully it won't happen again soon because another round of bad juju would see me lose my job...or even lose my head. God forbid.

Home: Where the Heart is

Anyone who's ever been burned out by too much work, too much thinking about life and whatever the f*&k the future might bring will find it a tremendous relief to be back in their old hometown: be it to unwind, or even to find themselves again. It's a secret gift that life offers to all those weary souls whose lives have been battered by the unseen dark forces of the universe...the same forces that rust metal , rot apples,and crumble mountains. I just came back from a rather short but powerfully healing vacation to my hometown of Bacolod with the best crew I can ever travel with: my siblings, as well as a few acquaintances and close relatives who managed to tag along. It was an hour-long flight to Silay airport and another 2-hours roadtrip to where everything started: Brgy. Sicaba Cadiz City; a small, rustic old town filled with nipa huts and wooden houses and the smell of home-cooked meals over a wood fire. Amazingly, all the rains and bad weather of the past few days were nowhere in sight ( as my good friend Mike used to say, ' the weather is riding with the occasion', which is good omen). We arrived at our destination with our relatives on the doorstep of my grandparent's old house, ready to welcome their weary nephews and nieces who have come to be revitalized by the power that only the love of a close-knit family can give. Suffice it to say, the rest is history; though there were some moments of awkwardness brought about by a few bad apples (hey, they're freakin' everywhere, family or not), the fun and warmth pervaded the atmosphere up until it was time to go. And so we went home, tired and aching (and a bit hung over), but with a big smile in our hearts, a smile that hopefully will last until the next trip home. Now I sit on my work station, and I feel like shit. I just realized I'm beginning to f*%king hate Manila. Home is definitely where my heart is...I have left it there on purpose.

The Crossroads

Every now and then we come across a life-changing moment in our lives when we are put in front of a raging tidal wave of factors that threaten to tear our very souls apart - unless we succumb to the trial of making trivial decisions that will either save us or condemn us to a prison without walls, but either way will change our lives forever. I personally have encountered countless times when I had to choose between two or more things just to keep my life on track; most of the time I chose rightly. We all have different ways of seeing such events; I like to look at mine as standing in front of the 'cross roads', where all souls must return from time to time to change their lives, for good or bad. In the past I have always looked upon this magical and unseen event with awe, like I was literally standing at the crossroads of life, the skies sunless and eerily gray, and the land barren except for the two long stretches of road that meet each other in the middle of nowhere. It is ever-present in my mind wherever I go, and I know that it is what led me to where I am right now. But lately I feel that the crossroads have been working against me , because these past several years have been filled with ill-fated choices that have led me from one dead-end road to the other. Right now I am lost, and I feel that I am nearing that mystical forked road again. Will I be choosing right this time? I can only hope so, because all my wrong choices are slowly melting my life away, and another wrong road will surely lead to darkness once again. Sometimes I wish God will finally pass by on his holy white limo, because I'm sure tired of walking.