33

I turned 33 today. and like birthdays past, I spent a few minutes thinking of my mother. at how things were with her life when she was my age. it always amazes me how simlilar and different we are. at 33, she has three kids aged 16, 15, and 11. She was a single mom earning a living for 3 kids.

as for me, i am thousands of miles away from my mom and brothers. this is my 8th birthday away from them, and although it gets easy, there is till a part of me that wishes i can spend my day with them.

enough of the drama, for this is a day of thanksgiving to God. I am so blessed to be here, year 33, alive, fighting the fight and living with more love for everyone. this birthday is more special because I am in the middle (or 3/4, rather) of my master's degree program, I am engaged to my mahal, and most of all, I am saved.


I went out to lunch with my tutees today. They are an important part of my life. They teach me as much as I teach them. Indeed, the Lord has blessed me with them, because I get to experience the joy of being like a parent to them. I am so proud of them.

Dad

music : landslide by fleetwod mac

My dad celebrated his 53rd birthday three days ago. A pity that I can’t call him because I don’t even know where he is. The last time I spoke to him wasn’t a happy occasion, but then again I’ve never been cheerbear.


I don’t even have a picture of him to post in this blog. Pathetic, no? I have nothing. I have nothing tangible that he gave me. The heart necklace was snatched from me. The gold bracelet, I’ ve long ago pawned. The notebook he gave me, I broke. The collection of E.A. Poe stories he gave me is somewhere in the UPRHS library, part of my collection that I donated when I moved here. I even lost that one silver Parker ballpoint pen engraved with my name and christian name, I lost it then and it didn’t matter much, I hated my christian name. It sounded so wimpy to my already weird name.


But the intangible lot that my father gave me, it’s all here.

I have his eyes - the same medium brown color. I have his brows - the same angular pair that arch at any given stimulus - pleasant or otherwise.

I have his hair - the same fine dark brown mop of hair that has a mind of its own. It’s straight one day and curly the next.

I have his teeth- straight and strong. So strong they broke my dentist’s tool the last time I had one of my wisdom teeth pulled out. Thanks dad, Ninang said I still have one tooth in there somewhere. And so my visits to the Philippines always include a visit to her clinic, not just for cleaning, but also for some procedure.

I have his walk- the same bowlegged swagger that earned me a reputation in school as a tomboy.It wasn’t on purpose, it’s natural ,like my two feet are angry at each other. This is why it is very uncomfortable for me to wear heels. I am sakang. That’s that.

I have his temper - the same short fuse that just about explodes when I am trapped in the company of ignorant people. The same temper that gets to me when I drive with a bunch of idiots.


And like him, I mostly wear my heart on my sleeve, and this is what bites me back in the ass.


People always say that I am very much my mother’s daughter. Yes, I look very much like her, I sound very much like her, but the things above, she would even tell you, I got from my dad.


Father-daugher relationships are indeed very fragile. Mine is no different. Because I am so much like my mom, my dad and I always butt heads. Thinking about it now, I think it is also because I am in part like him that makes it even explosive when he and I spend time together.


When I was younger, my dad was most preoccupied in making a girl of me. He gave me a pair of Barbie dolls so I can have “normal” girl toys. I was more interested in playing with my brother’s remote control cars and Lego sets. He often lamented that his firstborn is a boy. He tried desperately to make me more feminine. I remember one trip we had to the mall, he outfitted me in pink. I looked like a freaking cotton candy stick. I like pink now. I dyed my hair pink once. I wear pink too, but mostly I wear it with black. ( I have pink shoes, dad. You’re gonna hate it. And I like it like that.)

He wanted me to take up sports in high school, something graceful like swimming, or tennis, or volleyball. Well I took up sports alright. I took Tae Kwon Do, Soccer and Basketball.

He wanted me to have in interest in music. Something soulful like jazz. He’s such a jazz enthusiast. I like music, something soulful too. It’s called rock. He wanted me to learn how to play an instrument so I can be “cultured.” Something divine like piano or the violin even. I played an instrument – my voice, and with it I became part of an alt/ rock band in college, and boy there’s a lot of culture involved in that too. I play the guitar now. It’s not jazz that I play, but I sure can make him cry. ( Maybe one day I’ll play him a Fleetwood Mac song.)

He wanted me to become a doctor. I wanted to become a lawyer so I can sue his ass. He shut me down and told me I can’t be a lawyer because I have too big a heart. Well, I didn’t become a doctor. I didn’t become a lawyer. I am teacher, and that must’ve hurt him too, because my mom’s one kick ass teacher.


Funny how I only spent seven years with him, yet I picked up a couple of things that I still believe in these days.

That a shower before bedtime is imperative. He always told me and made me shower before I got to bed, no matter how tired I am. He told me I have to smell clean and be clean before I sleep so in my dreams I smell clean and fresh too. He said if I go to bed stinky, my dreams would probably stink too. So yes, I take a shower before I go to bed. Even in the winter. Even when my teeth are chattering from the cold, I take a shower before bedtime. I take another shower when I wake up. Don’t ask me why. I just do. In the warm months, I take more then two showers. And always, I make sure I smell good. I do. Ask any of my friends. I do smell good. My dad ingrained that in my being.

I do not walk when I smoke. My dad said that girls who walk while they smoke look like streetwalkers. These days I wish I just learned not to smoke. I walk more, so that’s a good thing. But in college, I never walked and smoked at the same time. Ask me where the logic is. There is none.



My dad can figure me out like an open book. And I hate it when he’s right. He is the only person who can tell when I am upset. He knows because my lips are upturned unnaturally.


Despite our differences, my dad cares a lot about me. This is sore topic for my mom because my dad does not treat my brothers equally. If anything happens to me, my dad will find a way to get to me. A terrible thing happened 7 years ago when I came face to face with a gun. It was a nightmare. The night after the incident, my dad showed up at my grandparent’s house all panicked at what happened to me. I was more or less composed at that time. He wasn’t. He was so upset, he told me he’s going to get a gun for me so I can protect myself. He said he will hunt down the bastard who pointed a gun at me. As usual, I sighed a deep sigh and told him how stupid he sounded. Why the fuck would I want to carry a gun when a gun was just pointed at me? Logic please. I told him I know he’s trying to be sweet, but he’s more retarded than sweet. I walked out on him and let him deal with my mom.


When X messed up and I was left to deal with his shit, I wanted to talk to my dad and just cry. It’s really ironic considering he should be the last person I should talk to, but that little girl in me just wanted to tell her dad that she’s been hurt. My dad called me up so I can call him back. I don’t know who was sadder, him or me. He told me that even though I “hated” him most of my life, when I get hurt, he will always get more hurt. If I get hurt, he will always cry for me. And you know what, it felt good telling him what happened. At that moment, I wasn’t 31 years old, I felt like I was 5 with a big ass scrape on my knee crying my eyes out, and there was his 27 year old self, blowing the pain away.


That was several months ago. I am still here, still standing. Standing strong and hopeful that everything will work out just fine. I hope and pray that as my dad starts another year, he can find his way back to peace and yes, maybe finally happiness. I told him happiness is overrated.
But, we all deserve a little bit of happiness.


Happy Birthday, Dad.


From your feisty firstborn,

Joffin-Mari (Therese)

my favorite tita

dear tita norma,

i just back home an hour and a half ago. i wolfed down your yummy ham and brie cheese sandwich. my you made a mighty hefty pabaon for me! the works! i even have a slice of pound cake in there. tsk tsk tsk. you spoil me too much.

i thoroughly enjoyed spending the weekend with you, lubs, ron and petulia. it was just like old times. only now we are not back in sierra madre in umali subdivision. we hung out in ron and lubs' house in nutcracker lane.

you know tita, spending time with you has really lit my heart. funny how things just fall into place. i have not seen you in two years, and two years seemed like such a long time. yet, you are still the same caring, lighthearted and generous aunt/mom that i've known. thank you for thinking of me with regards to a possible employment opportunity. thank you for bringing me to the sunday service in your church. thank you for sharing your wonderful family with me. you must be very proud of lubs. she has turned out to be such an amazing woman, with a heart as big as yours. i am very proud of her too, and i am not lucky, i am blessed with friends like her.


you shocked me three times with three words that escaped your mouth. ah, well, times change after all.

thanks so much for the pretty pearl jewelry that you gave me. i felt like it's early christmas with all your gifts. someday, soon i hope to visit you in los banos, maybe you, me and my mom can have a night out in town and we can laugh all we want.

i will call up my mom so you two can get together when you get back home. when you see her, please hug her tightly for me, and tell her i am going to be fine.

i am proud to say lubs and i take after our mothers. with all your love and support, we're both going to be more than just fine, we're fabulous!


your loving pseudo daughter,


jop

para sa nanay ko

mahal kong mommy,

alam kong kakausap lang natin kaninang umaga. pero ang mga huli mong salita ay lubos na nakaapekto sa akin. ilang beses mo na itong sinasabi, at tuwing sasabihin mo ito, hindi ko mapigilan ang umiyak.

nakatatawang isipin na kung kailan ako nagka-edad ay saka ka nag-aalala sa kapakanan ko. alam kong mahal na mahal mo ako, at bilang ina siempre hindi mo mapigilan ang mag-alala sa akin -- lalo na ngayong nag-iisa na ako.

marami na akong pabor na hiningi sa yo, at alam kong mahirap na naman itong hiling ko sa yo. pero sana maintindihan mo ako.

kailangan kong maging matatag ka para sa akin. kapag ikaw na ang nag-aalala sa akin, natatakot na tuloy ako. ikaw ang pinanggagalingan ko ng lakas, at kapag ikaw ay may pangamba, hindi ko mapigilang manghina rin at matakot.

nalulungkot ako dahil nag-aalala ka ngayong mag-isa na ako. pero mommy, kahit naman noong hindi ako mag-isa, ako naman ang nag-aalaga sa sarili ko. hindi ko kailangan ng kasama sa bahay para mapanatag ang loob ko. sanay na ako. oo, nakakalungkot talaga, pero ayaw ko nang isipin ito.

Sana mapanatag ang loob mo na pinagpala ako ng Diyos sa aking mga kaibigan dito. Hindi nila ako pinapabayaan. Mapa-trabaho man o mapa-personal na kaibigan, lahat sila'y taos-puso ang pag-aalaga sa akin. Andiyan si Karen na parang nanay ko na. Si Charly, Matt at Jonah na parang kapatid, bayaw at pamangkin ko. Inampon na rin ako ng pamilya ni Charly, at inimbita pa nila akong doon magdaos ng Thanksgiving. Mom, si Richard na nasa Texas ay para kong kapatid na halos araw-araw ay kinakausap ako para mangumusta. Makinig sa aking halakhak at umiyak kapag ako'y nalulungkot. Si Christina na para kong Ate na palaging andiyan, nakaalalay. Si Suzanne na para kong bunsong kapatid. Si Lulubelle, Ron, Nikki at Vince, 4 na oras man ang layo sa akin pero para ko nang pamilya. Si Candy na kahit 3 oras late ay nakikipag-usap sa akin. Si Jay at Jet na kabarkada ko sa Cali, lahat sila, mom. Pati sila Jennifer, Peter, Richard at Olivia ay handang tumulong sa akin, anumang oras na kailanganin ko. Lahat sila, Mom, lahat sila nag-alala sa akin.

Para sa yo Mom, aalagaan ko ang sarili ko. Tingnan mo, pumayat na nga ako. at para sa akin, at para sa yo, titigil na talaga akong manigarilyo. Pangako ko sa yo. Iinom na ako ng vitamins araw-araw. At palagi naman akong nagdadasal.

Eto, sing pula na naman ako ng kamatis sa kakaiyak. Alam kong iyakin ako, isang katangiang hindi ko namana sa yo. Sisihin mo na lang ang tatay ko, na siguro ay masyadong emosyonal.

Hindi ko alam kung kelan uli tayo magkikita. Sa ngayon, pagtiyagaan na lang natin ang boses ng isa't-isa. Miss na kita mom, at wala akong ibang gustong magpahid ng luha at uhog ko, kundi ikaw.



Nagmamahal,

ang iyong panganay

numb

i called back my mom late last night. she took my brother to pgh after yet again another episode. after a series of tests he was diagnosed with bilor disorder and depression. he will need medication for him to function.

for the second time in my life i heard my mother cry. she is so tired. so tired. so tired. i could not bear to hear my mother like that. i felt so powerless to help her.
this is too much for her.

i called you after this, because at that moment i lost it.

i shouldn't have called you.

i forgot i am alone now.