Thursday, January 29, 2009


I had been in and out of relationships.

I actually stopped counting when I realized that I only have ten fingers in both of my hands. Although, I initially tried counting the strands of my hair, but just like what you can imagine, it was tedious, so I stopped.

Relationships, for me, are the very essence of man’s existence. They shape us into the very person we are right now. Though, some people value relationship at different degrees, I am almost certain, that one can never survive the cruelty or the challenges (depending on your point of view) of life without going through a relationship.

A friend told me after our drinking session that dating is just like “keeping his options open”. With too much alcohol streaming all over my body, I passively agreed not really knowing what he actually meant.

When I woke up the next day, when all of the alcohol had been flushed into the toilet bowl, I remembered what he told me. Relationships as options.

“Options for what?” I asked.

Then after discussing the matter with myself, I suddenly felt bad.

Were I just an option to the people I had intimate relationships with? Was this the very same reason why I always end up by myself, alone, after days and months of passionately dating?

Despite the playful image my friends would normally attach to my persona, I would consider myself a serious lover. I give my all until it terribly hurts which probably explain why I always feel exhausted, if not totally consumed, right after an ugly break-up. Relationship for me is the bread and butter of life. Without it, life would be nothing but a lonely journey.

Oftentimes, right after a break-up or a separation, I usually would point accusing fingers on me. Partly hating myself for blowing up a potential life-long commitment.

Never did I imagine that I could have been right, instead of me being always wrong.

What if the other sees the relationship just like another simple option, while I see it as a loving intimate commitment? Would I still be taking the blame… or at least hating myself for not loving more?

Options may come in different forms. Others may see relationships as a life-long ticket for bottomless beer and endless parties. For some, it is a great, free and no-string-attached sex. But no matter how we see relationship, it is everything but option.

Options are the menus we take every time we dine in a fancy restaurant… a multiple choice questions we take in a quarterly exam… but not in relationships.

We date and we fall in love primarily because we feel the need of it… of having someone to stand next to us whenever life gets tough. We do not go out there, look for someone and then hope that probably s/he is one of the many options life can offer.
Relationships, just like people, are never a touch-and-go or hit-and-run situation. In life, you either touch or go, hit or run.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Birthday Party

“No birthday song please!”

This was more of a plea rather than a command to my friends who had painstakingly waited to start the birthday celebration that they organized for me.

This is one thing that I really hate about birthdays. People are always so ecstatic about the whole celebration that they try to make it more euphoric by singing an overly happy song.

Don’t get me wrong, I am one of those people who think that birthdays – just like any other anniversaries should be happily celebrated. I firmly believe that birthdays call for a celebration of life and the maturity that comes with it. It is just too bad that most of us feel that birthdays are those very rare occasions wherein cakes and birthday songs are mandatory. Probably no one ever notices that it has become customary for us to start a birthday celebration by blowing the lighted candles on the cake at the end of the birthday song.

Celebrating my birthday this year has become strenuous. Blame it to my company who employs “email blasts” by sending birthday reminders to every employee. Now I get caught in a situation wherein I have to answer every co-worker about my birthday plans plus some very personal stuff that come with it. Instead of celebrating my birthday intimately with friends and family, it has now become an unofficial fiesta for some.

But as stubborn as I am, I answered each and every queries they have indifferently. “No plan at all.” And just like that, I practically saw in their faces how the world crumbled into pieces with that very simple answer.

Despite my willful objection of not celebrating my birthday, my friends had eventually found a way to trick me in agreeing in having a small party or celebration to commemorate my birthday. Without me consciously being aware of it, plans have been set and the birthday party was on its way.

Left with no choice, I spent agonizing hours planning how I go through with it. What food to cook, who to invite, what time to start? To avoid any unpleasant surprises, I prepared a personal birthday party checklist to make sure all things are covered. The food has already been set and the drinks have been ordered. I just prayed that nobody brings a cake so that I can be spared from the usual singing of the birthday song and the blowing of the birthday candles.

7 pm. Simple Dinner. That was the invitation I sent them. One by one, my friends have started to arrive. Everything was going really fine until a friend showed up with a screaming box of cake. Although it has been traditional for my friends to really bring a birthday cake during a friend’s birthday party, I was really banking on the current economic crisis that I was hoping that none of them would show up with that expensive piece of bread.

Before I knew it, I was forced to sit in front of the lighted cake and silently make a wish. Not wanting to break my friends’ hearts, I willingly obliged.

A few minutes later, my agony has come to an end. With no birthday song ever sang, it was a great relief.

But more than the fact that my friends granted my no-birthday-song policy on my birthday and that I survived the never-ending questions from my officemates, I was very happy. This is probably the happiest, if not the greatest birthday party one could ever have.

It is really more than the food or the gifts given on the occasion. My friends who delightfully shared their time and resources on my very personal celebration are all enough for my birthday to be one-hell of a party.

With them, I was able to realize essential things that go beyond the sweetness of the birthday cakes… things that last longer than the echoes of the birthday songs. To simple have them as my friends makes my birthday a meaningful celebration of my life.

Three days after my birthday, I still have a slice of my birthday cake sitting inside my fridge. It would probably stay there for a while until somebody decides to indulge in the pleasure of the sweetness of its chocolate icing…
without any birthday song to sing or a birthday candle to blow.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Parking Entrance

I have to warn everyone that writing has never been my forte.

In fact, I hate writing. The agony of waiting for a great inspiration to start scribbling and then painstakingly checking every word for grammar and spelling errors is just unbearable for me. This is probably the reason why I developed this affection with numbers that eventually persuaded me to take up engineering and accountancy in college. Sure, these courses are not made in heaven, but I just could not imagine spending my entire five years in college doing endless thesis and reaction paper… life would definitely be a TORTURE.

I must admit, I just envy those people who have this “natural” talent of playing with words and creating masterpieces out of pen and sheets of paper. But words are harder to manipulate unlike numbers. Words need mastery while numbers require skills. I would rather memorize formulas than heartbreakingly construct sentences.

I remember during my high school days, whenever a friend or classmate would brag his yet-another literary piece; I just kept on thinking how they failed to execute the perfect cartwheel my PE teacher asked me to demonstrate in front of my class or how they nose bleed to death during Math exams … and then I feel good again.

My writing sucks. Although I also had my short stints as editor of a literary magazine in high school and a newsletter in college, I never had the satisfaction of being commended by someone for my writing. It is not actually that I am dying to be recognized as a writer, but at some point, one just wonders how it feels to be applauded for something that he has written.

Yesterday, I finally revealed to my friends that I officially have a blog account. It was more of a horrific experience, knowing that I will be put into scrutiny like what defense lawyers do to primary witnesses. I am just as scared as hell to know that finally they would have a good chance of mocking me through my lousy grammar and erroneous tenses. Though, it is always a relief to have a Microsoft word edits my spelling, I still can’t help but think paranoid and realize how unreliable technology is.

At some point, I have this feeling that posting a BLOG is not really a good idea. But realizing all the efforts I have made… (creating the blog account in an IPOD touch, choosing a username, brainstorming for the first entry)… writing may not be that bad at all. Maybe, this will be a good time for me to start something new… or perhaps to polish some talent I never imagined I had. Bahala na.

Before you start posting comments (just an assumption), let me just say… I DID WARN YOU.

So drive, parking is available.