The Wanderer's Dream World

Web traveller. occassional writer. lurker.

A letter to the verbally inexpressive people

To all verbally inexpressive people – I write to tell you that we hold no control of time.

I have always considered myself normal. More or less, I act the same way as the other kids I know. But as time passed by, I realized how senseless I really was. There was no room for expression allocated.

Since I was still a kid until a week after I graduated from high school, I was always the verbally inexpressive one. I cannot recall even a single instance in which I have said those three words, eight letters that people love to hear, the “I love you”, to any of the member of the family. Whenever my friends also tell me they love me and that they care for me, I didn’t know what to do so most of the time, I just give them an awkward smile.

I knew in my heart that I love them and I thought that even if I do not say those words, they know that they play a big part in my life. Maybe the reason for not being expressive is that I’m always taken aback by the thought that if I tell them what I feel, they would think I was just being “OA (over-reacting)” – what a lame excuse, I know.

We all have many things in life. They say that some of us do not really appreciate what we have until we lose them. Sadly, it took the death of my elder brother to open my eyes.

I can still remember what exactly happened 2 years and 4 months ago like it was just yesterday. I can hear my mother’s and sister’s cries in my head loud and clear. A single phone call turned into the biggest downfall of my family.

I have always been a fan of my elder brother. Next to my father, he was the man I looked up to and really respected in the family. I don’t know why but I guess it was because of the fact that he was really a responsible man and that he exceled in everything he did.

From the time he entered a well-known military school in the country until he served the nation, I have heard a lot of good comments about him – from prominent people down to normal ones. He was really the man that everyone loved to be with.

On a perspective of someone who grew up with him, I could certify what people say about him. Though there were times that he would automatically go to his room every after meal just not to wash the dishes, he was really a good man by nature. I just didn’t realize it though until it was too late.

April 3, 2012 – the date no one in the family would ever forget. It was supposed to be just another normal day. Everything felt like it was in its place until the news broke.

My mind instantly went blank. The next thing I knew, my phone and Facebook page were already filled with condolences. I realized how easy it is to say “Condolence” to other people yet when you’re the one being given that kind of message, you just do not know if you should be happy or what.

Every day and night at his funeral felt like a feast – there were a lot of people who came to our house that we even had to utilize one side of a block for tents outside. Though I could see his body inside the coffin, I still couldn’t believe he was gone.

Remembering everything was so devastating. Just a week before he passed away, he was still at our house celebrating birthday with his twin brother, and my high school graduation. He may not always be at our side all the time, his presence was always felt since he always sends us messages through SMS. But in just a snap, he was gone. He came back home enclosed in a coffin.

Empty – that is how I would describe what I was feeling. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I wanted to cry so hard and scream but I just can’t – I needed to act 10 years older than my actual age and be strong for my family. I wanted to flip the tables and smash everything I see.

The thing that has been tearing me apart until now is the fact that I never got to tell him how much he meant to me. It has been bugging me since that day.

There are times in which I miss him that I just want to pick him up from my dream and hug him tight for real. If tears could really build a stairway and memories a lane, I would walk right straight up to heaven and bring him back again. There were just a lot of things I wish I have said to him.

I have learned a valuable lesson the hard way. Call it cliché but life is really short. No one knows when our Creator will get back the life He let us borrowed.

Few years had already passed but every time I remember him, tears just roll down my face. I regretted all those chances I didn’t grab. Some would argue that actions speak louder than words but sometimes, doing only one of them isn’t enough; you have to do both.

If you truly love someone, never wait until it’s too late to tell him/her how much he/she means to you. Say the things you want to say while they can still hear you and feel the love you have for them. Tomorrow is never guaranteed. Once you lose them, you can never get them back.

Happy Hour

PEOPLE wrapping up their work, students waiting for a ride outside school, jeepney barkers calling for passengers– these are the usual scenes I see outside our school after one of my night classes. For most, you can see from their faces that they had a long and tiring day.

City life is different from the province life I grew up to. People back home live a simple life; you could survive a day without a single penny in your pocket. Here in the city, however, everything is different – people live in modernity. People from all over the country come here to experience a different kind of lifestyle, but does modernity offer convenience to everyone?

One night as I was walking along the streets of Claveria, I saw people setting up their stations along the area, and women outside of clubs, bars, and videoke places wearing heavy make-up and revealing outfits. While the rest of the city has ended their business for the day, here it seems like their day has just started.

After two years staying in the city, it wasn’t the first time I encountered them. I admit the first few times were disturbing but as time passed by, it eventually became normal to me.

The current economic status of our country, the high unemployment rate, and the limited opportunities offered are few of the reasons I could think of why those people chose the life they have now. In this world where a lot of standards have been set, one may really have a hard time coping up with the rest. There is a wide gap between people who can and cannot afford modern conveniences.

Sacrifice – it’s just a word which may mean nothing for most of us, but that is how those people would describe their every night life. Before they entered that world, they already swallowed their pride. Whore, call girl, hooker, hustler? Call them whatever you want; those words no longer mean anything to them.

Like any other normal person, they, too, deserve respect. We only see their physical features; we do not know their stories. Their work does not make them less of a human being. They do not steal, kill or harm others just to survive.

City life may be filled with glitz and glamour but sometimes, we tend to keep our eyes focused on the bigger picture that we forget of the little details which also make up the picture.

For people who barely have anything this world could offer, other’s “happy hour” only means food for their families.

Sun.Star Davao | June 28, 2014 | Sunday Essays

Nightlife in Metro

Lavish food and drinks, loud music, and jam-packed venue – the usual things that automatically pop into our minds whenever we hear “night life”. I know these not because I normally enjoy the aforementioned things but because I personally know people whose ideas of it are narrowed into those. Regardless of social status, and backgrounds, people come together for a night of pure entertainment.

Life in metro only means life in modernity. People from different parts of the country flock there to experience a rich kind of lifestyle. With the modernity it possesses and offers, one may surely be tempted to cope up with other people in the city – be updated with everything; watch the latest movies, play the hit games, own a latest gadget, and be updated with the latest fashion trend.

One night as I was on my way home from school riding a three-wheeled kind of transportation locally known as ‘sikad’, I noticed an old woman in her ragged look carrying piles of folded carton on her head while walking on the street of Jacinto. She was scanning the area and checking garbage bins for maybe things which she could make use of.

When I got into our apartment, I can’t help but ask myself numerous questions like, “Why is she on the street during night time? Doesn’t she have a family to take care of her? Isn’t she already a too old to work?”. Whatever the answers, the only thing I am certain of is she shouldn’t be there where and when I’ve seen her.

After a week, I’ve seen her again on the street. It was a Saturday night when I was rushing to school for a practice for our play, a requirement for a subject for finals, and yes.. like the last time, she was again carrying piles of carton on her head. She was on the side of the street waiting for a jeepney, probably en route to her home. As soon as she got into the vehicle, the questions popped into my mind again.

Weeks had already passed and I have never gotten a chance to see the old woman again on the street. For whatever reasons may be, I pray that she is in good health and is just at her home being cared of by her family. Truly, unexpected times give you unexpected lessons about life.

Metro life could really be filled with glitz and glamour but sometimes, we tend to keep our eyes peeled on the bigger picture that we forget of the tiny details which also make up the picture. On the perspective of someone who barely has anything this world could offer, nightlife in metro is nothing but any other normal night of survival.

My first article submission to Sun.Star Davao which earned a place on their issue last Sunday, May 11, Y-SPEAK section.

My take on the looting in typhoon-hit Tacloban

Truly, desperate time calls for desperate measure. Situation like this brings out both the best and the worst in people. What they did was basically wrong, that’s for sure. We may always opt to not use calamity as an excuse to do such act. But then, unless we have tried to be in their situation, we can’t judge them just because of what they did. Obviously, there was nothing left for them — no food, no water, no shelter.

I just hope the government hastens its clearing operations so that aids could come in. Saying that you won’t donate just because of this will not help. After all, they’re still victims — they still need every help they could possibly get.

For now, let’s just continue praying for all those who were affected by the Typhoon Yolanda. We’ll get through this — Filipinos are resilient. No strong typhoon can ever beat the Filipino spirit. Bangon Pinoy, bangon Pilipinas!

Visit the HumLet booth on June 29-30, 2pm to 7pm at Giardino Gelato Abreeza and SM Lanang for more fun and freebies :)

Visit the HumLet booth on June 29-30, 2pm to 7pm at Giardino Gelato Abreeza and SM Lanang for more fun and freebies :)

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