Kuya

There is this question that gets thrown around by the existentialists of the world regarding the person that you wish to meet in heaven once you had passed on to the after life. Not surprisingly, many would quickly answer their grandparents, their parents and loved ones who had died before them.

I sometimes have thoughts about this though I don’t really have anyone who had died before me who I wish to meet again in the afterlife. As I feel those who had left before me I would be glad to meet again anyway. But it won’t be out curiousity. They once had lived. I once had interacted with them. I am not eager at all.

My only answer to this heady kind of question would be someone who never really had a chance to become a person. When I was 13, my mother had a miscarriage. The kid would have been my parent’s third and I would have become officially a “kuya.” I am glad my mother survived the ordeal. Her life was more important than anything else, of course. But deep down, I wish I could have met the kid. I wish I could have actually become a kuya. And I wish he would have been a boy just like me.

I wonder how our relationship would have turned-out? I often find myself thinking about sibling relationships and I never could stop myself from being envious of people who have developed good relationships with their siblings. The only brother that I have I almost went as far as developing genuine hatred towards. And thus, my thoughts about my supposedly younger brother. My life would have been so different had the kid lived.

I honestly feel I would have been an awesome kuya. I feel he would have been drawn to me. I feel he would have idolized me. And If he were living today, he probably had chosen to be with me here in Canada. We probably would be having long, deep life talks over some cigarettes and beer. We probably would have the same complains about our parents and our older brother. And I am sure he would have been the awesomest brother, the one relative that I would have finally liked.

I look forward to meeting him one day. I’ll offer him my pack of Du Maurier and see how he reacts.

This Weekend

Friday after Work

I get a text message from someone inviting me for a sumptuous dinner of baked veal. In my mind I scream a screeching NO! I do not plan to see or talk to anyone this weekend. It was hell week at work the past days. As such, I feel no need to have any meaningful conversations nor shallow chit chats with any goddamn red blooded creature this weekend. I once again want to be nothing but alone. I need it, I think. So instinctively, I respond with a very polite “I’ll see if I can make it but I am currently preoccupied.” I will never make it. Instead, I spend the whole evening at the YMCA trying to make weight lifting happen and submerging myself in some good ‘ole chlorinated pool water, my favourite stress buster. I am glad I am back in trying to work-out. Most of all, I am glad to be back in the pool where I know I truly belong. Afterwards, I have hearty doses of Pall Mall, my new choice for cancer stick brand which makes me think how funny my lifestyle has become these days. I come to the pool to keep my lungs in check. Swimming is the best way to build superior lungs. Which afterwards, I balance off by slowly burning them. Lol.

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Happy Halloween

October 31, 2014

I stare across the lunch table and there, my colleague Sharisse is sitting with her face covered-up in paint to fashion herself as what look to me as Skeletor’s bride in red. I see she’s suffering through it. But she’s holding on. Apparently, she cannot ever wash it off as it would shoo away the spirit that is living in her for the day. I don’t really get it. It’s halloween today and some people in the office decided to dress-up in costumes out of their own whim. I forewent the tradition. I find it corny, really. But because I haven’t shaved in days, I am wearing a comfy H&M sweater, a semi-faded Levi’s, my almost worn-out Vans sneakers that I bought in Bangkok a few years ago, and I reek of cigarettes, I decided my official costume would be that of a “stay at home dad who has nothing else to do but smoke.” Everyone gets a hoot as I declare what I came to office as.

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