i haven't seen my grandma for the longest time... so it was pretty weird going home to Navotas for the first time in literally years. in a way, it's tiring, but the trip alone keeps you grounded. cabs don't usually go that far, and they charge you way too much since the streets are narrow and traffic is more than just a bitch, so you gotta endure the traffic just like everyone else. everywhere you go, there are kids playing in the streets, the local drunks are getting it on as early as noon and everybody around you gives you weird stares, knowing that you're not a resident there. i do have a lot of memories of the small town though... when i was a kid, we'd spend summer vacation there, (since okinawa is pretty close to the philippines, a two-hour plane ride...), and i was sort of the favorite since, i guess, all my relatives thought it was the cutest thing to be visited by some dumb kid who looked a hundred percent filipino, but couldn't speak filipino. though i pretty much didn't know what the fuck i was doing most of the time, i knew one thing: that i'd get all sorts of free shit like toys and candy and clothes, then i was spoiled silly. everything went my way. i was their master. all i had to do was try and pronounce one tagalog word, goof it up, then vpila! pat on the back, smiles, laughter, then candy for me.during college, when i was busy being the rebellious and youngest kid in the family, i moved into my grandma's house. again, i got away with murder. though it did teach me a lot of things, and conversations with my grandma were pretty much okay, things were way different. everybody was kind, and they still looked out for me and all that, but a lot had changed. no more free stuff. the laughter died down. my charm was worth squat. and i still struggling to get out and do things on my own, even though the resources were plenty.
i think now, i realize, that the thing that might be so weird about going home- be it to my grandma's place or at my folks' place in bulacan, is guilt. i mean, i wasn't THAT terrible back then, but somehow, i think i'll always have a lot more to prove to all these people who were cool to me. my parents, my aunts, uncles, grandma...(i'm talking about my mother's side-relatives, by the way... i don't really give two shits about relatives from my dad's side... long story...none of your business.) but when i think about it now, during nights when i'm out smoking on my current pad's second floor veranda, and thinking how stupid it must seem for a guy to live alone in a rented three-storey town house, i sort of ask myself why the hell anyone would run away from such a warm environment like my grandma's place.
it sometimes makes me sad, but my moving out of both places was really important for me to find out who i was then... and who i am now.
anyway, last weekend, i got to my grandma's house around 3pm. surprisingly, my mom was there. and even more shocking was, i unconsciously brought a little something with me... a box of krispy kreme doughnuts. twas something i bought, but not for me... for people who mattered. and it sort of felt good. i guess i haven't done that in a while. we enjoyed the sweet treats, we talked about, of course both my mom and grandma took turns breaking my balls about smoking and drinking and staying up too late, but then my sister called. another surprise. it was a bit like christmas... all of us hanging out. no heavy feelings toward each other. no problems on our minds. just occupying space and time together. like a real family.
there's something about that short but perfect afternoon... i don't want to like it too much, because in a way, with it comes recollections of the bad stuff that happened in the past. and in a way, it sort of reminds me that one day, we all might not be able to enjoy another perfect afternoon like that.
shit like that scares me.
when me and my mom went home to bulacan in the late afternoon, i decided to hang out in our backyard. it was the same backyard where as a kid, i'd go fishing and catch an average of 8 tilapias a day, only to throw 'em back in the water. twas just me and our 12 cats, who were all awake now, but too lazy to get up. they just stared at me, watched as i took out a cig and smoked away, looking into the horizon which made the waters in the lake out back gleam like gold. there was a nice early evening breeze, and the air smelled perfect, save for the smoke. and i wondered how i ever wished living so far away from all that.
then i remembered that sometimes, the only way to learn, was to do something (or things...) incredibly stupid.
i'm pretty much free to go home anytime i want to and enjoy all that, but i think it's too late to really go back... i've gotten to an age where it's important to move forward. either that, or disappear into the nothingness of forgetting.
+++
but there was one thing that peppered-up that day, and proved to be a most entertaining escape from the drama of going home. while riding the jeep home to bulacan with my mom, a woman who looked familiar got on. it was one of the teachers from my high school. she was never MY teacher, but she pretty much knew who i was and vice versa.
surprisingly, we had the most retarded conversation... that everyone on board (including the driver) could hear. what was more retarded were the comebacks in my mind. have a look for yourself:
teacher: oh my... you're joey dizon, right? you're really fat now, aren't you?!! i mean, you're okay with that?
what i said: i guess. but i'm not as fat as this dude beside me... and as fat as the driver (pointing to the dude beside me and the dude behind the wheel, in an effort to make things funny...).
what i wanted to say, but didn't for reasons still unkown to me: where the fuck do you get off screaming out the obvious? you know what else is fat? your big, fucking mouth! it's better to be fat than, you know...fucking...old and shit.
teacher: (in a loud, almost desperate voice) but why not exercise? have you tried exercise?!! i mean, it's not really pleasant to look at if you're fat. i hear fat people have a hard time with everything... clothes, dieting, breathing...
what i said: (again, in another effort to be wholesome-ly funny) yeah i tried exercising, only to find out that answering worthless calls almost 24/7 at the office and writing articles and helping out in improving local music wasn't exactly called "exercise."
what i wanted to say, but didn't for reasons still unkown to me: exercise? alright, maybe fucking slapping you in the face and beating your eldest son to a pulp might help me lose a few pounds... oh wait, your eldest son is like... a bum right? i'm sorry, maybe i can raise him and do a better job at it and then lose a few pounds by doing so.
teacher: so where'd you come from? you still can't go to places without your mom?
what i said: i just came from my grandma's place. i haven't seen her in the longest time. my mom happened to be there. hold on, somebody's calling on my cellphone... (i lied...nobody was calling)
what i wanted to say, but didn't for reasons still unkown to me: i came from... your face. die bitch die.
teacher: you're related to (name of my aunt who's also a teacher), right? how is she? i heard she was raising her kids pretty badly (again, said in a loud voice for everyone to hear...)... they say they caught her eldest gambling at some wake. you should tell her to be a better mother.
what i said: er... ok. is that the mature, christian thing to do? i'll do it if you want me to. you're the teacher.
what i wanted to say, but didn't for reasons still unkown to me: she's already a better mother... because she's not you! what the fuck are you trying to prove?
teacher: susmaryosep! it's not the christian thing to do... it's the right thing to do. why the sarcasm? don't you go to church? i heard you were in a band... don't tell me you're in one of those devil-worshipping rock groups i've been hearing about... you should be ashamed... you went to a good catholic school.
what i said: er, ok. (at this point, i was trying to ignore her by putting on my earphones and fiddling with my ipod, didn't work...)
what i wanted to say, but didn't for reasons still unkown to me: as a matter of fact i am! jolly-fucking-good, ain't it? i worship lucifer, the morning star, and have come to spread death, famine, disease... and all that cool shit! Fucking daddy Satan's going to get medieval on your ass when you die... in five minutes, and burn in hell you stinking, righteous Jesus-freak! Ave, ave satanas! Hecate! Hear me, infernal majesty! Take this soul into thy wing, and burn her into kingdom come! (don't be afraid... this is not some weird incantation... this is just how i think one'll sound...)
teacher: so where do you work? does journalism graduate make a lot? how much do you make in a month?
what i said: i work for a music magazine. it's ok. it's fun...for me.
what i wanted to say, but didn't for reasons still unkown to me: i make four times more than what you earn, hag. i can actually buy you and your fucking righteous family. i can also have you killed. you're an idiot. i'm an asshole...by choice. what's the difference? i'd say about twenty grand...
teacher: oh music! i see. so you've interviewed rachelle ann go and sarah geronimo? there's this really good band i know...cueshe?
what i said: exactly. yes, that's exactly the type of music i enjoy. (because stupid people deserve to be treated stupidly...)
what i wanted to say, but didn't for reasons still unkown to me: exactly. yes, that's exactly the type of music i enjoy, you stupid, stupid lady.
+++after 30 minutes of more retarded echanges...+++
what i said: uh, we get off here... it was nice seeing you.
what i wanted to say, but didn't for reasons still unkown to me: FREEDOM! SWEET, FUCKING FREEDOM! see you in hell lady! fuck you and your college dream! fuck your bible-organized-religion shit! fuck you and your principles! fucking burn, i say... BURN!!!!!!!!!
teacher: God bless you, iho.
"what do you mean i'm not kind? i'm just not your kind."
-Dave Mustaine, Megadeth
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