Family Business

[Some say that the pen is mightier than the sword. This is definitely a more peaceful way of revenge. :)]

He hated it when they yell at each other. The things they say to each other were so precisely crafted, they hurt like a slow knife, carving deep into the heart. Of course they would always call a truce few days later, but he often wonders how they can look each other in the eyes and accepts each other’s overused “I didn't mean it”. He knows that they meant it in some ways. He is certain that they know that they meant it too. Moreover the truces they've ever called were just rest spites during which they rearm themselves with even more cruel statements and the setting of moral traps for each other.

The fights are not easy for him to endure. When hostility commences, sooner or later, he would be dragged into it, assuming the position of a judge. He dreads the job, dreads to have to pick a side that is in the right. How can he? He loves his parents way too much to do anything to harm either one. Not to mention the fact that they both have very valid arguments that are, in their own ways, right.

He knew, of course, that if he is just brave enough to talk to his parents about it. Just by telling them how much their fighting upsets him, the ordeals would stop. He knew, also, that they both love him as much as he loves them. He knew that they would do whatever for him. Whatever that pleases him. He knew if nothing else, he can stop the arguments before they are passed the point of no return. Oh he knew, he is just not brave enough to take action, and he hates himself very much for it.

One night his worst nightmare came true. It was the war to end all wars. The most vicious one he has experienced by far from his parents. The volume of their voices stunned him. Not sure what to do, if anything at all, he locked himself in his room and crouched in a corner, and started shaking.

His mind was grasped by a sudden urge to run downstairs to stop them from going any further. It took a while, but he ultimately had picked himself up and dragged his body to the door. He cracked the door open, but slammed it shut almost as quickly as he had it opened. The sound of shattering glassware had hit him like a sledgehammer. He was knocked right back to the same corner where he was too slow to act.

“Coward!” he called himself as he plugs a pair of ear buds in. Feeling lost and not giving a fuck, he irrationally slides the volume bar all the way up.

His ears were pulsating with pain, but he could've cared less. A question drifted into his consciousness, he wonders if they are really oblivious to the fact that whatever they are doing hurts him. But he was too tired to think any longer. He soon fell asleep.

He woke up early next morning with a stream of blood running out of his ears. He laid there for awhile until he noticed the familiar sound of his mother making breakfast was missing. He repeated the phrase “hopefully it’s just my ears” as he dresses to check on his parents.

It was a cold February morning, quite beautiful too. A snowstorm came through just the night before, leaving the neighborhood a smooth white complexion. Outside the children awoke early building snowmen and making snow angels. Everything looked so serene and harmless, but if one was to look closer, he or she would've noticed the two freshly made tire tracks in place of the usually late waking Haldemans' van and a hint of red was splattered on the windows of the master bedroom. And perhaps one would've also noticed the emptiness of the house from which a faint but definitely audible scream came.

But the children were busy having fun and the adults even busier preparing for the long day ahead of them.

Good Bye 2012

Since I've not been very festive about the last few holidays, I might as well hitch a ride on the bandwagon into 2013 while the chance is still present.

***

2012. Pretty routine. Other than the load of tests I had to take in the middle of the year and the internship thing. It would also be my first time of experiencing betrayal.

For the internship, all of us have to do a tri-fold presentation. It wasn't the kind that you have to present in front of everyone, not that we'll have the time for that anyway. All the tri-folds were put out on the hallways of our school for the teacher parent conferences and open house, and was taken down right after. They really were just obstructions after they served their purposes, and they don't benefit us in any shape or form.

We were given three weeks to finish the project. It was difficult because I'm not very interested in making artsy shit like fancy poster boards that shoots fireworks. Art I like, but poster boards, that is so 3rd grade. Not to mention the only things I have to make art with at home were a pair of scissor, a bottle of glue and a pack of color pencils my cousin gave me seven years ago. I wasn't exactly in the shape of making anything artsy and a betrayal from my intern partner didn't do anything to help either.

That fucker agreed to work on this poster board with me when I asked him during the internship. His job was to take all the pictures for the poster board and we'll split the work equally among us. But on the day we were given the rubric he flatly denied to anything of the sort and stated that he will refuse to work with me because he paid for the pictures he took to be printed on nice photo paper. Prick.

***

Now that 2012 is behind us, shall all the memories connected to it be gone with it. Lessons learned will be forgotten, emotions felt will be suppressed, shits happened will be disregarded. Older, fatter, more mature. I don't expect 2013 to be any different from 2012. Stupid worthless projects will still be given. Another Chlamydia outbreak at my school. And more the DOs and DON'Ts from our counselors.

(I'm still curious as to how exactly did the proper authorities found out about the outbreak.)

2013 will be the same, or as my friend had eloquently put it, "Same shit different year".

To stay festive: Happy new year to you all! Have a great 2013!

Dense Fog

The last few days started out blurry. Dense fog lingered deep into the afternoons, giving the world an unusual but supernatural appearance.

Almost everyday I wake when most of the world is still asleep in their beds. When no sounds were made by people or animal. No lights from the streetlights or the rising sun. When it was just me, alone in the dark, wandering and struggling to find my way through the thick cobweb to the bus stop.

I felt alone. The last man in the world. Concerns of the living and the dead seem to matter less and less. It was just me, trying to reach a destination for a purpose. Soon the sounds of passing car engines faded into the background and the destination and the purpose also waned.

I turned around as if someone had called. I looked afar, the fog was observed to glow a ghostly white. Straight dark lines stood there in an orderly fashion, as if I was looking into some great forest. Or perhaps they were the silhouettes of the dead, my ancestors. Could they have been looking at me, sizing me up?

I wondered if I've lived up to their expectations or if they knew what the future holds. But I was scared to ask. Scared to believe in the supernatural. And above all, I was scared to find out. But even if I had pull together my strengths, how would I've asked? I didn't even know their names. In the mass gathering of spirits, I was reluctant to embarrass them.

They read my mind as it appeared. Two bright dots began to come toward me. Am I ready to find out the truth, I pondered. I thought my answers were going to get answered, answered by the all knowing spirits that live in the other kingdom. I thought my deepest secrets were uncovered, laid bare in front of the mind readers. I also thought of many other things, but they shall remain buried. I was hoping for a chance to say sorry to my grandpa.

The lights flew passed me and a stroke of yellow followed.

"F***!" and I started running.

Autumn

A cold breeze had picked up, carrying away with it the last of the leaves from the almost bare branch.  In the corner a twister had spun into existence. Twisting all alone, like a dancer without the appreciation of its partner. And up in the sky the clouds hang lowly, shutting out the much loved golden rays originated from some 93 million miles away. For days it would linger, dampening everyone’s spirit and creates a depressing but fitting mood. And the tide is also turned against day on the eternal battle between it and night. Autumn came with force, even the strongest of the weeds are now bending under its wrath.

Out here in the suburb, the temperature would differ significantly from the forecasted one; colder, most of the time. The lively sidewalks once filled with screaming children and horrified squirrels are now cold and desolated. The once lush and soft lawn where the same children and their pets loved to play on is now stiff and colorless from the cold. Off to the side, the dried fallen leaves and its rotten versions are now making a disgusting but yet flowery smell. Autumn is a quiet season, even the anomaly Halloween causes this year was suppressed by its cold.

However autumn will soon come to past, replacing it will be winter. Soon the smell of wood smoke will perfume the neighborhood and permeates into everyone’s house, uncovering the defects in the claimed to be perfect insulation. Soon the first snow fall will come, covering everything in an innocent white. The imperfections we all possess will be hidden. And just for a while, we’ll all drop our cloaks and be our real selves. Naked and clean.

Soon, everything will change. Decisions made hundreds of miles away will arrive and my dreams will either come true, or stay as ridiculous wishes and left to be forgotten.

Soon, I will find out.

Now You Know

[My first "serious" poetry, wouldn't have done it unless was homework. I copied it straight out of my homework, so hopefully said programs (there are supposedly programs that would comb through the web to find if we plagiarized our homework from somewhere, nice lie) won't find this and cause me to have a conference with my teacher... I highly doubt it though.]


Born crying,
Without a dream,
And without a goal,
But my life went on.

Made troubles,
Sometimes silly,
And sometimes severe,
But they asked for it.

The water wasn’t friendly,
So weren’t the diseases,
It was a treacherous journey,
But I survived.

I fret,
I weep,
And sometimes curse,
When told to describe myself.
Perhaps I'm a still stranger to myself.

And The Torturing Begins

It felt like it was just yesterday that I was awoken by the sound of my radio and swore because of sleep deprivation. It was just last year that summer actually felt like it took three months to pass, but this year it went by so fast that it felt as if I’ve gone to bed on the first day of summer break and woke up already to a new school year. To whoever that is controlling the passing of time, please don’t mistakenly hit the fast forward button again next year.

Even though there was a million reasons for me to just shut the radio off and go back to sleep, but the routine must continue. As a creature of habit my morning was always the same, and it never would change. I woke up, got dressed, brushed my teeth, ate breakfast, and rushed off to my bus stop. I assumed that no one was going to be at the bus stop and I’ll have to stand there all alone by myself, but for once I was glad to be wrong.

Happiness overcame me when I saw my friends. I was expecting them to look somewhat different like how it had always happened, but puberty failed me expectations. I should’ve known that by the time when people made it to the last year of high school, they would’ve grown out of it and stop changing at such rapid paces. People looked the same, teachers looked the same. Other than the two different teachers I’m stuck with for the year and the congestions the new guys created in the hallway, nothing else hinted the beginning of a new school year.

The new guys reminded me of well, me. The confusion, the fear, I know it all too well. But I’m a senior this year, which gave me the right to slap the books off of the little children’s hands and walk away laughing or perhaps trip them up and gift them a few smashes in the face. I’m sure they will appreciate that, right? How can a decent human being deprive one of happiness and self esteem?

Oh the ironies.

Legs, Not Fins

I don't know how to swim, I don't care to learn how to swim, and if you think I should do so otherwise please leave me your address so I can send a giant F to you. There is a reason why we were born with legs, not with fins attached to the sides and the end of our body. There is a reason why we have lungs, not gills. There is also a reason why we have the ability to consume marine creatures and thankfully, not the other way around.

Admitting this was hard, as a stranger, as a friend, or even as an anonymous blogger on the internet*. Other than my parents and now you, no one else know about my lack of interest in swimming. Living in a society where 11 out of 10 people know how to swim, admitting that you don't know how to do so is almost the same as admitting that you are somehow inferior to the others. Just watch a few of the recent Olympic games if you disagree. Why do people strive to achieve so much when in the end, it all means nothing. You might have made your mark in history, but give it a week, your existence will mean nothing for another four years and a crappy worthless medal is all that is left. Not to mention that out of a pool of able body only the lucky few will make it to the end and most will just suffer from the pain while gaining nothing. No pain no gain? So is much pain no gain.

Even though I don't know how to swim, at least I tried learning the how-tos. When I was little my dad quite often takes me to the pool, but I have never managed to stay afloat without the bubble. Back then I was rather underweight, but it appeared that I like to sink as if I were grotesquely overweight instead. I guess I was not biologically up for these kind of activities, but then again I was born with legs, not with fins attached to the sides and the end of my body. After a while my dad realized that I didn't appreciate swimming very much and stopped taking me to the pool.

Not long after, something happened. Probably could've taken my life if I didn't make a huge splash sound in the process. It was embarrassing to recall what had happened actually. I was out on a picnic trip with my family and some friends. We arrived at this one remote looking place with fruit trees all around. There were apples, oranges, pears, and other exotic fruits, all within arm's length. All of us were drawn towards this fruit forest, but my attention was soon captured by an out of place circle structure somewhat obscured by the trees.

The structure was about two meters tall and probably the same length in diameter. At first I thought it was a well but it was lacking a roof. A girl, who was maybe a year younger saw me and also came over to this well to investigate. Both of us climbed up to the top, and looked into it. The well was half filled with water with a large population of plankton, which gave the water a slime green color similar to the color of the tiles that lined the inside of this well. Of course for being such a observant fellow I was back then, I was arguing with the girl that the well was dry and that what she correctly thought was water was just green tiles.

She had none of it and claimed that there are even green snakes in the well.

"Are you stupid? The well is dry, if there are snakes down there we can probably see it! Fine I'll prove it to you that it's just tiles!"

I judged the height to be sure that I could climb back out and I jumped right in.

I was stunned instantly, physically as well as emotionally. I was almost completely submerged in the slime green water and I couldn't see a thing, it was thick with plankton. I was about to panic but one thought took hold of me. Something my mom once told me, "if you take a deep breath and hold it, you will float." For obvious reasons I didn't take the life saving(or ending) deep breath, but I didn't dare let my last breath to escape me either. I didn't struggle for air, like they do in the movies. Finally slowly and surely, I began to float toward the top and was able to see the sky, but I still couldn't breath. For what it seemed to be an eternity, I lay submerged in the water and thinking that I finally learnt how to swim(or at least how to float).

A few more eternities went by and my vision began to blur and darken, but help came at last. I heard a low murmuring voice and I did exactly it told me to do, to put out my hand.

"Huurrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!" I gasped for air.

***

For the rest of the day while the adults and other children were having fun grilling and eating the fruits they found, I was busy trying to pick out the dried plankton in my ears and nostrils.



*There is no such thing as anonymity on the internet.