I exhausted myself to death for three days for only two stories. Tiny stories. Why I do this, I dunno. It’s just there’s this tiny force inside me that keeps me doing what I do.
HE IS MY CHILD
And in that instant that boy with his face on the sand became a girl with long flowing black hair, wearing a pink Disney princess dress, lifeless against the surf. He is my child. He should be everyone’s child.
Everything else is so trivial.
The end
You know you’re at your limit when Facebook begins to stress you out.
CARMAGEDDON
For several quarters, car sales in the Philippines has grown by double-digits. Thanks to very low interest rates and down payments, car ownership has become so easy in a country that has managed to expand above 5% for several years. Unfortunately, roads have not expanded at the same rate as car sales. Add to that the incompetent MMDA chief who has made election campaigning his top priority. Metro Manila roads now are hopeless.
It’s carmageddon all the way until the end of Christmas holidays.
The 3-hour travel time from Makati to Quezon City used to be just a one-off thing–something you will encounter during really bad traffic situations like last-week-before-Christmas-break rush or during freak events like huge rallies in some parts of the metro.
But no, 3-hour travel time now is the norm. I encounter this at least once a week. It’s better to drive from Makati to Los Banos, Laguna on any given day because it’ll only take you 1.5 hrs compared to Makati-QC, which can take you 2-3 hrs after 5 pm.
If only the effing trains really work. Not the kind of sh*t you encounter at 6 am-7 am: the kilometer-long lines leading up to the train platforms. Not the kind of crap you have to face when the trains break down because maintenance work could only salvage a small part of the whole system. Because the government has been dilly-dallying for so long, pandering to populist noise. Because officials had been milking the rail system for heaven knows how long.
Because people refused to pay up as well. You want convenience, you pay for convenience. Train rides are not free.
I used to take public transport because I can. Now it seems like it can kill me in so many ways.
Already declared my desire to move back south. It’ll keep me sane for a few more years, I think.
HUGOT OF THE YEAR
So much feels in this one.
Taking It All Apart (A fiction)
The only light source right now is the laptop’s LCD screen. Quite ghastly, if I may say so but it’s perfect right now. I feel like a hundred bombs have been thrown my way and I am removing a thousand pieces of shrapnel off my flesh one by one. Ghastly light source and badly broken self go hand in hand.
God told me to let go and that He will catch me. He told me that several times over the years but I was too stubborn to heed His call. I told God, “I can handle this, I am strong, I came from a family of strong women.”
Idiot.
God could have slapped me in the face then to bring me to my senses but He didn’t. He waited patiently. Oh, so patient that I am surprised by His tenacity and faithfulness. But then I shouldn’t be.
The earthly body is weak and human capacity for bearing so much pain and beating is only this much that I was already leaving a trail of my crap all over the place. My innards were hanging from my open wounds for all to see. I was making so much mess that I am so ashamed of showing my face but there He was–He took me in His arms and rocked me to sleep until I whimpered “I surrender”.
Then I finally gave in. I let go. As I fell from the 22nd floor of my hotel room in Hong Kong, my last thought was, how bloody can this be? Will I see my body chalked on the pavement? Again?
I have seen that done to me a couple of years ago when I was reunited with Him. I was so battered and broken that I wondered how my body can heal again. He just said, “Leave it. I will build you another one.” So there was I, staring at this forlorn figure sprawled on the burning pavement of Manila while His angel carried me over his shoulder. I saw the policemen cordoning off the scene with yellow tape but they were too busy to see that the bystanders had already eviscerated my cadaver.
Then I saw my old self. It was empty.
I clutched at my chest. A huge beating muscle was there. A heart of a mother that is capable of infinite love for her children. I am still alive, I exclaimed. Then the angel flew higher to get me the 1.5 version of me. The 2.0 version would have to wait, God was still perfecting it, the angel said.
Fast-forward. As I was falling from my hotel room to slam onto the concrete below, I wondered how my 1.5 version could take the impact.
Bam!
It was tougher than I thought. My head was made of fiberglass though so that’s the first thing I lost. But my heart was encased in some kind of carbon-steel alloy so at least that was safe. Or so I thought. However, a huge piece of titanium from my right arm managed to pierce through the heart through several chinks that I have managed to make in the course of my usage of version 1.5. So I pay the price. Heart is bleeding profusely and O2 sats and blood pressure are dropping fast.
Then a 16-wheeler lorry ran over v. 1.5.
Yep, it was bloody alright. Que horror! I could still stand, albeit with a lot of pieces missing here and there. But I am still rooted to the same spot so all I could do is wait for the paramedics to pronounce me dead or alive. And wait. Then darkness enveloped me once again and I now only have my laptop’s LCD screen as source of light. Ghastly, I know but what choice do I have?
Then I could hear the distant sound of flapping wings. Angels.
Then God whispered in my ear, ever so softly. “Version 2.0 is almost done.”
He has taken my world apart to build me a new one.
1 Peter 5:10 “And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.”