Uncertainties

“My philosophy, in essence, is the concept of man as a heroic being, with his own happiness as the moral purpose of his life, with productive achievement as his noblest activity, and reason as his only absolute.”
Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged 35th Anniversary Edition

Is it possible for depravity to exist in the soul of a moral man? What makes a man wicked and corrupt and go against the common concept of what is right? What or who gives the right to a man to do what is not right?

Standing above being hurt and disillusioned, I tried to shed away my feelings so I can make use of my intellect to deduct from the recent incidents why things had to be the way they were. Several of those that I fervently believe in, were wantonly disregarded and trampled upon by a force that was exuding with malice – something that was not from the side of good and definitely something malevolent that it will generate further chaos in this seemingly orderly place.

It doesn’t matter what I feel – as I don’t want to receive sympathy from others who may see me hurt. What matters is the safeguarding of what is just and fair as the disdain towards these will lead to the disruption of the sacred balance that keeps everyone affected - secured and contented. It doesn’t matter what I do – as I do things according to what my conscience dictates as right. The source of my conscience is deeply rooted to the very essence of what is moral, good and decent. I uphold what is honorable and ethical. I try to be a near-perfect man, an honest man. I have seen so much deception and sham, and my mental power cannot comprehend the reason behind such actions and decisions. It doesn’t matter what I think – as I think according to my own good. If each people should think of their own good in an honest-to-goodness way, without deceit or taking advantage over the weak and underprivileged, and without using their positions and powers for personal profits, then everything should turn out good.

Looking back, I didn’t understand how things happened the way they did because I didn’t know what to understand. I was kept out of the loop of what was really happening, and in turn, I had no way of knowing on how to deal with the situations at hand. I am not used to acting without thinking, or thinking without acting – thus, for once, I decided to break out. I couldn’t bear being unwise and the wisest step I could do that time was to totally step-out and`stop being a part of something I couldn’t understand. I believed that their world would still be a world without me – because I was made to feel that I was not part of it. And if I was to remain in their world, I would either be subjected to their unprincipled principles or be rejected for being the man that I am.

A depraved man will remain depraved; a sucker of all that is good. He thinks his intentions are good but he is a swindler and a schemer; doing things to achieve a personal gain or just to project an image that he is good in the eyes of those whom he thinks as people-that-matter. He tries to achieve what is beyond his abilities by using cunning and deception and not by investing on improving his self and enriching his worth.

An honest man will never step over other people just to achieve what he wants to achieve. As he is honest, he will create his own ladder and work on achieving things step-by-step, with integrity and honesty, never resorting to short-cuts and never asking for an achievement to be bestowed to him, and to be given to him as if out of charity. An honest man will remain honest even if the crooked will use him and bribe him with the glory of being on top. For what is glory if not truly, genuinely and honestly achieved… but was simply given?

This world was corrupted with the notions of the depraved man- and pity to those who tried to remain moral and honest. We have come to the age that all that matters is image; and that you are who others think you are. The being and core of man was encrypted by a virus that sucks out the essence of man – leaving him to become an animal with nothing in his mind but domination through deception and survival through swindling. It seems that all the people around us are people who are not people as they are not the real people inside their shells. Somewhere embedded in the depths of people is the honest man who was defeated by the temptations of being great; by making other people less of who they are.

A great man was great because he did great things. The great things he did were the fruits of his great thinking. His great thinking created the great plans that will be executed as great actions. The great actions produced the great things. Therefore, a great man is the only one capable of being great, thinking great, planning great, doing great, and producing great… It makes me throw up even just to think what does a depraved man think, plan, do and produce. They have no place in this world.

Yet, it’s funny and frustrating that they flourished. They flooded the past and future with the toxins of their furious perversion. The lies of their tongues tickle throngs of people, tempting them to turn against the good and torment their lives through thoughts of impurity and impunity. They are different and indifferent; they are not human and humane.

As I still have my reasons and sanity, I decline to take part of this twisting of the truth. I do not want to slant the straight and perverse the perfect. If I leave, I leave because I am not defeated, but because I can’t bear to be a part of something so wrong. I uphold my principles, virtues and beliefs for these are the things that will keep me apart from the depraved man. I will go to where I can not be influenced and subjected by the vile villains of the world. I will remain as I am. I have deduced conclusions from disillusions. I will remain devoted against depravity. I will remain a common man, an honest man.

This is a world of inexhaustible chances…

Chances are- the chance you will have the chance to encounter another chance is this very chance. Often times we take chances for granted as they seemingly come and go. A chance that was gone was gone forever. We may have another similar chance, but the circumstances around that new chance is totally different. Time is the essence of chance and it’s augmented by location. A same chance at a different time, in a different location – is not the same chance.

Only the significant chances are counted in this world. And the most significant of all chances is the chance of falling in love. It could either be spontaneous or conscious, either unprompted or deliberate – but still, it’s a chance we tend to always remember, especially when we’re already being faced with the choice to let go of that chance and give way to another. It has been said then and again that falling in love is a chance but staying in love is a choice. If falling in love is just a chance, then the possibility that we fall in love in this lifetime is billion times! How could a single, fist-size, thumping heart could handle the whizzes and whooshes of unending stimulations when feeling an intense affection towards others?

When two people meet by chance and they both choose to take advantage of the chemistry they both experience due to the surge of chemicals in their bodies – that is the phenomenon we call “falling in love.” This is a stage of being irrational, delirious and legally insane… and this will lead to the creation of something beautiful – a loving relationship. It is unconceivable that from something crazy as chance, something lovely as love is conceived. Once conceived, love becomes a lonely entity between people. It becomes embattled with pride, lies, prejudices and deceit.

With inexhaustible chances – we also have finite choices. This is what makes us human. With the ability to think and decide within the boundless realm of chances, we utilize our freedom of choice to demonstrate that we care not much for our chances; instead we value more our choices.

A love that was conceived out of chance can withstand all the other chances that time may introduce to each of the persons involved, should they have the ability to always stand by it – to always make the choice to always choose that the chance they had was the best chance and that the love they created out of that chance was the best love. It took two persons to make that chance a loving relationship yet it will only take one to break it by a simple choice of simply not giving that chance an importance anymore.

This universal phenomenon of chances and choices has been incorporated in the mindset of many people across cultures and throughout the generations. From the perspective of Hinduism – chance is Brahma, as it offers a way for creation. Choice is Vishnu as it is the maintainer while chance is also Shiva as it is also the destroyer. Chance creates and destroys… it bestows a way to the conception of something new yet it also bestows a way for the abortion of what was conceived. It is an infinite cycle that can only be stopped should we make the choice to maintain what was conceived out of chance.

Chance is one of the few things in this world that we have control of, as it is a product of conundrums that are provoked by the swirls of seconds in a clock and the presence of luck in a place. Choice, on the other hand, is the only other thing that in this world that is certain, aside from death and taxes. We make choices every moment of everyday – and we can either be glad or feel remorse on the outcome of our choices, but once made, it can’t be undone.

We chose to be who we are but what we chose to become was influenced by chances. Along the way, we took chances and these are those that made life more exciting. If we are to only live with the natural course of way of living and simply do what’s expected of us to do, then, existence could be as boring as void. Either way, chances are what makes us “more” while choices are what make us “us”.

The significance of a four-year cycle in this world is evident in whatever field or facet we may turn to… even in my own world.

In the world of stocks and brokerage, there is an amazing phenomenon known as the four-year cycle. It marks great buying opportunities and it’s being kept track by investors in order to gain more for their long-term investments. Many theories have been put forth to try and explain it. Some say it is due to the presidential cycle, some that it is due to the business cycle, some to astrology or other esoteric phenomena.

In the world of health and medicine, there was another four-year cycle that was being studied. A research was conducted in Spain and several clinical practice guidelines have been developed to establish why asthma and hypertension surge with their number of occurrences every four years.

In the world of animal husbandry, there is what they call the hog-cycle and cobweb theorem that happens every four years. It can be described in terms of prices or production and involves the interrelationships among three manifestations – price, pig crop and slaughter.

Anyway, two nights ago, I was exchanging text messages with one of my dearest friend as I was feeling low again. The symptoms of my previous condition (see “My Head” Blog) were recurring. Itchy legs that sometimes I couldn’t resist to scratch until my fingers dig deep enough to see traces of blood… This time it was worse, it was my face that getting itchy but I didn’t dare scratching it or else, people will see me bloody-faced! Somehow, I was trying to be on top of my emotions. As I know it would harder for me to resurface from my depression should I allow my self to wallow on my miseries.

Why?

Why can’t I just be happy and live without this recurring madness? It’s cyclical – an event I have already anticipated to happen again yet I was again unprepared this time. According to the diagnosis of the shrink I consulted with four years ago, aside from my emotions, my depression was caused by some chemical imbalance in my brain that makes my amygdala more active than my neurocortex. Thus, my emotions are being more dominant than my logical thinking. But why?

I tried to look back and reassess my life back when I was a child until the other day when I was crying again for no apparent reason… The cycle was every four years! Leap year happens every four years. The Olympics happen every four years… among these; my depression comes every four years! As if some cosmological force is making my head churn every four years … and oh! I just thought of another coincidence – this year is also a leap year and also, the Beijing Olympics is taking place… Some coincidence… As the world celebrates the glory of the human physique through athletics and promotes global camaraderie through friendly competitions, the general population of world automatically accept that they will add one more day to their calendars. But in my own world, I suffer from chemical imbalances in my brain and induce me to revert to myself and be a psychologically imbalanced individual, harboring all the negative feelings I have felt since I was a child.

As I mentioned in my previous blogs, my earliest memories can be traced back when I was 3 years old. Therefore, something might have happened when I was 4 years old that may have triggered the four-year cycle of my madness.

I was born 1980, year of the monkey and the Olympic Games were held in Moscow, Russia. It was said that I was predestined to be inventive, versatile, humorous, generous, intelligent, witty, lively, independent, and charming. However, I was also said to be manipulative, opinionated, conceited, egotistical, capricious, superficial, meddling and careless. About one of my many acquaintances in my 28 years of existence may have seen one of these characteristics in me. I am a conglomeration of ironies and extremities, depending on the environment I am in. And maybe, because of these predestined traits of someone born in the monkey-year, I tried to live them all – and in turn, I became a mixed-up person, with mixed-up emotions and mixed-up personalities.

1984 when my younger brother, Richard was born. That was also the end of my being the youngest in the family. It was also the beginning of my being an attention-seeker, working on bringing the full-attention of my family back to me. I was supposed to be the youngest – as I heard from my mother before that she and my dad only planned to have three kids. But since we were all boys, they decided to have another try, and well, Richard was another boy. This was the year when my mom stopped carrying me, and my relatives started teasing me that I will not be the favorite anymore. I couldn’t even get the chance to sit on my mama’s lap anymore, because she was busy with her new baby. Even if I cried and asked to be comforted, I was being turned away. They said I was not a baby anymore so I would just go to some corner and sulk, hoping that they would come and look for me, to comfort me and to make me feel better. They would come to look for me –but only to be scolded for being such a baby when I was not supposed to be a baby anymore. I can’t remember being close to my dad those days, he was away for most of my childhood years. And I don’t have any memory of my dad carrying me on his shoulders, like the pictures I saw of a happy kid with a happy father. I thought they were not happy for me and or even because of me. That’s why they decided to have another baby.

That year, the Olympic Games were held Los Angeles, California.

The years that followed made me more determined to win back my place in the family. In 1985, my mother already enrolled me attend the local elementary school. There was no pre-school in our town – it, being an interior small farming community where there was not even a public market or a hospital. I was made to attend the class with the regular grade one students while I was just there to – well, sit-in. My teacher was Mrs. Manuela S. Gonzales. At age of 5, she taught me how to read and write. But since I was too young and my name was not really in that year’s class list, I was only given an award during the recognition day, the very first award I received from school – a medal for being the Most Active Kindegarten Pupil. It was my dad who came with me to accept my medal – I was wearing my first blue jeans, a collared shirt with horizontal red and white stripes and a blue Mighty Kid shoes… I was all smiles and I remember how I put my left arm around my daddy’s right thigh while we were on the stage. He just patted me on the shoulder – that maybe was his way of saying I did a good job. I loved what I felt that day… so I made it a point that for every recognition day, I will get the top honors- always.

1988 – Another leap year and I was in Grade 3. My mom gave birth to Regie Abel, our youngest. It was another attempt to have a girl among the 4 existing Sebastian boys, but my parents weren’t lucky enough. I guess I was unlucky too because his birth made me the middle child. I have two older brothers and two younger brothers – I was sandwiched in the middle and my dilemmas as a middle child made their grand entrance into my life during this year.

In 1988, I realized that I was a kid without a dream when my teacher asked us to write a paragraph on what we wanted to become. My eldest brother Rexford wanted to become a dentist while my other brother Reynante wanted to become an engineer. I wanted to become more than what they will become but I ended up with nothing to write in my paper. Just to have something to submit, I wrote that I wanted to be a teacher, which eventually came true. Rexford became a teacher too but he married a dentist, while Reynante became a Civil Engineer.

I was eight years old when I had this very vague and strange feeling that I will not grow old. It seemed like that I was predestined to die young, but I didn’t know how or why. I planned my life to be lived only until I will be 30 years old and what happens beyond that is nothing. It was then I learned the concept of making the most out of my young life… I wanted that even if I was to die young, I will be remembered and that I have made a difference in the world. At the age of eight, my biggest fear was to die and no one will come to my wake.

As a middle child, I had no right to put up a fight with my two older brothers – because they were older. I could not fight back to my two younger brothers also – because they were younger. But I had a one big fight with my eldest brother that stuck with me for quite some time… In an exchange of words, he may have intentionally wanted to hurt my feelings because he couldn’t win a word-fight with me – so he said “Ampon ka lang!” (“You’re just adopted!”). I knew it wasn’t true but I couldn’t shake it off. I started reflecting and remembering instances in my young life when I was treated unfairly. That night I wrote a note to my parents, because I planned to run away. But I was just 8 years old and can’t seem to find the courage to leave. So I stayed, with a deep grief in my heart thinking if I was really a part of my family or not. I started to question my existence – and the only way to prove it was to see any documents that may prove my birthright. One afternoon when my parents were not home, I went to their room and checked on the big clear plastic envelop where I knew my mom was keeping all the important documents in the house. I saw all my other brothers’ birth certificate except mine – all I saw pertaining to me was my baptismal certificate – and I was already 3 years old when I was baptized in the church.  I cried a lot that day – I excused my self from dinner and told them I wasn’t feeling okay. My young mind could only deduce one thing – I was not part of my family before I was three. At that age, I was able to justify that if in case I was just adopted, I was blessed that I was taken in by a family who was God-fearing and very closely-knitted. I took that as an inspiration – to prove that I was worth having in the family. For a time, I was driven by my desire to be accepted as a real member of my family – and to feel that I was loved even if I was not a real member. I only learned that I was a real Sebastian two years later – when I was joining a contest that required me to submit a birth certificate. Our Local Civil Registrar provided me a copy – and that was the biggest relief I felt from an emotional burden that was tormenting me for the longest time.

That year, the Olympic Games were held in Seoul, South Korea.

1992 and it was the end of my elementary schooling. Our graduation day was set about a month before my 12^th birthday. As expected by, I was the Valedictorian of our batch. I was to receive several awards but on the day of the graduation, I went to community center alone because I did not want to be late for the program. My parents were busy with the preparation of the party they were hosting at lunch time, because my eldest brother was also graduating from high school that year and he was their batch’ Salutatorian. The graduation rite’s first part was the processional. I was supposed to lead all the graduates because it was an earned right and honor but the processional couldn’t be started because my dad and mom weren’t around. All the other parents were there and they were asking me if where were my parents… and I didn’t know what to say. I was frustrated and embarrassed. I went to my teacher and when I was approaching her, I just felt tears falling from my eyes. She hugged me and she said it’s going to be alright. She was the one who walked with me during the processional. I wasn’t smiling in any of the pictures taken during my elementary graduation. My parents arrived in time to listen to my speech which was before the awards were given out. I didn’t felt like celebrating the occasion, so during the party at our house, I never mingled with the guests but stayed outside our house all the time, under the jackfruit tree – wishing one of the big jackfruits to fall on my head because I just felt so low… 

Two weeks after that uneventful graduation – I was supposed to play at my very first piano recital. I was taking piano lessons for about 3 months already and my instructor decided to have a recital for all his students. I was dressed up and my dad was supposed to drive me to the venue. I was in a hurry because I didn’t want to be late – with the graduation incident in my mind… I knew I didn’t want to be late! I guessed I pissed-off my dad because I remember him whipping his belt at my back and butt while I was kneeling and crying. I didn’t go to my recital and I stopped playing the piano that day.

That year, the Olympic Games were held in Barcelona, Spain.

Four years later and I was about to graduate from high school – 1996. All my years in high school were nothing but splendid except during the last year when I was stripped of all those that I worked hard for. Due to a series of unfortunate events and my family’s involvement in big religious scandal that was splattered among the country’s major newspapers and tabloids, that the national television feasted on, and the local radio stations talked about for months – I wasn’t declared as the valedictorian of the graduating class, despite having the highest grades and getting all the major awards. It was then that I learned that people are ignorant and their grasp of reality and truth are superficial. The world’s version of truth is limited to the empirical and that reality does not go beyond to things that they see. I was disillusioned by the world – and I was made cynical and disenchanted with life in general.

That was the year I lost my faith in the media – as I learned that all those blubbering newscasters and commentators were just blubberers – they talk about things that they think would entice the general population to listen to them. The truths about the news are found in the event itself – and it can never be presented truthfully by either written or verbal words. What we read in the newspapers and what we see in newscasts are nothing but half-truth, a second hand - edited version of what was truth. The victims of crimes being reported were not only those that were aggravated by the culprits and suspects. The culprits and suspects become victims of media too, being a powerful instrument to manipulate the mind of the public – condemnation and prejudice can be easily implanted in the subconscious mind of the general audience. Those that were simply alleged to have committed crimes or wrongdoings become guilty and censured, criticized and reprimanded, rebuked and attacked.

I knew what the truth was then… My family has been a devout believer of the Pentecostal doctrines – we were brought up with the Bible as guidance and that Sunday was always a special day. My mom and dad were model citizens; they were helpful, meek and were never involved in anything that could be a source of gossip. Ours was a model family – my father being a farmer who paid his taxes up to the last cent, my mom being an administrator of the only high school in our town and with their kids who were all achievers and were never seen drinking or loitering around our small community. Our life revolved around our own family, and of course, us kids with our schooling plus the church.

Let me quote the Bible (New International Version) – Acts 2:4 said “All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them.” And then in Acts 2:13 it said:  “Some, however, made fun of them and said, "They have had too much wine.” How many people have actually read this passage in the Bible? How many people do actually believe that this happens in so many Christian congregations? And how many people condemns those congregations who got to experience the “speaking in other tongues” as a sign of the baptism of the Holy Spirit? And in turn, since these people condemns the manifestation of the Holy Spirit, how many of them commit blasphemy towards the third persona in the Holy Trinity?

That night when people around the church witnessed that majority of our members were speaking in other tongues, and some claimed that they thought the church was on fire because it was unexplainably bright – they didn’t think that we were merely drunk. Because of ignorance and stupidity, they concluded the worse – we were all possessed by demons. They called the police and worse – the media. Then the incident was dubbed as the “Kulto sa Isabela” issue – a doomsday cult that involved human sacrificing and demon possession which stirred the whole nation – it was even in CNN and BBC.

I knew how was it to be ostracized by the whole community, to have no friends, to be judged and be the topic of negative talks. People wouldn’t dare talk to me, stare straight into my eyes or even go near me in the fear that the demon inside me will be transferred to them. I had a girlfriend then, who didn’t even bothered knowing the truth but judged me as the media and the community judged me, to be guilty of not even a crime but because of my faith. I experienced how to walk on the streets, and people part ways and depart when they see me. Our house was being stoned every night and when we wake in the morning, there were salts all around it, a superstitious effort to drive away the demons inside us. We were publicly condemned, maliciously reviled and there was a seemingly unending denunciation because of what we believed in.

I learned not to question the faith and belief of other people… and I learned not to impose that what I believe in is the absolute truth. The price I have to pay for faith – I lose my place in the honor roll, I lose my friends, I lose my trust to the people around me. But I never lose my faith. I was driven towards myself and my only support group was my family. Then I had to leave for the University (of the Philippines) – to be away from my family, my comfort zone and my only place of serenity. There were nights that I would pray it would rain – and if I would, I would go out and be soaked till I feel that all of me, body and soul, was drenched in the hope that I may get sick so I can have a reason to go home and be with my family.

That year, the Olympic Games were held in Atlanta, Georgia in the US.

The millennium craze hit the world when the year 2000 was approaching. But I wasn’t part of it- the year 2000 would just mean another year in my life’s four-year cycle and I will be crazy again. I was turning 20 years old that year and I already had my shares of broken and failed relationships. At 20, I learned that love is overrated – that people love or like you because of not who you are but because of what they think you are. I was told I was loved several times but I never really felt loved –but rather used.

I was supposed to graduate from the University that year, but I did not. I was so involved with so many extra-curricular activities which led me to compromise my studies, and in turn, I lack the required number of units in order to march that year. I was a member of seven organizations – four of which I was active and I was officer in two. I was also with the University Student Council as the duly elected representative of my college and I was an active member of several committees. I was a member of a singing group. I used to go out every night and party…

I sought to be elected as the Chairperson of our College Council and I ran as an independent candidate. I was against someone from the strongest student political party at that time – the activist group. At the night when the counting of ballots was being held, I was a candidate for a male pageant in our college. I was already exhausted during the election period and it wasn’t the best time for me to display my self and be judged while on the stage. I got the Mr. Talent award… while outside the theater, in the lobby of the building, the college electoral board was having a hard time counting the votes. The results came out – I won by 5 votes, but the total votes casted, the total number of ballots and the votes counted on the tally sheet did not match. A recount was conducted and still, the result was not favorable to the other party and they protested. After the third recount, the result was still under protest so the electoral board decided to have the recount at another date. The activist group demanded for a reelection. On the day of the recount, representatives from the other party came and declared before the start of the counting that what they wanted was a reelection and they will not uphold whatever the result of the recount is going to be as they thought that the election process was tainted and the ballots were tampered. It offended the electoral board but they proceeded with the recount. I lost by just mere one vote. The activist party took the position – so much for their principles, with all their declarations and protests.

Because of my failure to graduate on time and among other things – I disappointed my father. This was the year that he barely talked to me. He would only talk to me if I would call home and he’s the one to answer the phone and all he would say was “you’re mother’s not home, call back later.” It was hurting to be talked by my father that way but I was able to patch things with him later that year…

That year, the Olympic Games were held in Sydney, New South Wales, Australia.

I started working in 2001 and my journey from the academe to the corporate world was overwhelming with events, both good and bad. But I was on top of myself, rather, with my emotions and I tried to be as stable as I could. I made some errors in life and in love but the biggest hit came to me in 2004 – as it was a leap year again, another year in my four-year cycle.

My promotion as a Team Manager in my first call center came around May that year – with a team that was closely-knitted and all were friends. It was a very healthy working environment and people love coming to work. But on my first day as a Team Manager, I rushed myself to the hospital and I was confined for a week because of acute gastritis and atrial septal defect – a heart-related concern. Few months after, with the election in the US, the company who outsourced us decided to back up John Kerry who was anti-outsourcing. Our department was closed and I decided to rather leave the company than work without my team. I transferred to another industry and I started as a Marketing Manager, and few months later, I was designated as Assistant Vice President. At 24, this was too much… too soon. My emotions took control over my logic and I plunged my self deep into depression.

I sought professional help. I attempted suicide. I was nearly committed to the basement ward of Makati Medical Center. I resigned from work. I bummed for 2 months, in which I almost never left my pad. I was beyond help, or so I thought… until I decided to help my self and be over with my insanity.

That year, the Olympic Games were held in Athens, Greece.

This year, the Olympic Games are going to be held in Beijing, China.

Last week, I took an on-line training in the office entitled “Emotional Intelligence.” I read that it is a good sign for people who are depressed to recognize the condition they are in because it means they wanted to get better. I am depressed and the symptoms appeared months ago but I want it to be over soon. It’s not doing me any good if I am going to let my emotions take control over my self again. As a result, I even filed my resignation from work but our Assistant Vice President talked me out of it… This time, it was due to disappointments (again) and disillusionment (again).

I like working for my company as it is one of the best companies in the world. I have no problems with my team as they have shown through words and actions that they like and respect me. I knew then that I am doing my job. But somewhere deep inside me, I can sense that there is something amiss… something is wrong and I am really trying hard to shake it off. I knew the world is unfair based on my experiences but as much as possible we want it to be fair. If sense of fairness is taken out from a person in the workplace, the balance between working for one’s self and working for the company will be threatened, leaving the person to be simply a person who goes to work because of simply going to work and no further reason can be established. The company I work with prides itself to have Fair as one of its core values… but so much for fairness…

The most depraved people are those who have no sense of purpose. They are the ones who can be easily corrupted by wherever environment you are going to put them in. The work place is where you can see the most depraved of them all… and it pains to see that they are the ones who have the power or aspire for more power. It’s hypocrisy to say that people don’t work for compensation but for the love of their jobs. But the hypocrites get the more recognition because of well… hypocrisy. To work in order to please the bosses is another form of wickedness in the work place. There is a work to be done because the work has a purpose – and that purpose goes beyond pleasing those who are on top of you. When work is done as it should be done, growth starts from there. The objective of a working man should be to work and not to please.

I have seen decadent people who would go beyond being human just to please the bosses and be recognized. They go beyond being human by being inhuman… they step on other people’s head to go on the top. They try to find faults in other people so their faults will be covered. They try to project that they are good but that is the only thing they are good at –projecting. They don’t even seem to know their objective in work and in life… that is the key: objectivism.

To work with these people is corrupting my self. But given the choices and circumstances I have now, I guess I will have to endure until such time that I can move out and move on. I will have to live with disappointments and disillusionments for the time being. I guess it’s good to know that I am already disappointed and disillusioned – I will be able to be on top of everything and whatever bad things that will happen in the succeeding months, they are all going to be part of my disappointments.

I was told to forgive myself. It wasn’t my fault why I was caught in  what I thought as a cycle of failures and disappointments. I guess, for me to forgive myself, I have to know what my fault is… but all I know as my fault is - I am trying to live…

I am depressed but I want to be better… Being caught again in my four-year cycle is something inevitable. This will happen again in 2012 and I will be 32 years old by then – that is if I will live beyond 30, as the vague and strange feeling I had since I was 8 still lingers.

That year, the Olympic Games are going to be held in London, Great Britain.

I used to be a sucker…

Yes, I sucked… for affirmation and recognition coming from other men. I used to be a pleaser. I wanted to please almost everybody so I will always be liked. I couldn’t bear the thought that there’s someone out there that abhors me or thinks me as someone they don’t like. I wanted to be liked. I lived as if I was living for others. I was always around when someone needed me. I would run to and rush to anyone who would ask for me or for my help. I was trying to be Superman. Until I realized that Superman sucked…

At my age, I am relatively young in the grown-ups’ world but I have been to many places and mingled with too many faces. I am a small-town boy. As I was raised in a town where everyone knows everyone and each face you will see is familiar, pleasing everybody was way much easier then. You just have to do the things that were expected from you and you’re already pleasing the town’s people and that they’re already proud of you just by being associated to you as their town-mate.

It was so easy getting affirmations then. Go to the stage and perform exceptionally well and they will give you claps and smiles. Join a contest and win, then all you will get are affirmative nods and praises. Be somewhere they have never been, do something only few have done, and create an image that they will surely look up to… for sure you will always be looked-up to.

Image matters… you are who you project. People know you because of what they see in you. You are who others think of you. Therefore, your identity is being defined by the people who saw you, known you or heard of you. No one has the right to define themselves as they are because that definition will just be “not true.” No man knows who he really is as the there is no such thing as man… Man is non-existent as it was replaced by men.

Almost all people can’t live on their own… after all, we were taught of the thought that “no man is an island” since the very first time we started to think. We were taught that dependency is good because it creates a bond and camaraderie; even something deeper than friendship. No one can exist on his own; therefore, we have to learn to co-exist with one another. To co-exist, we have to have a symbiotic relationship with each human being. We have to realize that I, you and everyone is a part of a community that must commune – be one – so we could function and live better in a world where individuality is non-existent. We’re always looking and striving for the common good, what’s good for everybody and what’s good for the whole world…

We are living in a world of suckers. Almost all the people in this world are suckers. If they are not trying to be superman who will do everything to suck-out praises and affirmations, they will be the suckers of help and favor from the superman. In one way or another, one benefit from everyone… and this makes this world of suckers’ sucks!

When I was in grade 1, I was told that the basic unit of society is the family. I believed what my teacher had told me because if I wouldn’t, then I would have not been perfect in the exam where she asked what she had taught our class. When I was starting to learn things about this world, my sense of individuality was already lost. What I learned was my sense of family… and that I have to feel a sense of belongingness to a specific unit of society who will cater to my needs and will give support as I grow in this world. At a young age, I was taught to be a sucker from my family.

In school, I was trained to compete, to excel and to be a superman. I was of the superior and elite division in the community. I was taught to be a sucker of affirmations and praises by giving help and doing well to the suckers who are of the lower class. I tried to win every competition I entered so that I could establish my rank among the supermen. I was given lots of recognition, affirmation and praises until I became addicted to it. I became used to of being in the spotlight. I became a great sucker.

As a child, I grew up with a very loving family, supportive parents and individual-friendly environment. I was a churchgoer since I was still in my mother’s womb. I was indoctrinated with Christian thoughts and the “how to’s” to a Christian-living. It was there that my thoughts about myself as an individual were nurtured…

There is a God. There’s no doubt about it…. What God wants is for each individual to save themselves from eternal damnation by doing great things on while living on earth. The reward is an everlasting life in heaven… The way to salvation is the road less traveled, a very tricky and intricate path that very few people have chosen. It’s not easy to be saved for salvation is individual. Interceding from the Catholic saints will not help. Even Mary, the virgin cannot save you. Prayers can only do so much but it can’t save a person who is not praying… No matter how much money you give to the church, even if you create several foundations to help out the other suckers in this world, the condemned soul will always be a condemned soul. To truly believe in the Only Son and to live according to His will are the things that can ensure you a place in His place.

I do believe in Him… But am I living according to His will? Does He want me to be a sucker the way this world has taught me to be? If I am going to be helpful, kind and nice to all people, does that make me a good Christian? If instead, I will go to the mountains and devout all my time to Him, and I will not cause any harm or sin towards everyone, will it make me a better Christian? If I am going to be selfish and concentrate on my individual salvation, will that make me the best Christian?

Deep inside my heart, I know that God doesn’t want me to be a sucker, nor does he wanted anyone to be one. God created man… not men. If God wanted the people in this world to live as a collective institution, He should have created a horde of Adams and Eves to populate the earth. But He created a man, one person. Then He added a woman, another person into the picture and that started the chaos in man’s history. The downfall of man was when he was with another person… Man became imperfect when he shared his individuality with someone.

An individual, if all alone by him self, is perfect creature. He has all the faculties to live and survive, to be the best that he can be and to make his world a better place for him, and in turn for everyone. An individual who is focused to him self is a man who can do great things. An egotist for instance, is a prime example a great man. Someone who unselfishly loves his self is someone who will go beyond the boundaries, break the norms and barriers, cultivate and plant his self firmly into a firm ground, and make great things according to his own idea of what is great.

It took me so many heartbreaks and so many disappointments before I realized that I have to love myself above anything or anyone else.  I used to be so focused with everybody else’s needs and of what they have to say about me. I was so conscious on the comments that others would say on the things that I do or say. I was trying to please everybody to the point of neglecting the things that I really want. I have been into relationships and giving to my previous partners all that I can offer only to be left behind again and again just because I wasn’t enough for them. I have tried living for someone, making my life revolve around that someone, only to find out that there was also someone I was sharing my someone with. I have tried to focus on helping others, pleasing them so I could please myself, only to find out that at the end of everyday, I was still alone. I sacrificed myself, pawned my body to achieved greater heights and be able to help the people I cherished the most, only to find myself treated as trash and unappreciated.

There were so many nights when I would cry over what I had become all because I wasn’t happy anymore. I failed myself in pleasing all the people around me. I failed myself by pleasing all the people around me.

I guess I was innately an individualistic person… I remember several scenes from my childhood where I would go to the woods near the track oval at the back of the school in front of our house… There was this very big tree where I would sit between the two big roots that were protruding from the ground and think of nothing but my self and what I will become when I grow up. I would usually go there during siesta and I would sleep, being cradled by the roots of the big tree, feeling the soft grass underneath my body while the wind sang with the rustling leaves and chirping birds. I felt good I was alone. It was good to be alone.

When I entered the university, there was also a special tree that I go to near the Quezon Hall in UP. You have to walk arounf 25 steps from the road before you will come to this small tree with low lying leaves that blocks me from being seen by any people. It was there where I go to if I needed to be alone and be one with my self.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t want to become a superman and be sucker of other people’s approval and affirmations and I could have been a better person. Looking back, I became a second-rate creation because I lived according to what others have wanted me to become. I longed for their second-hand praises until I did not know how to praise or appreciate myself… because I didn’t know myself anymore. I was lost in a world of hypocrisy and deceit… until I lost myself.

My father taught me a lesson I could never forget… I was in my 3rd year in the University and for the second time, I was running as an independent candidate for the student council. I was an incumbent college councilor when I decided to run as the representative of our college to the University Student Council. My mom called me on my cellular phone asking me to go home to the province. When I was there, I found out that I was the reason why we were having a family meeting. It’s because my grades had declined while I was in my first year in the campus politics.

“What happened to you? We thought you’re doing fine! Why has your grades declined? What about our expectations? People from this whole town are expecting so much from you! What are we going to tell them if you won’t graduate with honors?”  These were the questions my parents bombarded me with… I was just sitting and silent. I was blankly staring on the floor. I curled my legs up until my knees were touching my chin. My eyes were starting to sting…

“Mom and dad sent you to Manila to study. They trusted you! What happened to your grades? Sometimes if I think of you, I think of myself as failure because I failed as the eldest child. What were you living with your life?  That was my eldest brother speaking. That made cry… and in between sobs, I told them…

Since I was young, I have been doing things for you. It’s only now that I am doing things for myself. I am fine. My grades might not be that high but I am passing. The things that I am doing now are the things that are making me happy. I don’t care about other people’s expectations because it’s not my fault if I don’t meet their expectations. They were the once who made and set those expectations… I am living a life, my own life. Whatever has become of me is not because of you. I chose to do the things that I knew would make me happy. But all I can assure you is I am okay!

Drama… Everyone was silent. Then my father spoke. “It’s good to know that you’re okay… all we really wanted to know was, why was there a sudden change? We just want to know your plans, where you are heading and the things that you want to do. These will not leave us guessing of what has become of you…”

The value of open and honest communication was what my father instilled in me that night. In respect to my individual being… the people around me just want to know, yes, just to know what has become of me so they will know how to deal with me. That night, I told them my plans while I was still in the university, I told them why. I told them all the things that had happened to me… and that’s it. My family accepted me and still remained as my strongest support group…

I am turning myself into an individual. I value myself as an individual. I am an individual. The basic unit of our society is the individual, not the family. If one individual succeeds in making himself the best that he can be, then we will have a society with the best individuals who are making up a best society. An individual who thinks of himself as himself will not venture into competition because it will do him no good. To compete is to suck out affirmations if you’re going to win. A complete individual has no concept of winning; he just wants to be the best that he can be.

An individual may need another individual in order to enhance their individuality. Man must encourage his fellow man to be a man of his own. If a man enters a relationship, he must maintain his individuality so he will not lose his self and merge with the other person. Marriage is not merging… it’s supposedly a ceremony to celebrate the testimony that two individuals can live harmoniously together as individuals.

To be in love is something that is inevitable an individual will experience. But to be in love is sometimes the common cause of the destruction on an individual’s concept of individuality. People usually falls in love with love and that they are willing to do everything, even sacrifice their own individuality just to prove their love. A man who is truly in love is someone who derives happiness with himself by just being in love. He does not derive pleasure from the things that his objection of affection does. He loves because he feels from deep within his heart and soul and not because of what that other person can do and makes him do.

Superman sucks because he’s making our world a world of suckers. Lois Lane was right when she wrote her Pulitzer-winning editorial on “Why the World Doesn’t Need Superman.”  We don’t need someone whom we can depend on because it creates a culture of dependency and that eliminates our ability to look towards ourselves when we need help. The world can exist with just me, you and every individual as long as each of us strives to be the best that we can be.

I don’t want to be a superman anymore. I would rather be me and just me. I may not be happy or content but that is the essence of my being as individual… that I will be in constant pursuit of happiness in fulfillment of my individuality. I don’t need to please people because they don’t need to please me too. I don’t need praises from others, affirmations or friendly nods just to satisfy my ego. I can satisfy myself. I’ve had my share in this world where human is defined on the things they do to others. What I want to do now is look at myself and see what I can do to make me a better me.

It’s 5 in the afternoon and I just got in at work. My shift today should have started at 12 noon but I filed a half-day leave because I had to pick my mom up at the Bayview Park Hotel in Roxas Boulevard since she doesn’t know her way around Metro Manila. After dropping her off at our apartment in Sta. Mesa, I stayed for about an hour while she and the maid went to the wet market. We have a small chat before I scooted out so I won’t be late for the second half of my work-day.

I am a mama’s boy… and I am proud of it! It’s not that my mom dictates all the things that I have to do or she has to know every move that I have to make. I was the one who associated my self to her. I was the one called my self a mama’s boy because my mom is the person I am closest to… in this whole wide world!

Growing up in an all-boy family could have been unimaginably chaotic should my parents weren’t as good as they are. Yup! We’re five boys, and I am the middle child. Rexford, the eldest, will be 31 in July this year, is a teacher in Wichita, Kansas. Reynante, the biggest, will be 29, also in July, is a project engineer for a construction company that specializes in insulated walls. I, Raymond, just turned 27 last week, is a defeatist, cynic and delusional. Richard, turned 23 last February, is a pastor who is currently based in Mindoro Island. The youngest, Regie Abel, turned 19 last February also, is an Internal Auditing major at the Far Eastern University.

I guess this was the very reason why I became a mama’s boy.

Both of my older brothers were achievers in their own rights. Rexford, has been a consistent honor student from Grade I until he graduated from High School. He attended the National Secondary Schools Press Conference at Naga in Bicol when he was in 4th year High School and competed with students from all over the country for Copy-reading and Headline Writing. He was ranked No. 6 in the Cagayan Valley Region and that was really something! Reynante on the other hand was an athlete. Given his big built, he was one of our province’s top throwing-events athlete during his time. And, he was the ever-friendly student, an officer of the CAT and the Student Body Organization President when he was in 4th year.

My dilemma when I was a kid was, how am I going to be noticed and be known if I have 2 brothers who were already locally making names for themselves and part of the popular groups of their batches? Will I be able to do the same if not surpass the things they have done?

I can clearly remember the day when I was announced as Top 1 of my Grade 1 class. I guess that was the start of it. I was jumping and running home to tell my mom and dad that I will receive the First Honors… But I was disappointed on the day I received that award… I heard people saying… “Of course, he’s Mrs. Sebastian’s son! What would you expect?”

Receiving the top honors of my class has nothing to do with having a mother like my mom! It was I who studied hard for the whole year. It was I who attended my classes. It was I who got the grades. Not my mom…

My mom was once a public school teacher and she worked her way up until she became the Principal of the only High School in our town. She’s a well-respected figure in our community; people really look up to her. Being a girl from the barrio who have succeeded and become the administrator of the local school, she was befriended by so many people, from the politicians to the richest families in our town, from the farmers to the housewives who are full-time mothers in their homes. Her name is one of the favorites to appear as a Principal Sponsor during weddings. Just her name commands a certain level of respect and influence. I knew then even when I was still young that she has a power…

But her power did not make me the top student. It was I who decided that if I want to be like my brothers or more, I have to do the things they have done or surpass their achievements. That was the only way for me to get the attention of my parents.

I, being the middle child, have learned the meaning of the word compromise at an early age. I couldn’t argue with my two older brothers because… they’re older. I couldn’t pick a fight with my two younger brothers because… they’re younger. I was taught to understand position, ranking, age and individual differences since I was young. Since I didn’t have an ally among my siblings, I turned to myself and made me someone that they can’t easily harm nor put down. I promised that I will become an achiever.

There were very few incidents during my basic education that I asked for help. Almost all my assignments and projects were diligently done so I could blame no one if I would get a low grade, but all the credit would be mine if I would do well. My projects were always the basis of standard in my classes. I created my own style of presenting my compilations. I designed my own projects. I invested more money than needed so I could come up with the most impressive outputs. When my classmates were using typewriters for their reports and compilations, I was already using computer. When they started using Moroccan folders (which I started), mine was book-bound. They would usually imitate my designs, my methods of coloring projects, the way I etch or sketch but I always found a new way to impress my teachers. By the time that they’re doing what I was doing, I was already declaring that as an old, passé and not-so-good style.

I was mean. I would engage my older brothers in a verbal war. My reasoning as a kid was something that my parents had not expected from me. I could easily coaxed people to do my bidding. I was a manipulator. Little did my classmates know that they were a part of my grand scheme to be someone that people could easily like and adore. Yet, I was amiable.

I knew my parents, especially my mom were proud of me… Since I was starting to make a name for myself even at an early age, I was a constant conversation topic when she’s with her friends. I got to meet the provincial officials, superintendent and supervisors of the Department of Education. I was a regular, though not always a winner, at a local radio quiz show, then was hosted by the current governor of our province.

I have done so much more than my brothers have done. Rexford attended the National Press Conference only once when he was in 4th year high school, because he was 6th place in the regional competition. I became the provincial champion in my field when I was in 3rd year, won two awards in the regional competition (2nd and 3rd) and that gave me the passport to go to Koronadal, South Cotabato. I won also when I was in 4th year. I was in that national competition twice. I might not be the athlete like my other brother Reynante but I was still a member of the school’s volleyball varsity. But I achieved something he wasn’t able to do. During the Cadet Officers’ Leadership Training held at the Isabela Colleges, wherein several schools sent their representatives to be trained as officers for the Citizens Army Training, I was the Top Individual Performer. I was given a big trophy that’s still being displayed in my mom’s office. It was the first time that it was from my school who grabbed that award. I bested all the other trainees from all the other different schools… That made me the Corps Commander of the CAT when I was in 4th Year, but I resigned…

I was still my mother’s son… But I never used the name of my mom when I introduce myself. I never told anyone that I was the principal’s son… because I didn’t to be identified as such. I was just Raymond… a mama’s boy.

People didn’t know that I have a very close and strong relationship with my mom. It even came to a point when my brothers were already jealous of me. She might have not declared it, but I knew and they knew that I was my mom’s favorite. Until now, I’m the only one among my brothers who hugs and kisses my mom even in public. There were nights that I would still sleep beside her. She’s the first person I turn to when I can’t face the things I am facing.

I have been proving myself to the world and to my family since I was a kid. By the time that I was already in the university, I have my mom’s trust. She supported me all the way… When I was running for the student council as an independent candidate, she willingly gave me the funds to support my candidacy. When I had to go to out-of-town trips for extra and co-curricular activities, she never complained on the amount of money I was asking. She usually sent my weekly allowance every Mondays but usually during Thursdays, I would need to call her to send me some more.

There was one incident in my life that made much me closer to my mom. That was when I was clinically depressed and she had to travel to Manila so she could talk to my psychiatrist. The shrink decided to confine me at the basement ward of Makati Medical Center after an unsuccessful suicide attempt… When we were in the Emergency Room, my mom was talking me out of my doctor’s decision. She said she doesn’t want to have a son who has a record of being confined as a psychiatric patient. She was willing to take a leave from work so she could be with me while I was going through my depression. She talked to the shrink and she was told of what I did that made the doctor decided to have me admitted to the psychiatric ward.  We went home… and when I was already in my room, she came and hugged me tight and there were tears in her eyes.

I was silently crying over nothing… or over everything that has been running in my mind. I felt I was at the lowest point of my life. She asked me what my problems were and why I was going through the things I was going through. I didn’t speak. But I showed her my legs. They were covered with scratches, some were fresh and some were already drying up. She cried more and hugged me tighter… she said “Of all my sons, not you… I will not be able bear if it’s you I am going to lose…”

And so I cried harder and I realized I have been too selfish. My mom who was giving all the support I needed was begging me to fight back for life because she needed me in her life. She affirmed that I have been once of her sources of joy and delight since I was a child and that she will always be there for me whatever it takes.

True enough… she saw me through my broken spirit and broken heart yet she never faltered in bringing me back to reality that there’s someone in this world who loves and cares for me unconditionally. She accepted all my faults, all my misgivings and openly declares she loves me. I told her my deepest secrets and she knew all the things I have been through. I let her know of my plans but she never interferes, all she does is listen and tells me to pray that I might be given guidance in making my decisions. We never failed to hug and I never failed to kiss her on the cheeks each time we see each other.

In my hometown, my name still rings familiar despite my absence sine I was in college because my mom never failed to make me opportunities to be known. I have been the favorite speaker during the Leadership-Training Workshops in her school, the high school where I graduated from. I was the guest speaker in that same school during their graduation in 2005. Last year, during our town fiesta, she asked me to be one of the judges during the town’s beauty contest, and I was the one who serenaded the candidates too! I have learned from friends that they came to watch the contest that night because they saw my name in the program. It’s like having a stage-mother as she’s trying to make a local celebrity… Well, she just asked me to go home this coming election so I will accompany her in her rounds as she will be the one supervising the elections in all the precincts in our small town.

The other night, when I was on my way to her hotel room because she asked me to stay there for the night, I was exchanging text messages with my ex-girlfriend, Carolyn who’s in Hawaii. She asked me to say hi to mom, if I’m comfortable with it… I said, “Of course! I’m very much comfortable with it…”  That was just a petty thing for me not let my mother know… as I have been telling my mom many things that I wasn’t comfortable telling her but I was able to. Mom asked me how Carol and I now and I honestly told her that we’re better now that how we were when we were in a relationship.

I am a mama’s boy and I am proud of it. After all, I am my mama’s son. There were times that my other brothers might have been jealous with the way my mom treats me but I’ve worked hard for the affection. And besides, she’s really trying to treat us equally and help us all in the best way she can as a mother. It’s like all my life; all I ever wanted was to get my mom’s (and my dad’s) approval of what I will become. I might not have been able to get their full approval but I got their full understating and support and that made me a bolder, better person.

It’s hard to accept that I am now in my late 20’s…. But whether I accept it or not, I turned 27 last April 24…

I already received several calls when the clock struck 12am last April 24… There were three missed calls from Darwin Laurencio, a friend from San Francisco. I wasn’t able to answer my phone then because I was showering the day’s heat off my body…

Since it was really, really hot that night, I decided to go to bed only in my black CK briefs. Since it was my birthday, I was toying with the idea of sleeping in my birthday suit by I suddenly felt bad about it. I dried my still wet hair with the pink fluffy towel that still smelt of a fabric conditioner. I turned off the light and went to bed, hugging a soft pillow, wishing it was someone lying beside me.

The phone rang again when I was about to sleep… It was Didith, my eldest brother’s wife-to-be who’s in Saudi Arabia. We talked for few minutes, and she said she already bought me a gift, my favorite perfume, Polo Blue by Ralph Lauren. Then several text messages came pouring in… That’s when I decided to turn my phone off so I could have a good night rest.

Since I was off from work, I slept till before noon. I actually planned on renewing my driver’s license which will expire that day but it was so damn hot outside so I decided to stay home. I received one text message from a Flower Shop, telling me that I have a gift and they were asking where I would like it to be delivered. My permanent address in Metro Manila is in Makati and since I was really planning on dropping by there, I asked them to deliver it at 6012 San Francisco St. Olympia Village, Makati City.

I took my time in taking a bath. The cold water felt good on my naked body. I wish I was in a deep pool… swimming under the stars. Alone. Yes, I wanted to be alone and feel myself as myself. I finally got out of the bathroom and went to change. I sprayed deodorant on my underarms before I put on a black Jockey bikini. All my briefs are black. I find them sexy… When I was already wearing my blue jeans, I decided to wear my red polo. It’s my birthday anyway… Then I sprayed Polo Blue on my wrist, nape and neck… It reminded me of someone and another one… I felt good.

I went to Starbucks at the ground floor of Insular Building at the corner of Ayala Avenue and Paseo de Roxas. I was waiting for my friend, Kimberly. Then we walked to Greenbelt, watched the movie Sunshine and ate a big bag of Cheetos and drowned those empty calories with a big tumbler of lemonade. After the movie, we decided to go on window shopping… I didn’t have enough money to buy me something, I only had a thousand pesos in my wallet and payday was 6 more days to go…

Someone called… the number was from Hawaii, I knew then who was calling. It was Carolyn… my ex-girlfriend whom I broke-up with around 4 years ago. We started communicating 10 days before my birthday when I was in Ilocos Sur, attending the annual National Convention of our church. We met at that same gathering 5 years ago, and it was our district who was hosting the event then. It was still the same perky voice whom I used to talk with for almost every night when we were in a relationship. I heard again that same sweet, almost innocent-sounding giggle I used to hear when I used to sang to her over the phone. Memories and emotions came flooding back. It was my birthday anyway. So I decided I’d rather feel happy about it than entertain the so many other thoughts that were trying to get hold of me.

From the mall, we went straight to Ambet’s place, my best friend. We were still in front of the gate when Mommy Rosa, came out and merrily greeted me happy birthday! She was saying someone sent you a gift! I knew it was flowers… but I was surprised to find a big basket of assorted fruits, with a grand flower arrangement with several blue balloons and ribbons. I read the card that came with it. I was really surprised! It was from Carolyn…

From my best friend’s house, we went straight to Makati Medical Center where Ate Luz, his sister, was confined I was with Mommy Rosa, Ambet, Anthony, Kimberly, and John-John. We stayed there for an hour before finally deciding to have dinner. We ended up celebrating my birthday at the Yellow Cab at the People Support Building. A 10-inch Manhattan Special pizza, Charlie Chan pasta and chicken wings were enough to suffice my rumbling stomach.

I received around a hundred text messages from family, relatives, old friends, and acquaintances, present and former officemates. 15 people called and others sent greetings through email… I felt good at the end of the day… but when I was already home, I couldn’t sleep. I played Text Twist until 5 in the morning, knowing that I had to report back to work at 12nn for another day at work…

All my life, I only had three birthday parties. The first was when I was 3 years old, second was when I was 21, which was also my college-graduation blow-out and third was my 24th, because that time, I could already afford to pay for my own party. At 27, I decided to have another celebration. It was going to be a one-time, big-time celebration where all my friends will be invited and those who can come shall come. 9pm, April 27, Friday… the chosen venue was Jailhouse Rock Café at Sct. Tobias, Timog Area, Quezon City. It’s the only bar where I hang-out… the owner, the staffs and hosts are already my friends, after 9-long years of going there.

My current boss, I call her BG Bello (short for Barbara Grace), drove us to the bar. I was with my co-supervisors Hazel Cabantog, Malou Sajorda, Frechie Macaraeg and Boyet Paraggua. With us is BG’s assistant, Allaine Reyes. We were too early, arriving at 8:30pm. However, we decided to have one round of drinks with San Mig Light, juices and iced teas… I ordered for dinner, and then I started to sing. Michael Bublé’s repertoires were the songs I sang first, since they require not much effort and they’re sensual to sing. The DJ also played Martin Nievera songs, then later on, Josh Groban’s. My officemates were somehow amazed that I could carry a tune… When the waiter were about to serve our dinner, our boss decided to leave since she has another party to attend to.

But in came Onie Maguad and Carla Villanueva. They were my former agents at Sykes Asia Inc. Well, Onie was also my trainee before he became my agent. Carla was my batch mate at work; she became my agent when I transferred to the Operations from the Training Department. She eventually followed me to the Help Desk Team. Then Lalaine Tenorio and Jill Obligacion arrived… they were my org-mates from UP and I have not seen them for seven years! I was so happy to see them. I couldn’t resist but hug them both… Next to arrive was Christopher Castillo, a programmer and a friend from a progressive all-bachelor group formed in 2001.

The ever-funny Francis Emmanuel Antiquera and the super-sexy Romilyn Metila arrived few minutes after. They’re my block-mates when I was in my first year at UP. I became really close to them because we were all English majors and took the same courses from time to time. Francis graduated as a Cum Laude and now teaches at the Miriam College – High School Department. Romilyn graduated as a Magna Cum Laude and teaches at the Poveda Learning School.

Another friend, Lawrence Patricio came with his friend Buboy but they stayed at a separate table at the back of the bar. Luis Phillip Santos came with a friend named Gaisler. Someone I befriended in the bus going to Ilocos Sur last April 12, a married salesman named Alexander Llaban was there too. They were seated in the table with Elmer Amoyan, Aileen Castro and Jo Lorence Escutin, friends I met at Boracay when I went there last year for a rest.

Kimberly arrived also after coming from a company party. My best friend Ambet arrived with his buddy Anthony and two more friends, Gary Diga and Eugene Caab. Two more officemates came, Ezon delos Santos and Jhiggz Geroza. My co-inmates at the Jailhouse Rock Café, Doc Kokoy Pasco, Raul Marquez and Clem Diwas were also there and the last to arrive was Kuya Tong Moreno who works with Sun Cellular.

There were more than 30 guests. It was a great night with great friends. One of my good friends, Jana Dangcalan was the hostess/stand up comedienne that night and she was loved by the people who came. Despite her pregnancy, she never failed to amaze her audience with her antics and Rated-PG jokes. It was good to be surrounded by people whom I was and I am with now. It was a night when my past and present merged just to celebrate my 27th year of existence.

The café manager, Mr. Robert Lao, waived the P30 entrance fee for all my guests plus he gave me 10% discount from the total bill. I was also given two bottles of wine as a give-away… The café staffs, Allan, Wendel, Ate Dory and Mike were truly accommodating as they never get tired in taking and delivering orders to the tables where my friends were seated.

At around 2am, I decided to call it a night at Jailhouse, because I and some of my friends transferred to Club One Heart, a bar managed by Froilan Remo, a good friend I have met during my college days. The food and drinks were in the house and we stayed for more than an hour before finally going home.

I was dead tired… I was thankful I was not dead yet. That night, I felt good to be alive…    

I tried to abandon writing… but writing is like God. When it chooses you, it will linger and will not let you go until you give in and write again. If you were chosen by God, no matter what you do, He will stay and always be with you…

Usually, it’s strong emotion that drives me to write. I want to capture in words the things that I feel at a particular moment. But when the feelings are gone, I erased whatever I have written because they have already served their purpose. During the past few months, I may not have been writing anything that was published in my blog-sites but I have written lots that are now in my recycle bin. And still, I will not let them be read by anyone.

My emotions are my emotions. My feelings are my feelings… Does it matter to others if I let them know what I feel? I have felt so many different emotions towards something or someone, but did it matter when I told them or not whatever I was feeling for them? What mattered was, these emotions were real. I have felt them and they have become a part of me. Some vanished after some fleeting moments but some stayed and were still in me. If I am to define myself now, my emotions are what will comprise the most of who I am…

I have always been told that I have a good memory. I recited my first multi-stanza poem when I was 5 years old. It was a poem about a book that my teacher made me memorize for a school program. I have memorized several pieces for storytelling competitions, declamation, speech choir and, oration when I was in elementary. On top of that, I was made to study Science and History books by my Science and History teachers because I was my school’s perennial representative to quiz-bees. But I didn’t memorize facts… I didn’t memorize the words written in books. What I remember are emotions. I remember because of my emotions. I remember because I of what I felt…

When I was a kid, my mom said that I was such a cry-baby. I would cry if she wouldn’t respond to my questions. I would wail if she would leave me alone at home, thus, she always had to bring to work. I would cry for anything that she won’t do and can’t give. I would cry if I lose in a game… but those uncountable crying episodes when I was child developed the connection between my brain and heart so I would be able to feel more than the empirical. I could feel people and their souls… thus, I know if the people around me are good-hearted or not. I could feel their intentions, their wants and their personalities. I remember them because of certain emotions I felt for them.

Yes… I remember emotions. I remember specific people and dates because of emotions. I remember the exact scenes in my past because of what I felt when those scenes happened. I can picture vividly every moments in my past that evoked remarkable feelings…. I can remember because I can feel.

I remember the day when I celebrated my 3rd birthday… That’s my earliest childhood memory. I remember how our house was set-up, the faces of the relatives who attended. How my cousins from Eddie and Edgar were dressed alike with brown shorts and white collared shirts with brown stripes. I was wearing sky-blue shorts, a sky-blue shirt and a white Mighty Kid shoes. My hair was combed flat. I remember that I was the center of the gathering. I loved it.

I remember when my brother next to me, Richard, was born. I was four years old and that was the last day that I was the youngest. I didn’t know what I felt but I knew I was not happy. As I was being mocked by my older cousins, it was instilled to me that it was Richard who stole my position in the family. I promised to myself that I will win back all the attention I was used to of getting. I went to our backyard and climb a mango tree. Nobody saw me cried.

I remember the days when I was in elementary school… I was always at the top of my class but I was not always a teacher’s favorite. No one came close to my grades because I vowed that I will remain on top. I remember the feeling of superiority over my classmates who knew less when I was perfect in almost all my exams. They could hardly read when I won in a reading competition in our district. They were struggling in spelling when I was the representative of our district in the provincial level of Spelling Bee. They could hardly write a paragraph in English when I was already competing and winning essay writing competitions. My projects were being displayed in our bulletin boards. I was exempted in our final exams in Science because I was the first student from our school to win in a Quiz Bee at the Area Level (8 municipalities). I graduated as valedictorian. But I was not happy.

On the day of our graduation, I walked to the community center because my dad was busy driving around my mom who was preparing for the graduation in her school in the afternoon. She’s the principal of the only high school in our town. The program started without them… It was our class-adviser who walked with me during the processional. Even if I was the very first to go in the hall since I was the best among all the graduates, I was not satisfied. My parents weren’t there to be with me while I walk proudly because I have achieved and worked hard for that position in front of the line. They arrived late. I was already teary-eyed when I delivered my Valedictory address. I can still memorize that speech I delivered until today… because I delivered with a feeling of defeat while I was standing in front of a crowd, thinking that I was a winner.

To know what section you will be in during your first year in high school, the local secondary school, where my mom was the principal, conducted a test to rank all the incoming freshmen. I was the first person they called in front of the hopeful crowd of freshmen when they announced the results. 40 were chosen to be in the star-section. These include all the honor students from all the other elementary schools in our town.

I marked my territory right from the very start… the top place is mine. All the others should only compete for the next rank behind me. At first year, I was already an officer of several school clubs and organizations. I was with the student council and the Features Editor of our school paper. During the selection process for our school’s representative to the Provincial Quiz Bee, top 5 students were chosen from each year level. The first place went to the 4th year student, Maria Isabel Aguinaldo who was the second in her class. I grabbed the 2nd place. The 3rd place went to another 4th year student, Romina Martinez, that school year’s valedictorian. I competed in the annual Provincial Secondary Schools Press Conference. In the Features Writing – English Category, I was the 6th place out of more than 80 contestants, giving me my right to compete at the regional level. When I was in 4th year high school, I have already established a name for my self. I was not just the principal’s son, but I was Raymond Sebastian, the achiever.

My teachers were delighted to coach me during academic contests because I was always a part of the winning circle. I was at a national competition twice, for Feature Writing and Photojournalism in English, Editorial Writing in Filipino. I was the alternate contestant for the Super Quiz Bee, Regional Level. I was able to remain among the top 3 in our province in every contest that I join. I was so full of what I could do. I felt invincible until God thought me a lesson. My emotional high came to an abrupt end when I was about to graduate from high school. In the end, I was just a simple student, not even on the top ten of the graduating class. And I was humbled…

But it was then when I have felt a true peace. I was at peace with God, with my self and with all the people me around despite being in a hostile environment. I found through happiness through talking to God in almost every hour of every day. If I have a basis for happiness, it would be the time when I couldn’t care less about the world and all I was thinking was my relationship with God.

Until I entered college…

University of the Philippines in Diliman is the country’s premier state university. I was so lucky to get in, as I was the first graduate of my high school to study there. I remember the very first moment I was entering the campus and saw the sign with the name of the school I was going to enroll in. It was euphoric yet I was full of apprehensions. The cab ride along University Avenue made me realize that I will be on my own in this road from then on. I can remember the exact place in front of Quezon Hall where we get off the cab. I was with Tita Anna Paruggua, a distant relative and a teacher in the school where I came from. I saw the Oblation for the very first time. I saw the statue of a man who was in total negligence of the world and himself in full offering to the one he’s looking up to.

I remember walking in the amphitheater then in the lagoon, going to the Registrar’s office. I remember my first ride of IKOT jeep in the campus. I paid P1.25 only. I remember that I was afraid I will not be accepted in the school because my x-ray results when I was in the Infirmary showed that I had a pleural effusion. I remember the first time I walked in front of the main library. I was excited. I was afraid.

I survived my years in the University because of three things. I never lost my faith despite the so many things I did to expand my horizons. I was loved, guided and assisted by my parents throughout those years despite my stubbornness and inadequacies. And I was with friends…

Friends… Feelings… Emotional investments. Catherine Mendoza, Golda Ore, Mariquit Musñgi, Pamela Bacani, Jennifer Joy Balangue, and Raymond Palatino… these are the names of the people who were my second family when I was in the university. We were together for almost everyday. I feel for them… I can still feel the comfort each of them provided me. I could have not made it through until now without them.

There were others… Krishna Morota, Lalaine Tenorio, Jill Obligacion, Edizon Fermin, Flor Edulan, Joanne Sarmiento, Francis Antiquera, and Romilyn Metila…

Very few indeed as they were the only few that I will always remember…

I am writing now because I am feeling thankful to what I have become. I am feeling good because somehow, I have survived 27 years in the face of the earth and I have so many to be thankful about and so many to thank.

Memories are plenty. Emotions abound. Friends are few. God loves me.

After my check-up with my cardiologist last Monday, he ruled out that my
dizziness has something to do with the low and medium frequency premature ventricular complexes in my heartbeat… Great! Now what were those damn, unruly crooked lines in my ECG if they have nothing to do with my frequent dizziness and headache? I have another thing to worry… aside from my heart, now I have my head.

I was recommended to go through two more procedures to find-out what’s wrong with me and also to know the cause of the swaying and swinging world I usually see several times a day. I went to the same hospital yesterday to have me scheduled for Transcranial Doppler and Carotid Duplex, and I don’t know what on earth are these but all I know is they have something to do with looking into my head. Apparently, I am not the only being suspected with a damaged brain, there were several people listed in the schedule and the earliest that I can be accommodated was Tuesday, Dec. 5. Damn! Now I have to live within my world where swaying buildings and swinging floors are normal, because until then, the doctors don’t really know what to do with me.

When I was at the hospital last week, I was CT-scanned but I really dont know until now what was the result. I assume that it was okay because the neurologist looking after me didn’t really bother coming back to my hospital-room to explain whatever was seen in the CT-Scan. There I was again… assuming. As if I am reading Thomas Harris’ Silence of the Lambs again saying… “You don’t ASSUME because you’re making and ASS out of U and ME.” But then again, who cares about making asses when my head feels like that it’s stuck in one.

Exactly 2 years ago, around the same month (November)… there was really
something wrong with my head. I was taking medications because of the chemical imbalances in my brain that caused me to have a severe clinical depression. Every week, I was paying around P3000 to a shrink just to listen me mumble, grunt and rant about how bad I was and how unfair life was. What frustrates me, now if I think about it was, all the things that bitch-of-a-shrink told me while we were having counseling-sessions were things I already knew, heard from someone or read from somewhere! And to think that she even had the nerve to refer me to another hospital so I’d be confined in a psychiatric ward! That was the craziest thing I ever did in my life… to be crazy and let someone knew I was!

As of now, I dont know which one is better… to have a physical pain in the
head or to have an unimperical sickness within the head. Then, I was staying at home for almost all the time. Now, I have to report to work even if going to work is already an effort. Then, people were laughing at me. Now, most are trying to make me laugh. Then, it’s my thinking that’s making my head ache. Now, it’s the aching that’s making my head to think. Then, I was crazy. Now, I am crazier

TheAfter my check-up with my cardiologist last Monday, he ruled out that my
dizziness has something to do with the low and medium frequency premature ventricular complexes in my heartbeat… Great! Now what were those damn, unruly crooked lines in my ECG if they have nothing to do with my frequent dizziness and headache? I have another thing to worry… aside from my heart, now I have my head.

I was recommended to go through two more procedures to find-out what’s wrong with me and also to know the cause of the swaying and swinging world I usually see several times a day. I went to the same hospital yesterday to have me scheduled for Transcranial Doppler and Carotid Duplex, and I don’t know what on earth are these but all I know is they have something to do with looking into my head. Apparently, I am not the only being suspected with a damaged brain, there were several people listed in the schedule and the earliest that I can be accommodated was Tuesday, Dec. 5. Damn! Now I have to live within my world where swaying buildings and swinging floors are normal, because until then, the doctors don’t really know what to do with me.

When I was at the hospital last week, I was CT-scanned but I really dont know until now what was the result. I assume that it was okay because the neurologist looking after me didn’t really bother coming back to my hospital-room to explain whatever was seen in the CT-Scan. There I was again… assuming. As if I am reading Thomas Harris’ Silence of the Lambs again saying… “You don’t ASSUME because you’re making and ASS out of U and ME.” But then again, who cares about making asses when my head feels like that it’s stuck in one.

Exactly 2 years ago, around the same month (November)… there was really
something wrong with my head. I was taking medications because of the chemical imbalances in my brain that caused me to have a severe clinical depression. Every week, I was paying around P3000 to a shrink just to listen me mumble, grunt and rant about how bad I was and how unfair life was. What frustrates me, now if I think about it was, all the things that bitch-of-a-shrink told me while we were having counseling-sessions were things I already knew, heard from someone or read from somewhere! And to think that she even had the nerve to refer me to another hospital so I’d be confined in a psychiatric ward! That was the craziest thing I ever did in my life… to be crazy and let someone knew I was!

As of now, I dont know which one is better… to have a physical pain in the
head or to have an unimperical sickness within the head. Then, I was staying at home for almost all the time. Now, I have to report to work even if going to work is already an effort. Then, people were laughing at me. Now, most are trying to make me laugh. Then, it’s my thinking that’s making my head ache. Now, it’s the aching that’s making my head to think. Then, I was crazy. Now, I am crazier

Then, somehow, I was able to conquer my head… and that was good. I felt good when I knew I was on the right path of straightening up the curls in my brain. The idea that the white organ inside my skull was still filled with functioning neurons, instead of hardened fats made me feel that life was still worth living. The chemical imbalance in my brain made my life comical and I chose to not forget those episodes of wailing, leg-scratching, crying without tears, driving around with no destination, smoking almost 2 packs of cigarette a day,drinking Bailey’s on the rocks before going to bed, watching DVD’s until my eyes were sore and not taking a bath for 4 straight days!

Then, I was crazy. Now, I am crazier. All because I’d rather be crazy and
make up most of the sickness and illness I am feeling than being really sick and not knowing what’s making you sick or what is your sickness…

Aaaaah! My head! This damn head is sick. This damn head is making me sick!

We met at Teriyaki Boy along T. Morato at around 12:40 pm, though we agreed to meet at 12:30. I  was late… though my pad was just few blocks away. Damn me… because I was so keen in keeping my social obligations, I went and dropped by at Gerardo’s near ABS-CBN to meet my co-trainees at the company I just transferred to 3 weeks ago. If I only ignored their proddings, I could have been at our meeting place on time. Anyway, he only waited for about 5 minutes.

Mong is Raymond de Vera Palatino. He’s my college male-bestfriend. I have to use male prior to the word bestfriend because I have several bestfriends in college and most of them are females. We’re namesakes, he was named after St. Raymond who’s feast day falls on his birthday, December 19 while I was named at random with any name that starts with letter R just because my two older siblings were named Rexford and Reynante. My two younger brothers were named Richard and Regie Abel just for the consistency of our initials. Mong is four months older than I am but I look four years older than he is. We were blockmates at UP College of Education, exactly a decade ago. And after 10 long years, I am glad we’re still friends.

Last night, after taking the weekly assessment at the training class I am attending at RMH-NCO (in which, I got a perfect score), I got a text message from my youngest brother, Regie Abel asking me to research for three titles of speeches delivered by the famous Patricia Evangelista plus a two-statement critic for each. I went to Google.com, but unfortunately, I was able to locate only one speech delivered by Pat and that was her winning piece in London several years ago. I tried several key words for my search but I only got to the sites of her column in Philippine Daily Inquirer. I tried on clicking some links and by accident (or by fate), I was directed to the blog-site of Mong (www.mongpalatino.motime.com)!

I read some of his posts. I browsed on the different links to his site. Then I realized how I miss this guy. The last time I saw him was August of 2005 when I attended his daughter, Renee’s christening because I was one of the godparents. I texted him just to tell him that I came across his blog-site, that I miss him and asked if we could meet up soon. He texted back with a confirmation. I asked where and when, he suggested dinner tomorrow (which is today) at Quezon City area. I said I can’t because I have a dinner at 7pm with my Sykes-Carnival Cruise Lines colleagues in Makati. He suggested lunch at T. Morato and named few restaurants. I okayed with Teriyaki Boy for 12:30.

Mong is still the same Mong… ever consistent with who he was when we were still in UP. An active member of STAND-UP, an alliance of active revolutionist organizations, he became our College Representative to the University Student Council (USC) in 1998-1999, Chairperson of the UP College of Education Student Council in 1999-2000 and the Chairperson on USC in 2000-2001. He was elected as National President of the National Union of Students in the Philippines in 2001. Emily Vital of Bulatlat (www.bulatlat.com/news/4-27/4-27-mong.html) said “Mong was also one of the convenors of different broad youth formations, including Estrada Resign Youth Movement, Youth Action Network, Filipino Youth for Peace, Kabataan Kontra-Kartel (Youth Against Oil Cartel), and TxtPower.” With all these, he was chosen as a recipient of an award given by the United Nations Association in the Philippines during the International Youth Day in 2004.

Funny… I was once his guest in a radio-program he was co-hosting wherein we talked about the call center industry.

On the personal level, Mong was like a brother to me when we were in UP Eduk. We were not really that close when we were in our first year. We just started hanging out when we were classmates in Hum II under Prof. Joey Valenciano, Summer of 1997. That was the time when I started writing morbid verses and poems that he deligently read and critiqued everyday. On our second year, we were classmates in EDSSE120, where we both got a grade of 1.00! He also tagged me along to join Educators’ Circle, all because of the free lunch that they were offering to the member-applicants during orientation. At the end of every semester, he would ask me to list all my term papers and other requirements and would bug me to finish them on time. One time, he was kind enough to offer me an overnight stay in his place so I could use his computer (or typewriter, I dont really remember),  just to finish my papers. In return, I toured him around Isabela during the semestral break of that year.

He was there when I cried because of my first real heartbreak. He said, “Umiyak ka na nang umiyak habang nandito ka pa sa Manila. Maawa ka sa magulang mo, pag-uwi mo sa inyo, huwag mong ipakita na ganyan ka.”

We only clashed once… during the time that he was running for College Council Chairperson and I was up for the College Representative position. He was running under an activist party while I was an independent candidate. During the miting-de-avance, even if we were running for two different positions, he was the one rebutting my statements in defense of his partymate who was running against me. We didn’t talk for the remainder of the campaign period. We both won. We became friends again. And after that, I realized that above ideologies, I would rather have Mong on my side…

He was one of the few who believed I have a talent in writing. He used to urge me to write. After reading his blog entries last night, I have decided to express my thoughts again through writing. I tried writing blogs at Friendster (www.friendster.com/monsebastian) but I stopped when I thought the world wasn’t giving me much time to write. During our lunch date, he urged me to write again… he even recommended www.wordpress.com for me to create my blog-site.

So I am here now… after my lunch date with Mong.