One big sigh

Whew. My work is done! Ladidadida. Hihihi. Haha, I sound like a nut.

Merry Christmas!

Easy like a Sunday afternoon

Last Sunday we drove to KidzWorld in Dasmarinas, Cavite. A friend of ours helped organize a Christmas party for orphans called Save a Tree, Brighten Up a Day. We were to be "foster parents" for the event.

Mark, Len, Edison and I met up with Armand, Becca and their friends and officemates in Alabang. We pigged out at Total while waiting, and then I spotted this:

I love it! Love it love it love it. It's the exact color I would've used on our own Volkswagen if it had been given to me. Papa promised that it would be mine once he's had the chance to restore it. But alas, our old, beautiful Beetle is now rotting in some talyer, completely destroyed and unfit for use. Pure neglect. Heartbreaking. :(

I digress. We left Alabang two hours behind schedule and arrived in Cavite wary of the ominous clouds and steady drizzle.

Len looked flustered at first because she was paired with a boy, instead of a girl as we had been told. We told her not to worry, most of the gifts Mark bought were unisex anyway - good job bebe!

My foster child was an 11-year-old girl named Roxane, who said she doesn't like watching pre-teens gyrating to the tune of My Humps (good girl!) and loves to have her photos taken with her friends and ka-loveteam (huh?).

In fact, they all wanted their photos taken. Our group of children and ates and kuyas were positively disruptive, taking funny pictures, being noisy and not minding the dance number on the stage (yes, the gyrating pre-teens). I won't be surprised if the organizers ban us from next year's party.

The priest's sermon about the eagle and chicken somehow left the children confused, because when the emcee asked them after the Mass, "Ano'ng sabi ni Father, sino ang darating sa December 25?" most of them screamed, "si Santa Claus!" while others said "yung agila!" Hahaha, lost in translation perhaps?

Anyway, between that and the magic tricks, dancing, loads of picture-taking and Faith Cuneta singing Langit Ka, Lupa Ako (for the life of me I don't know the title of that song), we did have a lot of fun. It was one afternoon away from the toxicity and boredom of daily life, and into the world of smiles, honesty and hope.

It kind of makes me wonder though if maybe we had more fun than the children had. That one afternoon made us feel good, and slightly above our normal selves; it benefited us more than it did the kids, who probably have had numerous "foster parents" before. Why would we be any different? I pray they don't get cynical and think of our presence as a fleeting thing, one among many others that they have grown accustomed to but have made little impact on their lives. Because we don't want to be like that - cosmetic, temporary facelifts to a deep-seated problem. I'll be the first to admit that one afternoon of partying and giving gifts can't do that. Heck, not even an entire summer spent in the mountains with a community can help alleviate their situation.

My only consolation is that these little acts, when strung together, might make a difference. Moreover, each is a learning experience that musn't be taken for granted and that should lead to something more meaningful and sustainable. Otherwise, it's a futile, one-sided exercise.

On another note, driving home from Dasma was friggin scary, man. I thought Metro Manila would spared from Supertyphoon Seniang , but we caught part of its tail. It was raining nonstop that afternoon and well into the evening. It wasn't pa-cute rain either. We had to be extra alert because of poor visibility - Absolutely no streetlights! In the pouring rain!! What's that about? - and the occasional mini-tsunamis created by buses zooming past our helpless little sedan on those flooded roads. Plus I had to keep wiping the windshield because it was fogging like crazy. Very stressful. Good thing I don't have a license yet. We got home around 11pm, and didn't go to work the next day. Yeehaa.

***

This Sunday we'll be participating in a Gawad Kalinga Build in Quezon City. Those who are interested, please contact me.

La lang

I read somewhere that nuclear power needn't be dangerous, as long as you use thorium instead of uranium. This way you won't be able to create plutonium (a byproduct of uranium), the material used for nuclear weapons. Thorium is much more abundant, and can even consume plutonium and uranium through its tested technologies, nipping in the bud any threat. Of course you can't tell that to countries who wanted, and probably still want the plutonium. Neither can you convince the rest of the world, who have developed an almost irreversible fear of anything nuclear. And so the fear persists.

wounded

I like picking my skin. Scratching it. rolling my fingers over it to discover the tiny bumps, the imminent zits, the uneven skin - hell, whatever I can find. When I sense something unusual, I attack immediately. I am relentless, possessed by the uncontrollable urge to take it out, to break through the skin, cut it, scar it, wound myself. When the wound begins to heal, I touch it again, again and again, until I realize that I've wounded myself once more, on that very same spot. It happens everytime, to many spots, such that no wound completely heals, and I am eternally scarred.

I don't know why I like it. It's certainly not pretty. It's quite disgusting, actually. But I can't help myself. I look at the imperfections on my face, my body, everywhere...and I just want to erase them all from my sight. Right. Now. No waiting for medication, no desire to clean my hand, no caution or care for the consequences I already know by heart. Right now it's just me and my skin, battling it out.

So here's what I've learned: I hate pain, except when it's self-inflicted. Then it becomes this twisted story of purging that I seem to enjoy. True, it's not a very healthy way of dealing with one's flaws. Especially when one is actively seeking them out, searching for every little mistake in the tiniest crevices. And then plowing through in the most unforgiving and painful way.

But so far this is it. This is how I treat myself. This is how I hate myself.