"Micro" blogging

I blog with my cellphone.

You read that right. More than half of the posts you see here, including the tweaking of the layout and template, were all done on my 6.3" phone.

If my eyesight goes pffftt and I end up with a serious case of ulnar deformity, you know why.

I no longer remember when we got rid of the desktop computer we had at home but I know why we had to let it go: it takes up so much space.

I also retired the second-hand laptop I bought years ago from a guy who was in desperate need of money to pay off his casino debt. That unit, however unreliable and super slow, was the one I used during my active blogging years. I had a love-hate relationship (mostly hate) with it.

For a while, I’ve been using my older brother’s, a slight upgrade from mine, but it also has gotten so slow over time that mere boot-up can take more or less ten minutes. By the time it’s ready, I’ve already lost my momentum and would rather go to sleep.

If not for the reason that I’m back blogging, getting a new laptop wouldn’t even cross my mind. I’m the biggest scrooge and was never the type to buy electronic gadgets on a whim.

But with my Bratwurst fingers and failing eyesight, blogging using my cellphone is no joke.

I would like to have the freedom of writing anywhere I want, when I want it, and I can only get that ease from the portability of a notebook computer.

I still write better when I use a physical keyboard because I can easily spot the errors on my grammar and usage (so if you see one, a little understanding please). Not to mention that I’ve always been a fast typist (averaging 65 WPM) so I finish quicker.

So yeah, I’ve been thinking of investing on one that’s lightweight enough to carry inside a tote. I could work on anywhere between 11-14 inches and no heavier than 3 pounds. Please don’t make me come back to the bulky ones like my old laptop which could be deadly if I strike someone with it. Well, I think they don’t make the thick ones anymore—the ones with equally thick cables and adaptors—unless you bought a refurbished, right?

I’ve been looking at units both online and at stores and I have seen some I like and that are pretty okay price-wise (Budget is a consideration for me so, no, unless I won the lottery or a filthy rich person reading this took pity and sponsors me one—Apple MacBook is out of the equation.)

Then again, I’m a total ignoramus when it comes to specifications so that’s another hurdle. I don’t even know what Windows version is now. I don’t know how much storage and RAM to consider and which of all those brands promise good battery life.

Frankly, I don’t know any of this stuff anymore and most of the time it only leaves me stumped and more confused. I just want to put an end to my blogging misery, people. I mean, c’mon—just look at the picture and tell me why I shouldn’t get one.

Because when I said micro-blogging, I meant that literally.

Any sponsors suggestions? 

He came for him

Three weeks shy of my daddy’s 1st Death Anniversary on the 29th of this month, his older brother passed away yesterday morning.

Tito Cesar or “Tatay Diko” to us, is the second from the eldest of eight boys. “Diko”, which is an appellation for the second elder brother (next to “kuya”), died peacefully in his sleep. With his passing, there are only four of the De Leon brothers left.

The first one to go was the third brother, Tatay Tony, who died in September of 2000. He was followed by the eldest, Tiyong Ben, in 2002. Almost two decades later, my father passed away last year.

Tatay Diko spent his twilight years similar to how my father did with his—sitting on the front porch by the gate watching people. Both of them were like a permanent fixture of Tramo street, that when you type in our home address in Google Street View before, you will see them at the very spot (their faces blurred though) on the satellite image.

However, this was not the only reason a lot of people knew them, as all eight brothers were born and raised in the same place. Suffice to say, they were there all their lives that they’ve seen people come and go and witnessed how the neighborhood changed over the years. I guess this made them proud in a way, having an excessively high opinion of themselves (a trait which I think all of the brothers possess in varying levels), thinking they are far better than the people around them.

I was not close to Tatay Diko and for whatever unspoken reason why’s that, I didn’t bother knowing anymore. I don’t even remember the last time we talked except indirectly when I tell my nephews to say hello or goodbye to him when we go out and had to pass by the gate.

God knows my oft-misunderstood behavior around him was more out of respect rather than disregard and contempt. I may be distant and seemingly indifferent, but this doesn’t mean I don’t worry about him because I do, especially when he started showing signs of cognitive decline and senility many years ago.

That wasn’t how I remember Tatay Diko growing up. He was the uncle who lifts weights, boxes and does push-ups every morning. The one who doesn’t smoke (unlike most of his brothers) and tells really corny jokes. Tatay Diko was also my go-to person when I needed a slogan every poster-making contests in grade school. He’s an intelligent man who reads broadsheets and devours English crossword puzzles (and the only one who can challenge him when it comes to that was my dad—who was equally bright). To his many grandchildren and great-grandchildren, he’s Tatay Pogi.

But perhaps aging gets the best of anyone that it can later turn one grumpy and irritable. That after some time the funny person you once knew would be gone and replaced by someone who huffs at the slightest annoyance and fumbles. I witnessed this with my own father in his later years, how his personality and mood shifted for the worse after his first stroke.

When my dad died, it was no surprise that Tatay Diko took it really hard. After all, the two of them almost have the same daily routine: Sit by the gate and watch people all morning, go inside before lunchtime when it gets unbearably hot, then come back and sit there until sunset. My mom and Nanay Babes (Tatay Diko’s wife) never understood why they spend their days like this but can’t do anything to stop them. Later on, they’ve probably resigned to the fact that it was already their way of life so they let them be.

Weakened by his age, he only managed to go to the funeral but wasn’t able to come to daddy’s cremation. As it was a custom, the funeral procession had to pass by the house one last time. From the vehicle where we’re at, I saw Tatay Diko, sitting on the same spot, looking on as the hearse carrying daddy’s remains pass right in front of him. Whatever his thoughts are that very moment, no one will ever know, and perhaps would only be between him and my daddy. It was heart-wrenching seeing him sitting alone to where they were usually together.

Days following my father’s death, Nanay Babes and Kuya Chiqui, his son, would find Tatay Diko quiet and alone in his thoughts, sometimes would even have trouble sleeping. There is no need for him to say it, we all knew that it was his way of processing his grief.

When I got home from work last Monday a little after three in the afternoon, I saw Tatay Diko on the same spot I see him every single day. He was sitting on a monoblock chair, leaning on the wall, with a half-filled plastic cup of gulaman beside him.

The first thing that ran through my head was, how can he bear this heat? It was particularly warmer that afternoon and I myself was sweating bullets coming home from a short commute. But as I would have it every day, I passed by him with only that thought in my mind.

My mom, who’s always been concerned of Tatay Diko (she says he reminds him so much of daddy), asked me if Tatay was there and if something was amiss. I told her exactly what I saw, and I even said (more like asked) why he was even staying outside when it was so hot. When I think about it now, I can’t even recall if his eyes were closed or not, if he showed any signs of difficulty whatsoever, because I always walk with my head down every time I enter the gate.

The following morning, Nanay Babes found him unresponsive in his sleep and was declared DOA shortly after.

***
It was only after that they told us the pancit incident that happened last Sunday.

There was a children’s party just right across the street and Tatay Diko was given a plate of pancit. There were two versions of the story I heard—one was when the neighbor gave him the plate, Tatay Diko left it somewhere. When he was asked where the food was, he answered: “Binigay ko kay Luis.” (I gave it to Luis).

They asked him: “Sino’ng Luis?” (Luis who?)

Tatay Diko answered: “Si Luis! Kapatid ko!” (Luis! My brother!)

Another version was Tatay Diko was offering the pancit to his other brothers who were also there at the time, but when they refused, Tatay Diko said, “Ayaw din ni Luis eh.” (Luis doesn’t want to take it too.)

I don’t know which among these versions was accurate and did actually happened, or if some of the details had been changed as it gets told over and over, but there’s no doubt about one thing: Luis, my father, was there.

Most Filipinos believed in this superstition called “sundo” (to fetch, when translated in English), a belief in which when a family member or a friend who’s already dead shows himself up to another, would mean that he was there to accompany the person to the ‘other side’.

We believed that last Sunday when Tatay Diko kept mentioning daddy, that maybe he was really there about to fetch Tatay Diko.

That he came for him.

Death they say should be viewed as a natural thing and that it shouldn’t be something we fear. But I think it’s not really death that scares most of us, but more of the fear of the unknown. Where do we go? What comes after all of this? Will we see our loved ones who passed on?

Watching shows like “Hollywood Medium” and “The Last Goodbye” convinced me that there’s still life beyond what we know and that all those who died are still with us. It makes you less scared when it’s your time to go.

There is some comfort in thinking that the two of them are together now. And as how my friend said it on his comment: The siblings are chillin’.

RIP, Tatay Diko.

Sometimes it gets tough

Photo by Patrick Hendry

I can tell you so many reasons why, even at my age, I’m just okay being single. I genuinely enjoy the freedom that comes with it and how it could be very empowering to be a lone wolf at times. Besides, I’d choose to be single than be in a toxic, subpar relationship.

I’m sure you have read about many articles on the perks of being single so I won’t add any to that anymore. Also, coming from me, writing about that would sound a little 'on the defensive'.

While I made up my rather delusional mind that if it isn’t going to be Chris Evans then I’d rather not, I’d be lying through my teeth if I say that everything about being single is perfect and blissful because it isn’t. I admit there are tougher days when I wish I was in a relationship. I hope that acknowledging this though doesn’t make me an emotional weakling but more of just me being human wanting affection and longing for love like everyone else.

The truth is, no matter how strong you are, there is only so much that you can get by on your own. There are some emotional needs that even the closest family and most loyal of friends just can’t fill. Let me tell you some of the (very rare) times when I wished I wasn’t single.

Having dinner with friends 

I was never envious of friends that are in a relationship but sometimes having catch-up dinner with them always makes me feel a bit lonely after. My friends and I (we call ourselves Cuatro Amigas) make it a point to meet up maybe once or twice a year (no husbands and boyfriends allowed) and it’s one of my favorite times of the year that I look forward to.

But what they don’t know is that when it’s time to call it a night, and that they’d either be picked-up or would have someone home waiting for them, it makes me sad as I don’t have that. I tell you, even if self-pity was never my style, nothing else could be more perfect for a scene of Celine Dion’s “All by Myself” music video than getting a taxi ride home late at night. It’s definitely one of those times I’d go, bakit ba ako nag-iisa?

When I was hospitalized 

I don’t want to sound ungrateful to family and relatives who were in the hospital the very few times I was there, but it was then when I realized being in a relationship with someone that moment would make a lot of difference.

When I had my surgery and we were all worried about so many things including the medical bills, I remember telling my cousin that I wish I had a husband or a boyfriend who will tell me everything’s gonna be okay and perhaps even share the responsibility with.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t need to be rescued from my finances. I was able to pay for everything on my own, haven't I? It’s just that at that point, I want to unload some of what I’ve been carrying with somebody other than family and friends.

Another thing is when I was wheeled out of the operating room after, the people I saw the moment I opened my eyes are my brothers, sister-in-law, nephews and cousins. It’s sad to think that I may not come out of the surgery alive and yet I don’t have a significant other waiting for me.

Come to think of it, even if you’re just sick in bed, sometimes you wish for someone who will take care of the helpless and whiny you. You can’t expect that kind of attention from family members all the time.

Fighting the stigma

It’s not only other people who had stigmatized me for being single, sometimes I feel that from my own kith and kin.

They say you cannot choose the relatives you were born into so you’ll just have to accept it. It has to be said that my father’s side of the family—my uncles, if I may be more specific—is probably the most judgmental people you’ll ever meet. Their favorite pastime would be sitting by the gate of the house and just talk about the lives of the people passing by, whether they know them personally or not. And I, being their own niece, is not exempted from that.

What’s amusing is that all of them are almost deaf so they don’t realize that even when talking amongst themselves, their voices are so loud that people can actually hear them. Many times, when they see me coming from the corner of our street (which is still a few meters from our house), they’d go:

“Ayan na parating na, tignan niyo, hindi makabati yan.” (Here she comes. Notice how she’ll ignore us.) 

“Kaya nga siguro tumandang dalaga yan eh.” (No wonder she ends up a spinster.)

Wow. They made it sound that singlehood was some sort of a curse. A punishment for something I did wrong in my life.

First, if saying excuse me before passing right by them meant that I was being disrespectful, then I don’t know how else to behave around them. I don’t know why they still interpret it that way when even as a little girl they know me as quiet and reserved.

Second, how dare they link my demeanor to the fact that I’m single.

It’s funny how some people can draw their own crazy conclusions based on how they perceive others. The disgrace around being single in your forties is downright absurd and it’s something I’m forced to face every day. It’s like a disease that needed to be cured. That I am a lesser woman because I am not married. That I am pitiful. That I have high standards and impossible expectations. Some even supposed that I haven’t gotten over the sudden death of my boyfriend seventeen freaking years ago. Some think I don’t have a single romantic bone in my body. OMG.

Bottomline: They always have something to say.

Because of this sometimes I wish I have someone just to silence all those people and their misconceptions of me. I know it’s too shallow wanting to be in a relationship for this reason, but if only to let them realize that there is nothing relatively wrong with me and maybe that it will eventually shut them up.

Just wanting someone to talk to 

You’ve all heard that line from the Corrs song:

 “I’m not looking for someone to talk to. I’ve got my friends, I’m more than okay.” 

I know my friends, no matter how busy they are with their own lives, they would drop everything at a moment’s notice if they knew I needed someone to talk to. They have always been dependable especially during the lowest moments of my life.

However, there is still that kind of talks that don’t need that same urgency, or maybe something that you don’t even want to talk about even to your closest friends—whether it’s something that happened at work or this new movie or even remembering a funny story that almost made you peed your pants—things so trivial you wouldn’t want to bother your friends with anymore. I mean, you can’t pour out every single thing to them, right?

Perhaps this is one of the things I miss most about being in a relationship. Having someone there to talk to when everything seems to bum you down. And boy,  I can be quite a talker.

Wanting Intimacy 

Do I need to spell this out for you?

If you aren’t single and granted that you’re in a normal relationship (not LDR), you can count on someone to be there to hold your hand, give you cuddles, kisses, hugs, back rubs and of course—a lot more. Intimacy (most especially sexual intimacy) in a relationship is very important. Anyone who says it isn’t can come to me so I can slap the bejeezus out of them.

Everyone needs to be “touched”; It’s the most basic of all the five senses and it’s very crucial in a relationship. Even someone with a tough mien like me wanted that. God, I’m only human.

So there. Apart from the little things like nobody taking my pictures (and me ending up having selfies, LOL) or carrying my heavy groceries—to something big like already second-guessing my self-worth or starting to wonder if I’d ever get to feel crazy in love with someone again, one thing is true: being single is not easy at all which is why sometimes, I wish I wasn’t.

Before you start getting all these crazy ideas, this isn’t a pity piece and definitely not an indirect cry for help. This is just me being honest that I’m not always the supersinglewoman I seemed to be.