Do What?!

It’s good to have concerned brothers, but not all the time.

Ed, Christian and Christopher, my three brothers, have been so strict to me these days. Ed doesn't want me to come home late from school and so as Christian. They do both dislike hearing about suitors and boyfriends. Christopher wants me to “do these, avoid that, eat these and sleep early”—which I found, sometimes, stinking. What these three boys really like me to do is to study hard and avoid admirers. Err…

Well, Ed already has his job as a merchandiser. He goes there at 9am and back home at 11pm—everyday (day offs every Monday but he rather work for it still than to have rest).  It’s quite hard for us to talk now. I miss talking with him. May God guide him all along.

Christian is still rough. Well, it’s him and I understand it. I just don’t like the way he scolds my two younger sisters.

Christopher “The Proud Kuya” cares so much to me that I feel like I have my personal assistant. There he prepares my herbal medicines at night and compiles my papers and requirements necessary for the application of different scholarships. Okay. I just don't like it sometimes like "Hey... I can do it alone..."

Still, I love these three boys though sometimes they care overdo. 

29

I think this is the best birthday I ever had. God finally answered two of my longing prayers--to bring home the bacon for my beloved school and to finally reveal myself, my love behind pretension. I was so thankful that day that I need not to dream anymore.

For almost a month, I did drain my brain for the training I needed to struggle through. There are some instances that I have nothing to write (yeah, quitting was playing at the back of my mind), I neglected some of the activities in the class, and I got mad with my school paper adviser for it seemed he don't know how hard it was to write when you have really nothing divulge out of your head. It's never been easy to write. You too will nod for sure.

November 28. Tomorrow is my birthday. I must be in our house preparing what to cook for tomorrow, inviting some of my closest friends, and reminiscing the last day of my sweet 16. But, I am here, with my SPA, at Fontana Resort Clarkfield, Angeles City, Pampanga bracing myself for tomorrow's contest. It's like "Woah... Regional Schools Press Conference... O.o" That was really a deep sigh. Last year was of the same thing. I didn't even have a chance to celebrate my birthday because it was our training in table tennis. Well, it's okay at least I have saved my (and mama's) penny. It's cold here in hotel. I don't want to eat nor to write and read. I just want to sleep.

November 29. It was approaching 12 am when Wilbert greeted me through text. I felt being 17 and that made me find no any drowse in me that I stayed awake until 5am. I want to sleep. Really wanted to but the lyrics of the song I was playing that moment came in reality. I did hide this for almost a year and got pained many times. My cheeks often experience a hot sensation on my face. It’s okay, it’s part of truthfully loving someone and I’m willing to reap more pain, anything for the one I really love.

This is it. Everything was perfectly done on my birthday. I won 5^th place in Feature Writing English Category. I ate a lot. And I finally expressed myself. I was so contented and gleeful that day. November 29, I'll be waiting for the calendar to approach more and more 29.Thank God.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

Cold As You

Oh what a shame, what a rainy ending given to a perfect day

Just walk away, no use defending words that you will never say

And now that I'm sitting here thinking it through

I've never been anywhere cold as you...

Reign and Lizel can't get rid with that song. Taylor Swift has been a favorite crooner of these two lovely gals and they almost completed her enchanting songs. I'm wondering why -- why this song played and played that seemingly cold morning (indeed, even in the afternoon) until I remember someone. Christmas is coming and what cold breeze it brings these days seems to be as cold as her. Colder.

I admit, mama and I weren't that close. I think I said this a million times. Even my diary will nod, for sure. We talk but we rarely talk further things about mom-and-daughter relationship. It seems like she will never be interested to my stories about being a weird teenager, about my favorite subjects in school, and even to my crushes. What on earth made us both so cold and it's hard for us to be that sweetie-and-mommy twosome. Yes I get envy with those that share frequently their stories to their mamas. These days, I found it awful. Don't want to talk to her even about the school updates. Specifically, my attempts to either apply for a scholarship grant or take an entrance examination in different universities. Whenever I try to open something about it, there I felt she doesn't like to talk about finances and about the examination itself. She’s my mama and I must inform her.  I want someone to listen to me. But then, she can't be that, as of now.

Friday evening. That was Friday evening when my eyebrows totally furrowed with something odd happening inside the house. Chris simmered some leaves of bitter gourd for mama. “For mama..?” I thought. He doesn't like to work with “kalan de uling” and that was a question in my mind. Another, papa was so silent like there was a hostage-taking happened a while ago. April and May was not around. To find some answer built by my curiosity, I asked Chris what’s going on.

Chris looked at me as if he doesn't want to answer my question. The eerie me didn't even care that much until he asked me if I knew what happened that Thursday night. He elaborated his concerns—concerns about mama. Mama had a palpitation; she can’t breathe properly and said that she can’t feel anything; she also experienced increased thirst; and often goes to comfort room to urinate but then seldom comes out from her.  She said it is to be the sign of diabetes. Chris also added that mama is having bruises to her arms and legs.

I wondered. I paused. I thought.

Would these be the reasons why mama is so frantic these days? I’m so self-centered person and I never thought of her. I do love her but I can’t show it off. Something inside me keep on saying that I have to do something for her--something that will make her happy, something that will take away her daily agony, and something that will lead us to be close.  I will try to be a good daughter to her. Appreciate her motherly love. 

Swift’s Cold As You will probably consider a song for teenyboppers or sweet couples but then, I can relate it to another dimension. I really feel the Christmas because of her. But, I won’t let it stay cold. Instead, I’ll fire it. Fire it with love.

Ed was with me before and after the Sunday service. It's been a long a time he's been off to church matters and glad that God answered my prayer--to bring him back to the church again.

I know he missed those things, too. Sing and praise God though sometimes he make it as a rock and roll; listen to the preacher and laugh guiltily as the message speaks to him; talk wide-mouthed with the youth about the things he can't open when we're inside the house; and to be counselled by Elder Jerry or Tatay Del whenever his problems are no longer handful.

I love Ed. I love Ed as I almost meddle his teenage life and sometimes, I try to be an elder sister to him. We exchange advice. We share a lot of secrets more than what we can share to our friends. He is the only one I could talk to about the boys that court me as well as about the guys I really want to refuse (Not being choosy, it is just that they can't stand as my ideal guy) but he often says, "pag-isipan mo munang mabuti... Baka isang araw tomboy ka na..." (in deadpan tone). He speaks frankly and soberly but I always felt the concern. Indeed, what am I now is what he has been wanting me--to be a conservative and not-fond-with-boys girl (Am I?).

I am just wondering what to do after my younger sister, April, told me something hard about Ed. He's smoking covertly and she (April) tells me that Ed is afraid of me and he don't want me to know about the darn thing he's been doing. It's a whack on my head.

No. "No" not because I don't want him to smoke (honestly it's his right to do so and as a teenager he can't easily avoid such things) but "No" because I've been too much busy to myself and to my school works and I almost neglected my poor, sober, problematic and emotional Ed. What to do? What to say?

I have observed him these days and what my younger sister said to me was being proved by his smell--those damn smell of cigs.

He probably have his problem and I can't figure it out. I want to help him but I don't know how. I want to ask him why he do that but my tongue goes backward whenever I see his once-in-a-blue-moon, true smile. And I don't want to steal it.

His smoking didn't matter that much but his problem does. I don't know what's the best way to approach him. 

I care, and Him above cares better. Like what Bob Marley's song says, "evr'y little thing's gonna be alright..."

It was cold
When my hands fold
You gave hot, sweet blend
Sipped and talked like there's no end

Summer meets winter
Mug and heart left empty
Maybe I need some coffee
Again, coffee with you