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R.J.

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Blog Entries posted by R.J.

  1. R.J.

    What to Say

    By R.J.,


    Life
    I've been online since yesterday and I've been trying to find the words to say. *Chuckles* But nothing still comes to mind.
    What I did instead was go through my blog from the first up to the latest entry. And WOW! My mind is just totally blown, you know? I mean, 14 years? FOURTEEN. That was almost half of my life. That might not be a big number for some but man, I didn't realize back then that I'd still be here right now. Back then, I was just a stupid teenager. Now, I've been upgraded to a stupid 33-year-old.
    Though, I must say, my life back then seemed more interesting than my life right now. I did seem like I needed a hug—lots of it—back then. But other than that, I seemed fine. Well, actually, no. I needed a fairy godmother back then. LOL!
    Anyway. I'd like to do this more often. Again. Like I used to. 
    Thanks, Mike, for this wonderful and safe space. 🙂
     
  2. R.J.

    Past, Present, and Future

    By R.J.,


    Writing
    So, as I mentioned in the forums, I have been revisiting my past works and have been thinking of re-writing them. Though now that I think about it, the correct term is editing. The most I'm thinking of re-writing are a few paragraphs but never the whole story really because that is a lot of work.
    But, I don't know. Right now, I'm still afraid I might make a wreck of it instead of making it better.
    On the [new] writing front, I have completed a new short story. And it's long, wow. It's the first story I have completed since Having Put in Time. A story I wrote for Midnight Dude in 2011.
    2011!
    That's a long time.
    As for the story I "abandoned", In a World of Fools, I have actually gotten a few emails about it over the years, and I'm hoping they are reading this blog, because I do plan on continuing it. I think I mentioned in a blog post before that I stopped writing it because my computer back then died, and with it, all my files as well. It was frustrating at that time. But, now, I'm glad the cloud has been invented. No more lost files.
    Looking back, I'm also glad that I did not get to finish In a World of Fools, because, that time, I was in a really really bad place, and I fully intended to write the story as a tragedy. Regardless, I have learned my lesson, which is to complete the whole story/novel first before posting. It also will be easier that way to rewrite certain parts.
    Currently, I'm in the middle of drafting a Tagalog novel, 220, posted in my Wattpad account. I plan to translate this into English and have it here in AD.
    I also have a few ideas ruminating up there, but we'll see how it goes.
    I'm taking this one step at a time.
  3. R.J.

    Blink of an Eye

    By R.J.,

    Six years. That's how long it's been since I last blogged something. And how do I still know my password? Because it's my real name. I think I changed it to that two years ago, so I won't forget.
    Six years. And it seems like it's only yesterday.
    Six years. Though it hardly seems like a blink of an eye.
    Six years. And I'm still alive.
    Well, would you look at that.
  4. R.J.

    Lines

    By R.J.,

    So far, most of the time I've spent online was spent reading. As I had been a teenager -- fourteen -- when I first found Nifty, I mostly stuck with the high school and young friends section. That mostly changed now of course. I've made some observations from the stories I read, and I found that almost all of them -- most being American, Canadian, British, and the rare Australian -- are very consistent in what they tell of their reality that I have come to believe them. Of course, maybe they're all exaggerations.
    The most consistent "fact" is the high school cliques -- jocks, cheerleaders, preppies, geeks, punks, blah, blah, blah. When I first read one of those high school stories, I thought, are these guys for real? And then, I found that there's more of them. In fact, I can't remember reading a high school story that didn't have these cliques. I just kept reading these stories that soon, I began to believe that that's the status quo in the Western Hemisphere (I'm not sure if Australia is a part of which hemisphere). Sure, there are those rare best friends from different cliques, but they had to have known each other since kinder, or had been neighbors most of their lives.
    That's why I wonder, if I write a high school story where there are none of these usual cliques, would anyone believe me? If all these different people mingle with each other, would it be okay? Would it not spark disbelief in others? These cliques add conflict, I know. But, I've never known these cliques, not once, in my short high school career. The only cliques I've known are the guys clique and the girls clique, and you can't really call those cliques.
    There are no cliques in Philippine high schools, at least, not in the birds-of-the-same-feather sense. There are the jocks, geeks, punks, etc., but you would rarely see them grouping together. Who you'll mostly find grouped together are those who have sat with each other on the first day of classes, or those who are neighbors. Even gays, as in the stereotypical Hollywood gay, can be found in one of these groups. I could be wrong, but as far as I know, there's no such thing as a pecking order in high schools here.
    As far as bullies go, they are an undying species, though I've never really seen one at his worst. So I think bullies here can be classified as sissy bullies. At least, the high school ones. Now, the slum areas are a different story. You'll find your classic bully there. Only, he's uneducated and very much used to getting his way by flashing his guns.
    It's perplexing to think how people in the same planet could end up so differently in the way they live. If what I read of high schools abroad are true, I think it's very sad. I think the adults, claiming to be the "more responsible ones" should think of a way to change this.
    And they could start with the cafeteria. From the movies I watched where there are high schoolers, the cafeteria tables abroad are round/square ones that can probably sit up to ten students. Probably, the reason why I found none of these social cliques -- that could very often lead to social discrimination -- is the fact that we use looooong tables here, the ones that can sit up to thirty students or more.
    That's my theory, anyway: long tables that would force people to eat together. Wouldn't that be sweet?
  5. R.J.

    "Amazing Grace"

    By R.J.,

    I've changed my pen name to RJ now -- my real name's initials actually. If you're new here, I was formerly known as Rad Steven. I still like to be called Rad though. It is, after all, a part of the "R" in my new pen name.
    I told Mike, the guys at Codey's World, and Rob (at The Authors' Haunt) that the change was because that's what I need. A change.
    I think anyone who has been reading my blog here will agree that I do need a change.
    This year has been something I didn't expect it to be. First, January of this year, my best friend moved somewhere. I didn't expect it to affect me as much as it did. I was, or am -- surprise! -- in love with him. But more than that, he was my confidante, my comforter, my, well, whatever it is that best friends do. I didn't really think much of what my parents do until I didn't have a trusted ear to confide in about it.
    He's very terrible at keeping in touch, and, I guess, I just gave up. I mean, I'm sure there'll be times when we'd see each other again, so I'll just wait for those.
    And then there was that job. Right now, there's a bit of regret in me that I resigned, but I also don't know how much I'd be regretting it if I had stayed. But, being broke all the time, well, it has its highs and lows. Or lows and lows, depending on your point of view.
    Then school. I finally decided on what I'm going to do, and in the process, I gave up The Dream -- you know, the dream that all of us, at one point in our lives, believed we'd be able to achieve. For now, I feel alright about it. And I hope that I won't regret it later in life. And that's my goal: to study as best as I can so that I won't regret the career change.
    I'm not so depressed now; well, maybe when I'm lying in bed at night and worrying about the future. I'm mostly angry, but it's an emotion I rarely show. I finally gave up on my parents -- they'll never ever change. I've focused on getting my degree and getting the hell out of here. The faster, the better. The farther, the better.
    I finally have that goal again. Become my own man.
    Thing is, I have this internal debate going on -- and sometimes I think it's stupid -- if one night stands are something I'd want to continue having. On one hand, I think sex is sex. On the other, well, there is no other yet. All those gay romance stories have messed up my mind! But I haven't looked for any since I'm still confused about the subject.
    But, anyway, I like to think things will be different this time, that I've got a handle over things this time. And I'm sorry for turning this blog into "musings of a tortured mind" (as WBMS had said) for a while. I was really more depressed about what my life had become, than the daily going-ons (or goings on, whatever). Right now, what they do, say, or what I think they think don't hurt me anymore, but it really pisses me off. So I just piss them off back, just, you know, very subtly.
  6. R.J.

    Where's the Joystick?

    By R.J.,

    After months of silence, all I can give you is another stinking breath of depression. And I apologize. I just need to unload.
    And, on that note.
    The past few months, I’ve been rather... adrift. Kind of like floating in space. It just seemed like the more I tried to get control of my life, the more I lose it.
    So I let go.
    I really let go. In fact, I’ve probably gained at least five pounds now. If not for my metabolism, it probably would’ve been ten pounds. My pants also have become a little difficult to fit into. It’s really embarrassing, but there’s not much I can do but stop doing whatever it is I’ve been doing.
    I’ve been letting things happen on their own. It’s actually almost like I wasn’t there. I was just watching from the background. Watching myself fail. Every day.
    I had quit going to that shit-class school.
    I had quit my fucked up telemarketer job.
    The only thing left to do now is move out. Even if I’m not ready to. Thing is, I’m just so afraid of dying of hunger. So, you know, I have to swallow my pride – what’s left of it – every day, while my parents do what they do best. I can’t even think of them now without wishing they meet an accident on the way home. I just really can’t believe they’re my parents. And, you know, I’d rather not think of them that way. But I can’t help it.
    It’s been hell. And, probably, the only bright spot these past few months are the emails, well, almost everything online. Almost. It’s been a trying year, so far.
    I think I even have a monster writer’s block now. What else can go wrong, right?
    Anyway. Phew! Anyway.
    Cole Parker told me that when he writes his novels, he completes it first before posting it on the web. I tried. I really tried, but it’s just not for me. I can’t finish anything but short stories. So, I guess, you’ll be seeing a first chapter as soon as I get some things straightened out, but the posting of chapters would only definitely happen after they’re each completed.
    From time to time, I still try to get control of my life. My latest attempt is enrolling for a vocational course, something about computers. The classes would be next week. And if everything goes as planned, I’d be going back to college and shift courses from Accountancy to either CompSci or IT after this vocational thing. As for a job I can’t seem to find to right one for me. If only I have porn star looks.
  7. R.J.

    Nights Eternal

    By R.J.,

    Transferred to graveyard shift again. Ugh.
    I don't mind if I get caught using the internet. I think I deserve it. The internet, I mean. *Chuckles*
  8. R.J.

    At the Moment

    By R.J.,

    I find it hard to blame myself.
    I've always read about people blaming others but themselves, and I always agree with that stuff. It's that ego thing; you know, like they did their best, but they just didn't think first if they're doing the right thing under the circumstances, so saying they made the wrong decision is like tripping in the mall or right in front of national TV. Or maybe they didn't do the good thing. I don't know. I've always read - again - that there are no right decisions, only good decisions. I don't want to think if they made the good decisions or not, because that would mean all the fault falls down on me. In their eyes, at least, and all this time I do believe that that's what is going on. I mean, what I think is good may not be the same with what they think it is.
    Life scares me right now. I'm already 20 years old, but my life isn't going towards the direction I wanted it to go to. I'm not sure I have the control over it. I'm not sure how I'd be able to get control over it. It's a fucked up feeling. Especially when the people I blame for my life going this way might be blaming me for the same thing. Right now, I feel like becoming a hermit, a recluse. I just don't want to die of hunger. That's the most fucked up thing in this world. No one should die of hunger.
    I've always tried thinking of the things I might have not done enough. Like, maybe I should have argued more, defended my case more, had a tantrum, didn't act like I can bear anything life throws at me. Stupid me, always stoic, always happy-go-lucky, always playing it easy. Now they think they did good, and I was too lax that's why everything's going this way. I really don't know what to do. I just wish I could stop smiling about it.
    I thought the new job would be good. Fuck, they made it look good during the training. I was so stupid. I had never been so stupid in my life. Never felt that way before. Next time, I'll ask first some of the employees on their opinion before signing up for anything; there has to be a majority of opinion. And yeah, I'm already planning on quitting. Just don't know when. I have plans on going back to school, and that particular company doesn't seem to care about it. If the salary's good I would have considered really staying, like, forgetting about school for a while. But it just isn't. At least, I have myself to blame for that. Really stupid of me to assume it's gold because they said it glitters. I should have known why hearsay isn't admissible in court. Fuck.
    Anyway, sorry about spouting off. I'm not doped, I swear. I just needed to vent and this looks like the perfect place. I did say something about decisions being good at the moment, right?
  9. R.J.

    Might

    By R.J.,

    As Camy had put it, my muse had been on a vacation. But it's now back because of an inspiration from a friend. He told me I should write a poem for the guy who got me into writing poetry and on whom I have a little crush on. I hadn't written in weeks, I think, before that, but on hearing that advice, I finally did. Thanks to him! (Raise your hand please. *Grins*) I'm posting it here because it's too personal for me to post at CW, though not that personal for me to post here in my blog. Go figure. The title is You and Me.

    Reign inside;
    In the midst of
    Chaos, divide;
    Heart and soul unite;
    A longing kiss
    Restores the body;
    Deny me not.
    All that's said
    Gives all that's taken;
    All that's done
    Brings back the beat,
    Unclogs the veins and arteries,
    Summons the heart again.
    Taken by tomorrow,
    Only yesterday to grieve for,
    Lost longings
    End their journey,
    Now meeting
    Their equal, their partner,
    In the midst of chaos
    Never to part
    Or even die.
    Omens lie;
    Crowns are wastes;
    Another beginning
    Makes all of yesterday
    Part forever;
    Onward we go.


    Anyway... I had told you about my job hunting exploits two weeks ago, and it just seemed fair that I tell you my current situation. I just had an interview with another call center company yesterday, and I now have to go back on Wednesday for training. Never mind that it's more than an hour away from where I live. I love commuting anyway, all those hot guys on the train. Mmm. It really surprises me how many hot guys I see in there.
    Anyway, I haven't signed any contract yet, and I'm really not going to get my hopes up. But I wish that was just an oversight. I mean, I was oriented the same day I passed their hiring process, so. I might have a job before the year ends. Ah, I said I won't get my hopes up. The company that I might be working for would have customers based on the West Coast and Australia. The starting pay, though, is a bit smaller than what those companies near where I live offer, so I'll get some experience and try to have a go at those companies again. At least, I might be earning something before the end of the year. Might, being the key word.
    I'll write something when I'm officially hired.
  10. R.J.

    Day of Defiance

    By R.J.,

    Day of Defiance. I like that. I heard it on TV yesterday, during that "non"-coup d' etat. It was one of the leaders of the "non"-rebellion who said that. Day of Defiance, he said, so we should all go there and support them. In other words, they need human shields to block bullets from the police and the army. Poor them, though. Only the media went there so they could cover what was happening. And they surrendered in the end, after the government rammed a tank into the hotel (The Peninsula) that they used as fortress. The media guys were "arrested" along with them because the police and the army were irritated since they couldn't fire at the "non"-rebels at will. Stupid media. I wish those "non"-rebels were all killed yesterday. They were playing underdog after the whole event.
    Anyway.
    I haven't blogged in a while. I haven't blogged a real blog in a while. I mean, I wrote a poem, an unfinished story, and some spam (because I read my junk mail too). But "nothing" since that Parental Guidance thing. Well, I'm blogging now.
    Six months ago, I quit my job, intending to concentrate on studying. I was supposed to be in my third year as an accounting student, and well, things are supposed to be "intense" at that time, right? The college of business in that school was new; they've been a medical school for more than 25 years. So they needed guys who would surely pass the CPA board, regardless of where they studied, so they offered me a "scholarship", and some other stupid smart students who don't have that much money to study in college. The teaching was crappy. It actually took me 5 semesters before I said enough to that. So now I'm out of school, looking for a job again.
    That was the decision that I was talking about, a few entries back. Quit school. But I didn't tell my parents, until the next semester, this semester, was supposed to start. They got mad at first, though I didn't really mind. They weren't paying for it, after all. I don't know when or how I'll be able to go back to school. But I'm hoping that by June next year, I've saved enough money for that. That is, if I could find a job, which is really hard right now.
    Others had encouraged me to go out there and find a job, but I wasn't really "encouraged", you know. It's not for lack of wanting either. I don't know. I guess, some people had to experience mid-life crisis at an early age. In the past six months, I've been angry at the world for all the reasons that I could think of, angry at my parents for the way they were, angry at myself for not being myself. I wish I could show what I really was feeling inside, but it's so easy for me to smile and pretend nothing's going on. My bad, I guess.
    Three days ago, I had a "conversation" with my best friend, if you would call texting a conversation. He told me that he got a job at a department store near where I live. (He had moved away, so that means I'll be seeing more of him now.) He told me to get a job too, and if I could, get one where he would be working. And I wanted to. I don't know if it's sad or funny that a lot of people could encourage me to get a job and I still won't be encouraged, but it took my best friend, telling me through SMS, to get a job just to kind of get my spirits up back again. If I had lost it, that is.
    The problem is that I'm tired of working for minimum wage. I don't want to work hard for less money anymore. And those minimum-wage jobs always had more requirements than the jobs that pay more. Like haircut. I want to grow my hair up to shoulder length. I haven't cut it in five months, so having it cut just to get paid with minimum wage doesn't sit well with me. At all. I suppose I could always try being a rentboy for a while, and don't think that it hasn't crossed my mind at all. But that's as far down in my list as harakiri is.
    I applied for a job two days ago at three call center companies. And no luck. I really don't know why. I mean, I just have to talk English on the phone, and that isn't hard. At the first one, I got as far as the second interview, which, after that, is the final interview. The interviewer in the second interview was a big, fat Indian, who was wheezing the whole time he was interviewing me. And damn it, I spoke better English than he did. He doesn't have any right at all to tell me I didn't pass his interview. The second company told me they'd call me the next day, and I thought, "Yeah, right," but I still waited for their call. It didn't came. Nothing from the phone at home. No missed call on my mobile phone either. The third wanted to see my transcripts in college. And let me tell you, getting your transcripts when your undergraduate is like cutting through the red tape in goverment agencies. I really don't know what the big deal is. The job was, after all, a job where Americans from all over the U.S. curse you over the phone. Seems like a minimum wage job is all I can get right now.
    So I'm faced with a decision between cutting the hair that I've been taking care of for the past five months so I could get paid with minimum wage, and having no job but with the promise of seeing how I'd look like with my hair touching my shoulders. Tough decisions for me. I really want to grow my hair long. I think six more months and I'll have that.
    End rant.
    I haven't answered most of the emails I have received in the past days (more than one is already many), so if any of you reading this have emailed me, you'll be seeing my name in your inbox either later today or tomorrow. I'm not dodging anyone, I swear. I could've answered my emails yesterday, but I was glued to the TV, watching that tank ram into the hotel entrance. It was really cool watching that, by the way, but seeing them fighting their own brothers, their fellow Filipinos, well, it was sad. It's good that the "non"-rebels surrendered, though I'd rather see them killed.
    Well, okay, I'll do my emails now.
  11. R.J.

    That Look on His Face

    By R.J.,

    I started to write a story for GA's Fall Anthology. The theme was Worth Fighting For, and I liked it. But I never got to finish the story even though I had a lot of time to because I just lost the inspiration. So if you're not interested in reading an unfinished story, don't read further because I'm posting it here. Again, I'm warning you. This is an unfinished story.

    That Look on His Face


    I will never forget that look on his face, as brief as it is. It's like a short explosion of joy. I swear, his face at that moment lights up the highway. But then, he looks at me, askance, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. I can almost hear his thoughts aloud. I can taste his desire. I can read them on his face. His eyes beg me. They ask me for assurances, but I wait for him to speak. I wait to hear his voice. Yet, timidity takes over him. His stare returns back down to the ground, and his glances become furtive. At that moment, I feel my heart break-more for him than for myself. How can this boy lose the spirit that makes childhood so full of life and liberating?
    I decide to sit with him on the sidewalk in front of the internet caf? that I half-own. I have been closing down already when I saw him huddled next to this big pot of plant near the entrance. I think he must be around nine years old. I can tell that he is new to the streets because his clothes are not that dirty and his eyes are all over the place like he is scared someone will jump out of the shadows anytime to take him. My heart has immediately gone out to him. I remember how frightened he looked when I approached him to give him my unfinished lunch. I have reheated it inside for him then placed it beside him with a smile. Now, he is still looking at the food then to me with a question. I have imagined he would immediately gobble it up, but he sits there, totally unsure.
    "It's okay, bud. You can eat it. It's hot," I say. I have not a single idea what else to tell him. He seems to think it over, and I don't realize until then that I want so much for him to eat the food that I have brought him. I'm confused of his reaction to me because not many of these street kids would turn down a meal that have been offered to them. At the same time, I find myself approving his wariness for strangers. I just hope he would soon learn to trust me. I don't know what it is, but I feel an urge inside me to look after this kid and I rarely disregard my urges. I just hope he would still be here tomorrow.
    Almost hesitantly, the kid reaches for the plate of food that I have placed beside him. It's like he is expecting me to take it back. I smile at him encouragingly. He lifts the plate near his mouth and inhales. God, I wonder when he last had something to eat. His eyes flashes at me again, all wariness, but he puts a spoonful of rice in his mouth and pops one of the chicken nuggets in. It is alright, I realize, he doesn't have to trust me; he just has to eat. I can never live with myself knowing I have ignored this little angel at my doorstep. He continues to feed himself, glancing at me once in a while as if I would take the plate of food from him. Not a chance, I want to tell him, but I stay silent, happy for the fact that the little guy is eating the food I have given him.
    He finishes up, and there is not a bit of rice left on the plate. I can tell that he wants more, but he contents himself with what he got. He places the empty plate on the ground where I have put it earlier and mutters, "Thank you." His voice puts a smile on my face. I swear I saw him smile a little, and the effort makes my heart jump. It saddens me that he won't smile more, and I wonder once again what could break such a boy's spirit as young as he is.
    I smile at him again and take the plate inside. I bring him water on a plastic cup and start locking down everything. After I'm sure everything is secured, I sit next to him. I ask, "Do you have a place to stay tonight?" I have absolutely no idea what I am doing. I can't explain it, but the best that I could come up with is this urge inside me to help him, to take care of him.
    "Yes," he answers me.
    It disappoints me, but I smile at him. For some reason, he reminds me of how empty my apartment is right now. I stand up and give him a twenty-peso bill. "Take care," I tell him. I hope I see him again tomorrow.
    The next morning, I stop by a fastfood and buy breakfasts for two. I have been so sure that I would see the boy at my doorstep again, but he isn't there. I look around after parking my car, hoping to see just a glimpse of him, but later troop to my shop with bags of breakfasts, disappointed. I put his share in the microwave oven, then proceed to attack mine.
    I always open the shop up at seven a.m., and there always is a customer at that time. Same as there always still is a customer at ten p.m. when I close down. Jeff, my lover and business partner, has gone to attend to his sick mother for a week now. We used to divide the day between us, but I don't know when he'll be back, so that leaves the shop to me the whole day for now. Our shop also takes in computer repairs, which is sort of a sideline for both Jeff and I, as well as website building. Whoever gets the repair job gets the money. Getting the repair job depends on what time we were at the shop. I used to have the shop to myself during the earlier half of our business time, but now that I have the whole time to myself, I have more extra money, aside from my half of the income from the caf? itself. But it is also tiring. I
    pray Jeff be back soon.
    At lunch, I check the sidewalks, but I find no sign of the boy. I give up the thought of seeing him again. I heat the breakfast-his breakfast-in the oven and eat it on my desk. A couple of customers comment on my meal, and I relate to them the story about the boy from last night. "Nah, somebody just stood you up for breakfast," one of the regulars chides, which, of course, elicits laughter from the whole shop. "I'm charging you double," I retort back to him. The rest of the day passes by fast, and I owe it from the workload that Jeff has left to me. It's tiring, yes, but I have always liked the idea of being my own boss. Besides, we still have one of our feet in a little debt over this business. It's nothing that we worry about though. In a few months, we're sure we will be debt-free.
    Closing up at ten is the same as always. I wait for the last of the customers to filter out of the shop and then sweep the floors until I'm sure I've swept almost all the dusts away. Sometimes I find stuffs obviously forgotten by some forgetful customers. I put them in the drawers in case someone comes back to look for them. When it comes to money, I admit that I usually pocket them, unless, of course, when someone comes asking me about it. Jeff and I keep a log about those, but usually, it's finder's keepers. After sweeping, I mop every inch of the floor. It's a good thing the floors are tiled; they are easier to keep clean that way. I check if all the computers are already unplugged. Then, I switched off the main power switch. The window grills are chained and padlocked, the front doors barricaded with locks after the burglary alarms were turned on. They were connected to our apartment and the nearest police station.
    I think of the boy as I drive home, wondering if I should buy him breakfast again tomorrow morning. I keep looking right and left. That boy near the dumpster, another one across the street, they remind me of the boy from last night. I lose interest, though, when I see that they're not him. The ritual continues until I park the car in front of the building where my apartment is. I lay on my bed with the boy in my mind. I desperately want to forget about him, and it's the last thought I have in my mind as I drift off to sleep. I don't have time to tell myself not to
    dream about him.
    He is sleeping on a flattened-out cardboard box next to the pot of plant when I arrive the next morning with my usual breakfast. His pillow is a little knapsack that I think contains his stuff. I briefly wonder if he is a runaway, then scold myself for not bringing extra food. I wake the boy after I've set the whole shop up. He sits up groggily and starts to pick up the cardboard, tucking it under his arm. He stands and starts to walk away, but I stop him. "Do you want to come in, clean up, and eat breakfast first?" He looks down at the ground and seems to think it over. After a few seconds, he shyly nods at me, and I lead him inside with a hand on his back. I show him where the bathroom is and then put his cardboard behind the counter. I call the nearest fastfood for two more breakfast meals. I want the boy to eat a lot.
    The breakfast arrives as the boy strolls over to the counter where I sit. He is still dressed in the same clothes, but he is definitely cleaner. His hair is newly washed, and his skin is rid of dirt. I make a note to myself to buy some clothes for him at the flea market. Just in case, I remind myself, just in case I see him again. We eat as a few customers come in. If the presence of the boy bothers them, they say nothing about it to me. As I have expected, the boy is hungry. I wonder how much he had for food yesterday. He is smiling when we finished our food.
    "Thanks, mister."
    "Kuya will do," I tell him, smiling, "I'm not that old yet. What's your name, anyway?"
    "Cyrus."
    "I'm Wendell," I say to him. "Well, Cyrus, if you have nowhere else to go just yet, I'll be glad to have you with me here. Do you know anything about computers?"
    He shakes his head, but I notice him glance at the computers excitedly. I'm not surprised that he knows nothing about computers, though, with him being in the streets and all. I'm guessing-if he has parents-that they have not let him go to school for lack of money. Maybe they even make him work. What I want to find out, though, is how long he has been staying in the streets. But that can wait for another day.
    I make Cyrus sit on the booth next to the counter and try to explain to him how to use the computer. When I'm finally sure that he can do the basic operation, I leave him alone, telling him not to hesitate to call me if he has any question. He smiles wide, looking like a kid with a new toy.
    The fact that he might not know how to read hits me only when I'm into the third paragraph of my email to Jeff. I go out of the counter and look at his monitor. He would open a program then close it after looking it over. That's how I learned how to use a computer. When he settles on Paint, I tap him on the shoulders. He looks up at me, and I take the mouse, minimizing Paint. "Can you read?" I ask him, and he nods. "Okay. Read this." I point at the Microsoft Word icon.
    "Mee-cro-sof-tuh word," he reads, then turns back to look at me again.
    "That's good," I tell him, "But it's not mee-cro-soft. It's my-cro-soft." I maximize the Paint window and pat Cyrus' head, leaving him to do what he wants. Maybe I'll dig up my Mario Brothers game CD for him. That's where I started with computers too. When he becomes tired of that, maybe I'll teach him Grand Theft Auto, Counter Strike, Battle Realms, and War Craft. Even website building.
    I go back to my email to Jeff, telling him that Cyrus can read after all. I ask him how he felt about letting Cyrus stay with us. I then remind him to call when he can.
    For the rest of the day, I teach Cyrus all the things that he wants to know about computers, and by closing time, he knows all about the usual stuffs-internet, office, media player, etc. He doesn't read that well, so the icons really are a big help. That isn't what makes me feel better though. It is feeding Cyrus the whole day. He's like the little brother that I never had. After locking down everything, I ask him again if he has a place to stay. He nods yes, and I wonder again where this place he is talking about is. I want to take him home with me, but I don't push the issue. I leave him with twenty pesos again.
    The next day, I pass by a flea market and buy two sets of clothes for Cyrus. He is sitting on the sidewalk in front of the shop, and I quickly send him inside to clean up, giving him the clothes I bought. I once again call the nearest fastfood for three orders of breakfast, which we eat on the counter together as customers start to file in. I teach Cyrus how to play Mario for a while, and he learns quickly. Lunch and dinner are also with him. We go on like this for a few days, and before I even realize it, two weeks has already gone by.
    I watch him transform during those days that we have been together. He's like a bird who suddenly realized that he's out of the cage, and it reminds me of the first time that I've seen him. I am reminded of the way his gloomy face broke out into a joyful expression as I put a plate of food in front of him that night. Now, though, he has that expression everytime I look at him, and it makes me happy that I'm able to fuel his joy. Gone is that timid boy that I have met weeks ago. A boy who smiles a lot and is eager to learn a lot of stuffs about computer have replaced him. One thing that I can't workout, though, is why he wouldn't want to stay with me since we both know that he is homeless. Sometimes, I try asking about his parents, but all I get is a shrug. For a kid, he sure can keep things to himself.
    It is one afternoon after lunch that things start going to hell. I am teaching Cyrus all about Battle Realms-I figure I'll start with the least violent first-when this tall thin guy bursts into the shop accompanied by a policeman. He goes straight for Cyrus who suddenly turns pale, picking him up by pulling one of his ears.
    "What did I tell you?" he snarls at the boy.
    Having had enough, I clear my throat and say, "Excuse me. Are you his father?" The policeman stands there like a stump, looking unconcerned.
    The guy turns to me, scowling. "You mind your own business!" he barks at me. By this time, the customers are all up from their seats and watching the ruckus.
    "Well, sir, you are here in my property and I must ask you to leave," I tell him sarcastically, "Without the boy, of course, unless you're his father."
    "Are you?"
    I fall silent.
    "See?" His grin is condescending. "I'm his uncle."
    He drags Cyrus towards the door, and I turn to follow. The policeman grabs my arm, saying, "Please, sir, you don't need to get involved with this."
    "Right. And who would? You?
    That's it. Sorry. I don't think I would be finishing this story. *Shrugs*
  12. R.J.

    Moving Out

    By R.J.,

    I'm a closeted poet. LOL. I write horrible poems in my journal, but I wrote something last night that you might find worthwhile. It's just something that's been on my mind for a while now. Anyway, enough rambling. Here it is.
    Moving Out
    My shackles are made of blood,
    Staining my body with utter despair,
    And my voice is gone,
    Roaming the earth with a call for help.
    Surrender would have been easy,
    But my spirit has wings that long for flight.
    The sky calls for me,
    But I am bound with shackles of blood.
    My eyes are dry
    For the tears have long since claimed their freedom.
    Now I am just a shell
    Of dreams of rainbows and a bright blue sky.
    A night will come when eyes would be unseeing,
    And I will escape and fly where the light is.
    I will bathe myself with newfound tears of joy,
    And wash all the blood that shackles me.
  13. R.J.

    Just Something

    By R.J.,

    Hey Guys (and Ladies, if there are some reading this)!
    I've been exchanging emails with a reader recently, and I'll share a part of one of them here.
    I know you might've heard this before, but I just want to let you know (again!) that you're doing your job.
    Have a great weekend! (There's a typhoon/storm and I don't think mine would be great.)
  14. R.J.

    Sweet Sixteen

    By R.J.,

    I just got back to school today. The government has suspended classes since Wednesday until Saturday last week because of a typhoon. Rained buckets for days, plus buffeting winds, landslides, and all that stuff. It's the first natural rain we had this year, so it's basically the end of the dry spell. Then yesterday (Monday), it was a holiday. You know, one of those hero days. So that was almost a week-long vacation. Damn, I thought the weatherman said there would four more typhoons to go through our country this August. Only more than a week left of August now though, so there's no hope for that. Sigh. The weather's back again to 30?+ C, and there are classes again.
    Anyway, on to happy thoughts. I broke my own winning streak record at the arcades today! Sixteen, sweet! It took seventeen guys before I was finally beaten at Soul Calibur, which doesn't say much because by the time I was facing the seventeenth challenger, I was already tired. And those weren't beginners I was playing with, I can tell! *Gloat, gloat* And the last time I played was a week ago! I'm so proud of myself! LOL. I played as Siegfried of course. That's a boost from my previous record of nine. I wonder if there are pro arcade players.
    As for the long-haired dude, he had beaten me two weeks ago. Haven't seen him since. I would've had another winning streak then, but he had ended it after I had six wins I think.
    This same entry is being posted on another blog of mine. I'm so original. Haha.
  15. R.J.

    Parental Guidance

    By R.J.,

    It always takes me a lot of time to make or implement plans/decisions, especially when it would make a mark on my life where people stop and ask "what's that?" I believe that there are only two kinds of plan: the one where I change my course, whether for the good or the bad, and the one where I just stay in the same track that my life had been running on since forever. Planning is just a simple thing of seeing which one would yield greater results. Nothing hard there. And yet, it still takes me months.
    I spend half the time thinking not if plan A would make me rich but if my folks would approve it. I don't want to be like that. I mean no disrespect but I just have to live my life the way I want to. I really don't want to care what they say, but the fact that they're my parents makes their opinion matter. I don't know if this would make sense: I believe their opinion matters, but I dont care. I mean, I'm already an adult now -- well, of legal age, anyway -- but as a Filipino, that doesn't mean anything. I have to do whatever they think I should do. If I don't, I'm going to be seen as a disobedient son. I'm going to be an ungrateful son, someone who never saw what his mother went through giving birth to him. Regardless if I made a good decision, I'll still be an ingrate.
    And that's just it. I really don't care anymore if my parents think I'm an ungrateful son. I can deal with two persons. BUT. They've got the whole world behind them. Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating, but that's how it feels like. I could just hear my relatives talk behind my back about the kind of person I am. I could just see their friends shaking their heads at the black sheep. I don't want to care what they think about me, but I do. I want to turn it off. I want to be able to say "fuck you, this is my life!" But I also want to hear some approval there.
    I guess that's where I'm at fault. Wanting approval, or maybe just a little acceptance. If they'll just concede a little that I can decide on my own without their approval, I'll be ok. I mean, if ever they oppose something I want to do, I could point out that fact. But my parents are just not like that.
    And so I spend the other half of the time thinking if I could take their anger (or whatever it is they want to give me). Because while I don't care what they do, they really could still do things that could drive me over the edge. I've already made my decision. In fact, I've already implemented it without their knowledge. I'm gonna tell them next week.
    Really, I don't care anymore what my parents think, but I just can't take on the whole world.
  16. R.J.
    I'd rather you hear it from me than from somebody else. Yes, lame jokes make me laugh. I was listening to the radio yesterday -- well, it was actually the neighbor, but the radio was so loud I had no other choice -- when I heard this joke. I didn't roll on the floor or try to get my ass off myself, but I did laugh out loud. I just thought I'd share it with you. I know I'm not the only one who would like this joke.
    Man1: Dude, my wife made me choose between love and my friends.
    Man2: What did you choose?
    Man1: Love, of course.
    Man2: Then why are you here?
    Man1: Dude, I love you!
    Ok, I admit I still couldn't keep myself from giggling a bit after typing that. I hope some of you enjoyed it. Besides, I translated that from Tagalog for you. You should thank me.
    It's eleven a.m. when I woke up. The president is about to deliver her State of the Nation Address, and I'm still wiping the sleepiness from my eyes. Good morning. I just had this dream that woke me up. It was weird, kind of funny, but I still want to "continue" it. Unfortunately, I can't.
    I was in a wake with an ex. I didn't know who was dead nor did I look in the coffin. It was a dream and the me in the dream was doing his own thing. He was being huggie and kissie with the ex in front of everyone. Scandalous. The people at the wake were watching us. Then out of nowhere -- I never saw where they materialized from -- three women appeared and walked to the coffin. One of them was crying, and somehow, I knew that she was the mother. She wailed loudly while me and the ex were fortunately still with clothes on. All of a sudden, the mother said to the coffin, "Why are you late?" And it was in English too. Not Tagalog. I was like "Huh?" in the dream, but everyone in the room was laughing. They laughed like those laughs you hear when watching sitcoms. Weird. I never did know what the ex's reaction was to the mother's line back there because I woke up right after everyone laughed.
    I purposely separated the word into two because all the other titles were two words. I hate them. Cockroaches, I mean.
    Last night, before going to sleep, I was on a rampage inside my room. I was chasing around this cockroach, and it was chasing me too. I had a photocopy of a part of the book we were studying rolled up like a nightstick in my hands. I was furiously hacking at it, but it was too fast. Or maybe I was too slow. Either way, it kept getting away.
    It kept flying around the room that I almost wish I knew how to swing a bat in baseball. The funny thing about it was that everytime I took a swing at the roach, it would suddenly fly to another direction making me miss the target. It was frustrating and funny both at the same time. The roach was flying fast too. There was one time when it flew at the direction of my face. I didn't try to swing at it. Instead, I ducked out of the way. I just didn't have time to think about what to do. If I had, I would have done a matrix back there.
    Unfortunately, the insect escaped under my bed.
  17. R.J.

    No Sex

    By R.J.,

    I just finished replying to an email from a reader about Option To Live. I'm really flattered about the way he described the story because it was just the way I would describe it. Anyway, I told him I was thinking of dancing and jumping for joy. Not because of his description (of my story) but because he was the first one to have sent me an email from Nifty. I should have known it wouldn't have been a hit when they (Nifty) told me they posted the story under the No Sex section. Haha. It was more than a month ago when I posted that story. If it had been a paper lying in wait for a reader, it would have accumulated enough dust to grow a forest. The guy said he only clicked on the No Sex link by accident.
    I have totally forgotten that I posted that story at Nifty until today, when that guy emailed me. Anyway, that's all.
    Oh, yeah, and world peace!
  18. R.J.
    Yeah, I realize The Raccoon just might sue me for using that title without his permission. We all know how much he takes pleasure on shitting in our shoes. On us. But what if he wants to punish someone? Ever wonder what he would do? I haven't, and I don't wanna.
    But that isn't what I'm going to be talking about.
    There must be something in the air these days. I've been feeling lethargic since school started, maybe even before that. I didn't and don't want to do anything. I mostly go to class, go back home, eat, check my email, and sleep, which I have been doing a lot of. I think I'm even overdoing it, or oversleeping, whatever the correct term is. It seems all I wanted these days is to be in bed. Not that that's a bad thing, just unusual. I was never like that. I used to sleep for five hours a day before. I think I'm doing ten these days and that's not counting the afternoon naps. I've really been lazy these days.
    We have a pet cat at home. It's a half-persian, half-stray-cat. It looks mostly like a stray cat, but it really is a persian at heart. All it ever does is sleep, and then wake up to eat. Then back to sleep again. What a lazy cat. It's friendly to mice too. I notice it likes rubbing itself against my leg.
    The cat must have rubbed off on me.
  19. R.J.

    That Notebook

    By R.J.,

    A blog.
    Yes, kind of like a diary. Except I choose to make this one public. And if you're wondering, I do keep a diary in my room. Secretly That thick notebook would get me in a world of trouble if someone ever manage to read a page of it. I'm into my second notebook now actually. I started Christmas of 2006 and I only missed two days because I was burning with a fever. It helped me a lot. It was where I vented all of my frustrations. It was where I cursed, cried, screamed, ranted, went ballistic, and laughed my heart out.
    There was only a little more than five months recorded in that notebook, but I never knew a lot of things could happen in only that span of time. Or maybe I just really have an eventful year this time around. Still, when I read that notebook, I couldn't help but chastise myself for not starting sooner. It took a New Year's resolution to actually make me sit down and just write what went on during the day, although I did start earlier by a few days. Just excited I guess.
    I wonder what would happen if someone finds out about that notebook. They would find out how much I resent my parents, how much I think the weather (yeah, boring) is really getting hotter than hell these days, they would find out how I have a death wish on one of my former professors. Please, the world doesn't need him. And they would find out how confused I am with my feelings for my best friend. You must be thinking 'uh oh, here it comes.' But I really am confused. A lot of stories would tell me that I'm in love, but how would I know what love is? I have never been serious with anyone before. A lot of times I ask myself if I love him but the only answer I could come up with was 'I don't know.' Not yes. Not no. But I don't know.
    Got sidetracked there for a while. I was talking about the damn notebook. A lot of people would probably hate me if that notebook would ever become public because I wrote my feelings about them as I honestly could. It's not supposed to be known anyway, after all, it's a private property. It's just that recently, I have reason to believe that someone is going through the things in my room including that notebook. Or maybe I'm just a little paranoid. But I did wrote in that notebook, "I hope whoever other than me is reading this would fall down the stairs." So far, nobody has.
  20. R.J.

    By A Hair

    By R.J.,

    After lunch at school, I decided to go to the mall. I haven't been there in a while. The last time I was there I was working in one of the fastfoods there.
    So I spent some money in the arcades. Soul Calibur, to those who are curious. On the other side was a guy who has long black hair, probably grown his hair playing there because I did my damnedest to kick his ass. And mother, I finally did after losing a game! The guy was using Astaroth and I used Siegfried both games. I was patting myself on the back and silently goading that hair-brained dude. I think I infuriated him. BECAUSE. After knocking him out, I kept kicking him. His character, Astaroth, I mean. With my character, Siegfried. So there I was thinking he's gonna use Astaroth again, but no. He uses Voldo and he didn't let me hit him even once. He didn't even give me a round! I mean, come on, it's just a game. No need to get pissed off. So I looked around, hoping maybe nobody saw what happened.
    But there was a crowd behind me. Damn, I forgot it's Saturday.
    You goddamn hairbrain! You embarrassed me! I'll teach you! ROAR!
    So I chose Hwang. I decided to take the edge off of me. Play around first. My heart was still beating wildly. I'll let it settle first. Predictably, I lost. The next game, I chose Siegfried again. Hey, I can't help it if I play my best using him. Get ready for me, dude. I'm gonna crush you! I thought I was gonna have a heart attack. I already lost two rounds to him! One more lost round and I'm a goner! There's no way I'm going out of there a loser. I was thinking of paying someone to pull his hair while I played the third round. That'll give me a big advantage. But I thought, cheap tricks, I'm not one to use cheap tricks. Concentrate. Back. Forward. B. Oh my god, he's gonna do it again! G. G. G. G. Whew! He almost got me there. Take this! Forward BK. Off you go! RING OUT!!! I won! I fucking won round three! Two more rounds! Sigh... two more rounds. I won't lose. I won't lose. Concentrate. Concentrate. Round 4, Fight! Fast Forward YOU WIN! Whew! One more round... I got your moves, you hair, I know what to do with you! Haha! You can't seriously try that again with me. Take this! This... and this... this... and this. Come on, don't be so stubborn. Lose. Let me win. I mean, I'm gonna win. You're gonna lose. Take this! Oh yeah!
    YAAAH! KNOCK OUT! YOU WIN! YEEEEEEES! HAHA. I WON THE GAME.
    Here. DOWN K K K K K K. Haha. Doesn't matter if you're down already. I'm still gonna kick you. Loser!
    NEW CHALLENGER! Ha! Wanna try again to beat me, huh?
    I looked at the crowd behind me. Finally, my eyes settled on a guy. "Hey, man, you wanna play?" I asked and he nodded. I stood up from my chair. "Here. Kick his ass. Bye!" I made eye contact with hair brain and flashed him a smirk. Kiss my ass, dude. You can't defeat me! Bye! I waved at him and he actually waved back. Ha! Grow some more hair, you! I'm not gonna let you beat me again. Your last memory of me would be me kicking your ass. Barely. But still, I won. By a hair.
  21. R.J.

    Here Goes Nothing

    By R.J.,

    Nothing. Absolutely nothing happened today. It's the first day of classes here in the Philippines, my first day as a third year college student, and there were no professors today. NOT ONE of them went to any of my class after I made an effort to show up. But they were there. I mean, I saw a lot of classes going on with their professors right there, but nobody showed up in mine. Just how fucked up is that?
    I was kidding. I didn't mean any of that. Of course, I love doing nothing. Haha. Did the planets all lined up or something? I must have done something right to have this kind of day while the others all suffer in their classrooms.
    I saw a few of my acquaintances. Talked a little with some, ate with some, walked around the campus with some... but after a few hours of doing nothing, it got boring. Yeah, a boring day it was what with nothing at all to really spark any excitement. The day merely postponed the inevitable "first day" for me.
    So there. A few words about how the day went on my side of the planet... which basically told you nothing.
  22. R.J.

    A Good Place

    By R.J.,

    It's a been a while - three years! - since I last logged in, and I haven't written much since then too. The biggest reason was that back then my computer crashed. I never thought it would which was why I never had any backups. The whole time, I was like "what about this story" and "what about that story". But I'm past the crushed phase now. So. Moral is, save backups of your works.
    I found the drive to start writing again, even though I'm busier this time around. I have always wanted to write anyway. It's just that some circumstances inspire you and some don't. Of course, every now and then, a poem finds its way out. Stories, though, are a different, er, story, since most of them need planning and plenty of thought.
    The readers helped too. I still get emails from time to time about stories I had written a long time ago, and it's unbelievable how warm it made me feel just knowing my stories are still being read. Made me feel immortal.
    Unfortunately, In a World of Fools, the story I was writing back when I "disappeared" without explanation, would have to stay shelved for a while. I would still continue writing it, but probably after I finish writing the thing I'm working on right now. (This is assuming a future reader would find this blog, as I do get asked about it in some emails.)
    Anyway, levelheadedness is a good place to be in.

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