Time Turner Number 2: *Mercy, Mother, Mercy

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Time Turner Number 2: *Mercy, Mother, Mercy

October 9, 2008

My mom is about to enter the asylum.

She is beyond my comprehension and I don’t think I can stand her going ballistic every now and then. I am already bloody insane and if she, herself, hops aboard the neurotic crazy label, then I’m certain things won’t be going to be nice and easy in our own little dwellings. Magnetic fields of the same signs repel each other and two negatives–me and my mom–dont actually arrive at a positive result, thereby inadvertently defying the laws of physics.

I have an idea why she acts like Miriam D nowadays. And the reason also begins with M. M as in Money… Yes, Virginia, money is driving her into this state. Or more appropriately, the lack of it. My mom has suffered the tremendous low and it’s making her abnormal. She had been jobless since God knows when, hopped from one pathetic unstable job to another, started a sari-sari store and forced to close it just the same because the sales just inevitably leaked out of the kaput stall like a running water, even wore Mary Magdalene’s robe and loaned some doe to almost any single being she knew out in the street.

Now, she is twiddling her fingers in the hope that the annoying mannerism will bring her a switched-on lightbulb in her head. As of this moment, she is a nomadic agent of some goddamn loan company, tirelessly roaming the streets to look for clients who want to borrow money, promising heaven and earth, sweettalking anyone who would care to listen about her current preoccupation. Sometimes, a number would listen, many of them actually interested, but among the dozens she has submitted in the head office for credit investigation, only one or two would get the loan approval.

So what do you expect from this kind of job where your take-home pay depends upon the number of freakin’ persons you submit, who should have a business, a house and lot, a car, a tricycle, or any other collateral in order to get the OK signal? If you’re a middle-aged woman who happens to be a single parent with two bright (ahem!) kids in college, the elder one about to graduate and the other entering her upperclassman year, you can readily put two and two together and take the conclusion that the equivalent of your almost-night-and-day sales talking out there isn’t enough to cover the family pie chart of expenses. And to think that she’s a Business Ad graduate from one of the more respectable universities in Manila.

She’s had jobs, decent ones, before this sickening dilemma and when I remember those times, they never fail to put a smile in my face. Those were the days, the happier times when every 15th and 30th day of the month, my mom and Sean and me would go to the city, dine at a fastfood restaurant, and just have some guilt-free fun in the mall the whole afternoon. When I reminisce the time when mom was working a 9-to-5 job, wearing corporate clothes, walking in stilletoes, and dabbing her face with some respectable make up, I can’t help but sigh and say, gawd, I miss those times.

My mother is the living testament of the old story about the boy who lost a horse because he wanted something better. (If you don’t know what the helluva story am I talking about, just try to get the drift.) In my mom’s case, the horse was her nice-paying bank job here and the something better part is the dinar currency she can get from a land beyond this border. After ten years or so, she went home heralded as one of the new heroes of this country but in shortage of all the moolah she was supposed to earn outside.

Oh, yes, that was how all this little money mayhem started and I really thought that the shortest way to fatten your emaciating back-pocket is to raid the Western lands with your distinct Filipino labor. (That doesn’t deter me, however, from going to Rowling’s situs in the near future…haha…Pounds, baby, pounds…)

So nowadays, I’m the canine to my mother’s feline existence. We shoot each other with invectives almost every single day, some of them as potent as sending the most wicked teacher-villain in my school to slopping state. She starts her verbal rage about how bloody bastard I am in speaking my thoughts infront of her, about how all these parental retaliation will boomerang one day when I’m old and gray and already a doting parent to my own son, and I don’t give a damn (because I’m certain that when I have my own family, I will give them all they need..nay, even their insatiable wants). I still answer back even if one of the Ten Commandments is “Honor thy father and thy mother.” I still speak up my mind because I think it’s better for her to hear what I would like to say to make some sense out of her, about how she seems to be so incompetent in this folk tag, about the way she seems to bungle on some of the most important things we’re all expecting her to accomplish.

My mother is a good mother, and I have nary an argument in that, but what I find ludicrous is how sloppy she deals with some tough things that require clear-cut decisions. Perhaps because my mother is only learned on the maternal things-to-do list. Maybe because at the time my half-genes donor abandoned us, she wasn’t prepared, even trained, to act like a tough mama. Tough as in earning a living for the whole three mouths, religiously acing through Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, rearing the children like Marcos in his Martial Law era, or making a hard-headed son behave like a marshmallow.

I don’t know if I have to be hateful about the way she handles all the family matters. I know I shouldn’t. And I know, deep down inside, I can’t. Because she’s my mom, she’s the reason why I’m here existing, slowly beginning to be realistic and trashing-slash-shunning the youth idealism outright, currently breathing foul language and foul thoughts to this endearing (!) world. I have never greeted her Happy Birthday (she’s blowing another candle when October falls her last leaf) or Happy Mother’s Day (I know this one’s in May) and while I’m in this rotting cynical mantra, I know that I won’t ever. I have never kissed her or hugged her (ugh!) or even said Barney’s magic words to her. I don’t recall doing all of these mushy acts to her and I think depriving her of these things is not synonymous to hatred. (Before labeling me as the ultimate “prodigal son,” allow me to utter my saving grace that I take the “mano” before leaving and upon arriving home.)

I know that I will forever be grateful to my mother. Even if she gives me an allowance that is so Third-world you couldn’t even afford to have the luxury of a two-day Unlimited texting. Even if she makes a fool out of you because she doesn’t say she’s given you the day’s allowance from your own pocket, cautiously getting your hard-earned bucks while you’re still asleep. Even if I recall her reducing to bits and ashes my first Jollibee wristwatch because Sean wanted it and I don’t want to give it. Even if she almost always leaves us stuck in our tuition fee problems, of which my sister has always been the piteous victim. Even if Sean and I can remember her shortcomings more often than her plus parent points. Even if I know she’ll end up at the bottom pit if there’s a Mrs. Single Parent contest. Even if she failed miserably, in our standards, rearing her children. Even if she’s so trying hard to be a perfect mother. For she is my mom and at the end of the day, the thing that will most leave an indelible mark in my short-term-memory-loss-suffering skull is her triumph of overcoming the adversities, the obstacles in becoming the best person that she could be so that she can perform her duties to both me and Sean.

My mother’s name is Mercy.

*One of my numerous emo posts. I remember writing this when I was really fed up with my mom’s way of dealing with our pathetic lives. I thought it was the last single straw. Thought of running away, leaving everything behind, moving to some faraway, gawddamn place I’ve never been to like Bataan or Siquijor and start living a new life incognito. It never happened. Turned out I had a lot of “last single straws” and a greater love for her and my sister.

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ain't this friggin' narcissistic, angst-ridden bastard cute?

A lot of people tell me I’m special. Of course I freakin’ am! You don’t have to stress the obvious. That’s being redundant.

I’m a friggin’ yuppie in his early twenties but looks even younger than his age, sometimes mistaken for a scrawny 17-year-old virgin and as such, I have decided to become eternally twenty to be on the safe side. I am slaving the ephemeral call center whoring job as of the moment but one day, I will become a fuckin’ proud CPA topnotcher. Being a perfectionist who does not conform to stereotypes and anything commonplace, I abhor senseless, pointless discussions by nitwits but adore intellectual discourses from remarkable geniuses in the same league with the caliber of my neurons and synapses.

I like wearing black shirts even if black is not a color and I love drinking Red Horse booze with pineapple syrup or GSM Blue enhanced by acerbic Sprite when the night is hugged by penis-shrinking coldness in Baguio. I am left-handed and I like to draw but that does not mean I am dumb at Math. Along with English, Math was one of my favorite subjects in high school. I love to watch anything shocking, gross and bizarre; in fact, I find scenes of decapitated heads and messy, blood-soaked innards oddly engaging. I think I'm eclectic.

When my half-Chinese dad chickened out, I got robbed of my childhood phase real quick and was forced to live out the family man title. That was also the time that I bade goodbye to the princely way of living in Manila and said hello to the clusterfuck pauper proletariat life in the province. Being the smartass that I am, I excelled academically and graduated half-wishing I had a worthy adversary in the mold of Einstein or da Vinci to sharpen my not-fully-developed cranial muscles. But if you ask me of my biggest achievement so far, I would have to tell you that’s when I sent my sister to schooling and saw her taking her oath as a Certified Electronics and Communications Engineer. I chose to put my dreams in the back seat for her, you see.

When I was still in school, I thought my seatmates were drooling retards and I was an effin’ superior child unworthy to be kept inside such a fucked up pig pen. For chrissake, I deserve something far better than those freakin’ bozos! So if I could choose who I want to share the claustrophobic classroom with, I’d pick Neil Gaiman, Stephen King, JK Rowling, Jessica Zafra, Patricia Evangelista, Conrado de Quiroz, Bob Ong and Scott Garceau hands down. They’re authors, if you’re that stupid, by the way.

I do not possess the vapid handsomely looks of dumb celebrity stars (they only have the looks but they don’t have that thing in between the ears, anyway) but I am not ugly either. I think I’m cute and as in my penis, my looks could be thrown up there in the above-average file. I am narcissistic and unsurprisingly, I find satisfaction in looking at myself in mirrors. There’s one flaw in my nearly perfect personality though. I am horizontally-challenged and that actually makes me less handsome than I should be. People have been telling me that had I been given a mesomorph frame, I would surely qualify as a handsome dork. Fine, I’ll hit the gym once I find the time. But then again, I’ve always been busy.

I love writing and someday, when I’ve already reached the stars and danced under stardust sprinkles, I will write the Great Filipino Novel that will put the Philippines in the world literary map. In the meantime though, I content myself with polluting the Internet bandwidth with fuck-me-Freddy rants and unlimited R18 invectives.

I am a narcissistic, angst-ridden bastard in orgiastic moans recluse and this blog is my first attempt in realizing my idiosyncratic world domination plots. There are currently almost 6.7 billion suckers lurking out there contributing nothing to society but vomit-inducing stupidity. Most of these people are worthy to be guillotined to death for harking out such idiotic yadda yadda's.

If you believe in this horrendous truth, then join me in ridding the macrocosm of these useless, pathetic twits. If you're the twit, though, go find someone to savor your last fornication on earth and then prepare to be annihilated. The world will be a better place to live in without you, anyway.

This is my blog. You either love me or hate me. Adding me in your blog roll list is fine but don't expect that I will publish your effin' you're-going-to-hell comment. And yes, I don't do ex-links. That's being pathetic. The blogs in my blog roll are those that I peruse regularly and normally, I don't tell these people I've added them in the list. If you find that offending or for whatever reason, you feel it is an invasion of your privacy rights, just let me know. I'll scrap your site in the list real quick. Otherwise, consider it a form of flattery.

ON SECOND THOUGHT, I THINK I AM NOW WILLING TO DO EX-LINKS. ALL THESE BLOGGERS WHO WILLINGLY PERUSED THIS GOOD-FOR-NOTHING BLOG MADE ME CHANGE MY MIND. SO YES, YOU CAN NOW COMMENT USING A "NICE POST! EX-LINK?" TEMPLATE. HAPPY?

Caution: Breathing the SSDD Mantra is my idiosyncrasy in print. If you can't take the heat in this ranting oven, close the tab and go screw your next-door neighbor's wife, you pathetic little twit!

Don't say I didn't warn you...

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douche bag diatribe unlmtd.

most wanted fuck-me-Freddy's

go friggin' plagiarize others' works instead

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported License.

been harry pottered since the philosopher's and when the saga died down in deathly hallows, i got pottered just the same...sigh!

one effin' proof why pinoys are waaay more superior than their occidental brethrens in the history of friggin' humanity

shaving off the angst-ridden bastardness in me (play with my hamster using your mouse pointer)

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mai:

iloveyou. fuck me

mai:

hi pasukan mo nga ko.

toni:

gusto namin pmnta ng dasol (tambobong beach) meron bang place dun to stay overnight or any contact?

ssdd:

Damn, thank you for such strong flattery madam! You may want to stalk me still at thessddboy.com

cat:

You are so damn right. you’re extraordinarily talented.

YanaH:

oist adik!!!!!!! san ka? baket hindi ka maramdaman ng blogworld? hahahahaha

ssdd:

@vanvan & kitkat: wag mag-away…alang alang sa alaala ni master rapper kiko. mahal ko ang lahat ng bumibisita sa walang kwentang kutang ‘to. powerhugz!

~kitkat~:

@vanvan hehe kakompetensya din pla kita??? aw wlang dirty game ha…hahahhaha bsta ako lab ko c lio loco aalagaan ko sya…hndi ko sya kras mahal ko c lioloco lab ko yan mwah!!! honeykooch ko yan e ^_^

vanvan:

ngwaste ako ng golden time sa pagbabasa ng mga nakasulat dito..me lablayp ka na pala..wala ka man lang warning..bad lio loco loco..sabi ko na nga ba eh..i should be over you!!..aheks..pakiss nga..dami dami naman kasing ngkakras sau..kakaloka..

~kitkat~:

honeykooch mahilig k pla uminom??? wag ka masyado magiinum kc nakakalaki ng tyan tapos bka macra ung atay mo ^_^ paalala lng drink moderately kc lab kita mwah!! ayoko magkasakit ka dahil sa alak mwah!!! ingat k plagi ha mwah!

~kitkat~:

eneweis miss u mwah lab u!!! ingat k plagi ha ^_^ God Bless mmmmwwwaaahhhhhuuugggzzz!!!!

~kitkat~:

natutuliro knb saken hehehehe gsto ko yan pero mas gsto ko ung naiinlab kn saken hahahahhaha ang kapal ko noh dpa nmn tyu magkakilala personally..tsk panu nmn kita makikilala e wla nko sa makati pero ok lng kc maghahanap ako ng trabaho dyan dyan lng din sa makati hahahha bibili nko ng dyaryo bukas manila bulletin am shore madami dun hehehehhe kya bka magkasalabungan n ulet tyu sa daan un nga lng dko alam ikaw n pla un…hehhehehehe

~kitkat~:

ah e na layoff nko…ngayun ko lng nabsa ang powerhugz msg mo kya wla nko trabaho so sad..dko nga alam anu mararamdaman ko e nagaalala kc ako bka mauubos ko ung separation pay ko ng wla prin akong trabho hahahahha pero alam ko n madami akong pedeng patusin n trabaho kc mdami cla dyan hahahahahahha un lng e kung papatusin din nila ako dba ganun lng un hahhahaha

ssdd:

@~kitkat~: natutuliro naman daw ako sa’yo. di ko alam kung dito o sa taas na shoutbox ako magrereply. ahehehe. dayoff ko ngayon. kaya inuman galore. hehehe. recession na ba jan? tsk tsk. sana hindi ka naman matanggal. mahirap alang trabaho ngayon eh. eto ang powerhugs pang-goodluck charm! hehehe. powerhugz!

~kitkat~:

hahahahha gsto ko yan powerhugz mo yum!!! hahahahahaha kras mo pla c sara geronimo wweeee wla lng…
kmusta k nmn??? musta kn dyan sa work mo??? d2 samen e nagtatanggalan na e…tapos napanaginipan ko n nagsara na tapos ako lng daw ang hndi binayran tsk tsk tsk masakit un dba…buti nlng at panaginip lng lahat…uu nga pla mahilig kb sa computer games???

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Breathing The SSDD Mantra