Category Archives: Weird

Reacquaintance

The place was filled with people as he went in. Not his usual scene, but this was his regular spot to go to, especially on nights when he needed to. It took some time for him to squeeze past the crowd which was packing the entrance hallway, ignoring all of the flirty or whimsical looks that came his way. He managed to make his way to the bar area, where he’d already given up hope beforehand of finding a seat where he could just mind his own business.

Amidst the noise and the music, he heard an all too familiar voice on top of it: “I HAVEN’T SEEN THOSE PRETTY EYES IN A WHILE!” He looked at the bar and he saw the bartender looking back at him with a smile. All he can manage back was a smirk; and looked around him, seemingly describing the unusual packed crowd and how surprising the situation is. She motioned him to head to the other end of the bar in the middle of serving drinks to customers. He eventually got there, where surprisingly, one barstool was empty. He finally sat down, much to his relief.

“Hey, Corrine,” was all he can say as the bartender arrived. “Hey there, yourself. Long time,” she replied.

“Yeah, it’s been a while. Though the last time I was here, you weren’t,” he said. “Your father was manning the tap,” he added.

“He’s on vacation, probably somewhere south,” she said. “Been running the place for about a week now. But it’s good to see you here.”

“You’re not looking bad yourself,” he replied back. “How long has it been, three, four years?,” he asked.

“More like five, I guess,” she answered. “I think It was just after that…,” then she suddenly stops, realizing she shouldn’t continue.

“Hey, no, that’s fine. It’s okay,” he said, breaking the awkwardness between them. “Don’t worry about it. It has nothing to do with you. If anything, you were one of the first ones to come see me with your Dad, remember? So it’s good,” he reassured her.

“But still, that’s something I think I’ll never forget,” she says back.

“Yeah, well, things have been a bit better since then. Your Dad helped get me through the months after that. Me coming here regularly was sort of like, therapy.”

There was a moment of pause where all both of them can hear are just the music and the crowd partying it up. She snapped out of her momentary awkwardness and asked, “like I said, it’s good seeing you here. Now what can I get you?”

He looked at her with a sheepish grin, unsure of whether he wanted to tell her. “Look, I thought your father’s here. I’m not quite in a good place right now and I was hoping he’d be back there,” he finally said.

Corrine leaned back, her mouth was slightly opened with shock, and said, “wait, you’re not here for a session, aren’t you? Please tell me that you’re not here for that.”

“Wait, how’d you know about that?!,” he surprisingly asked.

“My Dad told me everything about three years ago,” she answered. “How you’d come here and ‘do your business’ with those ‘sessions’ just to keep you grounded. He even taught me how to make it up,” she added.

“What? No, no, no… why? Why would he do that?” he muttered to himself as he pounded his fist at the bar.

“Because he had to,” came the swift response from Corrine. “He knew he wasn’t going to be around forever, and he doesn’t trust anyone, so he decided to teach me how to do it. Believe me, it was something I didn’t want to learn, but knowing it’s for you, and how you meant, and still mean to our family after all you’ve done for us, I had to. I just had to.”

“Oh, man…,” was all he could say. The past few weeks were a hard struggle for him. He tried to do the best he can and put on a brave or happy face, but it was already taking a toll on him. Going to that place for a session was a hard enough decision to make; but he knew he had no other option.

“Look, just tell me what you need and I’ll make it happen. And I swear you won’t be bothered,” she tells him.

“Look around you,” he replied. “It’s a packed house. How is that even possible?”

“You think my Dad didn’t go through all the possible scenarios with me?”

“Did he?”

“That and more,” she said confidently.

Resigned to his fate, he heaved out a sigh. “Alright then,” he started. “I’ll have a double.”

“Oh wow, a double. Really?,” she asked, surprised at the request.

“Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t in a good place, so yes, a double,” he firmly replied.

“Alright, pretty eyes. Be right back with your double,” she said as she walked away with a wink to him.

If anything, the crowd and music seemed to get louder while he waited for her to come back. He doesn’t know how everything will go down in this kind of environment; it’s as if it was a sign for him to turn back. But mentally looking back at the last few weeks, he hasn’t felt that way in a long time. He needed this.

Another few minutes passes by, and then she comes back, clutching a tray with both hands. On the tray sits four medium-sized shot glasses, all filled to the brim with a different-colored drink. She sets the tray down carefully and places the drinks in front of him one by one.

“Here’s your double,” she says, somehow admiring the arrangement she made.

“What’s this for?,” he asked, pointing at the shot glass containing a grayish liquid.

“Oh, that one’s for me, in case I need to get you out,” she replied.

He looked at her with a smile. “Your Dad really taught you everything, huh?”

She smirked back and said, “go do what you have to do. Like I said, no one will bother you.”

“Thank you,” was all he could say as she turned around to serve another round of customers at the bar. He looked at the drinks in front of him, held the light-reddish one, breathed a deep sigh and said, “here we go” as he downed it.

At first, nothing happens. The crowd and the music just kept on going. His head was down, eyes are closed. Then, he felt a slow build of euphoria as the beat of the music was seemingly becoming more intense and felt good to his ears. It’s as if the volume was being turned up gradually, but he just kept on lightly bobbing to it.

Then suddenly, silence. Deafening silence.

He stopped tapping his fingers to the now vanished music. He opened his eyes slowly, and gradually raised his head. All he saw was an empty bar, an empty establishment. It was somehow bright, but there seemed to be no light source. He looked around. He’s still at the bar, alright. But it was devoid of any living soul except his.

As he took a deep breath, a dark, low-pitched, devilish slow chuckle interrupted the piercing silence.

“I’ve been expecting you,” came a ghastly voice afterwards.

(to be continued)

Creatives & connections

To end my four-day holiday weekend, I was in the middle of writing a story when I suddenly hit a brick wall. I couldn’t creatively continue, or was not quite satisfied with the direction the story was going despite knowing what the plot was. And to think that I’ve had that plot running through my head since the beginning of last week. I did save it as a draft though; but based from experience, me saving drafts of what should be blog entries would never end up seeing the light of day (hence I don’t do drafts).

I then remembered something I saw on Instagram during breakfast today that woke me up better than the mug of coffee I was having. It was posted by none other than Miss Lea Salonga (my childhood crush, who I still have the same up to this very day), and it spoke about creative people. And I guess it directly reflects what happened as I was writing earlier. Allow me to share that here:

“Artists are not like athletes. We cannot win gold. We cannot ‘beat’ other creatives. We cannot come first. Sport is objective. Our craft is subjective. Creating (something) to ‘be the best’ is a waste of energy. Instead, create to connect to the people who need you. Because they’re out there. Create in your way, because there is no right way. Take the pressure off, and focus on your unique brand of magic.”

A lot of people have told me to make money off my blog. Or to be a writer (or at least a contributing writer). And I tell them the same thing time and again: I do not like to be bound or pressured by deadlines with the stuff I write or want to write. I won’t be able to write or create something that’s time-bound. It’s just not me. I write when I feel like it, not when I have to or out of necessity. If you’re thinking of telling me, “then how come it works for others? Maybe you’re just not trying hard enough,” then please don’t tell that to me in person. Not if you want to continue breathing; figuratively speaking. First off, I’m not “them,” and I go back to what I said earlier about me and deadlines. Secondly, I’m at the point in my life that I don’t care what other people think of me personally, or my blog. If you like the stuff I write, thank you. If not, I couldn’t care less and will still sleep soundly. So by them “forcing” me on how to do my hobby is an imprint of my size 10.5 foot on their face waiting to happen. Again, figuratively speaking.

Does that mean what I write is not open to be critiqued? No, by all means, go for it. I even encourage comments. I provide my own comments and opinions to others’ written work too when I feel like it. But here’s the thing with those: they’re subjective as well. The writer, author, or creator should never, ever be personally bound by those comments. What I’m seeing nowadays is creatives are easily getting influenced by the audience through comments. And it’s sad when a good writer starts off well, but changes the style because those who see their work “suggest” to do so in order to be more “well-accepted.” The second half of the above-mentioned quote has been my guiding principle when I write. My entries don’t suit you? Then you’re not my audience. Don’t tell me to change my writing style just so a group or majority can relate to it, or be more “mainstream.”

In closing, I’d like to continue focusing on that second half of the quote. Like sport, majority of what we do these days is purely objective. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. What does, though, is focusing on it way too much that it’s taking away our connections with people; sometimes even those close to us or who we care about. Covid has already done a masterful job of severing human personal interaction, so why add to it? It’s not about lessening the objectives or objectivity; there will always be solutions to that. But people need people, now more than ever. Improve your human connections. You may not always eye to eye with each other on certain things, but remember that there’s always agreeing to disagree; and more importantly, respecting one’s perspective.

I write the things I write because it’s an expression and extension of who I am; and I know there are individuals out there in the world–no matter how little in number–who can relate. I may not know them, but through what I write, connections can be established. It may not be personal, but just having that connection is enough. And I value that pretty highly. Would I be wrong in saying that it’s probably what the world needs to start valuing that in the same light? I leave it up to you.

It’s now four minutes before September begins. Here in the Philippines, that only means one thing. No, it’s not related to that Green Day song.

Have a good month ahead, everyone.

shorty

There are days when everything goes well.  There are days when Murphy’s Law is in effect.  There are days when it seems like a bipolar of emotions just runs through you.  There are days when you seem and feel untouchable.  There are days that just go by steadily.  There are days when you’re just not in the mood for anything.  There are days that no matter how everything falls apart, you rub it off and tread on.

And then there are days like this one.

For sure it’s not a combination of any of the above-mentioned stuff; but rather this deep, overwhelming, mind-numbing, deafening feeling of…  nothing.  A vast void of in-echoing emptiness.  You literally feel it inside; or rather, don’t.  It’s weird.  It’s like being blind, deaf, strapped in a straitjacket, yet able to scream your lungs out; but no one takes notice.  It’s like standing on the edge of something you can’t see, or falling, floating and being still all at the same time; or something heavy is being pressed on your chest and doesn’t seem to stop.

And yet once you somehow manage to get a grip on it, you’ll realize that you’d want to get away and disappear from everyone for a while (or maybe longer…  probably even not come back anymore); and again, no one would ever notice.

Come to think of it, that’s not such a bad idea after all.  Maybe only then would I find the same feeling of peace I felt during the times I was with the last person whose smile made me definitely and finally stop what I was searching for.

Or maybe I’m just in the middle of a bad dream.  But how can it be a dream when I wake up and things are the exactly same?

Your guess is as good as mine.

Rant of a casual fan

Last time I checked, we’re living in the 21st century.

Last time I checked, we’re living in a society that respects freedom of speech, religion, press, and choice.

And last time I checked, we’re living in a world where RESPECT is given to everyone who has different beliefs; ergo, live and let live.

Then why are there still groups of people who think, believe, and act that they are the ones who know better and force feed you into accepting that they are right and you are wrong?  Was time travel already invented that I didn’t know about and had people from ancient times transported into the present?

Yes, I’m talking about all the unwarranted attention about the two-night concert of one Lady Gaga starting tomorrow.  Apparently, some religious nut-jobs are trying to stop the so-called “devil incarnate” from performing for all her die-hard and casual fans; all because of one song that has lyrics they deemed “blasphemous” and “satanic.”

All because of one song?  Are you serious?  How may hits has this artist produced?  How many albums did she sell?  And you’re up in arms over ONE song?

I must admit I’m not one of her die-hard fans.  I wouldn’t even call myself her casual fan.  Heck, I only have some of her songs on my iPod (around five, I think).  And I don’t even listen to those songs on a regular basis.  But I respect what this artist has done.  She has that charisma and talent that captured audiences worldwide.  Some are even labeling her as the new Madonna.  And yet for all her accomplishments, these blinder-covered, attention-hungry religious groups choose to label her as evil, adding that she is a “very bad influence” to whoever listens to her songs.

I am also a Catholic.  B0rn and raised.  And being one, let me quote one of the more memorable lines in the Bible for me, which was said by Jesus himself:  “whichever one of you has committed no sin may throw the first stone.” (John 8:7).  These people condemning Lady Gaga are so quick to judge that they forget to look within themselves.  Yes, I have also seen the lyrics of the controversial song, and yes, I agree that it puts a negative reference on Jesus as well.  But here’s the thing:  that’s just one person.  Do you really believe that her fans will put to heart what those lyrics say?  If so, then there’s something really wrong with you.  You call yourselves religious, yet you do not have faith in other people in making the right decisions for themselves.  That also means you do not trust the institutions that teach what is right and wrong.  It is in these absurd moments that sometimes, I feel ashamed to be somehow religiously associated with those people.  Listening to one song does not make one instantly evil as much as listening to a different song does not make one instantly a saint.

The calls for canceling her concert are outright stupid.  Remember, it’s just entertainment.  Pure and simple.  It’s no different from what we watch on TV or in the movies.  Why don’t they get as much attention as Lady Gaga is getting?  What these groups are doing is suppression of freedom of speech.  Yes, we understand your concerns and reasoning behind it.  But accord the concert producers, paying patrons and fans the same respect.  If you still believe that listening to her and being a fan of hers will lead one straight to hell, then so be it.  It is their choice, not yours.  I’m not being indifferent, it’s called respect for the choices one makes.

Yet sadly, respect is always preached, never practiced…  at least by them religious fanatics.  That’s why they belong in ancient times in the first place.