A Night Owl's Musings in the Sun

The Confused Night Owl
image courtesy of clipartof.com

I don’t know what to do when the sun’s up.

Today I woke up half an hour past five AM. Usually at this hour, my body clock would tell me I should get some shut eye or I should be very sleepy which will indicate that, at the very least, I would be off to dreamland soon. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been struggling to keep my body clock in order—to have a normal, constant bed time and consequently a rather expectant time to wake up. But sleep always eludes me. Eversince I’ve worked the night shift from my previous job, I had never been often awake to see the sunrise or watch the morning news. Lord knows I wanted to change that. I’ve manipulated my sleeping patterns, the time I go to bed, even my bed itself so that I can have a normal bedtime like everybody else. As much as I want to maintain order in this aspect, I simply can’t. I maybe suffering clinically from a sleep disorder for all I know but I could never sleep at night. I always sleep when the sun’s up and wake up when it’s dark. So overtime, I’ve come to accept that I’m a night person and I eventually embraced that. Waking up at night seems to be part of who I am.

But today’s different. I finally managed to wake up in the morning.

Tajo Chronicles: A Reprise (Part 3)

Episode Three - Goodbye.

I am practically running because I'm starting to get late for our dinner. I don't want to keep you waiting. I'm sure you want this done and over as much as I do.

“Are you mad?”, you ask without so much of a hi or a hello as I'm settling in my seat. 

You came to the place ahead of me. It's the same pasta restaurant where we had dinner that night I officially became your boyfriend. As I look in the neon sign and that red plaid table cloth, a feeling of familiarity creeps in. You even managed to get reservations to the table where we had dinner the last time, the exact same one outside. I can't help but notice the aroma of fresh pasta cooking and the smell of the outside air—a combination of smoke and monsoon breeze signifying the much awaited break from the long dry spell. On top of the array of indistinct smells is the sound of distant traffic of the metro. All of them, sight, sound and smell are mere repetitions of memory. Yet unlike before, we are sitting here under different circumstances and with different emotions. This is certainly a bad case of déjà vu.

The Long Long Journey Into Turning Silver

PROLOGUE: 

I decided to celebrate my twenty-fifth birthday a little differently this time. It's very traditional, almost cliche, for one to spend every birthday with his friends or family--eat themselves full or drink themselves wasted every year. And being an occasional social conformist, I am no exception to the birthday paradigm. But this year, I decided to celebrate me turning silver using a different approach. There are certain ages that you really have to celebrate as if they are milestone achievements and for me, turning 25 is one of those. After all, you only get to be silver once. I feel I am *officially* an adult. Gone are the days when I can easily blame youth for poor decisions and irrational judgments. I'm no longer a kid, that's for certain, but appearing like a kid is a whole different story.

The inspiration came to me a few days back. After a few shots of  Don Enrique Tequila (the 750 mL which I have yet to finish) I suddenly had an epiphany. It's amazing how alcohol, although responsible for most broken noses and bar fights, can sometimes spark a stroke of genius. Since I have been pondering on the thought on how to celebrate my birthday differently this year without spending too much, I realized that in order for me to fully understand what it takes to be twenty-five, I have to go back. I have to go back to being twenty-four, twenty-three, eleven, and so on. So I decided to put on a little adventure trip to revisit the places that has the most memories. Memories--childhood memories, youth memories, yuppie memories, the good and the bad and the ugly. Just like any other nostalgic sentimental young man out there, a lot of places have become part of my memory bank but I narrowed the list to twenty five, for obvious reasons, and I wanted to finish the journey before the day ends. 

So, I decided I'm not going to spend anytime with my friends or family on my birthday. That day will be a special bonding time with myself, an alone time, a soul search if you may. I'm going to visit the 25 Places I love the most.

My Birthday Greetings

Since I have a habit of making non-traditional birthday greetings for my close friends, they decided to return the favor. Below are three of  the most creative (and my most favorite) birthday greetings I received from my friends.

My Surprise Birthday Cake :)

The Catholic Trademark - A Response to a Satirical Article

The sacraments, the prayers, even the bread and wine have no holiness or power unless properly franchised by the Catholic™ Church.

-Cebu Archbishop Jose Palma, President of CBCP Commission on Franchising and Life (COFAL)

The above quote is from an article denoting the recent attempt of the Catholic Church to trademark the term “Catholic™”. Apparently one has to be careful now from using the term haphazardly as he will become liable for intellectual property infringement if he uses the term without care, or without the proper notification to CBCP.  The above quote strikes me as a severe form of hypocrisy and it well suggests arrogance. It puts Catholicism above all other religions. To say that other forms of prayers and religious rites not preceded by the Catholic™ Church not "holy" is morally wrong. And to use the word “franchise” in the same context as with the words “sacraments” and “holiness” suggests lack of tact and insight from the one who said it.

Of Lone Pair Electrons, French Films and Being the Fifth Wheel

The Lone Pair Electron -
available yet  has no one to bond with

Last night, as I went out with a couple of my friends and their partners, I was reminded of the concept of “Lone Pair Electrons” during my college chemistry days. In its simplest terms, lone pair electrons are those electrons which, although readily available, are not bonded with other atoms—hence the title “lone” in their name. ­­­­­­ As they exist alone in conformational space, they are like the mavericks of chemical structures. It made me think that in the macroscopic real life, lone pair electrons are in a way, like the token single friends who are reluctantly tagged along when someone goes out with his or her partner. Although not romantically bonded with any other individual, they are crucial in holding the composition of their respective groups together when going out. Being the only single person in our group last night, I felt like the lone pair electron of my social clique’s chemical structure.

What I Learned (or Not) in College – A Retrospect

A few years ago, I entered college with a dream of becoming a doctor.  I can still remember the exhilaration I felt almost eight years ago, when I received the news that I was accepted into one of the top universities in the country. It was surreal then as it is now. I was dead set on someday donning a white laboratory coat, stethoscope slung around my neck and a matching name plate affixing “MD” after my surname. That was my dream—and I finally had a ticket of achieving it.

Counting Sheeps

Five in the morning and wide awake.

Enveloped in darkness.

Small drops of rain outside yet no breeze.

None today. 

None tonight.

It is as humid as with the afternoon sun.

I perspire.

The gentle ramblings of the fan, steady and soothing,

as it kisses the heat off my moist skin.

In the still blackness I see nothing

Why I Say Yes To Divorce

While reading my daily dose of news, I came across one article that quoted Representative Rufus Rodriguez of Cagayan de Oro on the legalization of divorce:

 “[If divorce is legal] Children will grow up with only one parent. That’s the worst punishment we can give to our children.”

It is in fact a heartless punishment to let a child growp up with only one parental figure. Kids should be reared and nurtured by two people: primarily, a father and a mother. That’s how it's always been and that’s how it should be.

Tajo Chronicles: A Reprise (Part 2)

I opened the door that leads to my refuge.

As I walk inside my small, cramped bedroom, I see that things are in the usual disarray as I left them yesterday. My clothes are still scattered on the floor and my old books are still arranged chaotically in one side of the room. My tangled bed is still exactly the same. Everything is unchanged as I left the house.

I am still the same, I suppose.

Or am I?

  I plunged myself to bed eyes closed and recalled the night that was and how it made all the difference in the world.

Episode Two - The Night That Was 

My Improvised Friday Night Clubbing

Ugh, it’s a Friday night and I can’t go out. Apart from being too lazy to travel a good hour to get to the clubbing spots, I’m flat broke these days. And when you see your friends’ Facebook updates saying how excited they are to go out, or when they send you SMS invites and you reply that you can’t tag along, it takes frustration to a whole different level.

Being the type of person I am, I am not to be outdone. I decided to make my own clubbing experience tonight in the comfort of my own bedroom.  So I gathered what was necessary, locked the door, took off my shirt and enjoyed myself to my own version of Friday night clubbing - home edition.

The Improvised Clubbing Set-up

Bleed

Tajo Chronicles: A Reprise (Part 1)

Episode 1: Starfish and Snowman at the Movies

I can’t help but notice myself smiling as I hold on to the railings of the train. While my body moves along with every vibration, halts and motions of this silver carriage, I feel the beat of my heart racing as I come closer to my destination. I keep on telling myself to pull it together but anticipation floods over my being.  I feel my limbs trembling, beads of perspiration start to appear on my forehead as I stare on each sign that tells me I’m becoming one station closer to where you are. They are like pale ominous signs of impending doom, ghostly and eerie; but in this case I remind myself that they are bringers of something good. Those station signs bring me closer to you. My tall, thin frame gets squished and shoved by the numerous passengers boarding and getting off the train but I don’t care. I just keep my stare focused on those ethereal plastic signs. At this very instance nothing else matters:  just you, me and those signs.