The Lamentations

The constant gnashing of teeth every night, which I have consciously taken notice of even though I am subdued by the depth of slumber, made me ponder on some lengthy self issues I have been going on. Truly, this is not high time to complicate myself with psychological issues since law school barely even wants me to take a bath at morning, nor have a hearty lunch. Times like these, I should be sleeping heavily only to wake up at mid-day and start my day over again, boring my eyes until they get tired on endless pages of books and cases. But here I go, pouring some minutes of my precious 24-hour cycle to fill the void of my almost crappy blogspot.

The law school life made a mess out of me. I wake up at morning and still feeling tired, and so there was coffee. But coffee makes me jump to death even if a cat was landing slickly nearby. It felt like I was going to get a heart-attack anytime or see a ghost. Anyway, coffee seemed to be the only companion in the deep of the night, while my subjects and I are stuck with each other. To my surprise, I lost some appetite for sleeping, but I became enamored with food. I gained a few extra pounds for the past few months and whenever I see myself at the mirror naked, I felt like imagining that I’m becoming much like my father in his forties although I’m still at my early twenties!

I have issues with readiness. I always imagine flunking and waiving my first year in law school, and going back all over again. Mama was incessantly calling in to see how I do with my Persons and Family Relations, because she’d always hear me at phone ranting over it or sometimes crying. Much to my agony, and I thought she’d say it’s okay, she’ll say it’s a challenge I’ll have to take over my back if I really want to become a lawyer. Mama doesn’t say the words like she supports me, but she says it like the world is watching over me and I’d have to make it right by hook or by crook.

To cope with issues of readiness, I did what I can and spent what I have to in order to overcome them, at least psychologically. No material gets unphotocopied, and everything, including the footnotes of the cases matter. There is no indirect way to learn, other than read it in full and not piece meal. Unless time goes against me, the codal bibles save me. And if you look at my codals now, they sure look like they have wings in the form of post-its strung everywhere like a freak has rewritten every requisites of this-and-that from the book.

But if there’s anything in law school that makes it nice (at least there’s something nice to talk about), it is such of the fact that hell issues become foundations of learning and maturity. You see, I have never been this diligent all my life. Never had I. I am always reminded by a text message that Myrna used to send me. Heated gold becomes a beautiful ornament. Beated copper becomes a fine wire. Depleted stone becomes a mighty statue. The more pain you get, the more valuable you become.

Now, everytime I go to sleep, I get the feeling that I’d still gnash my teeth tonight. I get a lot of preoccupations. I sow a lot of worries for myself. And I crack my sanity in pieces. All the time. But these are the very things that keep me awake and abreast for the more coffee-zombie days to come. Rest assured, I shall become more heated, beated and depleted, but I will whine once, then go back to work again. Aja!

I could not recall having felt hatred against my parents. They are not perfect parents and neither was I a perfect child. But if there was something that is worth feeling that way, I couldn't remember a thing because I always had it at the back of my mind that they always know what’s best. They care, I don’t have the right to hate them at all.

As I would like to call it, there are times that I just feel disappointed and tormented. Not angry. Some of which are anchored to their occasional money problems, or to not allowing me to go partying with friends. We always argued about it and they always won, but I did not lose faith that I could have my own money to spend someday, or time to go partying sans the curfew. As much as possible I tried to puts things in proper perspective.


I was different when I was younger. While most children ran down houses to tease neighbourhood dogs or chase sugarcane trucks in the highway so that they could have a sweet afternoon delight gnashing with their teeth, I felt my comfort in the cloister of our own home reading Children’s encyclopedia and Greek mythology.

I soon found myself admiring Prometheus, the one that brought fire to mankind. I felt his share of injustice with the gods as he meant good intentions to the mortals. He wanted change, he wanted the better. But the gods don’t like the idea giving men a skill that will make them independent.

For the first time, I felt real anger towards my parents last month. They don’t want me working anywhere else but home. They disapproved of Manila as a baby like me would not survive.

More than anger, I felt pity to myself. I thought they could never really trust me. They think I am a threat to myself; I could not handle independence. They think I just want to break free so that I could shop my savings unwisely and party all night long. I have never felt so much distrust from two persons I look up to the most. I felt like I was ‘man’ and they were gods.

Some said that I was overreacting. It is natural for parents to be overprotective. It took them 9 months lift me in the uterus and 20 whole years to keep from any possible danger. It’s not unusual for them to fret whether I get held-up in some dark alley or get leptospirosis when I have to get my feet wet so that I could buy dinner in Manila. In fact, they were acting just fine.

God must really have plans for all of us. After a month, who would thought I will get over my depression and start being productive. Now, I keep two jobs. I work as an editorial assistant for the research journal of the SAS of the Ateneo de Davao. I also work as a research assistant for the Social Research Office of the said university. I’d like to say that I am really saving up the paper for my education in law school.

Now, I just feel delighted. From the competitive and erratic life of resumes lying in my bed, laptop open 24/7 for emails from prospective employers and thousand and one interviews, I now live a simple life. I go to work on weekdays and go home to the province on weekends so that I could spend time with family. Often, I go out with friends and meet new ones. I know that I would not be able to have time for this when law school pressure starts to kick in.

I don’t know for what reason I don’t feel anger most of the time. What I know is that I am predisposed to keep quiet when they start their own hardcore rendition of Cat Stevens’ Father and son. Let them grab the limelight while I be the audience. Mother wants to rant, father wants to occasionally swear. I’m fine with it, it’ll eventually go away.

But soon, they must have forgotten the lines that say “Just relax, take it easy.” They must have forgotten that I, too, have my share of frustrations. I don’t blame them for not asking, they also have their personal emotional strife. I thought that not feeling enraged, keeping quiet with head low is a good start. However, ultimately, it did not safeguard me from bursting.

As for me, my parents and I still fight – mostly about what kind of career I should be taking or the kind of luxuries they’re buying when they say are investments. We couldn’t help it, being family and arguing at each other so that at the end of the day we know exactly what to do. Right now, I already take part in some family decisions. Some 20 year olds like me don’t get to have it.

I guess I have the parent issues. But who doesn’t? We all have parents and most Filipino parents are really strict and hands-on. Having to argue with them and feeling anger some other time, I think, is healthy. Whether or not I can go shopping with my savings or party all night, is practically a decision I'll personally make. But having them both on dinner, laying things on the table to talk about, listening to you and most of it reprimanding after means I still respect their authority, because I know they truly have.

I do not wish that my parents let go of me. Sometimes, all it takes is a breather whenever I feel being sucked up. It’s natural for a child to feel over-loved. I still anticipate for arguments and their repetitive reminders. They are for the good.

Hide, lovely angel, take exit way

Be incarcerated in my frown of lip

And pray to him that he may

Seek me not and go in unkind grip.

Hide its rainbow in the ray of light

Be cupped like asbestos white

Only then aerate it in my slumber;

Will embrace when no longer sober.

Hide, dead hopes, in the happy song

In dark yellow dogears, laid among

Once paged in pretty climaxed stories;

That with its every end, my joy flees.

Hide, as eternally, hide your soul

And by no means reveal it to me

For when I do, I’ll be its silly fool

I’d stay there and be its enslaved wee.

So be veiled in the six feet of earth!

Be gone and dare not give birth

To pain, to grim, to mess, to sore;

Love, hide! Meet me no more.

*him refers to Greek deity Eros.

I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t grunt ‘but…” nor ask why. I just said yes, and nodded even when I meant no. And I couldn’t depart the wooden chair because I felt so heavy with shame and remorse. After that discussion, adulthood never became so vague to me I wish it wasn’t real. Or maybe it wasn’t real at all, just a petty shimmery pendant I wear around my neck to get in the flow with my cohorts—that kind of robe emperor felt he was wearing when he was naked.

Recently, my parents said no about me working in Metro Manila. I was devastated. I wouldn't survive it, they predicted.

Here’s the thing. I always had the thing for goodbyes; in fact I do well with them. I easily move on when I lose a phone, not that I don’t regret the cost of money nowadays but because I know at least I gave a stranger an advanced Christmas gift. Or take for example about a loved one; I know that they’ll be better off somewhere. Or a penny perhaps, that little penny will travel the country, or at least into new hands who knows. I always had the positive outlook for goodbyes. But well, guess what, I didn’t get it genetically.

Kindergarten reminded me of the birds. Teacher cracked up this story after siesta time when other kids were still sleepy. I don’t know for what purpose she intended to tell it, but I’m pretty sure that it now made sense to me. She told us that birds make good parents – they build nests for their young, feed them everyday, and protect them from unkind predators. But there’s one thing bird grown-ups don’t make for their young – that is the ability to fly. Surely they don’t teach chicks how to flap wings or glide in the air. In fact, biologists tell us that some parents make a risk of pushing their chicks from the nest so that they will learn how to fly. It’s nature’s way of saying that learning does not always have to be vicarious. Those chicks will learn flying the hard way.

Now, I’m twenty – fresh graduate, unemployed. I still live with my parents in our rural home. We’re not that well-off so working would I think be my next option.

It came as a shock to me when my parents expressed they want me to stay in town. It sure is a good idea, especially when I’d finally find my first job. I’d have free meals, a privilege I didn’t had when I used to live in the city as a student in the university. I’d have free rides, not that I didn’t enjoy when I used to commute. And I’d have free board and lodging. Surely, staying in town is practical decision.

But it didn’t pose much challenge on me. I soon found myself thinking how boring it would be – the usual waking up to the sound of the crow, or the same neighborhood I greet when I walk out the gate. It gave me disinterest. Soon, I’d still be sleeping all day long during weekends and whine why the town didn’t have a movie house. My mom would still be washing my clothes and ironing them, for fear I’d burn all my shirts in the ironing board. In the long run, I’d die from feeling bad about being not a responsible adult.

Here’s what I want. I want to burn egg in the pan, or dislike the taste of my coffee for putting much sugar, or wilt a few chrysanthemums in the backyard. I want to do it so badly I’d wish I’d learn to cook, make good coffee or do gardening. I want to destroy a shirt in the ironing board. I want to burn one, two, or three, before I truly learn to slide the iron well. I wouldn't be pushed to fend for myself if I stay in town. I want to make things right by knowing the wrong. I want to commit mistakes and learn from them, not with somebody laying down the moral of the story. I want the quiz first, before I learn the concepts.

I do well with goodbyes, but being independent is not the kind of goodbye that’s easy to say. In the event of parting with my parents, it implies I’d have to let go of my comfort zone – that lovely home that nurtured me well and gave me the best of the world. Nobody’s waking up baby in the morning for ready-made breakfast; I’d have to make one. Nobody’s looking out for baby while at play; I’d have to manage my own affairs now. Nobody’s feeding baby the right formula; I’d be responsible putting food in my table now. Nobody's chewing for baby before he swallows it. You see, baby has to be a man.

I appreciate the effort of my parents making things easy for me, but I think I wouldn’t appreciate adulthood if I don’t see it in its face. I can’t afford to learn the basics when I’m already forty, it’s just a pity. There's no better time than now.

Radically it may sound, but I think it’s time my parents push me out of the nest. Probably I will fall the first time and get bruised. Second time around, I might still struggle in the air. And who knows after that I’ll make my first flight to the next tree. Falling off is worth the risk. I will fall sooner or later, so that I could rise again and fly.

I pray it's for the best.

* I am obsessed with the rain. It doesn't take an Einstein to figure it out because I already made three sequel poems out of it. This is the last of the three. I like listening to its splatter and descending into the dusty ground. It reminds me a lot about barrenness and dismal, and nature's own way of tailing life into it. Then Newton rings a bell, for every action is an equal and opposite reaction. Barren, alive.

Now here's what I made out of my Easter Sunday: