How I would never have become an orphan and grow up to be a superhero

Back when I was a kid, our family moved to my grandparents in Bacolod City because my dad lost his job. Me, my mom and my elder sister stayed there for close to a year, before my dad finally got his act together and we could afford to move back to Manila. It came down to a choice, return to the big city by plane or by boat? Mom had already bought us our tickets to a Manila-bound ferry when my dad decided to splurge some dough from his first paycheck and had us fly back.

We got to Manila via plane, the boat that we were supposed to ride back sank before it hit Bacolod port.

That tale, in itself, was already quite curious and I asked tons of questions about it and if we would also have died (hundreds perished in that tragedy) if we boarded. We would not have been able to board, of course, as the ship never made it to port in the first place. But then I insisted, what would they have done if we were aboard and the ship began to sink? I will never forget my mom's answer then, "I would have drowned you first.". Gee, thanks a lot, mom!

*****

Okay, it might not be fair to have said that without the proper context. My mom had her reasons of course, which in her defense are perfectly rational.

Apparently, at the time both me and my sister were just a couple of toddlers who kept tugging at mom's apron just for the slightest second of attention that she could spare. It wasn't that she was too busy to spend time with us, but there was some sort of competition between sis and me on who was mom's favorite. Yes, selfish little brats, we were. Beyond this, there really wasn't much that we could do for ourselves. Thus, in case the boat sank, there wasn't much we could have done, so instead of us being eaten alive by sharks and suffer a childhood trauma for the next 10 seconds or so of our lives, they'd have to bite through our cold, dead bodies and leave all our happy childhood memories intact.

Didn't help, did it?

Perhaps you must also understand that our mom didn't know how to swim. In this case, with only the three of us to fend for ourselves, we would all have died anyway, so she reasons that it's better we go first and spare us further misery.

But what if someone took pity on two toddlers and saved us? Though this is not likely to happen, our mom also had a problem with this scenario. In her typical mommy paranoia, she would never entrust her kids to strangers. What if our would be rescuers were pedophiles? What if we would be sold off to slavery to cover some bet? What if we got adopted by really rich folks who would send us off to a stuffy boarding school, learn about the world at large, and we become powerful, filthy rich snobs? What if we were consumed whole by a whale, spat out in a weird and alien place and become spiritual leaders respected by all and feared by evil-doers? Or what if we survive and plot our vengeance against the evils of society, buy ourselves a cave, a really cool car and don bullet-proof superhero suits with long black capes and go after bad people? No mother would ever want this to happen to their kids, the possibility of enduring suffering without them to hold our hands through it.

*****

Often I've heard stories about mothers giving up their lives so their children might survive despite being without them, and it does sound like such a noble act. But I can't really blame my mother for thinking the way she did. It does sound practical, and I've no question that she does have our best interest at heart because she always has. It's all just a matter of values, of culture, of perspective. At any rate, I sure am glad that the point of my mom having to decide our fate at sea never did come. I would never have understood the wisdom of her drowning us to death at that age.

Come a time when I need to make such a decision, I've no idea what the heck's the right thing to do.

Bugs and bastards

There is a chance that as you are reading this, I'm laying on a hospital bed getting a massive blood transfusion. If ever I am, then I will most likely be in a flimsy gown, enjoying a sponge bath from a hot, sexy nurse who tells me that I've been a bad, bad boy in need of a spanking. Perhaps not, who knows?

The reason that a sponge bath might be forthcoming is that I got bitten. Last week, while I was chugging down a beer and enjoying one of many cigarettes that night, I felt a sharp prick on my leg. I looked down and almost fainted at the sight of the biggest friggin' mosquito I've ever seen. I swear, I thought it was a fly until I realized I was turning pale as an involuntary blood donor. I wanted to take a whack at it, but it was just so big that I was scared shitless at what it might do if I missed. Then there's the possibility that my blood would splatter everywhere, most likely on my beer, not gonna happen. After a minute or so, the thing flew off with a pint of my blood in its abdomen.

So here I am, 5 days after and there's still a big red welt where the bug stuck its proboscis (fancy word, ain't it? Thanks wikipedia!) into me. I'm almost certain that I've been infected with a myriad of diseases and my immune system is in a losing battle. I've been taking my own prescription of "antibiotics", specifically beer and rhum, but I skipped a day so I don't think it's gonna be as effective anymore. Must remember to double the dose for the next weeks to make up for it. Then again, there is just no substitute for the proven therapeutic effects of hot nurses, so I just might let modern medicine have its way with me, over and over and over again.

*****

I was waiting for a text from a friend of mine this evening, hopefully some good news on a proposal I submitted for a big project. Not wanting to take any chances, I plugged in my phone to ensure that it didn't run out of juice for that important text or call.

Now it so happened that I had to go to the toilet, and of course I couldn't take my phone with me because there was no electrical outlet there. So I sat on the can and was starting to do my business when I heard my text message tone. Could it be that message? Ok, no need to panic, I'll get to it in a bit, I thought. Then I heard the tone again, then again, then another one, that's 4 messages in a row! This was definitely news, the urgency multiplied by the number of messages I got, I had to know RIGHT NOW!

I cut potty-time abruptly (insert really gross visual here) and ran out to my phone. There weren't any new messages, not a single one. Then I hear my text message alert tone again, waitaminute, that wasn't my phone... my neighbor had the same message alert tone as I did and had his phone's alert volume waaay up. I nearly shat my shorts in anguish. (quite literally, too)

I did the only thing I could to rectify the situation, I set my alarm to our message alert tone, cranked up the volume, and had the alarm go off every 30 seconds until I could conclude my unfinished crap. That'll teach the bastard some phone etiquette, I hope.

Tubbed out

Had myself a really stressful weekend, nothing doing but work and work and work and watching some 30 Rock on my sister's laptop. Got to finish 'work-stuff' just in the nick of time Monday morning, and turned it in. Now there's nothing left to do but wait to see if anything good comes out of it.

*****

After a grueling day at work, there was no doubt in my mind that all I wanted to do was go home. I needed to relax, to get all the heavy stuff off my mind and just sit on my favorite spot on the couch and stare at the wall. Then I get home and realize that there is something horribly wrong about my apartment... it doesn't have a bath tub. There's no greater tragedy than coming home and remembering that you don't have a tub to soak all your troubles away in. What good is getting your own place for without it?!

So I just sat there on the couch, staring at a blank wall, all stressed that I can't have a bubble bath. Where else am I going to raise my rubber ducky farm? Or hack up my murder victims into itty bitty pieces without creating a mess? Are we cave men, living in a world devoid of the most basic of human comforts? Sure little kids across the world are malnourished and starving, but what good is it to feed them and make them healthy if they are to be subjected to an even crueler fate by not having their own bath tubs with hot water and bubbles?

The great ancient aqueducts of the Roman civilization were painstakingly built on the backs of captured slaves just so the citizenry could be washed clean of guilt and their enemy's blood in bath houses. I'm pretty sure Archimedes would never have solved one of his era's great problems without his tub (nor be running in the streets naked, shouting his now famous 'Eureka!'). And the Japanese would endure hours of being in alarmingly close proximity to naked strangers just to enjoy a hot bath. So why doesn't my apartment have one crummy little tub nor a jacuzzi for that matter?

So I walked over to the bathroom and made some measurements. Turns out, I couldn't fit a tub there even if I wanted to. This has to be some sort of oversight by the architect. Then I walked over to the washing machine, and no, I can't fit in it's tub either. This is quite the problem, as you may imagine.

If only I weren't as destitute as I am now, I would have forked over some cash to a nearby hotel to drown myself in suds and bubbles. In the meantime, there's really no other alternative than a cold shower.