Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Adopting a Pusakal (Or the other way around)


Last summer after spending almost two months in UP (technically in UP Hotel, I hate getting out) I went home in Dipolog and asked my cousin to get me a kitten to adopt. She said our neighbor's cat just gave birth and her human said the kittens were available for adoption.

What color is this kitten?” I asked her. She said white and orange.
Like Garfield?” I replied. She nodded.

When the kitten came it was not the color that I expected. Not Garfield at all, but the most common pusang kalye you see running across the street after getting driven out of a household. I have to admit I was quite disappointed but I dismissed the feeling since I believe racial discrimination must not apply to anyone, even cats. My aunts told me to replace it with another one. I decided not to. This kitten would do.
At that time I had no idea how to deal with a kitten. I just took out a rag, placed the kitten over it and, yes, took pictures. My cousin told me the kitten is a boy and I believed her so I named “him” Albus Albrecht Perseus Janus. That is, after the headmaster of Hogwarts, a painter, a Greek hero and a two-faced god. In short, Albie. Later I learned that Albie is a girl when a boardmate pointed it out but it was too late to change her name. She got used to it already. The last thing I'd want is a confused pet. Anyway, girls with boyish names is the fad. (Yes, I'm referring to you George.)

I was ready to take him to Iligan where I live. So I bought a box for chickens, placed Albie inside and told her,” For the rest of the trip, just imagine you're Schrodinger's cat.” She liked it. (This one is a descendant of Thomas Gray, the cat who went to Cambridge.) The bus conductor initially detested placing the box next to my seat. He said I should put it under the bus together with the cargo. But when I gave him the look that said, “ Are you crazy? You want my kitten to suffocate from inhaling carbon monoxide due to incomplete combustion of your hydrocarbon fuel?” he agreed.

In the bus, passengers cannot help but throw a quizzical look at me and the kitten in my lap. (During most of the trip I got her out of the box, it's just humane) One passenger marveled at how cute she is and said, “Ay ka-cute sa iring. Malnourished.” She said this as if malnourished is a synonym for cute then went on to stroke the cat. Still one passenger, the one sitting beside me repeatedly pointed out that Albie is a pusakal. She said pusakal a couple of times I thought she meant Albie, the pusakal of pusakals. To prevent casualties I just smiled as if saying, “Keep your opinions to yourself humans. This cat might be more intelligent than you.”


After 8 hours of travel, mostly of which the beast in my lap was asleep, we finally arrived in Iligan. While heading home with the box so proud that after thinking about it for days, I finally found a cat to adopt 8 hours away, I was welcomed by a group of feline friends available for adoption. It seems that the neighborhood has plenty of kittens to give away.

Geez, I haven't thought of that.




Sunday, August 12, 2012

JanMell Vanity Scripts #10: IN OR OUT?

You may not notice it but it is really hard to get to know someone. Well, there are some people who can get along with each other really well, instantly becoming friends the moment they see each other. But getting along well and getting to know a person are two different things. It is easy to share a good laugh and have fun. What's difficult is to be part of that person's life. 

To be part of oth
er people's lives you need more than just moments together. You need more than just shared laughter and tears, more than just constant communication or lack of awkward moments. What you need is their acceptance.

No amount of effort will do unless they allow you to be part of their world. 

And it is difficult to gain their acceptance. Some of us realize this the hard way when they suddenly find themselves out of someone's life even after sharing a part of it with each other.

You thought you were there. But sadly enough, you were never there in the first place. 

JanMell Vanity Scripts #9: NEVER TOO LATE

Until now I can still remember how at one time in my rage, I took all of his clothes out of the cabinet, stormed into the sari-sari store where he was having his drunken revelry and threw the garments on the dingy floor as if saying that we've had enough of his folly. Yes, it's perfectly fine to us for him to live with his vices and not take a single step into our home anymore. At that time I have
n't seen the expression on his face. I was blinded by my hatred.

On still another occasion, I remember that in my annoyance I hurled a glass jar at him. I missed, the glass jar shattered into pieces. 

I cannot recall how many times I cursed him. How many glass jars I attempted to hurl at him. How many times I wished for him to go away and in so doing us a favor by excusing his abominable presence away from us.

But where did all the hate take me? 

I graduated with Latin honors. I am pursuing a graduate degree under a scholarship that provides me with more than what I need. I am working hard to lift our lives out of poverty. In my two decades in this world, although I had more than my fair share of difficulties I have emerged unfazed and firm. I have given my parents enough reason to be proud of who I am and what I have achieved. 

On quite rare occasions when I am able to come home I looked at my father and saw how years went by. The usually strong and dreadful voice was replaced by a meek and soft-toned one. The once brooding physique was slackened by the burden of age. The once fiery eyes were now replaced by faint embers, mellowed by the passing of the years.

Upon seeing the emaciated figure I suddenly realized how he worked hard for us all his life. How silently he battled his own inner wars. How he kept all to himself and to bottles of liquor. In the company of distilled spirits he surrendered himself. He can't let us see him struggle. He can't let us see him down. Despite his many vices he still provided for us. Though he struggled, he still showed that he is our pillar of strength. 

I could choose to be delinquent. I could opt to be a drop-out. I could waste all my life sulking over the fact that I do not have that ideal father one sees in the movies. But I didn't. And why? 

Because he was there all along. 

I remembered how he would bathe me and my brother when we were kids. He would brush our feet briskly like a dirty pot to make sure we're spick and span. He would cut our nails with the seriousness of an engineer drafting a blueprint. He was even our own personal barber. Although sometimes we regret we had our haircut done by him. Yes he loved us then and he loves us now. And although there may be a lot of times when it is not quite apparent, Time has granted me the silent knowledge that my father loves us. It is I think the advent of maturity that I have come to understand him, be open to him and give him another chance to show how a father might care for his family. 

Today he turns 46. Almost half of his life he has been with me. Although sometimes I cannot feel his guidance I reckon it was because it was I who looked away. I do not wish to sound cheesy but now, I am grabbing the chance to show him that it is not yet too late. 

Happy Birthday, Daddy Eric. I may not consider you the best dad in this world but if ever somebody gives me the power to choose who my father would be, I will never give you up for someone else.

Keep well.

JanMell Vanity Scripts #8: GREEN

Yesterday when we went to the mall we passed by Greenwich and felt a craving for their food. After all, we can't remember anymore the last time we ate there. So this afternoon after waking up (yes, we wake up in the afternoon) we went for it. 

To be honest, Macki's fried chicken (double-dead or not) tastes better and we found the spaghetti bland and unexciting. The only consolation was the
 pizza and this is probably due to the fact that we haven't eaten pizza in ages.

Thanks to their good-looking staff, male and female alike, our mind was preoccupied at coming up with possible pick-up lines to catch their attention and probably sound naughty, at the very least. Say for example:

"Excuse me, mangayo mig water. Apili nalang pod sa imong number." 

Or a naughty answer to a conventional dialogue.

Waiter (Referring to the used plates): Sir, pwede na ni kwaon? 
Us: Kwaa na ang tanan sa ako.

Waiter: Sir, naa pay kulang sa order?
Us: Uu, ikaw. 

We have come to the conclusion that in Greenwich, except for their lasagna, their staff might taste better than their food.

Keep well.
Related Posts with Thumbnails