My Top 11 Songs for 2011

For me, 2011 has been a most unique year for music. Here are my favorites for the year. Tell me yours!

11. Adele - "Rolling in the Deep"

This song has been ubiquitous for most of this year, and for once in recent popular music's history, quality matched popularity. Cheers to Adele. She made this year more memorable for most of us, I bet.

10. Britney Spears - "Till the World Ends"

The more I listen to this song, the more I seem to like it. I have been a fan of Britney Spears ever since her first album (I was one of the first of her fans way back in my high school days) and to grow up with her music made my life so much more colorful. I know deep in my heart that in that theoretical scenario, I will indeed be one of those who will be dancing till the world ends.

9. Maroon 5 - "Moves Like Jagger"

Unlike most of you, this song did not hit me straight in the face the first time I heard it. Only with repeated exposure did it unconsciously worm its way into my brain to give me that LSS. There was one night I played this on loop while I danced like crazy, alone in the living room. I may not know how to whistle, but I guess I know how to move like Jagger.

8. Foster the People - "Pumped Up Kicks"

It was one of those rare moments when you first listen to a song in the radio and immediately, you couldn't get it out of your system. I had to do some research before I was able to know even the title of this song, because I guess I was one of the first to listen to it. I am very happy that this song became popular because recently, I have been increasingly inclined towards indie music.

7. Rihanna feat. Calvin Harris - "We Found Love"

There is a sheer but simple euphoria to this song, and I've been loving it weeks before it hit mainstream consciousness. This song made me realize that I will always be a big fan of dance music. A most memorable video too.

6. Ke$ha - "Blow"

All in all, I think this is the best Ke$ha song ever. I can see myself in it - doing what the song says and living in it. And of course, me and my colleagues in IC performed this song in one of our best dance routines. I can still remember the dance steps to this one.

5. Lady Gaga - "Judas"

For me, nothing beats "Paparazzi" but this is my favorite cut from her slightly disappointing "Born This Way" album. Too bad it did not make it big in the rest of the world, probably because of its controversial video. Still love that swinging dance step though.

4. Avril Lavigne - "What the Hell"

Avril has been severely overshadowed by other artists this year, and I bet many have completely forgotten about her in their own yearend favorite lists. This may not be her best year ("Goodbye Lullaby" was a bad album) but I surely had fun playing this song on loop for weeks. I also enjoyed playing this song on my guitar even if it was terribly difficult to sing it without my voice being reduced to squeaks in the chorus.

3. Britney Spears - "I Wanna Go"

How can I forget the many times I've played this song in the Junior Faculty Room when "Femme Fatale" (which is one the best pop albums I've ever listened to) was leaked online? I've loved this song months before it was released and this will always remain as one of my faves from Britney. The perfect song to play before I go out to party!

2. Katy Perry - "Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.)"

It was a moment of awesomeness for me when I heard that this song was to be released as Katy's next single because I've helped popularize this song in my "808" album which was released last year. I even made a music video for this! Every time people remember me because of this song, I couldn't help but be elated because that is exactly my major objective in making albums. Silly the song may be, but it does describe my recent (and hopefully on-going) partying years.

1. Adele - "Someone Like You"

I chose this song as my favorite this year because like most other people, I can somehow relate to this song. I couldn't quite remember if I cried to this like in that SNL skit (probably a case of selective amnesia) but I know that this is one song which I will carry with me even though I'm old and my heart is worn out. The world has decided that 2011 is definitely Adele's year, and I agree to that wholeheartedly.

Who I Loved The Most

"Every heart that's broken is a murder one."
- Sugababes

***

Dear D,

Hey Baby. I wonder how you are. I've been sending you messages over Facebook you know, but you never seem to receive them. You must have blocked me from messaging you. Well, I'd rather believe that than the possibility that you simply do not want to reply to me.

I hope you're doing well, wherever you are. I bet you'll be with your barkada and your new guy this coming New Year's Eve. I bet you'll be at Carlo's rooftop, drinking and dancing and all.

I dated a lot of guys this year, Baby. Nine guys, not counting those which did not last more than the first date. Not counting those which were just for sex. I dated nine guys, Baby. And all of them failed.

The first was a rockstar. He is a vocalist in a local band from UPLB. I used to travel long distances for him, from Diliman to LB many times a week. I helped him in his thesis manuscript you know. We used to have coffee at this chic place in Laguna while he poured his heart out to me. I brought him to school once, and my students met him. I also brought him home. He carried me up the stairs like a bride (like you and I used to) and he placed me on my bed. He pinned me down and kissed me all over. It was one of the best feelings ever, Baby. I really liked that guy. But he left me days before my Compre over a trivial matter. He graduated and I failed.

The second was a bagger at SM San Lazaro. He was poor but he was cute. He had an awesome history, you know, much more colorful than ours would ever be. I brought him to O Bar once and one O Diva even asked us to kiss in front of many people. He was a real sport. Even though he did not have much money, he wanted us to have a fair share on our dates. We met many times Baby but on our last dates, I felt dragged down by his family burden. I cut off communications with him slowly and then I vanished. I still think of him sometimes. He had been really nice to me, even though I was an ass.

The third was... a bum. He only just passed the board exams that was why. At first, it was supposed to be just for sex. I tried to fuck him the first time we met but as I had no practice at all (you should know the reason why) it turned out to be quite a fiasco. We just laughed it over after, as we sat down on the table to smoke. He looked at me and that was when I knew that this was turning out to be something more than just sex. We dated for a while. He was intelligent, and I loved his sense of humor. I loved it when we kiss Baby. I used to play my guitar for him and he would smile and it was really special. He made me love the song "California King Bed". But he wasn't completely over his ex that time we met. One night I was asking him to come over, but it took him too long to reply to my messages that I snapped. I told him that I've had enough. I deleted his number. I deleted him from Facebook. Days after, I realized my folly and when I tried to contact him again, he was gone. I couldn't find him anymore.

The fourth was... well, another bum. He lived somewhere near SM North and we didn't really last that long. He was okay, though, and I like his interest in things. I gave him a lot of my stuff which I didn't need and I was happy that it pleased him greatly. He was young and he was a really good fuck. I loved his stamina. Sadly though, we fell out of it. Nobody seemed to want to fix things back to where they were and we both moved on with no hard feelings to each other.

The fifth was a Makati call center agent. I've known him for a very long time, Baby. He wanted me to be a fuckbuddy and not as a boyfriend, and that was fine with me. We met several times this year and one time I brought him to our apartment in Sikatuna. After a night of drinking, I woke up to find everything cleaned up. He did the cleaning while we were sleeping. He is weird like that. Many times I kept asking him that we should give us another go but he seemed to want to just keep me as a friend. And in the end, I suppose that is really for the best, considering that if there was a Venn diagram of our interests, only "sex" will be in the overlapped portion. We still communicate, and I have to admire his patience because I only reply to him one out of five times.

The sixth was a writer. I think. Of sorts. He was really smart and he got along with my friends really well. He had a lot of piercings done on his face, weird hair, artsy fashion, and he has a UP-ish sense of humor even though he wasn't from our school. He was really artistic. He knows a lot about books and paintings and music. I believe he can even rival me when it comes to music trivia. Once we had this "guess that tune" game with my friends and he won. One night after a day together, he already went home (a long way off) and I asked him to come back and he did and even brought some food with him. He was really mature and all in all he was okay but I just wasn't physically attracted to him. I was distraught by that realization, but I really did try to summon feelings of attraction for him. Eventually, we fell apart too.

The seventh was my sweetheart. He was half a foreigner so we had to talk in English all the time. Sometimes I make fun of his Tagalog because it was just so cute. He was the sweetest thing ever, Baby. And he loved the book I wrote for you (which you returned to me after we broke up). He was the first guy I kissed in public, too. We were just so sweet, holding hands everywhere, kissing everywhere. He was a dream of a lover. One rainy night we even went to Luneta, and sat on a bench under an umbrella. That will probably one of the nights I will never forget in my whole life, Baby. And when he became my boyfriend, it was the sweetest thing! I can leave him at home and he will chat with my Mom and my Dad and they got along well. I couldn't ask anything more from him, Baby. But I... I felt choked with his love. It was all so overwhelming and I found myself missing my time alone more and more until it became clear to me that I wasn't ready for him yet. I broke up with him in the lamest possible way and to this day, I carry that guilt that I never did him justice. One day, I will find the courage to face him again. I will.

The eighth was... Mr. Complicated. We met at unusual circumstances. The rules were blurred. And... And I suppose I'm still in pain over him, Baby because... Because he was the best guy I've ever met in my whole life. He was better than you. When I'm with him I just feel so different. I feel so understood and I can feel that we resonate somehow. He has this way with me and it was just all so intense that's why I couldn't write about him properly. The first time I hugged him I almost cried. That was how fierce it was for me. We tried to make a story where I as the scriptwriter and he was the director. But... I'm afraid that he does not like me back. Everything had been too easy for him, and boys everywhere fall head over heels for him and I suppose to him, I was just one of those foolish guys. That hurts but that is the truth. I wish I can still see him one day... If only to end the story that we have begun.

The ninth was a chemist. He was very sporty too, and he loves to run and do other sporty stuff. He was quite smart and he seemed to be interested in my albums. I invited him over once and he was cuddlier than I originally thought him to be. I felt sad though, because that was the night that I realized that we were never going to be more than friends. That was fine, since he wasn't looking for a relationship, but you know, that will give me less reasons to see him again. It was all quite very recent (only hours have elapsed) so I'm still unsure of what to think of him.

So there, Baby. Those were the nine guys I've dated this year. A record I've set for 2011. Nine experiences and nine lessons in love. Nine kilig moments and nine heartbreaks.

Ask me now, Baby. Ask me who I love the most now. And even if I tell you the answer, it wouldn't really matter. Because I have learned to distrust my feelings. Every single time, I keep telling myself that this was it. That this was the right love for me. But then they fail. They keep failing. But the most amazing part of it all is that I've gone through these whole. I'm okay. I'm still standing, Baby.

You know Baby, when you've gone through a lot of things, it becomes harder and harder to define what real love is. The bar keeps being set higher and higher. The feelings become more and more intense but still, that's not love. I can meet this new guy and he can turn my world around, but no, that's not love either.

I wonder, Baby, what is love for you? Did you feel love when we were together? Do you think I did?

Sigh.


Love (Did I really?),
B

2 Heads

Lately I've been reading stuff about evolutionary psychology just out of curiosity. This relatively new field postulates that our behavior stemmed from the accumulated adaptations of our ancestors. The beneficial social traits which enabled our ancestors to survive better than the others were passed on through our genes, in a manner very similar to the more popular concept of "biological" evolution.

Parts of these concepts include explanations on how we choose our potential mates - from the requirement of physical fitness, youth, and fertility to maternal behavior to  how we react to emotional and sexual infidelity (yes there are scientific reasons for this). Learning about how we tick as a race proved to be illuminating yet distasteful for me at the same time. If what evolutionary psychology says proves to be true, then it shows us that we have been mere puppets of our genes all along. Of course, there is absolutely nothing weird about having evolved to survive better in a physical sense. What I find unpalatable is how our instincts, through our genes, are messing with our minds. All along, we thought our brains were always in control of our feelings and desires. That we are consciously aware of every decision that we make. But these recent findings, they tell us that we are but mere puppets of our DNA.

This puts my life philosophy in a very difficult conundrum. On one side, I can fully embrace my most innate desires (read: lust) since they are but natural drives for a human being to have. I can live my life in such a way as to satisfy every craving as long as I am not doing harm to others. Why fight it when these are as natural as hunger and thirst? On the other side, I hate how it contradicts my "higher" thoughts. I've read somewhere that what separates us from animals is our ability to control our basest drives. I can go ahead and sleep around until I drop dead from sheer exhaustion, but somehow, a part of me rejects this since I consider this low and shallow. Should I allow myself to be dictated by my genes, even if these evolutionary traits are now mismatched with our new environment?

Of course, I am only having this dilemma because our natural drives are not in my favor. People are naturally attracted to physically fit individuals, and this stems from the stone age idea of strength being synonymous to survival. But in this age, we know that this isn't as true as it was hundreds of thousands of years ago.

Just look at how we choose our partners. How much of it is due to our "purer" emotions, and how much is just plain old lust? How much is caring and how much is fucking? I think that most people who claim that looks does not matter are hypocrites. No matter how we promote "true love", we are still slaves of our ancient traits. And it is almost impossible to escape their trappings.

I look back on my relationships and realized how much my libido has led me to make a lot of wrong decisions, from the perspectives of my heart and my mind. I could have been theoretically romantically satisfied by now, if only I was able to control my headstrong and bullheaded dick. I have tried so hard to escape this predisposition but ultimately, these blasted genes have always won.

Sigh. I suppose the best that I can do is to find a compromise between my two heads. Find a balance between the rational and the carnal. No matter how we struggle, there are really some things which are beyond our control. Things like these make me realize that we are far from being flawless, and that we have a long way to evolve into becoming the "perfect" human beings that we strive to be.

Photoshop My Life

Dati ko pa tinatakasan ang pagkapangit ko. Dati, laging nakababa yung salamin ko, halfway na papunta sa dulo ng ilong ko. Alam ko na oily naman kasi lagi ang facial skin ko, kaya siguro nawalan na ako ng gana na paulit-ulit siyang itaas paakyat. Well, pwede ko namang higpitan yung sa may tenga di ba? Pero hinayaan ko na lang na ganun siya. Kahit na minsan mukhang ewan na talaga ako lalo. 

(Naalala ko pa dati dapat iinterviewhin ako para sa TV. Tapos parang naasar yung reporter sa mahulog-hulog na na salamin ko at pinatanggal na lang. O nung same event na yun na dapat ako yung ipinag-dedemo para sa TV din ng isang lab experiment dahil ako ang sorta knowledgeable, kaso sumimangot lang sa akin yung media peeps dahil hindi ako pang-TV. Yung mas gwapo ko na lang na kasama yung pinag-demo.)

Kaya hinahayaan ko na ganun yung salamin ko kasi "ayokong harapin ang katotohanan", lalo na kapag nakaharap ako sa salamin. Siyempre, mas blurred yung tingin ko kapag nakababa ang salamin ko, kaya kaya ko pang isipin na guwapo ako o cute. Well, totoo naman siguro yun. Sabi din ng ex ko kapag wala siyang salamin e cute naman ako nang kaunti. At yun yung ex ko na super honest ha? Yung kapag nalulungkot ako dahil sinabihan ako ng iba na panget ay mapapa-oo na lang siya dahil ayaw niya magsinungaling. Wala siyang konsepto ng "comforting words".

One time, as a birthday treat to myself, naisipan kung palitan ang salamin ko after ten years. Halos amagin na di naman siya at kalawangin, at naglipana na ang blue-green culture na nabubuhay sa aking facial oil. Laking gulat ko nang isuot ko ang bago kong salamin at nakita ko ang fez ko na parang inverted strawberries lang ang texture at color. Nagulat ako na over the past few years, nakaya kong lumarga sa outside world nang ganun ang hinaharap.

Well, bago pa mangyari iyan ay ang uber-tigidig days ko circa 2005-2006 na kung saan nagmimistulang pagmamay-ari ng isang babaeng laging tinatagusan ang kama ko dahil laging may blood marks sa unan dahil sa mga pumuputok na pimples na hindi ko namamalayan sa aking mahimlay na pagtulog. Ibang level talaga ang pagkalala ko nun, at alam ko na naging tapunan ako ng mga pang-aalaska kapag nakatalikod ako. Pero kasi, wala naman akong magawa talaga nun kundi hayaan lang siya. Wala akong perang pang-derma. At hindi ko siya naging priority dahil noong mga panahon na iyon ay mayroon akong jowa kaya wala akong paki kung pangit ba ako sa iba. Grabe lang, taas-noo ako sa mga naging exes ko during those years at natanggap niyo ako nang ganun. Aylabshu talaga mwahmwah!

Eventually, nag-subside na din siya at medyo panaka-naka na lang sila kung mag-appear. Hindi na kagaya nang dati na halos mawalan na talaga ng space sa fez ko dahil occupied na lahat. Hehehe! Tapos nung nag-resurface na rin ang aking skin beneath all those acne ay nagparang battleground ang aking nakita. Sandamakmak na scars at what-have-you's na di maipintang ewan. It's true what they say - na pagkatapos ng gera, ang lupa ang pinakanahihirapan.

Sa ngayon, I can honestly say na nag-improve siya slightly, hindi lang sa aking biased judgement kundi sabi na rin ng mga friends ko. Yun nga lang, sobrang lubak-lubak na siya, at pareho na sila ng texture ng batong panghilod. Kapag nakasalamin ako at nakaharap sa salamin, medyo bearable na. At minsan gwapo pa, depende sa klase at angle ng light. Kapag malayo, like siguro mga limang metro, aakalain mong pwede na. Hindi ko makalimutan one time naglalakad ako sa Trinoma tapos narinig yung isang gay couple talking about me. Sabi nung isa "Gwapo o" but no, nung lumapit na ako, biglang dagdag nung isa "Sa malayo".

Malaki ang pasasalamat ko sa Adobe Photoshop dahil kahit papaano ay may naipapakita akong presentableng profile pic sa mundo ng Friendster o Multiply o Facebook. Most of the time, konting tweaks lang naman ang ginagawa ko like contrast and brightness. Minsan style lang diyan ay yung pag-crop o pag-rotate. Pero kapag nasa creative mode ako, yon todo gamit ako ng effects. Pero I maintain na may pagka-"art" pa din yung mga heavily edited at hindi lang panlolokong ganap. Salamat na lang at wala akong high quality camera dahil kung ganun ay kahit anong pag-eenhance ko siguro ay sadyang wala na akong magagawa pa sa pagmumukha ko.

Minsan, kailangan mo lang talaga nang kaunting panloloko sa sarili (parang religion lang) para makabangon ulit kinabukasan. Konting edit sa pictures, mapapanatag na ang loob mo na hindi ka naman talaga super swangit. Konting delete lang sa mga pangit na pictures, hindi lang sa files kundi maski sa alaala mo para huwag ka tuluyang madala sa walang katapusang self-pity. Hindi kasi lahat kayang tanggapin ang buong katotohanan.

Ngayon at matanda na ako, iyon na ang sinusubukan kong harapin. Na sadyang pangit ako sa lagay ko ngayon. Kaya naman hindi matapos-tapos ang heartbreak ko eh, kasi habol ako nang habol sa mga mas gwapo sa akin. It is time for a reality check na sa itsura ko ngayon, hanggang sa certain low level lang na ito ang kaya kong ma-reach.

Ngunit ang problema ko talaga ay kahit na alam kong pangit na nga ako ay minsan wala pa din akong gana na ayusin ang sarili ko kasi parang taliwas ito sa aking mga paninindigan na ang pagka-halina dahil sa itsura ay kababawan lamang. Pero habang lumalaon, at nakikita ko ang sarili ko na tumitingin din talaga sa mga gwapo ay naiintindihan ko na na hindi ako excluded sa mga batas na ito ng lipunan ng kabadingan: "Huwag choosy, kung di ka naman yummy" at "Gwapo sa gwapo. Only."

On retrospect, kaya lang talaga ako nakatagal nang ganito sa itsura ko ay magaling din kasi ako mag-photoshop ng buhay. In a way, maganda yun kasi napapasaya mo ang sarili mo. Lagi mong nakikita ang rainbows and butterflies sa bawat pangit na nangyari sa iyo, pero ang masama dun ay niloloko mo lang ang sarili mo. May panahon na kailangan ko ding harapin ang katotohanan.

Nakakatawa na noong isang araw lang ay nag-expire na ang aking free Photoshop trial. Para bang senyales na hindi na ako dapat mag-enhance ng mga pictures ko. Mula ngayon, hanggang Paint na lang ako. Hehehe. O kaya todo adjust ng angles at lighting.

Siguro panahon na nga para ayusin ang pagmumukha ko. Dapat siguro matanggap ko na hindi ito kababawan lang. Nakasalalay dito ang confidence ko. Nakasalalay dito ang future ko. Sawa na ako isnabin ng mga di naman kagwapuhang vainglorious assholes. Sawa na ako balewalain at lokohin. Hintayin niyo lang ako at ipapamukha ko sa inyo ang tunay na mukhang dapat ay napasaakin kung hindi lang dahil sa aking acne genes.

Sa huli siguro, ang mas mahalaga ay kung paano ituring ng sarili mo ang sarili mo nang walang halong lokohan. Oo, inaamin kong pangit ako. Pero pangit ako ngayon lang. Bukas, gagawa ako ng paraan para mabawasan yun ng kaunti. At nang kaunti pa. Hanggang makuha ko na ang dapat kong nakuha dati pa.

Darating din ang araw na kaya kong ipakita kung ano man ang nararamdaman ko, nang hindi ko na naiisip ang magiging itsura ko sa picture.

Green Sunsets & Null Sets

Have you ever tried to look at yourself in the mirror, not to look at your appearance, but to look into your eyes hoping to find a glimmer of who you really are?

 

Have you ever tried to crane your neck upward and just look at the wide expanse of the cloudless sky and simply wonder at how it makes you want to fly?

 

Have you ever tried to imagine yourself a giant stepping over lands and seas, pausing every now and then to tickle your feet with the trees?

 

Have you ever tried bungee jumping inside your head, to feel the rush of the wind against your face and to try to intermittently fight the feeling of falling to get that conscious thrill in your tummy?

 

Have you ever tried to get your mind lost as you gaze outward from the bus window, and making yourself believe that you can forget where you are if you only tried hard enough although you really couldn't?

 

Have you ever tried thinking that handsome stranger was your boyfriend, only to lose interest halfway through because you imagined being with him so hard, it almost felt as if you've really had him?

 

Have you ever tried to control your hands as they move seemingly without permission as they followed the beats of the song you were listening to, making you look like an epileptic fool in front of everyone?

 

Have you ever tried to appreciate the awesomeness of your own brain as you wake up from yet another dream whose ideas you wouldn't have been able to come up with by yourself awake?

 

Have you ever tried to scare yourself silly knowing that if you are aware of this much now, it will only get worse in the future and you might get swept away by the sheer wonder of your ever evolving thoughts?

 

Have you ever tried being attracted to the night and its shadows while in your head, you rely on real textures to feel your heart for its sore spots and grooves?

 

Have you ever tried to sit on a cafe with your smokes and your music and just stare blankly in front of you because your mind is bombarded with external and internal barrages of thoughts and yet it feels blank at the same time?

 

Have you ever tried to bring yourself back to the ground and to erase that stupid smile in your face as you came up with another exciting and crazy idea on what the future might be like?

Have you ever tried to ask yourself why you are so mesmerized by fireworks when you can easily see something more visually stunning on your media player's visualizations?

 

Have you ever tried asking yourself why you feel that sunsets, especially those rare vivid green ones, are among the most beautiful things you have ever seen on this earth even though you already know that the answer to that is meaningful but still, it does not matter?

 

Wunderkind

At times I want to approach my parents while they're just lying there on the couch, watching yet another one of those intellectually numbing shows on TV. At times I simply want to ask them how they feel about how they fared in their lives, now that theirs are drawing to a close. At times I just want to ask why they made such a mess of helping me grow up as a child. I want to ask, not to rile them up, but because I want to understand.

I envy my friends sometimes, those whose parents are taking active controls over their lives. I envy those parents I see on TV commercials, "nurturing the gift" of their child. Those parents who, you know, seem to want to share what they've gone through. Those who have at least a modicum of know-how on how it feels to become an adult.

My story of growing up seem to be almost completely mine alone. My parents gave me a free rein on almost everything important in my life. Maybe they thought I was too bullheaded to follow whatever they say, but I believe I only became like that on my post-adolescent years. Even when I was just a wee child, they never seemed to guide me at all, and I'm only thankful that I have an inner sense of academic duty otherwise I would have long flunked myself out of school. Some of you might think that the freedom they gave me is actually a good thing, but what I'm pointing out here is the difference between letting me be free and them not knowing how to raise a child.

Like some of you, early on, I already exhibited some promising signs of creativity. I already had a sense of melody when I was in Grade 1, playing my father's cassette tapes and having a grand time just reading the lyrics of those songs out of the album booklet. I was making my own maps by that same period as well, already inventing my own world of wars and capital cities and trying to draw their own flags. I started writing short stories when I was still in elementary school, chronicling me and my friends' adventures on the salt fields behind our school. I recorded my first songs by that time also, using my father's wrenches of different sizes as a very crude xylophone and conscripting my still sane brother to play another makeshift instrument (it led to a lot of frustration on my part since he had a very limited attention span and was clearly not interested in making music). I drew comics as well - the adventures of my toys and their war against Black Master. I made all sorts of make-believe games, most involving pens and calculators and some paper. I also made recipes out of my mother's powders and other school stuff mixed with some juice and the occasional leftover snacks. I even did my own version of Miss Universe (so gay I know) but the contestants were my mother's thread spools or my crayons. They'll have their own scores. Criteria for judging. And usually Black ends up last while Apple Green or Magenta takes the crown.

My childhood was just plain wondrous, not because I had a lot of friends or because I had the best toys but because of my imagination. I can spend my days just on my own, and I'll never run out of ways to amuse myself. My parents couldn't have failed to notice what a weird child I was, who prefers to stay at home and sit on his table, writing down numbers and tinkering with a small calculator (which they should know wasn't taught to me at school yet) instead of going out to play with friends like normal kids do. They couldn't have helped but see that in me, and yet they did nothing. They helped me not to develop any of my inclinations.

I can understand why they wouldn't buy me any cassette tapes since it was more for leisure than for talent development. And I had no grudges when I had to use my own money, earned from winning contests, to buy them. But what I don't fully understand is why I had to buy my very first atlas and that I had to buy my own keyboard. It wasn't a case of saving money since I'm certain that during those days, my father was one of the first guys to own a cellphone and that he could have bought a car. It puzzles me why they didn't do anything to feed my growing curiosity in the arts. They saw me, acting like no normal kid does, and did nothing about it. Nothing at all.

There were even times when they considered me a nuisance. Like they'll scoff at me because I pestered them with my never-ending questions. I used to line up my cassette tapes and ask my Mom which one she likes best and she would just give an irritable noise and ignore me. They never displayed any active interest in what weird stuff I was doing anyway.

And now couple this with the fact of how they paid next to nothing for my tuition. And how my father actively stopped my application for UP, and how my mother had to struggle on her own to secure me a DOST scholarship just so I can go through college. I mean, can you imagine that? What kind of father will save nothing for his son's college education? What kind of father would deliberately stop his son from going to the country's premier university?

I can't help but feel disappointed at how my life could have been if only my parents were more forthcoming with my creative tendencies. How many songs might I have written by this time if they only encouraged me and bought me the right instruments? How many stories might I have written? How many comic books? It has always been me. Just me struggling to go up while they hold me down. I know I can do nothing about all these now, but still I couldn't help but feel regret at what I could have become if only my parents were more knowledgeable on how to properly raise a child, especially an unusual one like me.

And let's not forget to mention how they never even said that they were proud of me for all my achievements. It was only later (as in like this year) that they jibe at me, calling me gifted or that I was good in this or that, but back when I was younger they never gave me one word of praise. Not even a hug for ending up on top of my class through elementary, high school, and college. Not one.

Oh I know they love me in their own ways. I'm sure of that. Only sometimes, I get tired because I've been struggling on my own for a very long time now. I've had this sense of independence ever since I can remember and you know, I just wonder how things would have been if my parents were those I saw on TV, smiling at their son on stage, clapping their hands, supporting him, encouraging him...

I wish I were exaggerating about these things but I'm not.