To even out the emo-ness the previous post contains and to celebrate my impending meeting with a certain person my dad wants me to meet and potentially marry someday, here’s something from xkcd.com:

story of my fucking life

I have to say Uncle Ben was wrong.

No great power has come to my possession and yet I have a goddamn laundry list of responsibilities to deal with. If anything, age has given me a rather clear and entirely non-rosy view of the world. Whatever all those feel good movies say, there’s seriously nothing awe inspiring at all in dealing with life’s curve balls and major setbacks.

Nobody’s forcing me to deal with this shit. I know that and it’s all completely clear. I’m doing this because, well, it’s my responsibility. It’s about as simple as that.

That doesn’t mean the pressure never gets to me, though. I’m not superman, no matter how invincible and nonchalant I try to be in front of the family. And it’s not that I’m being all emo inside. It’s not that. I feel fine doing this for the people I love. It’s just that sometimes, I feel like breaking down.

As my friend Mei said, she never had a problem with money back when we were students. Ironically, now that we’re all employed, money’s just another of those things we always seem to run out off.

It’s a consequence of growing up. Somehow you just learn to deal. Life’s a bitch — you have no choice but to bitch back or die trying. It’s crap and we all know it but there’s not much else we can do.

still hot; not the point

Last night I caught this new Taiwanese soap opera that stars one of the forefathers of Chinese boybands, Nicky Wu. The still hot as hell and apparently ageless Nicky plays a down and out elder brother who has to take care of his three siblings and his slightly psychotic mother. Nicky Wu is, as I mentioned a sentence ago, still totally drool-worthy, but this post isn’t really about his hotness, so I digress.

I’m not a big fan of tearjerkers, seeing as how real life is a bastard in itself. Last night, though, I forced myself to sit through the show, mainly because something in it just resonated in my head. It’s pretty much like the scriptwriter somehow got into my head, sorted out my thoughts, put them into words and made Nicky Wu memorize them.

I’m not in a good mood for translating, but I’ll do what I can.

”妳可以幫我請假嗎？ can you help me file for leave?
一天就好。one day’s enough.
可以有時不那麼堅強嗎？“ can I just be weak sometimes?

There are days when superman is a bitchin’ role you seriously don’t want to play, but the world’s waiting and drama won’t get you anywhere at all.

One day’s leave is all I need.

Maybe I can be weak sometimes, too.

… for me and my friends at least, considering how we simultaneously swore off weddings yesterday after witnessing the massive amount of work involved in the entire process.

But no matter.

Finally, after eight long years: it’s finally official.

Three or four years back — while possessed by the Holy Spirit — I supposedly blurted out that their relationship was nothing more than a joke. I say “supposedly” because I can’t actually remember saying that. I do remember talking about commitment and might have mentioned “joke” and “relationship” in the same breath, but the truth is that I wanted to tell them that their relationship was pretty unique in an ocean of flings and deceit.

I blame the mental crossed wires on Bacchus.

I didn’t think I would ever cry, really, but seeing her walk down the aisle turned me into emotional mush. I’ve been to a lot of weddings, but yesterday felt a lot more personal. I was giving away a sister, and that’s never something easy to deal with.

And then the ceremony was over.

me praying to san miguel

The reception is a blur. I met (aka “stared obsessively at”) a really cute guy who looked like Gossip Girl’s Chuck Bass, prayed to San Miguel a couple of times and escaped the dreaded bouquet toss. There was singing — really bad singing — some dancing and tons of food.

I stared blankly at my hands near the end of the night, battling fatigue and sleepiness. I somehow got to a decent bed by 1 in the morning, drifting off to sleep in less than a minute.

My brain still isn’t functioning as properly as it should, but I do know that last night, I gave up my innate dislike for weddings and marriage and commitment.

Yesterday is love affirmed.

Surprisingly, I have nothing to say.

Except maybe I got a kickass birthday cake from my dad and a fantastic gift from my mom.  Plus pastillas from my sister.

Other than that, well, yeah.

Birthday’s over.

If my sister’s psychological test is to be believed, I am the following things:

- narcissistic
- egotistical
- self-absorbed
- intent on shutting out the world
- repressing hostile and aggressive emotions
- mentally defective (See? Not deficient … defective. I am smart but damaged.)
- insecure
- emotionally immature
- longing for freedom from responsibility
- harboring malicious designs on Ely Buendia

The last part I added in keeping with the Eheads theme of this week’s consecutive posts. Of all the things listed up there, though, that’s pretty much the only one I agree with. If my sister had diagnosed me with God complex I would have wholeheartedly agreed. And paid her for services somehow, I think.

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Finally went to see a cardiologist after more than three months of pussyfooting.  I had to go back to my pediatric cardiologist because I simply couldn’t find anyone else I could trust.  He’s a cardiologist for kids but that doesn’t exactly deter me, obviously, so off I went.

Miraculously, his assistant somehow found my records from fourteen years ago.

A review of my test results showed that I still have no reason to check into the Philippine Heart Center (damn!), but that I might have a bit of a lung problem.

I still have Mitral Valve Prolapse, but it’s not the source of my frequent chest pains.  According to my doctor, I’ve got some sort of asthma gene (I have skin asthma, and my mother’s family is filled to the brim with people suffering from asthma) that gives me weak lungs and the inability to inhale enough oxygen.

No, that doesn’t mean I’m constantly asphyxiated.  Which sounds weird.

Anyway, what it does mean is that my lungs automatically go into overdrive when I get seriously stressed.  That’s the asthma gene at work.  And yes, that’s where the chest pains come from.  Fear can also trigger the same reaction from my stupid, stupid lungs.

So I’m supposed to avoid stress to keep my lungs from going haywire, as well as heavy lifting so my prolapse doesn’t act up.

In short, if you want me dead, lock me up in a cramp room with dozens of clowns.  That should pretty much do the trick.

I’m such a nice and loving person, though, so I can’t imagine anyone wishing to do that to me.

Right?

Right?

What?

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I just want to say that a lot of things are obviously wrong with me, which proves my theory that first-borns are always defective 1.0s.  You have to wait for the 2.0s to avoid patches and fixes and stuff.

I can’t — and won’t — go into details here, but suffice it to say that my days as a beer lover are over.

A Higher Being, in the form of the ulcers lining my stomach wall, has decreed that I am now completely incapable of guzzling beer, no matter how little.

I’ve resorted to lessening my daily caffeine intake, eating on time and snacking on crackers, but to no avail.

It’s over.

Which leads me to this thought: I need a new vice.

Weed, perhaps.

I’m thinking I won’t be writing about anything political in a long time.

I rarely write about this [insert profanity of choice here] government anyway, unless it’s tax season.  It’s just that when I wrote something a bit controversial this week, I got a few very serious answers that I wasn’t really ready for.  I know blogging opens you up to serious discussion, but back up a bit kids.

Why so serious?

Well I did get good and friendly answers that made me think.  The only problem is that I’m not in a very good mood for thinking.  My brain has been mush these past few days.

I’m not blaming the commenters, okay.  Just making that clear.

It’s just that I’m not really in the mood for seriousness, and lest I be mistaken for a serious blogger, I aim to blog mostly about worthwhile issues such as Wu Chun’s gayness from now on.