Rant…
Okay, I am now officially typing this blog-post on a plain computer completely free from its umbilical cord that is the internet. Instead of waiting for some plurks to pop out, for some message to come in or for some torrents to finish, I am now able to read most of the stuff that I want to read, play most of the games that I want to play, and actually write a decent entry like this one.
I have never been to a job which did not involve being online in the internet. In fact, most of you people who actually know me are already accustomed to me being ALWAYS ONLINE on their messenger accounts. Oh my, withdrawal syndrome galore…
The reason behind all this adversity..?
Our place, which was a compound being dwelled in by us and 2 of my mother’s siblings, suddenly went to an impromptu construction due to some unknown issues known to man; okay, that was a bit exaggerated. Kidding aside, they were constructing something which was in direct line of the place where I was sleeping and where my computer was situated upon.
It sucks really… I felt like I was thrown out of my own room…
…w-wait, that’s what really happened right?
After shrugging it off with a few bottles of Cobra, 4 packs of Rebisco Strawberry Crackers, a PlayGround Mag deadline and a trip to the toilet, I finally decided to come and move in my GF’s house… with her whole family and four other families…
What was I thinking…?
It may be an after effect of the yellowish concoction named after a snake and a Japanese Warrior but I’m actually typing this now in my GF’s living room while people are walking around my back without really noticing what I’m doing regardless if I was playing my eyes out with The Last Remnant or typing a stress-reliever like this one. I am so liking the solitude here…
This will be the very first time that I will rant my heart out in a blog after so many years…
I came from a family which was well off; I never laid my eyes on a black and white television, was always updated on the latest Lego model and was always pampered with life’s simple luxuries that normal people don’t have. But it didn’t really get that much into my system though, I have a cool dad who knows how to train his kids to be humble enough and not care much about anything that money can buy. Okay, it might not have a complete effect on me but if you’d really know me in person, I’m a cheap prick who’d rather have Pop than Pepsi.
But as luck may have it, the well-off lifestyle that I grew up with along with my cousins vanished when my grandfather was diagnosed with diabetes and was forced to use his saving in trying to stay alive. I never regretted the gradual loss of properties on my mother’s side because again, what the hell do we care.
But when a tree loses its roots, all hell breaks loose…
Rock n Roll baby…
My Girlfriend’s family however, started way down the social chain. They actually worked their way up to where they are now and honestly speaking, they’re doing pretty well. They showcase this happy-go-lucky aura that screams Hakuna-Matata all over the place that personal problem; especially the ones involving money are seldom discussed more than 2-3 hours. I really envied the unity that this family showcased as they lived their lives one day at a time.
I know some of you will have some raised eyebrows on why they actually let me stay…
The whole construction thing is just killing my sinuses due to a bad case of dust allergy. My girlfriend’s parents already know my situation and yeah, even though it was an impromptu request, it was a straight yes; much to the dismay of my image conscious mother. As my girlfriend’s parents were also veterans of elopement, they shoved to us all the freedom in the world provided that everything should be transparent to them; a fact that my mother just couldn’t understand as she bantered away on the fact that people will always have something to say.
Her parents don’t care… her relatives don’t care… even the neighbors don’t care…
I hate it when people give a higher regard to what other people will say over their own happiness. I mean, It’s not I’m doing some crime here but the freedom that my supposed to be “in-laws” gave me scared the shit out of me. They actually welcomed me as a family; her father occasionally making coffee for me if he sees me having a hard time staying awake when writing something, her mother bringing out fresh clothes for me if I get wet or something even if it’s just a slight splash of sweat or water, and the whole family acknowledging me as their own; to the point that I even join them during their nightly prayers.
I know that these are usually the things that I also do with my own family. But I just hate the fact that the ideology of some of its members contradicts that of my own to the point that certain discussions end up into a verbal assault of my imperfect past.
Once an asshole, always an asshole… As If I’ll prove myself wrong…
