A Letter For You Alone

Dear You,

By now, I suppose you've figured out who YOU are. If not, then surprise because you're the first one who gets to read this post. So yes, You're YOU. (I know that doesn't make a lot of sense but I think you get what I mean) I know there was always a better way to do this but I guess you know by now I'm very bad at face-to-face. I've always achieved better results when I'm being vague.

At any rate, I'm glad you liked the blog. It was kind of the whole point posting it online but I was never really sure I wanted you to know. So now you know. Please don't kill me or don't freak out. And don't over-analyze and don't ask me what that was all about because I don't understand it myself. But maybe now I can begin searching for HER. It's not always an easy task because well, you're a tough act to follow.

But in the spaces between dreaming and waking, in the ungodly hours of the morning, in that small space between fantasy and reality, I have spared a small space for your pedestal. I suppose, for me, it's a reminder. My own surreal little shrine. There it will stay, there it will remain. Why? I'm finding it hard to pry you out. But I'm hoping that maybe you can be the standard by which others will be measured. While I realize that you're a tough act to follow, I'm willing to believe that anything is possible. They say real art is very rare in the world this days. And you are the rarest of the rare. And I'll be lucky to find something just as rare.

So maybe in other worlds, maybe in other realities, maybe in other dreams, I'll meet you there and maybe it will be different. Maybe there my karma will be better. But, for now, you can be YOU and I can be ME. So, thank you. I'm really glad you liked the first one. and don't worry, this'll likely be the last. (There's still that book, of course. if you still really want to be my manager. ha-ha-ha!)

So... Friends?

Always,
Me

The Mount Daguldol Chronicles

Try everything stupid at least once in your life. If it feels good, Do it again.

To this day, I live by that code. To be sure, it has gotten me into more trouble than I sometimes could handle but all in all, it has been a value system that has served me well.

Just before December started, I imagined this was as good a reason as any to go with my friends to Mount Daguldol. To those of you not in the know, Daguldol is a mountain located off the beach line in San Juan, Batangas. What drew me to the trip was the fact that it was right beside a lot of beach resorts and the assurance that the mountain would be a manageable climb, if not an easy one.

At this point I feel compelled to tell you not to trust anyone who tells you that mountain slopes are not steeper than 45 degrees. Odds are very good that they failed their trigonometry class.

In fairness, the trip started out to be promising despite the lateness of our trek leader. It starts out the way any typical outing starts out I suppose: Breakfast at Jollibee, Good conversation, Promises of drinking our brains out when we get to the top of the mountain and what-have-you's. (And like oh-so-many naive first-time mountain climbers, you discover too late how wrong you discover you really are.)

The trip started out uneventful enough, I even enjoyed re-reading Phil Jackson's The Last Season, A Team In Search Of Its Soul. After all, what better way to prepare for a climb than to relax to the Zen Master's words of wisdom? 4 hours after departing Makati, we found ourselves in sunny San Juan, Batangas. A quick lunch, a stopover at the local barangay hall for registration, a quick purchase of lambanog and then we were all set to conquer the mountain. Bright smiles all around, excited faces and people who geniuinely seemed to be having a good time were all abound.

Little did I know this would be the last happy face I see for another 5 hours.

We started our trek along the San Juan beach line. Our trek leader was gracious enough to let us rest along the way because of the difficulty we had walking on the sand. (Imagine yourself carrying a backpack almost half your weight and trekking through the sand in Merrel mountain shoes) At the time, our spirits still seemed relatively high although we were already starting to hear the girls grumble about the endless sand trek. When we got to the foot of the mountain, Anthony told us we would be facing the hardest part of the climb.

Again, let me assure you that mountain-climbers have a very skewed perspective of physical difficulty. The chances are good that a guy who enjoys climbing mountains would have a different perspective of physical difficulty than say, a twenty-eight year old asthmatic who has spent the better part of his years reading comic books and playing video games. And please let me also add a kudos to my stone-faced liar friend Anthony (who also happens to be our trek leader): You fooled us all you little fucker.

As promised, the trek to the first stop was difficult. For me, it was worse. I was surprised I didn't fall down dead at the first pit stop. The path was a twisting, rocky and semi-worn path that was deceptively difficult. I say deceptively because you'd think at first that you could make it up the slopes, but by the time you get to the pit stop you just want to jump down the fucking mountain and get your miserable life over with. Needless to say, I was out of breath by the time I got to the first pit stop.

YES, THIS WAS JUST THE FIRST PIT STOP.

Imagine hauling at least a 50 pound backpack up at least 8 floors of grass, rock and dirt. Factor in asthma, a lifetime of being a wimp and a whiner, having little or no exercise whatsoever and you have one miserable backpacking nerd. It seems that 28 years of the nerd lifestyle finally caught up with me. As I lay there thinking I was dead or dying on the creaky, wooden makeshift shed, I was endlessly cursing Anthony for convincing me to go on this god-forsaken trek. I leveled with the guys and told them I couldn't go on. I was out of breath, my legs were shaking from the strain, my heartbeat was doing the mamba and I was pissed at Anthony for making me go. While I thought my unfortunate journey would end there, they convinced me to continue by making me trade my pack with Gerard and carry his significantly lighter load.

So up we went.

The lighter load definitely helped, but I found that the trek only got harder as we got higher up the mountain. It didn't help that we were chasing sundown because we'd have to get to the peak before nightfall. My fears were further exacerbated by the realization that the 45 degree pipedream was really more of a 50 degree nightmare. (YES THE 5 DEGREES DO MAKE A DIFFERENCE WHEN GOING UP A GODDAMN MOUNTAIN OKAY?) Still, despite the strain, we managed to make it to the second pit stop. It was a nice enough place. There was a cool river running through it, nice wooden chairs and even a hut to rest your weary legs. What made the pitstop especially painful was the fact that I was looking at a 60 degree slope that would be our next assault. I finally managed to muster enough courage to ask the mountain guide:

"Manong, eto na ba pinakamatarik na aakyatin natin?" (Sir, is this the steepest part of the climb?)

His answer almost stopped my beating heart:

"Ah sir, madali pa po yan." (Yes, you're going to fucking die...) (That isn't the actual translation but it sure sounded like that to me)

After that mortifying revelation, we continued with our trek. Sure enough, the long journey to the next stop only served to expand my cursing vocabulary. With every step we took, I had more and more stuff to scream about and curse our trek leader with. At that point if he stood closer than two feet from me, I would have thrown him down the ravine.

He was smart enough to stay away. (At least his judgment of my temper was better than his goddamn trigonometry.)

The next stop would be the famous Halo-Halo stop. I never realized Halo-Halo would taste so good. Then again, after what we went through, shit would taste better than bread at this point. Yet, by now, the view was already spectacular. If you could climb a mountain once in your life, take time to enjoy the view. It's one of the best feelings you'll ever enjoy in this life.

Halo-halo consumed, we dropped by Mang Lizardo's Place ( a famous refuge for mountaineers trekking through Daguldol) and asked them if we could leave some stuff behind to lighten our load and then we were off again.

As the sun was fast descending in the horizon, we had to pick up the pace. We were cautiously setting a faster pace so that we could arrive at the Summit in time for sunset. Like weary warriors, we proceeded with the treacherous mountain assault. I started to develop a deep appreciation of what kind of trek Frodo and Bilbo had to go through in their adventures. (I now have a newfound respect for fat Hobbits who trek for a whole year to a dangerous mountain just to drop a stupid ring in.)

All the while I was merrily cursing and lamenting the fact that I traded this disaster for the Mensa exam.

After what seemed like hours of wading through brooks, stepping on horse and cow shit, trekking through muddy paths and slowly dying of the physical strain, we finally reached the first peak. At that point, I was ready to drop down and roll in the piles of horse shit that were scattered through the peak.

But it was there that I understood the whole point of conquering the mountain.

While it is rarely ever about the destination than the journey itself, I realized at that point that I was somewhat on top of the world. (at the very least, Batangas) The view simply took your breath away. Watching the darkness slowly enveloping the mountain peaks as the sun descended in the horizon, I was out of words. I simply had never seen anything like that in my life.

But all of that came crashing to a halt when our guide signaled us to proceed.

What the fuck? I thought we were here!!!

It turns out that the campsite was on the other side of the grassy knoll. Recovering from my brief WTF moment, I was happy to see that the trek to the campsite would be mercifully short. Sure enough, we got to the campsite just as the sun was setting. We managed to put up the tents and settle in to prepare for dinner. Interestingly enough, we managed to scrounge up a meal of chicken/pork adobo and Pork Sinigang. (YES, PORK SINIGANG. FOR THE LIFE OF ME I DON’T KNOW WHY THEY WANTED TO DO IT BUT I SWEAR TO GOD WE HAULED 2 Kgs OF PORK UP THE STUPID MOUNTAIN) The cold mountain air and the dark night served as the perfect backdrop for our best meal in the whole trip. Of course you have to realize that after walking for 4 hours and 30 minutes, the taste of food doesn't really matter. Boiled Cow Dung would probably taste like gourmet well-done steak to the weary mountaineer.

But of course if you think our adventure ends here... You are sorely mistaken. It turns out, this was only the beginning.

As the evening wore on, we eventually settled in and an alarming thickness of clouds was building up in the air. Not one to be daunted, our trek leader planned for us to wholly consume the Lambanog that we bought at the foot of the mountain. To be honest, I was not really keen on that idea to begin with as I didn't want to be nursing a hangover on the way down.

It turns out the cold mountain air does wonders to change one's mind about alcohol. (On a personal note for those who are not alcoholic, being way up high in the mountains is a surefire way to start the habit.)

By the time we got set up outside our respective tents, our nightmare would begin. At first there was the slight drizzle, most of us though we could take it but just as soon as we decide to brave the drizzle out, the drizzle becomes a slight pour. Forced to take refuge in one of the tents, our Alcoholics Anonymous reject of a trek leader begins passing the lambanog. As always I took the butt of the ribbing as is customary when I'm with this group. (or any group for that matter now that I think about it.)

As my friends merrily decided to have fun at my expense, I truly wondered why I decided to climbed this stupid mountain.

But the temper was eased with the alcohol I suppose because I went on ahead and laughed at myself anyway. And there we were up several hundred meters above sea level, having a good old smashing. And yes, I was thankful that they brought the lambanog. Eventually we got smashed enough and we decided to call it a night. All of us were sorely and desperately looking forward to the beach that was waiting for us the next day.

And then Nature decided to go ahead and fuck with us some more.

By the time I woke up, I felt something cold in my legs. It was already raining hard and the wind was whipping furiously at the tent. At first I was too smashed to notice but eventually I woke up to the realization that the tent was flooded!!! Yes and I mean Noah flooded. The cold was creeping up my body and my legs were shivering like crazy. I decided to wake Fort up and we eventually settled on taking refuge in the broken down old hut that we cooked our food in. When we got there, however, we realized just how dumb that idea was when we found that the open air was colder than the water and there was no place for us to lie down.

Desperately looking for shelter, we decided to split up and take refuge in what we thought to be water-tight tents. I guess I was out of luck when I got into the other tent and heard the ominous squish when I stepped inside the tent. By then Fort had already gone into the other tent and it was too late to knock on their door so to speak. Eventually I found myself sitting in the bigger tent and cursing this God-forsaken weather. Realistically, what are the odds of your first mountain experience being this bad?

I wanted a bonfire. I wanted to sleep in the cool mountain air and be woken to the light of the sun rising in the coast. This was not the camping trip I envisioned. For the whole time I sat there shivering in the cold water, I was plotting the many ways I could throw the engineer of this whole nightmare trip (Anthony) off the mountain.

Restless yet tired, I could not sleep or lie down without having water on my back and/or the tent slapping my face. I could hear the Mensa organizers laughing at me in my restless sleep:

"Yes dumbass, you ditched us for this. Seriously, we don't know how someone as dumb as you had the balls to try and apply for Mensa anyway." For some reason, my nightmare was eventually soothed by the image of Anthony flying down the mountain without a parachute.

So there I was shifting, rolling in the water and mud trying to get sleep. From across the tent I could hear Errol blissfully snoring despite the fact that he only had a blanket, he was wearing a thin shirt and shorts and his body was submerged in about half an inch of really cold rain water. This was the first time I realized that Errol could have slept through Armageddon and not realized that the world had already ended. No wonder he has trouble showing up for work earlier than 10 AM.

So there I was rolling around in the tent contemplating the different ways to jump off the mountain when I saw the most beautiful thing a man suffering through a mountain trip gone wrong could see:

The Dawn's first light.

I swear to God I heard Beethonven's Ninth Symphony playing as the sun's first light slowly crept into our tent. The storm was starting to blow itself out and the people in the camp were starting to stir.

When I got out of the tent, I was flabbergasted at the sight of the other mountaineers walking around their camp half-naked. Eventually, they explained that walking around in wet clothes in the cold air was worse than walking around without your shirt on. Sound as their argument was, I didn't listen. The air was just too fucking cold for my skin.

As we waited for our guide to come pick us up, we had breakfast and told tales of our stormy adventures in the tent. Unfortunately, I never got around to throwing Anthony off the mountain.

Eventually it was time for us to head down the mountain. Interesting to note that when we had our breakfast, we thought it would be a sunny climb down but just as we were finishing up packing, the drizzle started again. I immediately realized this would be a looooong trek down.

And it was. We slipped, we slid in the mud. We waded in the cold water. We fought our way down the mountain. And yes, it was just as difficult to get down as it was to climb. By the time we got to the last stop near the beach, I was just too pissed and angry to talk. And I guess people sensed my fury because everyone just wisely kept their distance.

By the time we got to the beach, most of us were just too spent to appreciate the beautiful resort that we were staying in. We were tired, muddy and sore by the time we got to La Luz beach resort. People who saw us probably told themselves, "Oh look, the savages have come down from the mountain."

I don't want to spend too much time detailing our stay at La Luz as we only mostly did two things: WE SLEPT AND WE ATE. And yes, we ate like we were starved for seven days. I basically just bit into everything in sight that I wasn't allergic to and everyone else, and I mean everyone else in the group, did nothing less.

So there, I survived Mount Daguldol. I got bitch-slapped, beaten down and I was sore for the next five days but as God Himself is my witness, I survived the mountain. More importantly, I survived it without murdering our chronically-late, alcoholic, lazy, fat, cigarette-smoking trek leader. And now, he's my housemate. (Yes, he's as much of a pain in the ass as a housemate as he was on our disastrous mountain trip.)

And here I am two months later writing about what was arguably one of the greatest and funniest adventures of my life so far. Looking back at it in hindsight, I appreciate it more now than I did at the time I was doing it. Now I could finally say that hey, I climbed a mountain and I survived. I don't know that I could ever bring myself to do it again but the whole experience was just so surreal. Of all the stupid things I've done in my life, this has to rank in the top 3. Will I ever do it again? I'm not completely sure than I'm physically capable. But hey, who knows?

All I know is that I climbed a mountain and I survived. Beat that with a stick Mensa.

P.S.

I dedicate this blog post to amazing and makulit survivors of the Mt. Daguldol experience and the the embryo we unknowingly climbed up the mountain with. ( Aleth, when your kid gets to read this someday (the censored version of course), it might make for an amazing story for his/her friends at school.)

I Am Nerd

I couldn't remember my old blogspot account for the life of me so I'm also republishing my post from my old blog:

Est Sularus Oth Mithas. No, do not bother looking it up a Latin dictionary. It only means something to Dragonlance readers. It means My Honor Is My Life. It is the motto of the Knights of Solamnia. If you don't know who they are, don't ask, I do not want to waste a perfectly good blog entry explaining who they are. I don't know why I chose that title. I'm not a particularly honorable person. Ask anybody I know, they'd probably laugh and roll over if you asked them if I was in any way honorable. Neither do I have any knightly characteristics. No I'm not chivalrous. I'd probably be the first to run away from a fight. (It just makes more sense to dodge flying fists than to meet them head on)

At any rate, this is my first post. And no, I did not start this blog for the sheer purpose of decorating it like my Friendster account. If you want to see fancy graphics, go to friendster. Otherwise, this is my BLOG. (I'm in IT and I still could not for the life of me explain why it is called a BLOG and not a Web Journal or something) If you want to get offended, angry or downright just want to say something or waiting for somebody else like me to say it, you've come to the right place. And no, you will not find me publishing goddamn song lyrics or poetry on this blog. No, i don't write poems anymore... not for a while now anyway... it took me 5 years to realize I really suck at poetry... when you're young and innocent, everything profoundly stupid coated in flowery words seem to sound nicer... when you get to my age, you just realize that your a trying-hard writer who writes bad poetry. Good thing I pursued an IT career and not a Writing one.... Chalk one up for good decision making!!!!

So where do I begin? Actually I started this Blog because I can't access my Friendster Blog at Globe during office hours. (Yes I write when I'm not swamped with work, so sue me) For the most part, writing helps me avoid the urge of whipping out a Tommy Gun and seeing if people here at Globe tower could tap dance while doing the Macarena. Also, it keeps the brain-dead long hours I spend here more bearable. Then again, this could just be a desperate call for help to draw attention to myself because I am a suicidal teenager who is angry at the world because I wasn't born a goddamn rockstar. (My god that is soooo generation x... and I don't mean that in a nice way)

Or I could just be pulling your leg because like me, you have nothing else to do and are trying to find meaning in your life by reading about other people's (meaning me) mundane existence. Don't worry I'll have more useless things for you to read... For now, Cheeri-o... Hasta La Vista...

My New Year's Resolution

This is a post from my friendster blog:

Dear You,

You should know that I write this for my sanity and for my freedom. I rarely make up New Year’s Resolutions (I barely even think about them for God’s sake) but I promised myself this year that I would make one and I will follow through on this one. This would be unique in that I would actually keep this one promise to myself.

Before I postulate on that single New Year’s Resolution, however, let me just provide a little background. For the whole year of last year, you’ve constantly occupied my thoughts. And while there’s the constant interference of work, life and just about everything else, I always knew that there was one thing that was constantly in my head: You.

Just as certain as I would fix a difficult bug, I could always trust myself to pull you out somewhere in the cluttered corners of the cobwebby attic that is my head. If you ask me, I don’t know what it is about you. I don’t even understand why I put you there up on that pedestal. It’s simply not something I normally do. I’ve only done that once before in my life and it never really turned out well.

At any rate, yes you were there in my head. For the most part, it was good. I didn’t mind. I like you. But the problem was that you stayed there and I found it difficult to displace you. No, it’s not your fault. You’re awesome the way you are I suppose and maybe that’s why you are difficult to displace. But, like I said, I’ve been here before. This is not my first tango so to speak.

And so I laid out the facts and I was honest with myself. The first and most important reason I would not say here lest you happen to read this blog and it would be too obvious. But even if the first reason wasn’t there as a hindrance, the 2^nd was enough for me to take action. What’s the 2^nd reason you say? You exist in another plane of existence. Another universe. We’re just so completely different, we live in different worlds. I couldn’t get to you if I tried. And don’t get me wrong, I’d be stupid enough to try even if it’s only to confirm that you’re not for me. Then again, who am I kidding right?

So here I am, one year later. Captain America is dead. Bruce Wayne is no longer Batman and Chuck still isn’t with Sarah. The world is a darker place. Is this why I’m doing this? No, not really. Mostly, I just feel sorry for myself that I keep pining for something that is impossible to attain. So yes, I’m doing what Joel did in Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind. I’m forcibly removing you from my head.

I need this for my sanity. I need this so that I can move on. I need this so that I can make the most out of what little time I have left to find the right one. I need this to finally exhale because I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for a whole year. And I realize now how idiotic and pointless the effort has been. But hey, I prayed, I hoped, I waited and… as is often the case with things like these, nothing happened.

But if you’re wondering if that’s my new year’s resolution, it’s not. My new year’s resolution is to finally say what I think about you. I don’t often put people in my head for no reason at all. I don’t often embarrass myself in front of others for the heck of it. I don’t make myself vulnerable for anyone who’s less than perfect. In short, I didn’t put you in my head just because you were the prettiest girl in the room.

If nobody’s told you before or you don’t believe it yourself, you are my idea of perfect. But my idea of perfection is not really free of flaws. You are flawed in more ways than one. But maybe it’s the flaws that highlight the good things about you. It is said that we are the sum of our parts and believe you me, I have never seen a symphony better assembled than you. You’re like an unfinished work of art, it’s not complete and yet, no matter how much you add, subtract to it, it still looks just… perfect.

And maybe that’s the problem. I don’t really feel like I’ve done enough in this world to deserve someone perfect because as most people would point out, I am flawed in many ways. There simply isn’t enough in this world to justify this idea of us I keep daydreaming about. And while the healthy proportion of my ego often demands a lot out of people, I actually feel that you’re one of the few people in this world that I would disappoint and I wouldn’t want to wish that on you. You have better choices and you deserve better.

But like only once before you, you are the perfection I could never deserve in this life. If anything, I am fortunate enough to be your friend. At least, we’ll always have that.

I don’t know the significance of the fact that I couldn’t get you out of my head for an entire year. Does it signify something deeper than infatuation? I can’t answer that. But I do like you the way you are and I’ll still like you no matter how much you change. But I can’t let you stay in my head because it’s starting to affect other parts of me that I would rather leave unharmed for now.

So, there, my new year’s resolution has been fulfilled. If you should read this and know that it’s really YOU I’m talking about, I’d just like to say thank you for being you. Whatever happens in this life, I’m always here to be a friend but nothing more.

I guess I’ll have to live with that.

Always,

Me