August

I don't like the month of August. It's a period of dread and boredom for me. I dread school. And I grow bored from the lack of holidays.. not that holidays are all that fun anyway. I don't like August because in Septembers, I go back to school. I become one year older. On my next birthday, I will be 19.. my last year as being a teenager, my last year as using 'teen' as an excuse for my playing childish. In one year, one month and one day, I will twenty. Good God, what happened to the first eighteen years of my life? Oh well, who's counting?

I just don't like August. I hate how the newspaper ads keep reminding me that one day soon I will have to go back to school and slave over endless essays and midnight cramming sessions.. not that I did cram. In fact I was pretty good at studying.

I don't know what I'm worried about. I just don't want my vacation to end.

Blah. I've been spending sometime trying to use my terrible Tagalog skills to translate Tagalog songs. Sometimes I wish I didn't translate it. "That's... it???" is my usual reaction to some of the cheesiest, unoriginal lyrics I have ever heard. Then again, my translation could be wrong or maybe I'm just understanding it the wrong way but I can't help thinking why some of the songs sound more beautiful when I didn't understand it.

Regardless, it's frustrating. I still have so much to learn. That's a no brainer but now there is no one to teach me. I asked my mom for help but it just makes me for frustrated.

My dad also bought me Tagalog romance novellas (they're really short, I don't think they can be called novels). I was a little disgusted at first. I can't even stand American romance novels. How am I suppose to stomach Tagalog love stories. Oh well. I accepted the books as 'learning material'. I'm grateful though. I'm not sure how much my dad paid for it while he was overseas in Hawaii but it sure beats me paying for those books at the expensive Filipino cultural store. At least I have something to read now.

My parents have screwed up schedules. Today, my mom and dad didn't even see each other the whole day. My dad came home for about two hours to eat but he had to go back to work. My mom was at work the whole time so she didn't see him. Sometimes, it's better that way because I don't have to deal with them stressing each other out. But it's kind of sad. They've been married for twenty some odd years now but the total amount of time they've actually been around is each is probably twelve years.

I don't even see my mom that much. I sleep late, wake up late. By the time I wake up, she's already gone to work. I think I do this on purpose. If I wake up too early, she'll be there nagging me about this and that. She can nag me but I don't like my day to be ruined. Maybe I only see my mom about an hour a day.

I've come to realize that I like it when my mom calls me "anak" or "anak ko" (my child). It lets me know that she appreciates me. (I think). And sometimes, she can say it at the right time. Her usual tone of voice is this tone of endless annoyance. I don't know why. I think my and my brother's heartbeat havev been conditioned to quicken at the sound of her voice. It always sounds like we're in trouble. Sometimes we'd ask her what pissed her off now she reassures us that that's just the way she talks. Or maybe she justs always annoyed. Who knows. But when she says "anak ko" she says it pleasantly. I think it's kind of hard to say it when you're mad. Usually when she's mad, there's some other Tagalog or Ilocano terms to fill in for Anak. But it's nice, hearing "anak ko" even though I'm getting older. I still know I'm her child.

Freed

For a while, I feel that I have freed myself of material wants. For some reason, I feel perfectly content not wanting anything. I can stroll into a store and not feel deprived. I'm content. Of course, there are books I want to read and movies that might be worth watching but that's what the library is for. There were so many things I wanted to own but I don't care anymore. Of course there are still a few things out there that I want. But I think that they are things that I really want for myself rather than for impressing people.

This even goes toward video games and TV. I was more of a video game junkie than a TV zombie but now I try to stay away from the TV. I still play every now and then. I flip on the TV once in a while but it only takes me a few second of channel surfing to remember that there is nothing ever on worth wasting my time. Yes, I still can't figure out what I do all day.

But I wonder what made me feel this way. Probably capitalism. Or just a rekindled interest in books. Or perhaps just lack of money. Haha.

Playing Hookie

So much is happening but I don't feel like writing about it. Today, Xab and I ditched our last day of Tagalog class. We've had perfect attendance the whole session but it's been dragging, so we just didn't go. Instead, we bought a boogie board and went to the beach. The waves were merciless. And I don't know how to swim. But I rode a couple waves. Once, accidently, the waves carried me all the way back to the shore. Right after I finally made it to where I wanted to be.

It was pretty fun. Not knowing how to swim I usually just go into the water until the surface touches my knees. But after almost drowning a couple times under the waves, that whole bit is pretty boring now. Now, if only I can figure out this whole kicking, floating bit.

Homecoming

On monday, my dad was expected to arrive so the relatives from Florida decided to delay their itinerary one day to see my dad. My dad's first cousin wanted to see him because they say that they haven't seen each other for at twenty year, ever since they both joined the US navy. Unfortunately, my dad never arrived on Monday. But I got to meet a couple of my second cousins (I don't know if that term is correct but that's what we use in my family). They didn't seem all that interesting. They probably didn't find me interesting either. "Okay, another cousin. yay." But one of the cousins I met is from the Philippines and is a year younger than me. She was the one that tried out of all of us, to get to know another one of the cousins. We were playing Guestures when we invited anyone to play but she was the only one that came and played with us. We got along pretty well. She smiled at me when we were introduced. Her brother did nothing but glare at me. So whatever. I really don't think anything about people who glare at me. I just tell myself that they have something in their eye, they're just pissed at something else, they're too good to get to know me: they're just be foolish. Even her mom. My uncle is pretty friendly to me. I can actually hold a conversation with him, but my auntie. Eesh. I ask her a question and suddenly the room temperature drops ten degrees and she just says nothing. Something weird with that family. One half is too good to talk to me and the other half is pretty friendly. It balances out.

Prayer

My visiting grand-aunts came to my house today. They're very religious. I was going to go on how I couldn't make sense of the whole prayer thing. Of course, I understand that it's good for the human soul but does God is really listening to all the prayers that we memorize and recite 10 and 20 times over? He must be bored of it. But I'll stop right there.

Anyway, they decided to hold a prayer for my brother so that God would heal him. It was really not the right time for me, but it wasn't for me. I listened in anger as they prayed for him. Perhaps they have forgotten what he did. Even though it wasn't much. He does it so many times, punching my mom and sometimes me, giving us emotional grief. I was angry. I was selfish. But I just couldn't understand. After everything my brother was putting us through, he was the one to receive the prayers. It just didn't matter. Maybe I'm just suppose to get hit and yelled at and be called a bitch. It just doesn't matter.

They prayed on and on and eventually I just stopped listening. It was inhuman of me, unfaithful of me. But I just couldn't take it. It wasn't really a spiritual thing. It was more like a summary of my entire relationship with my brother. In the end, all that is seen is not my achievements, just his handicaps. I am concealed in his 'crippled' shadow. I am not seen. I think this is a little beyond that whole jealous oldest sibling thing. It's not that I am forgotten; I just don't count. My trials are nothing compared to his, I guess that's how people see it. But dammit, at least I try. I try. He just accepts it. I try.

I started thinking about other things. They began to cry. Tears were welling in my eyes, too. Angry tears. So I began to think:

"When this is over... what will I do... I think I'll check the mail... no, today is Sunday. What can I do? Oh this isn't working, I can still hear them. I say the alphabet. Yes, I'll recite the alphabet.. and attach words to it... A... Alabaster... B... Bromide...C... Chiasm... I can't remember what comes after C. I'll just skip to F... Florida... hey, they're from Florida... H... Halitosis... um... M... hey... look at my little cousin and how bored he looks... look at my brother and how defiant and proud he looks... no, don't look at him... look at your slippers... yes, your toes are wiggling... that's distracting..."

Sibling rivalry. I just wish God didn't have to be involved in it.