The joy of independence

This year marks my 10th year as a totally independent guy. Quite late, I know. I only got out of my comfort zone, which was my parents’ home back in the province, at age 26. This I did after a long day-to-day contemplation regarding the struggles I had in such a conventional, narrow-minded community and, worse, in an old-school home environment run by no less than my father.

I finished school at the age of 19 and started working plainly a month after graduation. Unfortunate as it was, my first employment was in that state university where my parents were key people. So instead of employment liberating me, it even required me to readjust to an environment where I had to see my Dad’s face everyday (I used to be half-independent during college; I was away from home).

The 6 years of stay in my parents’ home, I can say, was really more of pain than glory. I was with a father who thought he could control everything, even my thinking, and with a mother who was luckily in my line of thinking and in the same boat with me but, unfortunately, could not do anything, and who just gave her support (emotional, financial, etc) to me UNDER THE TABLE (literally).

But the fighter that I was, I still managed to survive in that house. Within those years, I let my Dad realize that having me at home as a “grown-up working professional” and having me before “as a kid” were two entirely different things. There was constant action and drama, PLUS ENDLESS ACCUSATIONS OF DISRESPECT, but I didn’t damn care, and at the time I left, I could say I had taught him half the lesson.

Still I left, because I got fed up trying to plant in an old-school mind even just the smallest seeds of RESPECT – for one’s existence, for one’s space, and worse, for letting live. Worst reason — the house all of us were staying in was actually company property; anybody who worked there was entitled to rent it. Simply put, the three of us had EQUAL RIGHTS to live in that house because we were all employed there. So what made my dad think it was HIS home? And what made him behave as if he was “KING” and my mom and I were his “SUBJECTS,” when all three of us were equally contributing to the household expenses and, left alone by himself, he could not even afford to sustain us? Just what gave him that stupid sense of ENTITLEMENT?

The ultimate solution: LEAVE! And so I did.

Going back, honestly, this thing about old-school mentality is very difficult to explain. Although it may be known to anybody, I am not also sure if everybody hates it. Oh well, I’m quite sure I hate it, and I curse it on top of my lungs. Yes, I am willing to shout out all curses I know when this topic comes up, as I really DESPISE such way of thinking.

In as much as I hated my dad for it, the same was also true with my aunt in the USA who considers me no less than her own child (that’s according to her). She is somebody who thinks even WORSE, and this is because of her fanaticism of that rotten catholic religion. She would impose a regimented life on anybody who stays in her house — fixed time for six meals a day, definite days and time for those stupid mass services, and worst of all, going to CONFESSION – WTF, DO NOT IMPOSE THAT ON ME OR HELL WILL BREAK LOOSE, idiot!. Call me names — evil, disrespectful, impolite, liberated, whore, bitch — the hell I care.

Where do these people get the nerve TO CONTROL MY LIFE WHENEVER I AM IN THEIR HOMES? Don’t they realize that it only pisses me off all the more and everything IS TO THEIR DISADVANTAGE? Is it really too difficult to realize (moreso, RESPECT) that this certain person is OLD ENOUGH, is LEADING A GOOD LIFE, has PROVEN HIS WORTH, and has FULL CAPACITY TO BE SUSTAINING HIMSELF? After all, I never lacked in concern for these people and in extending necessary help, need be! Why treat a grown-up professional, who has his own thinking, as a STUPID OR DUMB KID? Do THESE PEOPLE really ITCH TO EXERCISE FALSE AUTHORITY, and virtually DIE if they cannot? Is it really very difficult to differentiate between when you can be in control and when you should respect that this person HAS A LIFE?

Difficult as it is to burn ass everyday to sustain your daily needs and your “decent” lifestyle, the joy comes with seeing yourself NOT DEPENDING ON ANYBODY. Now that was why I chose to be independent and to live in the metropolis. The fulfillment is there; it is living my life without nobody watching — if i feel like going out, staying home, eating only twice a day, not having dinner, not having breakfast, eating six times a day, working graveyard shift today, working day shift tomorrow, going home in the morning today, going home in the evening the next day, not sleeping today, sleeping off my whole free day, sleeping at daytime, sleeping in someone else’s house, drinking at a friend’s house, fucking my guy in my house, or fucking anyone anywhere, I CAN DO IT.

After all (thanks to Mom), I am educated (and oh, thanks to that 6-year work experience back home, no matter how full of shit) and experienced enough to EARN MY OWN BREAD and to LIVE MY OWN LIFE. So why fuck’n subject myself to some OLD-SCHOOL WAY OF LIFE and to some FALSE AUTHORITY?

I HATE AUTHORITY. Especially FALSE AUTHORITY. I don’t need it, and I’m too SMART for it. The approach NEVER WORKS FOR ME, ANYTIME, ANYWHERE. I can be completely independent and a nonconformist to EVERYTHING — religion, familism, politics, value systems, cultures, etc. Hence, I will do what i want to do, according to what I BELIEVE is right (i mean, it may not be right for those conventional, old-school, dumb and stupid fanatics and/or idiots, but who fuck’n cares?). I’m old enough to know what is right, and I believe I’m learned, exposed, and SMART enough to practice it and to manage my life to my comfort and taste. Lest I forget, I’m GAY and proud of it, so I always say, IF OLD-SCHOOL THINKING SPELLS MASCULINITY, then by all means, LET ME BE GAY!

I DON’T NEED ANYBODY TO FINANCE ME TO LIVE and, thus, be held in the neck and pulled by the tail. I can do it myself. I can pay for my own home, food, and luxury. Should I get in DEEP SHIT, these people DO NOT NEED TO KNOW. I can get out of that SHIT myself. I CAN LIVE. My life can be simple, but happy and FREE.





Stupid grade school biblical tale

When I was little, I was always into reading, the NERD that I was. Whenever my parents would bring me to a mall or department store, should they lose sight of me, they would never get upset; there were only two places where I could be found – the bookstore or the record bar.

During my grade school days at a government elementary school, I was so fond of reading those English storybooks that were supplemental to our English textbooks. I’d seclude myself in one corner and read during recess time rather than play useless games outside that would only lead me to a fight with the bullies.

Today, maybe 26 years after, I suddenly remember one story that I read, the utter STUPIDITY of which makes me furious. It was either from the book “BUILDING ENGLISH SKILLS” or “MORE STORIES ON PARADE” – I can’t figure out exactly. It makes me wonder how the Department of Education has been educating our grade school kids and what kind of thinking they have been trying to inculcate in their poor little minds.

The story was about a family who ran out of money and had nothing to eat one day. The mother was desperate in finding ways. However, no store would extend her credit as she had unpaid dues with everybody. And so, SHE PRAYED to god. After praying, she approached, for the second time, the owner of the biggest store on their street and asked if she could charge some goods. The store owner, maybe tired of her, said yes, but on one condition: NOT BEYOND THE FIRST TICK OF THE WEIGHING SCALE. The mother got some rice, canned goods, sugar, vegetables, cooking oil, and bread and put them on the scale. To her surprise, the scale didn’t move a bit! [Prayers answered???] The store owner was equally surprised and speechless [Oh Yeah???] and, left with no choice, stuttered, “Is that all?” Moral of the story: PRAYERS CAN MOVE MOUNTAINS.

HOLY SHIT! What was the author thinking when he wrote this story?? If I were the store owner, why should I believe that with all that stuff on the scale, it wouldn’t move? If I were the mother, on the other hand, how dumb of me to seize the “opportunity” to put everything I need on that scale and HOPE AGAINST HOPE it wouldn’t move and/or rejoice deep inside at the fact that it didn’t move at all! HOW STUPID OF ALL OF THEM NOT TO REALIZE THAT THERE WAS SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE SCALE!

The most stupid thing of all is the Department of Education approving the publication of such story in some grade school English book. Did it ever cross their minds that anything taught to a child in his formative years is very difficult to unlearn? Did they ever consider that the heaviest part of educating our children is GIVING THEM A FIRM GRASP OF REALITY and not creating UNREALISTIC scenarios on the manifestation of [the useless] god’s mercy? Did they ever realize that what they published could affect a child’s ability to distinguish fact from fancy?

It was good I was the only one who got too interested in those books back in grade school as they were just piled up and gathering dust in one corner. Thank goodness only a few kids then had enough facility to understand English literature. Thank heavens everybody else wanted to play outside. Otherwise, a greater number of kids would have been exposed to such misleading, senseless tale. There could be more; who knows?