i wrote this way back nung May, May ata. di ko a maalala.
a letter to the future mahjong mates. current beer buddies. and to those still with internet access by the year 2014
to my dear friends and hopefully mahjong mates,
hopefully you are reading this five years from now as i’m writing this (read:may 31, 2010). the sentence structure from the previous sentence is confusing but i have no idea how to correct it as i have gone for almost 2 years without writing in english. must i remind you about our pathetic attempt at College and how as a whiny teenager we cried “burnout! burnout!” in the walled city.
my standing point for this love - luv letter is exactly that, our pathetic attempt at college and my wishes or rather our wishes of espresso machines, chopsticks and soil under our nails.
if you haven’t been paying attention it’s may 2010, so the elections have just finished. just a month before the start of Noynoy’s term, and congratulations to you for lasting five years and not contemplating on joining the New People’s Army out of annoyance to the current regime, his family’s hate tirade on the farmers they owe their wealth to and this fucked up shit of a system that we call democrashit.
have you finished college? by then, i might still be unemployed. right now my sister is grieving over the 2nd year anniversary of her unemployment. though, i must say she is living with undeniable glamor for a bum. i can’t say the same for myself because i used up all of parent’s optimism in me for “failing” at two colleges, as my brother would call it being palpak sa buhay.
i hope you guys are finished with college with a Bachelor’s Degree, though a certificate course is certainly a prudent choice, because by the time i’m finished with school there may be a small rate of college graduates for that year seeing that tuition hikes are all the rage right now and the hip thing to do is privatize public institutions and let’s not forget turn public schools into malls. i maybe lucky, crossing my fingers.
hopefully in the five years as of this writing i have traveled an extensive amount living from province to province teaching people how read and write, i might not have told you this before. because it wasn’t the “punk rock” thing to say back then, but i wanted to be a teacher so i could go to distant provinces, illiterate kids make me cry even more so illiterate adults. remember how we used to talk about going to ilocos and baguio and my not so recent trip added another province to our list, cagayan valley. hopefully, we have our own DSLRs by then. and i’d have bought the docs (marten’s) we talked about, the one we saw on tumblr. all that plus, getting our bodies back in shape. losing the 15kg i gained before colege. *tears. and Cherish (the Cherish joy madlang awa) being able to wear sleevless tops again.
remember i told you about my current uhg! cringe i hate this evil evil cutesy shit of word oh crap, boyfriend. the marriage thing, honestly, i might not be married by then. well, i’m too young. all that crap was melodramatic honey moon phase shit kilig stuff anyway. i spit at the concept of love and it being true and withstanding. spit at it with all my phlegm.
you know that’s not true, but i’m too bad ass for that. fuck the powlis!
i hope you guys are not stuck in a call center, it’s a good spring board i guess. hopefully all our idealism would not blow up on our face. especially not for the benefit of our parents telling us in a mocking voice “i told you so”. let’s not be stuck in a 9 to 5 job, under payed or even contractual.
hopefully by the time you get this our rock star dreams would have at least a standing point. then, i wouldn’t have to be afraid of having no country for old men, or women in our case. maybe that’s why we cringed at the thought of growing up it’s not the decaying and looking ugly part. it’s the fear of having nothing happen to our lives and yet we exist, mind my tumblr cliche, dragging our feet, breathing but not living. with not even our youth to help us get by.
so this letter hopefully will be a reminder, if ever in the future i may lose my guile and zeal of life, oh! self righteous whore that i am. slap this in my face and do point out my powersuit if ever i am in one.
please! please, remind me Cherish of a conversation we had in a stationary tricycle just outside your house. i will not carry my parents goads, because i have a life to live and it’s already fucked up now as it is. no owns me, no one should tell me what i can, what i should believe in, what my convictions are and what i want to be.
