Suffice it to say that it's a challenging thing, trying to capture the very essence of my being with infinite permutations of the letters of the alphabet (or words) but let's face it, it's not like I have anything better to do with my time.

Lest you raise your eyebrows and exclaim "how pathetic a life this girl leads!", let me just clarify that I do have things to do and people to see, I think. I just don't feel like it which aside from proving that your earlier conclusion that I am as lame as lame can be is right, probably says a lot about my personality. I've been told that I can make this existence more worthwhile but I never get around to actually getting around and when I do, I don't finish anythi.

Aside from plates and plates of food, that is. People tend to be confused with my need to eat something at all times and that's not the only thing they don't understand about me. I'm sorry but how the heck do you think I feel? I've been putting up with my inability to walk a meter without tripping over my own feet, bumping into a stack of someone else's belongings, sending projectiles flying in multiple directions across the room and eventually hitting my crush with a surprisingly bone-shattering force right on his freaking nose for 18 mortifying years.

So you must think you're doing me a favor by pointing out my inability to interact in a social environment without embarrassing myself and saying things like "something weird always happen to you" but save yourself the trouble. You're not telling me anything that I didn't know in the first place and there's no way you can make me feel any more of a loser as I already do, so just suck it up and wait for some person who can spare a minute to pretend that he actually gives a damn about the crap that comes out of your mouth.

On to the blog then.

I think that the key to appreciating the short story My Father Goes to Court (Carlos Bulosan) is in not taking it too seriously. While it's tempting to criticize how it can never take place in real life, in view of the fact that the wealthy in this country have no need for a judge in court when they have judge on the street armed with a rifle (I'm kidding, I'm kidding), and even if they could, the poor family could be thrown into jail for contempt or something after pulling a stunt like that, it's just a simple story that aims to identify Filipino values.

Although I definitely agree that some Filipinos have to stop being too happy go lucky and start taking things in a more mature manner, we should never be deprived of finding joy in our activities because in such trying times, like the ones we are currently facing, everyone needs a good, hearty laugh.

You know the one I'm talking about, the type that turns your face into the most unattractive and disturbing shade of red and makes your side and back ache so badly as your tears fall along with every ounce of dignity and every guise of poise you hoped to have. It won't bring food to the table or clothe your children's backs but it helps alleviate stress and release tension which makes us feel better and you know what they say about a worker who feels better! You don't? Sorry, I invented it just now. Anyway, a worker who feels better works a little harder but don't think that you can laugh away your worries. A positive attitude goes hand in hand with actual labor.

Penned by Manuel Arguilla, the next story entitled How my Brother Leon Brought Home a Wife hits closer to home for me. I'm familiar with what Leon must have felt, torn between his own happiness and what his family must feel is best and Maria's desire to get along with her in-laws. In the same way I am no stranger to the emotions coursing through Baldo. I can vividly recall the first few instances wherein I appreciated the subtle characteristics of that of the opposite sex and up to now, I constantly seek my elders' approval.

I can almost picture in my mind their family impatiently waiting for their brother's arrival, secretly wondering what his wife would be like, how she would look or what she would say, but no one daring to utter a word, for fear of offending their dear father who must have had his reservations about the whole deal.

Perhaps he thought he was losing his panganay to some city girl who obliges him to work himself half to death just to meet her whims and caprices, so she can buy the latest clothes from fancy catalogues or maybe he was offended that the life that he worked hard to offer his family was not enough, that his son did not want to settle with a probinsyana whose rough, calloused hands were used to work as Leon toiled day in and day out in the fields or plantations with his father as he had always done.

Responsibility for the family's welfare, hospitality, concern about what others might think and the occasional bouts of insecurity are common in every Filipino family, but above this, as observed in how the father became more open when he heard that his son and his son's wife sang the song they used to sing, proving that things were not as bad as he has been afraid it would be, we love our family without question. Not a single one.

Labels: Arguilla, Blog Post 1, Bulosan, LitFili, Siriban