Boomer Journals 6 – Washing Dishes With Pail and a Makeshift Dipper

We were having problems with our subdivision’s water supply. Whether it’s scarcity from the supply line or mismanagement in the distribution, only heaven knows how pissed we already were. The word ‘pissed’ by the way is already a watered down understatement of our mounting frustrations.

I felt the brunt of the unpleasant experience one night while washing the dishes using a plasticware for a makeshift dipper and a pailful of water saved the other day. While I was able to tame my grumbling self, I failed to do the same for my legs and my back brought about by standing for too long while looking dejectedly at the open, dropless faucet.

And tomorrow came.

Hopeful though I was with the dawning of the new day, I abandoned all hopes of having a running water in our tap.

Then evening came.

The dreaded moment of washing the dishes with a makeshift dipper and a pailful of water is mocking me right in my face once again. But before plunging into foretold misery, I opened the faucet with my eyes narrowed anticipating for the worst.

But lo and behold, water came out where I was expecting air! This was another instance in my life where I felt so good having my expectations proven wrong.

No more dipping tonight. And tonight, I told myself, I’m gonna be washing soap sods off kitchenwares on running water.

Suddenly, something dropped onto the plate I was holding. It was only then that I realized I was in tears. I was so fucking happy that I cried.

Boomer Journals 5 – That One Downside of Learning to Play the Guitar

 

The type of voice that I envied when I was younger was a deep bass voice. I thought it would have been much cooler rather than this baritone, especially when in a choir.

By the way, is it at all possible to train your voice to reach a lower range? I thank heavens that I didn’t have any of it if ever there were such lessons.

Then I learned to play the guitar. I never attained the caliber of Kirk Hammet or Slash by the way, despite that I’ve been aching for a kick ass talent such as theirs. But I can proudly say that I’m much better than someone who just started to hug the six-string.

Videoke would have been perfect but it wasn’t that common back then. Our only access to music was either by radio or Walkman. Or by means of a six-string which I immediately indulged myself into.

I thought it was already cool to be able to jam with a six-string, to sing and all that, be it in a crowd or in one’s alone time. I was even able to enhance it to a certain extent.

And then I discovered a problem. It wasn’t a big deal at first but it had been bugging the hell out of me ever since for years:

I couldn’t sing most of the songs I love in the same pitch as the original singer’s. If I ever do finish a song, it is with a lot of difficulty. That difficulty I attribute to playing the guitar.

Why? You see, there is a standard tune for the key of C, for example, which of course you will never be able to tune your guitar into unless you have a tuned piano nearby. In most cases, people (me included) don’t care at all if the key of C isnt the same as the standard so long as you can enjoy the moment and cajole the instrument to your heart’s content. So the pitch where you sing the song becomes totally different from the pitch of the original.

And only when you sing along with the radio or in a videoke will you realize that you’ve been duped into believing that you can sing like Steve Perry. Depressing isn’t it?

Maybe if I just focused all my juvenile energies back then trying to improve my range instead of learning to play the guitar, I now would have been singing ala Moriuchi Takahiro, Brandon Boyd, Zach dela Rocha, or the front man of the attached video, eh?

Boomer Journals 4 – Cartoons er… Uh-nuh-meis

You got caught in the gut.

You swore you saw that coming, the famed diabolical fist emerging from the side. At first, the sight of his right cross was nothing but a mere pathetic weather disturbance. But in only a split second you know fully well that it will turn into a category IV hurricane which devastates everything it landed on based on history. And now it’s headed in full force towards your defenseless midsection.

For a fraction of a second you inhaled, in an attempt to stiffen your core to hopefully mitigate the resulting damage from the incoming devastating blow.

Then his fist made contact, and it was much more powerful than the hell you expected it to be. Suddenly there was a vacuum out of nowhere. All the air stored in your lungs got sucked away in an instant. And that vacuum now threatens to suck your soul as well, like a blackhole tearing piece by piece his captive star, an unfortunate unwitting victim who dared to cross the event horizon of no return.

As your legs buckled, you started to go down. Your eyesight fading slowly. You saw your opponent grinning, cocky sure that he finally put your lights out as he bid you his final ‘sweet dreams’.

You are sure as hell to hit the canvass any second from now. Strange but you momentarily forgot the pain from the impact until you realized you’re caught in a flashback. Once again you saw the reasons why you decided to turn pro: your mom, hands together praying for your safety; your siblings expecting the championship belt from you; and the instance you finally decided to own your life and become the warrior you always envisioned yourself to be.

After like an hour of being suspended in mid air, you decided it was too soon to give up. Suddenly, your legs regained their strength that once again established your balance.

On your way up, your right fist started to launch like a rocket, accelerating from zero to devilish speeds in a split second. Your opponent whose feet were grounded in fear upon seeing the dead rise again, can only gasp in horror as you gave him a dose of his own medicine when you hit him with all you’ve got in the midsection and throwing him five meters from you in the process, his body giving a loud thud as it kissed the canvass good night.

There he lays on his back, oblivious to the ten counts of the referee and hands waiving in the air signifying that it’s all over. Panting hard, you still can’t believe you came out of that alive and yet you were there, finally a title holder and it wasn’t a dream!

X – X – X – X – X

It’s hilarious recalling these moments from this cartoon [relax, triggered weebs and otakus, it’s “uh-nuh-mei” right? XD]

But it sure brings back good old childhood memories, including the opening sound track. Who says only American rock can only produce this much hype? You’re missing out if you don’t get to hear J-Rock!

Boomer Journals 3 – Power Outages Expose the Buck Nakedness of Our Souls

A couple of predicaments we faced the morning after a hell of a night of a ferocious typhoon: the lack of water and electricity. It would have been manageable if at least the water supply was spared even if the power is out. The typhoon however, had been too kind not to take one without the other.

So we had no water and no electricity. That’s fine. At least the roof stayed intact despite the sustained strong winds, flood never made it inside the house and most importantly there’s food.

But of course one must not get stuck on either feeling sorry or overwhelming gratitude. You gotta get going because life must, well you know, go on.

No H2O

Thankfully we had more than enough drinking water so consequently, cooking isn’t going to be an issue. Except that you will need something to wash the dishes, the “kaserola” and the “kaldero“. And(!), to flush the pungent toilet bowl saturated with piss. Not to mention the dreaded instance when you have to answer an urgent call from nature.

The good news though was that our neighbors from the adjacent village offers potable water. The bad news is, it was 50 meters or so from our house and I have nothing but sheer muscle power.

I can’t help but remember my childhood when I used to fetch water from a pump well, pail by pail until the 150 liters container is filled including the “kambong” or “tapayan“, an earthen drinking water container.

“kambong” in Iloko and “tapayan” in TagalogAdd caption

Those required serious muscle moments as well.

While I seem to reminisce those memories with relish, those were unpleasant but necessary chores essential to maintain the balance of everyday living. But even if it was uncool, they taught me a lot about the nuts and bolts of existence. Those were instances where you don’t have a choice but to embrace the suck that comes with it and utter expletives inorder to let off steam.

There’s plenty of time to do that anyway, while hauling water from a distance. If there’s one thing you will be proud to rediscover about yourself and humanity in general, it is the fact that we are natural polyglots when it comes to the sweet science of swearing.

No electric current

My phone’s battery went dead so I couldn’t keep myself busy online to temporarily forget about our misery.

I don’t mind that I didn’t know what’s happening online. I can live with that anyway. And besides, there are more pressing issues such as having dinner before dark and getting ourselves ready for bed before sundown in order to extend the life of a lone candle up until 8:00 PM.

We have trees all around our small house so humidity is not an issue. Mosquitoes are but a minor annoyance as well, thanks to our “moskiteros” which also serve as balms to our feet.

It’s been years if not decades since I experienced days on end without electricity. But at least I have those past experiences to tap into so I knew exactly what to expect. The kids however do not have anything at all except this one, their first time.

It’s tough to see them lamenting about our predicament. But at least they now have their first ever experience of what it feels like without power.

Those two nights were dark and quiet with only a few lit candle sticks illuminating homes in our neighborhood. Not eerie though but peaceful. Flashbacks of farm life flooded my consciousness where we had to go to bed before 8:00 in the evening. I got used to it before that I can say I enjoyed the dark, the sound of crickets, the stories needed to get us drowsy, and the company of family.

Finally – and there was light

It took three days and two nights before power was restored. The water supply however took more than a week after to go back to normal.

The momentary absence of electricity and water supply can teach a lot about ourselves. Yes, the absence of our basic comforts can be a blessing if only show our nakedness. We are closer to our souls when our attachments which we often mistook as our main identity and the end all and be all of our being, are lifted off our shoulders. For some, power interruption is enough to get their souls buck naked. For others, it would take more than that to expose their nakedness.

And then there was light, finally.

My reflections borne out of blackout and interrupted water service served me well towards another illuminated outlook at life as well as a short-lived entertainment. But of course, along with everybody else, this boomer was glad the electricity was back!

Boomer Journals 2 – Of Heaven and Angels

 

Without cellular phones back in the days, what we’re left with to entertain ourselves most of the time is our imagination. They often come in handy, regardless if you’re asleep or not. Those momentary respites from reality can be disturbing but still something to be thankful for nonetheless, because they provided entertainment.

Just like that one time while I was driving somewhere in Cubao. I saw this chic, a beautiful lady behind the wheels. The mere sight of her casted a spell on me that I instantaneously followed her car. I just noticed a second too late as I was making a turn that another vehicle is speeding towards me, tires screeching, horns blaring, and all. And it was lights out after that.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself in the hospital. Things were a bit gray and I’m a bit groggy but I remember seeing mom by my side. She assured me that my attending physician is her personal choice and that I’d be alright.

Just as I was struggling to get myself together, the nurse in full regalia of an angel in white and the face and body of Aphrodite’s proportion entered and was headed towards me. And even as I am yet in delirium, I managed to ask her:

“♬♪Ale, nasa langit na ba ako?♩♪♫♬”

Boomer Journals 1 – Concrete Nails

What irked the working man before, is the toughness of the concrete wall/floor. Because it entails blistered palms due to several hammer blows just to drive a concrete nail through it.

What’s so stressful nowadays however, is you can’t even drive a concrete nail with a second blow without the freaking nail getting bent out of shape.

That’s how it used to.

When the going is unyielding just like the obstinate wall/slab, you don’t bend your stand and your principles on the first resistance. And there are instances when you have to stand your ground instead of taking a detour. In those times what you have to do, or what you have to be, is to be obstinate yourself.

Toughness like the quality that previous concrete nails exhibit, does not mean the absence of any traces of fear, nor the lack of doubts and tears. Toughness is staying true to the mission despite the fact that it may take more than one, tens, hundreds or even thousands of blows.

It’s about getting tougher and holding the line until you finally pierce that shit.

Damn modern day concrete nails…



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