Apr 28 2012
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Apr 27 2012
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Apr 26 2012
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Apr 25 2012
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Apr 23 2012
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We never met.
He’d always pop up online on my Grindr from when it was first launched. Sickness of early adopters, I guess. He’d eventually watch me in other gay social network sites. He won’t really add me up, but he never failed to throw a few words of admiration when I upload new pictures. We swapped numbers. We’d talk about life in the US, life in PI, we’d talk about work, or I’d listen to him snort as he tells me that he doesn’t mind talking to me so late at night since he was having a break from a conference call. He worked nights here. Which was fine because that would be daytime back where he’s originally from. He’d brag about his comic collection, one of the finest in NYC, or so he claims. And he’d never apologize for speaking his mind. Remember that episode in Will & Grace where Grace argues with Will about how he has this way of saying things that sound like he’s sorry, but he never is? He was like that. He couldn’t really care if he offended me. There were times I’d say I was offended. He’d just say some permutation of “your problem, not mine”. I won’t speak to him for some time, then he’d message me to say hi or ask how I was doing. I’d give him one word answers, but somehow, he’d just get me to talk to him. My fondest conversation with him was around early March just last year. I was high from shrooms and tipsy from shots walking from Station 2 back to my hotel in Station 1 in Boracay. After I had dropped my friend who stayed at a hotel closer to where the parties were at, I rang him and asked him to keep me company as I made my way back amidst some really funky hallucinations. He was in a conference call, but he dropped it and stayed with me over the air. I sat by the sand and we just talked nonsense until I felt ounces of sobriety coming back to me. When I made it to my room, he messaged me to see if I was safe. But that I only saw the morning after. Or was it the afternoon after. We told each other we’d meet up for coffee, or lunch, or dinner countless times. The last time we talked, we argued at how he never bothered to add me on Facebook. And his matter-of-factly demeanor got the best of me after he says “I don’t feel the need to.” So he never did. Tonight Facebook suggested I add him as a friend. His profile bore the signature photo he uses in most social networking sites I’ve seen him on. This was the first time I found out his real last name too. In my phonebook he was always Ed Sadi. Then I browsed his albums and I saw pictures of him in the ICU. Then I read the comments. I checked his wall posts. He’s gone now.
Ed Linger, wherever you are, I miss you.
Apr 22 2012
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Are you in the market for a used desktop?
I’m letting go of my 20-inch iMac (2009) 2.66 GHz Intel Core 2 Duo. I’ve got a pretty insane deal for it actually. You can Message me for inquiries. :)
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So just why am I pissed at my dad for trading the iPhone 4S that I got him, for a Lenovo S800?
Because in the first place, I had no intention of buying him one. He asked me to get him one, but I hesitated because he has issues with touchscreen use. Upon seeing me get one for my brother, he reiterated his desire to also have one so I caved in. With the promise of exerting the effort to learn touchscreen use. “Iba na ako ngayon. Kaya ko ‘yan. (I’m different now. I can do this.)” he said.
He used it for two days and went back to his trusty Nokia. He kept bringing it with him every now and then just to show me that he has it. Then a few weeks back he asked me to reset all the data. I had a feeling he was gonna sell it off and he validated my concern. I got (then) mildly frustrated and dissuaded him from doing so. He appeased me and said he won’t. Then I walk in from a full day of workouts and the first thing I see, he’s using a Lenovo S800.
Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if he traded in the phone for a newer Android, or an iPad. But no. He traded down. In what universe would you wanna trade down? As I write this, how white steam is still coming out from my ears and my nose, not because he reacted to me about my reaction, but because my mom just walked up to me saying that he reacted to her about how I called his attention for getting a lower tier device. Are you still following me?
I swear, if you visit my house and find a pair of balls from some nook or dark corner (why would you be setting sights on some nook and dark corner of our home anyway?), kindly return them to my dad. I love him (though reading this might make you think otherwise) and all, but the older he gets, the harder it is to understand him.
Ang hirap talaga magpalaki ng magulang. Let me end on a nice note. Since he accepted me for being gay (actually, more like he had no choice because I couldn’t care any less what he’d think or do about it because I’d stand up for myself regardless), I shall accept him for being… Different.
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