Where's Noah when you need him?

I suppose it’s a fair question: why haven’t I addressed the devastation of Tropical Storm Ondoy (a.k.a. Ketsana–isn’t that so much sexier?) in this blog? Shouldn’t I have devoted at least one measly entry to the lives lost, the homes submerged, the roads-turned-rivers, and the subsequent “bayanihan spirit” that came over Metro Manila and the rest of the country? Couldn’t I have somehow given tribute to the dead, to the heroes, and to the dead heroes of the calamity? Am I that dense and uncaring??

Well, I like to think not. My answer to those questions, in fact, is quite simple: I don’t feel deserving to talk about any of it. For the following reasons:

1. I was not a victim. Where was I on September 26, 2009, when people sat on their rooftops praying for rescue as the water crept toward them and the rain fell in sheets? At home, drinking Patron with my family and a couple of friends who couldn’t make it home precisely because of the floods. I didn’t know until the next day how bad it all had been. I count myself as utterly blessed because I can never understand what those who suffered went through, and I will not preach to those who are probably to blame.

2. I played only a small part in the relief efforts. Oh yes, I volunteered, gave my time, bought some goods, stood in line at Shopwise for 40 minutes two days in a row to get a set of canned goods and noodles to the donation areas. I went to RFM Gym in Pioneer to help with the assembly line for a couple of hours. And I felt that spirit of camaraderie (is this starting to read like a school paper? Bear with me please) permeate through all those who were there to help. But that’s all I can say about it–I was/am pleased, and proud, to have been a part of that. And that’s all.

So I don’t know if I sound humble or indifferent. Because I really did and do care, it’s just that of all people I feel I have the least right to speak of this particular calamity with any authority.

I’m justifying it to myself, I know.

But consider this my lowly tribute to the dead, and the lost, and the great.

There. I said it. I love coffee, and I’m not ashamed of it.

Now if only it was as easy to make such an admission about people. Or, as easy to admit not just to love, but to obsession. To weakness. To humanity.

Last night I spent some time with my mother, and by nine o’clock I’d had a couple of glasses of vodka-7, and she a couple of beers, and we were both talking rather loosely. I was telling her about a friend of mine who can’t seem to get over a guy who cheated on her numerous times, had a daughter by one of the girls he had had on the side, and has seen two other women since he and my friend broke up a few months ago.

I told my mom I wished my friend would at least try to pick her life up and move on from this guy, but there seemed to be no effort on her part. She seemed to like being his go-to girl when there was no other company to be had. She was being used, and yet she put up with it. She ignored the advice of all her friends and allowed herself to be in that situation.

Oh, we empowered, modern-day women. We like to think we are so much stronger than we are sometimes.

Then my mother said, “Your friend must be really lonely. Before you say anything, you have to ask yourself: does she have support? On nights when she has no one to turn to, are you, her friends, there to keep her company? Or are you busy with your own lives, your own loves, and not willing to be there for her? Or if you are all right with having her around, imagine how it feels to always be the third wheel when you are alone, and in love, and vulnerable.

“If you can honestly say that whenever she has a moment of weakness, there is someone there to make her forget her pain, and still she allows herself to be used the way she is, then that is her fault. But otherwise, you can’t say anything, because you don’t know what you would do in her place.”

She went on to say that if during those moments of weakness, that guy calls my friend, could anyone blame her for allowing him back?

Mother does know best, at least sometimes.

And it’s really like my coffee vending-machine. It’s broken, but until there’s something better out there, until there is something else I can rely on to get my morning start, then I’ll keep going back, and back, and back.

1. Catch up with Gossip Girl, True Blood, Big Bang Theory and How I Met Your Mother — yes, lots of TV time in store for me. If I have any to spare, maybe I’ll have that Star Wars marathon I’ve been meaning to get on.

2. Read a not-required, purely-for-leisure, un-philosophical book — any suggestions? No Foucault, please.

3. Drink myself silly at least twice a week, and ingest some kind of alcoholic beverage at least three times a week. A very fair estimate, in my opinion.

4. Spend time online. Stare at a computer screen ’til late at night or ’til my eyes fall out. Whichever comes first.

5. SLEEP. Oh God, sleep.

6. Have safe, protected, AWESOME sex. There, I said it.

7. Not spend time making lists in a public computer lab in school. *Pathetic*

The first non-BS thing that comes to mind right now for me is, ironically, school. As in, school is about to end and I can’t friggin’ wait. As in, six months is eternity in this hell-hole of endless requirements I can’t make myself care about nor ignore. It’s like in Plants vs. Zombies, I’m just helpless ole metal-can trying to get to the delicious brains at the end of the column, but someone’s put a whole line of Garlic in front of me. And so I move from one column of plants to the next, unable to move forward, trying to eat and smelling the stinky Garlic.

Okay, that was kind of a weird metaphor. Told you I was rusty.

Oh, but in other news, I know I’m a little late coming into this, but I’m totally in love with Death Cab for Cutie. I recently got a hold of copies of Plans, Narrow Stairs, and The Open Door EP. I have been listening to all three almost nonstop for almost two weeks: the CDs are just on rotate in my car, it’s awesome. I wake up in the morning with “Grapevine Fires” in my head, I hum the chorus to “My Mirror Speaks” when I take a crap, and when I go to bed, “Cath” just pops up in my dreams. I’m serious.

What makes me kind of sad about my newfound love is that when New Moon (the sequel to Twilight, you know what I’m talking about, admit it!) comes out with DCFC’s “Meet Me on the Equinox” as its carrier track, well. I think the whole notion speaks for itself. I suppose this is a disclaimer: I did not jump the bandwagon, I liked them before the TwiHordes did.

So, hey, blogging is pretty fun.