Random Tales From Youth #4

I think it would be safe to say that we’ve experienced, at on time or another, a situation that was well beyond its proper place in our lives to happen. Like when your grandfather lets you have a sip of beer at the age of six, or- being a virgin- letting your uncle pay a rather fine looking Japanese stripper dry hump you until you feel that that moment was something more special than anything else, and you end up calling it being in love. I don’t remember exactly when my attraction to the opposite sex became sturdier than solid rock, but I know it came earlier than it was expected or supposedly should have occurred. If I was to sketch that certain period it would be my best guess to say that it dawned upon me between my first and second year at grade school. I used to get, at the very least, eight hours of sleep so I always had ample time to dream away. It was one of those dreams that played out in succession, meaning that it had different episodes that did not necessarily connect with one another. I can’t remember what came before or possibly after, but all I can recall vividly is this one part which haunted me until my waking day, and all the way until today. For some strange reason, as most of our dreams go, I found myself being a spectator. I don’t know where I was, but all the people were wearing tall white furred hats and blue soldier jackets with yellow outlining adorned with the same white fur along the edges. They were mounted on white horses on a brown, and dignified, saddle. Some of them had swords, but any further details would have already likely escaped me since this is, as I speak, more than a decade old dream. They were all men except for one; for some reason the one girl that stood out, despite the fact that she was some ruler of some sort as the rest of the soldiers mentioned, shared the same features as the girl that was in my soccer team, who I grew fond of looking at throughout the weekends. She was in a predicament during my dream sequence. Of course, strangling logic, in my dream I darted to ask for her hand in marriage. She said yes immediately, seeing that it was my dream, but only after a certain task be done. She told me she couldn’t be free until a pebble was laid in the center of a three inch deep well, a well without water. One of her soldiers had to place that pebble that looked more like a skipping stone right in the center while riding a horse that ran as fast as it could. She only agreed to wed me only if she was free. The scenes played out in the best cinematography my young mind could handle. The camera panned in and zoomed out, until it came to one shot which focused on the three inch well while one of the soldier’s horse was steadily pacing itself towards the camera. I know I stole that shot from some animated movie I’ve seen, but I still can’t remember which one. But with that scene, which has left imprints in me until today, the pebble was finally set and freedom for my future wife was bestowed. All were elated with such celebrations, however the catch was more than I could handle. She, my future wife, shriveled into an old and helpless woman instantaneously. I felt I dug myself into a rather large ditch. I couldn’t say no to marry her then, since I was the one who asked in the first place. I was speechless and practically dumbfounded. Luckily I woke up just in time. Though the strange thing is, the first words that came from my head when I was already wide awake were “I need a girl to meet”. I wasn’t that proficient with English during that time, so I guess what I meant was “Shiet, I want sum of dem ladies to kick it wid, ya kno wut I’m sayin?”. No matter how that dream left an impression, it was so out of place. Call it way ahead of its time. Then again, I had my first erection long before I knew what to do with it.

Random Tales From Youth #3

Most of the time, I didn’t have a clue as to what I was doing. Whatever it was that I thought I knew, I only did it half-knowingly. I knew I hated competing, or having to be competitive. When I would play soccer, I had more fun playing skirmishes in practices than actual games, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t have fun at games altogether. I just wouldn’t play as hard if it didn’t feel like it was fun, and I had a hell of a time in some games. I didn’t care either if I never scored a goal in a single game; coach said I was more of a defense kind of person. But still, I wouldn’t have minded if I scored at least one. So how come, on some occasions, I would feel challenged, even angry, when someone else gets praised for being good? During games, when my teammate would score a goal I’d be as happy as he was, but during practice if he was having a good skirmish I fought for that ball like an animal. How come I wanted practice to always go my way? I simply didn’t know why, all I knew is that it was all part of the fun factor. You can say I was a pretty stupid kid back then. I knew that I never wanted for myself to be someone great or greater than someone, because frankly I didn’t know what it meant just like I didn’t know that the word envy existed (yet). All I knew was that play was fun and so was praise. But praise was just a part of it that just came my way, I wasn’t going to go and look for it! I had praise on tap back then. All I needed to do was daydream.

Random Tales From Youth #2

Praying to God was something I did every night. I would pray about lots of things, mostly asking though. Maybe I was just an arrogant kid who didn’t know how to say “sorry”. First I would pray for my Tita Annie to get better, she had breast cancer, then I would ask if God could give me the skills or to let me finish King of Fighters 94 without continuing once, and to top it all off I’d ask the favor of blessing everyone in the entire world, just to save time because it would be too long for me to name those people that I knew, and I didn’t want to leave anyone behind. And so “Yes”, I told God, even Saddam Hussein should be blessed.

Random Tales From Youth #1

I remember once that all I needed was to go back to the forest and take the woodcutters axe so that I can cut down some trees and fix the bridge. I had to pretend sick that day so that I would be able to go home. School that day was as boring as it could be, and I just couldn’t fix the feeling out of me that I finally knew the answer to my troubles. So I chopped down some wood from some unfortunate, and pixilated, tree and took it all the way to the river and then to the threshold of the broken bridge. But just before the bridge was fixed, my dad was already standing behind me, at the doorway to my room. I wasn’t allowed to play videogames on weekdays then, and I was supposed to be “sick” after all. “Turn it off” he said. I did what I was told, but only after I saved my game. He took the whole console away, and told me that I was grounded “indefinitely”. I can’t remember what I felt then. But I could remember how frustrated I was when I couldn’t get pass the bridge before, same as how delighted I was when someone told me how to fix the bridge. It took them six weeks to make repairs, and also before I could cross it and go to the largest city called “Meribia”. I think it was the first day of Thanksgiving weekend that I got it back. I woke up and there it was, the Sega CD, on the futon couch, with a note from my dad that I happened to have lost.