Christmas Celebration

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I’m still not a fan of Christmas as a holiday, but I am all for what it should be representing.

I was raised Catholic, so it initially makes me think of the birth of Jesus. When I grew older, it soon became a time of getting gifts. Time passed by and I got to that awkward age — too old to give gifts to, too young to have the money for giving gifts — so it became that time when I’ll either be happy to get cash or feel envious for not getting a new shirt or some article of clothing. Finally, when I got a job, I felt like it’s a time to prepare bountiful feasts for my family while giving gifts to selected people. Looking at how my perception of Christmas has changed over the year makes me feel a bit sad; it looks like a tale of how I lost my innocence.

After enduring this year full of problems , mainly my mom getting sick all the time, I now see Christmas as a time to really treasure my family. My mom, of course, for taking care of our family until now; my dad for not leaving my mother’s side; my aunt, who’s like our second mom, for assuming the care of our house; my sister for treating me to small joys throughout the year like popcorn, ice cream, and milk tea drinks; it also includes a copy of Jewel’s poetry book, which is in the picture above. I couldn’t have gone through this year without my family, and that’s what I’m celebrating Christmas for.

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Quail Eggshells in Blue Bowl

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Quail Eggshells in Blue Bowl

So many people worried about Humpty Dumpty — even the horses who wouldn’t usually care about eggs — but maybe, they misunderstood him. He might have known what most chefs know: eggs can make more magic when they’re cracked and broken in a bowl, even quail eggs.

Thinking about Suicide

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I think that despair should be dealt with optimism; isolation with companionship; a cry for help with a resounding ā€œIā€™m listening.ā€

Yesterday morning, while watching Masterchef Philippines, I heard a tragic news bulletin. A woman jumped to her death from a tall building. According to the field correspondent, the building administrators tried to stop her, but they were unable to. When she hit the pavement below, her body literally fell apart, her head, disintegrated, rendering her unidentifiable. All I could do while listening to the news was to cover my mouth and shake my head in disbelief.

My mom was the first to react. She said, “So many people are dying, trying desperately to buy more time through drugs and doctors. This woman just threw hers away just like that.”

I knew that there was bitterness in her remark. She knows that her time with me and my family was drastically shortened because of diabetes and its accompanying complications. I can just imagine how she feels about it; to her, it’s really unfair.

On the other hand, I was trained to consider other people’s perspective. Coming from a psychology background, I can bet that the woman in the news thought that it’s her only way out of whatever hounded her to jump. A lost love? Family dishonor? Seemingly endless debt? Despair over a diagnosis that might have been equal to a death sentence? I can just imagine the possibilities. While I understand how a person can arrive there — at the edge of a ledge — I can’t condone suicide.

While it’s such a big responsibility, I wish that I could have been there to try to talk her out of it. I wish that I or someone, anyone, stopped her with a smile, a friendly hello, and a sincere question: why? I know that it’s simplistic — almost not a try at all — but I think that despair should be dealt with optimism; isolation with companionship; a cry for help with a resounding “I’m listening.” I don’t know if it’ll work, but it sure beats panic and worry, negative emotions that might have been the very things that she wanted to jump away from.

But it’s too late. She already jumped.

The next best thing that we could do to keep things like that from happening is to help each other be happy.