And so I slept. But then I woke up.

And this is strange, coming off on a drug-induced sleep, me being under the weather for two days now, sneezing frantically and a while ago, a huge headache and that feeling of cold remedies have no long lasting effect.

But I did go to work, albeit I was rather disconcerted at one time, and one more thing, I was so disappointed with how the other department treated our hand-drawn part in the documentary “Mula Buwis Hanggang PDAF”. Infuriating, really, because they should have requested a dark or black background for the illustrations. It ended up with the motion graphics with the colors inverted, you know, where white is turned to black and vice versa, but no, they had to use tint, and they all looked burnt.

And while I should be sleeping, but is wide awake at 2:22am in the morning, and my nose just keeps on free-flowing, and while Jackson snores up in his room, Gerard probably has to keep the tv on to buffer the noise, ha ha ha! I am down here, just finished a bowl of hot noodles, followed by the last cold med I had to take, and wide awake.

An old illustration updated

So I ended right here, polishing an old design for a friend. I knew I have reasons keeping some of the stuff I drew earlier. This one was modified, added a male silhouette, and at the new owner’s behest, take away the nipples, of which, now that I look at it, makes the logo more respectable. Originally I had this down for a tattoo, but now Mike Carlo Caparas will own this one, for keeps, for his new venture, I think.

Logo Study for FANM

Needs more work though. There are a couple of versions I have done and will be finishing these, as soon as I feel better.

I enjoy this.

It’s the kind of thing that keeps me on my toes.

I know I have a style some people may or may not like but it is my style. My creation. Some people used to ask me to do this and that and not bothering to supply the materials needed, so I created based on what I like the project to look and feel. It was pro bono and they had the gall to say

“WTF is this?”

and all I can say is

A thank you would have been sufficient.

It would have been a different conversation if they had given me something to work on, not just links to videos, or a [gasp] THE peg, whatever that means. It’s tiresome, when you do stuff for people for free. They seem to get the idea that artist create for the sake of creation.

Well, we do.

And we need to earn a living , too.

So I’m better off contributing my artwork for other artists. At least we share a common goal.

Unlike some people I know who are glorified keyboard warriors and button pushers, give them a title and they flaunt it like it’s a great skill to load something up and push play, huh.  Give them something creative to do and they just stand there in bewilderment, thinking “not in my job description”, as if a bigger salary is an excuse for lazyness.

And oh boy, some people at work could use a little sense hammered to their skulls. If things continue with the way they are, people will be leaving. I, myself feel If there is another gig I could do and earn from, and be away from people who think too highly of themselves, I’d get on that train and never look back.

I’m sick, because I am tired.

I am tired because I did some double shifts just to rush up some stuff for the documentary.

I’m sick and tired because, some people have no reason to be arrogant about stuff they think they know.

I’m tired of being sick, because I feel old with a cold.

Well, Why Not?

I poured myself a tall one. As the documentary buffers on YouTube, I settle and just decided to change the name of my blog. Between puffs of smoke and an occasional sip from my own concoction of lemon ice tea and brandy (don’t ask, it’s the only mix I know that doesn’t leave me shitfaced drunk) and looked at my blog wondering if I should delete it altogether or continue an intermittent flow of posts.

What’s the point?

Turns out, it is the whole point in all of this: the questions, the doubts, tribulations, frustrations, occasional bragging rights and stuff. it is entirely the point – take everything with a grain of salt. But not to accept readily.

And besides, this is the only time I could carry a conversation long enough to find a conclusion. It’s why it reads”

“This is me talking to myself.”

Because I haven’t been this way with myself for a long time. I know I am a real introvert since I was a kid. Yes, I grew up in a small town where virtually everyone knows everybody. But I know I am always an outsider. I don’t just feel it. I embraced it. Even now that I am fast approaching my 45th year on this Earth, somehow I crave that idea of being left alone, whenever possible. To do things my own way.

Of course, it’s not entirely possible to just think of myself, but I do, now, consider myself and my family, the ME I should be thinking about. And I could still be loyal to my friends, my co-workers, my superiors, and still maintain that aloofness that has been set aside for sometime.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I enjoy my new habitation with Jackson and Gerard, and the apartment just feels like home now. Being the oldest guy is also a good thing, they usually leave me alone. Good, sensible people, these two housemates of mine.

So, I’m back into being myself.

Again.

My komiks seem to be going quite well. And I hope this writing and illustrating will be a means to an end. I have the symptoms of having serious issues with city living.

The Mourning After

I broke down a while ago.

It came like a runaway truck , with a full load of bricks, going downhill, and I was just crossing the street, oblivious, uncaring, and hit me. I cried like a five-year-old kid who just lost his mom.

It’s sudden. It was inevitable. It was so many things at once. It was everything and nothing and it grabbed me by the throat and squeezed the breath out of my shaking body, while I writhed in pain that nobody could have felt the way I did. I was so deep in it for a while, the tears on my cheeks felt like boiling water,  and I sat here in my room, bawling like a child.

Which is what I am now, a 43-year-old boy whose mother passed away, several months past.

The memory of receiving the news was murky and ghostly, I may have pushed the knowing far back in my mind. So far back it took a small area there with  the regrets, and all the things I wish I have never done, but are neatly folded and kept in a bag. gathering dust and moss, being eaten away by bugs and rats of my consciousness.

I was in denial. I was angry. I was infuriated because of the fact that no one in my family took the time to tell me. I found out my Ina passed away  last February 23. She died on the 20th. I was saddened but I didn’t cry then, and I thought I will not cry.

Until now.

I mourn her passing. I grieve for the loss. I miss my Ina, my mother.

All the thank yous, the petty blames, the apologies now have no place to go. She is gone, and there’s no one to hear me say ” I love you, Ina.”  My heart sank. Still sinking. Still bleeding from the loss. I guess I never really mourned her.

I mourn her now.

I always told friends to treat their loss as a celebration of their passing, to remember the life and not the death. I’m choking on my burned hypocrisy now, swallowing hard and chasing it down with bitter ink.

Rizalinda Robale Paelmo

Goodbye, Ina.

And this is what triggered the sobbing and weeping. A song I have always liked, but never really felt the impact until a while ago. felt like it was written just for me, for this moment of realization.

“I found the tears since you’ve been gone
And I stand in fear, can I make it on my own
Without your love to guide me thru my life
It’s so cold at night without you here
And those gentle arms that held me close and dear
Oh we’re all the same, we all live and die
You’ll always be in my heart, oh Mama don’t you cry
You’ll always live in my dreams, oh Mama don’t you cry
Every night when I close my eyes
I see a light and shadows of your face
It’s always there like an angel over me
So many frozen years hangin’ on my wall
A thousand words, I can hear them call
Oh I tried so hard but I could never say goodbye
Find more similar lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.com/LHNi
You’ll always be in my heart, oh Mama don’t you cry
You’ll always live in my dreams, oh Mama don’t you cry
No one can kiss away the pain like you
No one like Mama, no one like you”

“You’ll always be in my heart, oh Mama don’t you cry
You’ll always live in my dreams, oh Mama don’t you cry
(You’ll always be in my heart, oh Mama
don’t you cry – don’t you cry)
(You’ll always live in my dreams) in my
dreams (Oh Mama don’t you cry)
Oh Mama don’t you cry”

[ Mama, Don’t You Cry – Steelheart ]