TWENTY-SEVEN

27

This day last year, I turned 27. And I was wondering if it was going to be the last year of my life. Something that might be just a mere coincidence is the fact that a number of people are fetched by death at this particular age. There was Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, among others. Not when they're in 24, 26, or 28, but 27. It is equaled by the number of people who were fetched by death with what could possibly the jinx of the song "My Way". I was half paranoid like I always was. When I went to a Manila last October, I thought I was going to die when I took the plane back and forth (I usually take the boat to and from Manila), I even remember, that whenever I'd say goodbye before boarding the plane, I'd think to myself "This might be the last time we'll be talking to each other". If only I wore enough black shirts, skull rings, and multiple piercings, I could qualify as a true-blue goth. Fortunately, the smooth ride of the plane I rode made me shake off my sort-of-phobia for plane rides.

An airplane crash was far more scary than the other incident that happened in Manila, which was actually a bit laughable. I was threatened by somebody with a knife. And to think he was Ilonggo. It's a long story. Something that has got to do with my past as an editor of this local underground rock magazine. This guy was a member of a band who got offended by an article on the rock zine, who still carried that grudge, up till now. That was like 4 years ago. Whatever happened to "Time heals all wounds"? He even wrote a poem that expresses how his "hate" still couldn't make him sleep. I don't blame him. We all are just too human to be free from childish emotions. But this guy surpassed the qualification from childish to sheer immaturity that he took a knife and delivered a fiery rhetorical a la Katipunero. I was already late for my ten o'clock appointment, I even stopped my female friend who was going to call the police because I didn't have time to book a complaint on some Metro Manila Police Station. But I didn't want a large knife injury, neither did I want to jeopardize the chance of watching Lord of the Rings 3, Star Wars Episode 3, and The Exorcist Prequel just by risking my life to fight a blade-totting manchild. I amazed myself at observing sanity before one who is obviously losing his mind, by calming him down with the kind of lingo that hostage negotiators do. Minutes later, he calmed down with the kind of atmosphere only Gospel comics could match. As I walked out, my mind was confused when I realized that popular culture demands for one to have "striked back" at the face of threat. Should I have just picked up that metal chair beside me and used it to match his knife, delivering a far more disabling blow? Would that have solved the conflict? Well, popular belief is mostly false anyway. Democracy is proof that idiocy can triumph over common sense.

Realistically, though, we cannot escape idiocy as a characteristic shared by all. I admit that I am a suki of idiocy. Idiocy and Immaturity. When can we truly admit that we are mature enough? Do we wait for white hair and features like Gandalf to finally conclude that we already have come to a state of full maturity and guru-like wisdom? We see immaturity around us. Divorce, Separation, Abortion, Adultery, Corruption, Deceit, Hate, War, Showbiz Politicians. We are all these. If we are merely machines that just conform to certain laws of man, or laws of nature, then fine, we can look forward to a whole lot more millennia to come for the Earth and humankind to exist. But we are immature enough to be careless. Why? Because of our emotions. Is immaturity the equal of emotions?

In my 27 years on this lonely planet, I have come to realize that where I am and what I am is the result of the choices that I have made, and the choices that have been presented upon me. Do you sometimes think of these things too? I am horribly single, slightly overweight, and very unsatisfied of my dayjob (I love my sideline though! Hi Boss!). This is the result of factors like bad curricular choices, laziness, pride, too much television, and just childish loathing. All of which are emotions that have sparked up an effect, which is currently the state where I am sitting on right now. I cannot blame God. I cannot blame "Life". I cannot even blame "Destiny". Nor can I not blame Kurt Cobain for becoming my college-days inspiration (which has caused me to have a bad back posture because I was regularly mimicking the way he walked). Whatever we do in Life, it is we ourselves who take all the credit for. All of those people who died at 27, I don't know their whats and whys surrounding their deaths, but I am assuming that they were stuck in the middle of crossroads of immaturity, responsibility, and perhaps sanity. Maybe they weren't ready to face the next chapter in life. Maybe they were too reckless to enjoy youth and immaturity. Maybe they lived life to the fullest. Too full, they drowned on it. Me, I don't know where I am. At least I survived 27. I extinguished my little superstition. People make their "resolutions" during the New Year's celebration. I make my resolutions on my birthday, which kind of makes sense because it is a new year for me. We are all constantly trying to grow and outgrow our immaturities. I guess it is only proper that all resolutions should revolve around that idea.

I was having a very bad December. Yet, when I got home this morning at 4 am from a pointless night-out with friends, I was enlightened by a thought, picked up my celfone, and "texted" the words in my mind to a friend. Perhaps it was a thought that I have subconsciously developed as I was insipidly watching the crowds of beautiful people dancing to the electronica music at the club. It wasn't so much of a satisfying thought. But at least, it gave my soul a little smile. "Maybe fate sometimes wills it for us to suffer in darkness so that we can have time to understand life, and not get spoiled by being pampered by luck and satisfaction"

(tripxyde@yahoo.com)