Bipolar

The past week is by far the most exhausting week for me and most of my friends, emotionally. It seemed like being bipolar is the new in. Unexpected demise here and there. But thinking about it, is there such a thing as expected demise when we cannot really tell exactly when death would strike? The only thing plausible thing is to may have guessed. But still, we can never really tell.

We are just on the second week of the month and I have already been into three different wakes; fathers of two of my good friends and a school mate - the latter left me still shocked because I (most of us, actually) did not even know that he was sick until last Sunday when my sister told me that this person's oxygen tank-dependent and that he's basically been giving his last will to every people that's visiting him. From the moment that I knew about his situation I kind of had this feeling that it could happen. I just did not expect it to be that soon. We can never be ready.

We visited him last night (came home to Bulacan for the night that I nearly died on my way - a train ride drains all the sheesh out of the body) and like any other deceased person that I know, he looked like just a sleeping child. It is more than just the wardrobe and the makeup but they really appear to be in peace. I have witnessed how my aunt's physical feature has deteriorated, how weak and jaded she's become since she got sick of the big C and when she passed away last year, it is just so astounding seeing her as if half-smiling to us in all her youthful beauty and I am not even exaggerating. She looked calm and peaceful, evidently happy to be home and I am not just referring to the physical home, but eternal home with our Father. Eternal freedom. Free from all the Earthly suffering, health struggle and judgmental people. To start anew. A fulfillment of a promise. A homecoming.

Coincidentally, I just got finished reading this John Green book called Looking for Alaska and it is just as heartbreaking as the series of events this week. Yes, it may not made me bawl like what The Fault in our Stars did but it has made me learn something; feel something. It made me ached with the idea of losing someone haphazardly and questioning of the what's, why now, how's. Of why we should let things be as it is; of halting to assume and to overthink; of being forgotten and forgiven as we die.

Alaska Young may not be an inspiring icon for she's flawed and made a lot of impulsive acts in her short-lived existence, but she is something. She's made a mark in her own little way. 

The labyrinth thing is brilliant and I must commend John for being so nerdy (in a good way) and random and brilliant. The most rad thing about John is that in his every story, he shares a bit of his own self which for me, help makes the story seemed real; because parts of the characters have, in one way or another, really existed.

As a break from all the John Green novels feels (despite having started Will Grayson, Will Grayson yesterday) I am on to this aphorism book by Nassim Nicholas Taleb called The Bed of Procrustes and it is a breathe of fresh air. Insightful and interesting so far.

"Live your life to the fullest." "Life is short." I almost hear someone say whenever facing such death occurrences. Don't be afraid to seek your own happiness and live your life the way you only can. Travel and stay hungry and foolish with friends. I say read as much books as we can, whenever we can. What? Happiness is subjective, yes?

Today is January 10th and is curiously the Alaska Young Memorial Day in the States.

Double cool with knobs.