happy family

My family is weird but whose isn’t?

To keep this short and sweet, I would refrain from telling you the reasons why mi familia is composed of a bunch of characters. Nonetheless, I am proud of the fact that we’re such happy people. We get upset over problems but we always find cues to insert a punchline or two, much to the disappointment (or disgust) of more normal people.

See, my niece was hospitalized on Friday night. Word got out and her dad, out of haste, told us it was dengue. It wasn’t, and the joke boiled down to it was just semi-dengue (a.k.a. I thought it was dengue because of the symptoms but it was not, though we cannot deny the similarity so let’s just call it such). Well, dengue or not, it’s still an illness, and catheters, IV drips and potassium thingies got involved. While at the hospital, we all got a good laugh over it, and over other high and low points in our lives. We laugh at everything. All conversations end with a punch line.

This, in view of the reality that things are not easy financially. Oh well, they say, in the final analysis, poor people are actually happier.

Maybe it was something my father taught us, indirectly. He would always be jolly about anything. He loved conflict and provocation (and he always wins because he’s, like, the oldest of all) but after all that’s said and done he never liked melancholy and feeling sh*tty about yourself. After his funeral, the whole family ate merrily and watched Ice Age 2. Some even said we didn’t look like we lost a father. Even during the wake, we would drink and play cards and sing and make fool of ourselves (partly because we need to be awake all night). In short, it’s perhaps inherent. 

Anyway, that’s more from my father’s side. As much as I love my maternal relatives, I’ve not been with them for long to imbibe whatever level of oddity they may have.

Momma and I met with a few of them this afternoon and needless to say, while they were gritting teeth at this ass of an in-law, I spent time with my second cousins drinking at 1 p.m. My mother can only look at me with worry. But I’m strong, and it wasn’t that much to merit throwing up or passing out. It was a harmless alcohol session with family. 😉 At least, I got to know them more. I told them we could bump into each other somewhere and wouldn’t realize we’re related, so the cheers and toasts were totally justified, never mind if it’s just a little after lunch.

So, that’s less than 72 hours of taking in alcohol again and like anything new that I enjoyed, I think of it often now. I’m on my way to being a closet alcoholic. I guess I’m entitled to screw up once in a while because I’m so perfect in other people’s eyes, I want to gouge their eyes out with a chopstick so they could give me a break.

Let us see if I can make it a week without it. I am definite I’m going to have it again on Friday so until then, maybe I’ll try to be your model quarterlifer again.

You know why I appear to be proud of this, enough to blog about it? It gave me an outlet. If someone told me before that this would help me release pent up sentiments, I should have done it as early as college. Maybe I’ve gotten in touch with my inner chakra much earlier that I avoided doing a Sybil.

No need to be scared, I’m pretty nice as a person. Maybe that’s one of the few real things that people can expect from me. I am a treasure. I am for keeps. 😉

P.S. Takano, if I didn’t know you that much (I’m assuming that I do), I would think that you’re mimicking me.  Straighten your ways and go hunt for more bookmarks. As a diversion, you could, you know, work. Impress the Japanese with your telecommuting skills.

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