Drakulita

MANILA, Philippines—A riot—what else could it be? The year 2009 was such a terrible year that I cannot find a better word to describe it.

For me, the year started with a terrible break-up. Not that I wasn’t aware it was going to happen sooner or later, but a break-up is never easy any which way you view it, and although I had already seen my two-year old relationship’s demise, I wasn’t prepared for how nasty it got. Also going down the drain with the relationship were some friendships, both good and bad. Some I sorrowfully regret losing, some I couldn’t care about.

My career wasn’t going anywhere either. It was a like a buzz, a long, disturbing hum that did not want to develop into a beautiful and promising tune like I thought it was going to be. The work place had become a hell hole from which I couldn’t easily get out of, especially with money involved. I had been living independently for over a year, and giving up a job just because I hated it meant giving up my independence, something I found hard to give up. Being in my early twenties and having been sheltered for the most part of my life, living the Makati city lifestyle was something I worked hard for and something I wouldn’t surrender now that I had come to relish it.

Looking at both sides of the coin, it was a first-quarter storm I patiently and thankfully withstood despite the nightly migraines, the ugly rumors, the bitter emotions and the hard facts. It was a nightmare, and what made it worse was that everything that was happening to me was real.

Eventually, the world caught on with my despair—in a far more dramatic fashion, as you would expect from Hollywood. Celebrity deaths became seemingly a fad, and quick to follow in its footsteps were swarms of paparazzi making sure the deaths were entangled in webs of truths and lies. Topping the list would be the early and unexpected death of the world’s No. 1 pop icon, Michael Jackson. » Read the rest of this entry «

“The man I failed to help.” That was how Lisa Marie Presley described her ex-husband Michael Jackson in a recent blog post on his shocking death.

Among the millions of stories that made the rounds in the Web recalling moments shared with the King of Pop while he was still alive, it was this particular entry written by Presley that moved me to tears. Not simply because I was awed by it, but more so because her words touched my heart in an intimate manner. And her pain seemed somehow very familiar.

Presley, in her Myspace blog entry entitled “He Knew,” described how hard it was for her to make the decision to give up on MJ back then. Instead of continuing to reach out and help him overcome certain issues, Presley chose to live her own life separately, not only for her own good but also for the good of their children. She worked hard to remain indifferent towards MJ since the time they parted ways, but with his recent passing, all the pain came back to her again as she grieved for her ex-husband. His death served as a stark reminder of how, once in her life, she had failed to help a great man.

It wasn’t so long ago when I myself gave up on a brilliant yet self-destructive man. He may not be as big as MJ, but back then he meant the world to me, and my life exclusively revolved around him. He was my version of the man I failed to help. And although it has been some time since we parted ways, reading Presley’s memory of MJ brought him back to my thoughts once again.

» Read the rest of this entry «