Makin' My Way Downtown
Hi, my name's Zaf. What's up? My memory only lasts 10 seconds. I love bacon and eggs. Oh, did I mention my name's Zaf? What's up? My memory only lasts 10 seconds. I love bacon and eggs.
Last Friday, I was on my way to the office when I heard the news about the preparation they were making for the Black Nazarene procession the next day. Today, I bought the newspaper and saw that two people died—one due to cardiac arrest, and the other one was due to severe head injuries when he fell from the pedestal where that statue was held in place.
I remember what the news anchor said last Friday: “Napakarami ng deboto ng Nazareno. Kung anong meron ang estatwang ito, na gawa lamang naman sa kahoy, ay hindi ko alam.”
The truth of the matter is, Filipinos see something holy out of objects. Filipinos are fond of associating inanimate things with the unseen anima. We are the only Roman Catholics in the whole world who make the sign of the cross whenever we pass by a Church. Whether this may be part of the habit we acquired from our animistic forefathers, no one can tell.
Religion is an inner drive, a cause that neither reason nor logic could explain. After all, faith is belief without proof.
But don’t get me wrong. I don’t follow the rituals. I don’t go to Mass, and I rarely confess. I go direct to Him. There is something about the Roman Catholic institution that makes me feel as if religion is synonymous to a scientific method. It’s pretty rigid and routinized, and I don’t like it. I know when to stand up during Mass, when to sit down, when to kneel, when to say your peace offerings; And honestly, there were times before wherein I just followed what others were doing, not really listening to what the priest was saying.
When I decided to go direct to Him, I found myself happier. Goes to show that I don’t really need a “vehicle” for Him to listen to me, or vice versa.
I try to be a Christian in my own little ways, and I think that suits Him, me, and my brethren more.
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Mom’s gonna be arriving two days from now. Damn. The house is still unorganized, and I don’t have the energy anymore to clean the rest of the mess I made for the past year.
Mom, please don’t kill me when you enter the door. I promise to clean the house thoroughly when you arrive.
And yes, I’ve never been this excited. Finally, mom is going to meet her. What restaurant is appropriate for the event? Hmm. For it not to be awkward, I think there should be a live band or a stand up comedian, or whatever.
But mom doesn’t like noisy places. Fuckit, this is driving me nuts.
