No Longer Human -Osamu Dazai

Osamu Dazai was intorduced to me as a sort of suicidal man that women can’t seem to get enough of. The depition I have of him comes from the anime Bungou Stray dogs. where in he is a androgynous sherlock holmes character with a superpower. But when I googled who he is, the real story perplexed me even more.

The story of a man who seems to be blessed with all the gifts that other people wish for, Money, Talent, Intelligence and Charm but unable to enjoy any of it makes for a story that makes for a relatable reading to anybody who at some point or other, has gone through depression. Which is everybody, in a way.

Dazai’s Yozo fills me with a small anger at the callousness by which he loves. At the same time as he views himself as below the women he ruins, there is no limit to the hurt he puts them through. In his wake, he leaves a mountain of debt and in some instance, he dies. It’s a fascinating experience to both wish for this man’s reckoning but also to feel disappointment by the coming of his end. 

There is this ceratin bit that Yozo repeats where he “plays the clown” as in, he tries to be humorous. And the further you go into the book, the less he mentions it. Indicating that he gets tried of playing the clown. Ricky Gervais or was it Merchant who says that Comedy is the guy who is doing something impossible but doesn’t know it.  In fact, he says that the moment that the hero becomes aware that it’s impossible, it becomes a tragedy. And it reads as tragedy the whole way through, because the perspective comes wholly from the past. Yozo, an old man of twenty seven, no longer knows that he failed to belong anywhere and writes in a way that communicates how foolish he was in his younger years.

There is the meta thinking as well. That Yozo is still a comic figure, of a guy who blames his nature but is unable to change it. That he doesn’t realize that he’s just like everyone, trying to fit in and not sure if he is. And if this is semi-biographical Dazai might be the same. He’s a comic character. Which is funny because the most poignant part of this novel is the discussion Yozo has with Hiroki about which nouns are tragic and which ones are comic.  

Materialists

Celine Song in an interview finally discusses the discourse about Materialists. Her sophomore directioral venture was met with much anticipation given the start-studded cast and the rave reviews. By all accounts, she was going to be a mainstay in Hollywood. A lot of people watched her movie. She should be happy. And she probably is. Except in this one interview. Because in this interview, she has to explain the movie.

Social Media at large seemed to pan the movie for its ending. Where despite the lead Lucy(Dakota Johnson) finding a man(Pedro Pascal) who literally checks all her (and most people’s) boxes, she chooses to get back with a broke actor/waiter(Chris Evans). As twiter people say: Broke Boy Propaganda. A rejection of the entire thesis of the story.

And Song tells this directly in the interview that it seems capitalism has ruined everyone’s perspective, boiling down a character as great as John(played effortlessly charming by Chris Evans) to his economic status, being broke. The entire theis of the movie is summed by Lucy in her breakup with Harry: “I’m not in love with you and you’re not in love with me. And no amount of money is going to bridge that.” For Song herself, the movie is summed by Sophie L’s : “That’s all we are to you. Merchandise”. A clear expression on the ‘commodification of ourselcves’. And she doesn’t raise her voice but it feels like being scolded by a teacher. When she says ‘It’s not poor people’s fault that they are poor’ it almost feels like you just got lectured by a professor after asking a dumb question.

Another interview with Song has her describing falling in love as being very specific but also vague. She gives the quote “You don’t fall in love with someone because they’re rich or because they have a degree. When you’re asked why do you love someone you say, ‘Oh I love you cause when I was sick once, you took care of me'”

But what is clear is that this is a disconnect between Celine Song’s message and the main audience of this film: Gen Z. I have two theories as to why: One either Gen Z at large doesn’t know what love feels like or they’re too consumed by capitalism to believe marriage is not transactional. And honestly, I don’t know which is scarier.

IF it’s the former, it means social media and tiktok has shown so much performative love that has broken down what Gen Z thinks love looks like. In a world where people get married later and later, but divorce rates are still high, maybe GenZ doesn’t believe in love conquers all. If all the influencers are the only story of love that you see, then conflating love with the inflated lifestyle these influencers have may be the only love GenZ recognizes. If your parents are broke and divorced and the only happy couples you see are rich 20-somethings on holiday in the amalfi coast, living in spacious apartments, while giving each other jewelry, expensive watches and fancy cars. A generation of kids more and more unlikely to ever own a home, significantly likely to be worse off than thegeneration before, feeling that love is this ritual that they have to go broke in order to perform. in terms of the film, Gen Z choose Harry, because he can fulfill their dreams. The expensive restaurant, the trip to Iceland, the million dollar penthouse. That’s a happier love story.

The other interpretation is a bit darker. Gen Z knows that choosing Harry might not be happiness. But the other choice is poverty.  GenZ saw the scene in John’s apartment and decided that love can go get fucked. That there is no happiness that is worth stepping on someone else’s used condom. You can interpret their disdain for broke boys as a playful(or maybe sincere) reference to economic reality of late-stage capitalism. A rejection of the film’s ending where Lucy and John ‘Figure it out’  because it’s unrealistic. That even with the best intentions, being poor makes love impossible. Hence, Lucy has to choose Harry because being with John would have ended in another breakup or even worse, Lucy being in debt as a single mom.

And in the same interview still, Song starts by identifying some of the themes of this discourse. Particularly the feminist undertones of “Get that bag, girl boss”. Lucy is in the middle class. Obviously, she is not Harry’s level but is well-off compared to John. And the girl boss instinct might be to say that she should choose HArry because she wants to be rich and women have been conditioned to feel guilty for being ambitious, so the power move is to go after the lifestyle and not be bothered by the thinking of “gold digger” or be afraid to be called materialistic. But Song says that the true feminist thing to do is choose your happiness because you can make your dreams come true yourself. 

And I think she’s right. from a class point of view the truly powerful thing to do as the middle class(Lucy) is not to ingratiate yourself to the upperclasss(Harry) but to be carry yourself and empower the lowerclasses(John). And in the end, choosing love allow yous to escape the grind..

When Breath becomes Air

Autobiographies are weird because I believe that they are a big exercise in arrogance. Some how though, this story of Paul Kalanithi does not sound of a man boasting of his achievements and lifestyle, instead it Paul comes across as a humble man searching simply for meaning. Possibly, this is who Paul is, but I imagine it was also the cancer putting into focus the things that were foremost in his heart.

This could have been a (I assume, a fairly wealthy) man waxing poetic on his death and a self-glorifying fiction of finding meaning, but Paul writes a cohesive through line that mixes his personal anecdotes and a philosophy that he spent a lifetime honing with years of study and real-word practice in medicine. The description of his schooling, littered with mention of Stanford, Cambridge and other prestigious institutions, medical terms he has to intermediately explain are a reminder that he is accomplished and in some way, meant to be establish his credibility as the man who could bridge Biology and Philosophy. The fascination of his relationship with his self now that a core tenet of his identity(a doctor) has changed to one he is familiar to but drastically different. It is apparent that he is well-read, not only with the references to classic literature, but also the expanse of his vocabulary and the beauty of his prose. The consistent analogies, the perfectly chosen verbs. The rhythm by which he speaks. There is not an errant word that most authors trying to sound smart adds. Lastly, he seems to just love people. His characterizations of his father, Lucy, of his oncologist Emma, of his Daughter Cady, and the particular praise that he heaps on them by highlighting their actions, rather than describe their appearancess. His tone evokes a narrator who is both incredibly well-informed but humble before the enormity of his topic: his death.

Early in the book, the hook of a doctor giving the most informed take on death gives way to the question that Paul sincerely asks in the title. At what point does Breath become Air? If there was anybody in the world who could figure it out, it would be the neurosurgeon-neuroscientist who gets cancer. His breakdown of the frontiers of neuroscience, the regions of the brain and how it branches onto the different aspects of human function how certain parts seem to control our humanity. And he paints the picture of his life and how despite the challenges that came with it. He has found that science carried with it a peculiar certainty. Science made sense in it’s reproducibility and the immutable laws that it follows. I believ Paul’s believed in an observable mechanism by which conciousness could rise. He also seemed to believe in a philosophy that puts science as the pinnacle of understanding. A way mankind understands the universe enough to predict it. However, the conclusion that he arrives at by the end is that science falls short of answering those things. The tomes of neuro-science fall short of the answers, During his emergency hospitalization, he decides that the keplan meian curves no longer mattered and gives up trying to understand the biology of his death. How his experience with patients and their outcomes inform his perspective on his own disease. A comatose patient living ten years hardly seems more alive than the patient who can live fully for 2.

I don’t think there is something I understood more about death reading this book. For all accounts, Paul lived a life well loved. And it was a life that he wanted more of. The line that somehow leaves me speechless is the line that Lucy says ‘If we’re the best at this, it doesn’t get better than this’. If these two wealthy doctors are not ready for death, what does the rest of us mortals have to cling to? Paul gets to live 2 years past his diagnosis, he is still able to finish his residency, write a book, and become a father. Things he had set out to do. And one of these things he would not have done had he not had cancer. Paul admits to marital troubles before his diagnosis, and admits the cancer likely saved his marriage. My point is that I was reading this book thinking maybe Paul stumbled upon a profound discovery by confronting his death. But more than anything I found that what he had was a rather tragic story. Admittedly one with a rather charming protagonist, but nonetheless a tragic hero story of a man s fighting to retain the life he once had, determining whether he can weather the storm of change that is blowing. This story is singularly Paul; Only his blend of medical expertise, deep appreciation for the arts and philosophy, and, sublime humanity could have produced this book. But it also is universal, in that it taps into the human reaction to uncertainty. A major conflict between certainty and the unknown. We all wish we could find what is wrong in our life just so we could move to the next step of solving it. But guess what, finding out is already hard by itself. Now upon reflection, it seems foolish to have hoped that Paul gained insight into consciousness. He’s likely not the first neurosurgeon to die of cancer, but it seems he is the first one with just enough skill to decribe the experience, and not just physically, but in all the times that matters. There is not a fear in this book about himself. No fear about being forgotten. Fear about those left behind, but not for death itself. He finds that with the certainty of death, suddenly his life has new meaning.

My problem with Isekai anime

When Isekai anime started to be popular. It was a twist on the classic story that Neil Gaiman had a particular fancy to: a normal guy who felt a little bit bored of the world, not exactly fitting in, finds themselves in a fantasy world and finds the agency that had always escaped them, allowing them to do the great things even they did not know they were capable of. Today, the genre is a copy-paste of Kirito looking motherfuckers with the power level of Saitama and the personality of a 4-chan mod.

At the beginning, the stories in the isekai anime started with competition for world-building. After all, the genre was popularized by Sword Art Online in anime and Mushoku Tensei for light novels. While they have flaws(very glaring ones) these were actually created with a focus on story. Hero has a goal, goes on an adventure, recruits his team, triumphs over evil, and saves the world. Training arc sometimes, or maybe a battle with a skilled enemy pushes him forward. Progression of the story became a thing. But today, it feels as if, because so many Anime have similar elements, you don’t have to build the story, you can just show something that references the other anime.

Gaming is an undeniable influence in isekai. SAO was initially about gaming. But even other works in isekai are undoubtedly influenced not by the works of tolkien or moorcock or fantasy authors but by the JRPG. The ubiquity of such constructs as levels, ranking systems, tiers, loot, adventurer guilds. All systems prominent in games.

And while some anime choose to move away from the JRPG influence(Goblin Slayer is clearly DnD, Frieren seems to be wholly original), I think the majority embrace it and make the protagonist an overstatted cheat self-insert. You can literally find all the isekai and explain it as a game bug. The MILF isekai is a glitchy NPC interaction, the vending Machine isekai is a Mod Skin. It’s all just Skyrim mods. There’s a whole genre of an otohime anime where someone is dropped into a dating sim.

And I tell you, nothing is worse than watching someone else play a video game. Some people might like streamers, I don’t. I can’t watch a video where I know what should be done and see someone not do it. Brennan Lee Mulligan once said, “Nothing in this world is more annoying, than someone liking the same thing you do, the wrong way.” And watching someone play a game the wrong way infuriates me to no end. I only watch esports of games I don’t play.

That’s my problem with isekai. It’s a video game where you don’t have the controls. You already have cheats on but whoever has the control is piloting it wrong.

Mononoke: Phantom in the Rain & Ashes

This Japanese thriller is so stylistic, it feels like I’m tripping just watching it. When the art style is this busy I feel  suspicious that the direction is shit. But this is not that In fact.

What really breaks this anime is the tone. This anime doesn’t know what the tone is. Especially the first film. Obviously, the female – centric political intrigue is good drama. But at times it has the feel of a thriller and other times it feels like a slasher film.

The elements of the lore regarding the medicine peddler, Mononoke and the sword are so opaque that it feels like walking extrapolation. You just know that it can only be another twist. Makes for a poor thriller.

The strength of the is the series is the setting. That almost all the main players are women stuck in a Limbo of powerlessness and possible influence is a gripping back drop of a passing protagonist trying to do his job.

I don’t know if this even counts as feminist because it wholly does not allow the women to make decisions. Instead, We empathize with them for an hour and instead of seeing them take over the patriarchy We see the way that these women just… give in. All this time, they are given decisions that they fight to put off and at the climax, they make the decision they think best. They give up their friendship. They give up their family. These women don’t end up empowered. They are powerful women shackled by the systems around this One man.

I once learned that in monster movies the theme is whatever happens when there isn’t a monster. In phantom in the rain, the monster appears whenever the ooku threatens to take away someone’s past. The monster appears whenever the past is ripped away from the newbies. It appears when Mugitani is berating Kame, threatening to throw everything she has away. It’s easy to understand what the monster is. It’s not exactly a mystery. What is interesting is the question asked ‘is this monster enough to bring justice’ and in both movies the answer is sadly the same. NO. Not even a little bit. the system just continues as it is.

On love & death

For the past week, I’ve been feeling a Massive headache. the likes of which I had never felt, much less endured for any length of time. And being the dramatic – attention starved middle child I am, the first thing that pops into my head is the thought:”This is it I’m going to die”. Next that comes to mind is my cousin’s death of a brain aneurysm at 21. She was under stress back then, reviewing for the Bar exam. She mentioned a recurring headache, which she attributed to lack of sleep and stress . Then suddenly they found her convulsing in the kitchen. She lasted two more days in the ICU. Doctor’s say that it was likely a congenital defect exacerbated by stress. A vein in the brain was too thin and the stress of repeated late nights and medicine caused a buildup of pressure that caused a rupture. And remembering that, I desperately wanted one.

And in this, I realized. I still would let myself die. Not that I want to kill myself. I just would be fine if I knew I could go to sleep and never wake up.

I thought for sure that I had gotten over that suicidal urge. I no longer thought of jumping in front of the train on the way home from work. But suddenly this headache has got me thinking that if I died cause of it, I would be fine. I am increasingly convinced that rather than great pain, I would feel a certain lightness.

I have been reading Me, Myself and Why, a nonfiction book by Jennifer Oubliette, where she breaks down the science of understanding the self. In one of the chapters she confronts the idea of the self as a response to death. We become aware of who we are when we realize who we are will not be here forever. And she describes in great detail not only the personal story of her best friend dying to AIDS but also many famous stories of people confronting their mortality. There was a youtuber who documented his fight with cancer. His last video was a tearful goodbye that caught him saying that he’s scared, that he doesn’t want to disappear, 8 days before he died. And this sentiment seems to be the same with many people who die. David Bowie wrote an Album released before his death and in it he freely expresses his hurts and regrets. A record of a man who has lived a full life still afraid of being unknown when clearly he will live on in his work.

I think it’s weird that by the time I turned 20, I met three people my age who died. The first was a friend from grade school, who died in an car accident. The next was my cousin. The third was a classmate in college, who died by suicide. At the risk of doxxing his family, I will just say that I felt a strange kinship with Dan, not least of which was because we shared a name.  We both sort of disappeared into the background. One of the first people you forget from your graduating class.

Anyway, what Dan left in a last text message to his mom was “Sorry for being a waste of space.” And while we were never close enough to talk feelings. I think I get it. I get Dan. In the moment of their death, my friend from grade school and my cousin could not have had time to fathom being scared. But Dan looked at death straight in the eye and welcomed it all the same. The last thing he expressed was the regret and the guilt.

And I feel that. There is a non-insignificant part of my mind that believes my existence is a selfish act. That I was given very important gifts and privileges that I squandered by not working hard enough to achieve something truly great. That in the arms of someone else, my life would have been extraordinary.

And my fiancee will say that it’s dying that will be selfish. That it’s hurtful to the Ones left behind.  Her dad died of a complication from diabetes after leaving the family for another woman. There is still a resentment she feels towards him. Especially since he left them nothing but debt. But even more so that she never got to be angry with him for all his wrongs. He went back home when he got too sick and then he was gone. There was just too much left unsaid and now too much that won’t ever be said at all.

I…. I guess……. I don’t know. All I know is that sometimes, I’m on the train platform, the ground’s rumbling, and if I close my eyes, I can hear the train just pass and feel all the wind it’s displacing, the amount of metal going at ungodly speeds, and thinking, “If it’s this fast, I wouldn’t even register it”.

Not everyday. Not even most days. But some days. Some days, even with all the things I have. Even with all the love I have received. I see a train pass and say. ‘It’d be so easy.’

And the headache’s the same. It doesn’t hurt. But it hasn’t gone away. And I’ve done the things they say to do: slept earlier, rested well, drank water, taken ibuprofen. And it’s gone for a bit and then comes back. And again, the same thought comes to me. ‘It’d be so easy’

None of the early mornings where I’m up before the sun. None of the humdrum meetings of common words that no longer make sense next to each other. No 2-hour commute. No packed trains. No bills No wedding stress. No anything.

I just hear the train coming, close my eyes. And jump. It’d be so easy.

The FTC question

This question has been in my head since I listened to the Lemonade Stand Episode where Aiden and Dougdoug debated over whether this is valid. Lina Khan was the head of the FTC and spearheaded a massive expansion on the scope of the agency. The biggest win of the agency has been the IPO of Figma granting them an almost $40 billion evaluation, 2 years after the FTC stopped Figma from being acquired by Adobe for $20 billion.

From the left, this is a win in government regulation. It prevented the consolidation of power and allowed for increased competition in the design software segment. From the right, this is government overreach, a bad precedent that is tantamount to slavery.

The argument of the right is that Figma’s IPO is a rare jewel.  While it would be great if it happened often, it’s the exception and should not be considered the rule. So rarely is it possible to grow your business such that you can IPO. working in a startup is an incredilby risky prospect. It’s less pay than what you could make at a more established employer. This risk is huge, you could be wasting years of your life, taking less pay for more work at what could be the most productive years of your life. So if you get an offer for more money than you could ever dream of, it seems wise to take it. Stopping a sale that is agreed upon by both parties, is forcing the founders and employees to undertake that risk.

And I can tell you, that is some incredible bullshit. These fucking tech “futurists” are crying foul about a possible world where they can’t sell their companies for millions of dollars. Dude, either your vision is a profitable business or it’s an overpriced sham. If it’s the former, why would you sell? You are at the ground floor of what(in your words) could be a disruption, why get out before it gets there? If it’s the latter, you are a fraud. But I won’t judge you for it. That’s just capitalism. But don’t start lying and saying this is about freedom. This is about money.

I haven’t even begun talking about consequence. Because if a company does have the potential for disruption, selling it would be the ultimate acquiesce of power. You gave the capitalists even more powerful means of production. And that worsens it for everybody. Which, if you cared about the industry enough to try to disrupt it, you should care. .

I think the thing that irked me the most about Dougdoug’s argument is when he said that there is value in having VCs backing new tech. And I think that is stupid. These VCs exist because of the new tech, not the other way around. If you remove the VCs the tech will still come up, but if you remove the tech, these VCs die. Capitalist libertarians want a free market until they start losing.

CHED is costing me 70,000 Pesos

In 2020, I graduated my masters from the National University of Kaohsiung in Taiwan. Since it was the middle of Pandemic and I was about to run out of funds (wala nang flights pauwi), I decided it was time to go home.

I went home, got a job, moved in with my girlfriend. After a few years, its 2023, gusto ko na mag next-step professionally. easy lang dapat no?

So Imagine na ikaw ako, nakakita ka ng job posting sa BSP, looking for masters graduate of Physics, Stats and other fields, Obviously mag-aapply ka. Because who doesn’t want Money, este to serve the Country. After 3 months of Impromptu Exams, Interviews, Medical tests, pagsisinungaling sa mga Boss mo, paghingi ng reference at sobrang daming clearances at forms na sinubmit, you would think na nag-tratrabaho ka na sa BSP by now. NO. Turns out hindi nila masign yung Letter of Appointment ko dahil incomplete yung requirements. Ano yung kulang? Certificate of Equivalency ng degree.

Kelangan pala na for foreign degrees, i-au-authenticate siya ng CHED. Now, nung umuwi ako ng pinas, ang meron lang ako ay yung original na Diploma and TOR ko. CHED requires na authenticated siya ng either: 1. Apostille ng Foreign Ministry,2. Ministry of Education na may hawak sa school. Both of which to be valid signatures: kelangan authenticated ng MECO(Philippines Consulate sa Taiwan). School->District Court-> Ministry of Foreign Affairs-> MECO. Each stage may gastos.

And I thought that is too much work. At hindi lang pala ako nakaisip nun, may digital Certificate ang Ministry of Education ng Taiwan. Turns out hassle rin pala yung kelangan pa na i-authenticate ang degrees by paper kasi pwede mong i-forge ang certificates at matagal iverify ang files. So they have a digitized solution at 2021 pa siya in effect. May encrypted file na ibi-bigay sa iyo ang school, i-forward mo yun to places na aapplyan tapos pwedeng icheck nung prospective employer/new school mo yung validity ng form. It’s operated by Ministry of Education Taiwan, it’s legal and official. Dapat enough na yun no? RIGHT?

CHED says no. Kelangan you have to submit a digital scan of a physical document yung requirement. Which now na hindi valid ang Residence Permit ko sa Taiwan, will cost me 70,000 pesos para maghire ng law firm na pwedeng mag run ng authentication service kasi alam nilang desperado ako. Either that or mag-leave ako ng 2 weeks para makapag-file personally sa Taiwan. Which includes flights, hotels at kung magkano man yung notarial fees.

Look, I get na ang paglakad ng forms at pag-papa authenticate ay something na ginagawa dapat ng graduates at kasalanan ko to dahil umuwi agad ako. pero pota 70,000 Php na kasalanan ang umuwi sa gitna ng pandemic?

Ngayon siguro iniisip niyo na. “Ano ka ba? Baka sa Taiwan, okay lang yung digital certificates, pero iba tayo sa Pilipinas!  Walang kapalit ang papertrail na traceable at physical, right? ” RIGHT? Well guess what. CHED is building exactly that!

SO now I work at BSP.

Meditations

It took me a year to read this book.

if you’re a guy, you probably have read this book. It’s the bible of every 20 something sigma bro that just learned about self improvement. and i can kinda see the appeal. With the enshrinement of the feminine view in today’s culture, men are either large children coddled by the patriarchy with so much privilege Or walking balloons of volatile rage one rejection away from becoming incels. There’s this image of strength and potential locked behind a fragile ego or a prepubescent softness. The sentiment being that you can be the best version of yourself but you’re too soft to let it out. Like a river hiding itself in a bottle. The language bro is espousing is rooted in some primal tendencies, “i’m beast” “that’s wolf shit” “I dominate”. Their aspirations are to let their inner selves out and be admired for it.

And some of the themes of Meditations do touch upon this. The Stoics write themselves a fasciating narrative of both inside and outside. The dialectic of I am part of this world and I am out of it. The synthesis they’ve arrived at to be that participating in the world is involutary, changing to it is.

What took me so long to finish this book is partly the translation. Having to parse thy and thou so often is tough on a man who hasn’t been a consistent reader since 25. But also that I can’t remove the author. Knowing the MArcus Aurelius governed from the center of the world and this is his credo felt incredulous to me. Most powerful man in the world keeps telling himself to let it go, and be the bigger man. It felt so much like a dead father talking to his son through a letter. I felt like my father telling me to man up.

I think my biggest objection is the isolation of it all. The idea that what a person does to you is an action to themselves feels terribly objectivist and individualistic in a sense? That in all of these pages, not enough is discussed about making sure that everyone can try for themselves? The righteous obligation to correct errant behavior. None of that is present. So it just paints the image of the stoic as the man who brushes things off in pursuit of greatness, which Aurelius doesn’t even define.

I do think there is value is stoicism, there’s just not enough empathy.

Tito Prof

Tito Prof has always been my image of the family career man. He was the image of a patriarch much like Vito Corleone in The Godfather. A man who does well in his job and understands that it is in only in the purpose of taking care of family that his job has meaning.

He has never been shy spending to provide new family moments. He bought a farm in Laur, so his mother could grow old in a peaceful place. He has always given the most money on new year. He brought crabs once. And in return has only received t-shirts and bottles of liquor.

When my father started a business selling chili garlic, Tito Prof would sell them to everyone who would visit him, asking for a sign-off. Literally, someone would need a signature for a document and he would try to add it to their purchase like an add-on to a burger.

When I was in high school, I needed a finepoint (0.3) pens. A 60-peso gel-tech pen would have worked just fine, sign-pens would have passed. But when I mention it to my parents, they told him, and he gave me one of his drafting pens. A Fucking Drafting pen that actual architects and Engineers who make buildings, and pipes and blueprints use; a pen that gave even lines and are engineered so precise and are oh so expensive. In his mind, it was obvious that I needed this, because I was in a high school drafting class. In one of my biggest regrets, I lost that pen. I hate myself for it every time I remember.

In college, he lent my parents money for a semester’s worth of tuition. No questions, just faith. I work hard to be worth that faith.

He was eloquent with his words, loving to his wife, sweet to his grandchildren. His voice was raspy from smoking cigarettes his whole life but it carried well. He spoke with the same gravitas whether it was a speech, or just a conversation.

At the yearly New Year’s Party, all the adult men would be at one table away from everyone else, drinking the liquor they all gave to each other. I figured the table was somewhere I would be when I became a man. I thought I would one day drink with all of them. Now that can never be.

Rest in Peace Tito.