Eric’s passing was a reminder to me about how life can be so unpredictable. I think to myself about how many precious hours I have wasted in my life not having lived it to the fullest. I watched Titanic five times â€â€that’s 15 hours of my life. I have spent a sixth of it at least wishing I were someone else. A tenth perhaps thinking ill thoughts. The rest of it thinking of nothing at all. People say that a person should live life to the fullest  to live each day as if it were your last. Well, as cheesy and clichéd as it may sound  it’s probably the best advice you may ever receive in your lifetime.
When my lolo passed away, it was the most painful experience I ever had to go through. He was the closest person to me. Yet, as real as the turn of events were, it seemed so surreal to me. From the time his heart stopped beating, to the time I put a rosary on his hardened hands, to the time I threw the last rose on his coffin as they were lowering it into the ground  none of those moments seemed real. I like to believe that he is on vacation or something and 10 years later I still think he’s just sitting in his rocking chair in San Francisco waiting for me to visit him.
Death is as real as life itself. However, its reality escapes us because its essence and direction are beyond our comprehension. In a way, no matter how spiritual one may be we all become agnostic to a certain extent. This is more evident when a tragedy hits. We lose a bit of faith in life and what transcends the parameters of our tangible world. We doubt God since we feel so much pain. We doubt justice because we feel wronged. We doubt love because it is replaced by loss.
Then the miracle of life manifests itself as we surprise ourselves with the resiliency of our spirit. How we stand up from a painful fall and emerge stronger than we have ever been. It does not matter what religion one believes in, what holds all the good things in life together is faith. A faith that there is more to life than pain. That disappointment is merely a means to a much more brilliant end.
This week I was troubled by certain things. First I was saddened that someone was circulating this mean e-mail about me. I mean, I sort of appreciated it because it was really well-written but I can’t help but feel that there was sort of a Charles Mason-ish/Melrose Place tone to it that just bothered me. It seemed to stab me as a person and not just the work I do, and it poked fun at my aspirations and ambitions which is a blow below the belt.
But what was really bothersome was the amount of effort that whoever is behind the e-mail put to construct such a sad symbol of hate. However, no matter how much all your loved ones say it’s ok and that it’s part of life  I still can’t help but feel bad. I’ve never been one to veil my emotions. The articles that I have written which at times might have appeared stupid  sometimes even ok, but mostly just fluffy  are meant to poke fun at the lighter side of life. It has never been my intention to hurt, or offend anyone. What bothers me the most is when people call me a wannabe when all I have ever wanted to be is myself. I never dreamt of f**king everyone in New York, having curly hair or being the star of the coolest show on HBO. Though I love the show, I do not work this hard to be the sad spinoff of anything. I’m not Shakespeare but I do have the habits of Hemingway and the delusions of Fitzgerald living la dolce vita 24/7 (at least in my thoughts), though unintentionally. Then I thought about it and I’ ve already committed my crimes like wasting 15 hours of my life watching Titanic. This person has wasted a good 30 minutes or so writing such a vile letter, and then wasted another minute forwarding it. For what purpose I do not know. It was such a beautiful and well-written essay, but in the end its brilliance is blunted by its sourness.
I am reacting to this because this is exactly why I say we should be more prudent in choosing how we live our lives.
In his letter the writer says that he or she likes reading my articles because they give him/her a high just getting so irritated with my column. If that’s his guilty pleasure then he should see a shrink. Sure my lifestyle is less than noble, I doubt I’ll get an award for anything in the future. But I’m just having fun, and the three thousand or so characters that make my column a week surely do not complete what I am as a person and the real life I live.
Reveling in hating someone is just gonna give you wrinkles, baby and maybe even shave off your personality and make you a big, ugly grump. Life is fun, why waste your time getting a high being irritated? If that’s your trip read the front pages.
Another point is, though this person may say that I’m shallow and dim, well, I’m sorry I don’t live up to your standards. However, it’s meant to be what it’s meant to beâ€â€stupid fun. I may curse like a truck driver and yes I like buying bath gels on a daily basis, but I have never in my life made it a mission to hurt anybody. I used to think all those bad text messages and e-mails were innocuous until it happened to me. Though I have never been the type to forward anything bad, unless the victim was a friend of mine and I wanted to inform him or her. However, I now see things in a different light. It’s a lesson for me that the sin of omission is just as bad as sinning itself.
Life should as much as possible be spent proactively. It should be flowered with a sense of humor, lived with passion and without apologies. Yet at the end the day we are all responsible for our actions. Live a little and as I always say, when life gives you lemons, make a cosmo. Cheers!