Surreal

Netnet Camomot

WHEN a responsibility is offered to you and you accept it, no matter how reluctant that acceptance is, you now have the duty to meet goals for the whole duration of that responsibility. Sacrifices have to be made. If, say, your life revolves around reading and writing, you may have to give up one of them. So, which will it be? Which will keep you sane?

Reading and writing are partners in crime. The more you read, the better the writing. Does it follow then, that once reading is not possible for now, the writing suffers? Writing block galore, facing the whiteness of a Notes page while thinking of the many deadlines looming overhead, no thanks to that one-year responsibility.

But who’s complaining? You’ve learned to embrace everything that the responsibility entails, even the sleepless nights and the midnight snack binges. Wait, no need to learn to embrace the midnight snacks, for you’ve been embracing that since birth. Yes, since birth, waking up Mama and Daddy with eardrum-piercing cries–Uhaaaaa!!!–for your dose of milk.

The date to look forward to now is February 28. That’s the deadline for the accomplishment report. After that, yehey! Doesn’t mean no more projects, for there will be projects up to June, but at least the report is sent and, hmmm, bahala na si Batman with that.

You can finally go back to reading after Feb. 28. Puhon. Puera buyag.

Reading was your original plan for 2015-2016. And to write from 8 am up to 5 pm the way real writers do. Hmmm. Real. Does that mean your writing is surreal?

When Pia Wurtzbach used “surreal” in describing her Miss Universe win, a Pinoy national broadsheet lifestyle correspondent posted on Facebook if there’s a Tagalog word for that. My comment for his query, though, was in Cebuano: Murag tinuod pero dili diay. Not the exact words but… Something. Like. That.

But the opposite of real is not surreal.

The opposite of real is fake. Like, real fur, fake fur. Real jewelry, fake jewelry. Real imitation, fake imitation. Ah, hehe. Louis Vuitton versus Luis Button, anyone?

A fake bag can easily reveal itself if displayed along with real ones. By the logo’s spelling alone, alam na! Pradada, Guccigucci, Marky Mark Jacobs. And there must be a Hermiss out there.

If you’re the type that uses a bag until you find another one on sale, the old bag may have to wait till its frayed nerves regress into a nervous breakdown.

A bag is a fat woman’s best friend–no need to squeeze into it while feeling claustrophobic inside a miniature fitting room. No need to ask for bigger sizes unless you want a huge tote bag for your piano. That’s me, by the way. A first cousin used to joke that I bring along a piano whenever I travel. I’ve never learned to travel light. Add to that my big-size clothes, and the next question will be, What light?

A slim friend once brought this tiny backpack for our weekend vacay in Davao. I thought that was for her wallet, plane ticket, and kikay kit. Until I noticed her cute sling bag. Oh. That’s when I started wishing for my fats to banish to Siberia so I could finally travel light, or at least put more clothes in my luggage.

For now, though, the eye luggage is enjoying the limelight as it takes center stage on my face. If only there are 36 hours in a day, so I could use those extra 12 hours for sleeping.

If ever someone asks an insomniac how he feels after one more sleepless night, can the latter say, Surreal? But before surreal can become as used, misused and abused as the word “amazing,” better find out first what it means.

Urban Dictionary defines it this way–“The way ghetto people pronounce ‘Cereal’:

“Momma, why can’t I eat Kraft Mac N’ Cheese for breakfast?”

“Shut your mouf, D’Quayshius and eat yo surreal.”