His Name Was Alexander.

I'm supposed to be writing an article today about some tar sands producer in the western part of Canada or so I think, but good old migraine is getting in the way. I've already taken a reliable dose of Medicol Advance, I'm just waiting now for it to go away.

Migraine, migraine go away.
Little Tsinny wants to play write.

It didn't rhyme, but let's move on.

That was actually three days ago! Yes, I started this three days ago hoping that I could finish it by then.

Moving on, I'm all good now except that I'm feeling slightly feverish. Well, at least I'm sure I won't be going down the dirty road to sore eyes because it seems like everybody has it these days! God forbid! Aside from the threatening fever, my knees are also jittery! Because... I think I just heard an Indian chant or something from a very close (mockery intended) Indian client of ours.

Anyhoo...

*drum roll*

I'm finally done with the 3rd day letter: to the Parents :) Hoorah to me! Hoorah!

Writing this letter did make me feel very, very nostalgic even though I'm already in my twenty's and still living under the same roof with them and sometimes, sharing the same bed, too! Our family has really been through a lot of challenges and tough times as in ala MMK, but we still manage somehow to live normal lives. And though there have been numerous black holes I am proud to have come out of them alive and stronger. With all of those trials, there is one thing that I've learned and gained that no other experience could ever give me and that would be that things do happen for a reason. Such a cliche, but very, very true! Especially for me!

When our family went into the dark ages of our lifetime, I was very angry to the world. I asked God, like any other man who faces a tragedy, why it had to happen to us. We were so perfect. I had the best parents in the world although I wasn't usually close to my mother. I could get everything I wanted and needed by just merely asking and showering my father, who adores me like no other, with hugs and kisses. I was born with the world underneath my flaky feet, but I lost it all -- we lost it all -- without any glory at all. In fact, stripping us off of our dignity and making us suffer with shame for years.

But I've moved on from that. I believe that it ought to happen to change me wholly. I believe that my destiny shouldn't be affected by my parents' doings. I believe that I could change my life if I want to without putting the blame to my folks. And that it is never right to allow people to define my being through their judgment of my parents. Yes, I came from them and they gave me my life, but I am entirely different from them. I am not my parents. I am me. I have the power to build my own dreams and make my own choices.

I have forgiven them, too, especially my father. For what is moving on without forgiveness, right?

Here's my letter to my parents. Freshly scanned. You can click the photos for a bigger image and see if you can read my ugly-duckling handwriting :)





I am different names to different people,

~tSin

P.S.

Alexander? Is my prep-school crush! *blush*