Brain Contour

Who wants a date on Valentine’s Day? No, I do not want one. No need to beat around the bush, I abhor the day. When St. Valentine sent the first ‘Valentine’ greeting ‘From your Valentine’ during the third century, I have this idea he wasn’t after for an intimate love. Go google it. The greeting was for the daughter of a prison guard who constantly visited him in his prison cell after he was caught for not obeying or supporting the Emperor’s law on marriages. On the day he was sentenced to death, he left the note thanking the girl for friendship and loyalty.

The note was about friendship. Valentine was a good priest and I deem he cannot allow himself to fall in love with a girl and abandon his holy vows. He was after for friendship alone.

Mama told me not to build castles in the air, but of bricks. She was the one who constantly pushed me forward and stirred me to strive to be the best that I can. In the countless times that things went south and continued to fall apart, there she was, a wonder woman standing by my side swift to shield every unwilling part of me from the falling debris. She was there in each tear that was about to trickle or a smile that was about to break into laughter. She was there where superman failed to show and when any other superhero fell short to save.

Unlike Papa whose character could be likened to a silent harp, Mama harps her subterranean emotions out. The day when she defended my older brother from a wrongdoing and said how much she loves both of us and shed a tear afterwards, I cried with her.

Do your friends take your childhood disappointments and misadventures seriously? As for mine, sadly, never mind. In a conversation I had with close friends yesterday, never have they been sorry about my stories spiced up with sour remembrances of days past. Am I inadequate with attention? Fine if they laughed. It was worse when those moments I wanted them to hear didn’t seem to have significance of sorts. Not meaningful enough.

Maybe, it’s funny for me to be forlorn over spilt milk. Come on. Is there really no sense in looking back and basking in the afterthought that I can still dignify, by dint of memory, even the foregone moments I once detested but now merrily summon. Like when …

A few minutes ago, I approved my 128th “Facebook” pal. Do I hear hurrah? Okay, I do not have to blow my own horn as it is too small a number compared to many other members who probably are growing their list of friends every day, even reaching the cap of 5000. While these “others” have been opening and owning multiple profiles to accommodate newly-found online friends, here I am stuck to my slow-growing barely one-friend-a-month account. But it is understandable, for I have never been a fan of the social network anyway. Hence, accumulating over a hundred of so-called friends may suffice for now.