Excerpt from Fernand Yim In Hundred days: DAY 3 NAIVE

Below is another excerpt from my first novel about a young man who grew up with a step-father. What I like about this entry is the way it was written. It is so informative, so easy to read, and the flow is somewhat friendly. It is also known to my siblings as the Coffee Lesson.

It is a beautiful Sunday morning. The sun is bright and soft. It gives me the feeling of wanting to fly along with the brown birds (Hindi ko alam ang tawag sa mga ibon na ito, eh.). The air smells like a fresh cut grass. The sky is like a very bright blue ceiling of heavens, I think today's sky is the bluest sky ever I have seen in all days of my life. The green trees seem dancing to the secret lyrics and rhythm of the wind. I can see three children preparing for the Church service today. One of them is a small kid. He is wearing jumper paired with a red T-shirt. I notice his tiny rubber shoes a little old now. I don't have to worry about that because later today, Mama would bring the three kids to shop for some new clothes. But I don't count on it a lot. Recently, I can feel that Papa is starting to have problems at his work. Perhaps Roron would have to wait for another weekend.

I busy myself with preparing a mug of hot white coffee. I can hear Papa playing his guitar on the sofa. Cristina is in the front of the mirror, making herself as beautiful as possible. I wonder why she has to do that when she is actually going to attend a church service, not a party. In the meantime, Nicalyn is helping Mama with the kids. Jojo is watching TV; he is already dressed up for the church today.

So it is a beautiful day, I think. I don't see anything to make me upset today. I need this peaceful start of a must-be-exciting debate later afternoon with Jay-Em. I have finally decided that I should tell him everything. He will understand. He can relate also to Dylan because he is a lovechild, too.

Now the mug has all the important ingredients of a java-beautiful day. The sugar. It seems to represent the beautiful moments of our lives. My arrival into this world was quite complicated yet I have a complete family. That is beautiful and I am thankful for this to God as always.

The coffee. I always love coffee. Mama says that the Yims are heavy coffee drinker. Although I carry the name of Papa, by blood I will always be one of them. About the coffee, do you know that next to oil, coffee is one of the world's most valuable agricultural commodities with 10 billion pounds produced each year in 75 countries? Wala lang. Nabasa ko lang sa isang libro. The book also says that coffee has no calories. Another book states that coffee has no food value. And another medicine book says that drinking coffee is like drinking a poison. It is because a cup of coffee contains about 100 milligrams of caffeine. And caffeine is classed as both stimulant and poison. The fatal dose is listed as one third ounce. It would require the caffeine in 80 to 100 ordinary cups of coffee to prove fatal if taken in a single dose. So I'm on the safe zone after all. And who would want to drink hundred cups of coffee in one drinking? Yuck!

Suddenly I think of Dylan. Would he consider killing himself by drinking that much of coffee as his poison? Stupid me. I should not play with something serious like a person's life. Back to coffee lecture, there is a funny thing about the discovery of coffee. Do you believe that coffee is discovered by goats? According to the legend, a monk first used coffee beans in trying to keep others at the monastery from falling asleep during prayer. This idea came after discovering a goat herder whose 'dancing goats' ate mysterious red beans.

Anyway, whatsoever those intelligent people say about coffee, I still like it. I drink at least two mugs of coffee a day. That is far to become a poison. It feels good to feel safe, huh? And when we translate coffee into life's points of view, we can see it as a reminder that life is not all about sweetness. Although it tastes bitter, it helps us to wake up from fantasy and will ourselves to do something good to adjust to the reality. And it helps to balance things out. Like, you know, we can never appreciate sweetness if we don't know bitterness.

And the cream. I most like my coffee if it is mixed with cream. My explanation to that, it is like combining the sweet and bitter tastes to create a more delicious flavor. Like adjusting to what life has offered to you each day. You know that you can never have a day so perfect unless you know how to see and appreciate more all the beautiful things than some flaws.

That is how I take each day. If something not-so-nice comes up, I take a long deep breath and think of the beautiful things. It has become a hobby now so it is a lot easier to control my temper. Bait ko naman, 'no?

So everything is now in the mug. I like starting my morning with my personal mug to drink my coffee. I need that little time to wake up to the real world after nine hours of sleep. One thing left to do is to pour the hot water into my mug. Then, there it goes. My morning is complete. I get the Thermos, open it, and lift it slightly horizontal to let the hot liquid pour down into my mug. Finally I can drink my first coffee today, I whisper. I'm a little excited.

It feels like I am having a sudden nightmare. I can't breathe. I try again. Now the Thermos is actually upside down. Walang mainit! Sino ba ang huling nagkape? Bakit hindi man lang nag-init? Nakakainis naman, kapeng-kape na ako! Hala, sira na ang araw ko! Ano na? The temper, breathe…

More of In Hundred Days by Fernand Yim. #

Reporting,
Fernand Yim

The Nine Hardest Times Of Your Life

I received this via a text message from Charlene, one of my good friends in college, during my pre-employment days after our graduation. I don't know how it will concern you; however, I find it worth-pondering.

1. Being questioned when you yourself don’t understand.

2. Pretending to be innocent of what you’re guilty about.

3. Trying to forget something you know you never will.

4. Admitting that you are wrong after you had been so insistent that you were right.

5. Debating with yourself.

6. Accepting the fact that some things are not meant to be.

7. Trying to understand when you just can’t.

8. Realizing that you have been tricked after you have given your whole trust.

9. Parting and letting go of someone who made you believe in love. #

Reporting,
Fernand Yim

The Coffee Table Report

Being a part-time on-line writer (Thanks to Janette Toral) is a dream job that has come true. I was aware of the challenges along with it since that I had been part of our school organ in high school and in college. Still, I realized that these types of challenges I had in mind before I got the job were quite simple compared to the challenges happening to me now.

There instances like I had to meet up with a particular person who would never show up at all, sent e-mails that received no reply, finished stories that had no complementary pictures, etc.

During the Iblog4, someone had said (one of the speakers) that one of the major problems with blogging in the Philippines (and making it relatively popular or a better alternative source of information among Filipinos) is the lack of access of many Pinoys to internet. Hearing this, I was quiet on my seat. It made me realize how so ordinary I was in that event. It felt good, though, that I had become part of it (and looking forward to attending all the future events). To some point, I was proud of it.

However, something was telling me I was kind of out of place. Many participants had brought their laptops, and more than the material aspect of what they have that I don’t, (Do I sound envious here? Err!) they were also talking about things from the point of views of probloggers (Or is it hyphenated?). It made me quite aloof to, at least, talk to my seatmate. What would I say in the first place?

But all in all, I learned so much and felt terribly lucky to be part of it. In addition, it was so cool! So what if I don’t have a computer at home (yet)? It will never stop me from being a blogger. I believe that those things they know can be learned.



Back to the topic (the part-time writing setbacks), I just come up with a very good writing therapy that will keep me with my writing mood! Reason behind this was that before, I always had trouble bringing back my writing mood after a short (or long) time interval between my writing moods. It was really frustrating. So there, the idea is to keep myself on writing. While I am waiting for my sources to knock up, (this is if I’m not on the hunt of another source) I have decided to write about anything inspiring, funny, etc. And this will be called…are you ready? THE COFFEE TABLE REPORT. Baduy, I know! Whatever you say, let us get on the first entry under The Coffee Table Report. Ouch! #

Reporting,
Fernand Yim

Excerpt from Fernand Yim In Hundred days: DAY 2a THE BLACK BOOK

Below is an excerpt from the hopefully-my-first-novel-to-get-published which about a young man who grew up with a step-father. In the following entry, it discusses about his discovery of his true identity. It is very emotional and my heart goes with it as I wrote it down that humid silent night of April in 2003.

Back to the diary, I carefully turn up the hanging old note to start reading on the first entry. But interestingly, there is another old note, this time it is glued on the first page. Again, it was done by the same kid, only little years older. Without so much thinking, I read on.

Hello, Yraid!
I am Dylan. I am a happy nine-year-old boy. I live in Solid Rock with my Momma and Daddy. I have a sister named Antoinette. Antoinette is her real name. She is seven years old.

Dylan is not my real name. But I like it. In my dreams, I always play football with angels of my age. They always cheer for me every time I do the home run. They call me Dylan. I like the sound of it. Antoinette and the rest of my friends call me Dylan. And so my Momma, too!

Momma is beautiful. She is the best cook in the world. She also bakes sweet cakes and cookies every now and then.

Daddy never knows I am Dylan. Daddy is a big man. He is like a giant when he walks around the house. I always hurt my neck each time I look at his serious face. He rarely smiles at me. Daddy only smiles at Antoinette, especially when she does something excellent like playing the violin. I play the flute. But Daddy hates the sounds of it. So I don't play it when he is home. He loves Antoinette so much. Sometimes I think Daddy hates me. But Momma says Daddy loves me, too. I feel sad. Daddy was never happy for me. Even if I am a good boy. Momma says I am a good boy. Mrs. Bernardo says it, too! She is our class adviser.

I love Antoinette very much. Momma loves her, too. I am sad because she is sick. I don't know what it is called. They said it is a heart disease. We go to the same school. Many times she has a hard time in breathing. We worry a lot about her. I think Daddy loves her more because she is sick. I wish I was sick, too. I wish I also had the heart disease.

Dylan#

It is a very sad entry. It is far different from the first note. He was a very sad boy. I wonder why he started this entry by saying he was a happy boy. Maybe he did not even know about his true feeling. What had happened in those entries in between? I wish I could know. This time we are not the same.

As I turn the first page, I have the feeling of both excitement and guilt. I have never imagined how exciting it could be to have a chance to read into one's life. It is like peeking into a real life story. It is like watching movie or reading a novel. The only better difference it gives is the closer feeling, like I play his role, like I can feel him in every line and sentence.

Otherwise, I also feel guilt for intruding. I want to scold myself for doing it but the desire to know more about him rises as my curiosity increases as well. Besides there is no address or identification anywhere so how could I return it to him?
Also I did not get this diary in purpose, it was so coincidental. I think it was fate. And I promise that once I discover where he lives so that I could bring it back to him, I would stop reading. Uh-uh, promise! And if I found nothing? I'll burn it.

The second page is his official first entry in this black book. I read on.

I feel myself floating, like my spirit is left hanging in the air. I want to fly away from here to a far distant world. I want to keep flying until I lost my way back home. Until there is no trace to turn back. I want to be lost, I want to die and be gone forever. I want to speak to God before His holy feet and cry unto Him. God is the only One who can understand my situation today. No one else but Him. For even I cannot comprehend. It is as if my simple knowledge is corrupted. I can't find the easiest way to connect myself to the news today. To the shocking truth.

I never thought, not even in my dreams, that I was living all lies! That everything about me is not real! But if there is one thing not real, it is me. I am not real! It feels so bad that I become instantly a stranger to the world, and very much to myself! It feels like the whole world means nothing all of the sudden, like I am dead and alive at the same time!

I went to Daddy earlier today to arrange my name, I had to submit some sort of legal papers to the school registrar to vouch for my birth certificate. I never knew in my whole life I don't have my father signed on it! At first I thought it was a joke that I don't have a father in my birth certificate but it was true. So Daddy had to do something. I did not know what was with him, he seemed mad already about it even before I introduced the topic to him. I did not know if it had something to do with my discovery or whatever there was. I can't explain everything in full details but we came up to a very serious argument. I couldn't understand why he kept on giving alibis, weird excuses, and funny reasons just to avoid signing on the papers!

There came the big news. He took me by my shoulder and shook me so hard. I almost lost my balance and felt serious pain that almost break my bones, when he yelled at me with that very clear loud voice, "YOU ARE NOT MY SON!" I did not understand it but the words were strong. They crept their way into me and sting my ears. I saw happiness in those eyes when he said that. Like a big rock of mountain was finally removed from his chest, like he was waiting for this day. I wanted to hear it again. I wanted to make sure of the pain it brought to me. I wanted to feel the roughness in those words again. I felt in an instant that the rock of mountain was transferred to me. I couldn't breathe. I feared that if I breathed, I would break into tears. I wouldn't let him have a chance to see me cry.

So strange it was but I caught a hopeless idea that he must be joking after all. Until I finally heard Momma crying. I didn't know where exactly she was, I couldn't see clearly. My eyes were blurred with tears. It took me some time to realize I was actually crying. I felt like a rock of statue, I couldn't move. Very shocked I was. I wanted to deny it. Momma wrapped me within her arms, but I was so lost that I never recognized her embrace.

I'm not his son. He is not my father. Ha-ha-ha, I should be glad about it. But why am I crying? Is Momma my real mother, too? Yeah, she is. I saw her name on my birth certificate. Now what should I do? I don't know, I don't know.

Dylan#

I feel crying myself. I am so sorry about him. I turn close the diary. I think I have enough for one night. I'm floating in my thoughts. Is this a work of fate, a fate's game it plays on me? How could it be? Dylan is telling almost my very own story! Only Papa is kind to me. Pity grows in me. If it is for him or me, I don't exactly know.

Perhaps the reason of stapling the old note on the first page is to seize some hope. He can't find hope from today, so he holds on from the past where happy memories and untouched truth dwell on forever. His strength is from the past. And something is unknown and dark in his future starting to build up, waiting to clasp him within the murkiest pit on earth. Like what Comy said, future knows. I keep the diary back into the shelf.

I retreat to the bed and lie on my back. I close my eyes. I search for the Holy Spirit and begin to pray. I pray for him. And for me, as well. Then I smile, finding a considerable difference between us. That is the source of our strength. His from the old gone years, mine from my Savior. Suddenly warm feeling cradles me into sleep. Before I finally fall into dreamland, somewhere within me, there is a cold voice asking, how far our lives could be so much alike? Again, future knows. God knows…

More to come about In Hundred Days by Fernand Yim. #

Reporting,
Fernand Yim

My Writing Life

To every thing there is a season
and a time to every purpose under the heaven.
ECCLESIASTES 3:1 KJV

I just got a job last week. The training will start on May 12. I am very happy and thankful about it. And since it will take a couple of weeks or so, it also provides me so much time to relax and to reflect on my life, particularly on my writing life.

I don't want to be idle so I keep on writing. Many times I write articles about anything then leave it unfinished. There are so many exciting ideas running in my head. Sometimes it troubles me to choose which one of them I should pursue first. So what I do is I write them at any time I feel the passion of writing them. Although I always leave them half-finished, I'm okay with that.

I don't have to force myself on finishing them just for the sake of finishing them. I like my ideas or articles growing through process in which they could be like children learning things one by one. It gives them both the opportunity and time to become better and more valuable. They become richer, and to some point, they become my children. And as their sole parent, I take charge of their growth and destination. And more importantly, I enjoy the process or journey they have to go through until they reach their purpose.

Moreover, it doesn't matter how many unfinished articles and stories I have written. It doesn't mean I won't make a good writer. It could mean something else, like the first part is meant to be written today, and the other half is meant for another day. I don't want to be pushy on my writing. I strongly believe it is a gift from God which I should take responsibility, and most of all, enjoy it. So I will keep on writing. #

Reporting,
Fernand Yim

False Guilt

"When you pray you are forgiven. You only need to ask Him once. The false guilt is the work of the devil. Don't welcome him in. Free yourself by forgiving yourself. Remember, Christ's holy death releases you completely from God's judgement. So claim it. You deserve it. I know you can succeed. Because I did."

Reporting,
Fernand Yim