The Ides of March

Beware the Ides of March!
-a soothsayer in long-dead Willie's play

March's coming and a lot will happen. I've got three empirical papers that will probably be done the medical way* since I've also got two exams on the same day: March 1.

Then on March 3, I'll have my wonderful interview with the wonderful people of PGH. The instructions given to me were: one, come one hour before your scheduled time; two, dress appropriately; three, don't be late; four, come on time.

I've already imagined many different ways that things can go wrong. Like, an earthquake could destroy the LRT while I'm riding it or the interviewers could be cannibals or I spill some liquid on my shirt or I trip and get a deep wound on my left eyebrow or someone steals my shoes or the world suddenly explodes in a great big bang. I think I'll die of worry before March 3.

Then, I'll have to buy my father a gift. His birthday's on March 5. He's a Pisces, which explains his special brand of anger. I don't know what to buy him. I asked Ryan and he said, "Golf balls." Golf balls? For his 56th birthday, we'll give him golf balls?

It actually makes sense when you think about it. My sister and I used to give him old golf magazines bought from a thrift shop. And we actually thought that he was so happy with what we bought**. Oh, the burdens of age are so...burdensome.

And my brother, he's asking for things now. He used to be so content with the world, but now he's asking for things. When he was younger, we would ask him, "What would you like for your birthday?" and he would say, "Nothing." or "Just money." That was then.

Now, he's asking for a book and two CDs and it's not even his birthday. I've been looking around for Pugad Baboy 18 but all I've found were two copies with missing pages. One of the CDs is already out of print. It was an indie and he most probably got his taste for it from me. No way could he encounter Radioactive Sago on his own.

But, Brownman Revival? I don't listen to that. I'm sure no one in the family introduced him to pinoy reggae. When did he start having his own taste in music? I'll probably send the CD and book along with my father's gift.

It will definitely not be a bunch of golf balls because, in the words of countless maharishis, mystics, mountain goats, mistletoes, and mad people from my generation, it's corny.

And, I will never, for the rest of eternity, no matter what happens, even if the heavens fall and the oceans boil and the clouds turn to ash, ever give my father another golf magazine***.

That leaves golf gloves or a shirt.

By the way, what's an Ide?


* Doctored data.
** He probably was happy with the thought of a gift from his children, but not with the gift itself.
*** There's always an exception; I just can't think of one right now.