Another One Wipes the Dust

Earlier today, my brother and I decided to clean the house. I've been itching to do it ever since I got back from my Christmas vacay at home. I swear, familiarity has a way of tightening its grasps on you once you decide to meet up face-to-face with the source of your nostalgia. In my case, it was Iligan. A place which I once deemed to be too little for my dreams. But nothing ever beats being home. It's like what Juno said, "I never realize how much I like being home unless I've been somewhere really different for a while." 

Iligan was a sad sight. Everyone was in mourning. I could feel the cloud of tragedy still lingering in the air. People were on edge. A slight drizzle could arouse panic and fear. Like most people belonging to my generation, I expect things to gratify me (usually in the form of merriment -- decadence is optional). So this somber look of the city I used to spend many nights (and sometimes days) being youthful and carefree seemed, uhh, new to me. But of course I soon realized that these are times that need to be taken seriously. And I'm just very thankful that the ones I love are safe. I still keep praying for their safety up to now.

Anyway, let's go back to what I'm supposed to bitch about in this post. I guess I have a little anal in me. No matter how messy others may think I am, I like my place to be neat and organized. That does not mean I clean my house every single day. It just means that when I see something that's obviously dirty, I clean it.

The house has been covered in dust in days weeks now. I was supposed to attend my masteral classes today, but the thought of school (that school) just made me a manic-depressive and born-again truant. So I decided, like I have in the past Saturdays, to be an irresponsible graduate student. Out of guilt, I consoled myself by aiming to do something productive today. Compensation. So I decided to . . . (wait for it) . . . CLEAN THE HOUSE! It took a while for me to get my brother's cooperation. He's not exactly the type who seems to have a heightened tolerance towards dust particles. He's just plain lazy. Lazier than I. That's the worst kind of lazy there is!

I wanted to rid the house of all the dirty things that belonged to the past year. It just didn't seem right that it's already the new year, yet our place of dwelling is unflatteringly decorated with 2011's clutter.

So there I was, in one of my sporadic fits of heeding to the call of responsibility. Cleaning. It's hard to "maneuver" things when you're not alone in doing something, especially when the things you want done are never done (properly). My brother, with the idea of rebellion growing bigger and bigger inside his head, refuses to adhere to the pecking order. He's stubborn and hard-headed. He never follows (most of) my orders anymore. I have lost my dominion over him. Gone were the days when I used to let him do my bidding. All because of rebellion. A nasty by-product of puberty, next to acne and awareness of individual freedoms.

It's a sad day when an older brother realizes that he can no longer play the age card to his advantage. I am currently relishing what's left of my control over my younger brother. And not a lot of adherence to me in him is left. Nevertheless, I'm still happy that the house is squeaky clean; happy that he wiped the windows like I told him to.

But before I end this post, here's my adieu to the year that has passed:

2012 is sooo going to top you. Or at least I hope it will.