Bound by Blood

I've never been really close to my brother. I've lived with him all my life, we're the grandchildren who were left in our grandparents' house when our parents decided to move to another home. We shared a room when we were little, and he was my constant playmate during childhood--- still, we never really had a strong bond. For one thing, he was my constant enemy when we were growing up. Almost every day during our play sessions, what started out as fun would turn into arguments, and almost always those arguments would give rise to full blown fist fights. I guess that's a logical consequence when you're fond of playing war games. We fought about a lot of other things, like who gets first dibs at the bathroom, who gets to use the car... a lot stemming out from our differences--- little things that would start out as trivial, suddenly turning into huge quarrels. No matter how much we look alike, especially when he became health conscious during our late teens and lost a lot of weight--- to the point that people thought we were twins, we are very different from each other. We're not just slightly different... some of our differences turn us into complete opposites. For instance, regarding our tastes in music, he likes anything sung by African American artists, be it hip hop or RNB. I prefer alternative rock, and I love heavy metal music--- I love listening to all that noise every time I need to vent off. And I hate hip hop music because to my ears, one hip hop song sounds almost exactly like the others. You can just imagine the arguments that would follow by simply turning the CD player on. Our rooms are next to each other, and when one of us is sleeping or needs to study, the urge to destroy the other person's CD player is very hard to resist. Based on our personal traits, he's the vain one, and I was the one who did not care about looks. He's the more athletic one. He's the more sociable one. If I had to pick up a certain stereotype when we were growing up, In a typical high school setting, he'd be Mr. Popularity and I'd be that EMO- grunge kid who simply didn't give a fuck. Growing up, at least to my parent's eyes, I was the rebel, and he was the obedient son. He was the health conscious one, the religious one, the one who was more buff, the one who shared more interests with my dad--- no wonder he's his favorite son. He's the one with a stable job, the one who gets a huge income, the one who's financially stable. He's the son who didn't give them any problems. He's the son who makes them proud. On the other hand, I was the one who started smoking at an early age and was stupid enough to get caught, I was the one who was on the verge of becoming an alcoholic, I was the one who tried drugs, I was the one who was fond of wrecking cars, I was the one who always answered back, i was the one who tried to fight back, I was the one that my parents found hard to understand. I was the one who always had issues, the son they couldn't pry open because I refused to speak up and always chose to keep things to myself. Presently, I'm the one with no stable job, the one with no stable income, the one with no definite future. I'm the one who still kept giving them problems. When I'm introduced to guests, they say I'm a doctor... and that's that. That's all there is to say, nothing else follows.

All those comparisons made between us definitely weren't helping. For some reason, our parents thought that putting us into some sort of competition would make us grow into better persons. Every time our grades from school would come out, they would compare our grades and say things like "why couldn't you be more like your brother", even though the difference between our grades weren't that much. And since he usually gets better grades, more often I was on the receiving end of such lines. Every time I went home drunk, every time I would do something stupid, every time I did something that they did not approve of, be it regarding my career, my habits, my personal beliefs, the people I choose to be friends with... I still hear that line. My brother was the ideal one, and I was the problem child. All those comparisons made me steadily despise him while we were growing up, and they only served to drive the wedge between us even deeper.

In recent years, we've had less arguments, and I can't seem to recall the last time we had a major fight that resulted to battered bodies and bruised egos. I guess that's just a natural result of becoming adults. We still don't talk much since our interests are still very different. We can't even talk about work since the jargon used in the marketing and medical fields are very very different. But we did have several opportunities to bond. An out of town trip early this year, then going on several surfing trips during the last quarter of the year. And yeah, we've had several drinking sessions during those times, making us seemingly closer to each other from the point of view of another person. But most of the times, we're just civil to each other. We still lived in the same house, yet we hardly talk to each other. But at least we don't fight with each other anymore. Sometimes when I watch Prison Break or Supernatural, I wonder why we couldn't be like those brothers who are incredibly close to each other, to the point that they would do anything for each other. I guess we were simply not meant to be like that.

December 25th of this year. I was time to open our Christmas presents. One of the gifts he gave me was a book entitled Strength Finder 2.0 by Tom Rath, with the words "Now, Discover Your Strengths!" highlighted above the title. My thoughts were--- WTF?! A self- help/ inspirational book?! Jeez, did he actually think I would read this shit? What gift would I expect from someone who doesn't really know me. I just tossed the book in a pile of junk in my room and then left our house because I had to go someplace else.

When I got home, I found the book in my bed. Even in my half-drunken state I was certain I did not leave it there. I guess someone put it there, probably him, I don't know. I opened the book and saw that he wrote something on one of the flyleaves.

Hey Big Brother!

I know you may may think that reading this book is a waste of your time, but I still hope you would try reading it. I believe it will help you discover your strengths, as well as your true character. I think this will greatly and positively impact your professional career as well as your personal life.

I hope it helps you become the world's best doctor, regardless of the specialization you choose. Please tell me your top 5 themes after you've read this book, and then I'll tell you mine. By doing so, I believe we can understand each other better.

Merry Christmas!

First of all... Eew. My initial thought was: The asshole must be high when he wrote this down. I felt a sudden chill, and not in a good way. I'm not the type of person who's into Hallmark/ Kodak moments. And even if I did tend to have several of those moments in recent years, I would never have imagined having one with a member of the same gender, most especially NOT my brother. To be blunt, that letter he wrote was nauseating.

Then I read the note again. It must be the alcohol, but when I read it for the second time, i couldn't help but smile. This time I felt another chill, but in a good way. I suddenly felt sentimental. I still think the book he gave is a piece of crap, but I realize that he meant well. I can't deny all that sincerity. I guess he does know me, at least more than the average person. I guess all this time he was a silent observer, seeing through my smiling facade, knowing that I'm not fine even when I say I am, even when I don't tell him anything. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that my life isn't exactly fine and dandy right now. If some of the people I work with can see it, did I honestly think that a person I lived with couldn't? And yeah, no matter how cheesy it sounds, I guess he does care. And I guess, like me, he also sometimes wonders why couldn't we be as close as some of the brothers we know out there.

It's never to late to start. No time like the present.