Phillip Retuta's Blog

The Life and Times of a Filipino-American

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Thoughts on Dying, Death, and the Leftovers.

Taken in 2008, during a ghost tour in Chicago’s Mt. Carmel Cemetery.

Let me preface this post: I have no intention of dying anytime soon, so don’t worry about me, my physical health, or my state of mind.

I was lying in bed the other day, and I realized that if I were to ever die in my sleep, the medical examiner or coroner would be able to pinpoint the exact time of my death. I wear my Apple Watch to bed every night in order to track my sleep, and the app I use monitors my heartbeat or if I’m wearing my watch at all. I assume that if my heart stopped and I died during my sleep (the best way to go, in my opinion), my watch and the sleep app would record the exact minute I passed on. All the data would then be transferred to my iPhone. Good luck, though, trying to figure out my watch or phone’s passcodes.

I know it’s morbid to think about death, but the thought of it has always been in the back of my mind — especially with my family and friends. Those thoughts are only exasperated at the fact that I lost two good friends in the past 6 months. I worry and dread the day either of my parents pass, and I fear I won’t be able to handle it. My dad just turned 76 and has surpassed my grandfather’s age when he died, so I have slight anxiety about inevitably when it comes to my loved ones. We all know it’s coming for everybody eventually, but are we emotionally and mentally prepared for it?

Me, on the other hand? I think I accept myself dying at anytime. It’s entirely possible I could die tomorrow or next year or 60 years from now. I’m a fairly unhealthy individual (hell, I’m trying to be otherwise), but maybe I’ll be one of those centenarians who’ll tell his great grandchildren the horrors of 2020, of Trump, of 9/11, of AOL, and of how Taco Bell removed potatoes from their menu. It’s hypocritical to worry about others dying but not worrying about the death of oneself, and I know my loved ones want me to live as long as possible. I admit, it’s selfish to hold onto others but have a certain degree of apathy towards oneself.

Regardless, I feel like I should make a living will. I’m not rich enough yet to have my own lawyer or create a will on Legal Zoom, so I’ll state my intentions here. This may not be official official, but here’s where I want everything to stand, and how I want to divide my pitiful estate. Who knows, I could get married and have kids, and this could all change.

In the event of unseen circumstances, this is the will of Phillip Nievera Retuta (well, as it stands like right now):

  • I do have life insurance from work, and currently my brother is the first benefactor, and then my dad.
  • I’d want Dusty and Nico’s ashes/paw print and collar given to my parents. They’ll love Dusty as much as I do and would want Nico’s remains.
  • Electronics, computer equipment, and design/camera/media equipment given to my brother. He’ll need it and want it.
  • Fish given to my fish enthusiast friend Gino. He’s the most capable of taking care of my aquarium.
  • Plants to be split up between Morgan, Vi, and Monica. They’re good with plants.
  • Vinyl records can be split between friends.
  • Mark can have my sourdough starter.
  • Cooking equipment given to my mom.
  • Books to be split up by anyone — first come, first serve.
  • Any nice clothes can be split up by anyone — first come, first serve.
  • Dog toys to be split up between Dusty and the rest of the dogs.

I suppose that covers most of my earthly belongings in the unforseen event of my death — but god knows if I’ll buy a car or house next week, win the lottery tomorrow, or suddenly adopt a dozen kittens. It made me realize that when I do make an official last will and testament, this post might cause some conflict: if I die at 107, I don’t want my friends feuding over my LCD Soundsystem records or my copy of David Sedaris’ Me Talk Pretty One Day. Ah well.

Should I end this with a signature to make it more formal?

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Old Wives’ Tales: Wet Hair Horrors.

I searched “wet” in my Flickr library. Here’s a photo I took in 2008, in my hometown in Illinois.

I just finished taking a shower a few minutes ago and am writing this as I’m about to go to bed. My hair is still wet, and as I’m lying on my pillow, I can’t help but recall the stories my parents had warned me about when I was a kid: if you sleep with wet hair, you’ll go blind.

I don’t know the scientific facts regarding wet hair and the total loss of vision. Maybe some unwashed shampoo will somehow seep into your pillow and blind you in your sleep. Perhaps excess moisture will puff up your face so much, your eyelids swell shut. In any event, as someone whose life centers around visual acuity, losing my sight would mightily suck. Water is water, and unless you’re drowning in it, I find it relatively harmless.

Another old wives’ tale my parents would tell me is that if you go out with wet hair, in the middle of winter, you’ll get pneumonia. During this COVID crisis, that would be catastrophic. Who needs to suffer from a debilitating lung infection? My habits will take of that, thank you. Luckily, however, I’m not going out that much these days — if at all. Still, when we were able to step out of the house without fear, I can’t help but count the numerous times I’d shower and then immediately rush to work. Winter, summer — it didn’t matter. And come to think of it, I haven’t really been sick at all these past few years.

Maybe it’s me, but I don’t make an effort to dry my hair after a shower; I don’t blown dry it, and I rarely put any product. A simple scrub through a towel is all I need, and I’m ready to go about my day (or in tonight’s case, go to bed). I’m a pretty low-maintenance guy when it comes to looks, but perhaps this is one of the many fucking reasons I’m still single.

No, as far as I can tell, wet hair won’t kill or maim you. I suppose just be careful around low-hanging ceiling lamps without lightbulbs…

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April Podcast Roundup.

Since the lockdown, I’ve entertained myself with podcasts. Often, when I was at work or if I’m cleaning on the weekends, I’d pop open a podcast and multitask. Something about listening to some stories and executing chores makes me feel like I’m spending my time well. Also, considering our respective situations, sometimes we need a good laugh in times of shitshows.

Here’s what I’ve been to:

The Neighborhood Listen | Listen via Stitcher for Podcasts

The Neighborhood Listen
Listen on Stitcher Premium (there’s a paywall)
Hosted by Broadway star Nicole Parker and one of my favorite comedians, Paul F. Tompkins (with support by Man Man’s/Earwolf’s sound engineer, Brett Morris), it’s a parody of the Nextdoor app that uses actual posts for improv material. There’s nothing more enjoyable than Tompkins’ laugh when he breaks character, and this podcast even made me download the Nextdoor app for my neighborhood (which, in my opinion, is pretty much filled with awful NIMBY’s).

A Funny Feeling
Listen of Headum
Everyone knows I love paranormal shit, so when I discovered this podcast by improv comedian Betsy Sodaro and Brooklyn 99 writer Marcy Jarreau, I was able to combine my fascination for the spooky and my appreciation for comedy. I always enjoy a good ghost story or documentary, but when you add the wit and wonderfully raspy voice of Sodaro, you get one of my favorite podcasts ever.

Two Old Queens
Listen on Spotify
Comedians John Flynn and Mark Rennie search for the gayest movie of all time. I love the premise: they review a movie and interview a guest, and the three of them score the movie based off categories from previous guests (ie, “How much broken glass?” or “Over the top entrances”). I think Muppets in Manhattan is up there with the category, “How Much Felt?”

Stay F. Homekins
Listen on Spotify
Can’t you tell I love Paul F. Tompkins? This podcast started when the lockdowns started, and he and his wife Janie Haddad Tompkins just give weekly updates on their lives. It’s your usual take on being quarantined, except that you’re also comedians and in the entertainment business in LA. Their chemistry as a couple is charming, and they share humorous stories about their weeks and small tidbits about their pasts. If you want to know more details about some of my favorite comedians’ lives, it’s worth giving this podcast a listen.

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California Dreamin’

I’ll admit that the stress of work (and maybe life, in general) has led to some bad sleeping habits: I spend a lot of my nights worrying and getting only 4 to 5 hours of sleep. As a result, I can’t even recall the last time I had any sort of dream. Luckily, however, I’ve been on vacation and spending time in California with my family; I’ve been able get some proper reprieve from any and all responsibilities and having a full night’s sleep for the past week and a half. With my mind at rest, I’ve finally been able to dream again. Here’s what I’ve vividly remember:

  • Consultants completely took over the office and took each of us on one-on-one meetings. They complimented my work, and with a smile on their faces, I got laid off.
  • I became a substitute drummer for the indie artist, Phosphorescent. I don’t even know how to play drums.
  • I was a production assistant for the cooking magazine, Bon Appetit. They were filming videos for their YouTube channel, and I was tasked of running errands around their test kitchen.
  • I was approached by a refugee from the Middle East, and I helped him and his family find a home in the US.
  • I was on the subway, sitting next to a bookish office worker wearing glasses and a polo shirt. A zombie attack soon broke out in the next car over (the horde looked like bad, 90’s-Resident Evil CGI), and they were trying to enter the door to our car. I reassured the guy that it’ll be okay, and I recommended that his pen would be an adequate weapon to ward off the approaching zombie onslaught.
  • I caught a shiny Kabuto Pokemon in Pokemon Go.
  • I was watching a television show on veterinary students in the field. The chief vet doctor (do those exist?) was played by Brian Cox.
  • I was attending one of those high school pep rallies held inside an auditorium. For some reason, this high school pep rally also sat a bunch of classmates from grad school. There was a circus performance, fire breathers, and a hypnotist who’d bring participants on stage. The hypnotist needed more people, so the school administrators randomly selected me. I couldn’t recall if I was acting or was actually in a trance, but I fell asleep. The hypnotist whispered to me to play along and literally grabbed my limp body by the neck to put me on stage.

So, what kind of messed up dream logic is this?

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Nauthiz.

A post shared by Phillip Retuta (@retuta) on

“Nauthiz is a sudden demand which overwhelms one’s stores and savings. Nauthiz indicates a time to retrain, relearn and plan effectively in order to get what is wanted from a particular situation. Nauthiz is a rune of ‘wanting’, and it is generally a negative rune since it describes a ‘lack’ of something.”

The rune cannot be reversed.