I found myself sitting on a stool, chatting a good 2 hours
of my morning with Kuya Bong, the mananahi altering my newly bought pair of
jeans (plug ko lang yung place niya, fit fetish in connecticut st. in greenhills. He makes my
jeans look so brand new and unaltered even if he takes like a good length off
it kasi I’m just too small for the jeans I buy), and enjoying his stories about
his kids and wife. I was actually on my way to the gym and thought of
dropping my jeans off, but ended up making chika and skipping gym altogether. I
am so hopelessly a chikadora. But may I just emphasize the point that it wasn’t
for the discount that he gave me (though i get discounts just by doing chika
with him and Ate Len), but more like i missed the simple stories of life that
can only be told by simple people living simply. I think I might have had too
much of the good life I’m trying to get back that I have overlooked these
simplicities that I truly think I enjoy far more.

     I felt that it was a start of a good weekend for me. No
amount of mall bombing could probably dampen my spirits as I have sworn to make
my weekend a happy one. Weekends always perk my spirit up – I get to see my
friends, and most importantly, share quality time with my brother and sister
(and sleepover in her room too! Hehe). It is what I love to do so much – kill
time over lunch, coffee, and spill some more stories over dinner, until I’m too
tired from laughing and feeling good. Then I come home with a smile that
reaches my soul – the perfect way to end my week, and forget the tiniest
reasons that made me cry.

 A good musing, over a long hot bath, after a night out with
friends, had made me realize the difference of my world over theirs. Asked
about my idea of fun, I would probably say that fun would be to share stories/experiences
over meals – very high school-ish when you look at it, but the depth of the
relationship of souls shared would probably surpass even the strongest kick
that a good alcohol could provide. I must admit, I had probably lived a life so
reclusive that I don’t even know how a bar looks like, or cigarette or an
alcohol taste like, but where people excel in their ideas of fun, I can proudly
say that I have lived the life of people from different spectrum of our
society. And such is truly a life lived, and fulfilled, in my definition at
least.

 Sometimes, I wonder if the mighty being made a mistake when
he gave me a comfortable life that I find very difficult to live. It is just
the greatest irony of life. As much as I want to party on a weekend, I end up
enjoying chatting the night away with friends. As much as I want to do mindless
shopping, I find myself looking for a café to read or, again, chat with
friends. Finding connections with different souls feeds mine. And this probably
keeps me surviving, despite all the idealism in life that I fight so hard to
believe in. 

     My mind has been restless of late – probably from lack of
mind stimulation only medicine can bring. My hands are so perfectly clean, that
I find myself missing the days when I panic after finding the ER faucet
waterless (and with my hands bloodsoaked). But my spirit has never felt peace
the way it is refilling itself with weekend after weekend of feel good
experiences only friends and family, or even ordinary people such as Ate pearl,
my good friend nurse from Ohio, or Kuya Bong, the mananahi, could bring. I have
seen how life could be grim and fierce when it tries to exact on people not
even deserving, and I have realized that life has always been gentle on me,
despite all the restrictions, health or otherwise, it imposes. Cliché as it may
sound, I have come to truly appreciate this greatest irony of my life.

     If asked, once again, what is my idea of fun? Fun probably
for me would not be as exhilarating as a bungy jump over Kawaru in Queenstown NZ,
or a smoke of a good Cuban cigar. Fun, as I would repeat it is enjoying my life
experiences (and stupidities) and living to share it with people interested in
listening. Everyday is a life lived, and a lesson learned.

 Kyla, dearest, this blog is for you. I enjoyed our weekend
together. I love you so so much. Thank you for all your chika. My blockmates, promise get together ulit tayo soon. Ako mag organize ha?