Stand By Me

The End

Like all things, this, too, must end.

So 'tis the end of The Age of Bum-ism. In 2 weeks I will be back in the work force, a slave to a corporate master. Working for money. Living for the weekends.

I take solace in the knowledge that this is just for now.

This is a means to an end.

This, too, shall then pass.

New Antics in Old Age

Alright, well, maybe not so old.

Last night I went out on my pre-Valentine's date with the girls. It was the usual dinner-coffee outing that we were used to. Bang picked out this little Persian resto, and we capped it off with dessert (which Baric bought!) and coffee at the next-door Starbucks.

We had a lot of fun catching up on with each other's lives, and ended the night at midnight, a la Cinderella!

Then the excitement begins.

We got Bang into a cab. And then Baric. While me and Balok hopped into Zezy to drive on home. Somewhere between Shaw and Pioneer, we received a call from Bang saying she had to get out of the cab because the driver said he was picking up three other passengers. WTF!!!!! right?

I slowed down big time, ready to turn around and pick her up myself. But she said she was fine, at a local MiniStop, waiting for her partner to pick her up.

So that drama was over. Then it was Balok's turn. She forgot to bring her house keys and had to depend on her kids to open the door for her when she got home. So much for that; the kids were all fast asleep. We spent a few minutes banging on her front gate until she had to pee -- real bad. We drove on to my house for a pee break, then went back to her house, armed with a MonoBloc chair for leverage -- to climb over the gate. Alas, all the yoga we have been doing has not yet given her enough upper body strength to get her over. I had to back the car up real close tot he gate so she can step on the roof and haul herself over.

God! The trikes must have thought we were akyat bahay or something. *Sigh* we never get too old for comedy!

Drinking My Feelings Again

Last night I went out with old friends. After being away from the Manila party scene for more than 2 years, I was ready to get sloshed. And get sloshed I did.

People drink for a variety of reasons. Most of the time, people drink to drown their sadness, to wallow in self pity, to wade in depression. The rest drink to get high on good times and good company. Lat night I drank for all these reasons and more.

I missed these friends that I have not seen in a long time. So we celebrated our reunion. I was already giddy with excitement from seeing familiar faces before we even started ordering drinks. I was on my way to being high. I met new friends who were funny, entertaining, nice, and naughty -- the perfect atmosphere for an all-nighter.

Even in the midst of all this merriment a part of me was 6,500 miles away. I was missing BBTB, a.k.a., Honey Bear. So while I was drinking happy feelings I was also trying to get woozy enough to forget that deep inside I was wishing that it was him I was dancing with. That we could be one of those couples at the bar, talking and drinking and laughing together.

Whichever feeling won out in the end, I do not remember. What I remember is that we started with cheesecake at 11pm and ended with a breakfast of tapsilog at 6am the following morning. I remember that I drank a lot, laughed a lot and danced a little. I remember lining up outside a superclub, getting my name crossed off the guest list, but not getting in. I remember helping jump start a friend's car. I remember great memories with great friends.

@ Fiama with the Demigod, and new friends

It's Official

Today I made it official.

My status on Facebook reads: In a relationship with...BBTB

I have just told the whole (Facebook) world that we are a couple.

Gosh! I hope I don't start posting a "couples" photo on my profile, which I so hated when other people did it before.

Today I made it official.

The Lost Art of Writing Love Letters

I realized how precious it is to write love letters today when I had to drive 50 miles to get to the only post office that will send my letter via regular post.

There used to be mailing stations where the internet cafes are now. Emails have taken over the art of correspondence, a.k.a, snail mail. Everything needs to be sent in a rush nowadays. Whatever mailing stations are left offer either a next-day delivery or a 3-day express. Both of which will cost an arm and a leg. What a scam!

There is a certain kind of romance in sending love letters. Somehow the emotions you convey are more sincere. The thoughts you put in writing have more substance. The feelings, more tangible. We should all be so lucky to receive at least one love letter in our lifetime.

Waiting Game

I hate it.

I have always been an impatient person. I hate waiting in line for anything. I hate sitting outside the doctor's office. I hate standing on the corner for the bus. I hate the last few days before a big "surprise".

I would rather not know when something is going to happen. Or if it is, at all. I think I will cope better with shock than suspense. I get anxious if I am told to wait at a certain time. I get disappointed if there are any delays. I get raving mad if "IT" doesn't happen altogether.

I see no reason why someone would put someone else in such a state. Why ask another person to wait? What if what was promised never comes to fruition? What then? Can you go back to that other person and say, "Oh, sorry to keep your hopes up/make you worry/scare you. Never mind, it's not happening. You can stop waiting now."

Making someone wait is cruel. There should be no promises, no guarantees; under-promise, over-deliver! There should be no disappointments, no hurt, no hate. No waiting anymore. And no more games.