Random Realizations # 3 (Which Aren't Quite Realizations After All)

Some five years ago, my sister told me something I could never forget.

My family had just gone out from Sunday Mass at Bene, and were just waiting for my dad to bring the car around so we could head home. The sky was clear that night (as it usually was), so my siblings and I spent quite a while staring up at it (as we usually do).

The yellow crescent moon was just rising, surrounded by a plethora of stars.

"Kuya, kuya," my sister said. "Look, the moon is smiling."

* * *

I just came back from a four-day adventure in Baguio. Bitin as it was, I totally loved it. I can't wait to go back.

Once again, a thousand thank-yous to the Oposa family for their unbounded hospitality, the mouth-watering food, and the kabag-inducing laughs. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! (And 997 more.)

* * *

For the past three weeks (except when I was out of town) I have, without fail, gone to Starbucks every single day. Yes, this also means I usually head straight to the mall after work. I just can't stand being at home, you see, and for several reasons - boredom being the foremost one.

What exactly do I do in such a burgis coffee shop, you may ask. Well, I sometimes order a cup of peppermint tea (the cheapest decent drink available); other times I just find myself a vacant table, counting on the familiarity of being a regular customer. And then I'd spend the rest of the afternoon or evening devouring a good book, browsing through a couple of magazines, or writing (some stuff for this blog, and some better left unpublished). But when there aren't books to read, or no work to do, or nothing worth writing about, I just sit there for hours and watch people. And yes, I do most of this alone. Utterly alone.

I know it usually makes me look like a total loser. But damn, there's just nothing else to do. And honestly, I'm getting quite sick of it already. Same goes for watching movies alone, spending hours curled up in bed alone reading a book I've already read five times previously, and walking/driving around Ayala Alabang, Alabang Hills, or my village alone.

I want something new. Save me.

* * *

I was driving home from Arun's band's supposed gig in Malate a few nights back, and somehow managed to find myself lost in the CCP and Binondo areas of Manila. But then again, if you know me, you'd know that I actually look forward to getting lost once in a while.

Manila fascinates me. How many souls have grown up, come of age, and met their end in the past few hundred years that this city has been in existence? How many millions of people have fallen in love, kissed, had their hearts broken, gotten drunk, gotten high, gotten laid, cried, laughed, and found themselves lost (both literally and in thought) in this place we know as Old Manila? Manila has bred drunkards, poets, heroes, and millionaires, as well as millions of people who died unfulfilled without attaining any of their dreams. Tragic, really.

Personally, Manila has been host to some of the memories I treasure (and will treasure) the most. Unfortunately, like all big cities do, Manila does not remember. The flashing lights keep pulsating, the cars keep rushing by, and the throng of partygoers keeps grinding. It really is time for me to leave Manila behind now, at least for the time being.

* * *

I've been meaning to write a long entry about traveling for the longest time now, but I have never gotten around to even writing a draft in my head because I don't think I know what I want to say. That's why I'm writing this part of this entry off the top of my head.

I have wanderlust.

I love travelling and getting lost. I love travelling alone, travelling with my family, travelling with old friends, and travelling with new ones. I don't know why.

Okay, I do. Travelling, drinking, and all the other stuff I enjoy doing - they're forms of escaping. They allow me to escape from an imperfect, un-ideal state of being. They keep my mind off things.

But every trip (both literal and metaphorical, if you get my drift) has to end. I have to wake up at home in a stifling environment, in a course I loathe, not knowing what I want to do. So there.

Malabo, I know.

* * *

The moon is smiling tonight.