ODE TO THE WAS

Weekends.
No phone call? That's odd.
No shipment? That sucks.

Monday.
How EDSA ate my week.
Traffic. Bad? Nothing new.
Staring out the window,
Billboard-watching, thinking,
"That could have looked better if..."
Pioneers to the human U-turn.
Riding that two-stroked engine,
Nothing but irritating.
But back-ride? A lowly adventure.
Roads and slopes in this familiar dwelling.
Getting off the boundary.
Big gate. Small gate.
Side mirror hits the wall.
What big trucks.
Inside, walk with care.
Silence. Darkness. Solitude.
Productivity.

Tuesday.
Repeat lines above.
Except, with friends around.
First batch, second batch.
Someone should be left behind.
Four PM. Canteen?
3-in-1 coffee. Need water.
Fountain-temperature.
Cold. Diluted.
Second-hand smoke.
Conversations.
Real conversations.

Wednesday.
Floor plan, wall paint, lighting.
Fabrics. Wood samples.
Colors, drapes, finish.
Re-order. Re-order. Re-order.

Thursday.
Order.

Friday.
PC? Greenbelt? Kapitolyo?
One rule no matter where:
Not more than one bottle.
Of soda. And of course,
Tales. Of the crypt.

Busy mornings.
Panic afternoons.
Tiresome evenings.
Still, there's life after the day.

The real, the ifs, the dreams ---
How I miss them, but then,
It is not here, not now.
It is there. And now, Was.

Three years.
Homecoming.
Real.
Soon. #

ALL I WANTED WAS A BEETLE AND A DOG

Walking sure does give people substantial amount of time to contemplate on things, especially if a lot is going on in their lives. Imagine having to enjoy the gentle breeze amidst the light sun rays hitting your hardened skin on a Saturday morning. Really priceless.

After a masochistic attempt to try rounds of suicides in a lonely, lonely basketball court this morning (not the literal "suicide" but that routine of running back and forth in increasing distances across the court to enhance agility. obviously a failed attempt for me), I decided to walk farther than my usual route around the village. In case you're wondering, I enjoy looking at nicely architectured houses and people's usual routines on a Saturday morning. Yep, I'm that shallow.

So I happened to pass by this brick-roofed little white house inspired by the American suburbs of the 90's. It has good space, enough for a simple garden and a walkway for the dogs to run around, and an underground garage good for one car. Small veranda on the right wing, not big enough for a nook but just for a good morning view. A tall window on the left and the main door at the center of the structure made it all the more just basic yet classy. I wanted to do a sketch but didn't want to look like an akyat-bahay or something. :D

I continued with the walking trip and this shiny turquoise car parked along the sidewalk caught me. It was a Volkswagen Beetle, not the latest release but the Type 1 1950's model with the famous chug-a-lug sound on the road. I stopped not because it was shiny or something, but because I thought about my old dreams. Yep, good old dreams that were apparently replaced by some Lord-knows-where-they-came-from aspirations.

During my younger years, life was pretty simple. All I wanted was to retire from a teaching stint in a little white brick-roofed house, with a yellow Volks Type 1, and a giant St. Bernard to take care of. But along the years, you get a job, go to places, meet new people, and you realize you wanted more. Now I want to get a house in the mountains aside from one in the city, and thinking of having a family of my own. And I asked myself, was that me, or just me being a product of several influences?

When I saw that Beetle, I wanted to re-assess everything. What is it that's really more important? What is it that I really want? Honestly I thought I was immune from worldly influences. But despite being a freak, I'm human after all.

Life, as they say, is simple and only humans make it complicated. As a believer in the subliminal theory (that's just a term I invented, by the way, so please don't quote me) wherein one physical thing equally stands for something abstract, I fail to understand where the simpleness of living this life is. Maybe over the years I'll understand. But for the meantime, I'd like to believe God's telling me something when He parked that turquoise runabout along the paths I would walk. #