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Birthday bash

Last Friday, M, a co-worker of mine, and I left the office at around 9pm, went and paid our bills at Slimmers World, and decided to go out and celebrate her upcoming 24th year of existence. We went to Gilligans at Festival and were appalled by how crappy the place looked but since we were too tired and lazy to even think of going to ATC, we decided to rough it out.

We sat on a couch and were talking our way into a frenzy when she noticed that there was this man, three o'clock, who was taking pictures of us. Of me, in particular. He kept aiming his cam at us and we were motionless for a while, stay or go, we couldn't decide. The place was packed with people and we wouldn't be able to find another seat. We were expecting our drinks so we decided to stay put for awhile, glancing from time to time at the weird man with the weird mustache in the weird overalls.

So finally, after 10 minutes, our request to be relocated was granted. We specifically stated: a seat as far from masculine activity as possible. When we got there, we couldn't even really talk since the showband that performed that night had their instruments up so loud. After our few pathetic attempts to restart our previous conversation, we decided that it would be better if we called it a night. So we went home, slightly disgruntled and very tired. Our feet ached and she laughed when I said that I felt like I was really 80.

Funny how taxing it is to unwind these
days.

Once there was a way, to get back home

It says on the receipt they gave me, in exchange for my P100 bill (that I was hesitant to let go of), that I commited an infraction against a particular indecipherable ordinance written on the receipt.

I jaywalked. I don't know if there is such a word, but that's what I did. I thought it was okay, really, because there were three of us (all women. tsk, tsk.) crossing the street. The stringy policeman, who looked so much like the mangongotong in the Pugad Baboy Strips, said to the women, Hoy bawal dyan. He even laughed a little. To my surprise, he asked me to stop and chat awhile. He said:

"Hindi mo ba alam na bawal tumawid dyan?"

I was skeptical, to say the least. I really did not need to go through this conversation with a policeman who looked like he hasn't bothered to shave for a week since I only had roughly three hours sleep 'cause I went to The Outlaws' gig in Katipunan. I was a bit irritated and decided to play the dumb provinciana role I usually use to get
myself out of particular scrapes that I generally commit in the city. Inspite of all my sordid attempts to look dumb and innocent (o yes, they are two different characteristics), my plan was foibled. I decided to lay it to him straight so I told the freaky Pugad Baboy character look alike that I did not have money on me. And I said, with the cheekiest voice that I could muster at seven fucking thirty in the morning:

"E bakit yung mga babae, tumawid tapos pinalagpas niyo?"

So basically, my horrid attitude did me in. He called in a restback, a policewoman who looked like she wrestled when she was younger. He said Woman, take care of this worthless infidel, and she took me by the elbow and led me to the third floor of the Muntinlupa City Hall. I yakked all the way to the third floor and I was so aware that I was already making a nuisance of myself. I truly applaud her restraint. She talked to me calmly, guaranteeing that she would make sure that next time, all violators would go through the same process. Because I am the spawn of two loveable but extremely skeptical people, I told her outright that I did not believe her. Then she said that just because others were let go doesn't negate the fact that I violated one of their ordinances. She left me on the third floor, staring at a woman
surrounded by dilapidated chairs in an otherwise empty floor. She shoved the receipt at me and held out her hand.

I wasn't mad because I was fined for a violation that I clearly committed and I am glad that the policeman wasn't the usual mangongotong. It just felt so unfair - the way he let the other two women get off without so much as a reprimand and I was stuck with walking all that way to the friggin city hall alone.

But I paid the P100 fine. Was still mad afterwards.

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After my horrendous experience, I walked to the bus stop (ever so careful of pedestrians, this time) and my heart absolutely sank when I found out there were no air-conditioned buses. I will not feel guilty about sounding ditzy. Really, I needed a break. Since there were no buses of the sort that day (according to the conductor), I decided to board the ordinary buses. After I paid the fare, I fell asleep.

I woke up to the sound of spattering raindrops. Everyone else were closing their windows. I left mine defiantly open. I faced the window, closed my eyes, and felt the raindrops fall on my cheeks. The bus radio played The Platters' Only You. I felt like I was four again and alone in the house on a rainy afternoon. I remember holding tea parties for my books. I smile and sigh a little. Can't wait to get home.


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Overheard a woman calling her daughter 'Nil Anne'. That's the way she pronounced it, anyway. Fancy naming your daughter after nothing.

Names are wishes, Papa believed. You are a slate. Someone else's history is written on you. Eventually, when you are strong enough, you will have your own story, written on someone else's bright face.
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Antonio

So, when I arrived at the apartment, my brother's friends were there, eating lunch and laughing. Such happy boys.

I kiss my brother on his shoulder (I sadly cannot reach his face and he is not too keen on stooping) and he introduces me to his new girl. She is a slight person, has a small frame ( so like Mommy, before she had me). I think of her as shy, but perhaps she's just not accustomed to strangers. But I won't be one for long.

I am happy that Anthony has found someone. Not that there's anything outwardly awful about being alone. Actually, I would've preferred that he be by himself for awhile so that he could have time to do some thinking without some other voice clogging his questions that only he can answer. But I guess, nowadays, especially since Christmas is almost here, it will be hard for either of us to be alone.

Anthony actually takes more after Papa. Ma's stoic soldiers. My brother, so far, has had only three girlfriends. He will be turning 21 this November. Like Papa, he has
never had a roving eye but they both appreciate/d seeing beautiful women. And they were/are both very frank about it.

Anthony is not much of a charmer. But he has an earnestness in him, a sincerity that I think appeals to women.

If there's one thing I'm proud of, it's the fact that I was raised by and have grown up with such achingly faithful men.


I am happy that Anthony has emerged out of the rut that his ex left him in. I am happy that he has lived up to one of my father's most fervent hopes - that we both be undefeated by other people's shortcomings; that we never wait for anyone, no matter what the consequences would be. One can only hope for so much, after all.