So…now it’s seemingly like things are in place, and there’s this overall rhythm to my day-to-day: wake up; get coffee; find something to wear on these I-can’t-even-it’s-so-effin’-hot days; check blog stats and oh look someone dropped by yet again; travel to work; grab lunch; earphones on for an afternoon of my Jump Baby Jump playlist; lost for a day, night, swimming in work; tomorrow, repeat.
All these with the happy interruptions of being with my tribe.
At work, the crazy cig breaks with L, when we ponder on the meaning of newly-erected walls at our building lobby, the injustice we feel when we witness the night-to-night joy of them BGC trees, the fate of the community now Family Mart’s opened. Totes. Heavy. Stuff. And at the end of our work weeks, the delight of slushy margaritas and bittersweet mojitos, amidst more serious discussions about which bar serves the best brew while counting the days to the next payday. Heavier, indeed.
And there’re my babies. Kiks all grown, hairy legs and all, ever-dependable, always worried about his next deadline, about saving his allowance, about finding his un-busy because heck he always seems to be spending so much time in schoolwork, which is good; and G, always nonchalant, but pray tell what goes on inside that brain of hers: wispy shadows in rainbow gas masks, pixilated she-monsters dancing to vinyl records; a WIP she is, and what she always does.
Then there are the occasional surprises; those little nuggets of treasures life hands out, which allow us to savor all of its luscious rare goodnesses, much like that Cadbury Jelly Popping Candy: yes good ol’ choclit…wait for it…it’s a party in your mouth! It’s our something-to-look-forward to, our spacers and breathers, a reason to keep sane. It was the kids on summer break and them getting to spend time with me; it was My’s quiet 40th and Ciely’s GT extravaganza; it was Nalusuan and drunk swimming and jellyfish scares and yes, dear, sleeping half the time; it is the anticipation of heading home after each workday and doing the GoT marathon.
This is the life. This is my life and you can go reading through it like you cared but really it’s alright if you don’t. This is my life and this is my status quo — where everyday I nudge my feet to move the next step just so I can say hey hey I’ve accomplished somethin’ today; where I remind myself to drink my meds albeit two meals late because nobody else cares about it, really; where everyday is marked by an errand, a chore, an I-really-need-to-do-this because only me will do it for me. And if I sound like I’m flipping between them good and bad, perhaps you’re right. I am a contradiction but one which I am happily into, this now, the bouts of sheer happiness from feeling unbound amidst the bouts of morbid fear of not knowing what’s ahead.
Ah, #thisis40 gets the better of me but I try, really. So forgive me if I’ve been gadawful of late; I feel tired, ‘s all. That, my friend is part of my status quo. A status quo which isn’t on spin cycle, rather it’s a long, drawn out war, but I know soon I’ve to stop funding this party; can’t win the battle anyhow. And if I can so use it as an excuse then lemme put it this way: I’m merely taking a moment — a rather long one — to reflect on what’s next for me.
Closer. It’s all coming together now. That ain’t the humdrum of life I hear. It’s a pace, a drumroll, a lead-in. Day-to-day beats, oye, take me there.
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Pictured: My Motorino vinyl player
Finally Dee 