Detour

I wrote this last March 30, 2010

http://www.flickr.com/photos/76761958@N00/32236938

I have proven that unplanned road trips make the happiest moments. Although I am an advocate of careful planning (as I was branded as OC), I think a detour once in a while won’t hurt.

I remember few months ago when all of us in the office were about to go home. It was Saturday afternoon, and everyone has shut down the computers. One of us said she’ll go to the mall; the other one immediately said, “I’ll go with you.” The third one said, “Me too!” The fourth one (that’s me), all of a sudden, just said “I’ll go as well.” It was surprising for me and for them too, as I am not the type who would go out unplanned. But then I thought: I would only spend time sleeping when I get back to the house, so why not spend the rest of the day with officemates-cum-friends instead?

The detour that Saturday afternoon was worth it – it was the time to unwind for all of us. We did not talk about work - we did not talk about what’s going to happen on Monday, which most of the things we wrote on our weekly planning schedule won’t happen, or who’s the latest people who have violated our kindness. Instead, we talked about ourselves – okay, I actually got most of the interesting questions – the real us outside work. It has solidified our friendship; it was something that even our 201 files can’t keep.

Last Saturday, I again experienced another detour. This time, I joined the ride with one of my male friends, who generously drove three of the nicest young girls to a nearby mall (they are student assistants in the school where I used to work). When one of the girls asked my male friend if we could go to their house, he simply just said, “Sure,” and changed directions.

Although my friend added that we could not enter his house for “the keys are with my brother,” I knew he was trying to pull out a fantastic prank against the three. But I was not able to give him the ‘what-are-you-up-to’ stare, as I might spoil the fun. All of a sudden, he drove the car straight to the gate of a plush suburb (he doesn’t live there). Just imagine the ‘what-you-live-here-I-didn’t-know’ reaction of the girls.

What seemed to be a prank house visit turned out to be a simple yet funny road trip, with stopovers to take pictures and sight-seeing the best houses. It was as if we have all the afternoon to ourselves. It’s as there were no worries and other concerns on our minds.

Such detours helped me learn a few things on how to appreciate life. Ever since, I have been trying to plan my days as I wanted them to be. I get frustrated if I don’t get what I wanted or get to do what I needed to do, because I know that even small changes will mean big changes. But in fact, sometimes, all I have to do is to “count every moment.”

It also made me realize that I need to stop and think about others – how could I make the best of times with them. It helps me rediscover again and again that I don’t need to do something grand for others – “quality time” is enough.

Finally, it made me realize that I may have fears, worries, even setbacks – but I am not alone in the journey. Detours have shown me the generosity and sympathy of friends. Detours helped me go back to the basics – life is simple. It is okay to live life with simple joys.

A detour may be an alternative route that we sometimes take, but I think they are necessary deviations of our journey. We need detours to somehow find ourselves back on the road.

Jolly Treat

I wrote this last February 22, 2010

I consider myself as a Jollibee Kid. Blame my parents for enrolling me in the Jollibee Kiddie Club, which was the result of constant visits to the fast food chain. It was like I was bound to eat Jollibee only every time we went out. As a kid, I wasn’t bothered about it. The minute I enter Jollibee branch, I immediately envision myself already sitting in one of its chains, with my spaghetti in front in my area of the table (Jollibee really had something to do with my love affair with my comfort food).

Though I was a Jolly Kid (a Kiddie Club member), I never got to spend a Jolly Birthday Party. We tried inquiring once for my eighth birthday, but my parents thought that it’s still best to celebrate in the house. It was okay with me; my vision of Jollibee eat-outs was enough. It was still a treat for a kid.

Later on, I learned to go out and eat with friends. I learned to go and eat in other fast-food chains, and after that, fancy restaurants. Sure they were fun, but the Jolly memories were always with me.

It is cool to get invited in kids’ Jolly Birthday Parties. Now that I’m older, I now have a different perspective with kids’ birthdays. It’s fun, of course. It is fun to see kids participate in the games. It’s funny to see shy kids who never removed their grasps from the pants of their mom and dads. It puts a smile to my face to see them eat their food and laugh at Jollibee’s antics. It was fun to be a kid.

It was a Jolly treat.


http://www.flickr.com/photos/16071304@N00/3078531589



Missing You - Not

http://www.flickr.com/photos/33345813@N00/1385100375

wrote this last July 21, 2010.

I heard a familiar song one day. I have known this song since I was a kid – I even remember singing it using our new karaoke. I remembered singing at my heart’s delight, even though I don’t have any idea what the song meant.

Years after, I heard it again. This time, I knew the meaning. Well, sort of. Part of its chorus goes like this:
   
        I miss you like crazy
        Ever since you went away
        Every hour of everyday
        I miss you like crazy
        No matter what they say or do
        There’ just no getting over you

I got scared after I heard the song. Because for the first time after the hurting, it dawned on me that you don’t matter to me anymore. This time, it’s true.

But why did I get scared? I am afraid to see you – your face, your smile, even your shadow.

I’m afraid to hear your voice – the way you say “hello”; even the way you say your mind and your laugh.

I’m scared to realize that you still exist.

Whatever I felt for you before is gone. I don’t want to feel whatever I felt before again, and then realize that I’m still going to miss you when you’re gone.

To tell you honestly, I miss you – not.

On Dream Boards and My Search for the Perfect Laptop... or Notebook ('Cause I Hate Excess Baggage)

wrote this last March 15, 2010.

Even though a friend discouraged me many times those laptops are not really good investment (and he has the authority to say that because he is a licensed IT practitioner), I still wanted one. First reason: my old reliable computer needs to retire after serving me and the rest of the family for ten years. Second: possible business opportunities (but it doesn’t mean I’ll bring work at home).

But there was a problem: I simply couldn’t afford to buy one. Before going to a computer shop to feast my eyes on them, I would need to buy more important purchases (like the ever reliable Bench Alcogel that I have started to keep in my bag since the A H1N1 madness). So I promised myself that I would save to the hilt. But then, I just can’t buy. So somehow, I gave up wishing and hoping that I would have one.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/49512158@N00/3699040930

But despite the resigned feeling, I placed a picture of a laptop in my dream board. I wrote beside the picture: “I will have a laptop. It will help me communicate with my friends and create other sources of income.” With a prayer, I stared at it, just like the other things that I posted. I may not afford it now, but someday, I might.

Last month, my mother told me that she’ll join her high school reunion. One of her classmate-friends, who is my godmother, would also be joining. My godmother is now living in Sydney, Australia. Since I haven’t really met her ever since, I decided to write her a letter. When I was about to wrap up the letter, I just thought of kidding her of giving me a gift (even if my birthday falls on May). There’s nothing wrong in trying, I thought, so why not try it?

And so with courage, I wrote on the stationery paper: “Before I end, may I ask for a gift on my birthday? I’d like to have a notebook. It’s a small laptop. I’d like to start an online business with my brother and it will surely make us more connected to you.” With that, I prayed, signed the letter, folded it, and coursed it through my mother. I forgot about it after.

When my mother came back from her reunion, she happily said, “Your godmother was pleased about your letter. I don’t know what you wrote to her, but it seems there is a positive response. Contact her immediately; she might leave for Sydney tomorrow.”

I contacted her as instructed (through SMS and e-mail). She replied after three days to my e-mail: “Start looking for your notebook. How would you like the payment to be sent?”

I then remembered the laptop picture in my dream board. I caught myself staring at it for a long time. It felt unthinkable: are you about to be real?

A week later, I got an SMS from my godmother: “How’s your notebook search? What’s the easier way for you: bank account deposit or door-to-door delivery?” Okay, I told the laptop picture in my dream board. You are really just about to pop out of my board, literally!

I just felt so blessed. Finally, one of the things that I thought I will never have, it is going to come true!

But as the good news sank in, I know that the challenge has just begun. I’m not just talking about searching for the perfect laptop, or notebook. I know that just like my old reliable personal computer, I will have to be responsible in taking care of the new notebook. But more than that, I should be able to use it on what I intended it to be – an instrument for reconnecting to people that I love and for earning passive income. That I really need to focus on.

It’s not because I will not be true to the words that I promised my godmother. Maybe I’m just scared because I know that if I still don’t put my acts together even after the notebook’s arrival, then I’ll blow my chances of a new life. If I don’t do well – if I fail – in this unchartered territory due to fear and complacency, then I’m really a wacko.

For now, I’m just waiting for my godmother to send her promised gift. The search is already on for the perfect laptop, or notebook (I have even asked the help of my other friend to help me on my search). Soon, my search for the perfect notebook will end.

But my search for a new life has just begun.