"The rhythm of the weekend, with its birth, its planned gaieties, and its announced end, followed the rhythm of life and was a substitute for it." -Fitzgerald, F. Scott
Wow that line was so moving, it moved me like a man moves a woman. I almost shed a tear, fortunately I was able to muster the essence of machismo in my body down to the last drop or else I would've wept like a sissy girl. I am not a sissy girl, I'm a man -- a macho man!
Weekends are my consolation. It's a transient sanctuary from my sordid existence as a consequence of work. I dont hate my work, it's my source of doe. With it, I am able to maintain my baller lifestyle, I get to pimp my ride bit by bit, I am able to buy bling-bling stuff and cool rags, and I get to wax some hoes. Hahaaaay(Sigh in bisaya)! Its the perfunctory mundaneness of it that kicks me in the generative glands area(nuts), hence I turn red and can't breathe. SO I eat... and weep. But I'm not a sissy girl! Anyway, weekend is my time to breathe. I'm kinda like a diver-like person, who's been diving underwater for like 5 days straight without any SCUBA (self-contained underwater breathing apparatus) and weekend is my chance to surface for air and see the beauty of the world: sky, clouds, cute little birds, STARVUXZ, trees, flowers, warm air entering my nostrils, bikini babes, Havaianas, and the likes... And feel. Then I dive back into the murky water for 5 days, again.
I had such a wonderful surfacing last weekend. Last saturday I was able to work out during our pre-sportsfest badminton practice. It was a great feeling to be able to sweat and move a lot. Although it was very evident that my athletic prowess was not the same as before, I still had fun. We played from 8 to 11 it was a badminton buffet, play all you can. Then on sunday a knock on the door woke me up. I wonder what it was gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -Only this, and nothing more. But the knocking didn't cease, "who could this be at this time of day?", I said to myself.
"I don't know. Let's go check it out," my self replied.
"Ok let's check it out, my precious," I answered back with a grin.
I opened the door, it was Hazel. She was a bit early today(9:30AM), usually she arrives at 11:00AM when she visits me on a sunday. I asked her why, she said she just missed me -- her eyes said the same. She grows ever so beautiful everytime I see her. We hugged for about a couple minutes.
As usual we went on an unplanned date. In the jeepney we decided to go to Sto. Nino to attend mass. After the mass we went to our favorite department store near Sto. Nino, I dont know its name but it's kinda like a surplus store where everything is cheap. They sell pirated i pods for only Php500. The resemblance was uncanny. You could fool someone into thinking it was a real i pod if you were jogging or something like that. I did not buy one coz I'm cool, I am not into jologs stuff. They even sell pirated Havaianas. I was so insulted, how dare they mock our beloved tsinelas. I could not make myself look at it long enough, hence I did not catch the name. Maybe it was one of those homonymns to fool uninitiated consumers, like: Javaianas, J instead of H, or maybe Havayanas, Y instead of I. It made me so sick to the bone marrow. It was blasphemy. I was really blogging mad. If I find those responsible for this atrocious act I'll say to there faces, " Blog you! You mother-bloggers! " Bang! Bang! Bang! Bullet to the head.
After battling our way through the crowd we finally got out. I bought a study lamp, and christmas lights all for Php75. Hazel bought a ceiling fan for only Php54 . What an Offa! Then we decided to head back home. On the way home Hazel smiled at me playfully, she wanted to go videoke so we went to the Country Mall, the store where everything is. Hazel loved it when I was singing Feelings, then she sang The Power of Love... Sometimes I'm frightened but I'm ready to learn of the Power of Love... Orezzz tanan!
Finally we got tired of singing our hearts out. We ate then we went back to my boarding house. I was really excited because of my new christmas lights. I plugged it in the outlet, it worked. Then we started to argue. I wanted to place the lights arround my bed so it would look cool. It would be a christmas bed--a pimped bed. It would be blinking while I sleep. But she wanted to place it on the wall in a shape of a christmas tree. How clichic. What a stereotypical notion of christmas. So, I gave in, besides her idea made more sense. So we were taping it on the wall, here a tape, there a tape everywhere a tape tape. Oh my Gosh! Its more difficult than I thought. Halfway through our endeavour, "Little Christmas Tree" by Jose Mari Chan came on the radio. Have you ever imagined that your life had a background music suited for your current temperament, and you sing that song in your head? J.M. Chan's song was perfect for the moment Hazel and I were in. We sang along while we finished our christmas tree. I felt like I was in a movie--a Christmas Romantic Comedy.
We sat there, holding hands, marvelling at our masterpiece. We were so proud of our creation, athough it was no better than a grade schooler's work, because it was created with the grace of love, plus we had a theme song. I have never seen any christmas light blink so happily. It was the best christmas light show I have ever seen--Christmas is in the air.
Even at my age I still believe in the magic of christmas and it is amplified and catalyzed because I'm in love. This is the same feeling when I was a child, when everything was so grand and marvelous, even the simple was amazing and wonderful. That simple christmas light showed me a truth I have long forgotten--to find beauty in simplicity. I guess Christmas teaches us to be children once again: to love sincerely, to be happy, and to feel, no matter how fleeting. At that moment, I was a kid again! "Silent Night" was playing on the radio by now. Thank you Ghost of Christmas Past.