“The day I was born I was born free and that is my Privilege.”


This is “charvaluks,” wala lang, quoting Angel.
September 12, 2009, 7:51 am
Filed under: Tabloid

On Tuesday, I will be a year older. It’s kind of depressing knowing that you’re getting older and here again Impatience questioning me what, so far, happened to my life.   Any future plans? Having relayed that thought to a friend, she lessoned me to immediately get rid of it and to always think that the small things I have had done should amount to something bigger than what I expected. And, come on, I am still alive, meaning blessed that I have a chance still to fulfill my dreams, whatever those are.
Okay. Enough. Jolly Jel, come out now!

So let’s talk about what happened so far on the last Saturday of my 23rd year. And I warn those who are generous enough to waste their precious time reading what I must write here that this could be as boring as you can get, and I don’t mind talking about it here.

I ate the last serving of chicken curry for brunch. I have been eating it since the night before the last. My mom cooked it for us, which she so often does, I mean, cook, but this time she defied her daily menu and tried to cook an almost foreign dish to her. So it’s me showing too much appreciation to my mother’s  effort of cooking my favorite chicken curry.

The dessert is nothing close to sweet, though.  My mother told me a devastating story of a neighbor pouring hot water on them cats causing a ruckus on their roof, disturbing their silence, and of another neighbor taking advantage of my brother’s generosity.  The latter act, most often that not,  is always experienced by my family, and I intend not to boast.

Two friends accompany me in text today.  One tells his story of him being a godfather to his second godchild. His last text narrates of him being happy having a picture holding the cute baby in his arms when shortly before that he thought that he could not have a panoramic moment with his godchild as the child is happily asleep.

This reminds me of the niece, still a baby, of my friend.  She lightened up the room where her late grandmother was being mourned by with her cute smiles and acts, alleviating grief.

Child’s innocence brings joy.  Now, I miss my nephew Cole and I can’t wait to have my picture taken with him.

And another friend of mine talks about the idea of going out today as, for a while, the rain stopped.  I encouraged her to make herself happy; said that I demand a greeting on Tuesday, that I won’t accept a late greeting even if it is just a minute late; pleaded for our joint celebration to be moved on the 11th of next month instead of the 26th; and we both ended up, in the hopes that our other friends would agree, being excited of visiting Manila Ocean Park and Makansutra, a newly opened food haven in Roxas Boulevard.

I will cook pancit for dinner. My mother is doing our laundry.  I folded my umbrella neatly.

The sky is still overcast. No portion of blue can be seen. I pray not a weather like this on the 19th. And I hope to see a beautiful sunset at the end of that day.

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