Saturday, October 18, 2003
Life, for the meantime, is a rainy day. It shifts like the clouds, dark one moment, gentle the next. On some given instances—when the rain stops, for example, and there is only the ample cool that hides the sun, kisses the skin, calls for warmer clothes, and makes the grass greener than usual—I adore it. This is my type of day, since I really have no uses for sun. Autumn is the life, and for a moment, it makes me forget this is tropical country. But then the rain intrudes again. I have just managed to escape the bed and its prolonged invitations for sleep. It was already way past noon and the antibiotics I am taking was making me hungry for the nth time since late last night. I hate antibiotics. There are no clear-cut schedules to govern what to do on a Saturday, so I have been following my feet. M. follows me around like a sweet puppy, which I like. How fast we get used to sleeping touching somebody else’s skin! How long has it been since we got together? More than a month, and although we have our moments of the cutest rancor, I’m convinced I am in love, and him with me. Sometimes, I catch myself staring into his beautiful face, and I wonder, what did I do to deserve this? We met when I lectured on feature writing in his school—and within two weeks, we were texting each other like mad. Love happens that way, I guess: like a bus that runs you down from nowhere, when you least expect it. This weather gets him down, however, and I can’t help not smiling for a while. I want to be Clown for him, and he pretends to smile JUST to make me smile, which is sweet—but… Then again it was also the sadness in his eyes I fell in love with. I love people with sad eyes. They look at you with such yearning…. Here I am in Scooby’s, wanting to write something, an email, whatever. In his seat, M. marks time watching his cellphone. He plays bowling or sky-diving, and he smiles just a bit sometimes. It should be sad. His yellow shirt is sad. The computer is not helping, either. I’m assigned to PC #28, which used to be my favorite PC, but somebody has tampered with its monitor settings and the color are awash in strange hues, and all the desktop elements have become these giants. Icons the size of a dwarf’s head. There is no other computer for me to use. It’s the semestral break, and the place has been hijacked by young people with knowing to do for a rainy day except chat, play games, email, surf, flirt online with fat videofreaks, blog, or get stoned on friendster.com…. New computer. PC #34. What am I doing here? Except for M., somehow I feel my life’s a bit empty. Coffee doesn’t even help anymore. Something’s missing. YET: I have a good job (although I could use a raise), great opportunities, considerable writing recognition (I was just nominated for a Catholic Mass Media Award, got chosen for the NCCA’s UBOD New Writers Series, won two Palancas, got my first book nominated for a National Book Award…), great friends, great family, great love, great sex.... BUT. There is one big but in my life. I just don’t know what it is.
Please, anybody, give me a clue on what's going on.
[0] This is Where You Bite the Sandwich
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