I started walking at 9 months. I have no memory of the sort for me to prove my parents claim. But they said so, better not question it. Hi up there in heaven, Dad. And I haven't stopped walking since. What's immensely thrilling were the number of times I fell. Yes, I was a wiggly-wriggly-nosey-runabout type of babe back then and I have many scars to remind me. But no, I don't blame anybody. Not even my mom who fell asleep while breastfeeding me, only to find me on the floor when she woke up. Luckily, I wasn't abducted or kidnapped. None of those bullsh*t happened. I don't even blame my sister when I fell, head first, in my aunt's drainage system. I didn't find any gold or nickel. No luck at all. Just a bad slash on the forehead. Not as cool as Harry Potter's thunder scar though. Please don't take my humor for sour sarcasm. These memories are really funny when I reminisce.
I used to think that I was one of the boys. My childhood neighbors' boy-girl ratio was, I think, approximately 7:4. So that explains it. I played "takyan" or what do we call it really? Was it "sipa"? Whatever. I'd go against 5 boys with that sort of game. And I won. Well, I'd like to think so. When they'd bully or should I say, more appropriately, TEASE me because adolescence was a b*tch and the word crush became a household phenomenon, I'd run after 'em. Yes, I run like a boy. Which came in handy when I worked for an airline. Made them question if I really was a boy trapped in a very maarte girl's body. If that's the case, my construction was undeniably impeccable. *wink wink*
What do you call those things athletes jump over during a marathon? Call me lazy. I have the internet connection but I won't bother researching. I am just amazed how speed and velocity can make you jump. Should I give credit to gravity, flexibility,strength or adrenaline? I hated physics back in college, so bite me. Here comes another quick stride on memory lane. Yes, before I was a flexi-bender, I was one of those who yearned to touch the sky. Yeah yeah, I hear ya, I look very mataray, but I'm really a wimp. Didn't had the guts to pass my papers and be a fly girl. I wished I was stronger than timid. So I worked on the ground for those who fly, flew and are flying. What made me change my mind? I'd tell you but then I'd kill you. NOT really. ;)
That introduction is a handful, I know. The only purpose of this literary ranting is to make myself feel good about this decision to take a leap again. This time, a big one. Thank you Mom for instilling in me the independence I shall ardently need. I have no idea what I ate for breakfast one morning, or what medications I took, what book I read (which I disgustingly confess, I haven't been doing lately) or what show I watched on TV, and there's absolutely no need to persecute social media... on why I'll be packing my bags, take an umbrella and do a Merry Poppins entrance to the Metro. I am a crybaby for crying out loud! I am clingy. I am the youngest. So why the f*ck will I be doing this? Simple. Not so simple. But close to non-complication, because I want to. Time to open these damn wings and soar.
I have a particularly non-stressful environment in the Tuna Capital. No traffics. No shitty weather like Winterfell. No filthy stench like King's Landing. No hassles. No bustles. I must be out of my mind. Scattered wits all over the floor, I dare not sweep and piece them back together. I'm fine. Honestly, I have a wicked smile painted on my face as I write this. Its the taste of metal when your lips bleed and lick it over with your tongue. Its that sort of satisfaction. For now, it is. I'll make a new post after a few months and see if I have broken down or toughened up. Which is which, we shall find out.
I started out late. Perhaps its the emotional attachment to the Mother Hen. or some other reason. A boy? Friends? The comfort? Fear? All of those and then some. You, dear reader, do you know that gut-wrenching feeling when you miss a step? Like your stomach falls a 50-foot drop and your heart skyrockets towards the cosmic heavens? That's how I feel. Two opposing directions pushing and pulling me on both ends. Sounds like the anatomical phenomenon of a Adho Mukha Svanasana (downward facing dog).
Yoga won't come cheap! Holy cow! Now my heart is breaking. hahaha! Oh how will I ever survive. Self practice? What if I get too lazy? Dilemmas, dilemmas.
But the city lights lure me like Icarus flying close to the sun. Everywhere I look, it's art in motion. The proper tagalog makes my ears bleed like hearing French for the first time. I'm in awe and I don't know why. It's intoxicating in the most euphoric way. And that sunset on the bay. *sigh*
Blah. Blah. Blah.
To cut this short, Hello Independence.
Please be good to me.
Until I cry myself to sleep at night.
xo
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