So I’ve decided to permanently ditch this uninhabited piece of space right here and move to a newer and hopefully better one. Hope to bump into you there!
I can’t think of a more sickening sickness.
It’s wanting to write something but you just can’t manage to extract the right words out from your dried-up brains.
It’s feeling your eyes are tired and could use a good sleep but the same dried-up brain apparently protests.
It’s wanting to fill your page with things of consequence, but you barely have the energy and the boldness it requires to put yourself out there.
It’s wanting to want something so bad, but you don’t really know whether or not you should want it in the first place.
It’s knowing who you are, and knowing that you’re a nameless person.
So when I turned just a liiiiiittle bit short of old, I together with my steady, flew to Manila to see the second Lifehouse concert in the country. My brother who’s based there was to greet us at the airport and celebrate the rest of my birthday with us. On the eve of such day I had failed to catch for myself some decent shut-eye because I barely had time left from the last-minute light packing and sending replies to the first few greetings on Facebook and Twitter — stuff you normally do when it’s your birthday. Time apparently flew on a Nimbus Two Thousand, and morning came in quick. So up North we went, excited and full of fresh anticipation.
We got there around 8 o’clock in the morning, and rode both my and Gabriel’s first MRT ride to Cubao. Dan (my brother) still needed to shower and catch up on some hours of sleep he had earlier skipped to meet us at NAIA, so la beau and I were left to roam on our own for the rest of the morning. I’d have regretted forgetting to take pictures of our calorie-infested brunch at Wendy’s, had it been anything close to awesome or gratifying, given that Gabriel (the beau) was served the wrong Baconator (which he obligingly ate anyway, since we were both famished from the not-so-long trip). But alas, taking pictures was actually the last thing on my mind far below surviving the searing heat of the sun and the achingly long walks that we luckily endured. Albeit the reddened and burnt soles of our feet, of course. The morning stretched on and waned, and then we greeted the mid-afternoon with a deep-dish pizza lunch. Gabriel loved it. I had the obligatory birthday noodle meal for long life. He he. Still, no pictures save for a few sappy shots from the iPad (which I would obviously rather keep from public sight).
Along with forgetting to take pictures of new sights and the overall look of Araneta itself, I had also overlooked going to Cubao X where I initially planned to. We went there after the concert, but I was enormously sorry for having missed it during the day when the popular Heima was still open. Cubao X at night was an outlandish assembly of people of interestingly varied sorts. In there, it reeked of youthful curiosity, an enstranged figment of society, and a gravitating air of nonchalance. Party! would have defined it on a simpler level, but I just know such a worn-out term wouldn’t suffice.
Had I wisely thought that we did not have ample time in our hands to revisit the next day for the art shops, I could have filled this post with more worthy photos. Forgive.
As we nearly approached the eighth hour of the evening, all three of us scurried our way throughout Gateway Mall to find a spot to have a decent birthday dinner in. I was told we had to be in Araneta Coliseum at least an hour early, so I obligingly succumbed to the boys’ suggestion of a BBQ diner within the mall. It was nothing close to the birthday dinner I had imagined, but I had such a great time chatting with Dan and Gabriel that I barely even picked up the food on my plate. All our merry chatter and unrestrained laughter was just priceless.
Of course we got to the Big Dome way early. Clearly, the rushed dinner was a bad idea. We waited two hours until something interesting finally came up, and in the process I got restless and to a certain extent, I was even bummed. Consider that as an explanation to the first few succeeding photos:
At around 9:00 PM, the lights went out. Lifehouse finally appeared on the stage and the entire crowd of Araneta erupted into a frenzied fit of elation and excitement. People on the patron seats and lower boxes appeared like fluttering fireflies in different colors and sizes. To a first-timer like me, the entire experience was surreal. Of course, Lifehouse was the cherry on top. I had no idea it would feel so good to be around people who grew up to and appreciated the same music. My musical preferences surely have changed through time, but I will never forget how the band has made my whole teenager life a complete one. Shame that I’ve lost track of their songs after circa 2006, but you could just imagine my delight when they played songs from their first album.
Needless to say, it was all worth the wait. I sure do hope we had spent a little more time gallivanting around Cubao than just sit around and wait for fear of being late, but at least it wasn’t all for nothing. And what awesome experience could a cup of Mango Cheesecake Blizzard from DQ not make better?
Social media has, in many ways, become the friend we all sometimes fail to be. So instead of rolling my eyes at a whiny or an emotive tweet, I just remind myself that at least someone’s not slashing his wrists or overdosing on pills because of repressed negative energy. Emotional relief is the redeeming factor.
Save Me, San Francisco
Breakfast in Bed
Simply because it’s that time of the day, again. I figured it’s easier to wake up when somebody from nearly hundred miles away is giving you the wake-up call. In other news, I’m thinkin’ corned beef sauteed in onions, peas, and diced potatoes. Hmmm.
Dave Matthews Band
Under the Table and Dreaming
Lover Lay Down
Posted 1 year ago