Some people are made to ask for help. And that’s not bad at all. They like making decisions and doing things with the presence of others. That’s them, and that’s fine.
But you, you are the other kind.
You refrain from asking for directions when you are looking for a place. If there’s something you want to try, you want to try it alone. You can walk down the road and actually enjoy it. You dislike the thought of fearing the lonesomeness of se activities. To you, sans company is okay.
And sometimes, you feel like apologizing over it. But don’t. You’re not selfish, nor arrogant. You don’t hate people too. You just thrive on being a solo act, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
You don’t have to say sorry for wanting to get through it alone.
My favorite boxing fight to date was the Pac-Mayweather bout. Not because of the strong media attention it got, but because of the events which happened to Greenette and I before ~finally~ watching the match.
After a spontaneous trip to Batangas, and I emphasize spontaneous because this is where we had to beg a small resort to let us stay for only 500php for the night since we had no money left, Green and I left for Manila early in the morning eager to look for any place for a pay per view. By any place, I meant stepping out of the bus in Cubao to scout for a gym, a carenderia, a mall for a screen showing the fight…to no avail. We found ourselves in the lobby of a motel which promised a pay per view per room, given a two hour stay. But we were graced by the presence of too many couples, with priority numbers in their hands, staring at us with a big smile on their faces. We headed out with a little sigh.
And at last, after another walk, we finally found a space for us — the general admission of Araneta Coliseum — standing at the farthest box, amongst the company of huge gentlemen with arms like boxers themselves, yet there we were shouting and commenting louder than any of them.
We were both happy and tired but mostly happy to be able to watch the fight. We went home with disappointment on the results, but I would just mostly remember the mishaps and the triumph of scouting for that pay per view.
This post isn’t really about the boxing fight, although it sure shows how eager we were that day. This post about all the mishaps and triumphs that happen when we do things for the things that we wabt to happen. This post is also about the people who share that mix of misfortune and fortune with us, all the while with a smile on their face.
The past few moments have been very difficult. But slowly, this little woman is making herself better. Slowly and slowly, but at least progress is there.
I’ve recently deactivated my social media accounts. But it will only take a matter of time before I will be found again, here, in my humble and secret abode. Before that happens, let me dwell here. Let me write down the words straight from my mouth. How I have been fine and not fine, how I have truly been.
So hello there, existent entity or not. Hello to your soul, happy or otherwise. Let it be known that while I am not okay, little by little I will be. Today, despite all that it is, is so much better than yesterday.
I made more jokes. I gave more (genuine) smiles. I had less negative thoughts. But most importantly, I didn’t cry.
Tap my back, if you’d please. Tap my back. Give me a hug. Tight hug.
Tomorrow, I will even be better than the better that I am today.
For now, let me publish this.
Worry not for me.
Rescue this soul
from the hands of the same body
it resides in.
She is unkind.
In some days, too harsh.
She is in despair
And she carries me along.
In the dark road
And in the same road
Rescue my soul
Time and place are both temporary, matters which are inevitably subject to change.
We don’t own either. So when we leave and then return, while everything and everyone may physically remain the same, we know in truth that they are already different. The place and the people has, gradually, created a new version of itself. One that is similar but is also different. And so has you, from when you parted ways.
So when we stay in a place or with a person, we collect but just the memories. For when we return, the best we can do is to only remember them, and not dwell over the difference they ever made. We don’t own them after all.
“Uli” is such a beautifully sad word.
Uli is a cebuano word, a verb, which means to go home.
If it refers to a thing, it can also mean to return to the owner. Thus, you are referring to an object that was borrowed.
In my conversations with my friends away from home, I often catch myself pausing before saying “muuli na ko“. Because what I actually mean is I am going, not to my home “home” but to my apartment, boarding house, room, wherever I am staying at that time. So in this sense, the word isn’t exactly correct. But for the lack of another term, I use it anyways.
But I guess it can also mean I am returning to a time and place that is only borrowed. I don’t own it, it doesn’t own me too. Iuli ra ni nako, iuli ra pud ko ani.
Thoughts, because di pako muuli but every time I think of these words, it reminds me of so many temporary places I could only thank. But mostly, it creates an image in my mind of what and who I truly think of when I think of home.