If life is a giant book and you were given a task to summarize life into, let’s say, 5000 words, how would you do it? How does one outline something that is immensely vast in nature and normally spans anywhere between 70 to 80 years in the making? How can a person live life to the fullest, compile the things he’s done before kicking the bucket and say-
“I’ve done it all. This is it! I’m good to go. Beam me up, Scottie!”
I’m a twenty-something-year-old humanitarian whose only concern is to find beauty, art, and balance in life. Like a true-blooded Libra, I believe that all things come to those who wait, that life is what we make of it, and know for a fact that no matter what size or width, no paper can be folded more than 7 times.
What I do strongly disagree with is the adage that goes- “Man does not live by bread alone” And that’s only because I love rice and can easily go years without bread.
I barely make 200,000 pesos a year, (my paycheck is a disgrace to all paychecks) still live with my disapproving parents, and on weekends, roam Manila’s filthy streets searching for bars that offer the most affordable Sanmig light bucket with free pulutan. I don’t gamble or play tong-its with friends because I hate losing. I don’t sit around for hours in a café sipping an exorbitant 99 peso espresso. Nope. I drink Nescafe 3 in 1 coffee and that’s it. One of the greatest inventions of the 21st century.
I don’t go on planned trips to Boracay or nearby Asian countries like Thailand or Indonesia. I’ve been to Puerto Galera and that’s it. I honestly think that sand, whether it’s whiter on the other side of the planet offers the same kind of texture- rough. And the only thing that will make your trip better than mine is if you buy sunscreen that offers higher SUV protection.
I don’t own a car. I used to. Not anymore.
I commute from Las Pinas to Paranaque every day in this manner- tricycle- jeep- jeep- fx-sidecar- jeep- tricycle.
Occasionally, if I’m up to the challenge, I go to Divisoria in search of cheap linen shirts with witty font designs like “ Gwapo lang po!” – 2 for 150 pesos. Then I go to Santa Ana church aboard a horse-bound karitela for 20 pesos and end my day in Luneta in front of a dying sunset eating a ten-peso kariton popcorn and minute maid. I love being alone. This, by the way, is my version of a time well spent.
I don’t have megalomaniac tendencies and have learned to set aside any delusions of grandeur as I have grown more pragmatic over the years. But like most of you, I have my own dreams of owning a business one day that would ultimately suit my impishly creative nature:
For example:
The Naughty Salon
An epiphany I had back in 2003 while I was having my hair cut and the barber was like 2 inches away from my right cheek as he was carefully trimming my nose hair and he was leaning over and his shirt was loose and his nipples were showing and I thought-
“Wouldn’t this be a nice scenario if a woman-and (I’m sorry for a lack of a better description)-with large breasts took the place of this barber?”
Of course, you now get the picture. The Naughty Salon will be a pioneering business with tight-clad women in pekpek shorts and honghang shirts styling the modern metrosexual pervert. Services include-
1. Quickie (Haircut)
2. Blow Job (Haircut, Shampoo then blow-dry)
3. Handjob- (Manicure)
4. Footsie (Pedicure)
5. Orgy- (Complete package)
I don’t have any health issues. Not yet, thank god. I’ve had my share of illnesses and diseases but none of them too alarming to be locked up in a mental institution.
Like for example, Somatoparaphrenia- is a type of mental disillusion where one suddenly denies ownership of a limb or an entire side of one’s body. A patient may believe that his whole arm belongs to a doctor or that another patient left it behind. That’s too weird. Even for me. Up to now, I’m extremely healthy and sexually active or sexually healthy and extremely active. Both are true and a fact.
I’ve had girlfriends and they all loved little monogamous me. I mean, I think they did–at least at one point. And why wouldn’t they? Any girl would be a lucky duck to have me. I’m one– funny, two- charming, and let’s see if I can make this a trifecta. I’m funny! I gave up trying to convince myself I was handsome yeeeeeaaaaaarssss ago. Nobody seems to agree with me anyway.
Except for one girlfriend who looked like hillside road kill, all of them were pretty by general public standards. Recently, I had a string of flings as I was unattached and lonely. There’s the busty schoolmate tease, the equally busty clingy millionaire, and the undeniably and probably born busty co-worker. The tease thought I was remarkable, the millionaire thought I was funny and that co-worker, after she let me touch her on certain body parts I don’t have, later on, thought that I was just after her…well, knickers.
I haven’t been married. The closest thing I came to wedlock was when tito Boy hitched tita Olive in 1984 and I was the cutesy ring bearer.
I’m not sure if marriage is for me though. I’m a hard-to-live-with person. I cut my nails on the bed, I leave used dirty clothing on the floor and when I brush my teeth, I make this harsh cacophonous sound that irritates the entire neighborhood.
Sometimes I snore.
An online compatibility test reveals that the person I would end up with is someone witty, outgoing, and enjoys life. She would be the life of the party, has a great sense of humor, and lights up the room with her smile. This someone communicates well and has a great connection with friends, family, and co-workers. She will sweep me off my feet, tell me exactly how she feels, and is not shy to kiss or hug me in public. She loves adventure, and the outdoors and if she finds out I’m interested in something, she will love it also. She is keen to know me and must fall in love with my personality or just the sound of my voice.
Whew! That’s a pretty tall order. To think all I wanted was someone good in bed…
Baz Luhrmann ever so wittingly wrote the secret of life through a song- “maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary, whatever happens, don’t congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either – your choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s.”
A really smart guy.
Maybe life should be outlined this way– school- girlfriends- nice job- get rich- get married- have kids-stay married- die rich. Whew! With time running out, I just realized–
I’m a dead duck.
But I’m happy…
I’m a happy duck.
A happy dead duck.
On the other hand, maybe life is all about contentment and doing the things that satisfy us and make us happy even if we don’t achieve as much as the next person. And when we die and god asks us what we did with our time on earth, we would hold our heads up high, arrogantly smile and say-
“Not much! But thanks! I had fun.”
That, in a nutshell, is my life. If my life were a famous quote, it would be “Been there almost done that”. I make no apologies for my lack of sophistication- it’s genetic. I’m good. If there’s a problem, I usually soak it up and try to make hay with things. Papa once told me that as long as I remember these three things I’ll be fine- love your mother, don’t hurt women, and love the poor. Men were all created equal in the eyes of god.
Papa also told me that the shortest distance between two points is through a straight line.
But that’s a whole different topic altogether…
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