Oh, Monday

Good thing I have a teaching job. Good thing students actually take time off from, er, studying, therefore the existence of a summer vacation.

For two weeks now, I have been nothing but a bum. Worse than an arse, a BUM. Am loving it, nevertheless. Waking up at 10 am, read long-overdue books, eat frosted cereal, go out to have coffee at Bean Hub (hello CJ!) to do some more reading and a bit of writing and, if something comes up, stay at IC's at night till the music which indicates 'Please people, we have lives. Go home!'

In the same two weeks, I've gotten to talk to people, familiar or otherwise, friend or acquaintance, about anything and everything under the sun (and the clouds, for that matter). Catukayo, for crucial decisions that need to be made. M, for getting me to ponder on what I could possibly do for my workplace. Needles, for the love-crap thing. Bopis, for regalling me, as always, with his stories, prompting me to tell him he was born in the wrong century.

P., an old friend from high school, stayed at our place for the weekend. She came to Los Banos with no plans - who to see, where to go. But, as is always the case with her, she got to see the people she wants to meet up with, proving once again Los Banos is her spiritual home.

We had long talks over the weekend. The perfunctory how-are-you-how's-the-family-how's-the-dog. Dating anyone? Whatever happened to (name of person). The whole deal. It amazes me to realize that she could be as straight-forward about things and opinions of people as I am (and more) but with less of the sarcasm.

Last Saturday, the second night of impromptu high school reunions, P. got to talking about how our classmates recounted the 'what actually happened' versions of stuff that happened back then. A lot of 'He/she was supposed to be suspended as well?' and 'He/she did WHAT?' Then she tells me why don't I write something about it, the whole 'behind the scenes' account of what took place more than a decade ago, with us nearing thirty, in various stages in life (married/single/annulled/divorced/with kid, no husband/with bratty kid/spiralling down/climbing back up again/still thinks like he or she is still in high school/still in undergrad). I laughed, saying how I have been thinking for some time now about a similar project on our barkada, with one chapter dedicated to each person. Probably if the friend is special enough (read: has had a colorful life), she'll have two chapters.

Note: I really, really need to have coffee. And breakfast. And sleep. Maybe a nap.