Got home yesterday 5:00 PM after spending Sunday night at a friend's place somewhere down south. Was there for her daughter's birthday party -- which had a very odd turnout because most of the guests were grown-ups, and there were more alcohol present than a Saturday night open bar. Not that anyone dared complain, and the little girl seemed to have the best time among everyone present.
I enjoyed being there myself because of a couple of little victories I can be proud of ever since resigning from work:
First, I was able to commute from Makati to Sucat all by my lonesome without much of a fuss. I didn't even pay for the bus ride! The conductor apparently doesn't have change for P20, so he just asked for me to wait. We were already in front of SM Bicutan and I needed to get off the bus, but the conductor didn't make a move to stop me. So I stepped out with the crumpled P20 bill in my sweaty hand, free from any obligations. I took it as a good sign.
Second, I was able to sit through -- and quite possibly even enjoy -- the company of straight guys and their booze-induced conversations which, to be honest, more often than not I find too... rugged for me. Never mind that most of them were hot as fuck and I was willing to listen to even the most senseless man-drivel they get themselves into; they actually talked about pretty sensible stuff and -- surprise surprise -- things I found myself wanting to talk about as well.
For instance, some of them were unemployed, and I was like, Hallelujah, I am with kindred spirits! Most of my other friends either had a stable job, or are earning money in some way, or studying, or at least have an ambition to drive them -- I don't even have that -- and there I was with these guys talking about what it was like! The peaks and valleys and the jagged edges of our non-lives brewed and stewed in alcohol, sisig, and friendly banter. The best thing about it was they knew I was gay (unintentionally, and involving one little incident with a hotdog), and it didn't even bother them one bit. Or if it did, it wasn't at all apparent, which I appreciated muchly.
Anyway, the party mellowed down around 4:00 AM when people started going home. My friend insisted me and another friend stay over, and because we had no more energy to decline, we did. 10-ish we woke up, had lunch on leftovers, and watched a couple of DVDs before finally heading home.
On the bus ride, I was thinking how great it would have been if the only things I lived for were little victories and the company of friends. It would have been -- should have been -- enough. After all I'm doing fine, all things considered. But, well, I'm not there yet I suppose. The bus was careening on the highway barely stopping, and it seemed apt to pray for the universe to be patient with me. So I crossed my fingers, and I did.
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PS: Damien Rice's new songs kept me company on the ride home. His music makes me weak in the knees. Well I held you like a lover // Happy hands and your elbow in the appropriate place // And we ignored our others, happy plans // For that delicate look upon your face // Our bodies moved and hardened // Hurting parts of your garden // with no room for a pardon // In a place where no one knows what we have done.
