“Always and never are two words you should always remember never to use.”
I always check to make sure I haven’t used a post title previously because I never want to duplicate it. So, I had in mind a sarcastic “what a life” title but was pretty certain that at some point during these past fifteen years of blogging I must have used it. Instead, I tried going with something stupid, “who’d a thunk it” and was surprised that I had just used that header last year. It was kind of interesting in a sad way to read again how things came to an end with Jessa. Coincidentally, today is her birthday and I sent the appropriate greeting via Facebook for which she thanked me.
Oddly enough, when I checked I discovered that I had NOT, in fact, used “what a life” previously. And now I have. What a life, eh? Maybe it isn’t exactly sarcasm, because an exclamation of “what a life!” can connotate both good and bad. Like everyone, I have moments in both realms but most of my time these days seems to be consumed in my meaningless routines and rituals. That’s the life I’ve chosen and I’m not really complaining. I can imagine other lifestyles and places, but I don’t imagine I’d be any happier than I am now. A long way from perfect, but smack dab in the middle of good enough.
I began my Saturday night at the tiny bar called Marick’s. That cute little 23-year-old bargirl was waiting for me. In fact, she had been sending me “where are you?” messages since early in the afternoon. She seems to be a sweet girl, gentle and caring. Sits close and rubs my hands or massages my legs in the manner a loving girlfriend would. It is easy to get lost when I gaze into those big brown eyes and imagine how nice it would be to have a woman who enjoyed taking care of me. Of course, she’s not the one–too young and with two young kids to boot. She’s not much of a talker either. So, we just sit there and enjoy the music and some beers together. There are worse ways to kill an hour or two.
Speaking of music, when I’m there at Marick’s they like to plug into my Spotify playlists (the bar doesn’t have wifi). At one point while I was enjoying the attentions of my bargirl, an old song by the Electric Light Orchestra (ELO) came on. I’d seen them in concert back around 1975 and it was probably the best live rock show I’ve ever experienced. The band was unique in that it featured an acoustic string instrument section backing the vocals and guitar work of Jeff Lynne. And here I was 45 years later hearing it in the Philippines. I couldn’t help but wonder what the 20-year-old me would have thought if he could see the life he’d be living as an old man. Knowing me, I would have said, “go for it, pops!”.
Three more guys arrived and the bar felt uncomfortably crowded, so I paid my tab and headed out into the Saturday night. As I walked up the highway I felt the first drops of rain. Luckily, I was just around the corner from the It Doesn’t Matter bar. I made it inside just before the skies opened up for a downpour accompanied by lightning and thunder.
My favorite waitress was occupied playing pool with another customer, so I spent an hour or so drinking alone, watching the rain, and contemplating my somewhat solitary life. Once Roan was free, she joined me and we shared a couple of beers and our usual banter. If I could put that brain in the other gal’s body, I might have the perfect girlfriend. See how shallow I am?
The rain eventually let up some and I made it an early night. Got up this morning with every intention of doing my standard Sunday stroll. But it didn’t work out that way. I got a couple of kilometers up the highway and just wasn’t feeling it. So, I walked the streets of the Matain barangay instead. As I was going back towards home on the highway I decided to go the back way to Alta Vista to add some distance to my walk. And for the first time ever, I got stopped at the checkpoint as I entered the Santo Tomas barangay.
“Where are you going?” San Isidro. “Why?” I live there. “Let me see your ID.” I gave him my ACR card, which says Alta Vista, barangay Barretto. Although technically my residence is in San Isidro. The checkpoint official looks at it and says “Oh, Alta Vista. This isn’t the way to Alta Vista”. I told him I was taking the back way home. He gave me back my ID, told me to wait, then went and consulted with two police officers. A couple of minutes later he waved me on. How’s that for excitement? I guess they figured that COVID doesn’t know about the back way to Alta Vista.
Took a nap, watched some old episodes of One Step Beyond on my big screen TV (via YouTube), and also saw a video from The Filipina Pea about “10 things all Filipinas say” that often lead to misunderstandings. Heh, I learned a couple of new things to use myself when I talk to the ladies. Here it is:
And that brings you pretty much up to date on where things stand in my world. I’ll leave you a little music from ELO to enjoy before I go: