numb3rs

(I enjoy the show, but this isn't about that. And also not about typing "tH1S wAy".)

I reread a Haruki Murakami quote today:

Numbers aren’t the important thing...what matters is deciding in your heart to accept another person completely. When you do that, it is always the first time and the last.

I am not romantic and as much as I love Haruki, I do not get life lessons from his work.

In no way did this quote change, or remotely affect my life and the decisions that I made. It however, made me say to myself "Haruki, you got a point there".

Once upon a time, it had been brought to my attention by a certain couple that I have had (based on some standard) too many boyfriends.

When I think about it now, I have not gone past one hand's count. But taking the typical (what is typical?) number of relationships my contemporaries have had, it would likely fall above average. Maybe like Haruki, the couple had a point too.

I however, expect that people who know me get it.

The couple's opinion doesn't upset me. Or make me reconsider my decisions in case I am able to go back in time. Apologies are out of the question.

I guess some people fail to see beyond numbers and rules that the paths taken by their lives are sometimes based on trivialities.

Engaging in relationships does not make you a loose woman. Engaging in meaningless relationships does.

winter is coming

The Stark family has always been my favorite. It didn't matter that they are doomed and as a very brilliant young man once predicted they will all die in the end, save Jon Snow and Arya (the story has not ended but I have the feeling HE is right, as usual). I could write a long entry about the characters but that would be overwriting--not that I mind doing so.

The family's slogan is the title of this post. And their sigil is a direwolf--irrelevant information there. Let me get right to it and say that on my way home, dried leaves were falling off the trees and I thought to myself, winter is coming.

EOD

As we were looking at the sunset through the window, we had the same thing in mind. We kept our silence until a few seconds before dusk.

T: Pag nagkakataon na nakikita mo yan, nalulungkot ka ba?
O: Oo
T: Parang kahit nasan ka, nasa kotse, out of town, nasa bahay...pareho lang yung nararamdaman mo no?
O: Iba nga din, parang kahit nangyayari araw araw, naapektuhan ka parin
T: Hindi ko ma-explain... parang gusto ko tumigil na dun, ayokong mag-gabi
O: Naiintindihan ko, parang, alamo yon? parang talagang merong natatapos

Then I thought, he got it. Completely. That is the feeling. You feel like something great is ending. And I have yet to meet someone who faces that with whole-hearted enthusiasm.

Mediums please

I have switched to Marlboro Ultra Lights since I moved to Singapore almost three years ago. Yesterday, while I was in front of the 7-eleven counter, I saw a Marlboro Mediums pack and decided to get it instead of my usual.

It reminded me of that time when I was starting my college education, it was a time when Php 500 would be enough to buy dinner for two at T.G.I. Friday's and TGIS meant a very popular show in channel 7. It also meant carpool, quarter pounders and caramel sundaes, that gold bracelet with a heart charm, my giant piggy bank, Baskin-Robbins in Town Center, "happy berday" cakes and banana breads.

Scents, feelings, specific weather, and as I recently discovered, cigarettes remind me of spefic moments, or even a period of time. While I am not one to dwell on the past, I find myself feeling extra happy to have a flashback--even for a just split second and surrender to the nostalgia attack.

Rainy Days (and Sundays) and Mondays (and Tuesdays)

It has been raining non-stop since Sunday. I had no idea that it could rain this much in Singapore. Based on my recollection of rainfall during the last year and a half that I had been here, rain usually lasts no more than a meager two hours. I remember complaining that I miss rainy days in Manila.

I especially like driving after a downpour; the greens seem greener. I feel more solemn. I get the same feeling when I read Japanese novels, it is as though some Zen magic spell had been cast on the ink that whoever lays her eyes upon it would experience tranquility.

I look out my window, to watch the traffic, to watch the Christmas lights in Raffles Country Club fill the ballroom with an orange glow. As I finish the last of my cucumbers, it dawns on me; I am at peace.