my own shack

May 26, 2010

Last Sunday, I went to a rural town in our province. Lola asked me to take her to the wake of her brother-in-law’s wife. I’ve never actually met Insong Adela, as Lola called her, and I barely knew the people there. So, while Lola was talking to our relatives, I, along with cousins Ian and Eduard and a friend, decided to walk around the area. Generally, the area was quiet, with simple (and sometimes barely finished) concrete houses lining the streets. There were small sari-sari stores in the area, where the bantay sleepily watches the afternoon showbiz shows in their Samsung televisions while manning the store (for some reason, no one was selling softdrinks). Though it was already afternoon, it was still hot and humid, that is, until I spotted a ricefield.

It was already decided. We were gonna walk into that field. For some reason, I am particularly attracted to a bukid. As a child, whenever we pass by the green fields on our way to Manila, I look dreamily at these fields, especially at those small houses in the center. I want to try to live in there. I’ve dreamt of so many stuff to do there. The most peculiar I thought about was hiding billions of cash in that small lone house in the field. haha. My idea was that nobody knows I am filthy rich. Well, that remains a dream. The house, and the filthy rich. haha.

We were playing/running around as were walking on the pilapil. I didn’t know it was a little hard to not fall out of the pilapil. Then we saw a little shack in the middle of the field. Though it was a little far from the street where we came from, we made it some sort of a quest to make it there. There wasn’t really much of a hurdle, only the grasses and some thorny stuff and the long-distance walk. We managed to get to that little shack, sat down, and enormously enjoyed the air touching our faces. I hope my cousins appreciated the place as much as I did. And I think they did (they took pictures of themselves there). We didn’t notice that we were already gone for hours.

 

 The place we went to looks like this, even the shack. Photo from the web. 

i want to write

Lately, I’ve been rereading the posts that I’ve written in my hard drives and blogs in the past, especially my more personal and emotional blog. I miss writing for an hour and more, especially writing about what is inside me. Most of what I wrote in the past 30 posts or so were my thoughts on everyday life, most of which were dark. Some were really very uniteresting matters, even to me. Sometimes, I wish I could provide a more sensible posts to the few readers I have. Most of the blogs that I follow have interesting stuff to share, or even simple posts that make you smile, or pictures that you admire. And I know that somehow they have noticed the lack of effort I put into my posts (I am sorry). I really, really want to write a good narrative, a good news, or simply a good trivia. I want to write and to express. I want to “cry” in this blog. I want to share. I want to write just because. But I just don’t. But I just can’t. I want it to happen, sooner or later.