When was the last time you did something for the first time?
Showing posts with label Bits and Pieces. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bits and Pieces. Show all posts
Monday, May 11, 2009
Friday, May 8, 2009
Grocery
Doing the groceries was once a task I looked forward to. It was usually a Saturday morning or in the afternoon on a weekday when I would meet up with my Mom to accompany her to the grocery store. I usually did my own thing (school stuff, friends stuff, or boyfriend stuff) first before the groceries.
The grocery store occupies half the first floor at a popular mall in my hometown, about two-thirds the size of Megamall's Supermarket. Its floors are shiny and white. The aisles in between shelves are comfortably big enough. The goods and produce are organized accordingly. It doesn't smell fishy and the airconditioning makes you forget it is warm and humid outside.
Notably surprising was how quiet the people doing the groceries were. It was as if conversations should be had at hushed tones and rarely did Serendipity favor a chance meeting between friends or relatives.
It has been 5 years since I last did my grocery there. Looking back, the grocery store was a sanctuary, a refuge from a stressful environment at home: going over the shelved items, running my fingers down labels, helping Mom figure how many of each kind, and silently planning of a strategic way to sneak a bar of Toblerone into the cart without Mom having the chance to say "No".
Today, the nearest I get to sanctuary is Rustan's supermarket but I always end up with a few items on my grocery list I have yet to cross out. Megamall's supermarket holds more items, more variants, and is considerably cheaper BUT all's a hubbub in there-- the moment I am graciously offered a grocery cart, I want to rush the hell out of that place.
I'm contemplating going to a weekend market instead. How about we go back to Salcedo?
The grocery store occupies half the first floor at a popular mall in my hometown, about two-thirds the size of Megamall's Supermarket. Its floors are shiny and white. The aisles in between shelves are comfortably big enough. The goods and produce are organized accordingly. It doesn't smell fishy and the airconditioning makes you forget it is warm and humid outside.
Notably surprising was how quiet the people doing the groceries were. It was as if conversations should be had at hushed tones and rarely did Serendipity favor a chance meeting between friends or relatives.
It has been 5 years since I last did my grocery there. Looking back, the grocery store was a sanctuary, a refuge from a stressful environment at home: going over the shelved items, running my fingers down labels, helping Mom figure how many of each kind, and silently planning of a strategic way to sneak a bar of Toblerone into the cart without Mom having the chance to say "No".
Today, the nearest I get to sanctuary is Rustan's supermarket but I always end up with a few items on my grocery list I have yet to cross out. Megamall's supermarket holds more items, more variants, and is considerably cheaper BUT all's a hubbub in there-- the moment I am graciously offered a grocery cart, I want to rush the hell out of that place.
I'm contemplating going to a weekend market instead. How about we go back to Salcedo?
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Neil Gaiman for the First Time
I could not wait to take a break.
In a week's time, I am flying my bee-hind to a place down South with beaches nearby, more beautiful than Boracay and more serene than Palawan. They say one island is hailed by many diving magazines as one of the 10 most beautiful dive sites in the world. My friend L says he digs it better than El Nido.
I've got everything ready except for my, yes, bee-hind which begins to plummet, where else but, south. It looks heavier now and I swear I've been only eating 1 meal a day. I have yet to open an email sent to me by R; it's this "be-model-thin-in-one-week" diet plan where you get to eat fruits and...shoot!...oh well, I really need to get to that email soon.
I am most excited by the thought of getting my fingers through the pages of Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book. You see, I have never read Neil Gaiman but I've heard a lot about him from friends. J from Vanda could talk for hours about nothing but Sandman and T has Gaiman, I suppose, on her list of "Men I Want To Marry".
In a week's time, I am flying my bee-hind to a place down South with beaches nearby, more beautiful than Boracay and more serene than Palawan. They say one island is hailed by many diving magazines as one of the 10 most beautiful dive sites in the world. My friend L says he digs it better than El Nido.
I've got everything ready except for my, yes, bee-hind which begins to plummet, where else but, south. It looks heavier now and I swear I've been only eating 1 meal a day. I have yet to open an email sent to me by R; it's this "be-model-thin-in-one-week" diet plan where you get to eat fruits and...shoot!...oh well, I really need to get to that email soon.
I am most excited by the thought of getting my fingers through the pages of Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book. You see, I have never read Neil Gaiman but I've heard a lot about him from friends. J from Vanda could talk for hours about nothing but Sandman and T has Gaiman, I suppose, on her list of "Men I Want To Marry".
I will have plenty of time to myself because O will be spending most of the day working. Yes, my (only) one surprised and bitter reader, O will be on vacation while working. I, on the other hand, will roam around the resort, finally figure out how my camera works, eat anything I want, and get to know Gaiman through The Graveyard Book. All is fair...
Oh yes-- I got interested in Gaiman when he, deadpan, got even with Stephen Colbert. I enjoy Colbert for his narcissism, his satirical delivery of political and the not-so political issues, and his comedic jabs on his guests. Colbert is so funny even his guests lose focus. But not Neil Gaiman. Not French high wire artist Philippe Petit (but that's another story). I need a smoke.
When I come back, from my vacation that is, I hope I'll be inspired to write about the book. Who knows, I may even add Gaiman to my own list of "Men I Want To Marry".
We'll see.
Redemption
Ok, so right now I'm chatting with O. and we are trying to revive our old accounts online. O. more determined now than ever, particularly on Multiply, because he's been seeing his poems posted on other people's sites.
"I'm getting my poems back!" He said.
"You don't have a blog. What did you expect?" I, half-heartedly, berated him.
And now...he just got an email from Blogger asking him to wait while they verify his account isn't spam.
Poor O.
I was partly the reason why he stopped posting online.
"I'm getting my poems back!" He said.
"You don't have a blog. What did you expect?" I, half-heartedly, berated him.
And now...he just got an email from Blogger asking him to wait while they verify his account isn't spam.
Poor O.
I was partly the reason why he stopped posting online.
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