Matchsticks and cigarette boxes
You know you’re not a kid anymore when your Lao-based uncle gives you cigarettes for pasalubong.
I’m not sure if he really meant for me to have them because he only told me to keep them when he saw me laughing at the brand. Then again, if my younger cousins were around and they laughed at the name, I don’t think he’d give them a pack. Hmm. For some reason, this reminds me of a childhood memory. A friend and I were playing at the house next door, where my lola (my mom’s aunt) lives. I think I was around five or six when this happened and, my playmate, Mary Jane, was a year older. So anyway, we were playing some game in a spare room when we noticed a nondescript white rice sack sitting on a corner. Since all children are naturally inquisitive, we opened the sack to see what it contained. It was filled to the brim with all these matchboxes. I got one out, slid it open, and saw that it wasn’t empty; there were matches inside and they came in different colors. Mary Jane and I were oohed and ahhed as though we’ve never seen matchsticks up close. Well, we actually haven’t since we normally aren’t allowed to touch matches at home. Curious to see if all the other matchboxes had colored matches in them too, we then proceeded to open each and every box. All these colorful matches! Some came in red, some came in blue, other boxes even contained colors like pink. We were very giddy about our discovery and began to invent a little game that involved the prettiest matchsticks we could find.
Then my tita came in and screamed when she saw us looking up at her with matches in our hands and guilty expressions on our faces. I guess she thought we were gonna go all pyro on her and set the house on fire. I didn’t have the vocabulary then to explain that we were just looking at the matches because they were so pretty and that we know what they’re for and we aren’t going to eat them or scratch the tips against the side of the boxes. Boy, were we in trouble. Mary Jane ended up getting whipped by my lola using a black leather belt on a chair in the dining room. It happened in front of me and I remember sitting on a chair, watching my friend yell in pain, trembling in fear because I was certain that the same fate awaited me. But when my lola was done, she didn’t tell me to lie on the chair as I expected she would; instead, she gave me this lecture on why we aren’t supposed to play with matches. I’m not sure what I said after that, I think I apologized and said nothing about how I already know that matches are dangerous and we aren’t supposed to touch them. A few minutes later, she hugged me and apologized for yelling at me. Hmm. I just realized that I’d never been whipped by a belt, ever.
So yeah. Moving on to the present day. Thanks Tito. \m/
Filed under Shopping | Comments (7)So…why do I feel so naked?
I don’t know how or why this happened, but my cellphone is busted. As in it conked out on me right when I was reading this message about a Guidon meeting. The battery was far from empty when this happened and no matter how I hard I pressed on the power button, it just wouldn’t open.
Now, I’m not one of those people who have an unhealthy attachment to their cellphone, but in spite of this I can’t help feeling a little helpless, as though I just lost a limb. I can actually go on for days without my phone in tow because the only time I really need it is when I know either my mom or my friends need to get in contact with me. But while I’m not yet on vacation, I need my phone in order to locate my friends or receive announcements and stuff. Plus, I have these really emo messages stored in the phone’s memory and it upsets me to no end that I probably won’t ever get to read them again (I’m very sentimental like that). Unless maybe we get the phone fixed, which will probably cost nearly as much as a brand new one.
And let’s not forget its most useful feature. Nope it’s not the SMS feature–it’s the clock and the alarm clock. I don’t have a watch, you see, so I rely on my cellphone to tell me the time as well as wake me up in the morning. Now, I don’t even have something to occassionally glance at when I feel that lectures are dragging on for a little too long. Fawk!!!
I really hope we have a spare cellphone at home because God knows we can’t afford a new one right now and I desperately need something to wake me up for my 7:30 classes.
Filed under Shopping | Comment (0)Small Baby Steps
Exactly one month from now, I will be turning eighteen. Do you know what that means?
I can legally drive.
I showed my mom the brochure I got from a driving school and tomorrow, I shall be paying a down payment for driving lessons. I am so excited. 
I’m gonna go switch to Shallow Teenager Mode and admit that the main reason why I’m very eager to learn how to drive and get my own car is because I am going to get so many cool points for this. I mean, come on. If you think that there is nothing cool (or at least, appealing) about you, the open road, and your favorite song playing on the stereo in full volume, then there’s probably something wrong with you. Granted, Metro Manila isn’t exactly the safest place to drive around but that’s why I’ll be going to driving school: to learn how deal with the non-existent road rules.
What really worries me is that I’m not quite sure if my dad will allow me to get my own car. He’s read and heard too many horror stories about girls getting kidnapped, raped, and their cars getting stolen. I hope he realizes that I refuse to become a driving-late-at-night horror story. Maybe I can make some sort of deal with him and promise that I’ll be home at exactly 7 pm everyday or something. I will seriously do anything for him to allow me to drive to school and back. But I guess it’s too early for me to worry about how I can persuade him and refute his arguments. Small baby steps. Let me concentrate on learning how to drive first.
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