Things You Put In a Box
My sister recently accused me of being materialistic and I felt it was an unfair judgment for somebody who has not bought anything new for himself in the past year. It is true. The last thing I probably bought for myself that gave me great satisfaction (at that point) was the plane ticket back home. Other than that, most of what I wear now are tattered to near tattered remnants of when I was five years or so younger, my shoes are all seedy from un-use and I have a favorite raggedy bag which I dare not use now because it has a large tear and it looks like a gaping maw eating clothes, books and bottled water when I use it going to the beach.
I thought about the word she used: materialistic. I was so bothered that I looked it up in the dictionary and frankly I thought what she should have used was “sentimental.” I hold on to things not because of the monetary value that they represent. The i-pod I rarely use nowadays. The laptop serves its purpose well. So does the camera. But apart from those, my most treasured things are ones that I derive a lot of happiness from when I remember things about them.
I’ve always blamed this flat pumice stone for my decision to move back to the Philippines. It’s a nice blue-black river stone I found near a cave in Cagayan Valley, just the perfect size for my palm. I spent several hours looking for the perfect stone in that river because I remembered my grandmother’s pumice stone when I was small. She would bathe us and use it to scrub the grime off with warm water at night and it made me feel so good and comforted. Suffice to say, that stone became a source of comfort when I was in the States. Whenever I felt so alone, I’d spend a lot of time in the tub and scrubbing myself red as if to wash all the loneliness away.
The day I left for the states, I bought a copy of my favorite newspaper at the airport and kept it in a drawer in my apartment. And every so often I would open it and read the news of my last day in the Philippines. I still have it now.
The pink shells and small white pebbles from Boracay and Mindoro, I also brought with me. It was from a time when my friends and I had a road trip from Manila to Negros Island and right now it felt like it was the beginning and end of some things good and bad. I remember Neil and Jofel. And how fun it is to not share driving duties because I was the only one without a driver’s license. And the wonders of being in a place so different from your usual environment and share the moment with people you really care about. We were just so carefree that time, and it was just several years ago.
I keep this relationship journal from before. Hahahaha! I guess I’m crazy for doing that. I had the receipt of the hotel when I first visited Cebu to be with Jigger. The idiot being an architect chose a hotel based on the merits of its façade design instead of actual amenities. I kept the ticket stub when I went to see Rent with Lawrence. Two gay people watching a gay musicale deriving different meanings from the experience I guess. The rest I immortalized in the journal through words such as these; first kiss first sex, first heart breaks.
I can never abide pictures for remembrance. It just feels like a cop out, an easy way to remember things. I see people just rushing through places when they go sight-seeing, get a photo taken and move somewhere else. I want things to be impressed to my thoughts, like how something feels like, what nice emotions it actually gives you. It makes life more special rather than something that you have to live through.
that could be exciting. only that i would be working some days…hmm..oh well.