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Ruth is a full-time writer. Foodie. Happy camper. Wanders a lot. Used to have the worst taste in men. A reformed swipe-a-holic. Reviving her blog after its death.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

On being infinite


Charlie in “Perks of Being a Wallflower” feels infinite sitting beside the girl he loves while inside the Big Boy.


I think I know what he means.


I was infinite when I was with Shayn and Felice while we sat on the bamboo pathway in Island Cove. The South China Sea was on our feet while the full moon shone brightly amidst the thick clouds that threatened to deliver rain on us. Across the calm water, so far, far away, were the lamppost lights of Diosdado Macapagal Avenue and Coastal Road. A bird, probably a dove, flew above us every once and while.


Believe me, it is as poetic and cheesy as I describe it to be.


Invading Tere in her secluded office in the fourth floor of our building is infinity. Behind the collapsible walls, we gossip and talk about how not wanting to settle for mediocre relationships. Funny how our conversations would start innocently enough and end with tears. It’s uncanny whenever I realize that this girl knows what’s it like to be me.


Infinity is going to gigs of local bands and they play songs that you realize is the theme of your life.


I always feel infinite when I sit beside Patrick inside the car a few hours before we go home. It is at these moments when all my guards are down. There’s just no point in lying when we talk about things like religion (yes, I do have one), faith, future plans, wrestling, friends, lost loves, what-could-have-beens, among other things.


I find it surprising that for someone so good (as in really, truly, ridiculously, slap-him-in-the-face-and-he-would-be-the-one-to-apologize good) as him would find tolerance for someone as bratty and catty as me. When I get helplessly bitchy he’d just shut up and nod his head as if he totally agrees with me. I love it when people tell me that I’m right, even when they don’t mean it. :)


Then sometimes we would spend hours and hours calling each other names. I end up hitting him on his arms while the only thing he could do as revenge is to lightly tap me… None of us would mind because we know we don’t really mean it. And in a way, the whole process is endearing.


But the peak of my infinity when I’m with him is when I’m sleepy and it feels like I’m moving underwater and I don’t want to talk. I just want to just sit there. Sit there and open the moonroof of my car and stare at Orion’s belt and wonder how the hell has the sky managed to remain unchanged all these years?


In the cocoon of that car, with an old song in the background, realizing that the world is moving while I procrastinate, sitting beside a friend who understands me, I feel infinite.