I guess that’s why they call it the blues

8 01 2010

Somewhere in Greenbelt 5, evening of 07 January 2010.

DEPECHE MODE’S Somebody playing first on the radio, then on constant rotation in my head, didn’t help at all.  While I may have ended up calling this post by another English man’s song’s title, it was the haunting ballad from arguably the most successful electronic music group in history that made me realize one thing.  From the opening strains of the line: “I want somebody to share,” a neuron crossed a synapse in my head and I wondered – almost out loud – “Damn, I’m alone.”

Though I’ve never had any problem asserting my independence – even quite unapologetic whenever I spew out my one-liner, “table for one, please” – for the first time I had become aware of the fact that I was indeed alone.  Single.  Solitary.  Solo.  Unattached.  Uncommitted.

And passing by one sales associate painstakingly removing the stubborn foil snowflake stickers on their window display just further reminded me that the happiest of seasons had surely passed and it was already time to take down the holiday trimmings.  And it seemed sad.  Thought bubbles popped atop my head as I took the sight in.  How I wished I were with someone to share my thoughts with.  Nobody was beside me to nudge when I had to point out that the mall had still kept the giant white Christmas tree and the French sofa beside it.

Trust Ms. Kris Aquino to dole out snippets of wisdom be it from her P.O.V. desk as she opines on showbiz matters of national interest; or as she sashays towards her perfect blocking on SNN.  I credit her for categorically stating that in life, one can only be so lucky with one of two – career or (love)life.  But hardly ever both.  Even one really close friend who had his birthday recently claimed the same.

I pondered on this thought further as I went to Zara, the first store on my list of post-holiday S-A-L-E events I have decided to go to.  (Zara’s sale started yesterday, January 7th).  But the conflicting thoughts in my head heavily interfered with calculations on the cost-per-wear mileage a gray coat would give me.  So I replaced it on the rack.  I looked at the unforgiving bright lighting fixtures on the ceiling, noticed that the air conditioning was terrible, and right beside the “795-pesos-a-piece” table, I accepted I was alone.  I left.

Yes, alone.  But not sad.  The will to be happy is just something I will not compromise.

I flung open the door to Cibo Café and politely asked, “table for one, please.”

"Wish" the blues away.

      

Copyright © 2010 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MuchTime™©.  All rights reserved.

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