When someone says "No man is an island," you'd hear me murmuring a protest in the background. Of course, I mean that in terms of non-absolute needs. You can ship me off to Mars and I'd thrive. Of course, I wouldn't know how to cook myself a decent meal to save my life, but there's always Lucky Me and takeout. And there's tons of de lata at the nearby supermarket, if you're not squeamish about gorging on preservative-laden fare. Grocery stores are actually really neat places, if you're the type who likes reading up on and about what you're eating.
So that's how you take care of a need. On the other end of the spectrum, I believe in the essence of people. I believe in teamwork and the power of communication in getting things done. Like, I'm totally clueless with maps and contraptions that have numbers and geometric figures etched on them. But that's what the unassuming passers-by and the tambays are for. ("Yung bus stop? 'Ayan oh, sa harap mo!") If asking for directions was a racquet sport, I could probably give Serena Williams a run for her money. Don't give me that look; I could out-"grrr" that girl anytime, no sweat. I may not look like it (I patented the malamya look in high school--they used to call me the Daria Morgendorffer of the batch, the thugs!), but I like running around. Never mind that I stop to ask for directions way too often. If the Barbies from All-Stars needed someone to fill in for them on the non-off-chance that they might be giving the Amazing Race another go, they can give me a call and I'd tell them right off, "Where's the pitstop?"
But to actually be dependent on someone for things that don't require a sense of urgency, that's not my style. You won't see me doing the kambal-tuko routine wherein you're joined at the hip with a buddy who's got more downtime than the clone PC that my brothers play games on back in ole ZC. Been there, done that. So 90's.
Thing is, I'm no nomad (only by circumstance). But I got a nomad's sense of adventure, that awareness of things larger than life sitting out there, waiting to be explored. As a result, my mindset is such that I tend to look forward a tad too much to the view of the forest while I'm climbing individual trees in search for that perfect nesting spot. In effect, I sometimes don't see what kind of tree it is. And by way of explanation, I shrug it off, saying I'm more of a beach person anyway.
But whether I get it right or not, I'm uber thankful for the big, little things that I stumble on en route to the finish line, wherever that may be. Like a funny-looking pebble that you chance upon on a pristine shoreline, its craggy facets hinting at a never-ending story. Like simple hello's sent out of the blue, flooring you like nothing else can. Like friendships that started off rocky and which you didn't think would amount to much. Who'd have thought I'd be a sucker for that big, little thing from the black hole that is Malabon? Wuv you, Zel. Hot mama extraordinaire. Vamos!
