My Sundays are usually spent with family at home in Bulacan. We used to live in this area far north of the province, a good one hour travel from the city we now live in. It's the place where we grew up as kids and where our mother church is at so it has been an unwritten tradition to go home on Sundays, in more ways than one. Though this last Sunday was an exception. I knew I wouldn't be home and most likely to spend the whole day alone tucked inside an industrie cafe somewhere in *wait for it* Makati. I know what you're probably thinking - why would she literally go the distance, travel to Makati and on a Sunday?
I was quite questioning myself as well up until I was in line for the cab that will hopefully take me to my destination. As per the Grab app, fare shouldn't be over a hundred bucks so I'm guessing it's just around the area, at least that's what I'm hoping for. "What do you know... Of course I'll have my first day of period today of all the days. Ts the day of the writing class workshop, by the way". The message I sent my friend who told me about the workshop in the first place, as soon as I locked the cab door. Thank goodness for technology. She's physically unavailable to come with me since she's working abroad so sending her a message was the next best option to keep me company.
"So you're going to have to make a pass on this? Sayang naman." She offered since she thought I completed ditched the idea of going. What she didn't know was that I was already en route to the venue and I just needed someone to talk me into it since my hormones decided to mess things up for me, thankyouverymuch. And then she said the one thing I knew I needed to hear, "Go! I have a feeling na hindi mo pagsisisihan 'yan."
I was early - and when I say early, I mean one solid hour early which is rare for someone like me who tends to end up cramming or arriving just in the nick of time. The thing is I wanted to be early. Since it's been a while since I last attended a social event, I thought I'd use the spare time to warm up and soak in the atmosphere before the crowd shows up. Plus it's a coffee shop, relatively new to me so I wouldn't really have a problem distracting myself until it's time for the workshop proper. Or you know, in case something comes up, I have a lot of time to figure a way out and not miss out on the workshop. With my history, believe me that this is a possibility.
"How To Be Alone S29 E06", that's how I captioned my snapshot of the workshop backdrop, I was seated in the middle of the second row, and in a couch so I had pretty good view. I was technically alone but definitely not lonely since I was surrounded by likeminded people who were linked together by the love for the written words. And then the aloneness of it all disappeared when I suddenly saw this familiar guy walked up the stairs and eventually took a seat right behind me.
It was Arthur Bernard. Or maybe you know him by his band Hale and his nickname, Champ. But I personally know him as someone who used to inspire me so much back in college or you could probably say, a rockstar I literally used to chase around. Although if I'm being honest, that is still the understatement of the century. A Conversation with Champ is another story waiting to happen somewhere, I may or may not write it but I have it, it's mine and it happened.
I can think of a million ways on how to be alone. I could probably come up with a couple of stories on how to spend a Sunday. I can make of a good plot for a story or a conversation, even a monologue. But I'm pretty sure none of them could've up possibly lived up to the reality this particular day had to offer - what do you know, for once my reality had something better to offer than my fiction. They say if you made an impact on a musician's life, you'll end up in a song, somewhere. I concur. If you come across one of us and you made an impact, you left a moment or we shared a memory, you'll end up in our story, somewhere.
This is mine.
This is mine.