Walking Through Walls

So yesterday was my first day back at work from vacation. I was fully rested, though I think my brain was still dulled by Vacation that it failed to notice the madness creeping in on my Monday. All was well (I think) until I almost walked into a white wall at Glorietta.

I was on my usual route, Ayala Walkway to Greenbelt, to Landmark, to Glorietta and finally to SM Makati and EDSA Ayala. I’ve been using the route for years, and honestly, I’ve stopped paying attention to where I am going while on the said route. Yesterday, I was texting a couple of friends, commenting about how cold it was. Then I looked up and saw that 2 steps in front of me was a blank wall. I stared at it for a while, puzzled at the sudden development, before doubling back to take another route.

At the intersection before another white wall, the Maul Management was considerate enough to post a mime. Yep. A mime, complete with makeup and black and white striped shirt. He was empathically signaling that “This route is closed too, yuppie bitches.” by shaking his head and hands. I was tempted to signal W-T-F, but went on walking anyway.

After taking the long way to Ayala, I had to wait a little for the bus. I got on the disco bus. Its blinking lights and remixed version of Aegis songs gave me a migraine and I don’t know why, but also an intense feeling of melancholy.

It’s crazy how we become so accustomed to our routes and routines that we barely realize that we are two inches away from walking into a dead end. There are no signs, just a mime shaking his head and forcing you into a new route. You’re not expected to like it, and neither are you expected to get used to it at the soonest possible time. In your head, you cling to the hope that they’re only renovating and not closing down completely. But still, you begrudgingly take the new route anyway – either forever or temporarily.

On my earphones, Ebe was singing, Sino? Nasan? Kailan ka ba? and I remember my friend Lei was asking me about retirement homes (Okay ba sa Golden Acres?). I told her I’ll build a kubo duplex with wifi and we can be incontinent together if she doesn’t want to face decreptitude alone. I can understand her fear of dying alone and mapanghi, and I realize that this feeling pokes at us more often than when we were younger and joking about entering a monastery and whether any Batman-loving monastery would accept us.

Most of the time, I fantasize about building a house atop a mountain, and living like an ermitanya. Recently, I heard a great human adaption story (like blind people learning sonar, and deaf people ‘listening’ to music via vibrations) and I thought, if blind people can cope with being blind, I can cope with being cold and alone.

Fuck, I hate this it’s-cold-let’s-make-lablab phase.