Last weekend I was caught between two contradicting thoughts. The first is how “unexciting” and probably more “reserved” I’ve become since the good old days of running a muck as a teenager. (As if that was really that long ago, age wise at least.) The second is how much I enjoy this mellowed down version of myself. However, the problem arises when I start to wonder whether that makes me a boring person, which is the last thing I ever want to be.
First, lets back track.
It was a Thursday night and I was having some beers in Cantina listening to an exchange of “wildest things you’ve done and are allowed to share” stories of the company I was with. Just so you know, even at my peak, mine can’t compare. Like everything else in the world, wildness is relative and apparently, it can get old.
Afterwards, rather than discover where the night would take me, a big part of me just wanted to be a bum instead of letting my friends drag me to Distillery. But because I was feeling some sort of metaphysical unease & secretly wanting to prove to myself that I was and still am just as “game” for nightly crusades, I agreed. Ironically, after spending 30 minutes there, my friends and I ended up back in LGV, watching a DVD and food trippin.’
Then, a couple of other things happened.
Friday night I had dinner & drinks with Gabe, Marjie and Keena which thanks to our table topics was potentially empowering and borderline depressing. Saturday night I went to a joint birthday bash of my friends, complete with intoxication and regurgitation. And despite my initial “issues”, sometime within those 2 days I had a fleeting thought: I still have it, whatever this “it” is.
Maybe it was the gyration to 90’s music or the touch of the familiar cool late night air upon my cheek as I sat in the front seat of my friend’s car with the windows rolled down. Maybe it was spending time with friends having dinner, which I always take as indication of “real friendship.” Whatever “it” was, I was happy and satisfied with being in those moments.
But come Monday, these 2 contradicting thoughts finally came to an agreement:
Boring is not the lack of “exciting” events in ones life. Rather, boring is being unhappy with what one is doing, which tends to make you compare your stories to that of others, especially on a Thursday night drinking beers in Cantina.
If Eleanor Roosevelt was living in the 21st century, maybe she would have told us “No one can make you feel boring with out your consent.”
On a side note, some other thoughts also occurred that weekend:
“Money is like oxygen. We need it to survive but it’s not the reason for our existence” – Marji
Sometimes, don’t you wish escaping was as easy as pressing a button?
Talking with Marj made me realize how commercialized our Ateneo education is compared to UP. It’s a fact and in some ways it kinda annoys me off.
Gabe, contemplating: How do we beat the damn system? It’s scary to think of whether the potential of our generation can in fact be realized one day.
Artista’s are normal people too. They hang out with their barkada’s having dinner and drinking a couple of beers like the rest of us. That’s Anne Kurtis btw, who was there with her buddies Jake Cuenca and Jericho Rosales.