THE CHARCOAL EXPRESS

Sunday is not really my favorite day.  Sundays make me sad for some reason.  I do not know why but Sundays turn me blue.  I will find my tears falling from eyes and I will always end up sobbing from melancholy. 

What is up with that? Is it because I am alone? Is it because I am thinking of something or someone? Is it because of mom’s music? Oh, my mom.  She tunes in to this radio station every Sunday which plays Tagalog songs from the 70’s, 80’s and early 90’s.  She loves Imelda Papin songs. She sees to it that the stereo volume is in the maximum level when they are played.  Oh mom, I love you but your music is killing me.

I remember, of course it was Sunday, when I lost control and wept to death because of this old song I heard from the same radio station mom was listening to.  It is a Tagalog song sung by a man and the lyrics go something like this (in English translation):

FIRST VERSE

How are you?
You have not changed even a bit.

You looked that way the last time I saw you.

I still remember when I was about to go,

I was looking back at you until you were gone.

CHORUS

It has been a while since I have waited,

To see you, to hug you, and to kiss you one more time

And now it happens and yet I stutter

The only thing I can say is “How are you?”

What a song.  It hit me and I felt it.  Sundays drive me to think a lot and reflect about my life which I avoid because I tend to get depressed.  I would not like depression to take over so I stay out of home and spend my time with something else like working out in the gym.  Sigh…  Sundays…

I was with a friend yesterday and we were on our way out of the office.  My friend should be grateful because I spent my valuable time waiting for him after he had been requested to render an extra hour of work.  To keep myself busy, I borrowed his PSP and played two games:  one is an arcade and the other is an RPG.  Man!  Both games bored me to death.  Oh well, I am just saying that because I am not a gamer.  I just do not enjoy hitting buttons for combat combos or driving a virtual character solving puzzles and mysteries – not my type.  I do not have fat fingers but I really cannot hit the right combinations to defeat the enemies.

Anyway, we logged out, we took a taxi cab, and we traveled along the usual path on the way to Cubao.  I asked my friend what I will get from him after waiting for an hour. I do not expect much, knowing his sarcasm, but I have wanted to hear him say that he will treat me in Taco Bell or he will pay for my enrollment fee in the gym where he is working out.  He looked at me and then gave me the most derogating stare I have never seen from someone who knows me well.  It was as if he was telling me to be ashamed of myself for what I have uttered but he did not put it into words though – his facial expression said it all.

He asked me, “Why are you so stingy? You have lots of money but we never tasted even a portion of it.  I cannot believe we supported you in the contest yet we have not felt that you won.”

For my defense I answered, “I am not stingy.  I am only being practical on how I can take advantage out of my earnings.   Is it not what we call being thrifty?”

And then I said, “So when are you going to treat me?”

My friend said nothing but rolled his eyes.