8th going to 14th

Don't you just love it when you'r just walking along, minding your own business, having let go of the past, being content and moving along, and then something unexpected happens.

The world moves.

No, I don't mean that the world MOVED, but it did, sorta.

Like, one moment you're on 8th street turning the corner to 14th street, you're well aware that everything is as it should be on that corner. You turn, and WHAM! What's in front of you is now behind you and what was 8th street at your back, is now 8th street in front of you.

Quantum Leap, maybe? Or the world just moved in a little quicker pace than you expected it, so you're a little disoriented. Whatever the case, though, you're a little out of step, out of sorts, out of sync.

Say, you finished claiming your passport at the DFA early, and suddenly felt like meeting up with your sister. That in itself is the world moving a little faster because you know you rarely ever make the effort to see her for many many reasons. But, hell, take it in stride. Then, you sit there, sipping you cappucino, waiting for her and reading a book. She arrives, and you chat a bit. Now, it gets weird. Because she and you are on totally different planes, but here and now, everything is just right. And you crack jokes. She laughs. She can see your happiness and you can see her contentedness and you both comment on it. And then....
'Ummm, excuse me,' someone taps you on the shoulder.
You look up, expecting someone to ask for a light, or directions or something. But it isn't. It's Jake.

Ok, I'm coming clean. The girl was me. Hahaha.

Jake was a blockmate in college who people always said looked pretty good despite being very simple. But who was also a "chicker". I never talked to him (except for that one time when we were groupmates for Theology) . Why? Because, I felt by not talking to him, I brought some weird balance to the world. I have this thing about people who I think KNOW that people are after them. People who KNOW that they look good. In my mind, I make the judgement that they are only lesser evil than snobs because they are friendly. But I don't need to be friends with them. Especially becuse they might think I'm one of those people. So I don't. And I didn't with Jake. Ever.

In comes friendster and blogger.

And somehow, we start sending messages. And he calls me suplada. And I laugh it off and say I had my reasons. And I tell him I heard about him being a photographer now and am interested in that myself (I really, really am...just in case you're wondering if this was 'style' haha). He invites me to come with him on shoots, or better yet, go with him when he does his 'Asia Backpacking' tour. I am flattered and honored. But I say thanks, but not this time, I guess, because of two obvious reasons: 1) am in the US, and 2) moolah is not coming in droves. That's where the communication ended. And then, I went home with plans with friends, but none with this ex-blockmate, now-friendster, co-blogger, and idol-photographer.

And then, he tapped me on the shoulder. I felt so exposed to be seen by this photographer (read: scrutinizes visuals) in my gung-ho-DFA-go-go-go attire that I just wanted to disappear into thin air. But as quickly as he appeared, he rushed away to photograph some nice resto and I was left out-of-sorts.

Now, lunch was my okay-that-was-cool-but-get-over-that-coincidental-meeting time. After lunch, I went back to Starbucks to grab a cup of coffee, and sat with my sis on an outside table. Beside our table were girls dressed to kill, with matching make-up to boot, and shades. Sowzy. Pretty.

And they were waiting for Jake.

Now, the world was righted once again. Once again, he was the sought-after, and I had to balance the world. So when I saw him again (yes, same Starbucks...he met the 'models' there), KIBER (for english-spokening-dollars-peoples, that means I ignored him teeheehee).

And I was turning that corner towards 14th street again.
Ah, again, everything is as it should be.

10/08/04 NB: This is not a hate-post against Jake. I'm sure he's a very nice person, amicable, and humble. The proverbial cliche applies here --- "It's not him, it's me." Hahaha. So, Jake, if by any chance you read this (which I'm 99% sure you won't), now you know why I was "suplada" in college. See, I wasn't. :D