blogger, The Bad Stuff

Somebody That I Used to Know

No, this is not a post about that shitty song that everybody knows. Nor is this an appreciation of how that song has influenced me in writing a blog with the same title as that song. I just happen to like ill-fitting titles.

Today I was typing away on to my laptop for a list of companies that I could work for while watching disc one of A Very Long Engagement (Jean-Pierre Jeunet and yes it’s a vcd.). While the wifi wasn’t working that much well, I realized that I shouldn’t waste my time staring at the screen with that little cursor working its way to hypnotize me. And so I took out a book I’m currently reading, A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemmingway. I’m now at the chapter entitled Ford Madox Ford and the Devil’s Principle while my laptop was charging, the coffee I ordered was getting cooler, and while my phone was also charging as it waits for a message from my love.

Meanwhile as I fidget away I noticed a stout man come into the coffee shop. He had blonde hair, blue eyes and thick-rimmed glasses which sat on the bridge of his nose just as comfortable as birds perch on trees. He walked into the shop with a natural grin on his face. More importantly, he seemed familiar to me as I was a regular of this mall I’m in now.

Before he would even exchange the stare I was making through my peripherals, I stared back at the heavily unloaded web page for my 15,000 emails. I knew then where I knew him. He was a regular in this mall. And believe me, it’s like I’ve grown along with this mall so most of the time I recognize people whom I know have been visiting this mall like they too have grown along with this mall.

This is what landmarks and buildings do to you. Just like how certain mountains and trees are to people who live in the province. Or what we idiots in the city call “uncivilized” places. You grow to know that there are certain fascinations inside a landmark like this. If you’re the kind of person who isn’t used to change, you would probably complain to people you know that this certain store had been replaced by something fancy and useless. Meanwhile, if you’re a newcomer at this place you wouldn’t even care that that store had just replaced a wonderful hub to others. And if you’re used to change, why would you even care if it got replaced?

And so the American had come into the shop, glanced at me typing friskily on my laptop while Audrey Tatou had just met an American who happens to be speaking French and in a French role. He had earphones on and was bobbing his head all of a sudden. That I don’t care about. What I care about was if he would remember me or not.

My memory of this man wasn’t at all bad. He was, in fact, pleasant. I used to work for an American-owned fast food chain on this same mall where I was selling ice creams and sodas on the rocks with ice cream swirls on top (it was called ‘Float’ due to the effect it was portraying with the soda and the ice cream. Not worth mentioning was the loaded ice needed to make it float.). He was a regular customer. Whenever he was in the mall he’d drop by and buy a cone of ice cream. Mostly with dip, often without. He was always so pleasant and I’ve never seen him with his wife (I was guessing it was a Filipina, otherwise, he may have been here in the Philippines just to enjoy the weather.) whom he may have met online. I’ve always seen American men who would stroll the mall along with their Filipina wives. You would often tell that they find us very exotic. But what would I care about other people’s preferences anyway?

And so he had ordered a coffee. Sat [luckily] in the couch across my table where the charger for my laptop had been plugged in. And then he was bobbing strangely to the tunes he was listening loudly on his iPod. He was pointing up in the air like he was listening to Nelly or something.

Does he recognize who I am? I’m scared he might’ve and ask me weird questions.

But I guess not. Suddenly a woman in a pink hair came in along with a blond kid with brown eyes. She sat across him and the little girl had kissed him on the cheek. Thank goodness he doesn’t recognize me at all. I may have forgotten that pleasant customer image on my mind and change seats.


Where Have I Been

First of all, I would like to apologize to you, my fellow reader for being in hiatus for half a year. I haven’t updated this blog in a long time that I do not even know why I am here (why am I here again? Can you remind me?). To end this long term hiatus, I would like to thank you, whoever you are reading this blog. I don’t know why you keep comin’ back (or why you’ve decided to click on this link) but I would like to give you a hug in person, or just give you those thank you coupons where I am entitled to give you something back.

Alright, I’ll stop saying thanks now. But still, thanks a bunch. I won’t promise you loads of information about my whereabouts though, or photos of nude women (you prick!), I will promise to give you more information about movies (like I try to always do), people (in general), things (like knitting and food), and anything under the fire tree (like the name of this blog suggests).

So again, thank you. Hope to be hearing back from you again. Yes, even you you little spammer.