Hi. Do listen to me rant. 

Three weeks ago, I was slumped at the butt end of our family Sportivo wondering when and where the next pit stop will present itself. I didn’t sign up for this shit. Thankfully (and oddly enough) I wasn’t all that cranky on top of all the bickering I have pocketed from both of my parents the nights prior to the trip.

(The thought that I’ve pawned them throughout the affair might have been the reason for this—I have hurled onto them mighty sound arguments that the only thing they could do in the end was cram a lousy SHUT UP to my face and hiss at me. I’m not in any way mocking them behind their backs, no. I just find their knee-jerking too amusing. Lol. I don’t know. Maybe I’ve rattled them with the way I was so composed back then.)

(It was a pretty interesting chain of verbal brawls, mind you, but I’d rather not discuss it now. Maybe sometime I would, if I get to scrape up enough agitation to.)

Besides that, there are a shit ton of other reasons why I disliked the idea of going on a trip to Bicol... and having to do so in their company.

For one, I have already declared that I have no intention of joining them. Doing otherwise would really suck as I have had the need to earn their respect given my previous actions. Lol. And nej, this ain’t a matter of pride. It’s more on safeguarding my dignity.

Also, the last time I was there I had nothing to do but warm the couch. I potato-ed. For someone so animated (or so at least I believe I am), I couldn’t, for the life of me, put up with that again.

Still, I’m not the man of the house, and sadly, the whole household had to submit itself to the interest of that who bears the iron fist.

Or die.

(De joke.)

(But still. I’d assume you’d caught my drift.)

And so I had to take it like a bitch.


All these fretting aside, though, I still presume that the world is not going to run out of good thingamajigum, and, being the cheerful shit that I am, I counted on that. So don’t round me off as a misanthropic fuck yet.

Somehow I managed to find stuff to take joy in: food, frivolous toddlers, being surrounded by nothing but trees, silly farm animals, silly dogs, more food, the ocean, traditional chocolate tablea, bukayo (!), and souvenir hoarding, among others.

Be that as it may, I suppose that feeling so morally beat, along with being sort of obligated to—surprise, surprise—bum around, yet again, was too strong a downer for me to get myself high on those stuff.

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