Hazelton Avenue

I've been in this, uhh, situation for the past four months, and all I can say is this: I need a vacation.

Go on, say it. You've been working at home for the past four months! Why the heck would you still need a vacation? Actually, it's a shallow thought. In the past three weeks I've been looking over the house, while my parents go on not-entirely-for-pleasure trips. Dad brought mom along to Singapore, and my sister somehow tagged along with them. Then dad brought mom to Baguio, and my brother somehow tagged along with them. All throughout, I've been looking after the house, sleeping in the master's bedroom, waking up at six in the morning, and foregoing my morning walk to sweep and mop the house.

I'm becoming a bit of a domestic diva. I haven't perfected the processes yet, but lately I'm feeling a bit more responsible with how things are around the house. I wash the dishes. I remove the dead leaves outside. I water the flowers. I cook my own corned beef omelettes, provided I remember to keep them in the fire rather than flipping it too early. (I know the recipe, but I fail in implementation.) But go on, say it. You should've been doing that a long time ago. I know. I don't have a line for that.

But while I still, somehow, manage to find a sense of fulfillment in my currently meandering life, I still think I should get out more. Sure, it's fun being at home 24/7, but it gets tiring after a while. My existence has reverted to a state never seen since I was a young boy: I go where my parents go. And by that, I don't mean Singapore or Baguio, but my grandparents' house. Apart from that, it's the house, except for the morning walks, where I get to walk around the subdivision. And on weekends, where I get to drive the car to the carwash, also within the subdivision.

Yeah, there's the fact that I now know how to drive, and I'm still earning some money, and in theory I could go out and spend it. I realized that last weekend, when I made plans to go to the mall to buy another set of headphones for my PC - it takes shorter times for them to get busted now - and a few other things. (Read: Glee CD. Latest issue of Q.) I wasn't sure if I'd be allowed, until my dad gave me the go-signal to bring the car, drive it to the mall, and do my supposedly important errands. And my mom was just, "mag-ingat ka sa pagmamaneho, ha?"

It's not my first time to drive by myself. I've done it once, twice, thrice - the last two instances were when my brother found himself in school on a weekend when my parents are meeting with old friends. But this one was different. I'm not going to do anything particularly important. I'm just going to go to the mall and buy some things I feel that I should have. Which means trying to find parking. Which means trying to park the car. In reverse. Which I somehow managed to do. That success - I was so giddy I had to send text messages rto my parents - overshadows the time when I ended up being stuck on a green traffic light when I went home.

It was, oddly, liberating. Maybe it's my mindset. If I can't go to Singapore, then I'll go to the mall. Sure, there's little variety in the CDs they sell, and Alabang isn't exactly the most exciting place to be in, but it's still some alone time. Me having a plan, walking around, making decisions, choosing things - I feel I have control over my life, or at least the money I spend.

But in the end, my mindset says an hour spent buying future trash doesn't cut it. The thing with my situation is, I'm pretty much isolated. Sure, I spent most of the past three years talking to people online, but at least there's still a chance to talk to them in person. Right now my personal interactions are limited to family, and while I know they're going to be with me until I die, it's starting to bore me.

I was having a conversation (on Twitter, of course) with Alyssa earlier. She was going on about having a theater workshop tonight, straight from work. Of course, that means she's sleepy. At least, she says, she's getting some sleep - twelve hours straight on the weekends - and that it's better to lose some sleep than be stuck at home. Of course that hit me. I want to say it didn't hit me badly, but it did, and not because of the usual "why them, not me?" argument I'm so used to floating. This is Alyssa, the girl who's somehow goading me to attend some gigs, partly because Tonet has been goading her to goad me to attend some gigs. I know the former from college; the latter, from my years as a radio geek - and somewhere along the way, they met. And I've met neither. And I realize that I'm in a pretty bad position if I want to stay sane.

To my credit, I've long had some meet-ups planned. That meet-up with Gwen, for one, isn't still happening. January? It's April now, and we haven't talked about it. I'm not sure if she's still interested, either. So much for me thinking that, if it does happen, I'll be driving to the rendezvous and look stupid while parking the car. Maybe ask her to park for me. Oh, that'd be a shame. But whatever. The thing with being isolated is, I've got too much time to figure out whether the friendships I have now are still worth an invitation to coffee - if they're still worth sticking with. I'm making progress, if you'd call it progress.

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