Future is Orange?

The moment you start buying things--like puffy pillows, a table lamp, matching orange bed sheets and pillow cases, a tangerine candle, and your own cabinet--for your small area in a staff crib, only tells one thing, that you are getting ready for the long haul.


The day I got my measly allowance I was so happy despite being several thousand riyals away from my expected income. I was so happy in fact that I started to buy stuff. When the cashier billed me I was over my budget for subtle shopping. Then it dawned on me why I was spending so much so soon.

The puffy pillows, the orange sheets, the candle. These are symbols of my acceptance, that I am going to be here for quite some time.

Along with it came other thoughts. When I go out I don't even bring my bag anymore nor do I check the map once in a while to see if the taxi is not driving me in circles. In short, I've become a resident.

Of course it takes more than these things to make this place a home. It's far from being one. But we do what we can and hopefully each whiff of that tangerine candle will take me back home even in dreams.

Incidentally tonight the boss asked me to photocopy something and tonight I caught a glimpse of my contract. The offer looks promising on paper. Everything I have hoped for was in that five-page black-and-white, a short document that represents my life. It is yet to be seen though if it will take effect as stated. If everything goes as the script says, then the future looks orange...or does it? OUT.

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Nostalgia on the Second Month Part Two

I was already reminiscing when my mom caught me on YM. She told me to expect my cousin Roni online. Wow, I thought, I ordered for a plate of nostalgia and the gods gave me a bucket.

I haven't heard from Roni for quite some time now. She (and her family) is one of the best relatives that I have.

In no time I found myself chatting with my cuz. We exchanged blasts from the past as if we haven't seen each other for decades (which is, by the way, true). I told her that my greatest influence for my chosen career was her family and their video shop biz White House.

I remember spending summers or Christmases at their house when I was not more than ten or twelve. One Christmas they let me taste wine. It was my first time and boy was it a classy selection, Dom Pérignon! Back then I would envy my cousins' rather rich lifestyle. I also wanted to have a house with a lawn so I can also raise a golden labrador. I also wanted to have a swimming pool so I can swim all day long, heck, all week if I wanted to. Most of all, I wanted to have a brand new Betamax Player and a color television so I can borrow movies for free and watch to my heart's content.

My early exposure to movies probably stirred my imagination and I owe it all to Roni and Mylo who bumped the Looney Tunes for Zapped! But it wasn't just the movies. They also introduced me to fiction. Thanks to them I discovered the Choose Your Own Adventure series. The pocket books blew me away because of their unique structure, you get to decide which path in the story to take thus giving you control of the turn of events because after all, it's your own adventure. Soon after, I bought my own CYOA books and found out that even with the freedom to choose I still found it limiting. And that's how I was inspired to really write. I think.

I miss my cuz and I miss the innocence of our youth (I can remember though we were little devils really!) In any case, I'm glad that even if I haven't seen her for ages I can still feel the warmth. It must be because Roni, Mylo and I just clicked. Or it could be because of a special bond.

Until now I still wish to own a house with a pool and a lawn where I can teach my golden retriever new tricks. And every Christmas or New Year, family and relatives will all get together as our parents did when we were small and this time, we will not just taste the Dom Pérignon but we will get drunk on it.

I can still taste the wine. It was my first. Bitter but sweet, a kiss from an angel. I can still taste it on my lips. OUT.

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Nostalgia on the Second Month Part One

It was bound to happen. The sleepless nights, stressful work days, irritability, longingness, regret and wonderment--it can all be summed up in one word: menstruation.

Got you there! Seriously, it's homesickness. I admit it. Today I feel homesick.

Two months. The fun's over. I've exhausted all there is to see in my guide book and tourist mode just doesn't work anymore. For the past few weeks I started to feel more and more local each day. And each day the chats with my friends became less and less. Now, I just feel empty.

So I thought I'd feed my misery by listing some things that I miss most. And it starts with...

• You, yes you. I miss you.
• I miss waking up late in my own room and knowing that even if it's already 10AM it doesn't matter because I am my own boss and I won't have to make up lame excuses why I'm late.
• I miss waking up early and cooking breakfast.
• I miss singing in videoke bars.
• I miss singing in the bathroom.
• I miss dancing when I'm alone in my room.
• I miss Coffee Crumble at Bo's.
• I miss driving.
• I miss cruising.
• I miss my CDs, VCDs, DVDs....and VDs (hahaha I'm kidding!)
• I miss piracy.
• I miss Spike and Tiny.
• I miss the fact that I can go where I want to go at any time without worrying of getting lost.
• I never thought I'd say this but I miss doing big cart groceries and yes, every week.
• I miss the food. Oh the food.
• I miss Bacolod, my friends there and the food. Oh the food.
• I miss seeing regularly dressed people.
• I miss wearing shorts to work.
• I miss my computer and all the necessities that I have already installed.
• I miss editing videos.
• I miss video production work.
• I miss the creative rush.
• I miss my nephew.
• I miss meeting my friends and talking over coffee.
• I miss durian.
• I miss turo-turo or point point.
• I miss each little aspect of my life in Davao, from my favorite Pink Panther to my loved ones, because all these make up one thing I miss most...
• I miss my home.

Enough. I can go on forever and if I don't stop soon it's really going to fall and if you can still remember before I left Davao, I promised not to cry again. OUT.

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Night of "Coincidences"

There comes a time when you realize that everything falls into place.
And maybe there is somthing you can do about it, but maybe no
matter what you do, you still end up doing what has already been
set for you the day you were born.

I was sitting silently at the back of my boss' Pajero when I noticed
the digital clock on the dashboard as it added a minute more to the
already late hour. It's officially 2:01 am.

We were parked outside a convenience store in a district that was
at least 45 minutes away from Doha proper and the three of us in
the car were patiently waiting for the guy who sat beside me as he
bought some bread and milk.

I was lost in thought while observing the fog outside build up
across the vast expanse of the industrial area. It's the closest to
a desert I have ever been to in Qatar and the night was almost
perfect. The dim district made the stars look brighter, illuminating
the fog as it crept through the darkness. Just then, the empty seat
beside me caught my attention. There was a book, a thin one. I
read the note about the author on the back cover and was pleasantly
surprised. I have met the author a few weeks ago and he is by far
the most interesting adult I have met here. At first I thought he's
Sudanese but then he spoke excellent English. I didn't know then
that he wrote books, all I knew about Dr. Bilal Philips was that he
was passionate about Islam. My first encounter with him ended
with him giving me a book "Life of Mohammad" of which he said I
should take time to read. I did and in one sitting.

The guy who owned the book in the car finally came back. A few
minutes later we dropped him off at his house. It was only on our
way back home when the "coincidences" made sense to me. Could
this night be a sign? Then the questions started to come as if
answering each question with a question.

Why would the boss invite me to a late dinner with his friends when
I don't even speak Arabic? Why did it take us too long to finish dinner?
Why did we arrive just a minute after the bus left the station making
the boss' friend miss the last trip home? Why did the boss opt to drive
him home even it was already past 1am and the guy's house was way
out in the desert? Why didn't he just take a cab? Why did we have to
stop by the convenience store when we were already tired to make
stopovers? Why was boss' friend carrying a book and why did he leave
it when he went inside the store? Why did I read the cover? And why
did it have to be Dr. Bilal Philips, the same person who asked me to
know more about Islam? And more importantly, why am I connecting
all of these incidents as a sort of possibility that the events that occured
were "signs"?

Just as that last question filled my head, the boss turned on the radio.
Quran-reading filled the otherwise silent car. Now tell me if I'm just
overreacting. I smiled and looked at the window and as if the humor
won't stop, we passed by a mosque. That was then when I challenged
whatever or whoever was playing a trick on me. I said to myself that if
I see two more mosques before we reach the city proper, I would
definitely consider this "sign" as worth meditating over.

Not long after the first mosque, another mosque appeared. Only one more
mosque and I am going to blog about this, I thought then.

The city lights were drawing near and we're almost at the city proper
roundabout. And there it was to my left, a humble looking mosque standing
serenely beautiful in the starry night sky. Although you probably know
already because I'm blogging about it now.



(Al Wakra Mosque - Industrial District)

I lost the challenge. But to what or whom I don't know. I am more cautious
now because it's not fun when fate plays a practical joke on you. Or is it a joke
in the first place? Now I'm even beginning to wonder if I came here to Doha
to earn money or earn something else, dare I say it, a spirituality.

For now, that single night remains one of the most meaningful "coincidences"
that came my way. My eyes are open and my ears will listen.

Part of me calls it a bluff but there's also a part of me that wonders if the
last mosque I saw that night was also beautiful inside. OUT.

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A Twist Off Orange

Buzz. I would just like to inform you that I've added a new color to my palette. I love writing here in Orange but I needed another color for the more private stuff that only a select few are privileged to read. So if you feel you are one of the select few but whom I have forgoten to include in the invites, please leave in the comment field your name and email address.

I'm still maintaining this blog so keep on checking this spot for updates.

Thanks for reading. OUT.

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