J. Pyo

I've never known him to be a sad person. Nobody ever did. Of all my friends, he was the one that had the biggest smile, his zest for life was that of a chid's - always excited and vulnerable.

In the years that I've known him, from early college through adult life, we have considered each other to be best buddies. From his first heartaches to my first flunked subjects, from dwindling allowances to crazy drunken nights, we stood by like eternal youths - just always there, going our way with the tides. A few years from college, when he got married and I wasn't invited, I didn't talk to him for a year. When he and his wife separated, I told him it was cursed from the beginning because I wasn't there when they wed. He was one of the first few whom I told I was a lesbian. And he asked me in his incredulous disbelief, "Are you sure? I always thought you had secret feelings for me!" Crazy bastard.

Work took him to far places but we stayed in touch through the years. We would see each other during vacations and try to catch up on tsismis and random memories. But most of the real conversations we've had in recent years was done online. I work nights and because of the time difference from where he worked, this works out pretty well. We have had the most profound discussions on how to shave his private parts properly. He also shared how his dream of owning a piece of farm has slowly come to fruition. We've had incessant debates about why he hasn't found a permanent relationship yet. And we've also discussed just how serious we are in getting him to be a sperm donor for my partner sometime in the future. 

In the last few weeks before his death, the conversations became a little quiet. It wasn't unusual - we've had episodes of random busy-ness that we attribute to work or other trivial things, but we've always gone back to the chatroom when it was time to breathe. He never came back online again. He never breathed again.

I've never known him to be a sad person. But maybe I'm using the wrong adjective here. Maybe it was beyond sadness that got to him. Or maybe it was not even that. They say he left a note. Oh what I would do to know of his last thoughts.

Did I really know him? Did I abandon him in some way? Could I have done anything? I'm sure these questions ran through not just on my mind, but on all the people who loved him that were left behind. Its been a few months, but there are occasions such as tonight when I find myself itching to chat with my best buddy, and I am filled with pain and grief just remembering how easy it used to be. Life was never complicated, he used to say.

To this day, I still have not understood what happened. Maybe I never will. And the biggest irony of all is that the only person who can make a complete explanation of it all has now decided to keep quiet forever.

B

There are all sorts of friends in this world. As antisocial as I might have become today, I can say I have had my fill of many kinds back when I was younger. Back when I was wilder. Back when I was friend -lier.

I won't be talking today about the kinds of friends I have or have had.  No. But I will talk to  you about the kind of friend I was. The kind of friend I am. And the kind of friend I want to be.

I was a party animal. Fun was when I was around and when my friends were with me. We went to the rowdiest bars where we out danced everyone on the dance floor. We guzzled up beers like there was no tomorrow. We sang the loudest karaoke and drove the noisiest car in college. And we got picked up by the police a few times for breaking a rule here and there.

We skipped classes just so we can drink coffee under the rain.

We told stories late into the night, night after night - every single night. And we talked some more into the day just because the world was about us and no other else.

We drove into the future like the wind was behind us.

And yes, it was a short span of time, just a measly couple of years in college. But the memories we had then, have lasted a lifetime.

Today, we are mostly scattered around the world, but some things have remained. We talk about nothing and everything. Or chat, if I were to be technical about it. We still laugh at each other.But more importantly, we still laugh at the world together. Most recently, we have been crying together. Missing old friends. Grieving for lost friends.

Sometimes we chat and couldn't continue not because we don't have anything to say to each other but because we know the other one is sighing somewhere. Or breathing, just letting things be, feeling each other's presence from halfway round the world - in silence.

Sometimes I think that these are signs of times. We've grown. Do I mind? No. because we've grown together, and sometimes, that's all that matters.

They say if you've been friends for at least 8 years, chances are you'll be friends for life. I don't need that statistic to know that I have found the friends I will keep. It has been quite a road, filled with joy and madness. When we counted memories with thorns and flowers. Life has been good, despite all its shenanigans.

Thank you.
I'm sure my proud, haughty friends know who they are. 

Maybe. Maybe Not.

Sometimes I lay in bed in the wee hours and stare at the clock facing my bed. I watch each second turn into the next and this goes on for a bit of time until  I get sleepy enough to want to go back to lala land. Most of the time, I drift back off, but on other occasions, I let the ticking seconds guide me into the sunrise.


Every weekend these last few months,  as soon as my body feels it has rested quite enough, it wakes my mind and tells my eyes to stare at the clock. Every weekend.


Its not a bad thing actually. I even look forward to it sometimes. These days, everything is just so good that I can afford to spend a few good hours each week just savoring the quiet buzzing in my head. As of late, I have been in a state of balance wherein things, places and people are moving by at a pace that I want them to. The birds are chirping in my window. The sunlight passes through my curtains in just the right angles. The music is both rich and quiet in my ears. And my heart has been calm. The mind is quiet.


This piece of corner has been witness to a lot of ups and downs of this writer. At the moment, this one's a plateau. Do I prefer it any other way? Maybe. Maybe not. Remember that line I used to always say about movies and ice cream? Maybe I really shouldn't always  be asking  too much about why I have kept on searching.  Maybe the movie and ice cream are enough. Maybe. Maybe not.

At Work at 3 in the Morning

This is a product of a boredom. I should be doing something else.
I want a job that can challenge my mind.
For about 3 years now, I have been sitting each worknight, staring at my screen with sheer boredom.
Zzzzzz.
The quick brown fox jumped over the back of the lazy dog.
 Dog lazy the of back the over jumped fox brown quick the.
Why am I wasting my life in this craphole? Yes, I have a job that pays the bills, for services I may not even need if I didn’t have to work. See what I did there?
I work to earn my keep to continue working. It’s a very, very nasty cycle.
I just want to go home and watch TV all day. Or maybe sleep the whole day.
Yeah, I should sleep more often. I never get enough sleep these days.
 I wake up every day so I can spend most of it wasting away.
Now my weekends are a different thing altogether.
 My Saturdays and Sundays are sacred. Aside from myself and family, I do not want to spend these 2 days with anyone else.
You think I should quit my job? Yes, most definitely. But do what? I've never done anything else. And nor do I know anything else that pays as much.
Aah, grown-up problems.
I wish I could just quit everything right away and not endure the consequences.
Or maybe if I had a remote control that would let me pause myself while everything and everyone else around just goes on. You know?