What I picked up on my way to the meat section

Last Sunday, upon the suggestion of the boyfriend I went to the grocery to finally stuff my refrigerator with real food. For the past several months, I’ve been subsisting on carideria take-outs, tapsilog, and noodles. I also lost a spectacular amount of weight, which, I think is good. I no longer have to run twice a week to upset the calories I’ve been imbibing because of constant beer drinking. But I think the weight-loss can also be attributed to the fact that I have two dogs, an actual busy schedule and an entire apartment all to myself, which means that I’m the only one who does all the cleaning. But I digress.

So there I was at the grocery picking up the necessary items: eggs, butter, bread, etc. I was in front of the meat section wondering what to order when I realized that it doesn’t really matter what I pick. It will just rot like the bangus my mother gave me two months ago, which, I just remembered is still inside the freezer. The fact is I don’t know how to cook. And yes, apparently, I don’t know what to do inside the grocery.

Lately, I’ve realized that I actually don’t know a lot of things. I don’t even know how to defrost a refrigerator. The boyfriend had to call a hotline just so he could tell me how to get rid of the two-inch thick ice inside my freezer. I don’t know how to keep my debts in check. Debts have been piling one after another that now I have to take on several jobs all at the same time just so I could have extra money. My finances give me massive headaches (and nightmares), seriously.

And I don’t even know how to paint a wall. A few weeks ago, I borrowed white paint from my brother to cover the garish yellow wall that my X did. I was already at it when I noticed that the paint was too watery. It just wouldn’t stick. And literally, the paint was splattering all over the place, including on my face because apparently I don’t know how to brush properly. There I was in my underwear, white paint dripping on my chest as I stare up at the wall wondering how on earth I became such a moron. I was fucking Sling Blade!

I don’t even know how to take care of my dogs. When Marcel came, I was too busy moping around and thinking of suicide to actually take care of him. Now, he runs around the apartment peeing and defecating everywhere. He struggles when I bathe him and I have to carry him down the stairs every time I take him out for a walk. I practically know nothing about disciplining dogs. I realized that it was the X who really took care of Chichi even though I have always thought that it was I who took care of her. But now, I’m making up for lost time. I was at a friend’s apartment playing with another dog when suddenly I realized that I never saw Marcel grow up. I don’t remember him as a puppy. I could only really see him now when he’s already as big as Chichi. The realization was pretty heartbreaking.

Apparently, I survived most of my adult life because I had people around to help me. I’ve been sort of like a fungus, never really doing things on my own. The only real decisions I make are where to drink and where to eat. Even career decisions were made by friends. I resigned from a noontime show just because a friend asked me to. Last night after apologizing to the boyfriend (for being such an asshole for the last three months), both of us agreed that I need to grow up. I mean, I can’t even manage to be alone in the apartment much less sleep with the lights off (because I’m, um, scared of ghosts). Just because I earn money, live alone, and have been breathing for the last 33 years doesn’t mean I’m an adult. Technically, I’m still a kid, more specifically a 13 year old kid. A 13 year old kid who was not allowed to go out because he looks helpless and lost all the time. And now I need to grow up fast because in a few years or so white hairs will begin sprouting on my head (and on my nose) and when that time comes and I’m still my current self it will be pretty fucking embarrassing. And yes, though I have decided to be an adult, it doesn’t mean that I already know how to become one. But that, my friends, I have to figure out most probably on my own.



Comments

ZaiZai said…
I'm a lot like you Mario, a grown up kid. And it's not so bad, I believe it's the secret to looking young hehe :)
Karlie said…
13 going on 30ish... that's a handful! goodluck bro! if it's any consolation, we're pretty much on the same boat... :)
bwisit! said…
@zai hahaha! yeah, it's ok to be 30 as long as you look like,um, 25? hahaha! pero yun nga lang, i just want to do the right decisions this time. on my own. ma-carry ko sana.

@karlie its tough no? my boyfriend, who is way younger than me, seems more well-adjusted. everybody i know who's in the same age range parang may personal crisis. syndrome ba ito ng mga 90s teens? hahaha!
ZaiZai said…
isipin lang langing mature ka. we attract and we become what we think di ba? ker mo yan! :)
Blakrabit said…
identifying the problem is already half the solution.

Bestof luck to you.. uh.. Mario?

90's teens, yun ba yung mga GenY?
bwisit! said…
@zai kurek!wag lang mag-mukhang mature, right? hahaha!

@blakrabit yeah at least im sane enough to do something about my problems. yup, pasok ata ako sa demographics ng gen y. mga teens na lumaki nung 90s. btw saw your youtube post. kaaliw! hahaha!

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