After 5 or 6 hours of Rock Band-ing last Friday, I went to the mall with my mom to buy groceries.
I left my mom to do the groceries and roamed for quite some time.
3 new CDs:
*Paris Bennett’s Princess P (WASTE.)
*Paramore’s Riot! (Too much Rock Band-ing)
*Ray Charles’ Genius & Friends (Love.)
1 tub of Ice Cream
1 pack of Soft Batch
5 bags of chips
Necessities for China.
I love. I enjoyed it. Retail Therapy works.
While I was browsing through the CDs, I was surprisingly greeted by my sister with a hug- a huge and sincere hug. Warm fuzzy feeling inside.
I never thought hugs still matter to me. Some people give it too easily that it seems so common; so insignificant. They hug everyone they know so their hugs lose their warmth and sincerity. It comes off as contrived.
But getting that hug from my sister was pure and warm.
When you don’t share your hugs too much, even love for that matter, it matters and means more. When you mean it, I’ll believe it. If you text (or ym) it, I’ll delete it. That sounded like Miley.
Finally, I got a mysterious phone call over the weekend that I wasn’t able to answer at first. It was from a mysterious (alien) number. From abroad, probably, I thought to myself.
Maybe from my dad who’s on vacation in Canada. Or my aunt who frequents China so much that she owns a Chinese SIM. Or my friend who’s on JTA in Japan. Or my friend who’s studying in the USA. Or a friend who's in Qatar. Or any of my cousins around the globe. It could very well be anyone.
“Hello, Dad?” was my greeting when I answered it. Turns out, it wasn’t my dad. It’s my friend who’s on JTA in Japan. He called me up for no reason in particular.
Kumustahan. It was a short phone call but it made my day.
I miss you.
I think I’m better (for now).