Where the lost souls go

Lately I’ve been sick and the never-ending issues we have at home (we never seem to run out of them, if only they were convertible to cash) are getting to me. I don’t want to confront my problems and sort things out right now, not when I’m sick and tired and weak and sore all over. I don’t want to have anything to do with them. All I ever want and seem to do is either sleep to pass the time or do something else that would help me take my beautiful mind off of things. So I went on an enlightening spiritual pilgrimage of sorts. To the mall. Where all lost souls like me go to find themselves.

I don’t know about you but whenever I’m sick (or feel somewhat like it) I find it twice as hard to cope and deal with things I’ve become used to dealing with, things I can normally swallow whole with little effort, without so much as batting a well-curled eyelash. It usually takes the best of me just for me to deal with the things I deal with, and when I’m sick and just can’t be at my best, I find it so hard and draining to put up a good fight and do what I have to do. There really are times when you can’t help but just, well, helplessly look on as your defenses crumble to the ground, the walls you’ve learned to put up around you collapsing to nothing but dust and debris, and life just gets to you when you’re least ready for it. Whenever that happens I don’t face life, I choose to turn away and run from it, promising like the great General MacArthur that I shall return soon.

The past week my joints were aflame and I pretty much just stayed home on a solitary confinement of sorts and contemplated on things and wrote and wrote and wrote (except on Monday, since it was a national holiday and I decided I’d have a break too). I was drinking painkillers like they were harmless little vitamins and punching more holes through my stomach. And then if I wanted to hurt myself more than I already was just staying awake and keeping perfectly still, I would try walking around the house while holding on to whatever sturdy piece of furniture I could get my hands on, all the while gasping to catch a breath. Needless to say I missed my review classes too. But Friday was the day of reckoning. It was the day all the planets aligned and the stars conspired and all three malls in the city where I’m from were to start their three-day sales. I was not going to miss it for the world.

So Friday was the first day I’d step anywhere outside the house in like three days. From the suburbanish wilderness where I’m from it would take around half an hour to get downtown. No matter. The house isn’t half as entertaining as the mall, you know. And the mall, despite the noise and the big crowds, isn’t even half as chaotic and stressful as the house either. Nevermind that my wrist and some fingers were still a bit sore despite the analgesics I’d put myself on. I was going to buy things and forget things. I went north and entered the mall in that part of the city, heading first to the second floor and buying myself my favorite brew of banana, pineapple and mango shake, my delicate throat parched with all the traveling under the noontime heat. I looked around a bit then decided nothing interested me, so I decided to move on to the next mall, where I was sure I’d get something. I had been window-shopping. Then I remembered I was supposed to have lunch with college friends at some karinderya outside the university’s integrated school. Cheap steak and greasy spareribs always have people coming back for more. I boarded a jeepney and, not really getting off where I was supposed to, somehow lost my way and went on an unintentional joyride. In the same small city I’ve lived in for the past 22 years of my life.

After lunch my friends and I walked around, dropping by some stores and boutiques around the university, the same ones we’d linger around in back when we were still fresh-faced students. And then we all went together to the mall downtown, the one near the bay area. I wasn’t prepared for what I’d see. It seemed like everyone from the city (and then maybe some who lived just outside it) stopped whatever it was they were doing, dropped whatever it was they had their hands on and all went there in throngs. Tsk, tsk. Indeed times are tough. People pounce on every chance they get at getting things at a cheaper, discounted price. They only seem to come out to buy the stuff they like but don’t really need once they’re already marked down (and quite possibly past their shelf life). You can see it in their eyes, their seething want, their burning desire, and their despair to get the things they want but otherwise cannot afford to buy. I’ve never been a wise buyer. I don’t like the feeling of being deprived.

We went around, trying our best to stick close to each other as one would’ve easily been abducted or kidnapped in the midst of such a terribly thick crowd. I bought sunglasses and some more tee shirts, as if the ones I already had at home stacked in mountainous heaps were still not yet enough. We somehow made it through and found our way to a fast food restaurant, eating even more greasy food. When you’re with good friends, laughing and chatting and reminiscing the past, you tend to overlook even dangerous stuff like that. The day ended with me lugging around a big, cumbersome plastic container, one I bought to store all the new clothes I’d been buying in. I struggled finding a seat big enough for both me and the big, cumbersome container in the jeepneys that would take me home. Still, I got home. And the issues I wanted to forget were still there to greet me by the doorstep. They had not gone anywhere. But I still didn’t want to face them.

So I went to the mall again yesterday. I knew there’d be lots of people there (I was there the day before and saw it with my own two eyes), so I made sure I looked as best as I could. Not like anyone would notice (actually there were some who did, bless them), but I wanted to feel good about myself. So I wore a graphic tee shirt, a nice vest, a pair of green skinny jeans, my favorite yellow and green sneakers that I bought years ago, back when I was still in college, and a yellow and black scarf ominously tied like a noose around my neck. Lo and behold, all the people who were there the day before seemed to have returned that day, and this time they brought their neighbors and relatives with them. The mall was crammed full like a tin can of sardines in Spanish oil. I pushed my way around and soon had the usual bittersweet iced mocha in one of the mall’s coffee shops, a small pocket of peace in the wide ocean of chaotic crowds that flocked to the mall’s three-day August sale. They all hurriedly passed me by to watch some locally televised quizbee onstage at the mall’s events center and maybe look around and buy stuff as well. Somehow, the coffee shop was my refuge in the middle of all the madness. I sat there, looking around every now and then and then getting a headache each time, constantly stirring the chocolate syrup that had settled at the bottom of the cup with the black straw to keep myself somewhat busy and not so distracted by all the people marching along in platoons, people who wanted to forget things, people who were burdened just like me and wanted to cheer themselves up a bit watching other people pass them by. Soon I took out a big notebook from my bag and started to scribble stuff down, most of which is what you’re reading now. My cellphone had run out of memory with all the things I was writing down and storing there and my attempts at writing on tissue paper proved futile and rather unattractive.

I tried to stay for as long as I could in that café, afraid that the moment I step outside I’d be swept away to some faraway corner by all the people stampeding like herds of feral African wildebeests on migration. There was just too many of them. But my iced mocha could only last so long, even if I tried my best to sip it as slowly as I could.

Despite the physical harassment and sheer annoyance of going there at a weekend sale, I still adore the mall. Instead of worrying about all the things I constantly worry about, I was constantly fighting to save my dear life, struggling to keep myself from suffocating, or getting hopelessly lost, or falling to the (dirty, dirty) floor and getting stepped on and crushed to a rather grim and unsightly death by the hundreds of people walking around. At least I had my mind on something else, on other less life altering things, and I wasn’t just brooding and sulking and moping around, thinking about my life and its many depressing complications. It’s where all the lonely people go to chase away their loneliness. And maybe haggle a bit for a good bargain, too. I ended up buying fuchsia pink briefs and a brown and red cardigan every self-respecting senior citizen should have stored with the moth balls in his closet. The things boredom makes you buy.

With so many worries to free one’s mind from, the mall is indeed a good place to go to. Only that when you go home, the worries haven’t gone away and are still there waiting for you.