coca-cola normal (for one, please)

Life is too short for diet coke. That's why I order regular coke, lovingly called Coca-Cola Normal by my favorite bartender in Barcelona - an unusually gloomy old man who speaks absolutely no English and frowns at tourists like me.

* * * *

Anyway, today is my alone day. I get to do things only I seem to enjoy all by myself, without a boyfriend or a friend. There's no noise to filter out. I can hear only my own thoughts, and I kind of like it.

One of the many things I enjoy doing alone is eating. Most people - women, especially - can't bear to walk into a restaurant and sit alone. Me? I love it. Eating is a sensory experience that can be enjoyed with or without company, much like masturbation, don't you agree?

And so here I am, waiting for my Malaysian hawker food. Manila has become so cosmopolitan. You can find almost every dish you have ever tasted abroad right here, in a freaking mall, of all places.

My Coca-Cola Normal sits here waiting to be opened, enjoyed with the peanuty taste of satay and nasi goreng.

* * * *

A while ago, I watched L'Heure d'Ete (Summer Hours), which was a French film about a family making sense of the objects that their dead mother left behind. It was a story I could relate to, having been through the grueling process of selling the house I gave my dead mother, sorting through objects she left behind, and having to decide - without a clear criteria - what should continue to exist. The process was traumatic but ultimately cathartic.

It was like forcing her life - and my life - into a spreadsheet and then deleting cells until everything added up.

* * * *

Some people cannot bear to be alone because they can't stand their own company. Lucky for me, I'm an amusing person. I can entertain myself much better than I thought.