Cocina Juan and Katipunan

Dinner with Jamie at Cocina Juan along Maginhawa was uneventful because, I think, we were both disappointed that Jacyn had been unable to tag along.

After a full week recuperating at home, I was glad to find that journeying--the act of moving through space into an unfamiliar place--needn't require days of planning. The outing to Maginhawa was well-timed. If there were places in which I could meander in my city, I would but I only have Katipunan Avenue at ten on a Friday evening in April.

I was wearing a shirt that hung loose more than it clung to me, despite the humidity. The python on my shoulder ached whenever my skin prickled at each sting of--yes--memory. So as much as I loved the view and the lights and the thrill of discovery, I tried not to look, to watch, or to see (because yes each is different and distinct). Self preservation, first and foremost. Journeying had brought me this far without ever having removed me from a physical place, it had taken me into an entirely different life but the paths my own imagination traveled last night were well-worn.

I felt strong (and it's been the longest time since I've felt so capable, if not a little daunted and unambitious; strength, I realized, didn't come from ambition as much as it came from discipline; I keep finding myself at the beginning of paths and longer roads).

Listening to Jamie with all her new projects, I felt overwhelmed and excited (read: giddy) for her and, as is always the case in the company of my friends, I felt at once drawn out and pushed in (the pull to reveal my own plans as they had formed almost organically and without previous vocalization; the push to retreat and reevaluate the potential and benefits and challenges). For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel inadequate even as I was able to count my own projects in my hands. I only felt the long, slow simmer of the stories in my belly. I have to write them out and write them down but I know the first step is, always, to read more.

The tabletops at Cocina Juan were marble tiles and after Jamie remarked on the quality of their craftsmanship (wala na yung grout), my natural reaction was to look beneath the loose piece. We found four--five?--pieces of paper tucked beneath the tiles and the decision to add to the small collection was unanimous. There's something about the act of contribution. I plan on returning in a few months.

"You should settle down. But, no babies, ha!"

Update: 

1. I have decided to set aside the entire weekend for revisions and readings but I have to get Rear Window out of the way first. 
2. I don't have a strong enough plot for the hand she was dealt and I want it to be, if anything, a successful and convincing story, first. Maybe that's why I can't write it out? 
3. I am beginning to understand this about myself: I take a long time to begin and to end. I am slow and I am hoping, only, to understand why.