So, I was on my way to Greenville, South Carolina. I was dreading it and looking forward to it. I brought along On the Road by Jack Kerouac as some sort of a security thing. I've been crying the whole day again. Up until about an hour before I left for Newark International. That was the lowest low I've felt since I've gotten here.
I mean, I don't get it. Just a few days ago, a Fil-Am dude (so Pinoy-looking) was compelled to walk over to me (so Pinay-looking) to introduce himself at some retail store. And contrary to what my Boston friend thinks, I was dressed appropriately. That should be more than enough to boost my ego. Wrong.
I mean, I don't get it. Just a few days ago, a Fil-Am dude (so Pinoy-looking) was compelled to walk over to me (so Pinay-looking) to introduce himself at some retail store. And contrary to what my Boston friend thinks, I was dressed appropriately. That should be more than enough to boost my ego. Wrong.
I was halfway across America, at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future. -- Jack really had me there.
Such a lonely, small airport they got in Greenville. It didn't help that I got there at about 2340H and my uncle and cousins must've been scared out of their wits I might have gone straight back to Manila.
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