Visited KapeTayo along Katipunan Ave. for the first time today. Went for the Barako blend and I asked the barista if it’s possible that she serve my joe in a mug (as I’m not really fond of drinking hot beverages
from paper cups) and she replied in the affirmative. When I got my order, I was quite surprised to see my drink served in a glass mug. (I’m so used to coffee shops using ceramic ones this came unexpected, at least to me.) Anyway, I didn’t
bother to ask if that’s the store rule or they just ran out of the ceramic kind. Regardless, the coffee was really fine. (That’s their “medium” size. They call it “sakto”, meaning “just right”
Why do we have to make things difficult? Isn’t it plain to see that applying fundamentals is the only way to go? On one side, you see a bunch of cocky dribblers attempt to crossover their opponents to death every trip down the floor yet couldn’t
buy a basket most of the time because the ball sticks to a single player for most of the shot clock. On the other, you see a focused group rotating the ball fluidly, setting screens, picks, rolls, finding the easiest opportunity to score, a layup,
a dunk, or an open jumper. Seriously, basketball is an easy sport to win if players stick to fundamentals instead of all those ball-hogging, grandstanding nonsense that a lot of us enjoy doing and glorifying. And please, practice those long-range
shooting. Please! Don’t forget the objective here — putting the ball in the hoop. You don’t get extra points for being fancy.
If there’s one thing I can say about my subconscious, it doesn’t know, or it doesn’t really care, that my mother has passed away for years now. A lot of times in my deep sleep, she’s always there, gracing my dreams with her presence.
Last night’s foray in la-la land was no different. However, I couldn’t place or remember where we were (except that my mother knows where she wants to go) and what the circumstances were, but she wanted me to join her on an errand.
“Anak, come with me to Makati. Let’s take the P2P bus from U.P. Town Center.”
“But, why take the bus? We can use the car, if no one is using it.”
“No. Let’s just ride the bus. I haven’t taken that bus service. I want to experience it.”
That’s my mom indeed. She would insist on something if she truly wants it. I couldn’t remember much the details of our conversation while inside the bus. But it always amuses me that my unconscious self, up to that point, has not yet realized
that I’m talking to someone who is not with me anymore. Made me miss, upon waking up, her simple wisdom and her “I-told-you-so” retorts at me whenever she’s proven right at certain life decisions that I have (“wrongly”)
made. Oh, she’ll always rub it in, at least to me.