Losing
How is it possible to lose an earring, a hair clip worth $14, and a sweater in just one trip?
It seems like I don’t know myself anymore. I am a pack rat. At least that was who I was before I turned into this monster. Huh! What a misleading statement…
I can’t sleep every time I lose something, but why am I still losing a lot? This has never happened to me before.
When I was 7 years old, we went to McDonald’s for a lazy lunch. My brother and I climbed up to the playplace, where a net full of balls should make any kid happy. I wasn’t. But I pretended to have fun when suddenly, a kid pushed too hard by a playmate that he fell right on me, knocking me down. I felt like I was drowning. I hated that feeling. I have feared drowning ever since I knew water existed. But what made me panic that day was that I heard a clicking snap by my right ear. When the kid got up without even saying sorry and continued his insane happiness towards the presence of stupid small balls, I touched my ear. And there I found the dreaded truth: my earring had fallen off.
I didn’t know what to do — it’s a big net! And it’s full of multi-colored balls! With kids jumping around frantically! I knew my Mother would be very, very upset if she finds this one out. So, no matter how much I hated acting, I faked a wailing cry. I cried so loud, all the kids in the net stopped and looked at me. And then I got my chance to really scour for my lost earring. It didn’t last long. 2 minutes was all I needed to find my earring. Believe it or not. My Mother and Aunt were laughing about it. I was just relieved.
As an adult, I expected more from myself: a turned-on responsibility bone. But it turned out, I grew worse from who I was. 18 years since the cheap earring incident at McDonald’s, I have just realized — it wasn’t just turned off, I’ve actually lost my responsibility bone. In August 2005 in Sacramento, my favorite pair of earrings just evaporated into thin air. Well, not exactly: I was hating my aunt for entering a well-paid room to snoop around, so I turned the place into a flea market without a place to walk on. It was partly because I was lazy, and I can’t do my laundry but every 2 months, things piled up. One thing led to another and, voila! A full-blown evacuation camp. Then I lost my earrings in that camp. What was I supposed to do? Clean up and let my aunt barge in again any time she wants to? No way! I know my earrings are somewhere in that camp so I knew I was okay. I tried looking for the pair of earrings in partitioning the room into small areas while still keeping it to look like, well, an evacuation camp. I didn’t find them.
After some time, I needed to wash some of my clothes. Not because I don’t have anything else to wear but because I wanted to wear those that I’ve already worn. So I did. I hand-washed them in the bathroom. When it was time to wash my silk sleepwear, I placed it on the sink while I was singing to a K’s Choice tune. And for no reason at all, I took it off the sink again, and there it was… one of the missing pair of earrings. I was ecstatic! It could’ve been orgasmic if I could see any trace of the other earring. But it wasn’t there. It was nowhere to be found. I’ve already looked through the sleepwear thoroughly, and used a lot of resourceful devices to scrutinize the sink. No dice. Loss number 1.
Hopes for my beautiful earring was already drained down the same sink when I packed each thing a pack rat has got to pack. I was moving to a friend’s place: Jen.
One evening, we went to a club to go dancing. It was my birthday. I had my new butterfly clip on to pull my hair away from my face and my very cute white sweater which my Mom bought from somewhere really good that I can’t remember. We were dancing the night away with friends and booze. I took off my clip coz it’s getting in the way and clipped it on my sweater. And then a guy flirted a little. Not even. Maybe just wanted to talk and socialize. It was okay. But I ended up feeling misled about the Air Force so I got disappointed. I went to the bathroom. I was drunk, and apparently screaming "Liar! Liar!" My friends brought me home. I was asleep in the car, they said, when I jumped up and asked them where my sweater was coz I’m cold.
Lyn told me they were too concerned with me that they forgot about whatever I had with me that night. I fell back into my seat. Sad. Loss numbers 2 and 3.
2006, less than a year after this happened, I flew from Texas to San Francisco. It’s time to move from one base to another. My sponsor said she’d be there to pick me up at 9pm. I arrived an hour earlier than our set meeting. I called her up to let her know that I was already there. She didn’t pick up. 20 minutes later, I called her up again. Still no answer. I left her messages. No answer. I called her more and more and called a common friend to make sure that my sponsor is okay and she knows that I’m already in the airport. My friend said that he doesn’t know where my sponsor is since she’s not answering her door either. Then he theorized that she has left and probably on the way to the airport to pick me up. Negative. At 11pm, my sponsor called my up asking me where I was. I told her everything. She said she was sorry she fell asleep and she’s not sure if she should pick me up or if I should spend the night at the USO office in the airport. To make the long story short, she decided to pick me up, saying that she had enough sleep. 30 minutes had past. I was sitting in the same spot, where we’re supposed to meet up. She called me up to tell me to go to USO so I can relax somehow. Being very, very tired, I just said yes, picked up everything I have and went looking for USO. After 30 minutes of walking, I found myself in USO charging my phone and looking for a place where I can comfortably sit. I found one. Then my phone rang. It’s her. She told me she’s parked right outside the baggage area (where I was originally) and she’s waiting for me. I started gathering my stuff again — 2 brown luggages and 2 black bags (guitar and purse). I had to walk again for 30 minutes. It was past 12mn when I got to where we were supposed to meet. She was there. Happiness. After a bit of introductions, we loaded the luggage into her car. I was thinking I feel so tired I can crash into her car seat and not talk to her for the rest of the trip. True enough, I did. We were approaching the base when she woke me up with the question "Can I have your ID? They check." My eyes dilated. I forgot my purse in the cart! I lost all my IDs — permanent resident card, social security card, military card, bank cards, everything! Loss number 4.
I settled in the new base. It was better than the last base. My friend and I planned to explore San Francisco. She has never been there. It was cool. We loved the place. 3 days after the trip. I did my laundry. And then I realized that I lost tennis dress My favorite tennis dress! Damn! Loss number 5.
Still not over with that loss, I had to go to work everyday in the hospital as a medical laboratorian. In the Air Force, women are to follow rules and regulations if they wish to wear jewelries. One of which is that it can’t be anything but a small stone of something with a certain dimension. It has to be square-shaped or circular, like a disc or a globe. I chose my pearls. But my left pearl decided to leave my ear. And there it is… loss number 6.
Now I am not anymore too worried about losing stuff. But I can’t help but wonder every now and then smiling… What am I going to lose next? This is so not me. The complete opposite of me actually. But is there anything I have power over when it comes to fate?
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On the day I finally posted this blog, I lost my cellphone. Loss number 7.
December 3rd, 2006 at 6:13 pm
I think that it can be a difficult thing if you lose things that you care about. Unfortunately, when I was younger, I cared about a lot of things, and therefore, when I lost them I felt this deep, empty hole in my stomach. I would stay awake when I was stressed and think about things. Also, if my sister got angry, she would break anything and everything and get away with it. I think that’s why I’m no longer materialistic.
December 12th, 2006 at 9:30 pm
Is it really materialism? I cannot see it as that at all. There’s something about them — like they are special…