Neighbors are having a party again. Looking at the state of their houses, the way they dress, their contentment at huddling outside their houses or in the street corner on an ordinary week night had made me think: how can they afford to throw street parties everytime someone in their household celebrates a birthday? Is this all that they save up for? How much would they have to save in order to rent the videoke machine that will ultimately annoy everyone within a 20 meter radius? Why aren’t their children going to school when there’s money to spare on booze to get the neighbors they know, their relatives, and kin piss drunk? After the math, is there something I’m not getting here?

I won’t try to conjure some logic to explain for them because I’ll only end up frustrated and more annoyed. It’s a lost cause. Me against a barangay upholding a tradition they regard with importance. I’m only an outsider. While they’ve all been in Poblacion all their lives, I’ve only lived here 8 years. In those 8 years, there’s bound to be a street party twice a month at the very least. I’m not only referring to one neighbor at one side of the street. In the old residential part of Makati where buildings don’t cover everything with an afternoon shadow, that part of the city where everyone seems to be related to all their neighbors to the ninth degree of consanguinity, the part of town with ugly structures instead of aesthetically appealing bungalow houses, a tradition has struck commoners like the plague. Que sera sera. “One time, big time.” Party like there’s no tomorrow to worry about finding the means to get money to put food on the table.

And so, this thought is written and it will never reach the ones concerned. Story of my life: little voice, powerless, and irrelevant. A nag more annoying than the off key rendition of one song that gets sang countless times before the night ends.

Irritated, I went outside the house and stood along the main street to take a drag. “Bakit Ngayon Ka Lang” is playing and some drunk is attempting to belt out a duet. Listening made me realize two things: 1. They sing a limited numbers of songs whose titles are so common, anyone can sing with them without looking at the lyrics. 2. Almost always, nobody talented enough is singing.

Instead of them spoiling the rest of the night for me, I have decided to sing along. I don’t care. Since I can also hear the melody, why not overpower their atrocious noise with my above average chops? Lyric problems? Not knowing them by heart is like saying radio stations the like of Yes FM and those of their caliber have failed to subliminally drill these words in our DNA! Even so, I have the internet to find me words to the ones I need. And what if I don’t like the genre? I can always choose the music of my liking from my iPod and play them loudly from the earphones. So far, it’s worked. I don’t feel as grumpy anymore.

I won’t let anything else ruin the rest of the weekend.