today i found myself in the middle of an unseen war.
it started early in the day with the laundry. there was a tall pile of it in one corner of my room that it wasn't unnoticeable. i was forcibly taken out of my loving bed and into the washroom where the violent turning of the washing machine whirrsss its terrible sound. i felt the pain suffered by the clothes as they seemingly, helplessly tumble and drown. it's their necessary pain. not mine. i only reap the benefits - clean underwear, for one. but the sheer number of things to wash is overwhelming. and sleep is biting its pangs into my system. it's seven o'clock, how can i help it? my day, apparently, was made even before it started.
i chose to ignore it.
sometimes, a second or two kept to oneself saves a lot of trouble for the world. that mere second changes one's outlook in life. a deep breath might even save your life. i did what i had to do, nothing more. instead of being grouchy and ill-tempered, and make a total jerk of my day, i stayed calm, took a deep breath, and patiently carried out the task of washing two-week old dirty laundry. i won that invisible battle for my right being. i probably saved my sanity with that choice. and the work was done, i got to go back to sleep.
until of course some other job required my attention... and the skirmishes begin again.
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Thursday, September 22, 2005
PMS
"after the beep, you know what to do..." click. beeeeeeeeeep.
everyone knows what that is. it's an answering machine, one that is tired of explaining that you should leave your name and number, and to state your purpose or die. then again, you might just be lucky we'll get back to you if we feel like it. it's getting to be a staple response from most answering machines these days.
the same warning should be installed in women that prompts us guys every month.
i was recently handed by my girlfriend an article in Cosmo (strategically, a woman's magazine!) about a guy succumbing to the pitfalls of PMS. she was, in all sincerity, hoping that i'd be "enlightened" as to the ordeals women go through every month. in the article, the writer, apparently a man, tells his readers to just let things be when it comes to PMS. paraphrasing, i would say that PMS is just like the rising of the sun, or the changing of the tides - let it be.
i haven't the strength of will to do just that. so sue me. whatever course of evolution made woen what they are is the same course of evolution that'll make men understand why women are what they are. i'd still need the early warning device every month.
still, even with that device on, i'd need an anti-lock braking system and a good airbag to help me survive the inevitable collision.
"...the number you have dialed is not yet a telephone, please talk to yourself for the moment..."
everyone knows what that is. it's an answering machine, one that is tired of explaining that you should leave your name and number, and to state your purpose or die. then again, you might just be lucky we'll get back to you if we feel like it. it's getting to be a staple response from most answering machines these days.
the same warning should be installed in women that prompts us guys every month.
i was recently handed by my girlfriend an article in Cosmo (strategically, a woman's magazine!) about a guy succumbing to the pitfalls of PMS. she was, in all sincerity, hoping that i'd be "enlightened" as to the ordeals women go through every month. in the article, the writer, apparently a man, tells his readers to just let things be when it comes to PMS. paraphrasing, i would say that PMS is just like the rising of the sun, or the changing of the tides - let it be.
i haven't the strength of will to do just that. so sue me. whatever course of evolution made woen what they are is the same course of evolution that'll make men understand why women are what they are. i'd still need the early warning device every month.
still, even with that device on, i'd need an anti-lock braking system and a good airbag to help me survive the inevitable collision.
"...the number you have dialed is not yet a telephone, please talk to yourself for the moment..."
Friday, September 16, 2005
the jet effect
Picture this.
It’s a nice warm day, and you spend it walking around the mall. Suddenly, hunger gets to you. So you decide to stop by the nearest fast food store. You happily enter the store as you notice that you’re the only one in line. You order your food and give the cute cashier a dainty smile as she hands you your change and receipt. You take your tray away and find a nice cozy spot where you could eat your meal in peace. In the middle of your transitory avarice with your two-piece chicken, you have the need for extra rice. You raise your head up to scout the cashier, only to find that the line to the order counter had grown almost beyond the store’s entrance!
Then what do you do?
It is often a puzzle to an inquisitive mind like mine when phenomenon like the above described happen. I myself have been in the situation several times. In fact, I have encountered such dilemma that I started wondering what to call such an event. Hungry for something to name it with (and to perhaps douse a little the flame of my eagerness and curiosity) I asked my friends if they know, in any language, what such event is called. From the Ilocanos of the north, to the Bisayas of the Central Philippines, to the people of Sulu, no one can provide the answer. So, I felt it is my moral and even divine responsibility to christen such event with a name.
In such case, what I would have done is to just sit back, return to devouring my chicken, wear a grin on my face and say, “it’s the Jet effect”.
It’s a nice warm day, and you spend it walking around the mall. Suddenly, hunger gets to you. So you decide to stop by the nearest fast food store. You happily enter the store as you notice that you’re the only one in line. You order your food and give the cute cashier a dainty smile as she hands you your change and receipt. You take your tray away and find a nice cozy spot where you could eat your meal in peace. In the middle of your transitory avarice with your two-piece chicken, you have the need for extra rice. You raise your head up to scout the cashier, only to find that the line to the order counter had grown almost beyond the store’s entrance!
Then what do you do?
It is often a puzzle to an inquisitive mind like mine when phenomenon like the above described happen. I myself have been in the situation several times. In fact, I have encountered such dilemma that I started wondering what to call such an event. Hungry for something to name it with (and to perhaps douse a little the flame of my eagerness and curiosity) I asked my friends if they know, in any language, what such event is called. From the Ilocanos of the north, to the Bisayas of the Central Philippines, to the people of Sulu, no one can provide the answer. So, I felt it is my moral and even divine responsibility to christen such event with a name.
In such case, what I would have done is to just sit back, return to devouring my chicken, wear a grin on my face and say, “it’s the Jet effect”.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
waiting
it's still 37 minutes before 7 in the evening, before i could go out and drive again in the streets, before the unseen chains of the MMDA's coding scheme release me from my prison.
i seem to have started a nasty habit of hating having to wait.
and my typing is getting slow. i'm drifting to nothingness, just waiting for the clock to move closer to seven. and it did. it's now 6: 25pm.
what an improvement! i could almost rejoice! without the bounce of course...
but i have to resign to the fact that i am still destined to wait. because everything is beyond my control. everything is beyond my will. everything is bey- wait! it's 6:27 already! yehey!
the steady pace of time progresses, and i am starting to enjoy this tedious waiting, if not only because of the tiny seconds that pass ba, as if trickling drops from a water spout. tip tap tip tap they say.
i'm getting my head examined tomorrow. perhaps a funeral or two for some brain cells i killed today... tip tap tip tap... there they go again!.... tip tap tip tap....
6:29
6:30...
tip tap tip tap....
i seem to have started a nasty habit of hating having to wait.
and my typing is getting slow. i'm drifting to nothingness, just waiting for the clock to move closer to seven. and it did. it's now 6: 25pm.
what an improvement! i could almost rejoice! without the bounce of course...
but i have to resign to the fact that i am still destined to wait. because everything is beyond my control. everything is beyond my will. everything is bey- wait! it's 6:27 already! yehey!
the steady pace of time progresses, and i am starting to enjoy this tedious waiting, if not only because of the tiny seconds that pass ba, as if trickling drops from a water spout. tip tap tip tap they say.
i'm getting my head examined tomorrow. perhaps a funeral or two for some brain cells i killed today... tip tap tip tap... there they go again!.... tip tap tip tap....
6:29
6:30...
tip tap tip tap....
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