"Associative Looseness"

The trip to Corregidor was long overdue. Ever since I can remember I've always planned to go there and experience the adventure the island offers. The nostalgia of going through the dark barracks and the old-feeling of the big guns and canons scattered all over the island.

The ruins that looked so very post-card-ish were actually only picture perfect. It was not as breath taking as I expected. Well, in part I was expecting brick ruins and huge columns with moss-covered walls -- but I was taken aback. What was there was an exquisite arrangement of rubbles, and very clean, indeed. Huge blocks of cement and large iron bars sticking out was the only thing there. It wasn't as nostalgic as I expected.

The Tramvia ride was a revealing experience. The smell of the freshly-cut grass brings memories of my childhood as I sit underneath the mango tree and create doodles in my notebook and write never ending stories of epic proportions. It was so cool and refreshing...

The big guns were freshly painted with green and were positioned in a funny way (see picture) upright, very upright haha!

That was me in the yellow shirt in my favorite pose, like a signorina surveying her lands hehe

This is the mile long barracks. It has three floors and the whole stretch is 1/3 of a mile so it was called "Mile Long Barracks" because you multiply the floors in three and you get one mile. Capiche?

My friend wanted to climb it but I stopped her knowing the fragility of the structure and since it looked like its going to collapse anytime. Better to stay away and be safe rather than risk getting injured. We are 1 and a half hour away from a good hospital... not worth the pain.

I have this thing with lighthouses. I haven't been inside one and I've always wanted to experience going in there but fate was toying with me. I was excited to see the Spanish Lighthouse in Corregidor and was even ecstatic when in Susan Carlo Medina's Travel Time, they were able to climb up and survey the whole island. Which means we can also do the same thing. However, our tour guide just made a quick stop and didn't let us off the Tramvia. This shot here was taken as we are driving away from the site. It's still magnificent though.

To sum it up, the Php 1,800 that I paid for the trip was actually worth it. We had the ferry ride, transfers and the tour plus a buffet lunch and a ferry back to Manila. It was a notable experience one must take to familiarize herself with history. Kudos to the tour guides who knew everything there is to know about the wars and even the trivial statistics like how many American soldiers were killed versus how many Japanese soldiers were killed. It was actually surprising to find out that Corregidor, although geographically near Bataan, is declared a territory of Dasmarinas, Cavite.

Nine years ago, I was a wide-eyed freshman enrolled in the best university in the Philippines. There was a mantra in my head inculcated by numerous leaflets and assemblies that pushes for additional compensation and budget for the university, "There are only two universities in the country, UP and others." Believing in this, I thought that after graduation, the best years of my life would come. I would be hired on the spot; I would be chosen over other applicants; companies will come looking for me; I could choose the job that I want- since I am from UP.
However, things didn’t turn out the way I expected. Like any other fresh graduates, I went for countless job interviews and job hunting. The call center was not yet that established and it has some sort of reputation, and I was too proud to work in a call center, because I am from UP. I applied for the senior positions, and therefore I was declined not knowing any better. I was jobless for six months, until I was finally accepted to be an Account Executive for a Marketing and Research Company. I was quite happy, earning my own money, finally landing a job, and finally working. This job entails me to get clients to hire the company’s services, so in order to do that I was on the phone almost the whole time. Sending out fliers, fax, and emails and distributing brochures- I was doing this for 6 months and didn’t even get one client to hire the company. Therefore my sales and marketing strategy and ability came in question. And before they could give me the axe I took it upon myself to resign. Nobody could fire me, I am from UP.
So, I went job hunting again. This time the lull of the call center industry became so attractive and the compensation was so alluring that I was sucked in. I became an agent selling refurbished computer parts to companies in the United States of America. I was quite doing well, sold a couple of chips, got my commissions and I was having fun with the night life. Nonetheless, my future as a call center agent looked dim, since I believed that I am better than just making calls every night. So I took my cousin’s offer, she referred me to a government company that she was having a business deal with. Hiring me was part of the deal. By this time, I already lost my belief system that I could get any job that I want. Being a secretary was not my dream job. I was floating. And I couldn’t hear anything. Except for one very suitable and timely suggestion; why don’t I take up nursing?
So I did. For three years I took up nursing and passed the local boards three months after graduation. I was hoping that maybe this time I could actually get the job that I want since I am a board passer with a grade higher than average, and what other jobs are there for a nurse than to work in a hospital? My license was released four months after the boards. In that time, I had no choice but to wait since nobody would hire me without a license. Then I got my license, so I immediately applied to all the big hospitals private and government alike. But it seems that nobody is hiring nurses nowadays, private hospitals require new nurses to undergo training for not less than 2 months without compensation and with a training fee, before considering them for a job in their institution. Government hospitals are better since they have a pre-determined timeframe for applicants. It’s just that there are no openings at this time of the year since the nurses bound for abroad are, not yet resigning because of the visa retrogression and stoppage of hiring nurses in the UK. Therefore, we, the new nurses have to wait for an opening, which is just excruciating. I’ve been waiting for a job interview for over a year now and still I haven’t been scheduled for one.
Now my issue is; people have been saying that there is a nursing shortage in the country. But there are over 39,000 who just passed the nursing board exam last June. How about the 20,000 board passers last December? How about the other 35,000 passers before that? This surge of nursing graduates is creating a pool of unemployed since no company abroad would hire nurses without at least 1 year hospital experience. How can we get that experience then if nobody is willing to hire us? What they are suggesting then is to finish all the international tests like NCLEX and IELTS so that we would be hired easily. But when the hospital you are applying to came to know that you are a NCLEX passer, they will not hire you because they know that you would only stay there for a year or less. And because of the practice of previous nurses that goes AWOL, some hospitals have created a policy that prevents you from getting your certificate of employment if your contract was not completed.
Therefore, what else is there to do?

I have come across the same terrains again. Familiar dirt road and recognizable lamp posts; all reminiscent of the things that happen over and over and over again.

Yet I still tread it every time. Unfaltering. Unwavering.

I clutch my heart at my sleeve; afraid it might eventually fall off. I scurry at the slightest bit of apprehension. I look around for some additional information that might help my journey less miserable. Shorter and fruitful even, a fool’s hope. At times I soar like an eagle, optimistic the whole way through. Unstoppable, aggressive, risky to the point of stupidity.

I held my breath and pretended to die. I lifted up my hands and imagined I could fly. I immortalize my pain through my writings; the never-ending memento mori I am preparing. Perhaps, like some best-regarded poets and writers, whose works were only recognized after their deaths; mine wouldn’t be any difference. More so, maybe my seemingly insignificant existence could be used as an excuse for something bigger than life. Then I… matter, eventually.

I cry at the top of my lungs. I tried to pull my eyes from its socket but could not. So, I sat there whimpering like a beaten, wet dog. Triumphant in my agony. Then the sun came and shined upon me again.

But then, tell me… how come I’m passing the same terrains, again?

The uphill and downhill slopes; the dust welcoming me at every turn; the smoke coming from the chimney of my broken self; how long will the wings on my feet last? How much more can the rope attaching my veins to reality endure?

And if I come to cross the same terrains again, I pray to God, help me.

I saw a man flying in EDSA today. I thought there was a parade of some sort or the taxi cab hit a garbage bin; for a lot of chicharon flew off into the air-- then a man in a somersault somehow joined the charade. Then I blinked.

Moment seemed to freeze as we pass by slowly to take a look at the unconscious vendor on the middle of the road. Cars honking and everybody seems to be in a slow motion. Thick, dark red blood oozes out from his nose and was shining against the light of the sun. He was still. Unmoving. And so are we.

I felt guilty. I am a Nurse. What would you do in a situation like that? I was on my way to the hospital for a job interview with my friend, who was driving, and who owns the car. A 2-door car, which makes it difficult for us to stop and take the man in and rush him to the hospital. First, in a vehicular accident you should not move the victim for the risk of doing more damage in the spinal cord or anywhere, wait for the proper authorities to move him. Second, we are both women and for God's sake we can not fit him in the backseat lest we removed ourselves from the car first! And also, we can not carry him.

So we sped away, hoping to see MMDA in the road to report the accident (where were they when you needed them the most?). We passed by the yellow taxi who hit the vendor being flagged down by a black Ford. Then a passenger, a woman, came out. What a nerve! She doesn't even have the decency to stop the driver and tell him to take the victim to the hospital. She just went along for the ride. Good thing somebody flagged them or the driver would have gone away with reckless driving resulting to homicide?

This is the second time actually that I saw a man fly. It gives you the creeps and the image, amidst the noise of EDSA seemed to take a recording of it's own. It's like a THUG! Screeechhhh!!! Except that the screeching sound was not from the Taxi that hit him. It was from the passersby who had it in them to stop and be awed by the raw action laid in front of them.

However, you can not really blame the taxi driver for the vendor was not within his legal rights to be in the middle of EDSA. It's a no-passing zone. As the famous pink billboard says “Bawal Tumawid, Nakamamatay!” But as a human being, it is the responsibility of the driver to be concern and bring the victim to the hospital. Hoping it's not too late. I hope that vendor would be okay. Risking your life for how many cents in every cigarette bought; for how many peso in every chicharon bought, or mineral water, or just about anything.

It was just shocking I guess. I'm hoping i won't see one anymore again.

I am asking this question because it seems that everywhere I look, this makes a mark that somehow leaves me haunting for answers. Everyday I see things wherein I say to myself, is being in love enough?

There are a lot of things associated with being in love. Being “in love” actually is not what you should call it when you find another person amazingly interesting, lovable, and deliriously attractive. “In love” is a state, and like most “states”, it is something temporary, a fleeting moment, a certain status, something that won’t really last.

So, for the sake of argument and some things I read from The Road Less Traveled,:

The section mainly attacks a number of misconceptions about love: that romantic love exists (he considers it a very destructive myth), that it is about dependency, that true love is "falling in love", that love is cathexis, that love is a feeling. Instead love is about the extending of one's ego boundaries to include another, and about the spiritual nurturing of another, in short, love is effort.

I have been presented with some situations, about a friend having another lover apart from one she already has for nine (9) years. She’s having an affair and she claims that she loves both persons and if the original partner finds out about her affair, she’s going to deny it, and if worse comes to worst, she would not choose either of them. Now, I’ve been asking her if she loves the one she’s been with for 9 years, and without batting an eyelash she says Yes! Now, next question would be, then why are you having an affair with another person? Then here comes the most complicated part of the conversation. Mostly because I don’t approve of her reasons, and partly because I am biased as to listening her explanations why. Then I sort of realized, maybe she doesn’t love the nine years anymore. She’s just staying for the sake of the years spent together, which was rather absurd. So I asked her, “Why don’t you leave that person and stay with the new one? Since that new person obviously makes you happy.” She said no, she could never do that to the nine years, she can never find someone incomparable with the nine-year-person. Wtf? But, hey, that’s her life. My business? No.

Then here comes a TV show about a married couple with a declining sex life. The girl initiates the talk of open marriage and the guy agrees with the premise that it turned both of them on and he just wants to get laid. But in a turn of events, the wife really went out of her way and slept with another guy, believing that they have this “open marriage” thing worked out. However, the husband didn’t take it too seriously and was still waiting for the time when he and the wife could get it on in the sack. Finding out sooner rather than later, that the wife was already sleeping with another guy. So the husband went out his way and slept with another girl.

Sad thing. When this kind of things happen to good couples. Having another person on the side at the same time claiming being in love with the current beau is really absurd. As I mentioned, they were only maybe in a temporary state when they said that they were “in love”. And does this love enough to withhold your desires for other people? It should be. As M. Scott Peck says, love is sustained by not mutual dependence; it actually causes strain on the relationship being too dependent. Therefore true love is achieved by being independent of each other. Meaning, that when you go away and do some stuff on your own, you want to go home and share your experience with your partner; and the partner would do the same without the both of you feeling guilty of left out from each other’s lives. Communication is the key. Plus a truckload of honesty.

Maybe what these people feel when they engage in an affair, they lose the excitement, and they lose the lust they have for the person they’ve been with for a thousand years. Yes, it does happen. You could actually get tired from loving; curse it at times; but you would never stop loving the person if you really started to really, really love that person from the very beginning, inside and out.

There’s this line that the husband from the TV Show said before finding out about his wife’s affair. He said, “I love her, I love the way she smells, I love the way she is with the kids, I love her cooking. I just love her.”

That melted my heart.

Now, did I mention that the nine-year-person found out about my friend’s extra-curricular activities? I actually pity the nine-year-person. To give your love, and your life into nurturing a relationship you hope would last forever; and then reality would hit you right in the face that the person you’re offering the world to doesn’t actually feel the same for you, anymore at least.

I wouldn’t want that to happen to me. If I was with a person and that person doesn’t feel the same way I do?

Now, here’s the cliché. I actually don’t know what to do.

I have been taking steroids for my condition, and this has been my more or less 4th week (not consecutively) taking steroids. I took methylprednisolone 16mg twice a day for two weeks and taper it down to 4 mgs twice a day for a week. Then now I am taking prednisone 20 mgs twice a day for a week.

I dread the effects steroids have on me.

First and foremost, the excess flab that adds to my already inflated tummy and my big face. Yeah, yeah it reduces the inflammation of my lymph but then it also attracts water therefore causing me to bloat. But that’s human nature, right? To get fat?

Then here comes the acne. I experienced severe acne attacks on my back going up to my nape; thank God it doesn’t go to my face. And here are some more possible side effects that may happen to me:
· High blood pressure and heart disease
· Liver damage and cancers
· Stroke and blood clots
· Urinary and bowel problems, such as diarrhea
· Headaches, aching joints, and muscle cramps
· Nausea and vomiting
· Sleep problems
· Increased risk of ligament and tendon injuries
· Severe acne, especially on face and back – already have this L
· Baldness

Also, there has been studies showing behavioral side effects such as severe mood swings:

According to Dr. Wadler, anabolic steroids can cause severe mood swings. "People's psychological states can run the gamut." says Wadler. "They can go from bouts of depression or extreme irritability to feelings of invincibility and outright aggression, commonly called "'roid rage. This is a dangerous state beyond mere assertiveness."

Anyways, people around me are sort of not aware of this roller coaster I’m going through. I’m just hoping I don’t manifest as much as it says I would given the long-term use. This condition recurrent; so maybe someday, you’ll see me writing about the same stuff again, complaining of other symptoms. I’m crossing my fingers that nothing fatal befalls me.

When you are faced with a reality and confusion of your doing, it gets so hard to stand up and admit that it's all your fault.. and you're willing to take the consequences for it.

It takes a lot of courage to be able to finally say, “It's okay, I'll be fine. Everything that we have will remain a memory, a good memory that will haunt me in my waking hours.” But it takes a lot more courage to gather your things and walk away... just walk away.

Nothing can ever prepare you for the hurt and the incoming misery that you would only feel once it's over. You promised yourself you wouldn't cry; you promised to yourself you wouldn't beg nor ask for one more chance. I applaud you for doing so, for sticking with what you said you would do --

But I applaud you more for staying; against all odds; you stayed. I applaud you for not giving up, for having a bit of courage to stay – just for a little while. For a little while.

And yet, you managed you fix what was broken; you managed to hang on and kept your grip onto it. For what you have together is a treasure; a priceless non-entity that exists only in both of your hearts; and that no matter where you go or what you do; you have made a mark and carved your own niches in each other; that there will only be emptiness when one is absent; there will only be longing when one is away.

That kind of attachment, that kind of bond, that kind of connection – is what you call TRUE LOVE.

I went out last night, my first time in a long time with my old good friend Rica. We’re supposed to hang out at her cousin’s bar but she had invites to this Girl’s Pre-White Party at a friend’s bar in Malate. So off we went.

I met interesting characters before we went there; Rica’s workmates from Sykes, First up is Lyle and then G (which I later found out it’s Chie pala). They are very nice lively people. We immediately had it going and all of us fooled around, along with Irish and Jaye.

We boarded a taxi – the six of us -- parang yung commercial about 6-sik in the taxi. It’s a good thing the driver tolerated it.

At the bar, mysterious characters floated around. We got free tickets (c/o of Chez. Thanks very much!) and ordered the night out –- though I didn’t remember who paid for my drinks, I think it was Rica so I just bought them breakfast at a bulalo place somewhere in Manila.

There were dancers on the ledge, pole dancing and stuff. One particular girl, in an all-white garb caught my attention, I was not really sure if she’s a girl or something else. I brought up my concern to the owner and she just said she doesn’t know her; maybe she is because I think she looks like it. Then they laughed at me. Man, I wasn’t drunk yet.

The party was okay, rowdy and loud and full of people. I met some old friends and patched things up with one. Some I don’t even remember anymore, some I did. Some introduced themselves, and hoping I won’t forget in the morning.

There’s these two (2) people constantly haggling us and they were after Chie; who got scared and moved away. Pretending to be hooking up with another friend just so they would stop bugging her.

At my third beer, I was oblivious with things around me, I was hugging everyone, dancing with them and really lost my inhibitions. I was having fun, but my company was thinking otherwise, that I was not my usual self, that I was dead drunk to be doing those stuff – but they’re wrong, I am completely in control of my actions; the difference was just that hindi na ako kasi nahihiya.

So what people are saying about not remembering anything after a night of heavy drinking is not true. You are completely aware of what you’re doing; it’s just that you can’t stop yourself because it is that inner desire that works on you. Alcohol brings out the wild side in you; the hidden desires in your subconscious will be acted upon by your ego. The ID is working its way out. And you will remember everything in the morning, and try to get away from responsibility by saying you don’t remember. Denial is always the best recourse.

So at my fourth beer, friends were concerned about my well being, one even took me outside to have a breath of fresh air. Then we had a conversation. This certain friend had been a good buddy of mine almost 5 years back; but due to some circumstances I cleared away from them. They were my party friends, and I simply just refused to go out, I got tired partyin’ and settled in my nice little cocoon with my beloved. Every time they would invite me out, I would say yes and then would not show up. I guess they got tired inviting me. Until last week, hence last night.

I mentioned about patching things up with a friend. The reasons are blurred now and honestly, now, it doesn’t even matter. I don’t care anymore. That kind of attitude gets to you when you grow up and you mature and realize that the things you think were so serious before seems very silly now. As you move on you are heading towards a goal and childish rifts are considered nonsense.

As for me, I just want to have a good time and everybody around me to have a good time, too with me.

This revelation will always be reminded by a scar below my left breast from a cigarette when they hugged me. Oh, well. That’s life. You learn something then you get scarred for life.

So the thesis statement of this wondrous parable is that: Just have fun, don’t take things so seriously. Go out and party!

Bow.

Today is my last day at my temporaray job. I have to get the clearance form from the outsourcing company I was referred to, which was in Ayala Avenue. I would be coming from the Fort, Global City.

On my way back, I promised to myself I would stop by Santuario de San Antonio in Forbes Park. Which I did. I boarded the bus and got off at the church. To my surprise, there were a lot of policemen and PSG guarding the place. There were also a lot of red-plate cars parked in front of the church. As I was about to go in, a PSG in a barong uniform asked me where I’m going.

HELLO? I’m going to the church -- maybe I’ll play pingpong with the priest.

He said I can’t go in because there’s a wedding ceremony inside. So what? It would only take me a few minutes to ask for forgiveness for silently cursing them PSGs… and that oh, so important person getting married inside. I bet, the girl just wed him for his money. Hehehe.

I asked who was getting married, he said the DOH Secretary. So? Do you need all these bodyguards around? I inched my way closer to the door, eventually I sneaked in.

It was an ordinary wedding. Just that the church was full, and it was first time to see a wedding sitter, errr…planner, fixing the sitting arrangement. (He) was holding a list and he was directing the latecomers to their proper places. Plus, all the attedees were wearing dress to kill dresses. Meaning, the women were wearing saya and white galas and silky dresses and stuff. While the men are dressed in barongs and americanas. When I say men and women, all the attendees, as in, all!

Nice to look at. It would be better if I saw the face of the bride and groom. Nice to look at din kaya? Hehehe

Anyways, I was waiting for the bus outside the church. It came to me, that maybe they were not really guarding important personalities who attended the wedding. Maybe they were really guarding the groom from scandal --- you know he got someone knocked up and that girl would go inside and shout, “STOP! Hindi kayo pwedeng magpakasal!” Then the priest would ask why, then the girl would say, “dahil ako ang mahal niya!”. So everybody would be looking at the groom, but the weird thing is, the groom was baffled, flushed in disbelief even. The groom’s father would then look at his son with glaring eyes as if saying, “what the hell are you thinking?”

To which the groom would answer, “I don’t know this woman.” Then the woman would answer, “I wasn’t talking about you, dummy. I was referring to HER!”

Hehhehe haahahah!

I was actually laughing at the sidewalk, by myself. Maybe people passing by in their cars think I’m a little cuckoo for giggling but I didn’t care. I was amused.

It helps to think about funny scenarios and other things to pass the time. It’s very refreshing and time flies by so fast.

I didn’t even notice that the bus refused to stop when I waved. The driver waved at me too when I waved… was he meaning to say Mabuhay?

Hahahah!See, i wasn't even pissed. It helps when you imagine your way out of things. It makes everything light.

Anyways, it was really hot so I decided to take the quickest ride to the office. Habal-habal 2007!

Looking for an online job is the same as looking for a real-time job in person. I have probably searched all job engines looking for part-time, internet, writing, blogging, tutorial, english-online instructor, research jobs!

Whew!

I am most keen in applying for writing jobs because I thought that it would only be per article per submission basis. Which would be very comfortable with my schedule since I am going to work in a hospital (very soon!) Also that I love writing and I could go the whole day in front of a computer and just write away with basically anything. The Company where I applied the position of Creative Writing actually invited me for an interview, and when I went to search online the company’s credentials – I discovered it is an outsourcing company that caters to basically anything. It requires graveyard shifts and rotational shifts instead of the flexible hours I am looking for. In short, this is NOT creative writing per se. It is not a part-time deal for it requires 8 hours a day of work. Letch.

Then online english instructors/tutors. One Korean company called, declined the interview twice -- so I guess they figured out I’m not really that interested in teaching koreans how to speak english -- I said I’m a writer not a speaker. I have a little bit of problem with T’s and H’s and S’s. Anyways, not my calling.

So here comes the blogging, writing per article basis jobs. I applied to maybe a dozen but only one replied. I checked the pay per article and it’s

200-300 words = 60p
300-400 words = 75p
400-500 words = 100p
500 above =120p

That’s in Philippine Peso. *sigh. The going rate per article is not really that encouraging.

Then there’s this one company who actually sent me a job order. I was really excited because at last my efforts didn’t go to waste - but then the job order was for an Accounting Expert. I could research on it but I’m not really an accounting expert. My article might be filled with errors and I wouldn’t even know it, how would I know it? Hello?

So I requested the company to send me job orders regarding the topics I am most updated and and interested -- like Healthcare, Medical, Literature, Movies, Politics, Religion, History, People, maybe reviews on techie objects, Cars or Laptops and Cellphones. But not anything with numbers please…

I could be a Physics, Math, Algebra, Trigonometry, Geometry, Chuvametry tutor but only at the Highschool level. I took Arts in college! Hello?

Anyways, I hope I get another job order.

-- aymi --

I came from a friend’s house this morning, went there straight from work last night. The house was somewhere north so I had to take the MRT going to work. I went to the oldies/women’s section, it was not so crowded as I expected at 9 in the morning, I even had a seat, but didn’t have the chance to give it up for the pregnant lady cos the girl beside me beat me to it. So I contented myself with making palinga-linga like stupid looking at people. Observing them.

All of the passengers have Libre Newpspaper. Sitting, standing, leaning, even nakabitin they are all reading the newspaper.I saw what one girl was reading, Dolly Carvajal’s article about Yilmaz and Ruffa and the turkish newspaper with a headline Uyupturucu Kacakisinn Odlu Flypynler Unlu Aktrstyyle Evlendy, in english –Smuggler’s Son gets married to a famous Philippine Actress. So, naturally, the scorned Ruffa filed a complaint againts Carvajal saying she shouldn’t judge Yilmaz, blah and blahber. Anyways, read the whole article if you want here.

So, I made linga-linga again like stupid, and the other girl was reading this little green book with a weird title, 38 Judoki Elementary Edition. It was intriguing, at first I thought it was a guide book for teachers in elementary. Then I got to peeked in a little, turns out it’s a pseudo-sudoki type board game how-to’s. *sigh*

Then the train stopped at Kamuning, in comes a petite, fair girl; amidst the siksikan she managed to get the bitin spot right in front of me. So, having my view blocked I proceeded on scrutinizing every piece of her. She was wearing a 2-inch-pin heeled slip on sandals, no pedicure but her toenails are clean. Her feet are a little large for her body figure, she stands maybe 5’1 but her feet seems size 7, or 7+. She had those veins that pop out when you’re standing on heels for too long. I thought only women like me have those dorsal veins popping out, having no care for the feet at all (not even a single foot spa) and walking long distances. She has scar-less legs, I think even hair-less. She has this garterized striped-ala-samba skirt above the knee and a black off the shoulders top with a not so transparent plastic bra strap. She has long hair that reaches to her waist, and one shoulder bag and one paper bag. The paper bag contains 2 to 3 pouches of maybe make-up, a small organizer, a box of tissues and a folded umbrella.

Then a woman and her kid sort of bumped into her and in the stillness of the MRT we heard a very Paris Hilton like “Ouch!” So, this girl is very very much maarte. Why did she take the MRT if she doesn’t want people bumping into her? I wanted to hit her right in the middle of her legs like you would a guy, to teach her a lesson. But. Oh well. She was reading Libre, the whole train ride, nakabitin and all, she was unmindful of her skirt being pulled by gravity or something else. Her belly was exposed same as her white undies. I was thinking maybe she put that on purpose, to arouse the guys? So, seeing that she’s very fair and has nice skin I figured her belly was also the same. BUT upon closer examination, her belly is just like mine! She has this rolled out skin that you get when you lose weight, and I also noticed white-silvery-grayish lines…hmmm…stretch marks. So maybe she’s older than she looks, maybe she has a kid already.

Anyways, next stop was mine so I stood up. She sat in my seat still reading.Hablutin ko kaya bag niya? Mahahabol niya kaya ako? Hehehe Arte, arte. Dapat nagtataxi ka na lang. Hmp!

There’s this guy two desks away from me at the office, he’s a very big, mustache American guy, who speaks on the phone as if the whole floor was his office! We could overhear everything he’s saying, even his burp…that’s how loud he is. It’s funny sometimes, like this one time he was trying to get to someone and a receptionist got his call. Then the receptionist tried to connect him to the person but the line got cut so he called again and got the same receptionist, this time the receptionist told him to hold, which he did, then the line went dead. Then he called again, now a little pissed, the same receptionist got the call again, after so much so- and so, and him telling “This is the worst receptionist, ever!”, she gave him the contact number of the person, who turned out was not in the office at that time. We were laughing our hearts out just by listening.

Then every morning he would bring in donuts, preferable Krispy Crème that Mr. Donuts (?) He would offer it to everyone but I wouldn’t dare touch it, I just don’t like eating his food. Maybe at the back of my mind I’m scared getting so big like him. He’s really obese, he walks like a penguin, and I’m guessing he doesn’t fit in the revolving door anymore. But he’s a nice guy. It’s just funny observing him and listening in on his telephone calls. As one girl office mate would say it, “ang ligalig niya”.