What normally takes eight hours, took 13 hours!
My gluteus still hurt from enduring that 13-hour bus ride from Calamba to Bacacay. The trip is always worth the long hours of travel. Still, this recent trip was the longest travel time I’ve had going home.
Usually, my problem with this trip was thrill-seeking drivers. Before I sleep on a trip, I tell Him that I trust him with my life and if I’m still alive when I wake up, I know I’m blessed. This time, the second driver preferred cruising. I do appreciate that he wants to be cautious BUT when we get delayed by more than three hours, that’s something else!
Another thing that prolonged the trip was the road constructions everywhere. Why repair and construct roads during the summer season?! The part of the year where a lot of people go to the south of Luzon? Whatever were they thinking?!
I know all these local leaders want their faces plastered on whatever space their team can think of and boast of their [unneeded and/or impractical/bothersome] road construction projects. And why don’t they assign people to manage traffic? In one area, the bus waited for more than an hour. Only half of the road was passable and the person (whoever he may be) was not doing a good job at managing traffic. No one needs to wait for more than an hour just to use a portion of a road!
Been a while since I last wrote something of this sort. During high school, not a week passes without me completing one. Maybe I just had more time for this at the time. Mas maraming oras para sa pagdadrama 🙂
It’s been years since I lost myself
In every crowd I search for your face
It’s like breathing, it’s like breathing
I don’t even have to think to do it
It’s just something I can’t help myself with
Just can’t stop looking for that thing I lost
And I, lost me
When I lost you.
When I’ve stopped believing
I’d see you
When I have stopped searching
I’ll bump into you
When I thought I’ve forgotten
How it feels to be with you.
You’d glance at me
When I have long left
Look out for me
When I have disappeared
You’d think of me
When I’ve long given up
And you tell me the things that I’ve long longed to hear
Just a little more than five years too late.
Yan ang epekto ng panonood ng Korean drama last weekend. 🙂
I woke up this morning before the alarm went off. I was able to come to work before 7 am. Everything’s been a breeze so far. It was only a few seconds ago that I realized I feel good. This is turning out to be a good day. There has been a scarcity of good days lately. And today is turning out to be a pleasant surprise.
At the back of my mind there’s the fear that sometime between now and later, something would happen ruining this good start. But then, there’s always that possibility. I’d rather enjoy the good time I’m having right now at work. In the past weeks, I have associated work with tasks, dread, deadlines, and the likes. This time wanted to write something pleasant about it because this day deserves just that.
I still have the same set of deadlines and later, perhaps more will come. I’m out of the gloom bubble right now – for now. It’s days like this one that remind me why I love this job. It may just be a matter of perspective. Problems and constraints (especially financial) will always be there. I even wonder why I’m still troubled by them. It’s just reality.
Perhaps it’s the long sleep I had, or maybe it’s the bathroom drain at last unclogged. Perhaps it’s because I’m looking forward to something (after a long while). Whatever it is, I’m glad I’m writing about one good day – not one of those busy-me, tired-me, negative-me entries.
What this week taught me:
There’s always something worth looking forward to.
You’ll never receive help if you do not ask for one.
Family will always be family. They never fail to surprise me. I’m going home! – Well, next week, that is 😀
Have a great day! 😀
March 22 marks the day of my last class as a student for this semester. I’m thankful for another semester. This time, I thanked our professor -before I could forget.
It is true that one appreciates the value of anything if one finds him/herself in a very similar situation. This morning, a student thanked me for the semester that passed and I was happy.
That was all I needed. It meant a lot. But it did make me ask myself, was I able to thank all my professors and teachers before? Had I known that it would feel this good I would have done it. Perhaps that can be another personal project. Find all my teachers and thank them – just in case I was not able to do so in the past.
I’ve heard how fulfilling it is to receive a simple thanks in words or in writing. And now I have felt it. Experiencing it first hand is better. However, it does make me regret one thing – not being able to thank all the great people who I know have given their students more than what their work required. I don’t know why it took me this long to realize that, considering that I grew up with two aunts who brought home work everyday and checked student outputs on weekends.
It may be a little late but – thank you.
I will thank you again when I see you.
And, great thanks to that student who reminded me.
From June 2005 to March 2010.
Almost half a decade’s worth of memories
March 15, 2010 marks the day I completed my red journal. The first entry was dated October 2, 2009, a day after my father’s birthday. Almost six months – that was how long it took to complete this one. This is the most challenging journal so far. I first doubted if I’d be able to complete fill its pages. Long after I have given up counting the pages, I did fill it up. I look at it still with disbelief, amazed at how a pocket-sized notebook could keep six months of memories. A journal is a must-have for not-so-sociable people – me included 🙂 We have no other means of freeing thoughts up there. It can be one’s therapy. If you want to shout without disturbing anyone – just write it in ALL CAPS, underline it, and you’ll feel a little better (also applicable to curses for people you dislike/hate at the moment). For forgetful people (ahem), keeping a journal is one way of taking note of details of events. That way, one can just leaf through the pages and relive those moments. But the best thing one can get from keeping journals is the realization of how one has matured over time – relatively 🙂
The other night, a group of Japanese teens filled Cafe Antonio. We decided to come back later that same night.
Past nine, I returned and the cafe was packed still (great night for business). I decided to wait by the counter. A few minutes later, a table was freed. I have no idea how since no one left the cafe. And there I found myself surrounded by conversations in Japanese. So this is what it’s like being lost in translation. I felt like a foreigner inside a cafe I have been going to regularly for the past – well, since they started.
Somehow, I was waiting for English subtitles to appear from somewhere. That’s your natural reaction if you’ve been watching Japanese/ Korean/ Taiwanese movies, anime, dramas, et cetera for a looooooooooooooooong time.
The sound of their conversation was strangely familiar – even if I cannot understand any of it.