Has this ever happened to you? You're doing something extremely mundane, like watching the sky from inside the car, and you suddenly hear a song playing in your head. Like background music. And you smile a bit and thnk, perfect song.
Music is important. I have very poor memory, but I am amazed at the capacity of my brain to store songs. I think it's the same for most people. Songs have very good recall. I was taught that singing a church song is very powerful, because it is a prayer said twice over. A single song has a far greater ability to evoke emotion and thought than an entire book. A lot like poetry. Powerful, songs are. As Nick Hornby asked, "Do I listen to pop music because I'm sad, or am I sad because I listen to pop music?"
Milan Kundera said (can't get enough, he says a lot of things), and I paraphrase, our lives are like one giant composition. They are filled with different notes, melodies that give rhythm and definition to the persons that we are and will become. He does not mean this in exactly the same way I did with the background music bit. But it does make a lot of sense, and has parallel logic.
Each person has a story or, more aptly, a music sheet. He points this out in the context of two people meeting and finding each other, to give meaning to each other and share one life. It is at this point that their separate stories merge to form one great, harmonious song. And then you have the cliche, "making beautiful music together."
Anyway, if songs (the real ones, as in those you hear on the radio) are part of that story, as they most usually, inextricably are, then they are like the second voice to our life's melody. Physical manifestations of our metaphysical musical journey. Actual juxtaposed with the spiritual. That's why you have a song dedicated to your lover, friend, mother, a moment, an episode, a dream.
So whether you're staring out the window or crying your heart out over a lost love, music will inevitably be there, sometimes soft and soothing, other times loud, punctuating each heavy beat your heart makes. Calm, explosive, reassuring, confusing, enlightening, angry, sad, melancholy, peaceful. It is threaded into everying that you are, have been and could be. The soundtrack of your life. And when you look back at the moments grand and minute, you also hear your songs. We Will Rock You (Queen) - Grade 4 soccer kickball championship. Step By Step (New Kids on the Block) - Grade 5, barkada heyday. On Eagle's Wings, Light of a Million Mornings - Grade school graduation practice. Buloy and almost everything else by Parokya, Eheads and Alanis - 2nd Year (one of the best years of my high school life, first time I learned how to curse "properly" nyahaha). Angel Wings (class grad song), Ikaw Lamang, Ikaw Lang ang Mamahalin - 4th year (another of the best years of high school). Can't Fight This Feeling - When I thought I was falling in love for the first time (corny tsong!). Worlds Collide (Plumb), Waiting in Vain, Breakdown - First heartbreak.
The Terminal. 500 Miles. Honey. Gemini. Kahit pa. With a Smile. Engelbert Humperdink. Puff the Magic Dragon. Frank Sinatra. Michael Jacskon. Westlife. The Corrs. Freestyle. Heck, even F4.
We are all bursting in song. Music in motion.
Question, though. Is it wrong to be jealous of someone else's music?
We sometimes feel a sense of ownership over songs, don't we? True, we don't have a monopoly over music, but Ikaw Lamang will always be the property of 4H, St. Scho Batch '99. Sometimes When We Touch will be Mama's and Papa's forever.
MY song. YOUR song. OUR song.
Different songs mean different things to different people. And yet when you come across someone who gives meaning to the same song, albeit in another, perhaps completely different way, you stop and say, hey waitaminute. Especially if it means a lot to you, and you realize that it might also mean a lot, maybe so much more, to another.
AND YOU DON'T WANT IT TO. Because the song tells a story, not yours, but HIS or HER or THEIR story, deep and wonderful and courageous. And because you know so well the meaning of music and the beauty of a story, this particular story, you know just how perfect it is. And you're jealous (of a song!), just as we're sometimes jealous of someone's past, as if it's a phantom that will come out of the shadows to get us.
Thus, your selfish heart craves to pluck out and tear away the thread that makes up that song, to erase it from the tapestry of a person's life.
But you can't erase it. In fact, you don't want to, because the tapestry is so utterly beautiful. That single thread contributes to the whole, and you don't want to destroy the whole. You respect it and honor it. It is sacred, and you will do anything to preserve its beauty.
--
On my 16th birthday, Divina, one of my closest high school friends, gave me an compilation tape. An actual soundtrack.:) That was long, long ago, but I treasure that tape and keep it to this day. It reminds me of everything that I was back then, as a kid growing up and searching for herself, finding comfort and strength in the love and faith of a friend.
It has a song that I love. A part of my story.
And others' as well, for different and equally perfect reasons. And that's okay. I think.
Power of Two
Indigo Girls
Now the parking lot is empty
Everyone's gone someplace
I pick you up and in the trunk I've packed
A cooler and a 2-day suitcase
Cause there's a place we like to drive
Way out in the country
Five miles out of the city limit we're singing
And your hand's upon my knee
So we're okay
We're fine
Baby I'm here to stop your crying
Chase all the ghosts from your head
I'm stronger than the monster beneath your bed
Smarter than the tricks played on your heart
We'll look at them together then we'll take them apart
Adding up the total of a love that's true
Multiply life by the power of two
You know the things that I am afraid of
I’m not afraid to tell
And if we ever leave a legacy
It’s that we loved each other well
Cause I’ve seen the shadows of so many people
Trying on the treasures of youth
But a road that fancy and fast
Ends in a fatal crash
And I’m glad we got off
To tell you the truth
Cause we're okay
We're fine
Baby I'm here to stop your crying
Chase all the ghosts from your head
I'm stronger than the monster beneath your bed
Smarter than the tricks played on your heart
We'll look at them together then we'll take them apart
Adding up the total of a love that's true
Multiply life by the power of two
All the shiny little trinkets of temptation
(make new friends)
Something new instead of something old
(but keep the old)
All you gotta do is scratch beneath the surface
(but remember what is gold)
And it’s fools gold
(what is gold)
Fools gold
(what is gold)
Fools gold
Now we're talking about a difficult thing
And your eyes are getting wet
I took us for better and I took us for worse
Don’t you ever forget it
Now the steel bars between me and a promise
Suddenly bend with ease
The closer I'm bound in love to you
The closer I am to free
---
This isn't pain I'm feeling, it's nostalgia. -Ally McBeal
Monday, August 22, 2005
Thursday, August 11, 2005
:(
Overheard from a kid in Pateros who saw me give my ID to the guard at Pateros Elementary School: Gusto ko rin mag-aral diyan. Kaya lang wala akong pera.
I told her, di naman kelangan maraming pera para mag-aral sa UP.
But I really wasn't sure. UP charges five times less than a private school, and that's one heck of a deal, but I did have to spend here and there. Nevertheless, I wanted to reassure her that money should be the least of a ten-year-old child's problems, especially when it concerns her education. My heart was again slowly breaking, as it had hours earlier when I was reviewing the data requirements I would need for our plan, and reading the Pateros CLUP. The CLUP told very little on education. Just broad strokes, motherhood statements, but not even budget allocation for school facilities or teacher training or stuff that really mattered. I consider this an atrocity.
I suddenly didn't know to do. It's like a wall, this system that we have to face. To even push for a single program that would make students think feels like moving heaven and earth. And listening to that child made me want to get into a fight with a teacher or principal or her parents, everyone and everything, her entire world that pushes her into believeing that she can't get to where she wants to be.
Reality bites me every single day, but it doesn't hurt as much as when it comes from a child.
I told her, di naman kelangan maraming pera para mag-aral sa UP.
But I really wasn't sure. UP charges five times less than a private school, and that's one heck of a deal, but I did have to spend here and there. Nevertheless, I wanted to reassure her that money should be the least of a ten-year-old child's problems, especially when it concerns her education. My heart was again slowly breaking, as it had hours earlier when I was reviewing the data requirements I would need for our plan, and reading the Pateros CLUP. The CLUP told very little on education. Just broad strokes, motherhood statements, but not even budget allocation for school facilities or teacher training or stuff that really mattered. I consider this an atrocity.
I suddenly didn't know to do. It's like a wall, this system that we have to face. To even push for a single program that would make students think feels like moving heaven and earth. And listening to that child made me want to get into a fight with a teacher or principal or her parents, everyone and everything, her entire world that pushes her into believeing that she can't get to where she wants to be.
Reality bites me every single day, but it doesn't hurt as much as when it comes from a child.
Monday, August 08, 2005
A MONTH, A NIGHT
On a lighter, happier note, I had a great time last weekend!:)
Last Friday after class, Mark, Len, Lorenzo, Ricky and I went to Bahay ng Alumni to watch Hale in concert. Finally! I had passed up too many chances to watch the-band-that-helped-me-fall-in-love-again (Hah! Betcha didn't know that.), plus I haven't been to a concert in such a looooong time, that I can't let this pass me by again.
We decided to eat at Chocolate Kiss before going to the concert. It was just above the concert venue so it seemed convenient. Not so, as the place was packed to the brim that night. So many had turned up at Chokiss, but was it to eat or to lean over the balcony railing and watch?
Hmm, time wasted waiting for a table: 20 minutes. No matter. UP bands were still playing anyway. We got a table several songs later. Good enough. Still got time to eat before Hale pops out at 11 pm, according to Len. All good.
Caesar's Salad, Chicken a la Kiev, iced tea and my bebe beside me. Ah, this is the life. Mark experimented with some beef dish. Len contented herself with ordering cake and running out the restaurant every now and then to check the bands. Lorenzo ordered more than he can handle,:D and Ricky slowly but surely attacked his plate. I was famished; I ate with relish.
About an hour later, we walked out and quietly peered at the band playing in the hall below. We still haven't bought our tickets. Oh, but where are the ticket-sellers? I pretended to ask myself. We decided they were nowhere to be found, so we just stood there, free-riders all. Yes, bad indeed.
When the guard finally realized we were opportunists (ouch), he shooed us away, and we ended up on the other side Bahay ng Alumni, peering over the balcony, watching bands play, free-riders still. Nyehehe. Very bad.
Half expecting karma to roll by on a giant wheel and flatten our shameless souls out, I watched the concert. Watched and complained (tsk3, the nerve. Very bad indeed.). I don't really like it when concert organizers intersperse bands on the main lineup with other, hmm, minor bands. No offense to fledgling musical groups. I mean, I strongly support OPM, and cheer on whenever I see promising local artists. I go by my principle of buying only original albums - IF they're by local groups (otherwise, kudos to piracy! hehe). Okay lang din yung front acts, for their exposure, at okay na rin yung pasingit-singit minsan sa gitna ng concert, pero OA talaga pag marami na. OA. Lalo na pag walang kwenta. True, there is an abundance of good, independent, undiscovered bands and singers out there, but the one playing in front was not one of them. Salindiwa was pure torture, man. Torture. Useless band. I'm sorry. I'm sure glad I didn't pay.
Kainis din yung mga hosts. I felt sorry for them in a way. It was their job to talk, who could blame them if nobody wanted to listen?
Anyway, we stood there, sat sometimes, wanted to sleep through the other performances, couldn't, settled on the railings, and waited.
Past 11. The guard was walking towards us again, and I could feel a battle of wills emerging. Mark was all set to kill the guy--in his world where he is an assasin, of course.
Minutes to Hale. The guard approached us. I knew it. As much as I wanted to be bad at that very moment, I knew I had no right, so we went down like he told us to. In my mind I was digging for a perfect justification as to why we were where we were. Pero wala talagang lusot. Left and right, organizers were shoving us in the direction far, far away from Hale.
I was ready to concede, admit to our sin of not looking for the ticket sellers. But no. No no no no. This was not gonna happen. I didn't stay out this late to stare at the walls of the makeshift backstage just because nobody sold or asked for our tickets. I stood there, feeling a tantrum about to explode.
Ah, there it was.
"I cannot believe this! This is not happening. I managed to watch an F4 concert (and everybody knows the hell I went through for that) tapos Hale hindi ko mapapanood?!?!" Yep, like a bratty child I was wailing.
While I was behaving like a lunatic I caught a glimpse of a guy on the floor, silently fixing his stuff, drinking bottled water. Looks familar. Looks strangely, famously familiar. My vision suddenly expanded and I noticed every little detail around me, realizing at the same instant that I was, true enough, in the BACKSTAGE. Dingdingding. I whirled around and dragged Len to the wall. As I did, I caught Mark and Ricky snickering, and I knew my life was over.
BecauseShetLensiChampyungleadsingernyungnasalikodnatin!NakauposasahigIcannotbelievethisnarinigkayayungmgapinagsasasabinatin?omigosh!
I clung to her arm for dear life and stomped--as quietly as I could do that--over to Mark and Ricky. Such utter humiliation. And nobody even told us! Nobody pinched us or slapped or hissed at us to keep our voices and embarrassment level down. Horrible.
Down to the size of an ant, I scampered to the stairs and sat stoically. What was I to do? I wanted to get Champ's autograph, what was I to say? Hey Champ you're great I just pulled my most shameful brat act two feet away from you and hey can I get your signature? And by the way you write beautiful songs. Aaauuughh.
He was standing already, guitar in hand, leaning on the wall. Dammit!
12.02 am. Still on the stairs. I showed bebe the time, and we quietly acknowledged the one month that flew by. Mwah baby!;p But I'll die if I spend our first month listening to mere echoes of a concert.
Shrieks. Thunderous clapping. They were out of our sight and on the stage.
WAAAAAAHH!!!
Mark stood up and strode to spot where the band stood moments before they went up. He talked to an organizer, went back and led us all through the crowd. I can't remember what he told the organizer. All I know was that minutes later I found myself just a few meters from the stage, watching Hale live for the first time, in my baby's arms, all my worries gone.
Whew.
"Ok bang pang-1st monthsary?" bebe asked. Smile. Yup baby, 'tis good enough.:D
Postscript. Weird, I'm both slightly ashamed and proud of what we've done, but overall I'm just really happy. Hehe. Happy one month baby!
Last Friday after class, Mark, Len, Lorenzo, Ricky and I went to Bahay ng Alumni to watch Hale in concert. Finally! I had passed up too many chances to watch the-band-that-helped-me-fall-in-love-again (Hah! Betcha didn't know that.), plus I haven't been to a concert in such a looooong time, that I can't let this pass me by again.
We decided to eat at Chocolate Kiss before going to the concert. It was just above the concert venue so it seemed convenient. Not so, as the place was packed to the brim that night. So many had turned up at Chokiss, but was it to eat or to lean over the balcony railing and watch?
Hmm, time wasted waiting for a table: 20 minutes. No matter. UP bands were still playing anyway. We got a table several songs later. Good enough. Still got time to eat before Hale pops out at 11 pm, according to Len. All good.
Caesar's Salad, Chicken a la Kiev, iced tea and my bebe beside me. Ah, this is the life. Mark experimented with some beef dish. Len contented herself with ordering cake and running out the restaurant every now and then to check the bands. Lorenzo ordered more than he can handle,:D and Ricky slowly but surely attacked his plate. I was famished; I ate with relish.
About an hour later, we walked out and quietly peered at the band playing in the hall below. We still haven't bought our tickets. Oh, but where are the ticket-sellers? I pretended to ask myself. We decided they were nowhere to be found, so we just stood there, free-riders all. Yes, bad indeed.
When the guard finally realized we were opportunists (ouch), he shooed us away, and we ended up on the other side Bahay ng Alumni, peering over the balcony, watching bands play, free-riders still. Nyehehe. Very bad.
Half expecting karma to roll by on a giant wheel and flatten our shameless souls out, I watched the concert. Watched and complained (tsk3, the nerve. Very bad indeed.). I don't really like it when concert organizers intersperse bands on the main lineup with other, hmm, minor bands. No offense to fledgling musical groups. I mean, I strongly support OPM, and cheer on whenever I see promising local artists. I go by my principle of buying only original albums - IF they're by local groups (otherwise, kudos to piracy! hehe). Okay lang din yung front acts, for their exposure, at okay na rin yung pasingit-singit minsan sa gitna ng concert, pero OA talaga pag marami na. OA. Lalo na pag walang kwenta. True, there is an abundance of good, independent, undiscovered bands and singers out there, but the one playing in front was not one of them. Salindiwa was pure torture, man. Torture. Useless band. I'm sorry. I'm sure glad I didn't pay.
Kainis din yung mga hosts. I felt sorry for them in a way. It was their job to talk, who could blame them if nobody wanted to listen?
Anyway, we stood there, sat sometimes, wanted to sleep through the other performances, couldn't, settled on the railings, and waited.
Past 11. The guard was walking towards us again, and I could feel a battle of wills emerging. Mark was all set to kill the guy--in his world where he is an assasin, of course.
Minutes to Hale. The guard approached us. I knew it. As much as I wanted to be bad at that very moment, I knew I had no right, so we went down like he told us to. In my mind I was digging for a perfect justification as to why we were where we were. Pero wala talagang lusot. Left and right, organizers were shoving us in the direction far, far away from Hale.
I was ready to concede, admit to our sin of not looking for the ticket sellers. But no. No no no no. This was not gonna happen. I didn't stay out this late to stare at the walls of the makeshift backstage just because nobody sold or asked for our tickets. I stood there, feeling a tantrum about to explode.
Ah, there it was.
"I cannot believe this! This is not happening. I managed to watch an F4 concert (and everybody knows the hell I went through for that) tapos Hale hindi ko mapapanood?!?!" Yep, like a bratty child I was wailing.
While I was behaving like a lunatic I caught a glimpse of a guy on the floor, silently fixing his stuff, drinking bottled water. Looks familar. Looks strangely, famously familiar. My vision suddenly expanded and I noticed every little detail around me, realizing at the same instant that I was, true enough, in the BACKSTAGE. Dingdingding. I whirled around and dragged Len to the wall. As I did, I caught Mark and Ricky snickering, and I knew my life was over.
BecauseShetLensiChampyungleadsingernyungnasalikodnatin!NakauposasahigIcannotbelievethisnarinigkayayungmgapinagsasasabinatin?omigosh!
I clung to her arm for dear life and stomped--as quietly as I could do that--over to Mark and Ricky. Such utter humiliation. And nobody even told us! Nobody pinched us or slapped or hissed at us to keep our voices and embarrassment level down. Horrible.
Down to the size of an ant, I scampered to the stairs and sat stoically. What was I to do? I wanted to get Champ's autograph, what was I to say? Hey Champ you're great I just pulled my most shameful brat act two feet away from you and hey can I get your signature? And by the way you write beautiful songs. Aaauuughh.
He was standing already, guitar in hand, leaning on the wall. Dammit!
12.02 am. Still on the stairs. I showed bebe the time, and we quietly acknowledged the one month that flew by. Mwah baby!;p But I'll die if I spend our first month listening to mere echoes of a concert.
Shrieks. Thunderous clapping. They were out of our sight and on the stage.
WAAAAAAHH!!!
Mark stood up and strode to spot where the band stood moments before they went up. He talked to an organizer, went back and led us all through the crowd. I can't remember what he told the organizer. All I know was that minutes later I found myself just a few meters from the stage, watching Hale live for the first time, in my baby's arms, all my worries gone.
Whew.
"Ok bang pang-1st monthsary?" bebe asked. Smile. Yup baby, 'tis good enough.:D
Postscript. Weird, I'm both slightly ashamed and proud of what we've done, but overall I'm just really happy. Hehe. Happy one month baby!
JUST ARGH
This is NOT a good day.
I wake up early because I have to go to Pateros to get data for our workshop. I want to get there and finish everything before lunch so I can have the afternoon off. Mark texts just as he's about to leave for Manila, and I go take a shower, trying to figure out how to get to Pateros without a car.
Do I leave immediately after getting dressed? No. After breakfast? No. After late riser Ivan has woken up? No. Instead, I sit on the couch waiting AGAIN for Mama to finish getting dressed and fixing her stuff and doing Just. Everything. Imaginable. For the life of me I don't know why I still wait for her even though I know I'd be sitting for an hour or more doing nothing, just watching time slip away. Maybe this is really all my fault, coz I could have up and walked out the house and left on my own. But I didn't. Sometimes I do hate it that I'm such a lazy brat. AAAARRGH.
So we leave the house at 10 am. It takes us 15-20 minutes to get to the Caltex station near Bicutan where my mom drops me off. I hurry out the car and slam the door with all my frustration, and wait fora cab. And then I realize I just might be wasting my time here. By my calculations, IF I'm lucky to get a cab in the next ten minutes, I would arrive in Pateros just after 11. And since in government lunchtime unofficially begins at 11:30, I would have less than 40 minutes to go to five offices, get the data and interview the staff before they lock up their offices and leave me hanging until 1:30, which in government is the unofficial end of lunchbreak. AAAARGGHH.
So with all bitterness, regret and mounting fury I walk away from Caltex and walk to SM, where I decide to spend the next two and a half hours still waiting. Pateros will be dealt with after lunch.
On my way I man from a truck whistles at me. Whistles and honks his horn. ARRRGGGHHH. F*ck you asshole! Why does the male population insist on retaining their cavemen instincts? Haven't they evolved yet?!?! I'm wearing jeans and shirt and covered up in a jacket, for crying out loud. Women are beautiful creatures, yes, but even if I'm dressed in the tiniest skirt with the appeal of a sex goddess, that does not justify such retarded behavior. Do they expect us to feel good about being gawked at?!?! It was all I could do to keep myself from fishing out a coin and throwing it at the guy's face.
Three steps later, I catch the whiff and wake of a garbage truck that just finished collecting garbage meters from where I was. I look down and see bits of wet trash and maggots crawling near my feet. AAAAARRRGGGHHHHH.
Move on Lara. Just maggots. I walk up the overpass that crosses the entry to the Skyway, instead of just dodging passing cars (because I'm trying to be a good citizen). But the feeling of goodwill that would have compensated for the crap of the last 30 minutes quickly disappear as soon as I hear a PLOP and a SPLASH. I look down and see my umbrella, seconds ago nestled in my bag, now lying in a puddle at the overpass landing. I attempt to pick it up, but it's just too goddam...WET. Worse, my pants are wet from the impact. I can just imagine all the germs seeping into my legs. I know, praning na kung praning, but I hate the feeling of unidentified wet. I look at the umbrella for three seconds, and decide to leave it lying. Defeated, I walk away, willing myself not to feel sentimental about a stupid umbrella that isn't even mine. But see, it was just only recently that I made it a habit to bring an umbrella, and I can't help but feel sad. AAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH.
So with all my morning spirit practically gone I trudge to SM, shell out money and sink into a flimsy chair at Netopia. I slam on the keys hoping they absorb my anger. Two hours left until my next hurdle. Unless this computer store suddenly blows up and flings my remains all over the third floor. Now that will definitely spoil my mood.
I wake up early because I have to go to Pateros to get data for our workshop. I want to get there and finish everything before lunch so I can have the afternoon off. Mark texts just as he's about to leave for Manila, and I go take a shower, trying to figure out how to get to Pateros without a car.
Do I leave immediately after getting dressed? No. After breakfast? No. After late riser Ivan has woken up? No. Instead, I sit on the couch waiting AGAIN for Mama to finish getting dressed and fixing her stuff and doing Just. Everything. Imaginable. For the life of me I don't know why I still wait for her even though I know I'd be sitting for an hour or more doing nothing, just watching time slip away. Maybe this is really all my fault, coz I could have up and walked out the house and left on my own. But I didn't. Sometimes I do hate it that I'm such a lazy brat. AAAARRGH.
So we leave the house at 10 am. It takes us 15-20 minutes to get to the Caltex station near Bicutan where my mom drops me off. I hurry out the car and slam the door with all my frustration, and wait fora cab. And then I realize I just might be wasting my time here. By my calculations, IF I'm lucky to get a cab in the next ten minutes, I would arrive in Pateros just after 11. And since in government lunchtime unofficially begins at 11:30, I would have less than 40 minutes to go to five offices, get the data and interview the staff before they lock up their offices and leave me hanging until 1:30, which in government is the unofficial end of lunchbreak. AAAARGGHH.
So with all bitterness, regret and mounting fury I walk away from Caltex and walk to SM, where I decide to spend the next two and a half hours still waiting. Pateros will be dealt with after lunch.
On my way I man from a truck whistles at me. Whistles and honks his horn. ARRRGGGHHH. F*ck you asshole! Why does the male population insist on retaining their cavemen instincts? Haven't they evolved yet?!?! I'm wearing jeans and shirt and covered up in a jacket, for crying out loud. Women are beautiful creatures, yes, but even if I'm dressed in the tiniest skirt with the appeal of a sex goddess, that does not justify such retarded behavior. Do they expect us to feel good about being gawked at?!?! It was all I could do to keep myself from fishing out a coin and throwing it at the guy's face.
Three steps later, I catch the whiff and wake of a garbage truck that just finished collecting garbage meters from where I was. I look down and see bits of wet trash and maggots crawling near my feet. AAAAARRRGGGHHHHH.
Move on Lara. Just maggots. I walk up the overpass that crosses the entry to the Skyway, instead of just dodging passing cars (because I'm trying to be a good citizen). But the feeling of goodwill that would have compensated for the crap of the last 30 minutes quickly disappear as soon as I hear a PLOP and a SPLASH. I look down and see my umbrella, seconds ago nestled in my bag, now lying in a puddle at the overpass landing. I attempt to pick it up, but it's just too goddam...WET. Worse, my pants are wet from the impact. I can just imagine all the germs seeping into my legs. I know, praning na kung praning, but I hate the feeling of unidentified wet. I look at the umbrella for three seconds, and decide to leave it lying. Defeated, I walk away, willing myself not to feel sentimental about a stupid umbrella that isn't even mine. But see, it was just only recently that I made it a habit to bring an umbrella, and I can't help but feel sad. AAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH.
So with all my morning spirit practically gone I trudge to SM, shell out money and sink into a flimsy chair at Netopia. I slam on the keys hoping they absorb my anger. Two hours left until my next hurdle. Unless this computer store suddenly blows up and flings my remains all over the third floor. Now that will definitely spoil my mood.
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