Ma non-relationship wit Sean [his real name]
I won’t even try fo’ a codename tho’ he reads tis ‘coz he just TOO INDIFF’RENT or TOO DENSE to give a damn. I can imagine him now shruggin’ his shoulders & already typin’ in an NBA or some otha web address to replace mine only halfway thru readin’ tha first sentence of ma post. [“Wala namang picture, haba masyado ng post mo!] Fo’ two years I’ve been havin’ a non-relationship wit him…
AN INTERMISSION OF THOUGHTS: [as heard on tha background]
Maver [referrin’ to tha TV which only had channel 7]: “Ano ba bat nagka-gañan? Ginalaw pa kasi alam namang manood ako ng Jenny eh!
Paver: “Kala ko ba manonood ka ng Meteor Garden kaya ko nga inaayos sa baba eh!”
Maver: “Wala akong sinasabing ganon! Alam namang Jenny na pag ganitong oras eh!”
Paver: “Eh narinig ko sabi mo kay Len sa phone, Meteor Garden na!”
Maver: “Hindi naman ibig sabihin manonood ako nun eh!”
Paver [startin to get upset & raise his voice]: “Aba! rinig na rinig ko kanina gusto mong ipa-ayos yung TV, kaya nga bumaba pa ako eh!
Maver [in a neutral, calm voice]: “Ewan ko sayo, ayoko na ng maingay… basta ako mananahimik na lang ako dito.”
Paver: “Parehong-pareho kayo ng anak mo, ang linaw linaw ng usapan tapos iniiba!”
Maver: “Oo na, sige na! ‘nonood na’ ko ng “Jenny”!
And now to continue…
…He interrupts me ‘bout 20 times durin’ our phone calls just at that crucial moment when am nearin’ tha climax of ma story -juz to GO & PLAY WIT THA CAT. Plus, he is so cold & non-comittal, usin’ one-word answers & unwilling to talk ‘bout thangs that are troublin’ him. Oftentimes, I hafta invent emotions fo’ him to try & guess at how hes really feelin. I think he has PETER PAN SYNDROME. Wut is a PETER PAN SYNDROME? PPS or Peter Pans, according to Dan Diley are men who have NEVER GROWN UP or REFUSE TO GROW UP.
Dan said that those wit PPS are men who:
-> are more keen on bein’ friendly to mere acquaintances than in showin’ love & concern fo’ tha family
-> use “I don’t know” and “I don’t care” as their defense mechanisms.
-> have social incapacity & emotional paralysis.
-> sadness manifested as forc’d gaiety, childish pranks, or nervous laughter.
-> impotent to deal wit an assertive female on equal footing & so dates women who are
younger or whose actions suggest immaturity.
-> say they love ya but can’t seem to remember how to express love.
-> narcissism locks em inside themselves.
-> get hostile when ya reflect on his defensiveness.
-> successful in resistin’ help.
-> rarely finish college in tha usual allotted time/believes they’re employ’d in tha wrong
capacity but fails to do anything bout it but complain.
-> often stingy ‘cept when it comes to their own indulgences.
-> appear to have unexplain’d fears& lack self-confidence but refuse to talk bout it.
-> accuses ya of getting too emotional while they appear to be above it all, sittin’ like a
stone when you are angry.
-> easily offended by jobs they see as beneath em. get into employment difficulty ‘coz of
severe procrastination or become workaholics in an attempt to prove their worth.
-> work hard to have fun @ parties & tend to push themselves beyond reasonable limits
in participative sports.
-> find it impossible to say they’re sorry & find it extremely difficult to express their
feelings.
-> operate wit prejudicial premises you’ll never understand thus you cannot successfully
argue a point wit em.
-> expresses concern ‘bout yer probs only after you’ve complain’d bout his indiff’rence.
-> have lost touch wit their emotions & simply dunno wut they feel.
Sunday, January 25
Friday, January 23
I have alwez been famous fo’ tha poker unreacting unchangin’ expression on ma face & whenever I do react fin’lly, it’d be when tha moment had pass’d -minutes, hours, or even days later. Here is proof…
Around 1 PM today, I was inform’d via text message from a pal that one of ma best pals in tha world is gonna be leavin fo’ tha US for gewd tis Saturday & that her despedida party wud take place next day. As I was busy wit work, I automatically typed a message typically written to tha departer askin her why shez leavin’ me and why she’d never mention’d leavin’ before and then storing that li’l known fact of her li'l stunt of keepin me in tha dark bwt her departure at tha back of ma mind to be return’d to & summon’d forth again only when I’ve finish’d ma tasks.
Later when I was home & had nuthin’ productive to do, out of loneliness, I got to tha habit of thinkin’ up persons I ma felt like callin’ on tha phone. And then I remember’d. One of ma best pals -who’s also one of those few persons whom I’d like to torment wit ma rantings & general complaints ‘bout life at tha other end of tha line- is leavin. And shez leavin’ fo’ gewd. And then I was bawlin’ and gettin’ ma eyes all puffy wit tha mix’d frustration of not comin’ up wit a person to call at that moment & thinkin’ bout tha fututre wit ma narrow’d down list of persons to call.
Around 1 PM today, I was inform’d via text message from a pal that one of ma best pals in tha world is gonna be leavin fo’ tha US for gewd tis Saturday & that her despedida party wud take place next day. As I was busy wit work, I automatically typed a message typically written to tha departer askin her why shez leavin’ me and why she’d never mention’d leavin’ before and then storing that li’l known fact of her li'l stunt of keepin me in tha dark bwt her departure at tha back of ma mind to be return’d to & summon’d forth again only when I’ve finish’d ma tasks.
Later when I was home & had nuthin’ productive to do, out of loneliness, I got to tha habit of thinkin’ up persons I ma felt like callin’ on tha phone. And then I remember’d. One of ma best pals -who’s also one of those few persons whom I’d like to torment wit ma rantings & general complaints ‘bout life at tha other end of tha line- is leavin. And shez leavin’ fo’ gewd. And then I was bawlin’ and gettin’ ma eyes all puffy wit tha mix’d frustration of not comin’ up wit a person to call at that moment & thinkin’ bout tha fututre wit ma narrow’d down list of persons to call.
Saturday, January 17
I hate goin’ to church. It’s not so much as I hate tha actual church procedure itself …not tha singin’ nor tha sittin’ down to listen to tha lecture nor tha gettin’ up to pray fo’ minutes on end nor even tha givin’ of money near tha end. It’s tha circumstances before it that I can't really stand. Every Sunday I git hell from paver makin’ me eat quick when I’ve barely sat & do thangs quick so we can go to church on time. Thursdays I git hell from both paver and maver. I especially loathe Thursdays when I hafta wake up @ 4:30 & go to tha earliest mass since I ain’t have no time fo’ it any otha time since I be workin’ tha rest of tha day. I sooo hate bein’ rush’d! I alwez ask’d paver why we can’t go @ 8pm on Wednesdays instead juz like bro do, but no! He juz want me to wake up @ tha crack of dawn every Thursday & show up lookin’ dead for work! From 4:30 til tha time I git in tha safety of tha church, maver & paver wud be havin’ an endless naggin’ contest between em two tryin’ to outdo each other in raisin’ their voices & givin’ more insults to me. As maver goes to tha afternoon church, paver wud do tha noble job of naggin’ enuf fo’ tha two of em tha moment we leave tha house & it ain’t less fun than he&maver goin’ at it together as paver is tha supreme cuss-spewin’ human & his voice is 5 times as loud & irritatin’ as maver. And I really really hate it tha way they’d git me so disoriented like an annoyin’ person shoutin’ “boo!” at yer face when yer tryin’ to concentrate so that I usually forgit sumthin ‘coz they be practically shovin’ me outta tha house & paver wud run outta tha house in a huff so that I hafta follow his big, long strides coz I ain’t carryin no tricycle coins wit me to git to church. And I hate hate hate leavin’ ma phone/hanky/diskette/earrings/compact and I hate hate hate hate lookin’ like tha wrath of God even more wit tha oldest shirt on ma back & a mismatchd skirt tha product of getting’ dress’d so quickly when there’s still no light & a dragon is breathin’ down yer neck. And I think to ma’self when I’m more grown-up & I git out of their house I won’t go to church at all. Coz I alwez come to church fumin’ mad, wishin’ ill thoughts to ma progenitors & ready to snap @ ma seatmates shud they gimme one funny look or smirk @ ma uncomb’d hair anyway. And I think is it really worth it goin’ to church if it does me more bad than gewd? And anotha thang I hate is when maver bullies me to give more to church. She’d really pick away @ ma conscience tha way she did before when we came to visit relatives & she made me feel really really bad til I buckled down & gave 500 to a relative while she only made bro give a hundred & fifty as if bro don’t git paid twice as much. And anyway, she’d tell me that aside from tha annual “meager” 4-digit figure I give to church [which shed say is sooo selfish of me] I shud give ma own alms 2x a week to church now & ain’t I ashamed coz bro does now. I say let’s talk again when I’m 25 [bro’s age]. I know that all tha naggin’ & hell I git from her & paver ‘bout church thangs affect ma relationship to tha Big Man. They make me lose tha enthusiasm I wud’ve otherwise had fo’ luvin’ God more freely & more wholeheartedly. How cud I when I alwez associate God ways like goin to church or givin’ alms to hell from maver & paver? Mebbe that’s why people hate religion. I mean why does it hafta be so difficult? I mean mebbe it’s not so difficult but really followin’ tha rules or realy bein’ into it like bein’ active or bein’ an officer or bendin yer back backwards to suck up to God is difficult. And to be a know-it-all self-important prissy person -which I’ll eventually be if I try to git active & try to score a ticket to heaven- duzen really sit well wit me. Does God love masochists? Why doesn’t He want us to do fun thangs like have sex before marriage or love sumone from anotha religion? Are we all goin’ to hell? Exactly how much can I git away wit and still go to heaven?
Sunday, January 11
After applyin’ in a daily broadsheet through sumone paver had tha chance to interact wit in his Tamiya days sumtym in August, tha friend fin’lly came through for me & tha daily call’d me to come over last week fo’ an interview. Wit clients lookin’ down on me wit their haughty noses in ma current place of employment & tha possibility of bein’ kick’d out still hoverin’ over ma pretty head, I was all willin’ to look at options that are possibly bett’r & go fo’ sidelines that cud bring in more fun [& money!] fo’ me. Only when I went, it turn’d out not to be an interview but an information sheet filling-up session a.k.a. tha name-dropping questionnaire. Now I usually prepare for tha irritating info sheet fill-up sesh by bringin’ ma notebook of answer’d clichéd queschns [a notebook wit ready made answers to quescns like wut is ma best qualitites & worst etc.] but nuthin prepar’d me for tha 6-page headache I spent answerin’ in a chilly empty room. A quarter of tha whole 6-page info sheet pretty much dealt wit enumeratin’ all tha peepz I know in tis lifetime & then some. Pages 1-2 ask’d me who ma parents & sibs are, their age, their occupation, their residence & their company address. Same goes fo’ ma maternal & paternal grandparents. Tha same pages ask for persons I know who are workin’ for tha media, advertising agency, radio & also asks for their position, company address, residence, etc. It also ask’d to enumerate those I know who are workin’ for a hotel, motel or inn as well as those who are working for banks, financial investment companies, etc. Al must come of course, wit their position, office address, etc. 3-4 demands that I name 10 persons from private entities who are close to ma family & who cud vouch for ma integrity & honesty & also asks for tha works. [mention’d abuv] It also ask’d fo’ anotha 10 persons I know in tha government who cud also vouch fo’ ma integrity. Pages 5-6 ask fo’ tha exact number of uncles I have as well as exact number of aunts then proceed to ask me to enumerate them as well as their age, & again the works. [office address, position, residence] It also ask’d me to enumerate ma nephews & nieces wit corresponding info bout them and also provided sufficient blanks fo’ uncles-in-law and aunts-in-law wit corresponding mini-profile. As I can’t understand some of tha queschns & can’t consult any’un to ask queschns bout tha queschns since tha antipatika-lookin’ admin person banish’d me in an empty room at another floor, I left most of tha queschns blank. Fo’ instance, I can’t understand if uncles-in-law & aunts-in-law pertain to ma husband’s uncles & aunts [tha way I see it] or to ma uncles & aunts’ spouses [tha way paver sees it when I texted him to ask], so I juz put a big “N/A” over tha blanks. And tha nephews & nieces bit, I dunno if they only want ma bro’s children [in which case I won’t be able to fill it up as ma bro’s still single] or they want any which nephew/niece I cud come up wit even if they be nephews I have through 3rd or 4th cuzin relations. And also I dunno if I shud include ma cuzin’s stepchildren or only put those which has our blood in em. ‘Twas also confusin’ to answer tha queschn which goes wut office machine I can operate. It duzen say enumerate programs but machines/equipments so I juz wrote fax machine & personal computer instead of Adobe, Word etc. also I wasn’t sho’ whether to put personal computer or include tha pc’s brand. And then it also got confusin’ like it wud start to ask a steady stream of queschns answerable by yes or no & then tha next queschn [which is lined up next to tha yes or no queschn like it belong’d in one category] wud suddenly have you choosin between 3 options wit blanks preceding em -& it diden say “check any of tha 3”. And then it also asks fo’ some ancient info like yer elementary & high school rating and asks some thing I’m totally clueless ‘bout like tha number of words I can type per minute which diden even give options to choose from & also ask’d intrudin’ queschns like ma monthly expenses. [as if I’d tell em tha fact that I spend more than I earn!]
Wednesday, January 7
Feeling for the lost and confused
Yesterday I watch’d 4 men sitting across looking alert and swiveling their heads left and right in anticipated search for their destination. It’s Father Abraham & his 3 children from faraway. Faraway was immediately assum’d as a look was taken at their dust-cover’d outdated shoes and bulky bags. Tha three sons all had tha same dark skin, straight hair, and slanted eyes, obviously takin’ after their mother rather than the curly-hair’d, wide-eyed, fair skinn’d Father Abraham. I watch’d em wit tha same concentration as they watch’d tha road, waitin’ for em to git off & curious if they really know where they’re going.
Today as I got on tha jeep wit paver, luck had me seated next to an extreme sideway sittin, butt-pointin’, rigid lady in her forties who wuden budge when paver was askin her to move so that her rear had me & paver cramm’d into a very small space in tha jeep’s corner while her fat ass was takin up space fo’ two passengers. Soon, anotha man loaded onto her otha side & ask’d her to do tha same thang, but stil she refus’d to sit facin’ forward like any sane passenger wud do. Then in tha middle of tha ride, she suddenly spoke a stream of fast Chinese words to her seatmate on tha left to which tha seatmate responded by givin’ her directions in Tagalog. Unable to understand Tagalog, she spoke more words in quick frantic Chinese directing it to tha man next to her seatmate [to which he responded in Tagalog] then to tha sleepy old man wit slanting eyes across from us who shook his head no to her. By then, I was laughin’ so hard at ma poor serious Chinese seatmate [whose back was turn’d to me] that I was ‘fraid that she [or her rear] cud feel me shakin’ wit laughter & be offended by my behavior. When I recover’d I ask’d her where she was going in English and wonder’d why no one thought of speakin’ English to her. By then I really start to feel fo’ tha Sharp Rear & I nudg’d paver to ask him to help tha lady out but paver was in his suplado no-talking-in-the-jeep mood & shruggd me off haughtily as he –prolly tha only one in tha jeep who’s not payin attention to tha Chinese Sharp Rear in strict compliance to his weird no-talking-in-the-jeep rule- pretended to be preoccupied with tha streets. We learn’d that tha Sharp Rear was goin’ to Ongpin. At one point, Sharp Rear was about to jump down tha jeep after a student got off but every’un shouted for her to stay in her seat, as we were still far off from her destination. Tis got tha fair-skinnd lady across from us ‘fessin up that she was goin to Ongpin too & that they can git off together. It also turn’d out that Snow White can understand Sharp Rear afterall & even spoke some back to Sharp Rear. After some time, paver barked tha announcement fo’ our payment in his booming voice which no doubt scared nervous Sharp Rear on ma left & set me off to anotha round of laughing again.
Wut got me feeling for the lost and confused
Since Christmas, I’ve been meaning to go to Ali Mall to buy ma’self some sweater I once saw & fell in luv wit. Failin’ to get it after tha Christmas break, I resolv’d to buy it before tha New Year break ended & it’s back to work again. But on tha Sunday I was plannin’ to buy it, Maver diden wake me up like she usually does so we cud go to church in tha morn. Since paver partied at a neighbor’s birthday tha previous night and had but little sleep, she told me that paver & me wud hafta attend tha 4-6pm shift while she & brover attended tha early mass. Thinkin’ she did tis on purpose since she knows I git tha urge to mall-hop on Sundays & prolly thinkin’ that I can’t venture off by ma own at night, I ventured off by ma own soon as me & paver got home & soon as I fetch’d ma bag & wallet to head into tha unknown at 6:30 pm in ma church garb of skirt & feet-hurtin’ sandals. I got on a Cubao jeep, ignored tha rowdy jologs who made jokes ‘bout me bein’ tha other one’s gurlfriend & ask’d tha fare collector beside tha driver how much I shud pay for a trip goin to Ali Mall. Encouraging & helpful as all drivers & driver assistants shud be to passengers who don’t know where they’re headed, tha fare collector responded by not sayin’ anythang at all & lookin’ at me wit a smirk on his face. Good thang tha elderly driver responded. Sometime when tha only passengers left were me, a gurl beside me & a lady across, tha lady held up her bag to show me & tha gurl tha wide slash it had on its side & tha trail of white sugar beside her. Seem’d like tha rowdy jologs slash’d her bag, which only contain’d store-bought sugar & some apples. Tha lady said that she had been keepin’ her mint in her pocket & so tha boys fail’d to catch anythang from her bag but tha sprinklin’ of sugar comin’ loose. Durin’ tha ride, tha constant feelin’ that I have miss’d ma destination kept me to continuously ask tha driver “Ali Mall na ba?” Fin’lly, tha fare collector told me to git off at a Mercury drugstore & told me that walkin’ a few miles more towards tha direction he pointed wud lead me to Ali Mall. Since Rustann’s was tha nearest visible lighted sign in tha night, I went straight for it & tried a few exits before rememberin’ that Ali Mall is right next to SM and started lookin’ out for SM as well. At Ali Mall, I found out that tha sweater was gone & so I consoled ma’self by buyin’ not-as-gorgeous blouse at tha same store which I’m wearin’ fo tha first time today here at work. [ma boss had not yet return’d that’s why am postin ;-)] since I was frustrated in not findin’ tha sweater, I went to SM to buy a bottle of GAP Dream instead but once again I was disappointed & not wantin’ to go home wit juz one purchase, I bought 2 soaps at Rustann’s beauty bar. At quarter to 8, I thought ‘twas time to go home. I walk’d & walk’d till I found a place where there are alotta jeeps comin’ & goin’ but after observin’ em, I found out that they were all headed to either Antipolo or Project sumthin so I walk’d some more till I’ve been ‘round tha same places twice, tryin to figure out where Isetann is as I remember’d goin’ there wit maver & paver on our way home a month ago. When I fin’lly found it, I got on a Quiapo/España jeep, told tha driver “isang Altura”, then immediately paid tha exact amount I paid comin’ to Ali Mall. When we were at ma school, I suddenly understood why paver alwez pays our fare only when we’re about to git off jeeps…tha driver had a flat tire & as there were only three of us left in his jeep, he gave back tha big, gangly man beside me his money & told him to git off, kept tha boy beside me who’s headed to Vito Cruz only a few miles away, & totally ignored tha clueless gurly carryin’ brand new soaps & blouse who dunno where shes goin’. So I got off after tha big man & figured out that I shud prolly board a jeep wit tha same signboard as tha one that went flat so when tha next Quiapo jeep pass’d, I flagg’d & happily boarded next to tha driver since I rarely git to sit upfront & I lov’d sittin’ in front & pretendin’ to be tha fare collector. Wut I forgot was tha fact that I was wearin’ a skirt & hafta take a big step to be able to board tha high seat of ma coveted passenger position & bein’ tha clumsy oaf that I am, prolly flash’d tha driver. I handed him a twenty-peso bill and repeated “isang Altura” but he wasn’t carryin change & told me that 3 Pesos wud be okay wit him as I don’t have change either ‘cept fo’ 4 Peso coins which I stupidly thought was not enuf as it stuck to ma mind that tha fare was still 5 Pesos even if we’re already in España. I handed him 4. Ten minutes into tha ride, he felt tha need to break tha silence by announcin’ “Ikaw na lang pala pasahero ko. Is-pesyal ka pala!” to which tryin to figure out if he was juz bein friendly or hittin’ on me, I replied wit a weak “Oo nga eh.” When we reach’d Quiapo, it began to enter ma mind that tha reason tha jeep was label’d Quiapo was coz Quiapo was its last destination before turnin’ back round to head where it came from. Suddenly ma clear steady vision of goin home started to become cloudy. I only brighten’d up when tha driver started shoutin “O, es-em, es-em!!!” to egg passersby on to board his jeep. Of course, I was on tha right jeep! Tha driver did say SM Centerpoint, diden he? I was on tha right track home! So I was confident even if we pass’d by ma former school again. And then tha face of Sonny Belmonte in his billboard came into ma view. Ain’t Sonny Belmonte tha mayor of Quezon City? And where was I again? I consoled ma’self thinking I was in Araneta & that eventually it’ll head to Centerpoint then Altura. I was doin’ a pretty gewd job of convincin’ ma’self when passengers begin to declare “Fairview” as their destination and I panicked once again. Tha last straw was when I begin seein’ tha big flashy signs for restaurants & bars in Timog like Pegasus & such. Fumin’ that tha driver diden say a word when I clearly told him I was goin’ to Altura hours ago, [& to think he was beside me!] I ask’d if he still had any plans of goin’ to Altura at tha same tellin’ him that I thought I was on tha wrong jeep. Instead of tellin’ me where to git off & where to ride tha right jeep home, tha driver juz smiled at me & told me hell be headin back to Quiapo pretty soon. Thinkin’ that was that, I resign’d back to ma seat til tha guy seatin’ at ma back spoke up & told me I shud git off at _ [can’t remember] ‘coz I’d only stray farther away from home shud I wait for tha jeep to go to Quiapo again. At tha right moment, tha guy told me to git off & instructed me to walk til I was past tha fly-over before ridin’ a bus label’d “Crossing Ibabaw” then getting’ off at tha “Central”. He diden tell me if I shud cross or juz wait for a bus after reachin’ tha fly-over. I was ‘bout to cross when a guy walk’d past & I stopp’d him to confirm whether I was headed fo tha right direction. In utter hopelessness & doom to git home right away, I also shared ma misfortunes fo’ tha earlier part of tha evenin’. Takin pity, he said that we cud ride tha bus together & proceeded in introducin’ himself & askin fo’ ma cel no. [which I diden give] prolly mullin’over whether he shud actually sacrifice bein’ late to work [he told me later on he was headed to work in Makati] to accompany a stranger to her destination, it took him eons to fin’lly flag down a “Crossing Ibabaw” bus tho’ I’ve watch’d about 10 buses pass us by [4 of which are almost empty]. Fin’lly, I tapp’d him impatiently on tha shoulder & ask’d wheteher he diden think it was time fo’ us to board a bus. After textin’ his companion, he ask’d if ‘twas a’ite wit me to stand in a bus before boarding a bus that was jampack’d wit passengers. Bein’ tha lucky gurl that I was agreed and spent half of tha ride’s duration bumpin’ into tha scrawny guy at ma back & sittin’ once on tha face of tha woman seated at ma back everytime tha bus wud lurch forward. Seein’ as I cuden stand straight wut more go thru tha contents of ma bag to git out ma wallet & pay tha konduktor, tha stranger who was ma key towards headin’ home paid for both our fare. At Mega Mall where he told me ‘twas time to git off, he even ask’d a guard fo’ directions & cross’d tha street wit me towards where many right jeeps goin home are available fo’ me to hop on. After givin me his cel no. [I still refus’d to give him mine] I was once again on a Quiapo jeep but tis time on one that’ll git me home. Tha last surprise fo’ tha night came as tha man sittin’ upfront turn’d out to be some sorta criminal coz two policemen shone their flashlight on his face & got him to unload tha jeep. Of course tha underbridge market I hafta walk thru to git home was already very dim & very empty which is an appropriate semi-ending for ma night out of listless walkin’ & hopeless commutin’. Tha grand finale was 5 slaps across tha face from ma maver when I got home at 10:30 pm.
Yesterday I watch’d 4 men sitting across looking alert and swiveling their heads left and right in anticipated search for their destination. It’s Father Abraham & his 3 children from faraway. Faraway was immediately assum’d as a look was taken at their dust-cover’d outdated shoes and bulky bags. Tha three sons all had tha same dark skin, straight hair, and slanted eyes, obviously takin’ after their mother rather than the curly-hair’d, wide-eyed, fair skinn’d Father Abraham. I watch’d em wit tha same concentration as they watch’d tha road, waitin’ for em to git off & curious if they really know where they’re going.
Today as I got on tha jeep wit paver, luck had me seated next to an extreme sideway sittin, butt-pointin’, rigid lady in her forties who wuden budge when paver was askin her to move so that her rear had me & paver cramm’d into a very small space in tha jeep’s corner while her fat ass was takin up space fo’ two passengers. Soon, anotha man loaded onto her otha side & ask’d her to do tha same thang, but stil she refus’d to sit facin’ forward like any sane passenger wud do. Then in tha middle of tha ride, she suddenly spoke a stream of fast Chinese words to her seatmate on tha left to which tha seatmate responded by givin’ her directions in Tagalog. Unable to understand Tagalog, she spoke more words in quick frantic Chinese directing it to tha man next to her seatmate [to which he responded in Tagalog] then to tha sleepy old man wit slanting eyes across from us who shook his head no to her. By then, I was laughin’ so hard at ma poor serious Chinese seatmate [whose back was turn’d to me] that I was ‘fraid that she [or her rear] cud feel me shakin’ wit laughter & be offended by my behavior. When I recover’d I ask’d her where she was going in English and wonder’d why no one thought of speakin’ English to her. By then I really start to feel fo’ tha Sharp Rear & I nudg’d paver to ask him to help tha lady out but paver was in his suplado no-talking-in-the-jeep mood & shruggd me off haughtily as he –prolly tha only one in tha jeep who’s not payin attention to tha Chinese Sharp Rear in strict compliance to his weird no-talking-in-the-jeep rule- pretended to be preoccupied with tha streets. We learn’d that tha Sharp Rear was goin’ to Ongpin. At one point, Sharp Rear was about to jump down tha jeep after a student got off but every’un shouted for her to stay in her seat, as we were still far off from her destination. Tis got tha fair-skinnd lady across from us ‘fessin up that she was goin to Ongpin too & that they can git off together. It also turn’d out that Snow White can understand Sharp Rear afterall & even spoke some back to Sharp Rear. After some time, paver barked tha announcement fo’ our payment in his booming voice which no doubt scared nervous Sharp Rear on ma left & set me off to anotha round of laughing again.
Wut got me feeling for the lost and confused
Since Christmas, I’ve been meaning to go to Ali Mall to buy ma’self some sweater I once saw & fell in luv wit. Failin’ to get it after tha Christmas break, I resolv’d to buy it before tha New Year break ended & it’s back to work again. But on tha Sunday I was plannin’ to buy it, Maver diden wake me up like she usually does so we cud go to church in tha morn. Since paver partied at a neighbor’s birthday tha previous night and had but little sleep, she told me that paver & me wud hafta attend tha 4-6pm shift while she & brover attended tha early mass. Thinkin’ she did tis on purpose since she knows I git tha urge to mall-hop on Sundays & prolly thinkin’ that I can’t venture off by ma own at night, I ventured off by ma own soon as me & paver got home & soon as I fetch’d ma bag & wallet to head into tha unknown at 6:30 pm in ma church garb of skirt & feet-hurtin’ sandals. I got on a Cubao jeep, ignored tha rowdy jologs who made jokes ‘bout me bein’ tha other one’s gurlfriend & ask’d tha fare collector beside tha driver how much I shud pay for a trip goin to Ali Mall. Encouraging & helpful as all drivers & driver assistants shud be to passengers who don’t know where they’re headed, tha fare collector responded by not sayin’ anythang at all & lookin’ at me wit a smirk on his face. Good thang tha elderly driver responded. Sometime when tha only passengers left were me, a gurl beside me & a lady across, tha lady held up her bag to show me & tha gurl tha wide slash it had on its side & tha trail of white sugar beside her. Seem’d like tha rowdy jologs slash’d her bag, which only contain’d store-bought sugar & some apples. Tha lady said that she had been keepin’ her mint in her pocket & so tha boys fail’d to catch anythang from her bag but tha sprinklin’ of sugar comin’ loose. Durin’ tha ride, tha constant feelin’ that I have miss’d ma destination kept me to continuously ask tha driver “Ali Mall na ba?” Fin’lly, tha fare collector told me to git off at a Mercury drugstore & told me that walkin’ a few miles more towards tha direction he pointed wud lead me to Ali Mall. Since Rustann’s was tha nearest visible lighted sign in tha night, I went straight for it & tried a few exits before rememberin’ that Ali Mall is right next to SM and started lookin’ out for SM as well. At Ali Mall, I found out that tha sweater was gone & so I consoled ma’self by buyin’ not-as-gorgeous blouse at tha same store which I’m wearin’ fo tha first time today here at work. [ma boss had not yet return’d that’s why am postin ;-)] since I was frustrated in not findin’ tha sweater, I went to SM to buy a bottle of GAP Dream instead but once again I was disappointed & not wantin’ to go home wit juz one purchase, I bought 2 soaps at Rustann’s beauty bar. At quarter to 8, I thought ‘twas time to go home. I walk’d & walk’d till I found a place where there are alotta jeeps comin’ & goin’ but after observin’ em, I found out that they were all headed to either Antipolo or Project sumthin so I walk’d some more till I’ve been ‘round tha same places twice, tryin to figure out where Isetann is as I remember’d goin’ there wit maver & paver on our way home a month ago. When I fin’lly found it, I got on a Quiapo/España jeep, told tha driver “isang Altura”, then immediately paid tha exact amount I paid comin’ to Ali Mall. When we were at ma school, I suddenly understood why paver alwez pays our fare only when we’re about to git off jeeps…tha driver had a flat tire & as there were only three of us left in his jeep, he gave back tha big, gangly man beside me his money & told him to git off, kept tha boy beside me who’s headed to Vito Cruz only a few miles away, & totally ignored tha clueless gurly carryin’ brand new soaps & blouse who dunno where shes goin’. So I got off after tha big man & figured out that I shud prolly board a jeep wit tha same signboard as tha one that went flat so when tha next Quiapo jeep pass’d, I flagg’d & happily boarded next to tha driver since I rarely git to sit upfront & I lov’d sittin’ in front & pretendin’ to be tha fare collector. Wut I forgot was tha fact that I was wearin’ a skirt & hafta take a big step to be able to board tha high seat of ma coveted passenger position & bein’ tha clumsy oaf that I am, prolly flash’d tha driver. I handed him a twenty-peso bill and repeated “isang Altura” but he wasn’t carryin change & told me that 3 Pesos wud be okay wit him as I don’t have change either ‘cept fo’ 4 Peso coins which I stupidly thought was not enuf as it stuck to ma mind that tha fare was still 5 Pesos even if we’re already in España. I handed him 4. Ten minutes into tha ride, he felt tha need to break tha silence by announcin’ “Ikaw na lang pala pasahero ko. Is-pesyal ka pala!” to which tryin to figure out if he was juz bein friendly or hittin’ on me, I replied wit a weak “Oo nga eh.” When we reach’d Quiapo, it began to enter ma mind that tha reason tha jeep was label’d Quiapo was coz Quiapo was its last destination before turnin’ back round to head where it came from. Suddenly ma clear steady vision of goin home started to become cloudy. I only brighten’d up when tha driver started shoutin “O, es-em, es-em!!!” to egg passersby on to board his jeep. Of course, I was on tha right jeep! Tha driver did say SM Centerpoint, diden he? I was on tha right track home! So I was confident even if we pass’d by ma former school again. And then tha face of Sonny Belmonte in his billboard came into ma view. Ain’t Sonny Belmonte tha mayor of Quezon City? And where was I again? I consoled ma’self thinking I was in Araneta & that eventually it’ll head to Centerpoint then Altura. I was doin’ a pretty gewd job of convincin’ ma’self when passengers begin to declare “Fairview” as their destination and I panicked once again. Tha last straw was when I begin seein’ tha big flashy signs for restaurants & bars in Timog like Pegasus & such. Fumin’ that tha driver diden say a word when I clearly told him I was goin’ to Altura hours ago, [& to think he was beside me!] I ask’d if he still had any plans of goin’ to Altura at tha same tellin’ him that I thought I was on tha wrong jeep. Instead of tellin’ me where to git off & where to ride tha right jeep home, tha driver juz smiled at me & told me hell be headin back to Quiapo pretty soon. Thinkin’ that was that, I resign’d back to ma seat til tha guy seatin’ at ma back spoke up & told me I shud git off at _ [can’t remember] ‘coz I’d only stray farther away from home shud I wait for tha jeep to go to Quiapo again. At tha right moment, tha guy told me to git off & instructed me to walk til I was past tha fly-over before ridin’ a bus label’d “Crossing Ibabaw” then getting’ off at tha “Central”. He diden tell me if I shud cross or juz wait for a bus after reachin’ tha fly-over. I was ‘bout to cross when a guy walk’d past & I stopp’d him to confirm whether I was headed fo tha right direction. In utter hopelessness & doom to git home right away, I also shared ma misfortunes fo’ tha earlier part of tha evenin’. Takin pity, he said that we cud ride tha bus together & proceeded in introducin’ himself & askin fo’ ma cel no. [which I diden give] prolly mullin’over whether he shud actually sacrifice bein’ late to work [he told me later on he was headed to work in Makati] to accompany a stranger to her destination, it took him eons to fin’lly flag down a “Crossing Ibabaw” bus tho’ I’ve watch’d about 10 buses pass us by [4 of which are almost empty]. Fin’lly, I tapp’d him impatiently on tha shoulder & ask’d wheteher he diden think it was time fo’ us to board a bus. After textin’ his companion, he ask’d if ‘twas a’ite wit me to stand in a bus before boarding a bus that was jampack’d wit passengers. Bein’ tha lucky gurl that I was agreed and spent half of tha ride’s duration bumpin’ into tha scrawny guy at ma back & sittin’ once on tha face of tha woman seated at ma back everytime tha bus wud lurch forward. Seein’ as I cuden stand straight wut more go thru tha contents of ma bag to git out ma wallet & pay tha konduktor, tha stranger who was ma key towards headin’ home paid for both our fare. At Mega Mall where he told me ‘twas time to git off, he even ask’d a guard fo’ directions & cross’d tha street wit me towards where many right jeeps goin home are available fo’ me to hop on. After givin me his cel no. [I still refus’d to give him mine] I was once again on a Quiapo jeep but tis time on one that’ll git me home. Tha last surprise fo’ tha night came as tha man sittin’ upfront turn’d out to be some sorta criminal coz two policemen shone their flashlight on his face & got him to unload tha jeep. Of course tha underbridge market I hafta walk thru to git home was already very dim & very empty which is an appropriate semi-ending for ma night out of listless walkin’ & hopeless commutin’. Tha grand finale was 5 slaps across tha face from ma maver when I got home at 10:30 pm.
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