So It Goes
I screamed. I was alone,
unloading all my pent anger in a claustrophobic elevator. How did this happen?
Why me of all people?
Although spare in luck, the
morning and afternoon I spent in the office went down like a slice of pizza on
a hungry stomach (though less satisfying). Today wasn’t a good day. I couldn’t
finish my assigned work even if I had a solution. And I was scolded for
neglecting a company policy the day before. I dissatisfyingly left the office,
and hoped that I would be productive tonight by tackling my other assignment: my web design project.
Before heading home, I visited
the bookstore. My creativity was dried and I needed inspirations for a web
page. The origami book looked tempting (origami was my hobby in my elementary
years), but the price made me hem and haw: should I buy it? After brooding for
half an hour, I decided against it, and promptly took the bus home.
Ah, yes, the bus. The TV
showed 24 Oras and I left just before they broadcasted their life-changing
headline: Christine Reyes about to do a sexy movie. Watch as 24 Oras’ ratings
skyrocket. FHM Nation rules.
My folks go out every
Tuesday, and I expected to be home alone for a couple of hours. Nevermind that
I bring my keys 95% of the time: even when vacated, the gates are usually
unlocked, because I arrive soon after they leave and because our condominium’s
security is tight. So why of all days did they lock the gate on the exact day when
I didn’t bring the keys? I couldn’t get in and I’ll be spending at least 2
hours OUTSIDE!
And thus began the
screaming. I was in agony, blaming myself for stupidity and blaming everything
else for bad luck. Here I was, fired-up to start a web design, only to be
locked outside of my shelter. What was I supposed to do in two hours? Netopia
doesn’t have a Photoshop the same way as how the SONA doesn’t have an ounce of truth. My
nearest best friend, the only one who lives within the neighborhood, went to Japan. All my other friends live cities, if not islands, apart. And there were no theatres nearby to make the passing of time barely noticeable.
My only choice was to stay
in Starbucks, which I did. I spent the next few minutes finishing a book (Slaughterhouse
Five) with only 30 unread pages, sending SMS’s, and staring at some
latte-swirling customers as they yak tirelessly about their dumb colleagues.
Great! And that was 30 minutes of getting preoccupied. With at least 1:30 left,
I was left bored and having nothing else to do. So I sat and waited and sat and
waited, and time was comatose. And I was famished yet I refused to eat.
I came back home at 10:30
PM. My suffering felt longer than that. Few days before, I bemoaned that “Free
time has become an elusive luxury”. Guess what? I got more than 2 hours of free
time today, and I was unprepared for it.
How did this happen? Why me
of all people?
