sweet as a eucalyptus, terrible as a tempest
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It's pre-rush hour morning. one of the rare days when i am able to wake up and leave the house early enough to beat Manila traffic. today i shall not waste an hour and a half cursing buses and taxis.
I love dry days. summer is good. crisp cool dec to february is better. any day really, as long as it doesn't rain.
i move into the blinding rising sun. the car visor is not doing much to filter its rays. my months-old disposable contacts begin to irritate my eyes a bit. i rely on a quick prayer and good old cross-my-fingers and hope i don't run into anything. i get by.
out the little side street into empty-enough EDSA. how is it that despite the decreased volume of vehicles in the highway one still can't accelerate like knievel? it's because of the idiotic owner-type jeepneys taking a stroll in the middle of the street. taking up two lanes. your lane.
ah, this is too good a day to get irritated.
early mornings. jamless traffic. clear blue sky. are enough to make me smile. a muted smile.
early mornings. travel time is reduced to 30 minutes - a good half an hour when i forget my misery. i wish i could make the ride last longer. hah, the irony.
rarely, too, do i get home as the sun begins to set. exit EDSA and move into the side streets. i drive into the waning sun. and after twenty five years, i realized why my place was called West side.
they follow me everywhere...as in...everywhere i go.
i'm the pied piper of creepy crawling creatures.
is it the way i smell? my eating habits?? what is it??!?!
i can endure a thousand abusive bosses, but not this.
only please do not make me choose.
enough already lah!
Just do.
test me if i still have any personality left in me.
i'm sick of being a child.
i've overed my stay in this phase.
i, shucks, never thought i'd think this.
i have to graduate from juvenile hall soon.
editorial meetings are always laced with non-business discussions. the usual brainstorming interspersed with gossip.
at one time, the conversation got to this top honcho, married of course, dating this young actor. Really? but she looks so...angelic!
i think it comes with the job, one says. topmen just do it - date around, have flavors of the month, make the new young thing their girlfriends.
which is not at all an excuse for fooling around, but that's not what this post is about.
i've heard this "girlfriend" term used by married men a few times as an example. "If i had a girlfriend, i would...", "if it were my girlfriend...", "it's like talking to my girlfriend..." "i would only say things like that to my wife, or my girlfriend..."
the assumption is that it's hypothetical, because the men are married. my assumptions that is. or that girlfriends were references to their pre-nuptial past.
i don't know if those statements convey more than i read from them. i don't know that the other men in the conversation would take those statements nonchalantly as a given that it would be perfectly normal, and likely, for the talker to have a girlfriend.
i don't know if a reference like "like my girlfriend" means being regarded as one, as one fitting the mold. it's extremely disturbing.
