The best decision I made this week was to skip a Friday night out and just go for a 12-hour sleep. Goodness it was BTS. Of all the events that transpired in the second half of August, majority would be trivial, grueling, but remarkable enough to commit to memory. I apologize for the lack of creativity in delivering the stories. It is a known fact that mere chronology is boring. Here goes!
Monsoon rains. In as far as monies is concerned, the monsoon rains that struck Luzon August 17 adversely affected close to 3-million people and cost the country around P700-million in damages to agriculture and infrastructure. That does not include the emotional cost of two holidays I’ve lost in view of pouring complaints.
The thing about working for a utility company is that in times of disaster, you have to be the last man standing. AND the thing about working for the corporate communications team of a utility company is that, even if the world would end tomorrow, you’d still have to make a post-event release about it with a nice quote from the CEO. After that, you can savor the devastation and drink iced tea from the sun deck. #thelife
Lesbians in the hood. I can’t recall how many times I complained about not having enough lesbian friends, so I finally met some last Saturday and it turned out quite nicely! The course of our discussion revealed that despite being out with family, friends, workmates, enemies, manong, manang, and the dog, I am still clueless about how to be a proper lesbian. Perhaps situating myself in the Kinsey scale would be a good start.
Middle-class mass action against Pork (oink). Good friend J. and I met at Dome Café that Monday free of guilt about not joining the rally. Pork-lady + lawmakers stealing P10-billion in taxpayers’ money is a crime I can’t forgive, and yes, it fucking hurts every time I see my payslip. Yet, I never lost sight of that lacuna between a mere show of sentiment and actual justice. The Pork Barrel is a longstanding instrument of corruption and like most Filipinos I want it abolished, wiped-out, flushed, and not just rebranded. Do you wonder if the Palace thinks the same? *smirk*
‘Mag-ingat ka sa tomboy’ (Be wary of lesbians). Boredom led J. and myself to the kili-kili of Cainta, Rizal the same day to visit a Tarot reader. She lived in a small house near Tahanang Walang Hagdan with her grandchildren and a few cats. Anyway, the first words she uttered after I sat across her were: Be wary of lesbians.
And then my mind went: WHAT SERIOUSLY, I’M A FUCKING MENACE EVEN TO MYSELF HOW VERY REASSURING HOW IT UPLIFTS MY FUCKING CONFIDENCE BUT WAIT I JUST MET LESBIANS YESTERDAY TANGINA NAMAN PAPA GOD ANO ‘TO MATUTULOG NA LANG AKO SA ILALIM NG BATO HANGGANG MAGSARA YUNG KEPS KO GANON TEKA BAKA NAMAN MUKHA LANG AKONG TOMBOY TODAY. The conversation with the tarot reader (TR) ensued:
TR: May girlfriend ka ngayon? (Do you have a girlfriend?)
Me: Wala po. (None)
TR: Yung susunod ang sisira sa ulo mo. (Rough translation: The next one will make you go cray cray).
Me: *Weeping for my fate. Fuck, fuck, fuck.*
TR: May makakarelasyon kang may edad, may mga anak. (You will have a relationship with someone older and has children).
Me: La Di Da.
At the opposite end of the room, J. sat trying to control her laughter. Dear J., some friend you are.
Gastroenteritis. The following day I had to skip work because of fever and nausea and found out J. was feeling under the weather as well. I suspect it was the salad from Dome, because I puked it all the night after I got home from miss tarot reader. So off I went to the hospital hoping to get a prescription for Iterax—yep, I need strong anti-histamine because I’m allergic to paracetamol—only to find out I’d be sixteenth in line. In the end, dear doctor said I should just go for a sponge bath and not take meds for fever. I got home empty handed, tired, and with my fever worse than before.
And that’s a wrap. September be kind! Here’s to less sick days, more money, love, joy, peace, happiness, and every fucking cliche we aspire to have in life!