Routine
You wake up. You switch off both the alarm and the electric fan, and you doze off again, after realizing your brother is off to work very early. You wake up, this time for real, 20 minutes after. You stretch, your version of an exercise. You always say you will perform a real exercise the next day. You get your towel and toiletries, and you see your mom is heading towards the washroom too. You again lightly argue who goes first. On the few times you give in (especially Fridays, when she needs to leave earlier because of the coding scheme), you try to eat breakfast without the appetite, knowing you have to eat since you will eventually get hungry. You stare at the fried something for the morning, usually hotdog, and scheme something for the next morning to get to the washroom way before your mom. You wonder why you always argue. You wonder why, on the many times you went ahead first, she always knocks and asks if you are done, and you always hold yourself back from sarcastically answering, “yes I am, but I really find it cool to hang out here inside for a while.” You always conclude that the “are you done?” question is really a rhetoric.
You get your turn. You try to adjust to the coldness of the water. You wonder what happens if water runs dry. Hmmm. You wash your hair, then your body, then your face. You sing, by the way. On some days, you have to shave your facial hair. You do not like these days. You spend extra time in the bathroom, and you risk wounding your face yet again. You ponder: if cats have retractable claws, why can’t men have retractable facial hair? You admit to yourself that you also like the effect of your stubbles, for it makes you look older and rough, for you will always be teased for looking like a student. And you picture all those students in the campus who look way older than you. If you switch clothes with them, outsiders won’t even notice.
You then proceed to dress up. You go up and down the stairs, always forgetting to procure everything you need at only one time. You have always wondered why there is a very large probability that your pair of socks will have a missing half. You find it hard too to dry your feet. You are now dressed up, with your “scratch” shirt on, while you fold your uniform into your bag. You pick the white one if it’s a Monday. It’s your only official uniform, and you remind yourself to count the number of times you will be kidded that you look like a student. On Tuesdays, you get the beige striped polo. You have two choices for blue Wednesdays, and two more for mocha Thursdays. You are amazed that having less polos to choose from makes dressing up faster. You look at the dozens of polo in hangers that you stopped using after following the color scheme, and you think that your brothers, who now use them, are very fortunate. Weirdly, you do not like no-uniform Fridays. Still, you have to choose one, and you never make it a point to prolong the choosing. You get your toothbrush, off to your breakfast (if you still haven’t eaten) you go.
You love brushing your teeth. You always recognize your teeth’s imperfection. You then go up again to get your bag, and take a look at the mirror one last time. You practically never used a comb since high school. You pop in your supplements, and you leave the house.
You walk around two blocks where the jeepney stops. Riding a tricycle is actually cheaper by two pesos, but you’ve had a lot of bad experience that trikes take second fiddle. The jeep/tricycle travels seven blocks, then you alight the vehicle. Waiting for the red light, you scan the headlines of the broadsheets sold by the ambulant vendor. You cross the street with the other commuters. Sometimes, you spot students wearing the Pisay uniform, but, true to your shy nature, you pretend you did not see them. You choose your jeep that will bring you to Agham Road, and sit on the left side, since the sun is on the other side, and you don’t want the extra heat. You reach for your makeshift coin container, and pay the exact amount. You have had encounters with drivers who overcharge. You place your bag on your lap, and entertain yourself until you reach your destination.
Sometimes, you chance upon a jeep playing FM radio. This is not always a good thing; the song choices are not that good, but you have to admit that you know the words to most of them. You like it better when there is the sound of silence, and you get to choose which songs will play in your mind. You even change the lyrics of some songs and try to finish it, and you try to present it to your class. Continually, you reach for the change of the other riders.
You are observant. You look at the new billboards. You try to find advertisemnts with wrong grammar. You look at the shoes of the other male commuters, and decide if you want a similar pair yourself. You know they are headed towards Makati, since they are in long-sleeved shirts. The shoes will be wiped by a streetchild in rags, who will eventually ask for spare change, and suddenly Smokey Mountain’s Paraiso is the background music. The pollution will make you feel taking a bath is useless. When there’s heavy traffic, you look at the plate numbers of the vehicles, and play your weird numbers game. You wonder if it will catch on to your students. You laugh.
You notice a new trend. By the time you reach EDSA, majority of the commuters will alight, and since EDSA is the traffic capital, the jeepneys will then travel in reverse until it reaches Hi-Top, and proceed to the underpass (you have coined this trip as Hi-Way Ibabaw/Ilalim). This means you will have to alight near the Lung Center and walk some meters towards Agham. You try not to mind; this is actually faster as compared to the jeepney maintaining its supposed route. You wait until the cars stop, and you cross the street. You have already memorized the sequence of the color changes of the traffic lights. You remember your high school friend who first told you that you will eventually memorize traffic light patterns without you noticing it. You watch out for those pesky drivers who thinks that traffic lights are mere suggestions.
You ride a pedicab. You have always wanted to walk to save six pesos daily, but you think that the Agham Toda caters only to a few customers, so you decide to be pedalled to school. You mention the word “Science,” and you know the driver will bring you to Pisay. You get your ID and lace from your wallet and bag, respectively, connect them, and place it around your neck. You reach for your “coin-tainer” and prepare six pesos. If you arrive earlier than usual, you will encounter the MMDA traffic enforcer in yellow. He helps students cross the street, and everytime he sees you, he will always (yes, always) ask if you were the celebrity he saw on TV last night. You give him an awkward smile, but he will hound you until you reach the Pisay gate, opened by the lady guard. The MMDA person will confirm to the lady guard if indeed it was you on TV, as you try to walk faster. Apparently, you have made their day already, but yours is just starting.
*to be continued*
You get your turn. You try to adjust to the coldness of the water. You wonder what happens if water runs dry. Hmmm. You wash your hair, then your body, then your face. You sing, by the way. On some days, you have to shave your facial hair. You do not like these days. You spend extra time in the bathroom, and you risk wounding your face yet again. You ponder: if cats have retractable claws, why can’t men have retractable facial hair? You admit to yourself that you also like the effect of your stubbles, for it makes you look older and rough, for you will always be teased for looking like a student. And you picture all those students in the campus who look way older than you. If you switch clothes with them, outsiders won’t even notice.
You then proceed to dress up. You go up and down the stairs, always forgetting to procure everything you need at only one time. You have always wondered why there is a very large probability that your pair of socks will have a missing half. You find it hard too to dry your feet. You are now dressed up, with your “scratch” shirt on, while you fold your uniform into your bag. You pick the white one if it’s a Monday. It’s your only official uniform, and you remind yourself to count the number of times you will be kidded that you look like a student. On Tuesdays, you get the beige striped polo. You have two choices for blue Wednesdays, and two more for mocha Thursdays. You are amazed that having less polos to choose from makes dressing up faster. You look at the dozens of polo in hangers that you stopped using after following the color scheme, and you think that your brothers, who now use them, are very fortunate. Weirdly, you do not like no-uniform Fridays. Still, you have to choose one, and you never make it a point to prolong the choosing. You get your toothbrush, off to your breakfast (if you still haven’t eaten) you go.
You love brushing your teeth. You always recognize your teeth’s imperfection. You then go up again to get your bag, and take a look at the mirror one last time. You practically never used a comb since high school. You pop in your supplements, and you leave the house.
You walk around two blocks where the jeepney stops. Riding a tricycle is actually cheaper by two pesos, but you’ve had a lot of bad experience that trikes take second fiddle. The jeep/tricycle travels seven blocks, then you alight the vehicle. Waiting for the red light, you scan the headlines of the broadsheets sold by the ambulant vendor. You cross the street with the other commuters. Sometimes, you spot students wearing the Pisay uniform, but, true to your shy nature, you pretend you did not see them. You choose your jeep that will bring you to Agham Road, and sit on the left side, since the sun is on the other side, and you don’t want the extra heat. You reach for your makeshift coin container, and pay the exact amount. You have had encounters with drivers who overcharge. You place your bag on your lap, and entertain yourself until you reach your destination.
Sometimes, you chance upon a jeep playing FM radio. This is not always a good thing; the song choices are not that good, but you have to admit that you know the words to most of them. You like it better when there is the sound of silence, and you get to choose which songs will play in your mind. You even change the lyrics of some songs and try to finish it, and you try to present it to your class. Continually, you reach for the change of the other riders.
You are observant. You look at the new billboards. You try to find advertisemnts with wrong grammar. You look at the shoes of the other male commuters, and decide if you want a similar pair yourself. You know they are headed towards Makati, since they are in long-sleeved shirts. The shoes will be wiped by a streetchild in rags, who will eventually ask for spare change, and suddenly Smokey Mountain’s Paraiso is the background music. The pollution will make you feel taking a bath is useless. When there’s heavy traffic, you look at the plate numbers of the vehicles, and play your weird numbers game. You wonder if it will catch on to your students. You laugh.
You notice a new trend. By the time you reach EDSA, majority of the commuters will alight, and since EDSA is the traffic capital, the jeepneys will then travel in reverse until it reaches Hi-Top, and proceed to the underpass (you have coined this trip as Hi-Way Ibabaw/Ilalim). This means you will have to alight near the Lung Center and walk some meters towards Agham. You try not to mind; this is actually faster as compared to the jeepney maintaining its supposed route. You wait until the cars stop, and you cross the street. You have already memorized the sequence of the color changes of the traffic lights. You remember your high school friend who first told you that you will eventually memorize traffic light patterns without you noticing it. You watch out for those pesky drivers who thinks that traffic lights are mere suggestions.
You ride a pedicab. You have always wanted to walk to save six pesos daily, but you think that the Agham Toda caters only to a few customers, so you decide to be pedalled to school. You mention the word “Science,” and you know the driver will bring you to Pisay. You get your ID and lace from your wallet and bag, respectively, connect them, and place it around your neck. You reach for your “coin-tainer” and prepare six pesos. If you arrive earlier than usual, you will encounter the MMDA traffic enforcer in yellow. He helps students cross the street, and everytime he sees you, he will always (yes, always) ask if you were the celebrity he saw on TV last night. You give him an awkward smile, but he will hound you until you reach the Pisay gate, opened by the lady guard. The MMDA person will confirm to the lady guard if indeed it was you on TV, as you try to walk faster. Apparently, you have made their day already, but yours is just starting.
*to be continued*
posted by mardan at 11:27 PM
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