Segue Friday


I don’t know if I have this catastrophe clairvoyance of some kind but I had this qualm yesterday that something bad would come about. Names like BBL, Jasper Jean, Manrose, Jell, and the likes seemed glued in my mind in the entire morning trip to work.

Stress was overflowing in the office. Making the right decision for the sake of the greater staff put me in the situation of being upbraided by the higher position. I was nagged because I saved the whole team from a clear NG. Now what’s wrong with that? Sometimes I just don’t understand if my work’s too shitty that it becomes so personal for the rest and it triggers hidden reprisal and individual miff for each other. Work is work. I am just a plain employee and no superhero at all. But I’d rather choose to shun the potential hassles and dilemmas than to put the entire team at stake just to teach someone a lesson. So from now on, I’ll just keep my opinions and revisions JUST for myself. It’s not my problem if everyone else wants a malady.

Anyway, being distraught made me throw a couple of punches on the comfort room walls. Not an “emo” though it felt fucking good. Then I had to smoke a lot every hour just to let all the shit out.

My own spot at the back of our building was violated by an unwanted sight and defiled by cookie-cutter yuppies. I had nowhere to chill out and muse on but in the portico smoking area which was as tranquil as Baclaran at 9 A.M. Include the Starbucks’ customers indulging on their hot afternoon frappuccinos.

As I was passing a table there which consisted of two cono men, I stopped for a moment to answer a text message. They had this look at me as if I was some kind of a beggar standing-by that coffee shop. Well, I was wearing dirty shirt, pants, and shoes while they were wearing corporate attires. OK. I just ignored them.

In this world today, people are stereotyped and judged by what they are wanted to be judged and stereotyped. The material things like clothes and mobile phones are now basis of who you are. Lame.

Honestly, I wasn’t affected at all. I wasn’t also eavesdropping on their conversation but since they talked too loud, their words were so clear in my ears.

Cono Guy 1: Wow sarap talaga ng mocha prap ko. I lab Starbacks!

Cono Guy 2: Tara waypay tayo gawin kong stats sa Peysbuk. Haha.

Cono Guy 1: Yung sister ko nag-teks pala kanina kasi sa school isa siya sa mga lates. Ayun may warning…

Message Sent.

I continued walking to the yosihan with my room temperature Pepsi in-can. And I kid you not people, I didn’t make that conversation up. Your tall mocha frappe from “Starbacks” won’t change your professional and social status. That’s a mere fact and at least I have proper diction.

Five sticks of Marlboro Lights did calm me a bit beside some SMS inquiries, diverted phone calls, and real ones too. It was time to go back up and finish my remaining workload which was to listen to the whole Fuseboxx’s first album. As I press number 27 in the elevator, I thought of walking home after work for no absolute reason at all. Why not? It’s a good form of exercise and I can save seven to eleven pesos fare.

5 P.M.

Hate is something you can live without. Yeah right. I was still mad. I couldn’t control it. I was not really “ok” the whole day until evening. I didn’t understand the songs I was listening to. I wasn’t able to write a new post here. I didn’t enjoy my Friday though it wasn’t my fault that there was gripe in me. I was trying to forget everything but it all kept adding up. I’m sorry for those I yelled and cursed at.


There’s a lot of way to solve a problem. Small things might and can turn out to be a big solution after all. If you really want everything to be alright then you should purge all the shit that hinders you and your world from being stable. Simple.


Fast forward.

So I went home about 9 P.M. I took a Epifanio De los Santos Avenue monster PUB. Did I mention earlier I was supposed to walk? As I was alighting the bus in Guadalupe, in the proper unloading area, my Mr. Postman bag got stuck somewhere in the bus’ door and I couldn’t get loose. The conductor (and the driver) didn’t notice me so the bus kept moving and I was in the verge of being dragged down in the middle of EDSA. Yeah I got scared. Luckily, I finally got off when the bus started speeding up again near the middle of the high-way and I also managed to avoid the collision between me and the raging motorcycles on the side. It was a close call. The shiver from my head to my spine to my knees was the same when I got hit by a cab some time last year. Nicotine killed it after some seconds and seeing the ad of a lotion (?) made my day: Immaculate Complexion. Cool wordplay, eh?

So then I figured out that I can portend disasters after all. Yeah I can predict mishaps and accidents. This is not the first time it happened and this is just another proof that it’s real. Woah! Is this a gift from God or from the Demon below?


No one can predict the future, man. I am no Nostradamus. I am not an astrologer of some kind. Everything is just a coincident. A concurrent of situations and rapid paradigm shifts. I am not the real thing. There’s not even one.

The moral of the story: You should understand and follow instructions correctly.

OK so much for the nonsense… I hate to rain on your parade but the liquor ban is coming.


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