So It Goes

If You Want Me To Stay - Sly and the Family Stone

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?