I woke up late as planned and was amused by what I saw on TV — back-to-back episodes of Cheers and Friends. I have not watched a single episode of Cheers until then but I’ve read a lot about how Friends paralleled with the show in many aspects (and partly because I watched an NBC tribute to Cheers, as introduced by the cast of Friends). Anyway, the Cheers episode was shown in 1983 (as evidenced by Shelley Long’s get-up) and the Friends episode was in the middle part of Season 9, originally aired around 2002.
In Friends, Phoebe and Joey decided to set up Ross and Rachel with horrible dates so they would realize how good they are together. The adorably dim Joey found a date for Ross, someone whom he thought is terribly terribly boring, describing her as:
She’s a teacher…she’s really into history and foreign movies… And oh, oh, she loves puzzles! Come on, who loves puzzles?! She even reads for pleasure!
Aray ko. Well, that’s Joey and we all know Joey. I’m not a teacher because it is too noble for me but the rest of the description…maybe I am really boring but it’s where I derive enjoyment from. I DO enjoy doing puzzles in-between flights and long road travels. I am not opinionated in a hardcore way but I am so into history and current events. I DO read for pleasure. It is in fact my prime source of pleasure, in the same league as eating and sleeping. So if they make up the boring barometer, then I am boring and very proud of it.
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I also went to UP to submit my request for reinstatement. For anything less than actual classes and enrollment, I always plan something to do there just to make my 2-hour trip worth it.
My FX ride to Philcoa always makes me sleepy, which manifests as soon as we turn right in Lerma, then I would be half-awake but disoriented to care or totally snooze until someone would always slam the door hard enough by the city hall which would wake me up. So today, before I doze off, a busload of prisoners (because they were all wearing yellow shirts and they were riding a bus that says Bureau of Corrections) sped alongside the FX where I was at and man, I totally felt bad for them. Imagine people sitting in each bus seats then put people between them sitting on top of the headrests. They were practically stacked together. They could have been transported in batches, right?! Whether it was part of their rehabilitation or something else is beyond me.
Anyway, I finished my business in the Department of PoliSci in two minutes flat. I had a quick lunch at CASAA, lingered in a book stall and bought Children of the Arbat by Anatoli Rybakov, and finally sat on the AS steps to read. At home na at home ano? I don’t really feel I belong there kaya TH na TH ang pakiki-belong na yan.
I was looking for something to sit on, not because I was nagmamaganda but because it escaped me that it was inappropriate to wear beige shorts when there’s a possibility that you will sit on the floor, when I pulled a print-out of our Professional Development Center’s chairman’s email asking for trainors for several Customer Service, Professional Development and Management classes. That’s when it hit me— if and when the Dean decides against accepting me back to the Master’s program, I will pursue my being a full-time trainor for the office. It’s more convenient although the only downside is I will not get a diploma out of it. I believe that I pulled it out from my messy bag to remind me that I will always have a fallback.
I did not sit on the email print-out and instead sat on a snagged copy of The Economist from our office. For two oblivious-to-the-world hours, I read a book. And I was not trying for a dramatic location but do you want to know where was I?
Base photo courtesy of Maryann54 of webshots (don’t blink-lol).
Oh anyway, it started to rain after two hours so I rode an MRT-bound jeep and spent another hour-and-a-half at McCafe in Quezon Avenue. I loved the view. The very busy EDSA and all these people walking. I forced myself to go home because the MRT station which was a stone’s throw away would be flocked by people going home from their offices. When I got there, it turned out that 5:20 p.m. isn’t killing time yet; I had a very cozy ride to Guadalupe— and cozy because I got to sit comfortably and I can see the metropolis whichever way I look (and of course, the opposite of “MRT cozy” is standing in the midst of a throng of women, bodies sometimes too close together you feel yourself getting dragged when a person moves to get off the train or get in the middle of the people puddle). Finally, it was not killing time yet because upon alighting in Guadalupe, people do not run fast to the card slots to get out of the station. That’s something I totally do not comprehend. When I go home after my night classes, as soon as the train doors open, people would run for their dear lives like those people on Ripley’s Believe It Or Not when there was a big sale of wedding gowns participated in by naked women. I’m like, relax, human beings, the card slots are not gonna leave with the train! So today it was the opposite of that as people were walking breezily, taking their sweet time. For once, people, gayahin nyo ako, why stress yourselves too much? Lahat tayo makakalabas ng station, relax lang. Plus, the climb to the “overpass” to get to the north-bound side of Guadalupe is really stressful, kaya save your energy for that. Anyway, since I forgot to pee while in McCafe, I just had to do it at the Guadalupe Commercial Center. While I rarely go super sensitive when it comes to anything “public”, there are certain restroom hygiene issues that I valuably uphold. In a nutshell, it was torture and my head hurt from holding my breath for that long. Whew.
I got home to a beaming mother who cannot stop raving about her trip to the Navotas fish port with her friends. The Desperate Housewives of Chromium Street embarked on an adventure, battling their (and my) fear of travelling side-by-side killer container vans, just to get to THE place to be when you want fresh (read: alive and jumping from fishnets) seafoods at a very cheap price. While telling her story, I opened our fridge and found seafoods sufficient to feed a multitude of pescetarians for a week. My uncle efficiently sliced, chopped, skinned them to fit several viands in his menu. My mom boasted that she spent less than 2,000 on all of them. Drat, I’m going to miss chicken.
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I felt I have not done so much today but I was happy.
Not only of everything that I managed to do, lazy ass that I certifiably am, but because I found myself lusting after Matthew Perry again. My hormones are wild.
I sealed my Tuesday with Studio 60 and Brothers & Sisters which I will write about next.
Five more days till the dark force comes.