sept 9 is a special day.

I feel that the day was cursed. Because even though how much I tried to uplift my spirit, circumstances pulled me down. The fact that the day was cursed made it special. Special not because it is Pom’s or Jacques’ birthday, special not because it was another fun day with DebSoc, special not because of the free cuts, but special because…

I woke up early feeling well. Credits to the generous sleeping time. Left the house by 9 a.m. hoping not to be late for my 10 o’clock class. Somebody is trying to change. But ended up being caught in traffic for [drumrolls] TWO HOURS. So I had my first absent for that class rather than being usually late. Thanks to the nonsensical fiesta called Kakanin Festival by the Municipality of San Mateo. The municipality doesn’t even produce a considerable about of rice delicacies to have a Kakanin Festival! The nerve to have a parade celebrating stupidity. I am always tempted to text Mayor through the equally nonsensical project in collaboration with Talk n’ Text called “Basta kay Mayor, Bida ka!”. I just want to applaud them for a job well done, for a decision well thought of. To overemphasize the stellar intellectual level of the San Mateo Admin, let me just say that for a two-lane road running within the municipality, they even allowed bazaars beside the road – leading to a total, major, freaking traffic.

Add the fact that things were more special because I was having a major headache. A headache made worse by the sight of light, abrupt changes in position, and noise. Interestingly enough, the same headache that goes away whenever I’m in front of the PC surfing the net.

Then come night time. Let the heavy rain pour down and piss me more. I had no choice but to force the transformation of my shoes to fit the rain. Instant rain boots sans the waterproof feature. I also felt that my pants turned into rug when rain water started creeping up and up. That was one of the times I wished I had a motorcycle so spare my jeepney seatmates from getting wet. The FX wasn’t even an option, unless I wanted to die cold.

I finally touched the grounds of home. I attempted to feel better by soliciting sympathize from my mother; telling her how unfortunate I am for the traffic and all the shitnitz. But, no. I had to be screamed at because I was charged of “slacking off” and I should have “anticipated” the horrible traffic because I “knew” it all along. Two words: not true. So as a good child with a good day and a throbbing head, I had to engage in a shout fest. Nobody won.

The day ended with a bitter sleep. Come the next day, I felt dumb during my Creative Nonfiction class. Actually, I felt dumb the whole day.

And oh, the day is also special because Philip from high school said so. Thanks for the free ride.

Late post.