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Terça-feira, Agosto 03, 2004

Time Thwarts Me From Writing You

So you know how to manage your precious time. And you feel so fortunate that you weren't like the one who wrote this entry and all the other posts in this site because had you been someone like this writer, you probably would not have stayed very long in this earth. So before I go desperate and run mad, go ahead and tell me some practical tips on how you do it.

I feel like changing the day’s number of hours from twenty-four to thirty-six so I can still maintain my 10-hour sleep. Times are hard and God knows sleep is my refuge, my wondrous state of deliverance from anything that I can associate the word fatigue with. Fatigue -- ah! What wicked term!

I have just bid farewell to my so-called days off (Thursday and Friday) with extreme distress. Last Thursday was the moment (read, hardship) of sophomore student nurses: Community Health Nursing. I, along with my group mates, am forced to go to Ramon Magsaysay Health Center in Tondo (I believe it's in Tondo) to get our assigned community where we would create our nursing care plans for appropriate promotion of health. I would continue doing this until the semester ends and that would be SO MUCH FUN. Uh-huh.

My feet hurt at the end of the day (particularly from Wednesday to Friday). I myself am not sure if it's because of the shoes or me since I don't like wearing heeled pairs of shoes. Often, I take five rides home so commuting is a painstaking agony. Just imagine yourself standing at EDSA during late afternoon or evening, looking for a Kanan or Merville jeepney. You wait but there's no sign of the ride you're dying to take. And then suddenly you see a Merville jeepney approaching. And like an agitated Kofi, you dash (a.k.a. jaywalk) toward that PUV but then you realized too late that it's already packed with people and squeezing in won't be a possibility. You didn't have any choice except to walk a little farther from EDSA-Taft intersection. Walk you go, tolerating the excruciating ache of your feet. There's nothing interesting to see along EDSA. The city lights, karaoke bars, beggars, transvestites, the commuters, do not amuse you so you sort of entertained in your odd mind the vivid memory of the Starex accident and your erstwhile blue, swollen left foot, and of course, your pair of yellow crutches. Maybe it's Descartes' interactionism (where mind can produce effects in the body and vice versa) that made your feet even more painful so you try to start thinking less tragic thoughts. It has frequently been like this, you mused. Yeah, you keep saying that, but believe that in your entire life as a commuter, you have NEVER walked along EDSA this far! Like LRT EDSA station-to-The Heritage Hotel-far! MRT Taft Station to Roxas Boulevard! Imagine yourself getting there with sore feet just to ride a jeep to Merville. Inside, you knew you have died. You go home. Dog-tired. It's been one hell of a school day and tomorrow's another. So sleep as long as you wish, but be sure to wake up at five the next morning.

Enough ranting. Sometimes you just have to let things out. And this is my way of doing it. For once in my life, I can be narcissistic in a very artistic means. But with great responsibility comes greater burden and fatigue. I may not be this conceited for long. Time thwarts me from writing in this weblog so I would be posting even more infrequently since I can no longer write on Thursdays. To the very few people who read this blog, may you bear with me. (Laoagan, 08/01/2004)


Carnaval took a nap at 10:44:00 AM

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