I am a regular commuter, roughly 28 Km back and forth, everyday to go to school or to work. I am used to it after all this time but what really irritates me is the manner by which people going to and from this place talk when they see people they know aboard the same public utility vehicle. They talk so loud! Ack.
I hate listening to the chatter created by people I do not know, especially on public places. The problem is, as I’ve said, they speak so loudly and I hate how their words seem to squeeze on my ear, no matter how hard I try to loose them, the words just seem to sink directly on my consciousness.
However, to make things less worse, sometimes the speeches that has forced their way into my ear, I try to analyze and be a sociologist interpreter of some sort. Sometimes, what I discover upon reflecting from their horrendous habit results into post-worthy material.
Just like today, on my way home, there was this, obviously, loud lady seating beside me who by the looks of it was a middle-aged, high school teacher. She was shouting talking to three people seated across her, criticizing them for wasting money on fare. Apparently, these three people were a family: a father, mother, and their son who was enrolling for college at a certain school in the city. The high school teacher thought it was inappropriate for the parents to still accompany the child on his enrollment, to think about the cost on the wallet.
I remember a scene of my own, like this five years ago, when I was an incoming freshman in the state university. I was accompanied by Mother Goose and the grueling enrollment process felt a lot better because she was there. This is why I wanted to throw the loud lady out of the jeep, not only for being annoyingly loud, but also for being insensitive, or idiotic about how that son, or his parents for that matter, where feeling.
In my years, I would want to believe that I have grown into a capable, strong, and independent Musang, but as much as I can, really, when I am at home or when I need something done that can slide without having to do it personally or alone, I always ask that Don Domeng or Mother Goose be with me, or for them to help me with whatever task was it I had to deal with. Doing so not only makes it a lot easier for me, but it also helps me feel secure and in the usually grueling process of accomplishing tasks, I feel somewhat comfortable because they are there; more importanly, it is my way of telling them that I still need them even though I am capable on my own.
For example, lately I have been having a relapse of my iron-deficiency anemia symptoms, most probably I am anemic again. I am usually dizzy, out of breath, and easily fatigued. Each time I would look gaunt, Mother Goose would nag me about not taking care of myself, shame on me being a registered nurse and all. The point is, I do know what to do, but it is that feeling of being taken cared of and being looked after that I am after each time I would whine about being sick.
As Arn puts it, my friend, who is also a registered nurse, “when nurses get sick, the most annoying thing to here from their loved ones are the words ‘nurse ka pa naman, hindi mo alagaan ang sarili mo [you should be able to take care of yourself because you are a nurse after all].”
But as I have mentioned before, I am indeed very blessed when it came to family, our family being the envy of the town, modesty aside. The secret of our sane family life is simple: when we do things, we did them together.
You might be surprised that at this age, coming and going to PRC for my nursing license I would not budge if my family would not be coming with me. I revel in the presence of my parents, plus after finishing tiresome tasks there always is a good free meal with them around.
Another annoying thing I discovered today was that spammers love my site. Just today I got 25. Why do people spam anyway?