Traveling at the Speed of Light
Book in Hand: Living Out Loud by Anna Quindlen
Song in Mind: Crazy for You as sung by our Tone-Deaf neighbor (hey' i'm just dying here)
Speed Traveling
There is such a thing. It can be accomplished by people who absolutely does not have a life except the one where they are stuck speed-traveling. Case in point, me.
Bicol and back in just 46 hours. I had to dig in my heels to at least see something more than just blurred houses and fuzzy people. Last Thursday, I took the bus to Naga City at 8:30 p.m. and made it there by 5:00 the next morning. Summoning all my superpowers, I tried to be cheery, nice and interested in the work I was supposed to do. After shaking the hands of so many people, talking my butt off about education projects and funding sources, I made it to the very same bus station by 7 p.m. I took a bus going back to Manila and made it by 4:30 in the morning where I pumped whatever source of depleted energey reserves I have to teach two classes, workshops and all up to 4 in the afternoon.
Speed Traveling. The life I live.
The Middle of the Sea
There is one absolutely wonderful thing that has happened to me during the trip. I was able to ride a banca for the first time. We went out to sea because the community I needed to visit was a coastal one. Jeepneys only pass through the area only once a day.
I had the best boat ride of my life. It being my first and all, of course. The sea was a bit placid when we set out for the barangay. But on the way back, the tides rose and the waves rose along with it. Sea water kept splashing up the boat and spraying unto us. The fishermen gave me a water proof blanket to cover myself up with, and I put it on at first, just so they wouldn't think I'm crazy. But at the height of the ride, when we were losing power from the motor and the boat felt like it will tip over starboard (hehe), i relinquished my desire to look "normal" and pulled it off. Hey, I might as well get wet. I'm not about to be a sissy boat-rider-person even if I cannot swim to save my life.
After we were sure we wouldn't be tipping over (and thus I get to see another day), I found thinking that whatever it is that made me deserve the life I have, God, Thank You!
Bus Movies
I have no idea how the bus line got their hands on those movie copies they showed on board, but hey, I'm deep-shoot grateful for it. I was able to watch The Crow: Wicked Prayer on the way to Naga (sucked, fell asleep halfway through) and The Butterfly Effect (now, this one was wicked! Kept me up til late in the night).
Well worth the king's ransom I paid to ride there.
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
Diane lent me her copy of the aforementioned movie, and I just finished watching it today. Oh dear bugger, it's one heck of a head trip. Johnny Depp can play anything, yes, but man, was that movie weird!
Not that I didn't like it. But those OOmpa-Loompas were so out there. They were scary.
On Flirting
Gads, I don't know why I'm admitting this. I hate to be labeled girly-girly, albeit I am a girl. But I do use the power of flirting once in a while. And I supposed one doesn't have to be pretty or model-thin to get away with it because sometimes-- just sometimes -- it works for me too. I think maybe, you just have to be a woman -- who smiles a lot.
Like getting good seats in a restaurant because you flashed a sweetheart smile at the head waiter. Sales men assisting you when you need to distinguish the difference between a knife and a hacksaw because you used your soft and lilting voice coupled with mentioning the name on their tags ever so often. Or sometimes, you use that got-it-all-together voice which is strong and sure but nice.
But when I'm in front of a lot of people, the flirting stops and it transforms to a genial, girl-next-door type aura. When I'm in front of the class, I use this to help me get my students to listen. But do I do it too much?
Now, I only mention this because I had an encounter of the weird kind yesterday. After class ( a totally "bangag" day due to lack of proper sleep), a male student walked up to me while I was about to leave school and asked me where I live. I told him where and he said that it wasn't far and would I let him bring me home. Now, first of all, I live in North Caloocan. Just a couple of yards away from San Jose Del Monte, Bulacan. FARview side. He is sooo lying when he said it wasn't far. So anyway, I told him that my Dad was going to pick me up and that I was meeting him in the nearby McDonald's. He offered to walk me there. I had to bite my lip to refrain from saying, hey, I learned how to walk when I was two and I can very well manage the fifteen steps to get me there. But since I was walking and he was walking, I let him. He offered to take my overnight bag because he said it looked so heavy. "Well, dearie," I almost said, "I have carried this bag since Thursday, in a sum total of 845 kilometers, and I can manage to carry it the next 20 yards." But since his hands were already on the strap and he was gently tugging already, I let the bag fall and I was only slightly amused when he grunted to lift it. Then as we resumed walking, he started saying stuff about me being "different" from the other teachers, and that he can see I'm still young, and I was ever so funny in class. It was flattering enough to alarm me. Is this nincompoop trying to flirt with me? This isn't good.
I try to be the nice, approachable teacher in class. But I'm not about to be the type who flirts with the students. No matter how cute they actually are. Goodness, this guy right here, was seventeen, young enough to land me in jail. And probably, just thinking about making nice with the teacher so he can get good grades but doing it the totally fucked-up way.
Fortunately, my Dad was already in McDo and I was saved from further conversation with him. I did not regret the distant tone my voice took when I said I will see him in our next class, and in an even stricter voice, reminded him to submit his homework on time.
The guy could just be trying to be nice. But I don't need to know if he's nice. I need to make sure he's competent enough to pass my class. That's what he's supposed to prove to me.
Gads, I need a new and improved teaching style. Something short of becoming Miss Tapia. But how do I manage that? I don't want to spend my life doing calisthenics inside a jail room. Bejeez.
Song in Mind: Crazy for You as sung by our Tone-Deaf neighbor (hey' i'm just dying here)
Speed Traveling
There is such a thing. It can be accomplished by people who absolutely does not have a life except the one where they are stuck speed-traveling. Case in point, me.
Bicol and back in just 46 hours. I had to dig in my heels to at least see something more than just blurred houses and fuzzy people. Last Thursday, I took the bus to Naga City at 8:30 p.m. and made it there by 5:00 the next morning. Summoning all my superpowers, I tried to be cheery, nice and interested in the work I was supposed to do. After shaking the hands of so many people, talking my butt off about education projects and funding sources, I made it to the very same bus station by 7 p.m. I took a bus going back to Manila and made it by 4:30 in the morning where I pumped whatever source of depleted energey reserves I have to teach two classes, workshops and all up to 4 in the afternoon.
Speed Traveling. The life I live.
The Middle of the Sea
There is one absolutely wonderful thing that has happened to me during the trip. I was able to ride a banca for the first time. We went out to sea because the community I needed to visit was a coastal one. Jeepneys only pass through the area only once a day.
I had the best boat ride of my life. It being my first and all, of course. The sea was a bit placid when we set out for the barangay. But on the way back, the tides rose and the waves rose along with it. Sea water kept splashing up the boat and spraying unto us. The fishermen gave me a water proof blanket to cover myself up with, and I put it on at first, just so they wouldn't think I'm crazy. But at the height of the ride, when we were losing power from the motor and the boat felt like it will tip over starboard (hehe), i relinquished my desire to look "normal" and pulled it off. Hey, I might as well get wet. I'm not about to be a sissy boat-rider-person even if I cannot swim to save my life.
After we were sure we wouldn't be tipping over (and thus I get to see another day), I found thinking that whatever it is that made me deserve the life I have, God, Thank You!
Bus Movies
I have no idea how the bus line got their hands on those movie copies they showed on board, but hey, I'm deep-shoot grateful for it. I was able to watch The Crow: Wicked Prayer on the way to Naga (sucked, fell asleep halfway through) and The Butterfly Effect (now, this one was wicked! Kept me up til late in the night).
Well worth the king's ransom I paid to ride there.
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
Diane lent me her copy of the aforementioned movie, and I just finished watching it today. Oh dear bugger, it's one heck of a head trip. Johnny Depp can play anything, yes, but man, was that movie weird!
Not that I didn't like it. But those OOmpa-Loompas were so out there. They were scary.
On Flirting
Gads, I don't know why I'm admitting this. I hate to be labeled girly-girly, albeit I am a girl. But I do use the power of flirting once in a while. And I supposed one doesn't have to be pretty or model-thin to get away with it because sometimes-- just sometimes -- it works for me too. I think maybe, you just have to be a woman -- who smiles a lot.
Like getting good seats in a restaurant because you flashed a sweetheart smile at the head waiter. Sales men assisting you when you need to distinguish the difference between a knife and a hacksaw because you used your soft and lilting voice coupled with mentioning the name on their tags ever so often. Or sometimes, you use that got-it-all-together voice which is strong and sure but nice.
But when I'm in front of a lot of people, the flirting stops and it transforms to a genial, girl-next-door type aura. When I'm in front of the class, I use this to help me get my students to listen. But do I do it too much?
Now, I only mention this because I had an encounter of the weird kind yesterday. After class ( a totally "bangag" day due to lack of proper sleep), a male student walked up to me while I was about to leave school and asked me where I live. I told him where and he said that it wasn't far and would I let him bring me home. Now, first of all, I live in North Caloocan. Just a couple of yards away from San Jose Del Monte, Bulacan. FARview side. He is sooo lying when he said it wasn't far. So anyway, I told him that my Dad was going to pick me up and that I was meeting him in the nearby McDonald's. He offered to walk me there. I had to bite my lip to refrain from saying, hey, I learned how to walk when I was two and I can very well manage the fifteen steps to get me there. But since I was walking and he was walking, I let him. He offered to take my overnight bag because he said it looked so heavy. "Well, dearie," I almost said, "I have carried this bag since Thursday, in a sum total of 845 kilometers, and I can manage to carry it the next 20 yards." But since his hands were already on the strap and he was gently tugging already, I let the bag fall and I was only slightly amused when he grunted to lift it. Then as we resumed walking, he started saying stuff about me being "different" from the other teachers, and that he can see I'm still young, and I was ever so funny in class. It was flattering enough to alarm me. Is this nincompoop trying to flirt with me? This isn't good.
I try to be the nice, approachable teacher in class. But I'm not about to be the type who flirts with the students. No matter how cute they actually are. Goodness, this guy right here, was seventeen, young enough to land me in jail. And probably, just thinking about making nice with the teacher so he can get good grades but doing it the totally fucked-up way.
Fortunately, my Dad was already in McDo and I was saved from further conversation with him. I did not regret the distant tone my voice took when I said I will see him in our next class, and in an even stricter voice, reminded him to submit his homework on time.
The guy could just be trying to be nice. But I don't need to know if he's nice. I need to make sure he's competent enough to pass my class. That's what he's supposed to prove to me.
Gads, I need a new and improved teaching style. Something short of becoming Miss Tapia. But how do I manage that? I don't want to spend my life doing calisthenics inside a jail room. Bejeez.
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