I dread the thought of being mercilessly hurled back to the daily grind, of being pathetically celebratory at every precious moment I am able to save for rest and for those short but sweet moments I spend with babe. But while I still have remaining time, a minutiae, to be happy about being a free man, I decided to might as well live the remaining time as if the next minute were to be the end of the world.
Though, I admit I miss running toward train doors about to close in on me, cursing inconsiderate people who simply stand and hum a tune at the right side of the escalator on a rush hour, rehearsing in my mind the lines I will deliver in front of my class, looking sweaty and disheveled at 7:30 am, and using a bunch of photocopies to wipe the perspiration on my forehead. There’s something about the morning rush that heightens all my sensory perceptions, except two. All these running and chasing after the wind imbue in me bionic eyes, ears, nose, while they blunt my taste buds and sense of touch. I am good at dodging people walking and running against my direction, I can hear hushed conversations full of intrigues between strangers, or smell the stink of fellow commuters, but my taste buds do not discriminate between bland and tasty and having been exposed to the very tight proximity of other people who are as rough and acrimonious as I, feeling the pain or discomfort, physical or otherwise, has been completely shut off from my system.
This afternoon, on my way to Katipunan, that comfortable train ride reminded me of the more exciting ones I’ve had and piqued my desires for more. I am looking forward to new experiences.
I am excited. Always.
I hope to employ irony, impeccably, in my blogging soon.