My computer says it's 7:41 PM. And I know that 7:41PM today is 5 hours ago. I still haven’t adjusted my computer time!
In the taxi on the road, I was staring at Smallville, requiring from it some sort of reaction because for the first time in a long time, I didn't go home late. My legs hurts from sitting, and assuming different positions on my chair at work. I tell you, I have the most uncomfortable chair in the world. and if it wasn’t a sin to steal my father's chair, I would've brought it to work a long time ago.
But enough of that, this blog isn't about work nor my current discomfort. Actually, I don’t know what this is about. Perhaps, another one of those random blogs that I make. This is not going be one of those intricate venting sessions. Albeit, it can end in that. =P.
I do like writing. However, since life has set in I have neglected to fulfill this desire. I guess I have lost my touch. I bought a palmtop so I can write anytime I want, anywhere I want it. And like a diary, I religiously input a blog or two everyday as much as I can.
It's ludicrous though, that it's been an effort not to write about love and my current emotional state – in limbo. But I'll be succinctly strict about it – no articles about impertinent topics such as love. Nor would i want to engender again the existence of which, or the lack thereof.
I went home tonight to find my Mama and Papa watching an old Chicago Bulls game. They were big fans of Chicago Bulls, especially my Mom. I could clearly remember how she would drop all the day's work just to watch her "idol" --- Michael Jordan. She even learned about the rudiments of the game and gave me nocturnal lectures on the definition of alley hoops, fade aways, layout and whatnots.
Nobody really noticed that my clothes were wet , except my father, who chided me with his all too familiar lectures on health and hospital expenses. It rained cats and dogs a few seconds after we left our building. I was even tempted to grab my manager's umbrella and run as fast as I can. But better judgment told me otherwise.
He handed me my orange towel and succinctly instructed me to take a shower. At 27, I am smart enough to know that imploring against his will would cause me a few more hours of lectures. This isn't really a serendipitous idea is it? Oh Dear, where would I be without my father?
I joined him in front of the tube and I realized he was watching the Conspiracy test on a supposed alien abduction in Discovery channel. Half of the time that my eyes were glued on the tube, I was thinking about the glorious feeling of food in my mouth. But since Boracay is a month away, I had to shake it off my consciousness.
Papa switched the channel back to the Chicago Bulls' game... there it is, Pippen dribbles and shoots and scores!!! I know my father said something about that shot but my thoughts were somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. If my memory serves me right, he must've said something about how Scottie unconsciously scores his proverbial Threes. By this time, Jordan has already made a graceful fadeaway and Mama is in deep slumber. As I was about to pass out my father did it again – he farted.... grrrr!!!! What a terrible thing to do beside a semi-conscious person. *madface* . I jumped out of the seat and gave a bleating cry interlarded with objections and rants with the sole purpose of drilling it into his consciousness and make him feel bad, unlucky for me it didnt work. He has probably grown accustomed to this routine---he farts i get mad. It's a vicious cycle I tell you. As far as he is concerned, the only thing that matters are the TV and him. And everything that stands in between are banished and treated with cold shoulders. Charming innit?!I rolled my eyes and pretended i didn’t see his self-satisfied smirk .He knows I hate it when he does that. If my brother was home, he would've laughed at my helplessness, like he always does.
