How It's done

29 August 2009

I wake up.

I turn in bed, trying not to crush the cigarettes I always leave under my pillow, I check the time from my phone, I grab my wallet from inside my pillow. My towel, my dipper with all my toiletries, my blue slippers, all in that order, I go to the bathroom and bathe.

I am dressed.

I walk out to buy the usual, spanish bread, RC cola, smoke some left over cigarettes from yesterday, time to go.

I wait.

I wait until it is two hours before work before going to work, I wait and smoke and internet and walk around Quezon city. Quezon city is not flinching, Quezon city is fighting my mood with its life, its mechanical life, Quezon city cannot win with its MRTs and Buses and Jeeps and Malls and Buildings and Life.

I go to work,

All drained, all tired, all set up for a miserable day, expecting misery and stress and annoyance, I love hating this job, it drains me but reminds me of life, of my life, of a life for me.

I sleep,

I dream of how much I hate routine. And what a beautiful dream it is.