1. COCKROACHES
Only once have I attempted to confront a cockroach in a face-off challenge. And never would I do it again.
It was in my freshmen dorm. I was all alone in the room, for dear old room-mate went home for the weekend. I was cramming for an exam scheduled on a Saturday. In other words, I did not have the time nor the strength to lose.
Or worst yet, engaged myself in a physical and mental challenge. However that night, I was bound to take part in a match of superiority, which began with a hair-raising prelude.The fates allowed this cockroach to come whizzing in….right smack into my hair!
Hoo-Rah!
Equipped with street dancing for P.E and fueled with adrenaline rush, I ignited a powerful booty shaking hip hop number.
After a dance move worthy of a variety show, I successfully managed to shake the cockroach off my hair.
And when I saw it dropped to the floor, I hurriedly stepped on it.
BUT, I did not hear the much-anticipated C R U N C H…Whaaaaaaat?MISSED!
I grabbed my roomies’ thick Math 17 book and slammed it on the pest intruder.W H A M! ( George Michael took the lead! )
Yet, I still did not get the cockroach.
Scoreboard: ” The battle of the species “, update.
COCKROACH: Two
ISKO : Zeeee woh
This particular cockroach I presumed, went to a science highschool and graduated top of its class.
And or maybe, aced the UPCAT, became an oblation scholar and most likely, a physics major.
Anywhere and anyhow I was set to destroy it, it just was able to elude my attacks.
In addition to that, it now emerged into one very powerful flying machine with death by recognition as its main agenda.
It certainly knew where I was.
A flying cockroach that TOTALLY follow you like a ” precision guided munition ” was indeed so tormenting.
I took the classic route. I grabbed a pair of slipper.
Wherever the cockroach landed, I would strike hard.
Again and again. HAH! Death by slipper.
But it seemed that the ” immortality ” rate of cockroaches corresponded highly with their ability to propagate.
It reminded me of the old movie, ” Fatal Attraction ” , when I thought Michael Douglas was able to drown the antagonist Glenn Close in the bath tub, she suddenly got up and came back alive just like that?
Well, ” my cockroach ” was not ready to cross over yet and it came back stronger and angrier.
It was now just the three of us : Me, my fear and my cockroach.
Fear was fast gaining ground and so did the cockroach.
It now decided to land on the room’s door knob. I was trapped in my tiny square-meter-room of a space. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.It was already 1:00 am.
I needed to memorize those sample exams!
Then I realized , the pesky bug was taking its sweet time, feeding on my fear and flying from one point to another.
So I decided to change my strategy.
I waited for the exact moment.
I waited and waited.
TILL a window of opportunity revealed itself.
The cockroach changed location, it flew and landed on the study lamp.Slowly, I reached for my highlighters. ( an extremely colorful death. )
Next, I got my pen. ( the pen is mightier than the sword. )
Last, I picked up all my Nat. Sci. readings and sample exams. ( plate tectonics, you rock. )
And when I knew that I then had the upper hand. ( er, all hands full , that is..)
I dashed towards the door and run like hell to the study hall, without looking back!
F – R – E- E- D – O- M…
Or as my freshman dorm was incidentally named:
K
A
L
A
Y
A
A
N!
2. A GRADE SCHOOL KID’S BACK PACK
If we have, what we call archeologist, anthropologist and paleontologist, what do you call a person who dauntlessly digs into the after-school-contents of children’s knap sacks? A MOM.
In our house years ago, when there was still a number of grade school kids, there was never a chance that our place run out of kids’ back packs.
On top of the table.
On top of chairs. On the floor.
They were just so all over and everywhere; a constant fixture, a major appliance.
But the older children like myself, never dared to touch them or worst yet, rummaged through them. When we saw one, we most likely run away from it.
My mom, being the bravest is the one licensed to examine the bags.This was out of concernment of course, that left over food might get spoiled and rotten, should she not.
Her amazing finds?
PEBBLES
ROCKS
SANDS
CLAY
LEAVES
PLASTIC BAGS
TEX
PAPER MONEY
TANZANS ( pepsi or coca cola crowns)
And not to mention those small match boxes with cotton balls.
( ” Hay una araña.. “)
SPIDERS!
( ” Mi casa, su casa.” )
I remembered that mom used to examine the bags by sticking her hand inside, like one would do with a raffle drum.
But once, when out of my little sister’s bag, my mom pulled out something that made a sound and said, ” MEOW..”,
( aguy Ginoo ko!) ( why, hello there Garfield!)
… she would not anymore valiantly stick her hand into those bags. Instead, she would directly empty the back packs by pouring all their contents on the table.
Checking a grade schooler’s back pack would be likened to those heart stopping few seconds, when you slip a hand in your bag, reach inside and realize that your fingers just could not come in contact, with your brand new phone!
( till you of course , in the middle of anywhere, pour out all your bag’s content —- capillaries, arteries, rupture included!)
Presently, it is my turn to do the whole scavenger hunt routine by digging in my pre schoolers bag.
I do not consider the act as something to fear …YET.
But since, well, he still is a preschooler, a novice, if I may call him, my experiences with the ” after-school-contents ” of his bag are just limited to mild surprises; like toy cars that do not belong to him, face towels bearing another child’s name ANDleft over cookies and a piece of grape that neither of which, were what I packed for him that morning.
( And may it stay this way, till then of course, a stray kitten should come his way.)
3. COLLEGE ( TERROR ) PROFESSORS
The ones I had, still, after twenty years , give me nightmares in vibrant and vivid colors.
They most definitely are the ” MAXIMUM ..” tolerating pain at its maximum .”
They are the ones, who after a thousand years, I would still recognize even in their fossilized form. I will never ever be friends with any one who look an awful lot like them.
My prejudice on their look alike is overwhelming.
These are the Professors who asked me questions from pages I have not read…questions from a parallel universe…questions like that of Schrödinger’s cat.
(Imagine being there but not there or of simultaneously being dead yet alive.)
( hey Schrödinger, how about the kitten my mom pulled out of a sibling’s backpack? It deserved recognition too, you know.)…or the meaning of happiness.
During recitations in their classes, many times had I CONTEMPLATED in doing the following:
a. fall down unconscious
b. fake a convulsion, as in spirit possession and
c. pretend to see an apparition behind the teacher’s back and cry hysterically and run to the hallway.
Twenty years later, I get to see one of them, I still get goose bumps.
I once came across a college professor who happened to be in the neighborhood.
And out of an annoying habit, I found myself turning away, scampering to another direction like a frightened doe.
BOO!
Yet believe it or not, they are the ones who helped me become what I am today.
Yes, I still have not gotten over any of them.(Totally nursing a broken heart.)
4. STUCK IN TRAFFIC ( with an overwhelming need to pee.)
An exploding bladder, while being stuck in traffic , equates to an orchestra of movements I go through, which I may call as something quite ” fluid “.
I bite my lips, I grit my teeth,
I roll my eyes, I fold my tongue,
I squeeze my cheeks, I pinch my self,
I suck air,
I count sheep, ( and cats… and dogs..)
I whistle,
I hum,
I drum my fingers,
I tap my shoe,
I inhale and exhale,
I curl my toes,
I crack my knuckles,
I clench and unclench my hand,
I cross and uncrossed my arms,
I stretch and unstretched my legs,
I pull some of my hair strands,
I turn red in frustration,
I meditate,
I cover my face,
I say a persistent prayer of plea to HIM, ( ” minimal occurrence of speed humps along the road, please Lord “.
And for an encore, I exchange impossible words with my husband:
( who during those moments I may have readily swap for Vin Diesel in a ” The Fast and The Furious ” line of thought. )
Me: ” Wala na bang ibibilis to? ”
( ” Can’t this go any faster ? ” )
Him : ” Bakit kc hindi ka nag weewee bago umalis? ”
( ” Just why did you not pee before we left? ” )
Me: ” Eh sa hindi nga ako na wee wee bago umalis! ”
( ” I did not feel the need to pee when we left! “)
” NGAYON LANG, kung kailan nasa gitna tayo ng EDSA. ”
( ” ONLY NOW, just when we are in the middle of EDSA.”)
This is that one rare instance of ” must piss ” and ” pissed off ” sharing a root word; while the mental and physiological processes during these trying times truly included: DEMENTIA and PRE MATURE AGEING!
Seriously?
This is one ordeal you would not wish on others , even those you call enemies.
5. DIRECTIONS
I get lost in a parking area.
I get lost even with GPS or a map at hand.
I get lost even with a compass.
To snag a role in ” LOST “, ask me for directions and words related to it .
a. Entrance and Exit
Had I been a stage performer, I most likely would ruin a scene just by not knowing where I came in and where I should leave.
Unless, entrance and exit were boldly written on the passage way, only then would I abide.
Although most of the times, I interchange the two and like those regular pickpockets, I too, get the attention of guards at the mall.
” Ma’am dito po entrance natin, exit po yan. ”
” Ay oo nga pala, exit.”
And I would correct my mistake, by actually going out from where I entered, go to the entranceway and enter again.
Therefore, just upon arrival, I have gone inside the mall about twice already!
All these redundancy committed because I did not know my entrance and exit.
b. Left and Right:
Perhaps my being a south pawed has provided added confusion, on my left and right especially when majority of the things around, prove favorable to right-handed people.
So I do not pursue conversations that would include:
” My right or your right ? ”
” My left or your left? ”
” Tignan mo yung babae sa kanan. ” ( ” Look at the girl on your right.”)
” Saan? Kanan ko ? Kanan mo?.” ( ” Where? My right? Your right? “)
They stress my mind out for I go through mental calculations analogous to tangent, co tangent, sine and cosine.
However of course, I do thank God that as oppose to left and right, I respond conformably to wrong and right.
Also, I am relieved to have found out that my ability in taking instructions did not follow suit.
But sometimes, I still wouldn’t know the exact place or location even when I am staring at it or it is already staring at my face.
I am guilty as being one of those passengers that jeepney drivers dread.
Inside the jeepney, after realizing that I went pass my drop off point, I would suddenly yell, ” PA R A A AAAAA HH !!!!!!!!! “, like my life depended on it!
And having thought of hearing a cry for help, the disoriented driver would abruptly pull to a stop, at a spot where a sign that said ” bawal sumakay at bumaba dito ” was placed.
( or maybe an invisible sign that may say , ” Bawal makinig sa mga pasaherong makulit. ” )
Dear old driver would just have to scratch his head while an eager traffic enforcer would most likely ask him to pay traffic fine, among other things ; Not to mention of course having to kill the passenger (me) in his mind.
Well, as they say , ” What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. “(.. but may drive you nuts. )
