I’m still awake. I’m still procrastinating. On the south side of my bed my suitcase is wide open waiting to eat my clothes and shoes but I can’t convince myself to pack yet for my trip to Manila at 4AM today. I’ll get to it. I’ll pack once I can figure out the right formula to create in this Excel file I am making. I can’t figure the best logical approach to make the right calculation. Tch!

I should pack. I have to go to Manila for 3 days to get my medical referral from the Canadian embassy. I’m getting closer to leaving. Wow... But first I should pack. Before I do that let me check my mail. I have a message from Tanduay Girl on my Facebook account. It’s some YouTube video by Super Mario Brothers. Let's see...

Oh this is the probably the funniest moment of this day...

Earlier, I was waiting in line at Window 30 of the Cebu City Postal Office to get a post-birthday present. It was my first time there. So far, this is the only government office I’ve been to where there is no computer at sight. Interesting. Do they find computers an abomination which is why they track letters and parcels? Can’t blame them... if it were not for computers, internet, e-mails, e-cards, e-gifts, e-commerce they would probably be generating more income. Then there’s more competition with cellphones, text messaging, fax machines, telephones, and other courier providers. Come to think of it, with all the competition out there the Phil Post would have meager resources to make them technologically competitive also. Then again there’s this line by Phil Ochs - Where there’s a will, there’s a way. 

Window 30 is where you claim parcels from abroad. There were four other people ahead and my eye zoomed into a good looking Iranian. Mmmmm, I don’t mind waiting now. I waited and watched the chubby post woman at the counter as she dispensed parcels. The girl ahead of me gave the post woman a 3” x 5” card with her name and address (which made me realize that was what I would have to do the same thing when it was my turn, hihihi!). The post woman started rummaging around some 8 fat ledgers beside her and until she found the right one. She leafed through pages until she found the claimant’s name and had the claimant sign the ledger. Then they charge her Php 35.00 for Customs Tax. Some other guy brought her package and opened it to inspect it. Mmmmm... nice demo, I didn’t look like some greenhorn when I claimed my own package.

When it was Mr. Iranian’s turn it he said he lost his 3” x 5”. Interesting. I watched as they ignored him to move on to the next claimant and while processing this the post woman asked if he knows his claim card number so they can look for it in the ledger. Right. Like anyone would take time to jot it down. Of course he didn’t. The verdict was the post woman will just text him after she finds his name in any of his eight fat ledgers. Good grief. 

The poor guy was still standing there (prolly hoping for a miracle) when they brought me my box and opened it with this scary looking knife. Gah!!! Don’t open it! Damn customs! I was relieved to see there was a smaller box inside. I wish the man would drop the knife because if he opened it and some kinky stuff is inside I wish the earth will just swallow me then and there. Excuse me Mr. Good Looking Iranian, could you please cover your ears? I asked the old man and the post woman if they could just read the Customs Declaration Note regarding the contents. Which they did ergo the box was left unopened. Except that fat post woman said aloud the contents of my package which made me blush. I can feel Mr. Iranian’s curious eyes on me.

If they just computerized what goes in and goes out especially for packages then I would’ve saved myself from the embarrassment because Mr. Iranian would be off somewhere happy with his package. Tch!

If someone were to ask me why I live where I live for so long (4 years now) it would be because it's in the middle of everywhere. Right here, I am five minutes away from bars, schools, malls, schools, hotels, government offices, and even the red light district.

Five days a week I walk from Ayala Center to my place. I've gotten a habit since working at Bamm-Bamm to drop by Ayala and window shop just to take my mind off work and, often, just escape the heat of the 3 o'clock sun.

These past few weeks though, I can't help but grin whenever I step out of the mall. It's silly really. Kinda embarrassing to admit also. Like hellooooooo!!! Thinking about it gives me the willies but I can't help myself but grin everytime I step out the Metro Ayala side of the mall.

Three weeks ago I was doing my usual exit when one of their security guards bowed at me and said, "Thank you for shopping at Ayala Center ma'am." I did my usual curt nod while looking straight ahead (I'm too much of a bitch to smile, so sue me). But as I was halfway out he added, "Ingat po kayo! Ingat!"

It doesn't even look funny when I type it. But this guard said it ala John Lloyd Cruz in his Biogesic Commercial. Seriously, he is the only guard I know who ever said "Ingat po kayo! Ingat!"

I figured this guy had a promotion or a raise or it was his birthday or his boss asked him to do that. The following day as I walked out of Metro Ayala and head home that same guard said the same things, "Thank you for shopping at Ayala Center ma'am. Ingat po kayo! Ingat!" And he said the same thing the next day and the next and the next up to today as I strolled out.

Me and my big ego initially thought that this blue boy has the hots for me, erhmmm... but of course I was wrong. Mamang Security Guard said the same things with the same enthusiasm to other shoppers walking out the mall. I kinda felt relieved. In the midst of a fuel crisis and tough challenges we Filipinos are facing lately, his enthusiasm is comforting and encouraging.

Now I wanna write to Wish Ko Lang and ask them to grant his wish. Para s'ya naman ang mag-ingat.

Since Christmas they have lived with us,
Guileless and clear,
Oval soul-animals,
Taking up half the space,
Moving and rubbing on the silk

Invisible air drifts,
Giving a shriek and pop
When attacked, then scooting to rest, barely trembling.
Yellow cathead, blue fish---
Such queer moons we live with

Instead of dead furniture!
Straw mats, white walls
And these traveling
Globes of thin air, red, green,
Delighting

The heart like wishes or free
Peacocks blessing
Old ground with a feather
Beaten in starry metals.
Your small

Brother is making
His balloon squeak like a cat.
Seeming to see
A funny pink world he might eat on the other side of it,
He bites,

Then sits
Back, fat jug
Contemplating a world clear as water.
A red
Shred in his little fist.