Four syllables

I woke up thirty minutes after the alarm sounded. Staggered out of bed, and nothing interesting for breakfast; I'm still craving for French toast. I settled for garlic margarine on loaf bread, since that's better than the garlic bread my mother brought home yesterday - it merely smells like it.

"Hey, tambalan na!"

Out with the badminton equipment and the gate to the garage, as the radio starts sending out requests for another discussion on why being in a relationship is so fulfilling. Last sound effect waves out, and the radio is switched off, to be substituted for three hours of news programs. New things learned today - a nuclear reactor, a hoaxed phone call, a Hollywood actor in jail, a penguin in a wetsuit.

There wasn't really any need to cook rice - we had leftovers from last night. Only a reheat of lunch, while the telly praises modern food technology. "It stretches the food fibers!" Apparently we had mushrooms for extenders, and lunch was finished in ten minutes. Back to the television, and two hours of what we call mindless entertainment. I find it witty, still.

Headphones plugged, and back to the computer. Apparently there are openings for MTV, and for some reason I took on the chance, even if it's a freelance thing. I send my resume and Miss Tupas asks me about graduation. I remember that the Vertical Horizon concert was on that channel over lunch, but I preferred Eat! Bulaga for obvious reasons. Checking the usual stuff, and already I'm resorting to bloghopping.

"So hennachoko means...?"

"It means wimp," Icka answered with her tongue out.

The heat is getting to me. The ceiling fan may be directly above me, but I still feel sticky. I feel stickier reminiscing about our freshman years - "...feeling somewhat depressed because of us. It makes me feel kinda guilty because I am part of this block. And what's worse is this individual is super nice, smart, and..." - and I get a phone call. I have to cook rice for dinner. It's still waiting in the rice cooker.

After dinner, perhaps, I'll brush my teeth again, perhaps finish that SpongeBob SquarePants new episode marathon, and resort to the radio for last-minute nourishment before I retire. None of the usual conversations, none of the usual rambles, and none of the usual initiative. And they say we're supposed to make the most of our summers - by paying them to do stuff to us?

And your responses...

Post a Comment