An old post from exactly a year ago, retrieved in retrospect of just how much one year can bring. When I look back at the events of this day, it actually seems like a different person standing in that humid summer rain of May 23, 2012.
I'm back in the Metro.
And I've decided to revive this blog, because I need something to keep me grounded. My friend Kubi pointed out that I should start writing for myself again, instead of just doing it for a living and, of course, I realized she's right (she says she's smart that way).
While I've had apprehensions about moving back to the "big, bad city" instead of staying in the city/town that I love, I've come to terms with life here. It may be the effect of having grown a bit older and wiser, but I'm not as threatened or intimidated as I used to be by the fast pace of life, the obnoxious attitude of cab drivers, the apathy of the crowd I join every day on the commute to and from work and the overall sense of self-importance the city has.
In fact, as I was standing under the dripping awning of the sidewalk along the Ortigas MRT Station-Robinson's Galleria route yesterday, I found myself appreciating Metro Manila, to my utmost surprise. It was pouring when I finally managed to extricate myself from the (usual) jam-packed train, I had no idea where my umbrella was and therefore had to rely on the minimal covering the sidewalk offered, and to my utmost chagrin, a speeding vehicle splashed the contents of a large puddle onto my jeans as I was avoiding the smaller puddles.
But as I stood there, along noisy EDSA on a rainy evening, beside a parked motorcycle (on the sidewalk, under the awning, inconveniencing all passers-by), I didn't feel annoyed or frustrated or ready to turn into The Hulk (I heart you, Mark Ruffalo). I watched all kinds of people wearing everything from barongs to short-skirted uniforms hurriedly splash their way to their destinations and thought, "It's really every man/woman for him/herself here." What I was feeling was something akin to resignation/acceptance and all I could think of was that there was a Dairy Queen at Robinson's Galleria. I took it to mean that indeed, I live here now.
As I was getting ready to dodge raindrops once more, a man asked me where Robinson's Galleria was - apparently, I now look enough like a taga-Maynila to give directions and the clincher was that I was able to point him in the right direction with no hesitation.
Speaking of Mark Ruffalo, how adorable is this:
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I'm back in the Metro.
And I've decided to revive this blog, because I need something to keep me grounded. My friend Kubi pointed out that I should start writing for myself again, instead of just doing it for a living and, of course, I realized she's right (she says she's smart that way).
While I've had apprehensions about moving back to the "big, bad city" instead of staying in the city/town that I love, I've come to terms with life here. It may be the effect of having grown a bit older and wiser, but I'm not as threatened or intimidated as I used to be by the fast pace of life, the obnoxious attitude of cab drivers, the apathy of the crowd I join every day on the commute to and from work and the overall sense of self-importance the city has.
In fact, as I was standing under the dripping awning of the sidewalk along the Ortigas MRT Station-Robinson's Galleria route yesterday, I found myself appreciating Metro Manila, to my utmost surprise. It was pouring when I finally managed to extricate myself from the (usual) jam-packed train, I had no idea where my umbrella was and therefore had to rely on the minimal covering the sidewalk offered, and to my utmost chagrin, a speeding vehicle splashed the contents of a large puddle onto my jeans as I was avoiding the smaller puddles.
But as I stood there, along noisy EDSA on a rainy evening, beside a parked motorcycle (on the sidewalk, under the awning, inconveniencing all passers-by), I didn't feel annoyed or frustrated or ready to turn into The Hulk (I heart you, Mark Ruffalo). I watched all kinds of people wearing everything from barongs to short-skirted uniforms hurriedly splash their way to their destinations and thought, "It's really every man/woman for him/herself here." What I was feeling was something akin to resignation/acceptance and all I could think of was that there was a Dairy Queen at Robinson's Galleria. I took it to mean that indeed, I live here now.
As I was getting ready to dodge raindrops once more, a man asked me where Robinson's Galleria was - apparently, I now look enough like a taga-Maynila to give directions and the clincher was that I was able to point him in the right direction with no hesitation.
Speaking of Mark Ruffalo, how adorable is this:
