Sunday, October 26


Was what I was last Wednesday. As in the previous posts, I was geared with the thought that I had a full day: Exam, interview, dinner with friends I haven't seen in quite a while. I was pretty sure of my schedule this time because I had taken to writing them down and putting them on post its on my desk.

I realized I really wasn't a morning person anymore. It took me three attempts to read and actually understand this short story we were handed out for us to analyze. At nine in the morning. All the time I was thinking: [1] It's so damn cold and didn't bring my hoodie in exchange for this blasted cardigan, [2] Shyet, I should have reread that "Spunky French Guys you can name drop as you wing your way through sounding intellectual and pretentious" article, but I didn't, so feh.

I had lunch with my friend A+ half a galaxy away from the FC. When it was time to go back, I boarded a jeep and only then did I realize I left my hairbrush on my desk. I was supposed to have an interview and I was having a bad hair day. Feh.

It turns out I need not worry. I walked in, at the appointed hour, and this girl tells me it's going to be held tomorrow, Thursday.

"But somebody called me at home and told me it's on Wednesday."

"No, it's going to be October 23."

I wanted to shake her silly because I noted it down on my notepad. But I left the big note pad at home and I didn't have proof right there so I walked out of the office and sat on the concrete bench in the waiting shed, still feeling like I was in some time space warp. When I got home, the first thing I checked was my notepad. True enough it said: "Wednesday, interview. 1pm, Room 1017." There was no date, although she must have said October 23. But I couldn't really be sure.

Postcript to this: It went well. I sort of knew what they were going to ask me: Why I want to do this thing when I could be visibly disenfranchised economically. I wanted to go all Dustin Hoffman-ish and Winona Ryder-esque on them and say "Beats me," but I don't think they'd appreciate it. Now I will really might try to look up that French dudes article. Before I went into the holding room, there were two girls trying to put on make up and Girl in Blue asked: "Did you read up on Structuralism?" I was screaming in my head: Wtf? All I was worrying about was whether I should put on another coat of lip balm because it was cold. Durr.

Post postcript: There must have really been a rip in the time space warp last Wednesday. When I finally had my senses back, I hiked over to the MRT station in Q Ave so I could hang out in the mall a bit. Four trains came and went on the Northbound side of the tracks and no trains going South. Wtf? The tide of people waiting for their ride grew five deep. And they made no special announcements as to why it was taking them too long.


*Is how my friend W usually says it. Not "disoriented," like we'd usually say in our Sesame Street learned English. His is the remnant of days when we were forced to drop our Rs and not roll them.

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