angry is better than tired, i guess?

too bad some days (actually, a lot of days) i’m just tired.

tired of the Metro Manila traffic (dubbed “longest commute/ worst traffic on Earth” in 2015, “among 10 worst in the world” in 2016, and considered both a health risk and a crisis that needs congressional resolution, to date). dilemma 1: lose sleep (ha! and maybe shorten your life) so you can go in way too early to be “on time,” or get enough sleep but get caught in the snarl. dilemma 2: whether to under-time and bring home work, or stay and come up short on the domestic front. maybe you have people to feed or drop off or fetch and carry for. maybe your domestic duties include an invalid or special kid or senior in need of care. whatever it is, traffic adds to the burden for all. lose something or lose something else. your job, maybe.

tired of house/work. seriously, that shit never ends, and thank God for help if you have it. some days, a clean house and a hot meal someone else prepared can make you goddamn cry (i haven’t yet, but only ‘coz i’m dehydrated. tee-hee). and no matter how much you love your work, admit it: it’s demanding AF. you may tell yourself you’re lucky, that the deluge means business is booming, that you find validation in your service, that your family is surviving on your paycheck contribution, and that the economy is benefiting from your labor. that doesn’t mean you’re not tired AF.

tired of the news. listening to the philippine president and his sycophantic choir just kills all my hope for this country. reading about the latest “isolated incident” and “joke” brings me closer to my epigenetic influences: hypertension/cardiovascular disease and cancer (traced all the way from jose rizal — just kidding, guize). i got dehydrated because i cried at the most recent rally i went to. it was the oddest thing. i was asking a taiwanese missionary what her sign meant, and at some point during the conversation, i cried. (i knew i shouldn’t have bought that bottled water. stay dehydrated, folks.)

i saw THE SIGN, yes. and it opened up my tear ducts.

tired of hearing about injustice. today, our twice-a-week helper (she who is responsible for the twice-a-week spotless house and ready supper) told us her grandson is incarcerated in juvie for stealing a snack from a grocery and being threatened with hardcore jail — he’s turning 18 in march — if his immediate family doesn’t pay P10,000, an exorbitant amount for a grocery snack he didn’t even eat (yes, we are appalled and incredulous and welcoming of any forthcoming help to nip this shit in the bud). he’s a juvenile jean valjean — will you join in our crusade? (Edit, Nov. 2017: the lad is still in juvie, and he’s living out his “sentence” until end-December. he’s fine, lonesome, but treated well. light sentence, considering. threat of being tried as an adult did not push through; public attorney won the argument that the offense was committed as a minor. the monetary payment didn’t push through.)

earlier this year, our mum’s caregiver’s son was taken into custody for not getting home before curfew, without the police notifying the family or the neighborhood watch that he’d be taken to the municipal versus barangay DSWD, forcing his concerned mum to search far and wide for him. (oh, and he met two kids who were supposedly framed for carrying contraband thrown at them by the folks who caught them, but that’s another story.) a lot of things could’ve happened if his mom weren’t the persevering, non-abrasive type. he’s now in the province with his dad. better there than here, yes?

what is happening? my reality may be pretty damn fine compared to others (marawi! texas! the caribbean islands! puerto rico! rakhine! las vegas! tragedy after tragedy keeps cropping up, yes?) but sheezus, why do i feel drained most days? where is that much-vaunted pinoy resiliency?

tired of my own personal demons. gosh, darn it, hell’s bells, you make me feel so small, demon. why do you insist on cutting me down to your damn size? staaaahppp pummellllling meeeee. someday, i’ll be big enough so you can’t hit me. and all you’re ever gonna be is mean. why you gotta be so mean? (sorry, country tay-tay is still alive in me.) some days, i want to be angry with someone other than myself.

they say anger gets shit done. does it, really?

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