-J. K. Samson-
It was a stormy Monday morning of July, and he went to school wearing a raincoat and carrying a long umbrella and a large sports bag that contained his clothes for today’s event. Usually, Mondays were busy for him-events, practices, meetings, and so on and so forth. Usually, Mondays meant doing a lot of things to start a really hectic week. Usually, Mondays for him started the week right with all those work given and due. But today was not a usual Monday.
Before he left home, he argued with his father that there was no class suspension for his school. For two reasons, he doesn’t really like class suspensions; he believed that college students should get use to storms, and that he despised being home doing nothing at all; he wanted to be at school since he felt more productive there. He hated being idle, or at least at home.
He sat to take a breath before dropping his bag on the office floor of the student council, and went assisting the production crew of the event for matters that concerned the venue which was assigned to him. He went here, there, and everywhere, until all was made sure that the production team has their needs satisfied. He sat again, trying to relax and, at the same time, accommodate the contestants of the pageant. He sat with his Neophyte, and with the first year representative who he asked to accommodate the contestants-and did.
He was excited to start the busy week with this, although he has a mischievous plot to leave the council for good and focus on the journal instead. Still, he was excited to report that he was the first officer to come, and that he was punctual and productive more than any officer ever was, save for the president who was already sick due to all the stress. He was sitting pretty, waiting, until a student yelled in a tone between dismay and sarcasm, or both.
Classes were suspended.
For a moment, he didn’t believe it. He didn’t believe any student of the lower batch, because he believed that all they always wanted was to be excused from anything that has something to do with school. Until a second one declared it calmly as he walked down from the stairs.
Classes were suspended.
He couldn’t believe it. He was even told by the officer of student affairs that there were classes and they would pursue with the event. Out of dismay, and anger, he went to the office of student affairs to check if it was true. Tagging his neophyte along, he walked upstairs as his black raincoat swayed with the wind as if he was hovering as he moved. Adding to his outfit was the umbrella which appeared as a rod of the elites which he would later throw on the ground out of disappointment.
He came to the hallway and met with the officer of student affairs before he even reached his office. He cried his name angrily over him, but kept his calm afterwards. All the officer did was defended himself and told them not to blame him. He was correct after all, for they saw in his eyes sincerity. They knew that if only his will be done, he would pursue with the show. Sadly though, a person of higher authority declared the suspension, without minding those who came already and those who were on their way. For a second, they thought that blaming the officer was not really a good idea. It wasn’t his fault. So instead, they did what last requests he had, left his bag in the office except his belt bag, and went to a fast food chain to rest.
He and his neophyte bumped with another contestant and tagged her along. They came to the fast food with a heavy sigh, cursing even the strongest of the curse, but not him. He tried to remain calm.
Once in, they chatted and exchanged stories about almost everything. They agreed to stay for two reasons; the weather was still bad to go home, and there was nothing really productive to do back home. So they just ate a post breakfast meal and continued their exchange of stories. They were waiting for another friend who came from Marikina. While waiting, he excused himself often with the two ladies to go to the next table where his batch mates gathered.
Finally, the girl from Marikina came. All of a sudden, his batch mates asked him to come to the band studio to practice a few rounds of songs. He hesitated at first, but agreed to come as long as the “kids” who he was with were allowed to come along. They agreed as long as they shared with the studio fee, and off they went.
In the studio, they played with no direction. It was not a professional practice, just a time killer. At least it was productive, although he knew he shouldn’t be singing due to his cough. But what the hell, he thought. He didn’t even appear sick. He seemed energetic. Singing made wonders to him. Perhaps he enjoyed it. He enjoyed the practice, and the kids seemed to enjoy seeing their “father” perform the way he performed, good or not.
After an hour of practice, they went to eat, although only the “elder ones” ate. He just took a few bites from their food. The kids only ate few. The eating would be followed by drinking, but he refused to come because of his cough. He knew that coming with them would tempt him, and he might not be able to go home in an orderly manner. He also thought about the “kids”, and decided that it was a better decision.
They parted ways, the “elders” and he with the “kids”. Two of his kids, the neophyte and the girl from Marikina, wanted to have ice cream. Though odd for him in such weather, he still came with them. The other one was contented chatting with him. They waited for the ice creams to finish before they decided to go home. Later in the jeepney, he would give them some instructions on what to do once they part ways.
Finally, he was alone and ventured home. He rode a bus, paid the fare, and sat looking outside the window while listening to his cellphone MP3, trying to brush of a disappointing day. When he reached home, he gave respect to his grandmother and went to his room where he removed his raincoat and dropped his bag. He thought of the tiring week before this which should’ve ended the moment he came this Monday morning, and the thought of extending another week for this made him cry out of frustration. He cried because he argued with his father, yelled at his professor, and pitied himself; all of these were for nothing. He was sick, but he doesn’t get to rest for he knew that if he does, no one would do the things he should do for no one else could, or would. All those calm moments, he was only storing anger and disappointments and frustrations. Perhaps one thing he liked about home was that it was where he can release all these, whether by rage or tears.
He wiped his tears, went to the dining table, ate, took his medicine, and returned to his room without talking to anyone at all. He lied on his bed and listened to his radio instead; trying to rest his eyes but not fall asleep.
Usually, he hated lying down and doing nothing on Mondays. But today was not a usual Monday.
-July 30, 2012-
Walang anuman, although hindi ko na maalala kung ano yun. ;D tagal ko na kasi ndi nag tumblr. Almost a year. More than a year. :D
Proposed 150-peso commemorative bill with Dr. Jose Rizal for his 150th anniversary.
Amaziiiing.
(via roxygen02)
