I haven't writing much about what's happening in my life right now, but that doesn't mean that it has grounded to a halt. It's just that for me, living and relishing my days is more important than writing about it.

Yum.

I am still reeling from the recent turn of events. Unfortunately, most of them are unbloggable. My confidantes seem to have either disappeared or located themselves in some place unreachable.

The worst thing about liking anyone is the longing whenever she's out of sight. It's a lot like a toothache: the pain may be nearly imperceptible but the constant throbbing is totally draining. Efforts to ignore it succeed only for a time, then, when you let your guard down, it reminds you of its presence, imperiously demanding immediate relief and attention.

I deal with it the same way I deal with any illness, pray that the Lord would heal me as soon as possible. Although in this case, waking me up is probably more appropriate.

I thought I had all the time in the world. Then my boss informed me that I'm to be exiled once more to the land of the rising sun. This time it could last anywhere from 6 weeks to a couple of months.

I was intially excited. It's been a year since I've been to Japan and I have missed the place. I missed the solitude and the, well, predictability of life there. Plus it's a chance for me to make some extra money and buy some new toys I can't get here (I plan on getting a small doumbek). Then it hit me: I'm in the middle of something important here!

Oh I don't want to leave! Not yet anyway!

Ah whatever.

I am resigned to it. May the Lord do as He wishes. How I'm going to go through 6 weeks of separation and isolation, I have no idea. Let's not mention the fears and insecurities that will surely plague me, with my mind's eye seeing a host of imagined worst-case scenarios: flowers nipped in the bud, seedlings trampled on, towers that come crashing down.

Wonderful things that could have been, had I stayed here a bit longer.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I must open my hands, and let go. Hoping that Your Own Hands, o Lord, will return them to me.

No. I let go even of hope. Even that I leave to Thee.

Inspite of all this ranting, I just want to be faithful, and obey.

I do. And hopefully, I will.

I rode a bus to work this morning. Somewhere along Litex a fat old woman with pencilled brows sat right next to me.

Nothing special about that except that she was spoiling for a fight.

She kept complaining to no one at all (I hope) about the heat of the bus, its dilapidated state, and the fact that others happen to be riding the oven-on-wheels. Everytime the bus stopped for passengers she cursed the driver and the conductor, yelling that she's not getting her money's worth because the bus is so f***ing hot, blah blah, and how dare they pick up more passengers when it's SRO already, etc.

I wished she would shut her trap or get off the bus. Yes, it WAS hot, but I've been on worse rides. I knew that complaining about the heat won't make it any cooler, and that losing your temper is bound to make anything worse. So I kept silent.

Then it was time for me to get off.

I muttered a polite 'excuse me.' She swung her massive thighs towards the aisle as if to make room for me, when in fact she made it harder because now her ass and unbelievably broad back are in my way (Note: It's hard to imagine this scenario unless you're familiar with the usual Japan-surplus air-con buses that ply Manila's main thoroughfares. The seats and aisles are so tightly packed that I wonder how the Japs fit in there before). The proper protocol would have been for her to stand up. Anyway, fat-ass notwithstanding, I wanted to get-off the bus in a hurry so I forced my way through her, with my knapsack and stuffed duffel bag in tow.

It seems she got squeezed real tight by my unfeeling bags because she started cursing and yelling at me. Something like:

"Ang bastos mo! taga-Central ka pa naman! p**yeta ka akala ko mababait ang mga taga Central, blah blah blah."

I ignored her of course. She outweighed me by 50 pounds at least and fighting an enraged whale any day would be suicide. Judging from her insults I think she mistook me for an INC minister, what with my formal get-up and all (I was bound for the Japanese embassy later that day). That I found very amusing. So amusing that I couldn't resist a glance back at the bus at I climbed the overpass towards UP. I was already half-smiling when I looked and saw her staring at me with pure hatred.

I gave her one of my classic grins, for which I got a fat middle finger. Which only made my grin wider.

I was smiling all the way to the office.

My smirk should give her something else to rant about for the next kilometer or so. I could imagine the driver thanking me for directing her ire away from him towards me.

I will miss things like these when I start taking the predictable Japanese commutes.