They usually say make the most out of your day, do what makes you happy, and never cease in asking God for guidance because a day is not just a day. It could be a defining moment of happiness and pleasure, it could be a sucked up, appalling, roughly tragic phase in your life you’d even wish it never happened. And damn, it could even be your last f**cking perky day on Earth’s crust.I start my day at 5:15 in the morning. As I open my eyes upon the buzzing alarm from my phone, I scarcely take a moment, look at the ceiling, and digest the fact that I need to get up from the malleable, subtle and muted peace within my bed. Five minutes of concentration finally motivates me to rise and sit over my bed, grab my life-size book near me, appreciate how it destroys my once fun existence, and BooM! You guessed it right. I slept again. I would absorb the moment upon waking up for the second time, and realize it’s already 6:15, and it’s my judgment day with the snooty ego in school, which I believe I have a very healthy relationship with. I’d hit the shower, scrub as hard as I could, do my extra leisure moment while doing the shower, dress up, pack my paraphernalia’s in my bag (habitually, I always leave something at home, so that would mean more academic deductions), bid my mama goodbye, she would stop me then from leaving without having breakfast, I eat a spoonful of egg, drink milk, meds, and leave. My Mama would stop me again, give me something to eat for breaks (oh yeah, she treats me like I’m 10 or something, but I love it though), papa sends me to school, whack the traffic, get to school, then I’d be late for 15 minutes, get to that class door, interrupt the class, and then the teacher stares at you, so will your other 49 classmates, I give them my unreserved smile, and say the magic words “I’m sorry sir”. They usually smile too, I don’t know for what reason, maybe feeling bad for me because I get late almost everyday, maybe they think I look funny(or maybe cute), or maybe it’s nice to smile after having an all messed-up jumpstart.
During class hours, I frequently feel sleepy. I extend my arms, put that life-size book over my desk, place my non-dominant hand over that book and lean towards it, one more minute and once again, Mr. Benedicto fell asleep. That peace rarely last for more than 3 minutes or so, because my trusty seatmate would ask me to get up and listen. RD’s come up shortly. I’ll rattle myself with rationales and all those other “just kill me right now” stuff. CI’s are already preparing their set-ups for the dreaded demonstration. I, on the other hand, pitch more with my paraphernalia’s, becoming conscious of the absence of some of my stuff. Good thing however, I belong to the section where the coolest people gathered. These unselfish, good-hearted people would go extreme just to help me out with my laxness. And before you knew it, there goes our beautiful clinical instructor (she’s only 23), articulating; “first pair, dela Pena and Benedicto!” I felt that was the end of my nursing career already. I only commit to memory the procedure, no rationale, no practiced performance, nothing else but a partner named Joey who I would entrust my nursing career with, for that moment of course. Things went on smoothly; I murmured every possible “common sense” thing as an alternate for my rationale, we almost ridiculed ourselves during the demonstration since my partner is positively a fun guy. Then, we went out of that dreaded room and realized we both got a 96% mark. Surprising, isn’t it? I was so relieved. I can’t deem the fact that I can really go carefree once again. And so, I did. I chatted with my classmates the entire morning and afternoon (that was like 8:30am-5:15pm), and we ended up doing this sort of mini-concert while waiting for others to finish with their roasting hours. 15 minutes before dismissal and I still got a few minutes to lay my eyes on that pretty face I see on south-east direction (we aren’t that close but we are delightful text mates). I’m dumbfounded with the fact that our only interaction is Me:“Musta RD?” Her response:“OK lang man, ikaw?” Me:“OK lang pud.” Her response:“Ah”, then she pauses with those glittery eyes and she flashes that smile so familiar, very close to that Korean chick I see on TV. Sigh. Now you have an idea how geeky I could get. Too much info already! After that brisk and blissful moment with her, I’m mindful enough to be back on track. Next stop is our weekly rehearsal at a recording studio here inDavao. At the time I would get to the place, I’d be 30 minutes late already, since class ends 5:30pm and scheduled company rehearsal is set on 5pm. They knew the situation nonetheless. I was doing this schedule for the past 2 years that I’m with the company, that’s the reason why they we’re used to it, all you need to do is ask permission with the exec.boss’ and they’ll be ok with that. Education comes first in the company. It’s top priority for their younger talents, they’re really great mentors. As I reached the place, one of them would immediately say, “Dog!Aba, wasak ka nanaman?” It’s a nice greeting, huh? She’s doing this since I’ve been very busy clutching all those huge bags and books. Immediately we’d start the rehearsal, singing anything our dear SP has in mind. After the rehearsal, we’d go to a mall, situated somewhere here in Davao, Go to top floor, enjoy siomai and tropical fruit salad, chat about life updates with my workmates/friends/gimmick buddies/ka-dogs, do movie previews, discuss different dense and most of the time, lousy matters. We sometimes laugh that as if we own the place. We’d be finish by the time the place closes, so as the entire mall. I would promptly go home after having dinner, unlike my other pals who would rather hang-out somewhere else. As I arrive home, my papa would unlock the gate for me; my loving mama would ask me if I already had my dinner, (see, they love me so much, I cant elaborate much on this, tear …haha) I’m their only kid now, what do you expect?! I take a shower, do my extra leisure moment while doing the shower, get dressed, brush my teeth and lay on the malleable, subtle and muted peace within my bed. It’s time to do all the replies for all those who texted the entire day (If I’m really busy, I customarily wouldn’t answer text messages immediately, unless important of course). I also get to sms that pretty face I see on the south-east direction at class, whom I always snooze out on. I say my prayer. I toss out the cd player, pop in my Limewired American Idol disc, feel sleepy with the third song(I’d be asleep with Norah Jones’ first song, that girl is the Mistress of Sleep), and be in full peace in the cuddle of the best thing that the human race practiced. . . SLEEP.
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