early biatch mode

It’s 8am and I’m here in the office blogging because I’m just so irritated.

This checking of bags by security guards in the LRT or in any other place should just be stopped. It’s getting so ridiculous because they don’t really check anyway! Like today, as I was entering the ticket station of the LRT, I breezed through the lady guard, just raising my paper bag for her to check. But no. This lady had the nerve to ask me, and rudely at that, to open my bag. While giving me a mean stare! I swear. So I opened my bag and looked back at her as piercingly as I could. And I was fighting the urge to ask her, “O ano, may nakita ka ba? Bitch!” Oh well, as they say, don’t let little things ruin your day, so I kept silent.

I mean , what is with all the checking nowadays? In Landmark, going to Greenbelt, guards just chat with each other while poking your bag with their god-forsaken sticks. Such a big hassle for everybody. I bet, when a bombing occurs, these guards are going to be on their toes once again.

So anyway, I was inside the elevator already going up the 3rd floor. I happily settled in the corner near the door and noticed that my floor was first among those pressed. As the door opened, I said, “Excuse me,” but this insensitive girl moved only like an inch. I looked at her and I repeated, “Excuse me,” and this time a bit louder and more irritated-sounding. Still, she didn’t budge. I had to squeeze myself out like I always do getting on the MRT. I had the urge to bang her head on the elevator walls to knock her out. But then again, violence isn’t me so what I just ended up doing was give her a glaring stare (hmmm…today I’ve done a lot of staring in an hour) when I was able to get off the elevator. Haha! So mean, huh? I swear, what is it with today?

*
Earlier today, I came across a couple holding hands while commuting. And my reaction was, “Aaawww…” Personally, I think there is nothing as sweet yet mundane at the same time, as holding hands. In public, at that.

You see, I take this as nothing less than a gesture of exclusivity for the couple. Like a grand indication of ownership, even. This, perhaps, is the most widely accepted public display of affection in society (unless you’re in Paris where French kissing is as commonplace as fake DVD hawkers here) , except of course when you’re both gay. I even think that there is something inherently romantic in how the couple’s hands just find each other so effortlessly and fit as if seamlessly. Sigh. Call me a hopeless romantic, I don’t mind.

This notion of holding hands can often serves as an announcement to the world. Of what, you may ask. Well, for grandparents still holding hands, perhaps a declaration of love that’s stood the test of time. For new lovers, maybe a sign of newfound love still tickled pink in the thought of constant togetherness. Possibly, it signifies having found comfort in each other, establishing a sort of normalcy that it escapes and denies any attempts to analyze its constant presence.

Whatever it is, love is subliminally present, though I dare not imply absent, if couples don’t hold hands.