Today, I had the most hassle-full time trying to get home from my CSP session at Escopa.

Today after school, as usual I headed off to Escopa to go do my job at KBF, teaching beneficiary children from the depressed area there. It was drizzling and I didn’t want to be commuting to Escopa in the rain. I didn’t have an umbrella or a coat. Fortunately, I was able to get a ride with Rocky who also works there every Friday with me.

I had a great and fulfilling time in my service session today. It’s too bad that just when I start to really enjoy my mandatory job required by school curriculum, it’d be almost over. It’s officially two more service sessions (which are per week) for everyone. Three for me. I have to work for an extra day for being late on service week #3. So I guess I should be thankful I’d be spending more time than usual with the kids there. Before this session to tell you the truth, I didn’t really enjoy the kids in general. They smell, they are filthy, they are noisy and the whole place, situated at a depressed area has an awful stench. And I was expecting all of that. What would I expect, I was working at a slum area. But I wasn’t complaining. In fact, I didn’t really mind all of that. I’m just describing the setting. I still enjoy the idea of helping out by teaching preschool children from poor families once a week for a couple of weeks. But I’d be concealing truth if I didn’t say I wasn’t enjoying the job itself that much. But today was just different. Since the children who attended class were minimal because of the rain (the class which I attend to is held at a makeshift classroom at an empty parking lot/veranda of the small KBF building where other classes are being held inside. So rain IS a problem), I was able to give my attention to a small group of kids. Donie, CJ, Venus, and Teddy – I can still remember their names. I sat with them during their coloring activity. And gee – when they tell me something, they look straight into my eyes with those kind of eyes that look so innocent and profound. And it makes me feel much of something that…I don’t understand. But it’s something good. The feeling is something amazing. These children. There’s something that strikes me when they sincerely look at me with their eyes, and tell me stories of how they enjoy playing below the fly-overs of Katipunan Avenue, where they also live. Just when it’s almost over, I am beginning to get attached to these kids. I truly can’t understand the feeling. I also feel the guilt of having to leave them behind to possibly rot after some years. This help that we’re giving them is just for a few weeks, and the whole non-government help they are given by KBF as an institution is just for a year. We might be assisting the development of these children now but it’s just temporary. After this, their families might not have any money to continue giving their children the opportunity to develop themselves. After this year, their parents might not be able to afford to let them continue studies and enroll them in elementary school. I am afraid that years from now, they might just end up as prostitutes and bank-robbers who have to do those things for money. Just because they don’t have money now. Like CJ. CJ is a hardworking kid, and is very smart and really has great social skills. But where will he end up? We may be helping them now, but that’s just temporary. I feel the guilt. I want to help them. Help that will last.

After the kids’ classes, I stayed at KBF for a while talking with the volunteer administrators of the institution. At about 4, I left the place. As usual, from KBF, I took a tricycle to Aurora Market and from there, walked all the long way to the university. Tiring. In my walk, I was still thinking of the past two hours.

When I got at the public transport stop near Gate 3 of Ateneo, a group of hip-hop gangsters from across the street approached the stop. They got ahead of the line and stayed at the no loading corner of the avenue. When a taxi came by, it resisted the gangsters and approached me. Good taxi driver. But then those gangsters just had to race me to the taxi. Before I could get in, they did. Those bastards! But then I soon realized that the reason the taxi was pulling over was not because it was halting for passengers but because it just met up an accident with a construction truck that had supposedly bumped it and damaged its side mirrors. The gangsters got out of the taxi and took a jeepney instead. Good for them. But then, there I was left to watch the dramatic argument between the taxi driver and the truck driver with everybody else nearby watching with me. They kept arguing the same things over and over again for about a quarter of an hour. The taxi driver demanded 50 pesos but the truck driver insisted 30 pesos. Because the argument was taking too long, the taxi driver conceded to the 30 pesos and they parted ways. The taxi driver then allowed me to hire his taxi.

My sentiments were supposed to be for the taxi driver. When I got into the cab, I seriously thought of giving the taxi driver a 20-peso tip to cover up the 50 pesos he demanded for repairs. But I quickly changed my mind when I realized that that sinister driver swindled me.

While driving along Katipunan Avenue, the driver all of a sudden pulled over to accept this tall, sexy and gorgeous lady waiting at the street. The posh lady was gorgeous and sexy and all that but what the hell, I hired that taxi first and now the driver just let in another commuter! When the lady boarded, the taxi went her way. I previously told the driver to take me to our house but the moment the lady got into the taxi, the driver just went to where the lady wanted to go, to the Department of Agriculture, bringing me farther from my place than I was from where I started (at Ateneo).

When the taxi got to the Department of Agriculture, the fare was 50 pesos and the lady paid the 50 pesos. Nearby the Department of Agriculture was the Quezon City Hall. After the lady left, the taxi drove to the City Hall and forced me to get down from the taxi with his silly excuse. Since he halted at the middle of the street and I wanted to avoid any further confrontation, I left the taxi and was forced to pay 50 pesos as well! THAT SWINDLING MORON!

So there I was at the bustling Quezon City Hall. I was not sure how to get home from there using public transport. I tested my luck and boarded a jeepney that was on route to SM Fairview. I believed it would be passing by Montessori, from where I could just walk home. Thankfully, it did. Anyway, it had been more than a year since I last took a jeepney to commute, and the number of times I did could still be counted with your ten fingers. So I wasn’t used to it and I was a bit unfamiliar. I looked like an idiot trying to figure out how much the fixed fare rate was and acting uneasy during the whole trip. Okay, I wasn’t really used to the fact that jeepneys will keep letting passengers in until there isn’t even an inch of space left at the seats.

I also wounded myself trying to get down from the jeepney. Don’t ask me how but it does still hurt until now.

When, I got home, I still had to hurry up and finish writing my article for Hilites Magazine’s spoof issue. I am writing it with a co-writer from third year. When I got home, I dropped dead on the couch and was alarmed when I realized that my co-writer has been contacting me through my cellphone saying that I had to go back to school! What the?! I just got home from a terrible time trying to get home and now I’m supposed to go back to where I started. My co-writer told me to come back to school because he had given me the wrong diskette and the diskette with me was his project due today. It was already 6 o’clock. I was in much hesitation but what the hell, I just conceded to the plea since it’s his project and whatever. I got a taxi and drove to Ateneo again. I told him to wait at Zagu because I didn’t want to enter school anymore. And there, I got to give him the diskette and I received the diskette with our article in it. My co-writer was kind enough to cushion the transport expenses. I’m being drained now.

When I got home, I tried writing from where my co-writer started with our article. In about an hour, I was able to send my article to our editor. You see, today’s the deadline. And we are expected to pass the articles before classes end. So now we were submitting our article at night. And I think the work is slipshod. So I guess I’d be expecting my editor flaming on me again on org period in school this Wednesday.