A Bridget Jones day
Would somebody please throw me into the Pacific Ocean. I want to drown in it and dieeeeeeeee!!!
Today, I just made a complete fool of myself on my first class. It first started when a student at the front row motioned signs that i need to check my back. I normally assumed I had chalk dust on the back of my skirt as this is a normal happening for a teacher who diligently lectures and writes on the board for her whole unappreciative students to hear and copy on their notes. Not wanting to attract attention, I continued babbling away with one hand on my buns trying to take off chalk dust. My hand went higher up where the zipper was located and then that was when I realized that the problem was not chalk after all, but the zipper of my skirt was open! Trying to act casual, I asked the next group to discuss their answer while I nonchalantly went out of the room to go to the nearest bathroom to fix it. After a few struggles ( I had to turn my skirt around several times and wiggle inside one of the small cubicles this friggin' school has in their bathrooms!), I managed to fix the problem. However, when I came back, I then realized that I only have a few minutes left. I was supposed to give them a test! With this in mind and not yet recovering from my embarassment, the heel of my shoe caught and I stumbled as I was going down from the platform stand. After this, my mind already went blank and I mumbled the rest of my explanation on the rules of proper capitalization.
I stuttered more than once, had misspellings of words on the board, and paused in midsentence several times and then forgot what I was trying to say. So, for short, I looked like a totally disoriented fool. I was still feeling dazed sitting on my desk at the faculty office. I don't exactly know why it had all happened. I did take breakfast. I woke up refreshed.
But somehow, loneliness had crept in while I was in class. Sad thoughts came back to my mind just like last night while I was about to go to bed. I probably had sad dreams too, although I couldn't remember what they were, and that caused the sudden disorientation I experienced this morning.
I lost his phone yesterday, you see. It slipped out from shorts pocket while I was riding a jeepney. We had swapped our Sony Ericson's last May (wonderful month, that...); mine was a T600 and his, a T230. I've put his picture as a welcome note so that his face would linger for a few minutes everytime I turn his phone on. My SIM card had contained 29 two-year-old text messages that I had painstakinly kept for such a long time now, all of which came from his old number. Now, I don't have his old messages to look up again everytime I need comfort. I couldn't have his picture staring back at me and smiling reassuringly everytime I go to sleep. Actually, the phone itself had represented him. The idea that he has my phone too with him---there in that Muslim-populated and God-knows-where mountains of Cotabato--- had always given me solace.
I still miss my Honey. I really do. Damn, I want to cry.
