9 TYPES OF JEEPNEY DRIVERS THAT BRINGS OUT YOUR INNER MURDERER

LAHAT tayo—well, karamihan sa’tin, nararanasan magcommute. Sumakay ng tatak pinoy na jeepney. Parang karugtong na sila ng umbilical cord natin. Di ka legit na pinoy kung di ka nakasakay ng jeepney (kahit once in your life). Sanay na tayo sa gitgitan para lang makasabit sa jeep, sa pag-“pull d string 2 STUFF” at pakikisalamuha sa mga jeepney driver, kundoktor, barkers at kapwa commuters. Pero ituon muna natin ang ating atensyon sa mga minamahal nating… jeepney drivers. 

Yes, mga jeepney drivers na sumisigaw ng “sakay na, sakay na. Konting ipit-ipit lang nang makaalis na tayo,” na dinadaig si Justin Bieb—One Direction pagdating ng rush-hour dahil dinudumog ng mga nagmamadaling fans—pasahero. Pero kahit ga’no tayo katuwa makita sila matapos ang ilang minutong pag-hihintay sa pila o sa abangan ng sasakyan, sadyang may mga tipo nilang di natin maiwasang kainisan, kamuhian, kasuklaman. Now. Let’s run down our top 9 kaiinis-inis, masakit sa bangs na jeepney drivers (in no particular order. Na-istress na nga akong isipin sila, pag-re-rate-in nyo pa ‘ko? Di ba pwedeng kayo na lang?) Anyway, our top 9:

THE FRUSTRATED F1 RACER

Isn't it EXCITING? Isn't it AMAZING? Isn't it... DEADLY? YES, IT IS.

Kuya, una sa lahat: gusto pa namin mabuhay. 60kph ang speed limit, hindi 160. Yung otso pesos ko, di ko pa nababayad, lumagpas na ko sa bababaan ko. Kfine. Nagmamadali tayong lahat. May quota ka ng number of trips, may hinahabol din kaming oras. Pero sa pagkakatanda ko, di byaheng HEBEN ang sinakyan ko. Wala tayo sa highway to hell. Lalong wala din tayo sa amusement park at hindi ka operator roller coaster -- just to remind you in case nakalimot ka.

Actually dati,  feel na feel ko sumakay sa mga gantong jeep. Nagbubunking, nagdidrift, sumeswerve, humaharurot sa red light, nakikipag-gitgitan sa mga bus at feeling tricycle na sumisingit sa mga eskinita. Pero nung may nakatabi akong lola na muntik na atakihin sa puso at may nakita na kong tumilapon (true story. Cross my heart, hope you die) na nakasabit sa jeep na pa-Antipolo habang nakatanaw ako sa bintana, hume-head bang sa saliw ng sabog na bass music ng "patok" jeep na sinasakyan ko at pumapapak ng roasted highland legiums--peeled. AY PUCHA. Ekstrim na masyado ang mga pangyayari! Kaya punyemas, lechugas. Kung ayaw mong pasabugin ko ang bungo mo. Jusko... PARA!

MR. SELECTIVE MEMORY

Pasahero 1: kuya, yung sukli po ng wanhandred? Bababa na po.

Driver: *sipol sipol* tralala~lala~lala~

Pasahero 2: kuya, yung sukli ng bente--

Driver: Hoy! Gago! Anong sukli sinasabi mo?? Tandang tanda ko mukha mo. Ni hindi ka nga dumukot sa bulsa mo. Di ka pa nagbabayad!

Hanep. Ang galing, ano po? Pag suklian, kalimutan. Pag bayaran, di mapakali. Dami pang sinasabi. Meron pang signboard na "God knows HUDAS not pay" sa ilalim ng "pull d string 2 STAHP". Pero ang sukli, pakiramdaman ng wagas. Umaasang medyo tangengot si pasahero't kakalimutan na yung sukli. Tapos itotodo pa yung volume ng nakakarinding myusik, umaasa ka rin bang mabasag ang eardrums namin at sumabog ang vocal chords kakahiyaw? Napakahusay, manong. Isa kang dakila.

EDWARD SCISSOR JEEP

Malakas ang ulan. Payday-friday the 13th. At para mas masaya, itapat na din nating balentayms--ay. Di pala pwede 14 pala yun. Anyway, so ayun nga. Dagsa ang tao sa kalsada na akala mo may rebolusyong magaganap. 3 oras ka nang nag-aabang sa sakayan ng jeep. Namamanhid ang legs, giniginaw, basang basa sa ulan, nag-wewelga ang mga bulate sa tyan. What more can you wish for? OPKORS, mga lechugas na jeepney driver na mahusay mangolekta ng pasahero para ihatid sa kabilang kanto. Cutting trip.

Seryoso, manong. Kelangan talaga grab the opportunity para makaipon ng maraming barya? Whatever happened to justice? Chivalry? Equality? Faith in humanity? Hiraya manawari? Sineskwela? Mathtinik? Sesamistriiit--*scoffs* di ka man lang naawa. Di ka man lang naawa kay lola. Kay lola na 4 na oras nang naghihintay na makasakay at makauwi ng bahay. Si ateng saleslady na dose oras nang nagtitiis sa heels nya. Si manang na buntis ng 7 buwan na may bitbit na 5 buwang gulang na sanggol at 12 pang supling. How could you? HOW? COULD? YOU?

MANONG ATATERS

"O, yung mga di pa nagbabayad dyan. Konting hiya."

Uh, eksmyuski. Kasasakay lang naming LAHAT. Di ba pwedeng umupo muna kami? Di makapaghintay? Masyadong excited? Ikakayaman mo ba agad ng bongga pag nakuha mo ng 30 seconds earlier yung mga barya namin? Pramis, magbabayad kami. Jusmiyo. Kumalma ka.

MANONG UNLI

Sabi nga, pag mga lalaki ang nagkwentuhan, kung ano pinagusapan nila am hour ago, pag binalikan mo, yun pa din maririnig mong pinagkekwentuhan nila 3 days after. Pauulit-ulit, paikot-ikot, puno lang ng palabok. Like, "Panis ulam namin kanina… (after 20 minutes) yung ulam na ang sakit sa tyan. Langya, di ko maintindihan lasa… (after 40 minutes) as in, WHOA. Pagkakain ko, nag-alburoto agad Mount Pinatubo sa sikmura ko. Diretso inidoro, pre! (After one hour) …nagsisisi talaga ako sa kinain ko kanina. Sabi na ngang kakaiba ung asim ng lechon, nilantakan ko pa."

Tapos ganyan driver ng jeep na sinasakyan mo sa EDSA. Parang sirang tape recorder. Susme. Kalbaryo. Could you just please stab my ears with scissors, garden scissors, and end my suffering?

THE GREAT MATHEMATICIAN

“Kasya pa, kasya pa. Maluwag paaaa. Labing-lima sa bubong, apat sa gulong. Konting usod, konting kembot. Isara ang mga hita, baka mautot.” Sa ilang taon kong pagsakay sa jeepney, andami ko na ding naencounter na WATDAFUQ moments. Tipong kasya pa daw tatlo, nung tangkain mong umupo, bulsa na lang ng pantalon mo nakatukod sa upuan. Kung hindi lang ako late, manong, hinampas na kita ng heels sa eyeballs at lumipat na ko ng jeep.

Syaman lang ang jeep mo. Hindi dosehan. Matutong magbilang. Yung totoo, anong tingin mo sa jeep mo? Lata ng sardinas? Prison booth ba ito? Na kelangan pagbaba naming ng jeep close-close na kaming lahat? Iba-iba ang sukat ng pwet ng mga pasahero mo. Paki-consider.

MANONG ANGHIT GUHIT

Kuya, nung bang nagkaroon ng oplan tawas, di ka ba nabiyayaan? Hindi pa ba sapat yung araw-araw na polusyong sinisinghot namin, kelangan pati amoy mo guguhit sa nasal passageway namin? May hagod eh. Daig chili pepper. Nakakasunog ng baga. Meron namang sachet na deodorant. Limang piso lang. Pang-kara-cruz nga meron ka, tawas di makabili? Try mo lang. Para freshness ka naman. Malay mo, apter dat, di ka na magtataka bakit di mapuno-puno jeep mo’t nagmamadali magsibabaan mga pasahero mo.

THE RANT MACHINE

“Tengeneng motor yan. Tarantadong pedestrian. Gagong trapik enporser. Sira-ulong tindero ng basahan. Walang hiyang byanan. Hinayupak na kapitbahay. Punyetang kape, ang alat. Bwiset na winning number sa lotto. Di ko makuha-kuha! Anak ng patolang buhay ‘to.”

Kuya, una sa lahat: wala akong PAKE. Ikalawa, I.DON’T.CARE. Ikatlo, SYATTAP. Like, seriously. Di kami diary. Di ako si ate Charo o si tyang Amy. Di ako in the mood para making sa mga hinaing mo sa buhay. Stressed din ako, wag ka nang dumagdag pa. One more. One more reklamo, ipapasak ko na medyas ng katabi ko sa bunganga mo. (yes. Nagrarant din ako. Pero ATLIT, di kita pinipilit na making/ magbasa. Choice mo yan.)

THE LAWMAKER

Pasahero: Kuya, kulang sukli ko. Diba trese lang Philcoa-Morayta. Estudyante.

Driver: Walang estudyante ng sabado.

Tengene, manong. Naka-uniporme ako. May ID. May bag. May dalang notebook, textbooks at calculator. May pasok. Naka-enroll. Panong walang estu-freaking-dyante ng sabado?? Anong tawag samin pag sabado? MARTIANS?! In fairness, ang gago mo there. Gumagawa ka ng sarili mong batas. Anong next? Wala na ding senior citizen pag linggo? Ikakayaman mo ba ng bongga ang pisong ipagkakait mo sa mga kawawang estudyante na nagpapakahirap mag-aral at pinagkakasya ang kakarampot na baon para lang makapasok sa eskwela?

Teka wait sandali. I know, wala na kong karapatan magreklamo bilang gradweyt na ‘ko. Pero pucha. Pag naaalala ko, bumabalik talaga ang kulo ng dugo ko. Lechugas. Facundo, i-BP mo nga ako! Magmadali ka!

Pero kahit ganyan sila, nakakajirits, masakit sa bangs, nakakakataas ng presyon ng dugo. They make our everyday life easier, somewhat more entertaining and interesting—in the most affordable rate. Kaya kahit sumpungin si manong driver ng attitude and makes you wanna flip five tables in three seconds, relax. Breathe in, breathe out, sabay dighay. Para “hayahay… ang buhaaaay.” (Jusme. Eto pa. Peyborit radio station nila yan ‘no?? It’s so kaka-g-r-r-r.)

"Aly's Idea Book"

So, I was in my room, having nothing to do, scanning thru all my stuff.. and I found this notebook. "The Idea Book" of a 15-17 year old college girl, a frustrated novelist/composer/artist. It's really all randomness. Ever since, I had this cluttered mind and I brainfart a lot. Sooo, I decided to put it somewhere. A compilation of all my brainfarts. Lots of doodles, random thoughts scribbled, (most of it doesn't really make sense. Honestly) some unfinished proses and poems, composed songs and all.

For the next few entries, you’ll read all about the “diary” entry of a teenager and snide commentaries of her 21 year old self who cringes as she flips thru the pages thinking “WTF, old me? Why are you so emo?”

Entry #1

"Never stand when you can sit, never walk when you can ride, never push when you can pull--for when you slump, the world slumps with you. But when you push, you push alone. That's the idea of Peter Principle. I ask you this: How would you fight a losing battle with life? Would you retreat? Surrender? or stand in your ground no matter what it takes? I tell you this: The world is an enormous battlefield. A gigantic chessboard where we are the chess masters as time as our chess pieces and life as our opponent. A wrong move is a time waster. And in chess, rule of thumb: Never trust your instincts, for they cannot help you. All must be from the head if you really aim to win. Never be afraid to lose the castle if you can save the king. Like in life, don't be afraid--"[sic.]

Wow. Okay, brain. That’s just so... glum. Whatever happened to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, the leprechauns, and the unicorns? Okay. Scratch that. It seems like my brain has been on reverse mode.

Take two.

Right. Life is like a ginormous board game. But it's more like Snake and Ladders than Chess (gosh. I wish I could say it's more like Jumanji, cause that would sound so freaking awesome. But then again... no. Not really) –or probably more like Monopoly? But since I have no idea how that game is played, I'm not the one to comment about that—all of us are the chips playing and we wait for our turn to roll the dice. Some of us reach the end faster, via ladders or by getting the higher numbers. Sometimes, the odds won't be in your favor and your chip would land at the head of the snake and would slide down the tail. Back to square one all over again. Then you'll see the other chips overtaking you and you'll be like "what the hell? No! that's not fair!" of course it sucks, but are you just going to stop playing? Of-freaking-course not, you wait for your turn to roll the dice again and you continue playing. Yah. You stumbled, lose a turn, been held back, but sometimes the tail of the snake is nearer to a longer ladder. Life is full of surprises. Things don't always happen according to plan. You can't go moping around because of that. You adjust.

Every so often, we stress a lot with what we're supposed to do, where we're supposed to be, that we forget that in the end it's all just a game. You win, you lose. That's life. And you lose more when you reach the end realizing you haven't enjoyed a single moment of it. Life is all but a series of natural and spontaneous changes. You resist them, you further complicate your life. Sometimes, we have to "let the chips fall where they may", allow events to unfold naturally; accept what occurs without prejudice, worry, or regret.

Entry #2

"PURPLE LINE"

(Chords: D-F#m-Bm-G)

[Verse 1]

Hello, I meet you again in the end tail of this subway station

I see you making your way outta the crowd, with your face drawn with frustration

[Refrain]

(Coz) Your eyes don't glow, and your lips won't show a smile

Your hands aren't free, and your thoughts had gone a thousand miles..

[CHORUS]

And you aren't free from hiding

All of the worried lines in your face

It all keeps adding up

I can feel that you are tired of searching,

Scanning through empty spaces inside your heart..

Till we meet in the purple line.. (someday, again)

Wish we'll meet in the purple line

I hope to see you there..

[Verse 2]

And now you're trying so hard, to make me feel like I'm a worthless nothing,

But it's not what I see in your eyes,

It's something different but I can't decode it

[Repeat Refrain]

[Repeat CHORUS]

---

Back Story:

It's about a girl, and that someone. "The one who got away". They first met in the "Purple Line" (LRT Line 2. haha. gahd.), shared good memories there and they parted ways there as well. Once in a while, the girl would see him with his new girl and he would see her, too. They would smile weakly at each other, and look away...

Wow. Yah. Based on true story. Okay. Whatever.

The Zombie Apocalypse Effect

Riding a bus, I find myself staring at passing cars wondering “What type of car is the most ideal to survive horde of zombies?” then it hit me. I’m infected! I’m infected with the zombie-apocalyptic-age-mania virus!

Well, who isn’t? Left4dead, dawn of the dead, zombieland, return of the living dead, 28 days later, Shaun of the dead, the walking dead (which is now on the brink of starting their third season) and even Plants vs. Zombies kick-started this craze about the undead grazing your backyard—fought by dancing plants shooting peas, tearful walnuts, and exploding cherries and jalapenos, in search for “BRAAAAAAIIINS”. And now there’s this upcoming movie… WARM BODIES. Right. Thanks, Google… about a zombie version of Edward Cullen that would probably ruin my perfect image of zombies as Twilight had done with vampires.

Ammunitions, painkillers, sufficient food supply and health pack aren’t really the words I encounter in my everyday life. I used to lock my windows because I was afraid someone would try to burglarize our home and not because a multitude of literally brainless walking corpses would try to grab my ankle, rip off skin and gorge on my internal organs. I used to be easily grossed out in a sight of a dead rat ran over by a cab, but after overexposing myself from these eerie creatures, even if I walk across a decapitated mammal on the road gushing with blood and internal organs scattered in the ground, I’d probably just sidestep, cover my nose and be like, “meh”. Wait; perhaps I’d be alarmed that MAYBE somewhere nearby there’s a ravenous zombie wandering, muttering “BRAAAAAAIIINS” and I’m like a sitting duck out in the open.

But thanks to Rick Grimes’ tutorial, (spoiler alert, watch out!) I learned that [a] you can easily fool a zombie by rubbing internal organs from some rotten cadaver in the middle of an alley all over your body, walking slowly and blending in. Well, unless there’s a Howard Stern looking “walker” in the swarm of zombies. That one is really scrutinizing creature in whatever form he is. [b] Zombies, like the cast of Final Destination franchise are live version of happy tree friends’ characters. If you’re out of ammo, just make sure to hit the head, even a stick would come in handy. Skulls aren’t as hard as I once thought. [c] When you lose one of member of your crew in the middle of a zombie attack, (especially a kid) don’t try to find him/her, you’ll just waste a whole season, more people and ammunitions in that search only to find out she/ he is dead. Surprise, surprise. 

And then, there is my left4dead training [code name: Zimmer550] that taught me about the hierarchy of zombies. The average zombies, the totally disgustingly bloating boomer, the smoker, the hunter (which probably were comprised of parkour experts, Jackie chan wannabies and gymnasts in their past life), the witch (the zombie version of overly attached girlfriend), the tanker (which looks like the stone man in fantastic four and are probably the mutated and zombified WWE superstars)

Nuff said. It’s really a crazy world we live in. There are billions of possibilities. Who knows? Maybe in the parallel universe, this world we live in is ACTUALLY overrun by zombies where lives either my zombie or badass survivor version. Nah. Well, the thing about this craze that pulls us into it is its unrealistic nature. It’s never gonna happen but it felt like it has a possibility of happening in the so called “end time”, it’s more like fantasy mixed up with a little bit of reality.

Well, I guess I’d be ending this here. I’d just go outside to zombie-proof our house. Find a car… or a horse left unattended. Remember. Watch your back.

P.S.

We’re all infected.

Real life vs. Movie Scenes

I always wonder: How awesome could it be if my life is like my favorite movie, TV series or sitcom? You know, with those ear-catching soundtracks playing in the background that suggests something big is going to happen so you must keep your mouth shut and tune in. Where slack days are just short good ten seconds flashes and everything happening in my life is interesting enough to draw people’s attention to me, tears escape my eyelids and roll down my cheeks because of something really heart wrenching and not just because I accidentally rubbed my eyes with after I put on some Vicks vapor rub in my runny nose. Where I take the lead role that incidentally comes out with all these witty puns that keep other people from talking. And when I say something very funny in an awkward situation there would be these recorded laughter, cheering and clapping in the background to back me up. 

But apparently, life isn’t like the movies. AC/DC and Foster the People don’t play in the background whenever I walk down the street wearing clothes that I think are dazzling and look damn cool on me. Well, not unless I put on my earphones and listen to my playlist—which wouldn’t count because I’d be the only one hearing it and would see how amazing and badass it would look like. My comments aren’t always clever… or articulate. I am not as hyper-verbal as Emma Stone or Robert Downey. No. Not even close. The people I meet in my everyday life don’t suddenly break into musical numbers with other people just minding their own business in the background then get back to their normal lives as soon as the song ends as if nothing happened. There aren’t always romantic scenes, and when there is, I can’t help myself from ruining it just because I find it too cheesy. There isn’t a narrator that can explain to me what on the earth is happening whenever I lost track or miss an episode in my life. There aren’t recaps, no encore telecasts. When I reminisce, the flashbacks aren’t as accurate or vivid, and my everyday life isn’t as eventful or dramatic as Keeping Up with the Kardashians—which, just to be clear, I DON’T really watch… Well, there’s just couple of times, I guess? Anyway, as I was saying, my life isn’t as awe-inspiring as the chick-flicks and drama series. I don’t even think that I look half as good as my favorite character. Duh. Belo didn’t even have the chance to touch my skin. (Wow. That just sound so bitchy) but the thing is, life don’t have to be always incredibly awesome. It doesn’t always feel relatable to other people. Emotions aren’t well rehearsed; the lines aren’t well fabricated and memorized; the dialogues don’t always sound witty; Monologues in an empty room often sounds creepy; I’m the only one hearing those thoughts in my head; and even if the people I talk to don’t follow the script I plan in my head, the camera won’t stop rolling even how often or how loud I say “CUT! DAMMIT! I SAID CUUUUT YOU FREAKING @&^*$!!!”

In the real version of my life, my body is actually made up of bones, muscles and billions of cells and not titanium, springs, soft cushion and all other stuffs. I don’t think I would survive a twenty storey fall just because I slid down a very long red fabric that magically appears out of nowhere or because I accidentally grabbed a rope midair and rappel my way down and where window-smashing won’t hurt my skin. I’m a definitely destructible creature. I bleed easily, way too easy, I must say. My clothes actually get dirty after I roll in mud-spattered road and they don’t magically dry up after two minutes of walking. Plus, I’m not as stupidly brave as those people in horror movies who walks straight to the kitchen when they hear strange noises without even caring to turn on the lights. What? Do they have some sort of night vision? I see my life in a first person point of view, which is of course a very subjective way in looking in life. There aren’t special effects; no editing, no take two’s or director’s cut. There isn’t this overwhelming sequence of events that leads to the climax.

But the good thing is that after that climax, we get to see what happens next, the awkwardness, awesomeness and all that. It doesn’t just automatically flash to the next scene. Life is spontaneous; there isn’t always a well structured plot. And if there is, we always have an option not to follow it. That is why real life is fun. We get to enjoy, suffer and feel every bit of it. We are our own director, playwright, cast and crew. It is unremitting. We don’t always have to cut it short for a matter of two hours of entertainment. Movies are just second rate trying hard copycat versions of the real life situations. Life cannot be pirated or downloaded in .avi or .mp4 format. And the best thing is: Life is always seen in HD and is way better than digital 3D.