This comfort called FX

With the implementation of the Integrated Bus Terminal Project at the Coastal Mall for southern provincial-bound passengers, many of my colleagues at work take the van/fx at the Mall of Asia. The new system prohibits provincial buses from entering the city and has designated a terminal to load and unload provincial passengers. This has caused problems for and complaints from both provincial passengers and bus operators. The passengers complain that they have to take multiple rides to reach their destination. The bus operators don't quite like the strict policy of dispatch, giving them only five minutes to load passengers. In fact, bus drivers staged a protest yesterday leaving commuters stranded for the most part of the morning.  On one hand, the good news, in my view, is that there are fewer buses on the streets of Manila, no more crowding at Roxas Boulevard corner EDSA. The AUVs and vans are, of course, exempt and thus enjoy the freedom to ply the city from any point of Luzon. Like me, most would rather take one straight journey (and it can be cheaper, too) than hop on and hop off several vehicles even though buses are slightly more comfortable than the vans/fx.

At the Integrated Bus Terminal at the Coastal Mall in Paranaque

While I acknowledge that taking buses is more comfortable than taking the FX, my choice is still the latter. I still take it knowing that my knees will touch someone else's when I face that someone, or that I will have to settle for a small share of the seat. But complain I shall not do.

Yet,  I have to understand the "in-out, in-out" dynamics in public utility vehicles, particularly in FX. I find this an interesting topic to observe as it covers gender, age, and physical factors.

Just what dictates who gets to take a full space in a room full of passengers in the FX?

More than two decades of commuting could not give a me a definite answer to my questions. I do have observations, however. More than anything, I think it's one's comfort that makes a passenger claim his/her well-deserved butt space. It is with this thought that I look forward to having slender girls as my co-passengers in the FX. Usually the person who is last to enter has the unfortunate distinction of being 'out.' More women than men tend to go 'out' without being forced to do so; men are likely to squeeze their seatmates while women don't want to be squeezed. I suppose, at times, there is powerplay in the game; the passengers who have their right share of space assert themselves, knowing perfectly well that only three and a half people could comfortably sit in the car. The 'half' passenger must know his or her place. Young ones with their headsets on are likely to ignore everyone else and be oblivious to the rest as long they are seated properly and enjoying their music. Although I see people ask that they be let out if they cannot sit properly, most still go on with their journey uncomplaining. Those who try to make a big fuss would get comments such as, "Mag-taxi ka na lang (Take a cab)" or "Bumili ka ng sarili mong sasakyan (Go buy your own car)."

Those Asian Utility Vehicles can accommodate four  passengers in the backseat regardless of the shape and size of the passengers. THEY MUST ALL FIT. Through the years, I have seen different models of cars, not exactly AUVs that are made to be "FXs." There are now vans that are being used. AUV Express as it is known has been gaining popularity among the riding public. The FXs, Revos, HiAces provide some comfort, airconditioning, and terminal to terminal service to the growing middle class who do not wish to take the jeeps, ordinary buses or multiple trips. The FX riding public has developed patience, understanding, apathy and selfishness all at the same time. Who is to blame? Conditions, presented to them day in day out, make them the way they are. 

Does this mean that car-owning individuals are a different breed of their own?

I am not so sure about that, although one thing I am sure of is that we all take the same road. It is how we deal on the road that spells the difference, whether you are in a car, taxi, bus or FX. 

Random picture on the plane. Unrelated photo.

Remiss, revisit, retell and reflections

So I have been remiss in a lot of things, such as blogging and even failing to greet friends on their birthdays. One dear friend said she did not expect that I would miss her birthday after greeting her the day after.

Yes so much has been going on that I have no blog post for the previous month; last month should have been a great source of posts because a lot happened. But, no, I did not write any.

It has very been very busy. But I was thinking of topics to write.

First in my list is this:

I plan to take the train by October. I have no idea where I am going, but I'll definitely be riding on one.

You see, before the year ends, I will be going somewhere, a different continent, for a long time. Taking the train in the Philippines is certainly in Commuter's must-do list. 

I hope to be able to write something on this train ride I will be taking.

Another post worthy of its own post but I am not doing one is my Sagada trip with my good friends. It was a well-deserved break, a total contrast from the life in the city. It has been weeks since that trip but I am still raving about it. Enduring the 13-hour ride to Sagada and back was nothing compared to the experience of the culture, nature, the people and weather of the Mountain Province, a northern Philippine province, that we were able to enjoy for two whole days.

At the Pasay Terminal of Victory Liner. Baguio bound.

Mountains upon mountains welcome you as you make your way to Sagada. Truly breathtaking.

Rice terraces abound.

The Big Falls in Sagada. It was a long trek but worth every step.

Market day in Sagada

American influence, not Spanish, is evident in Sagada. There are very few Catholics in this predominant Anglican society that still honors the indigenous traditions of Sagada's ancestors.

Traditional burial site

Cave formations

A day-long wedding celebration that I was very fortunate to gatecrash. Native dances and instruments provided entertainment to the guests of the bride and groom. For me, this was one genuine cultural experience.

Good things must come to an end; hence, a trip back to Baguio must be made before heading toManila.

The randomness of this post is similar to my "Northern Exposure" adventure I had. I was with adventurous and sometimes 'random' people that made the trip more enjoyable and memorable.

Baguio became part of the itinerary because Manila-bound buses were scarce, and we had to wait until the evening to get our ride. In the process I got to see a bit of Baguio. This was a place I enjoyed going to when I was younger, and up to now. Call it stupid but foggy places such as Baguio bring me joy. Just imagine how happy I was when the city was (nearing) one-digit visibility.

Fog in Baguio

I did pray for a safe travel back to Manila, knowing quite well a typhoon was wreaking havoc in some places in Luzon and Visayas at that very moment. My prayer must have been heard because nothing untoward happened on our descent to Manila. The days after that however became witness to the might of "Maring" that left Manila and large parts of Luzon underwater.

Sunday night, August 18, I was out from church when the rain started to show signs that it was not stopping. I spent the next two days at home as work was called off, and there was just absolutely nowhere to go with the unceasing rain.

Dark clouds in the horizon. Taken from my window.

Sister approaching the building. She had our food with her so it was important that I meet her at the ground floor. hehe.

The reports of the typhoon showed the catastrophe brought by typhoons, clogged drainage and human irresponsibility. On Wednesday, a holiday, I simply had to go out for I missed the outdoors terribly. On the main road, I saw for myself the post-typhoon scenario: shops were still closed; garbage, silt, mud were everywhere; children were playing in the puddles. I hopped on a jeep and, to my surprise, initiated a talk with the driver. He was not able to work for two days, the driver said. I sat patiently and quietly as he waited for more passengers to ride his jeep.

Mentor

After a not so warm reception by our lecturer for our lack of participation and intelligence, the sight of my former professor on the same bus to Las Pinas was refreshing. I would not have noticed her had it not been for a girl who got off leaving a vacant seat for me to sit on. My professor must have been tired after a long day at the university; she looked as if she had a shuteye on the bus. I greeted her as soon as I took my seat. She wiped her eyes responding to my greeting.

"How are you?" She was motherly as always.

I dominated the whole conversation during the one-hour commute. I couldn't stop from blabbering; she was very encouraging and she appeared as if she was really listening.

I talked about my new work where she replied with sincerity, "How great! I am happy for you!"

I still consider myself a teacher, and hearing that from a fellow teacher, especially from someone whom I respect and admire, I was in heaven. I think she was actually proud of me. My former insecure self always wanted an affirmation of sorts from my former teachers. I guess, this time, I got it. It feels great to see my teacher take joy in my small achievement. Her smile said it all.You see this teacher of mine is considered a pillar in our department. Mrs Mendiola she is called. She is brilliant and well-liked. A PhD holder in Linguistics, US-trained and an achiever in her own right, she was looked up to by many. She is my mentor although she doesn't know it yet. She will always have my highest admiration.

I will probably not take teaching as a career right now, but if I decide to do so, I will be like her. She once wrote in her profile that she will only stop teaching if her students don't want her to. I guess she will have more years teaching because there will always be a demand for her. But I would also understand if she decides to retire. She leaves daily for work at 4:30 am she says. She even told me that she injured herself after tripping on a road construction; there was no light nor warning device that early that day, yet she went to work. She goes home taking the public bus by herself, and she's not getting any younger.

Bus terminal in Las Pinas

I got off feeling proud, but it was her "Ingat ka, iho!" that made me forget of all the bad teachers I had had.

Passenger Series 4: Solicitor

The teacher in me would have wanted to put my red pen out and put it to good use, but I did not. The guy who gave this to me while inside the bus needed my support and not my lecture. I did not give him anything; I never agree to solicitations done inside moving conveyances. He got off taking with him this piece of paper and his merchandise.

This is not new to me anymore. I have received similar messages and envelopes with matching performances while I am on transit. I do not judge them. People do what they have to do. I would only react negatively if some form of coercion is done; almost all the time, I ignore. I don't feel bad about how I usually react towards this because, I think, genuine show of charity should not be solicited.

Taft Ave corner Kalaw. Formerly Masagana Mall in my college days.

Firsts...

For my first ever paid-lecture outside of the school, I was brought to Cavite. I was wearing a Burberry-print shirt, which was not Burberry, to the seminar-workshop I was giving to  a crowd of college instructors there. Although Cavite is just a few minutes from NCR, it has its distinct feel to it that tells you it’s Cavite. One of those things that sets it apart from the others is the baby bus. I was thrilled to see them along Tirona Hiway. Boy, I wanted to ride one of those, and I did.

It was my first time and it was an enjoyable ride. It had the feel of a jeep and the lay-out of a bus.

Inside the Baby Bus.

I have not explored much of Luzon, I tell myself. I wonder what other novelties I haven’t experienced yet. I suddenly came up with a list.

1.       PNR train

2.      Ro-Ro

3.       Pasig River Ferry

These three I aim to experience before the year ends. I hope you’re still there when those trips are made. Hehe.

Fear?

Traffic-free Ortigas

A day after a bomb exploded on a bus along EDSA in Buendia, taking the life of five of its passengers, I took a bus ride to Manila. I wasn't hesitant to take the bus because I felt that a bomb explosion taking place a day after a bomb incident was not very likely. It created fear, however. At the bus terminal, I particularly chose to sit in front near the door, thinking  that it was the safest place to be in. My place gave me a better view of the passengers coming in. Staring at people's faces is a rude thing that I do, but this time, doing it was more for vigilance than anything. I looked at their bags, too. I knew I was not being paranoid. Or was I? Fear, as I mentioned, got the better of me. I observed the bus conductor if he was checking not only the tickets but the baggage as well. In brief, I was particularly worried for dear life.

Law-abiding pedestrians

The incident in EDSA was purely evil, a work of terror, and they successfully instilled fear. It might take a few days until this cautious attitude would wear off. No person deserved to live in fear, and no person deserved to die due to a devil's work. I'd like my next bus or jeepney ride to fear-free. Good that I had a good friend sitting and chatting beside me as we traveled the whole stretch of Alabang-Zapote Road to the equally-busy Taft Avenue in Manila.

At Robinson's Manila, the sight of many foreigners, white men mostly, with local ladies was a comforting picture to an already bad image the country had been getting (I am not hinting that sex trade might be our saving grace in luring international tourism, though.).

What transpired at Rob-Manila was the usual Filipino malling experience that included watching a movie, eating some fastfood and doing a lot of window shopping.

I made it safely back home after an hour of FX travel. That was my Happy Teachers' Day Celebration.

Illiteracy

It's definitely not illiteracy; we have one of the highest literacy rates in Asia. Then, how come many couldn't comprehend a "NO LOADING" sign? I sigh at the sight of them, the signs and the people; the proliferation of these signages all over the metro must have cost the government tons of money. The country's reading teachers and experts might have failed big time due to the increase of  street sign illiterates  who could not understand what those simple words and illustrations mean.

Disregard for signs and laws in general seems to be a reality in Philippine streets. I hope I am wrong.

I was dead tired from work one evening, and I just wanted to go straight home. This was what I did. I went to the transport terminal where, I knew, I would be assured of a seat. It was past nine already, and I decided on taking the bus since it's faster compared to a jeep, and I comfortably took my place by the window. At the Star Mall Alabang Terminal, I patiently waited for other passengers to get in for I know all buses were given a definite time to gather passengers; buses going beyond their alloted loading time literally take a beating from the terminal personnel who strike their sticks onto the buses' body to warn them of their 'overstaying.' So, just after a few minutes, the engine roared.

Just five meters away from the terminal, I saw more people on the street awaiting jeeps and buses. Jeepneys and buses took this chance to get more passengers along a street known to have a "CLOSE DOOR POLICY."

What's wrong here?

The bus terminal was a stone's throw away. Most, if not all, of the people waiting on the road were able-bodied and schooled citizens, yet they appeared to have no notion of a transport terminal. Public utility vehicles , on the other hand, risked the possiblitity of being issued a ticket for a common and known violation. As with the case of the bus I was on, the good traffic officer halted the bus so an exchange of tickets and IDs was to take place. This, among others, delayed my trip home for a few precious minutes.

You and I perfectly know that this is not an isolated situation. For as long as I could remember, people have not been responding very well to the words 'terminal' 'loading' and 'laws.' I wonder what will make them.

Bed

My bed, which I purchased when I was 20,  has been a witness to several moments in my adult life: moments of joy, sadness, comfort, rest, ecstacy, warmth, security and love. The moments are mostly good that's why I just love my bed although it's not the most comfortable one in the world. Nevertheless, I know what the value of a good and useful bed is.

Together with my co-volunteers in Don Bosco Alabang, I recently visited a street children center in Bulacan. Hardly any trace of street life can be seen among the kids, mostly boys, of St Martin de Porres Children Center now. They are beautifully housed in Spanish-style houses, fed thrice a day in a Batanes bahay-na-bato-inspired dining area, and educated in a nearby public school. But the center was not like that initially. The boys had to content themselves with sleeping inside non-working buses donated by Baliwag Transit. Sleeping on buses? That's not new to me. However, to sleep in buses for more than five hours every day is a totally different thing. For the kids of St Martin, sleeping in buses was much better than spending their nights on the streets.

Whatever their reason was, whether to dispose off a rotting vehicle or to practice genuine altruism, Baliwag Transit did those boys some good. Equally important to the comfort that any bed does is the care given to the kids in the hours they are awake. I met the likes of Ate Kaye and Sister Nazareth who look after the street children and orphans of Bulacan. I was happy there were people like them, but I was also sad to see many parentless and abandoned children. The presence of the social workers and the religious who devote their lives to the children makes up for whatever love and care the families of these kids fail to give. The heart, no matter small, could never run out of room.

It is through the demonstration of love for these children that my faith in humanity refuses to go away. It is also through this love for children that I have met wonderful people who took that trip with me to Bulacan. We braved a looming supertyphoon that October weekend, yet we  successfully delivered messages of hope and care.

We got back home tired and late at night already, but we felt rewarded. At home, I tucked myself comfortably in bed knowing that the kids we met would be doing the same. The bed buses now are just remnants of their past, and so are the streets. It would be good if it is kept that way.

The actual buses now serving as a 'storagebus' of sorts

Street novelties

I was not born early enough to see double decker buses roaming the streets of Manila, but when we heard a stationary double decker bus serving as a restaurant stationed at the CCP  Complex, my then college friends and I went to Pasay to at least experience how it was to be in a bus of that kind. It was a novelty for me. The food they served was forgettable but the experience on the bus was not. I did not know much about the reason for the demise of the double deckers of the Love Bus franchise, but just one look at the vertical clearance warnings emblazoned on all concrete and steel structures around the city would give me an idea for a possible reason.

During college also, I constantly wandered who he was or what this Chinese guy did to have many streets named after him. I first saw his name in front of De La Salle University along Taft Avenue. I did not hear of any news renaming the Estrada Street to Ped Xing, but I supposed the latter must have done something equally good. Only after seeing Ped Xing's ubiquitous presence did I realize it stood for something else. On hindsight, perhaps he did something good to merit a universal acclaim. He made sure that when we take his lined street, we would be safe.

These were some of the street novelties in my college life; they may be not new to you, but they were to me at that time. Anything new was a source of excitement and fascination. Now, in this busy life, I  rarely see anything new on the streets, maybe because there has not been anything new out there or perhaps the ugly seems to mask the new.

But I know that it's the ugly that necessitates for new things, and I know, for a fact, that we are progressing. With all  the ugliness out there and the development going on, we should have new and better things to see. Perhaps I did see novelty in those rare occasions when I was not busy even though the streets had ceased to become a venue for appreciation.

Those rare occasions were the times when I wasn't working, a payday weekend.

How do you keep your bus tickets?

Seeing the many tickets stuck in every known crevice of the bus, I know that bus has made its nth trip and has accommodated loads of passengers already. I, too, have somehow acquired that bad habit of sticking my bus ticket into any crack of the seat in front of me or of the window beside me. Everybody is doing it! I used to fold my ticket nicely and keep it inside my coin purse. In longer trips where tickets were inspected, I would slip the ticket nicely around my wrist watch. I was doing some good deed for mother earth by not being a litterbug, but the same cannot be said now. I was imbibing a commuting culture which I had initially deemed wrong. Can I be faulted for perpetuating a custom done by almost everyone?

Culture has given so many excuses for uniformity and social order. When the helmet law for motorcycle riders was enforced, our Indian brothers (Sikhs they were called I think) were exempted since they wore some kind of a turban, a religious accessory,  around their head. When all forms of motored vehicles were taxed and regulated, our kalesa had no regulating body to speak of. Since Filipinos have no notion of proper disembarkation, unconcerned police officers just let jeeps load and unload anywhere. Because corruption is the name of the game, we act oblivious to the transaction going on between the driver and the traffic enforcer.

Can there be an end to all the undesirable ways of the people if the people themselves seem to be tolerant of these ways? Can we completely blame culture?

It's good that I have not been taking buses lately.

Chivalry gone

"Hindi ka gentleman, noh?" my gentleman friend said.

I knew the answer to this question.

My friend must have observed a few commuting instances, or maybe more, that led him to his opinion of me. I guess, for my friend, chivalry can best be seen in commuting among other venues and situations. I think he saw me not offering my seat to a female companion while we were on on board a train.

I feel that I don't owe anybody an explanation for my actuations. If you don't like me, then don't!

BUT this certainly got me thinking. Despite my "I-don't-care" attitude, I wanted to be likeable to a certain extent. I never aim to be everybody's favorite although to be liked by at least two people would be more than great! And maybe that gentlemanly trait might just win me at least one 'like.'

Since I want some 'likes' as in Facebook, I shall explain.

For the longest time, I have been commuting alone; actually, I prefer doing it alone. I have been trained for aggression, in so far as commuting is concerned. "Nandyan na!" The sight of a jeep approaching was my cue. My years of commuting experience has made jostling my second-best skill next to sleeping. This is the reality in Manila, whether you take a jeep, a bus, or the train in terminals where queuing does not exist.  Less aggression would leave you 'ride-less.' This mindset has made me forget other things, including companions. All that was in  my mind was to get in no matter what and sit comfortably. This behavior is dangerous, though. I don't recall getting in fights for doing this, but I nearly injured a woman inside a jeep many years ago in Zamboanga. When a nearly-filled jeep halted, I hopped inside it nearly pushing an alighting woman back to her seat. For a brief moment I saw fear in her and for the seven-month baby in her womb. I felt miserable after. That was a lesson learned. Never charge a pregnant woman or anyone for that matter. I have learned to let people get out of the vehicle first before entering. This is a simple commuter rule yet I learned it the most stupid way.

I still have that agility to seize any seat although I have conducted myself in a more acceptable behavior since that pregnant woman incident. Commuting in Manila taught me more desirable things may it be in commuting or about life in general ,and so did my Manila education. I had feminist teachers for my countless literature classes in Manila. They tried to imprint in my mind 'women power.' I think they have successfully did that as I am very far from being a male chauvinist pig --- a pig maybe but never a chauvinist! hehe. The simple tenet of feminism, "men and women are equal" found its way into my long-term memory that is so easy to retrieve anytime. Hence, if women get tired standing on buses, so do men. (Dear ladies, just leave your comments in the comment box. Thank you!)

Lastly, I have to put my dear mother in this conversation. My wonderful mother has made all of her sons feel like they were princes. My dear mother made everything comfortable for her sons and her daughters who were to come much later. Hence, I am accustomed to comfort. Thus, I want to sit  in jeeps or on buses, and, yes, I am selfish. As a result, I am not gentleman.

They say that one's demeanor is a reflection of one's character, and that it is difficult to change especially when it is deeply rooted in one's childhood. This maybe true or maybe half true, but the truth remains that things can still change, and that the word 'effort' is invented for a reason.

The Workout called Commuting

Since I take four rides to work, I have to make sure that my going to work serves other purposes as well. I usually take a trip to the gym.  I do my cardio, work on some equipment. Yes, the effort is there to lose some weight. I intend to keep my butt size to average since I take jeepneys a lot (Read Upong Piso). In the process of going to the gym , I think I become more agile, flexible and faster.These are what Super-Commuters should possess in times of rushhours. Most of the time, I manage to get a seat and sometimes not. There is a rush in me when jostling happens; I forget some jeepney or bus manners when I'm pressed for time. I MUST TAKE THE BUS NOW! It's like the game, Trip to Jerusalem, where players look for seats, and the unfortunate and sluggish player leaves the game. Fun! Fun! Fun! No, not all the time. In the real life Bus Trip to Destination game, you either (a) leave or take another bus, (b) stand throughout the trip, or (c) squeeze yourself into whatever space left. These are realities experienced by most Manila Commuters. Now, we're just warming up.

For our cardio, athletics comes in. Imagine running after a bus or jeep along a NO LOADING Zone. Track and Field you call it. If we miss our ride, a training in walkathon would come in handy. The required twenty minutes a day to keep a healthy heart is observed by most commuters. We probably would not die of heartattack, but we certainly are candidates for lung problems.

As for the workout, we do a lot of free weights coupled  with cardio. Backpacks, document folders, plastic and papers bags constitute the weights; we carry these as we go about our business around town. We don't have to enroll in a gym to experience sauna or steam as heat-producing places abound for commuters. Nothing beats  natural heat.

Our cool down is that short tricycle ride to our house or that short walk that leads us closer to the welcoming embrace of our family. It is only then we give out our biggest sigh of relief on our commuter workout, and start anew on another workout waiting for us at home. Sigh.

Businesses and commuters

Commuter and Jollibee have had the kind of relationship that most parents would disapprove of, yet like any relationship, the lovers will always find a way to withstand all. We can never blame Jollibee, really; he's just everywhere. He's there for Commuter when rain hits her, when she heeds the call of nature, or when she wants to quench her thirst. She, in turn, will have to give in to his welcoming embrace, robbing her off some of her values.But she would always have a reason to come back.

 Now, how do I say that Jollibee has increased its meals by at least three pesos with that kind of introduction?

Sad.

It doesn't take a sociologist to determine the kind of people frequenting Jollibee. During weekends or pay day weekends, Jollibee has a reliable sample population that is representative of the Philippines' demographics. How I enjoy observing families, couples, and friends eating out. I especially like the sincere laughter and the joy in the eyes of the children as they gobble up their regular Yum Burger and play their Jolly Kiddie Meal toys that their parents indulgently bought for them. They make Jollibee their last stop before heading towards the bus and jeep terminal nearby.

Maybe, now, a bit of joy and laughter would cost three pesos more. I would like to think that I wouldn't mind paying extra for my small share of happiness.  


Will commuter still be coming back to him?
_______________________________________________________________________

Jollibee is but one of the many establishments powered by the wage-earning Filipinos. Another worth looking into is the enterprising Filipinos that bank on the patronage of commuters and drivers. Jeepney and bus terminals make a good specimen. The entrepreneurs know they certainly wouldn't run out of customers.

One concrete example is this store near a jeep terminal in Alabang. It was interesting to see a store thriving six feet above ground level. When I saw this, I was curious as to how transactions are made in this store. As far as I know, the average Filipino is five feet and few inches tall!
 

I took a closer look to see the merchandise. They had candies, bottled drinks and cup noodles! Amazing!

No one can seem to stop an enterprising Pinoy from doing his thing. In a covered walkway in Las Pinas, another southern Manila city, it is evident that he plans to make his fortune from the pedestrians. Towards the end of this walkway is a tricycle terminal. There used to be stalls along this walkway, but it's gone now.

Pictures in this blog

I use my cellphone to take pictures for this blog, and as you know, when you use a mobile phone inside a public vehicle, you are making yourself a prey to snatchers. In making this blog, I try to take pictures inconspicuously; I try not to call attention from anyone. I think hard which part of my trip I should take photos. As a result, the pictures may not necessarily be about the blog entry. It just shows you the images as seen through the eyes of an everyday commuter. If you notice, I don't have pictures taken inside a jeep; I'm not that brave yet, but I might just have some soon. I don't know but I feel safer on the bus than in jeeps, in so far as cellphone snatching is concerned. hehe. I have heard of countless 'cellphone' stories of loss, theft, violence and even death whether aboard vehicles or just simply walking to school or heading home. I don't want to be part of the statistics anymore although I have my own share of stories, and there are tons of them. Wherever I may be, I always think of my security. I really should. We really should.

I have had several changes of numbers and cellphone units. Sad to say, the changing of numbers always had to do with commuting. I was once held at gunpoint; they took two cheap phones just after I got off the FX to cross to my apartment building. Twice I lost a phone inside a tricycle; the second time was because I had a few drinks; I had myself to blame here. And there were other stories that reflected my laxity in my possessions. Admittedly, I have myself to blame for most of this; for the other side of the story, the blame is on the devil-possessed criminals whose aim is to put fear on people and rob them off their belongings. I hope this kind of injustice ends. No one should experience any form of fear.