about the talking fish

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Writer. Wheelman. Occasional DIY mechanic. Walking collection of hang-ups. Hopeless romantic. Old-school. Analog soul in a digital world. I am all of these things and more.

Thursday, January 15, 2004

I came pretty close to getting killed this morning.

While crossing the street to school on the pedestrian crossing, an oncoming red bus didn't seem to give any regard to my safety, much more other pedestrians. Bong told me I was one foot away from being roadkill.

Such a shame I was too shocked to remember taking note of the fool's plate number.

My body hurts. No doubt a result from all the badminton I played yesterday, as well as my new morning jogging habit on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I haven't felt so depleted of energy in a long while.

I wonder how I'd fare in training tomorrow...that is, if I do train. Amazingly my allowance this week ran out on me without me making any significant purchases. Well okay, so I owed Ailyn PhP200 for last Friday's training and I paid for it this Monday. But other than that I was pretty stingy.

Hmmm. I'm saving nothing so far. Damn.

I got a subject in Salesmanship (MARKSAM) this term...which has me and my classmates selling stuff. Our quota's pegged at PhP20,000.

Yikes. I've never been great at persuading people, let alone selling anything to people. A PhP20,000 quota scares me, quite frankly.

At least I'm getting an early start though: I've found two buyers for the "magic wallet" I'm using now, at Villamor AFB. The wallet pretty much snaps folded bills into place with nothing more than folding motion and elastic thread, but it's a novel and convenient way of bringing bills. Only downside's that there's no provision for coins.

Anna was cheering me up, telling me I could do it. I sure damn hope so.

At least our MARKSAM prof, Mr. Carlos Maglutac, seems like a likeable guy. He's big, fat and nocturnal (he works in a call center and teaches our afternoon class without a wink of sleep for 18 hours plus), and he's the jolly type who knows how to make us laugh.

He says he can teach us to persuade people into doing what we want them to do. I always wanted that sort of ability. Bring it on.

Mao gave me an idea. Just thought of resurrecting an old poem I wrote four years ago.

[Serenade In Your Sleep]

You don’t know me, but I know you well
If I wrote your memoirs, like pancakes they’d sell
With every day, we often see each other
It’s just that with me, you never dared to bother

I know you’re so sick of capricious men
Who see you as a pretty face and nothing much else
And grow tired of you after all the wedding bells
I must confess though: I’ve been one of them

At this point in time I know I could’ve done a lot
Just to prove to you I’m worthy of your heart
I could’ve swooned you like so many men
Yet I remain aloof, seemingly indifferent

We won’t ever get acquainted, I know that by now
Perhaps it’s for the best, but I’m having my doubts
My friends tell me, all I can do is keep
You in my heart, serenading you while you sleep

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