remembering the teacher who cures insomnia

I have to admit this time and time again: blogging is very difficult. I blame this on my computer lesson teacher in high school. My goodness! You just have to listen to her voice to get your insomnia cured! I have to apologize for blaming her here, but it’s true. She deserves it. Well, I think showing her a dirty finger is just too much so I’m not going to do that. But I blame my ignorance to her.

Why?

She provoked me not to learn how to use the computer well. The way I remember our classes, she could not explain our lessons very well that I even had to crawl toward our valedictorian’s seat during our exam just to let her teach me how to answer the questions about Microsoft Excel and other programs I have now forgotten. Her teaching strategy did not excite me; it bored me to death that I did not realize I was already sleeping in her class. She is the perfect example of teachers that should re-take the teachers’ Board Exam and then undergo a one-on-one training on how to effectively teach computer classes inside an airconditioned classroom where high school students tend to fall asleep and dream. And another thing: she is struggling with her grammar. I’m sorry.

That’s why I’m way too behind with my peers when it comes to computers. I had developed this weird kind of fear a long time ago whenever I face the computer and then use the mouse and the keyboard. I remember being afraid of using the computer for fear of ruining the programs or worse, deleting them. So, besides Mathematics, cockroaches, snakes, spiders, drunkards, and gangsters on the streets, I was also afraid of computers. It’s really embarrassing.

Well, the good thing though is that I’m making up for my loss. I am actually starting to explore more about the newest programs and learning how to use them. It’s very difficult for me especially when I’m alone. The thing still scares me though. There’s still that fear I couldn’t name, couldn’t explain. It’s just there waiting to prance at me.

I’m writing this because I could not get the feeling off me that I’m such a loser in using this stuff. I wish I could just scream in front of that teacher’s face for one minute and then go.

a sweet, neglected moment in a crowded jeepney

Perhaps, the most interesting thing that could happen inside a jeepney, besides waiting for long hours during traffics, or wiping your glazing forehead, or fanning yourself with your hand and muttering curses under your breath, is when your legs get too close with another’s, and then realizing that all the legs you’re seeing are actually doing the same thing. And you can’t do anything about it.

It’s funny how I realized that just lately. Everyday, I ride the jeepney going to school and back home and it’s when heading home that I usually experience riding in a very crowded jeepney wherein even half of my butt sits while the other hangs helplessly until, if fortune does not come, I arrive at my destiny with my knees shaking and tired. Even legs, I realized, can tell a bit of who their owners are. There are some who prefer showing their smooth, bare legs while other choose to hide theirs. Others have huge ones; some, lean ones.

I think it’s the sweet part of riding jeepneys, even though some of them are too old already and run very slowly, or better, when their covers still shine under the sunlight and have cool surround-sound speakers attached inside. Even though it’s hard looking at this very minute, sentimental detail, I’m glad I’ve seen it anyway. At least I’d have the leisure of looking around different, colorful feet, then up to the varying sizes of legs, and all the way up to the different, blank faces of these strangers, and then mutter a simple thanks for the opportunity of appreciating one of life’s simple, irritating experiences inside crowded jeepneys. Yes, instead of finding myself swearing secretly in my head and hoping that I’ll soon arrive at my destiny.