crushed. literally.

Yesterday, I left the Ateneo Professional Schools Congress with a bit of hope and a bit of dream. Mostly I was pondering what was my place in the world when it came to playing my part in nation-building. Lately, it has been mattering to me more and more. I have to do something. What it was, I was uncertain.

I continued pondering as I walked to the Guadalupe MRT Station. When I got there, I was aghast by the number of people. It has been quite a while since I set foot there though there was a time that was my stop. It was re-awakening of MRT rush hour.

With exasperation and surrender, I positioned myself in the throng of people that stood by each door. How I wished there was a line but that seemed logistically impossible given a people that lacked discipline. Myself included.

At first, I was in the general section instead of the ladies' (scoff) section. After two cars, I noticed that the cars for women had more space so I decided to move to that part. It was a mistake to have done so. I should have stayed with the men than be in a stampede of women desperate to go home. Though that was the least bad thing about the situation.

After a couple of cars, another came with a couple of cars which had relatively more space to accommodate people. I was to find out why. The women in the car refused to go in the center section! Despite the sardine situation by the doors, none of the bitches would budge to make way for more people to be able to ride. I was absolutely infuriated. Such inconsideration!!! Out flew the window my thoughts of a better Philippines. Sheesh.

A couple more cars came until I was pushed by a wall of people inside the train. I didn't need to move my legs at all. I just allowed myself to be pushed. And there I was on the train. I tried to make it to the other door because I was just a couple of stops so I can get out easily without having to worry about getting left behind. But no, none of the women refused to move to the center. And I bet more than half of those are getting down Ortigas or Cubao.

I had to be impolite and brutal myself. I had to push in between people, which I was sure would push others as well, to get to the other side.

When my stop came, getting out was as disastrous as getting in. People were trying to get in, people was trying to get out with me. Someone was shouting, "may bata, may bata" which hardly mattered even if it were women in there. After what seemed like eternity, I made it out.

So much for hope and trust and dreams.

It was a rude awakening. Not all people are as giving as they should be. I was angry. Pissed. Irritated. But that doesn't mean I want to give up. It didn't make my resolve better. I was just myself in the unforgiving real world. Where little things can get in the way the greater scheme of things. Little things that eat away at your resolve.

But this is the world. It has ceased to be flowers and butterflies since the bronze age and currency. But this is the world. People are stubborn. I will just have to make that constant choice to be stubborn in a good way.