It’s 10:52 AM and I’m on the fifth floor of the Queens College Library, sitting at a desk that’s beside a floor-to-ceiling window looking down into the second floor sitting area. I can see four people from up here and they’re busy: lying on a couch, sitting at a desk, reading, sleeping. It’s the first week of classes so the library is quiet; loads of empty seats to make an introvert like me quite happy. I realize my opening sentence was a bit long, and I’m trying to write long, purposeful sentences. That and descriptive writing.
The hole into the second floor isn’t as interesting as the view outside. It’s a beautiful day back in New York City after a three-week vacation in the Philippines. Not too chilly here. Not bad a transition back home, except for the jet lag that kept me from attending the first day of class. The professor knows me from last semester and (I don’t know if he realizes) I missed about half his classes because of… anxiety. People like me shy away from people like him (talkative), but whenever I go to his class, and be social, it’s a huge success to me, and I reward myself by skipping the next class. It’s stupid and self-defeating, and I intend on changing this flaw about myself. I’m going to have to.
Gray smoke rises out from a chimney on the roof of the building next door. It disappears into the air, looking as if it’s being drawn out by the wind. I think that building is the dorm. From this spot, I can’t judge which building it is. Definitely a campus building though. My sense of direction is horrible.
This morning was the first time in three weeks I drove a car. Manila is known for having the worst traffic in the world, and I witnessed it first hand. First thing is there’s too many cars. Too much congestion. Cars don’t signal. I’d be angry all the time if I drove there because I believe that signaling is important. In fact, I believe that if people don’t know how to signal in this country, they should be fined. I think we should also do away with tinted windows so that drivers can better communicate with each other. How does a tinted car communicate with pedestrians? My point is communication.
If you’re looking for parking, don’t stop all of a sudden. Signal. If you’re going to make a left turn, don’t trap me behind you as the right lane continues moving. Signal. And if you have tinted windows, and I’m a police officer approaching your window, I think I’d proceed with more caution than with a car without tints.
Also, do away with the high beam since it’s being overused and disorientates drivers like myself. I can’t count how many times I’ve been blinded by a car with its high beam activated. It hurts my eyes.
I could write a book about the stupidity of New York City drivers. When I drove outside of New York City, to Portland or Philadelphia, I’m a calmer person. New York City drivers make me so angry. It’s a hostile environment. Maybe I’ll write a journal about it. It’s every minute I see someone with a low driving IQ.
I was talking about traffic in the Philippines. Too much traffic, too much pedestrians, but it feels like people are more considerate. And there’s less anger on the road. Here, I could be driving on an empty highway and some prick comes up from behind, tailgates me, cuts me off, and angers me. Bakit?! (“Why?!” in Tagalog)
It feels good to be back home. Or not. I think I just missed my cat, Haley, who’s the most loving cat I’ve ever owned. And my mudder, and my fadder, and maybe my brudder who annoys me sometimes. I regret not bringing my mudder a proper souvenir, something she could cherish for a long time. All I got her was food. But she did ask for fertilizer – well – stuff related to plants. I’ll take them all away someday, away from the stupid drivers of New York City. The Philippines? No.
I’m looking forward to “touring” Virginia this summer. New Hampshire was nice last year, but the Philippines taught me that I want some place warm.