It’s half past ten, I’m a little drunk but I don’t think I need anyone now


Bec sometimes I type entries on my phone.

Typed this around 1130am-0145pm.


The more I venture into the streets of this continent-sized barangay, the more I feel smaller and less significant. Also, the possibility of rejection looks higher.

Sometimes when we go farther from the bukana I say to myself, “I could be killed here and no one would know” or “Manong (driver) could kill me here and no one would know”. But then again, I have to have faith in the goodness of mankind. And if I die, as if I still could do something about it anyway.

We found two houses in what seemed like under five minutes. Hopes were up. GV. Third house stood proud. Manong driver said the person who lives there is connected to UP (How? I don’t know. I didn’t ask.) The househelper told me that the only person who lives there is too busy and probably won’t be able to attend the group discussion. I understood and just insisted that she keep my letter.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the owner arrived. I explained to him myself and my business. He told me what he thinks about it -too much paper, there should still be plastics.

I though I should cut him and he should just tell all about these on the group discussion on Saturday. So I told him that if he’s not too busy, I’d appreciate if he comes. And then he told me there;s so much to do – he has so much to do. I understood. But he went on. Said he was too busy and I should not bother him of what  I do. Then he returned my letter to me. If I had any doubts before about a stranger’s ability to break your heart, today that was all wiped out. It felt like a hand ripped my heart off my chest, crumpled it like paper,  threw it on the floor, and stepped on it a thousand times. All of that in that moment of person handing me back my letter. It was already too much to ask me not to bother him. It felt like thesis-ing is just a kid’s game. But not even pretending to have any intention of reading my f*cking letter.. Gahd. That was my blood, sweat, tears, sanity and insanity. I almost cried. If it just wasn’t embarrassing for Manong driver, I could’ve bawled. I felt like wanting to instead pursue Planning (SURP)  over Envi and Natural Resources Mgt.

Anything. Anything away from social science shit.

Was that or this how it felt like for those who’ve just started as soc sci researchers? Or do they still feel like this even after months or years of rejection? Of dismissal?  Of apathy? Indifference? My redundancy? Can I stand this? This work, my thesis (proposal), is like this because I had hoped of making a difference. But what if I am too weak and I can’t stand how people easily reject those who might be wanting to help them? And I had even  planned on taking doctorate on public policy. Stupid.

That manong/lone owner of that big house disoriented work to be done today and more importantly makes me want to change my course. But manong tricycle driver is making so much effort – going as far as making me sit and stay in the tricycle while he explores eskinitas  that might hide the houses I am looking for.

Well that kindness definitely cannot be paid by money. But I am wondering, how much do I have to pay him?


3 Responses to “It’s half past ten, I’m a little drunk but I don’t think I need anyone now”

  1. 1 eriyaj


    Si Kuyang nangrereject. Parang minor subject. FEELING MAJOR.

    • Parang minor subject. Na pwedeng kelangang kelangan mo.

      O parang counselor.. na niyurakan ang pagkatao mo. Haha

      • 3 eriyaj

        Para siyang GE na required. Tas ang hirap i-pasa.

        Hahaha. Panalo yung counselor. =))

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