It’s always good to immediately own up to a bad day. Upon the first signs of a bad day—like, for example, waking up in a puddle of drool only to discover that you have less than thirty minutes to wash and dress and eat breakfast because missing your 8:30 class is currently tantamount to suicide by way of sledgehammer—you have to own up to it immediately. If you don’t, the badness of the day will only be compounded by the shattering of your illusions and the invalidation of your expectations. Once you’ve owned up to it, acknowledged to yourself that today is going to be a bad day, you can just cruise. You can easily accept grievous things like realizing that your rushing to class (an apparently important one, too, as it was about stuff not in your textbook) was made insignificant by the loss of your powers of receptivity to the much stronger powers of obfuscation of frequent yawning. Or like realizing mid-lecture that the clothes you managed to pick up in your mad rush are the sweatshirt you’ve been planning on washing since last week and the jeans you were wearing the day before (you deserve a pat on the back, though, for successfully coming up with clean underwear). Or like realizing that you should’ve taken the nonexistent time to put on your sneakers because rain here isn’t like Manila-rain in which you’re better off wearing tsinelas so you can easily wash off rain-bulate and what-not. No. Rain here is cold, and your toes turn blue.
But you know it’s a bad day, and you expect things like this. No biggie.
The best thing to do on a bad day is sleep. So right after your one class, you trudge back to your apartment and crawl back into bed. But, it’s a bad day. Even though the day was shortened since you managed to temporarily cheat the fates by hiding out for a couple of hours, you should realize that while you were sleeping, the bad day will still manage to sprinkle all sorts of bad vibes and black magic on your small, petty universe. When you wake up a few hours later, the first thing that comes to mind is that you forgot that you promised to meet a friend for lunch. And the weather is bad. You just made your friend wait out in the cold, cruel rain for x amount of time. You realize you are a bad friend. And your cellphone is useless because your apartment has no signal. Sweet. You limp to your landline because you were sleeping in an awkward position, and call your friend. She sounds as cold as the rain. You apologize profusely. But it’s too late. You’re hungry and she’s somewhere far away and you have no food in the house. You have to eat alone.
Your mother called, you haven’t called her back yet. She’s left 3 messages on your answering machine. She’s starting to sound pissed.
You head over to the library with your laptop because your apartment is depressing. You stop somewhere for pizza. It’s raining. You proceed to the library and start working on your English paper. It’s ridiculous. You can hardly care about Yeats and Keats and the women who broke their hearts. You go out for a cigarette and run into the fat guy who’s always bothering you with stories about his pregnant cousin. He comes up with another story about his mother; a story which ends with something about his pregnant cousin. You start to hate yourself because you just don’t care about his sad family. You have a sad life, why should you care about his sad family? You finish your cigarette pretty quickly, with long, drawn-out sucks and agitated puffs. You say goodbye and go back into the library, hoping he won’t follow you. You start to feel sorry for yourself because you don’t like the people you hang out with.
It’s a bad day, suck it up. Just get through it so you can go back to bed.
Ah, bed.
But you know it’s a bad day, and you expect things like this. No biggie.
The best thing to do on a bad day is sleep. So right after your one class, you trudge back to your apartment and crawl back into bed. But, it’s a bad day. Even though the day was shortened since you managed to temporarily cheat the fates by hiding out for a couple of hours, you should realize that while you were sleeping, the bad day will still manage to sprinkle all sorts of bad vibes and black magic on your small, petty universe. When you wake up a few hours later, the first thing that comes to mind is that you forgot that you promised to meet a friend for lunch. And the weather is bad. You just made your friend wait out in the cold, cruel rain for x amount of time. You realize you are a bad friend. And your cellphone is useless because your apartment has no signal. Sweet. You limp to your landline because you were sleeping in an awkward position, and call your friend. She sounds as cold as the rain. You apologize profusely. But it’s too late. You’re hungry and she’s somewhere far away and you have no food in the house. You have to eat alone.
Your mother called, you haven’t called her back yet. She’s left 3 messages on your answering machine. She’s starting to sound pissed.
You head over to the library with your laptop because your apartment is depressing. You stop somewhere for pizza. It’s raining. You proceed to the library and start working on your English paper. It’s ridiculous. You can hardly care about Yeats and Keats and the women who broke their hearts. You go out for a cigarette and run into the fat guy who’s always bothering you with stories about his pregnant cousin. He comes up with another story about his mother; a story which ends with something about his pregnant cousin. You start to hate yourself because you just don’t care about his sad family. You have a sad life, why should you care about his sad family? You finish your cigarette pretty quickly, with long, drawn-out sucks and agitated puffs. You say goodbye and go back into the library, hoping he won’t follow you. You start to feel sorry for yourself because you don’t like the people you hang out with.
It’s a bad day, suck it up. Just get through it so you can go back to bed.
Ah, bed.
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