Monday, September 28, 2009
I went to the Journal Office yesterday to check if the record of last week’s proceedings have already been approved for release. On my way there, I saw the ugly sick pig going my direction. Apparently he also had some business with the Journal people, and it was just my luck, finding myself in a head-on collision with him on a beautiful Monday morning. It was too late, when I was finally able to focus my eyes to see who could be the hulking guy walking to the direction of the doors, to where I was also headed. Had I known just a fraction of a second earlier, I would have made for the adjacent room, anywhere just to avoid a direct hit. But he was there already, and I was there, too. I looked directly into his eyes, consciously telling myself not to register any emotion of anger or disgust. From my view, it looks as though he also doing the same. A few steps more and both of us would be side by side, going for the door handles. I was preparing myself for the worst when suddenly, the strangest thing happened. I wasn’t mad anymore. A strange thing really, for just seconds ago, I felt an ounce of anger pump into my veins—and then no more. I let him pass first, and then I followed him inside. Curiously, eyes followed us, as though we were a spectacle to behold. When I got to Gigi’s table, and he has already turned in a corner somewhere, I felt suddenly light headed. Whew. Nonetheless, I was thankful for the whole experience; for I can safely say that I’ve officially moved on.