Wrong tracks

It's been a while since I wrote something here so I might as well remove the cobwebs here.

Saturday night.

For us students who study from Tuesday to Saturday at 12-5pm at a daily basis, Saturday is like paradise morphed into 24 hours.

For me personally, I love Saturdays.

The night is always young.

There's so much life during the wee hours.

Boredom is not a problem.

Only problem is, once you wake up the next day at someone's bed naked, then you're pretty much screwed my friend.

For me, I rather waste my Saturday night reading a book I never haven't even started.

Or maybe stimulate my mind by researching some cool facts.

But of course, There is always an 80% chance that I'll screw this night by wasting my time on nonsense.

Nonsense in a way that does not involve any liquors or sexual pleasures.

Alright, my classes today ended at 4:30 pm. If I'm correct, that class was computer.

Oh how I adore to send that professor 30 thousand miles away from my life.

Anyway, I chose to slack some time off before I go home by wasting it in a comp. shop.

Some hypocrite educators protested that slacking on this areas causes stupidity in the nation, I beg to differ.

They'll never know the fun of slacking time with friends. Sure beats studying any day.

Also, what I believe that the cause of stupidity in the nation is the incompetence of some hypocrite educators believing in their lies. That's just my opinion anyway.

Back to topic.

After spending 2 hours there, I bid my farewell and went on my way home.

The walk to the station was specially tranquil in an unexplainable sense.

Something mean't to be felt and not be given thought.

The LRT was cramped as always specially because it's a Saturday night.

After about 15 minutes of journeying through 8 stations, I rode off the LRT and proceeded to the Jeepney station.

I hated this part of my trip the most because everyone looked lifeless.

Everyone was sleeping while some just gave a blank stare into an endless panoramic view.

When I look to the left, someone is using my shoulder as a pillow.

To the right, a woman that always stares at me when I look to my right.

On my front, a bunch of people that can be mistaken for dead corpses.

While trying to manage the scene around, I myself just dozed off.

When we finally reached the nearest S.M. at our house, I climbed down and rode a trike to my final destination. Home not so sweet home.

Opening the gate, a scent started to tingle my senses.

Me being tired, I ignored on discovering what could that be.

While eating a quick dinner, someone asked me if I smoked a cigarette. I answered with the truth which was a no.

Another question came. She asked why did I smell like one. Of course I didn't know myself.

Combining stress, hunger, and irritation, I said that maybe she was smelling herself.

I thought that maybe she got the message to just shut up for now. Oh how wrong was I.

Last question, she asked if I was from a computer shop. Finally, I gave a loud answer.

"Yes, why?".

Apparently, she didn't liked my tone and started on her irritating speech.

Those same words, same phrases, same sentences. I wanted to slam the plate at the wall.

Or maybe slam the laptop in her face.

Instead, I just took out the earphones in my Polo's pocket and wore them on my ears while listening to loudest song I can listen to.

About maybe 3-4 minutes, she started to leave the room, finally giving me some peace.

Since then, my Saturday night has been pretty quiet and so far I'm really enjoying it.

Up to now, I wonder where did the cigar scent came from.

Was it from the girl on my left that always used my shoulder as a god damn pillow?

Was it the woman at my right who always stared at me like I was some kind of cuisine?

Did I subconsciously smoked a cigar on the way home?

Or maybe the scent just popped out from me reflecting my mood?

Oh well. This trivial questions will keep me intrigued for the hours ahead.