SONA

It's so weird. I'm writing about the SONA again. But this time I'm like breath to breath with the people who are actually raising their banners against the infamous woman. No, I am not rallying against or for her, it's just that I have to walk through the throng of blue men (I heard they call them cops) just to get to work; the Convergys building is right smack in the middle of Commonwealth Avenue --- did I say that I love this job?
I do not like the fact that those policemen didn't seem to have taken a bath. I do not like the way they block the parking spaces. And ultimately, I do not like the fact that they're blocking even the sidewalks. They crowded Mini-Stop, Starbucks, even Pancake House. They were practically everywhere! I can barely imagine the traffic later, God bless our ozone layer.
So, here I am, ranting about the way the SONA is being handled, without my morning latte, Pan de Palaman or pancakes. And that is just great.
Come to think of it, why does the woman have to do the SONA anyway? Year after year after year she says the same things but no one really believes her. She just ends up getting sketched up on tomorrow's editorial cartoon with a tongue-in-cheek report that what she said might be true.
What I do know is that come payday on the 30th, I will still pay taxes (huge ones, too) and come next month the roads are still cracked, kids will still beg for coins at Quiapo, brothers will still kill each other for money, mothers will still throw their babies out of taxi cabs, all in the spirit of national financial depression.