
We’ve recently transferred to our new, insanely huge, insanely equipped, and insanely expensive hospital. I like that it’s insane, but whoa, I am not kidding when I say “huge”. It’s like one gigantic complex made up of three buildings. The hallways go on forever. And I mean FOREVER. I’ve only been inside one of the three buildings, and I haven’t even seen all the floors yet. I should’ve expected that though, since the whole place is located in GC, about 3 cities away from where I live. The way I see it, a block in GC would be equal to 2 or 3 “normal” blocks.
Anyway, I’ve been taking the MRT to GC for the past week. Commuting to GC isn’t much of a problem (even if I lose sleep waking up veeery early to beat the morning crowd), it’s getting home that drives me crazy! You can’t help but want to kill. Riding the train from Ayala/Guadalupe to Cubao during the rush hour is like going to war. The MRT’s a battlefield. Or a trash compactor. You’d feel way more comfortable in a sardines can.
I don’t think I can take commuting to GC once we start on shifting schedules, so I spent about two months looking for a nearer place to rent. I was lucky enough to find a room (at one of my friends’ house, oh yeah). I love that her unit’s number is 133, same as the number of my house. I’m moving out next weekend so I guess I have to start packing as early as now.
Bye bye family and San Juan. I’ll be home on weekends maybe. I hope I don’t get separation anxiety.




