Give Us This Day Our Daily Whine

Restless fashionista daughter whines almost daily that she wakes up with nada ahead of her.

Her Tatay says he wakes up every morning grateful that he can still see, this after a cataract operation and six- hour working days, much of them spent in front of the computer cleaning up copy and at least two hours of his sleeping time broken so he can correct students’ papers.

I’m somewhere in between—a glorious (if sun is out) morning ahead with nothing planned save for a class in web design, and the rest of the day stretches on punctuated by nibbles of popcorn, peanuts, turrones de casuy, whatever I can graze on. Some days I paint, other days I scribble in my notebook. I don't mind doing all those things until the day I croak.

I’m tempted to tell my daughter, “Doesn’t coordinating what you’re going to put on your body and feet excite you anymore?” If she's looking for a purpose to get up, I think anything is worth it rather than the mini angst she's going through.

Then I overhear her Tatay’s colleague talk about a line from a Radioactive Sago Project song penned by Lourd Ernest de Veyra that goes something like: “Naghihirap na ang bayan, fashionista ka pa rin.”