My Traffic Life

I am Mae German. 34 years old. Born in Mangatarem, province of Pangasinan. I was taught and trained by Juan Dela Cruz, and I am currently being trained for more by Uncle Sam. Writing since the age of 12. Blogging since 2001. I keep a notebook and a pen in my bag, on my bedside table, and inside the bathroom. Misses a lot. Sometimes even my own voice. Loves to laugh. Sometimes even at myself. I am a work in progress. My ultimate dream is to be a SAHM. That is, if I am bound to have that chance in this lifetime... and I am.

My Traffic Rules

Don't take my words personally. At times, not even literally. This is my journal. You're my reader. My spectator. Applaud. Yawp. Yawn. Smile. Frown. Rave. Rant. Or not. Neither can I see you from where I am standing nor can I hear you.

This is not my life. Maybe just a part of it. But this is me meandering through life. My emotions fluctuate. My opinion varies. If it's too hot in here and you can't take it, leave. If it's dull and too cold, go somewhere else for warmth. I won't wipe the frown on your brow.

My stories, unless stated otherwise, are mostly fictional. Fiction could be based on reality. Still, they are fiction. Don't own it. Don't live in it. It is what it is. Leave it.

Watch out for the traffic light. Follow the rules. Cruise.

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My Philippine passport will expire in August 2010 so I decided to renew it while I still have ample of time on weekdays. I will be starting my full-time job on August 23 and the only day that I will be free is on Saturdays. Sundays, I will still be working as a veterinary technician in an animal hospital-- I am really glad that I have kept this job and the facility has kept me (yesterday, I spent the rest of my time with a huge pit bull named, Ace). Seldom that we get paid into doing something that we love doing, right?

On Thursday, I went to the Consulate General of the Philippines in Fifth Ave., in NYC. I started at 11am and was done at 3pm. For the first-timers like me, here's the procedure:

Get a form from the white guy receptionist who speaks Tagalog more fluently than some full-blooded Filipino that I know. They're all nice out there. If you don't have your photo yet, they're going to give you a direction where to have your photo taken. It's only on the side street of their building (46th Ave.). The photographers are even nicer. They put some tissue behind my ears so my ears could be seen in the photo (it's required that your ears are seen).
Fill-out the form, go to the 3rd floor.
Get your number.
Have your passport photocopied (make sure you have enough quarters).
Wait for your number to be called.
Pay at the cashier ($60).
Go to the basement and wait for your number to be called again.
They will have to scan your documents and get your thumb prints, and take another photo of you (we couldn't get the tissue-trick for my ears so we had a hard time on this one, but better be patient than be rejected).
Say goodbye to all your "kababayans" who are still waiting for their turn.

Office is open from 9am until 4pm. I was sure that I didn't have to wait or stay that long there if I was there at 9am. I had to have my lunch at the nearby Dunkin' Donut at 12:30pm only because the basement resumes their processing at 1:30pm.

Waiting for me was never a problem. The others spent their time complaining and chatting about the teleseryes that they're watching in TFC, or talking about some topics on vanity like what weight loss product they're using. I spent my time the usual way I do-- reading and writing, and listening to some of their side-comments like: "next time, I'll bring some food and drinks here to be sold" when eating and drinking are not allowed inside the facility; or hear some jokes like "next time I'll bring some BINGO cards or playing cards so we can play tong-its while waiting." Ahh... we have a unique sense of humor, indeed.

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