Time check: 3:45 am.
I think that this day will be long for me for I woke up very early, again — a disturbed body clock. Got a list of before-office-hours errands to do although I spent the night reading Miriam Defensor Santiago’s book “Stupid is Forever” until 12 in the midnight. This overwhelmed mind of mine (with her witty jokes which I wasn’t able to recover yet), and ‘these’ errands I think were responsible for me waking up this very early.
I took my bath (the water was very cold though), got dressed, and fixed myself for the day. My early Dora (no tricycles around) route was to the Philippine Statistics Authority or formally known as the National Statistics Office. It is a front line agency of the government where it houses all the data collected in primary and secondary forms. It is where you get your authenticated birth certificates, certificate of no marriage (Cenomar) and others. Yeah, I was tasked to get many multiple copies of birth certificates and a marriage certificate. It was a perk of being located on the seat of regional government and metropolitan in Caraga and I’m more accessible. :3
It’s 5 o’clock and I’m almost there… reaching a crowd in front of the office. I thought I was the first one. For you to be catered first, you should secure a line and a priority number for processing at 7:00 am on wards (the start of their office hour, but normally it is 8:00 am in others), and the numbers are given a quarter before 7:00 am. I can’t imagine how these public servants are devoted and used to the 7:00 am opening of the office serving the clienteles. Some personal and family activities that maybe done at those times are compromised. I conclude an immunity to the routine and devotion with the heart of public service to them. Dealing with SOOO many clienteles per day equates to hard work, strength and confidence. They blend by opening early as many pile of people fall in line more early than them, including me for today.
The line is so long and and I am irritated already to other newcomers who inserts at the middle. It boils my blood. Where is the justice for the people who exerts sweat and energy and almost gave up sleep to line this very early?! With this and the smell of the barbecue smoke soaking my shirt and making me hungry. I’m almost at my peak when the guard helped and arranged the line, thank goodness.
Most people usually do when falling in line consist of many — staring the people next to you and behind you; listening to music; playing Candy Crush and other games; retouch and being silent. However, every boring moment falling in line becomes exciting, and worth it when you talk with “sense” to strangers. Yes, it makes every piece of your waiting moment amusing and fascinating reaching to the point of meeting new friends and stranger friends. You tend to share experiences, insights about anything, argue ideas, comparing and contrasting opinions and even saying envying achievements and status in their lives. As for me, I met and talked to four women (one Meranao among them, so happy!) — common most to them are they are either widowed and/or separated. And mostly they are working abroad.
From them I laughed, amazed, envied, and informed. Basics in marriage, devastating experiences of losing a loved one (one who had her husband slain and killed by a relative due to jealousy while wife was out abroad and wasn’t able to come home even on burial — case ongoing), tips when in abroad, its benefits and loses, places and their advice for me. I was opened from a point of view from these strong women on how tough and lovely life may be. We were among the noisiest groups gathered around in a sea of crowds getting more and more every time. Sadly upon falling our line to window 6 to get the issued documents, one by one we departed our ways.
I know I will never be the same again. The stories we shared took a glimpse from each lives living every single day. I may not get their names though, but I know our eyes would sparkle and our heads will nod, when seeing again these strangely familiar faces across the street, from that one ordinary tiring and talkative morning that we shared, if God willing.
Sometimes the strangest of people will tell the most amazing stories. 
