The Interview

I braved the strong winds yesterday. In fact, I was more than tough to cycle my way to the said institution. I really didn't mind when I was told that the place is located far remotely and a car should get me there . What I had in hand was a single paper indicating how many stoplights before I should yaw to a roadway that would direct me to the marked address. I thought three road signals weren't that far. So I canceled the idea of going there by a cab from the train station approximately a distance from my apartment. I asked Kuya if I could borrow the keys and mounted on two-wire-spoked wheels.

At first I didn't notice I was pedaling alongside heavy vehicles and trailers transporting bulk goods to and fro the Chubu and Kanto regions of Japan. I was in the middle of an expressway (one of the busiest by the way high way). Wohoo, I am a certified cyclist, I gasped. I sped up my pedals more but I felt lost. How many stoplights did I encounter so far, one, two? It couldn't be just one yet. And alright, I couldn't give up to have gone this mile considerably.

I arrived after 15 minutes of in between stops and pushing. Well, not really. The winds convened their forces on me. I was just free-flowing cycling my butt and felt too easy for my legs. No sweat at all. I was revived with a new vigor and refreshed spirits matter of factly. I felt moonbeams in my eyes and curved lips upward on my face.

Came too early. Almost a quarter, I toddled to the entrance of the hall just as the office head walked in. I muttered my greetings. He lightened me up a bit with his joke. I couldn't hide my high-strung nerves, and my neurons were all wound up of the right terms to mouth. I was fretful of my retard brain at the moment. But he was impressed because I could talk? I knew I fairly managed the whole conversation. I think he was just compelled to say that, since I spoke to him in Nihonggo the most honorific way I could. It's not a problem for me to engage in a confab, he clearly commented. But he wanted to see me write texts in kanji, of which I am a no-good. I can't even read all, in truth, or can't read at all. So I tried to fill in the form with my bio in a scrawling Chinese characters. There went my poor strokes to his hand, he smiled and was a little surprised. I could write. Not really. I am only good at typing kanji in sending or replying MMS using my mobile phone. And I am very dependent to this gadget especially if I had to look over for the right text to use.

The afternoon concluded with a pat on my shoulder that caused me to blench for a second, that he quickly explained I am telling you as a father for I don't have a daughter. Why am I such a blusher? I thanked him and be permitted to leave the room.

Stormy heavens, you've blessed me.