The meeting with Marla, my boss, was a two long hours of wasted time. I could not figure out whether she was trying to persuade us to believe in her new project or she was just acting stupid.

My officemates were convinced. I was not. I could not sympathize with her nor I could understand why she would want us to sell a dinner-for-a-cause ticket when I know for a fact that life is difficult for most of us.

I mean, the working class is struggling to live a decent life and eating P300-worth of dinner when you can pay for something like P55, plus overflowing rice, will no way boost little efforts to feel that one is actually living a decent life.

What she was asking was for us to do an act of insanity.

But I was almost two hours late so I had to pretend that I was so engrossed and interested with her presentation. But I swear I am not selling nor buying her tickets.

How can one decent person ever swallow an expensive dinner, guised as something to benefit homeless children, when he himself is basically homeless.

Besides, what will it make me if I will shell out P300 for that dinner? Feel a little more decent? And I guess it will never bring any sustainable good to the beneficiaries but instead it will only make them feel more miserable than thankful to me for, well yeah, helping them--feeding them for maybe two days. It will not make them feel better persons. It will just drain out their esteem, if there is anything more left to them.

I could not wait to get out of the conference room. Many things preoccupied my head while Marla was blabbering. Athan had asked me to do his religion reaction paper. I could not turn him down. It was like paying him back for the job well done last night. But, on the other hand, I still have some unfinished stories for Marla to check.

Well, the stories for Marla can wait so I decided to work on Athan’s paper but 30 minutes went by and I am still staring at this white screen. No single word written.

Perhaps it is because of the subject. Religion? It’s just so like math to me. Perhaps I can write if I will start with how sick priests and bishops abuse beautiful altar boys. Or, how bishops were gagged by the millions of pesos offered by the government. Perhaps I can write if I will start with nuns running expensive hospitals and how they allow their poor patients to rot and die for obvious reasons that they’re poor.

But Athan’s instruction was clear: the professor will suspect that it's not mine. No bashing, please.

He asked me that as if not aware that he was actually asking me stop breathing.