Every weekday, I commute to work.
A bus ride, a train ride, and a jeepney ride all in one way.
I don’t usually drive on weekdays. Not because I can’t, but because I refuse to wrestle with the horrors of EDSA traffic. (If you know, you know.)
On average, it takes me two hours just to get to work. Another two to get home.
That’s four hours a day on the road.
Four hours that could have been spent on something productive.
But can it, really?
At first, I tried to make the most of it. I read books. Listened to podcasts. Wrote down random ideas.
Sometimes, I’d plan projects while standing shoulder to shoulder with strangers on the train.
Other times, I just stared out the window and let my thoughts breathe. Watched the city move. Watched people rush. Watched life happen.
And maybe that’s productive too.
Not everything has to be a hustle. Some days, being still is also work. Some days, letting your mind wander helps you find your focus again.
The commute will always be long, but time spent thinking is never wasted.
We deserve better, but we cannot always be complaining.
Because if you use those hours to slow down, reflect, or simply exist, then you’re still going somewhere.