*image credits: Sam Brown-www.explodingdog.com It took my body 9 months and 10 days before it gave up being valiant and succumbed to its ever-burning desire to rest. For the first time in so many years, I fell ill.
The doctor said my inflamed tonsils were the culprit. The infections reached as far as the back part of my throat which made swallowing a mundane task. They were also the cause of my recurring fever. I, on the other hand, believe otherwise. If there's anything to be blamed, it's my job.
I've never been sickly. I'm never one to catch the flu so easily, not even a case of sore eyes. The last time I had to be absent from anything was because of chicken pox and that was back when I was in second grade. I experience the usual cough and colds but they were never anything that kept me incapacitated for so long.
For the past several months, it has just been my strong will that has kept me going, even through a lot of changes at work --- resignation of esteemed colleagues, increasing work load, change in supervisors and loss of accounts. Now that my spirit is flagging, it seems that my body has reached its limit and sympathized with my lack of enthusiasm for my state of employment.
I used to think that I should accomplish the most that I can every day, which often led to overtime work (no pay, just translated to compensating leaves which I can never find time to avail). I used to go to work a little more early than I do these days. I used to think of additional load as extra challenge. I used to feel well-accomplished after a day's work. I used to love my job.
A saying in the office goes “They won’t give it to you if they know you can’t do it.” When I was new, I just smiled and said nothing. A year later, when I got so mad regarding an office matter and it was jokingly said to me, I shot back, ”I know I can do it but they don’t have to give all the work to me!”
I guess it’s partly my fault that I let them think I can manage everything. But I know I have only myself to blame for putting up with such a crappy situation, opting to stay a little longer, even when I knew deep inside that the system and the people would not change.
I’m tired. I’m sick. I’m frustrated. I’m so sick of this entire set-up. It’s about time for a change.
The jeepney is my favorite mode of public transportation. Forget the fact that you'll be ingesting more than your average share of CO2 emissions. Forget the fact that in the middle of the day & heavy traffic, it's so sweltering hot inside that you can't help but make a slight shudder as your bare shoulder inevitably comes in contact with your seatmate's sweat-drenched shirt. Riding the jeepney is a lot like going to the movies. You are the spectator and the movie is real life as it happens before your eyes.
Yesterday, I got slapped for no reason at all. It was a classic drama scene- no words were said and the slighted one who had no chance to retaliate seethed with a controlled temper. What happened was this: I was in a contemplative mood then, looking out of the jeep's window when I suddenly felt the sting of a dozen whip lashes across my face. In an effort to stop the hair from billowing not only in the wind but on my face, I called my antagonist's attention. This made her whirl around to face me, hair and all, sending one semi-solid slap to my already stinging face. A lot of things are shared in the jeepney-- music, reading materials, conversations, smiles, text messages, glances and sneezes. It doesn't take a lot to get to know the person beside you, especially if you're stuck in traffic (classic first line: "Hay, ang traffic naman.." which is not directed to anyone but more or less warrants a response), lost and need directions (in this case, after providing help, the person you've talked to goes "Bakit, anong gagawin mo dun?") or if it's the aftermath of a snatching incident (wherein everyone becomes fast friends- the first person to talk usually starts with, "Grabe, kanina...").
I'm still trying to decide which is better, to have a really cute person sit across you or beside you. In the first case, you can surreptitiously watch him from under hooded eyes and there's the opportunity of making it possible for him to check you out. In the latter case however, you are given the privilege of strategically throwing yourself against him when jeep makes sudden stops (which can be qute often). Then, you get to catch his eye and deliver your best and cutest sheepish smile which you hope will win him over. Sorry to disappoint the reader but this particular scenario is just based on personal observation and hyperactive imagination and not on personal experience or flirting style.. Well, if you're lucky enough, the cute guy just might smell good and this, along with the nice feeling of having his shoulder brush yours from time to time can make travel time shorter than expected.
When I'm not too much in a hurry, I make it a point to ride the jeep. I find myself enjoying the whole experience-- even if it just means evaluating people's shoes and clothes when bored, drowning out conversations that you don't want to listen to but understand nevertheless and watching sleepy people borrow their seatmate's shoulder without permission. I don't mind if I'm not in an airconditioned fx. It doesn't matter if the jeep makes a lot of stops even when the targeted passengers do not need a ride. All I know is that there are countless interesting details and situations that can be experienced in a loaded jeepney and that things will never be the same if this mode of transportation will be phased out.
* Qualifies for an entry in an on-the-spot farewell letter writing competition (8/17/06). hahaha Written for one of my best buds in the office. You can stop smirking now.
Paano nga ba magpaalam sa taong ayaw mo paalisin?
Sa dalas nating magbigay ng bati ng pakikipaghiwalay, di natin napapansin na may iba't-ibang klase ang pamamaalam.
1. Goodbye- para sa isang madamdaming pakikipag-break 2. Bye Bye- para sa nagliligawan, may kasama pang "Ibaba mo na.." "Ayoko nga, ikaw muna.." 3. Byerz- ang text ng pa-cute na jologz 4. Ba-hay! - ang bye na may bwelo 5. Boboy- ang pigil-luhang babay 6. Bubuy- ang pamamaalam na may kasamang luha at pamimiyak ng boses 7. Paalam- ang pinakamataas na antas. Mi ultimo adios. Final na final.
Sa dami ng pwedeng maging sagot sa katanungan sa itaas, wala akong gustong piliin kasi hindi ako naniniwalang kailangan magpaalam sa taong pwede mo naman makita muli. Maaaring sa susunod na linggo, may magkakamaling pipindot ng 186 na local pero wala nang sasagot sa kanya ng "Manunulat!" Mababawasan na ng tagasalong trabaho sa editorial. Hindi na sasama sa korus ng mga nagsisitunugang speakersang mga kantang alternative at rakenrol na madalas mong pinatutugtog.
Hindi ko alam kung gaano katagal bago kami masanay na wala ka na talaga sa opisina. Basta ang alam ko, sensitibo ngayon ang ilong ni Kay Abad dahil nasasagap na nya ang amoy ng vacancy galing sa upuan mo. (kay, please explain.. hahaha) Maaaring di ka na namin makita sa susunod na linggo pero hindi ka namin malilimutan. Salamat sa lahat Emir. Mami-miss ka namin. =)
Here's a filler-- while I'm still struggling between balancing my time and coaxing words from my muddled brain to form into intelligible ideas. Written on April 5, 2004 by a whimsical, two years younger version of my present self. Writer still on indefinite leave...
I have set up sails to travel in a sea of loneliness, where a million others find themselves lost in. It should have been easy enough for me to find somebody to share my boat with or somebody who would be willing to leave his boat for mine—or better yet, somebody whom I would leave my boat for, but it seems that the big body of water is vast enough to hold a lot of people without most of them finding what they have set out searching for.
I possess no big ship, nor any luxury yacht. All I have is a regular wooden boat with blue sails, in which to go about in. I have always dreamt of owning a steam liner with a spacious sundeck, a Jacuzzi, a gym, elegant rooms and an Olympic-sized pool. However, as of the moment, I could only afford a new set of sails to replace the ones battered by storms of indecision & anxiety and the howling winds of frustration & despair. With this, I find that while dreaming may offer any person a welcome break from reality, it is always safer to stay anchored to the present and make do with whatever is available so that one can chart one’s course in the direction that one wishes to go to.
The countless people who have set out to sea should have made it easy for me to find somebody to share my boat with. I should have been able to find from among those people who have sunk their boats as a challenge to solitude someone who is willing enough to work hard with me towards a safe journey to the nearest harbor.
It should not have been hard for me to find somebody who would leave his boat for mine- a person who finds my company better than the comfort of being alone with his thoughts and someone who has no problem with the meager resources that I have with me, but unfortunately, it seems that all sought things have a way of staying unavailable to those who keep on looking for them.
With the mindless games that we play and the deliberate lies that we often make, more & more people are forced to go on journeys that have no certain end. Yet, I still have not found the person whom I would leave my boat for. He would have to be somebody who can make me laugh, even when I run the risk of exceeding the limits of flexibility that my sun-burnt face can only withstand, somebody who can make me feel like it is summer, even if the cold breeze tells me that it is nearing Christmastime and somebody who would willingly do “whale water-spouting”, “seal-clapping” & “dolphin-giggling” with me just for fun. Best of all, he would have to be someone who is honest enough to admit that he doesn’t know how to fish and humble enough to accept that I’m a better fisherperson than he is.
The water is calm and it gently rocks my boat from side to side. While a slight breeze blows through my hair, I kneel by the side of my boat, leaning towards the edge in order to take a mouthful of the clear water, which stretches across the horizon in a transparent white color.As the cool water reaches my lips, I watch as it gradually seeps through my cupped palms, until every droplet joins the big body of water, which the sorrows of this world make deeper. It tastes faintly like salt, of broken promises & forsaken dreams, of bottled misery and unspoken affections. I have tried countless times to stop drinking water from the sea & too many times, I have caught myself taking a sip, foolishly hoping that the passage of time might make it sweeter.The view from my boat never varies. Everyday, it’s the same wide expanse of sky and water that I see- sky that has been for the most part, gray & downcast and water that has always been white & shimmering.
Maybe someday, I will meet a person who will color the water a bright shade of blue. Maybe he can put a smile on the sun and make my boat dance happily with the waves. Maybe, he can even persuade me to drop my favorite book into the sea in exchange for a day’s worth of conversation. Maybe I can assist him in repairing his boat or maybe I can teach him how to fish and help him laugh again. There are things in this world that cannot be done or endured alone and living is one of them. Someday, a cry will be heard out in the open sea. It will go, “Man Overboard!” and only the future can determine if it is he who has thrown himself into the water or I, so one can save the other.
I may have primarily set out on my journey with no certain purpose, no specific destination & no intention of returning to where I came from, but when the time comes when I have already found good company, I know in my heart that it is time to come home.
I've been told I'm beautiful a lot of times already. This should have been a major boost to my ego and contributed significantly to my reservoir of arrogance but the compliment fails to impress me. For whenever people refer to my aesthetic qualities, I'm not just beautiful. In fact, I don't recall ever being called pretty. I belong to a specific breed of beauty. Black Beauty. Thanks.
Just last week, I was at Photoline to claim prints. The woman standing beside me said, "Excuse me. " As a reflex, my head automatically turned to the source of voice. The woman was giving me an assessing look that went up my figure, down, and up again to my face. She asked me outright, "Nagmo-model ka ba?" Come on. I felt like neighing with supressed laughter. My smile was sheepish as I answered "Umm, hindi eh." She took out a piece of paper which served as her business card and told me, " Naghahanap ako ng models na tulad mong may ganyang kulay. May pictures ka ba? (referring to a model's portfolio)" I answered no and she said conversationally, "Dito kasi 'ko nagpapa-develop ng pictures ng talents ko. Malapit lang office namin dito. Andiyan naman number ko.." To which I replied a hesitant and flustered, "Ah, okay. Thanks!"
Not that I totally mind being labelled as a black beauty. I never had the illusion that I'm particularly good-looking so it is kind of flattering. After all, beauty is still beauty, even if it comes in a darker package. I just have to credit the people who think I'm attractive with a temporary lack of sanity.
I don't give any weight to positive comments about my annual yearbook picture either. We all know everybody's supposed to look good there. In fact it's almost every graduate's dream to make up for a 20-year track record of looking bad in front of the camera. I can think of several cases. Bad hair day. Worst possible angle shot, like a full face frontal when your cheeks are looking at its chubbiest best and your T-zone is having another of its shining moments. Fat lips day. Exam week. All documented, when all you wanted was to shy away from the camera.
The reason I have never warmed up to the idea that I have the potential of beauty is that my looks get me into odd situations. There's the unwanted flirting from taxi & jeepney drivers, total strangers getting all friendly with me, unexpected comments from parloristas, amorous foreigners and impassioned greetings from idiots on foot or in passing vehicles. I just know that a striking personality couldn't have been the reason why these people were drawn towards me. I shared nothing more than perfunctory yes, nos and polite replies to the conversational masterpieces dealt out by those who dared to talk to me so I figured it must be my features which did them in.
It's not too bad being morena. At least I can boast of a summer skin tone all year round. The only problem is, this fact doesn't make me unique at all in this country where a great majority of the people have a tanned complexion. Now, if only I can find a way to transport myself to a frigid country where I can be called a more stylish term for black beauty-- a tropical beauty...
We've always had Time to blame for our own failures. There just wasn't enough time.. We were going too fast.. I thought it was still early.. He didn't tell me soon enough.. There are a dozen variations, all aimed towards absolving one's self from direct blame.
I've always found it convenient to get frustrated with Time, especially when I have to deal with ultimate boredom. These are the moments when every second has an indefinite end and you realize with wry amusement that the dirt on your walls actually follows certain patterns. And getting accustomed to boredom doesn't help any. It's all the more worse because not only are you aware of your life's monotony; you are also, in a sense doing nothing to remedy the tediousness of the situation you are in. What's even more alarming is when you're already used to boredom, you won't find any novelty even in doing something new. By that time, it's not a case of situational boredom anymore. You have already started wearing boredom as a fashionable cape, very much like the way the nouveau rich put on bored airs. I've recently resorted to watching movies- Deuce Bigalow European Gigolo, 40-year old Virgin, Must Love Dogs, Perfect Catch, Totally Blonde. I must have been Video City's most profitable customer last week. I could tell—must be through the palpable look of recognition the video store staff gave me, the escalating level of eagerness to serve me each time I made a visit to the store or the fact that I was already being offered the promo of rent 4 for P55. But, even more pathetic than immersing myself in different dimensions of man-made reality was: I watched a movie at a mall cinema unaccompanied. Alone. Man, I was that bored. I went to Makati for yet another job interview and came back unemployed and hopeless still. The location of the office was so far away I must have walked several kilometers to get there (and get out of there) and the job, well, let’s just say I was overqualified for the available position. And so it was that I eventually found myself buying a movie ticket to watch She’s The Man. It was amusing enough to keep me preoccupied for a few hours before I had to get back to the rigid confines of the house I’m living in.
It was also last week when I had a call for an interview in Ortigas. I spent Friday in the prospective employee hot seat for 3 & ½ hours, answering never ending questions about myself, my work habits, why I quit my first job, what are my redeeming qualities and how do I handle bitchy people. After 6 interviews, I suddenly found myself hired. Wow, when they said that there was an urgent need for someone to fill the position, I never imagined they were dead serious about it.
At one time or another, we’ve all probably wished we had some control over Time. I wished Time wouldn’t go by so fast when I’m having fun. I wished Time would stand still so I can preserve certain moments that I’m sure I’m likely to forget, memorable or significant they may be. I wished Time can skip to the part where the difficult portion is already over so I won’t have to bear all the anxiety, depression, frustration or nervousness that come with seemingly impossible situations. I wished Time can go back to certain happy days or to that disastrous day when I could’ve done things differently. But unfortunately, we cannot manipulate Time. It has its own way of planning its course. After a little over five months of trying to kill Time, I find that I am going to miss being bored. I’ve had a long wait for this job but when I finally have to start working again, it just seemed that the 5 months of indefinite existence were too short. But the timing for getting the job was perfect. I needed the money and the work experience. For once, Time was just right. No stalling, no hurrying, no delaying, no rushing. It's about time...
My driving lessons officially ended Thursday last week. Unfortunately, I doubt if I have learned more than any self-taught individual.. I should've been more discriminating in my choice for a driving school because apparently, cost should not have been the primary consideration. After 14 hours of lessons, I still have no idea of the techniques used in parking a car-- and this is not because I have a problem with information retention. It's simply because I just wasn't taught how to park. ^_^ However, I do know how to drive by now and that is what's more important. At least, I didn't have to take the lesson from my dad..
Top 5 learnings from driving: 1) Imaginary Brake Pedal- ever since I've learned how to drive, I've automatically adopted this habit of lesson recalls- particularly the one involving the use of brakes. Whenever the vehicle I'm riding comes to a close crash encounter with another vehicle, my right foot presses hard on the floor as a reflex. I have caught myself doing this three times already, much to my chagrin. 2) Pedestrian Trouble- i've always found the prospect of crossing busy streets very appealing due to the element of thrill that is associated with it. When you're the driver though, it can be very annoying to come across pedestrians with my sense of adventure--or what others may call blissful ignorance. The most irritating habit perhaps among pedestrians is crossing the street the cha-cha way. This is where the pedestrian can't seem to decide if he's going to cross or not. He takes a step forward, backs up but nevertheless crosses anyway at the most crucial moment when the car's proximity is nearly a meter away. Superb. 3) Driving Shoes- yes, I’ve discovered that there are shoes that are suitable for driving. I tried using rubber-soled sneakers once and that one-hour session made me the most difficult student to be taught. The car I was driving went chugging along like a train half the time that I had to make the car start moving again. Now, I understand why a friend of mine likes to drive barefooted. 4) Boyfriend- it never hurts to lie once in a while, especially when you're not particularly comfortable with unsolicited attention. I suddenly found myself in a pseudo-relationship for safety purposes. More often than not, driving instructors are male. And if you are as unlucky as I am, you'll get to have three instructors during the whole course of your driving lessons-- all male, single and ready to flirt with you at the drop of a hat. The situation was not too flattering, let me tell you.. =P 5) Level of Expertise- best way to determine if you're getting good at driving is to check if your instructor is alert and wide awake. Those things would indicate that it's still not safe for you to be driving alone. Fortunately for the instructor who handled three out of the last four hours of my driving lessons, I was a quick learner.. hahaha
It took my body 9 months and 10 days before it gave up being valiant and succumbed to its ever-burning desire to rest. For the first time in so many years, I fell ill.
It took my body 9 months and 10 days before it gave up being valiant and succumbed to its ever-burning desire to rest. For the first time in so many years, I fell ill.
