Recorded Soliloquies

So Sick

2008-01-12T23:00:00.000-08:00

*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.

Joy Ride

2006-09-06T01:30:00.000-07:00

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.

Tomorrow, I'm riding a jeep again.

Babay Na

2006-08-23T10:04:00.000-07:00

* 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. =)

Man Overboard!

2006-06-16T22:36:00.000-07:00

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.

Black Beauty

2006-04-15T21:05:00.000-07:00

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...

Killing Time

2006-03-22T22:04:00.000-08:00

*image courtesy of Sam Brown at explodingdog.com

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...

Drive Me Crazy

2006-03-13T17:36:00.000-08:00

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

Bummed Out

2006-03-05T19:48:00.000-08:00

** nope, i'm not suicidal. the image (gotten from explodingdog.com) matches my mood though.. hahaha

I have no problem with where I want to go. I have already set my goals & I know what I want; the only question is: when will the journey begin? Having carefully-laid plans doesn't make me any different from a person who still doesn't know what he or she wants. I'm still stuck in the same gray area, contemplating my worth in a society that frowns upon people who willingly get themselves unemployed.

The silence in the house unnerves me. The air is reverberating with unspoken accusations and ripe with veiled pity. Turning on the television is no comfort for it merely stresses the gravity of the situation, mildly making a mockery out of the fact that I don't have anything better to do than watch movie reruns, "reality" tv shows, koreanovelas & all kinds of enhancer (height, skin, abs, boobs) commercials.

I'm even being hounded by time and numbers. March 7 marks the 5th month of my resignation from my first job. Two entries ago, I said I was going to get hired by the company that was training me then. It's nearly a year since I graduated but I still find myself as inexperienced as I was the day after I received the rolled blank sheet of paper which posed as my college diploma. My friend laughed at me this morning because I thought she was still a college junior. "Graduating na ko no!" she said with a shove that made me almost lose my balance. I realized that I was living in a time warp. Because I considered negligible the four months of work that I got involved in (and therefore still regard myself as a fresh graduate), my sense of time never got beyond April 2005.

I want to rid myself of restlessness and the feeling of dread that is slowly consuming me. It’s stupid to complain and pathetic to whine but I know I wouldn’t be able to stop talking about my state of unemployment until I get myself hired. So in the meantime, I’m going to perfect my skill at rating tv commercials, read the books I’ve bought but still haven’t read yet and try not to get used too much to lazy afternoons while I await positive responses from my target companies.

SA UULITIN

2006-01-12T12:34:00.000-08:00

**Author's Note: Below is an attempt to resurrect my dormant writing ability.. Posted it as soon as I finished it. Any similarities to me which you can read below does not necessarily mean that the story below is true. just sharing a figment of my imagination.. ^_^ photo courtesy of Sam Brown, explodingdog.com

Ginulat mo ako sa panahong abalang-abala ako. “Break na tayo,” ang sabi mo sa’kin.
“Bakit? Pagod ka na ba?” tanong ko.
“Oo, pasensya na,” sagot mo.

Napabuntong-hininga ako.
“Sige na nga, magkape na tayo.”
Tumayo ako, sabay abot sa mug na nakapatong sa desk ko.
“Adik ka talaga,” sumbat mo sa’kin.
Natawa ako. “Saan, sa trabaho o sa kape?”
At tulad ng ilan pang mga kahapon mula nang makilala kita ang sagot mo ay isang nakakalokong ngiti. Inabutan mo ako ng isang 3-in-1 sachet ng kape. “O, libre ko sa’yo. Kanina pa kita tinitingnan mula sa puwesto ko, mukhang nalulunod ka na sa ginagawa mo.”
“Namamaga na nga yata mata ko kakabasa mula sa screen ng PC ko.” Pinikit ko nang sandali ang mga mata ko. “Tingnan mo, wala na ko sa desk ko pero may nakikita pa rin akong mga letra.”
“Kaya nga nilapitan na kita,” sabi mo habang papunta na tayo sa coffee room.
“Teka, wag kang gagalaw, may letter A sa ilong mo.”
“Loko. Kumain ka nga ng almusal para hindi ka nagha-hallucinate!”
“Nasobrahan nga yata ako ng kain..”
“Huu..pero sigurado ako, gutom ka na naman ngayon.”
“Hehehe. Ano pa nga ba?”
“Akin na nga ‘yang mug mo, lagyan ko ng mainit na tubig,” ang sabi mo sa’kin. Inabot ko ang mug ko. “Thanks. Dun tayo sa dati.”
“Mamayang merienda ka na lang kumain ulit.”
Pumikit ako nang sandali para magpahinga. Pero kahit wala akong nakikita, alam ko kung ano ang ginagawa mo. Alam kong una mo munang lalagyan ng mainit na tubig ang mug ko bago ang sa iyo. At bago mo ibalanse ang paghawak sa dalawang mug ay iche-check mo muna ang mga bulsa mo kung dala mo ang de-sachet mong kape, creamer at asukal. Sandali kang matataranta at biglaang maaalala na inabot mo na pala sa akin ang mga ‘yon kanina. Napangiti ako.
“O anong nakakatawa?” tanong mo, pagdating sa mesa. Napamulat ako.
“Wala.”
“Wala?”
“Hm. Walang katuturan. Tulad ng kaya ko na hulaan kung anong gagawin mo sa tuwing magb-break tayo.”
“Talaga?”
“Una mong bubuksan ang dalawang sachet ng asukal. Tapos kalahating sachet lang ng kape ang ilalagay mo at ibubuhos mo ang lahat ng laman ng creamer.”
“Ginagawa ko ba yun?” tanong mo, pero nagsasalita pa lang ako kanina e sinimulan mo nang buksan ang sachet ng asukal. “Hehehe. Ganon na ba tayo katagal magkasamang mag-coffeebreak at napansin mo pa ang bagay na ‘yan?”
“Bored lang siguro ‘ko,” sagot ko.
“Balita ko, may nanliligaw sa’yo ah,” bigla mong naalala. “Tsk tsk tsk. Grabe, biruin mo, araw-araw tayong nagkikita pero sa iba ko pa nalaman ‘yan.”
“Manliligaw? Praning ba sila? E kahit sino yatang lumapit sa mesa ko para humingi ng paper clip, ginagawan nila ng issue.”
“Bakit, tama naman sila kay Mr. AEIOU.” Pinipigilan mong matawa.
Bago ko pa matanong kung sino ‘yung sinasabi mo, dinugtungan mo na kaagad ng, “Ah..Aalis ka na ba? E sinong kasabay mo? I-ihahatid na kita. Okay lang ba sa’yo? Uwi na tayo nang sabay.”
“Ngek. Si Dave ba yan? Nag-offer lang yun once. Saka mahiyain talaga yun.”
“Iba ang tawag dun,” sagot mo. “Torpe.”
“Naku, nahawa ka na sa mga tao dito, chismoso ka na rin! Saka no, ayoko sa lahat yung torpe.”
“Ano bang gusto mo?” tanong mo sa’kin.
Biglang dumating ang mga tao sa department natin. Nang mapatingin sila sa direksyon natin e iisa ang kinang sa mga mata nila. Nagsikuhan pa. Mabuti pa sila alam nila ang sagot sa tanong mo, na dapat siguro e nagsimula sa salitang sino.
Nilapit ko ang upuan ko sa tabi mo para ma-warningan ka. “Kumaway ka, andiyan na sila. Congratulations, sikat na naman tayo.”
Tumawa ka, sabay taas ng kanang kamay mo bilang pagbati sa kanila. Papalapit na sila nang papalapit. At pagkaway mo ay dumiretso ang kamay mo sa balikat ko. Lumapat ang braso mo sa likod ko. Napaigtad akong bigla. Siguro dumilat nang malaki ang mga mata ko at nahalata mong nagulat ako kaya kinindatan mo ‘ko. Kung natitimpla lang ang ngiti, masasabi kong sumobra na ang asukal na nalagay mo.
Kasing-init ng braso mo ang hawak kong mug. Shet. Sa pagkakataong ‘to, hindi lang ang utak ng kaopisina natin ang pinaglalaruan mo. Mabuti na lang hindi ako madaling maloko.
Kailangan, patas ang laban.
‘Saktong pagdating nila sa mesa natin, sumiksik ako papalapit sa’yo at sinandal ang ulo ko sa balikat mo.
“WOW! Kayo na?” tanong ng isa sa kanila.
“Huli ka na sa balita. First monthsary namin ngayon,” ang sabi mo, na sinagot ko naman ng isang sipa sa’yo sa ilalim ng mesa.
“Sabi ko na nga ba. Kaya pala laging bugnutin ‘yang boyprend mo tuwing dumadaan sa desk mo si Dave," sabad naman ng isa, at ako ang kinakausap.
Tumingin ako sa direksyon mo. “Aba, seloso ka pala!” Abot tenga ang ngiti ko.
“Dati ka pa nyan gusto ligawan, ewan ko ba kung ba’t natagalan—sasagutin mo rin naman pala, nagpapahirapan pa kayong dalawa.” Nagtawanan sila.
“Torpe kasi ‘to,” sabi mo. Sino, ikaw o ako? Tatawa na ba dapat ako?
“Naalala mo ba nung sabi mo sa’kin---” ang sinimulang sabihin ng isa pa sa kanila sa’yo, na pinutol mo naman ng “Sige na, kelangan na namin ng quality time.”
“Ay oo nga pala. Sorry! Mauna na kami.”
“Yihee..” tukso ng isa.
“O pwede na kayo maghalikan pagtalikod namin. Hehehe!”
“Basta ba hindi kayo sisilip,” biro ko, habang pinagmamasdan ko ang paglayo nila. “Gago ka talaga,” Nakangiti ako pagharap ko sa’yo. “Pa’no na ko maliligawan nito, e may boyfriend na pala ‘ko?”
“’Kala mo ikaw lang may problema? Pano na yung popormahan ko?”
“May crush ka?”
“Ewan.”
“Kilala ko?”
“Baka.”
“Hm. Kaopisina? Kapitbahay? Kaibigan ng pinsan ng kakilala ng bestfriend mo?” Sasabay na naman ang utak ko mamaya sa pag-overtime ko. Ngayon pa lang, sinisimulan ko nang isa-isahin ang mga pwede mong magustuhan.
“Basta.”
“Sabihin mo na kung sino..”
“Ayoko.”
“Sige na…”
“Tatawanan mo ‘ko.”
“Konting pilit pa ba?”
Nagtaas ka lang ng kilay mo.
“OH.MY.GOD. Lalake?”
“Baliw! Yan ang nakukuha mo kakapanood mo ng sine.”
“Sino nga? Sige, magpapaka-seryoso ako.” Pero ‘di ko pa rin napigilan ang paglabas ng isang malakas na halakhak.
“Tingnan mo. Hindi pa nga ko umaamin, tinatawanan mo na ‘ko. Paano pa kung sabihin kong--”
Biglang tumahimik. Sige lang ang ihip ko sa kape kong hindi na yata lumalamig. At pinagpatuloy mo ang sinasabi mo.
“Mahal na yata kita.”
Taena. ‘Di ko alam kung nakatulog na ako at kasalukuyang nananaginip, o nangti-trip ka na naman.
Naubos ang supply ko ng hangin na pang-ihip sa kape ko, pero naiwan pa ring nakanguso ang bibig ko. Iba’t-ibang salita ang pumasok sa isip ko. Paranormal. Paranoia. Parachute. Para ho. Kailangan ko nang bumaba mula sa jeep na paikut-ikot lang ang biyahe.
Unti-unti kong inangat ang mga mata ko. Hindi ka naman nakatingin sa akin. Sa kape mo lang.
“O. Kausap mo kape mo?” Swabeng-swabe.
Sandaling kumunot ang ‘yong noo pero mabilis kang nakasagot ng, “Hindi. Ikaw.” “Ha? Nagbibiro ka ba?” Handa na akong tumawa kung sakaling joke lang ‘yun, kahit pa i-peke ko.
“Praktis lang! Hindi pa totoo ‘yun,” ang sabi mong nakatawa.
“Ah.” Napainom ako bigla sa kape ko at muntik ko nang maluwa ang hinigop ko.
“O, okay ka lang?”
“Ayos. Magaspang na naman ang dila ko mamaya.”
“’Wag mo muna kasi pilitin kung hindi pa pwede.” At nakita kong may halong lungkot ang mga mata mo. Para bang iba ang iniisip mo.
“Ano bang problema?” tanong ko nang marahan.
“Wala. Hindi ko alam. Basta. Komplikado.”
“Pinoproblema mo yung crush mo? Ligawan mo na kasi. Ayaw mo lang yata ma-basted.”
“Hindi naman. Ang isyu doon e laging may kapalit ang pagtatapat. At mas malaki ang hinihinging kapalit habang mas minamahal mo ‘yung tao.”
Naliwanagan ako. Kaibigan mo.
“Hindi ba nya maiintindihan?”
“Oo, siguro. Mabait naman siya.”
“Mabait? Pangit siguro siya,” biro ko.
“Oo, kamukha mo.” Mabuti naman at nakatawa ka na ulit.
“Mukha mo!” Tinulak kita bilang protesta.
“Maganda yun. Ewan ko kung nagagandahan ang iba sa kanya pero gusto ko siya.”
“Maganda ba? Baka ako yan..”
“Oo na. Ikaw na.”
“Sige, detalye pa. Ayaw mo naman sabihin kung sino, i-describe mo na lang.”
“Payat. Makulit. Mahilig kumain.”
“Umiinom?”
“Astig! Masaya kasama. Mahilig makipagtalo. Madaling patawanin, mahilig magpatawa. Corny.”
Hindi lang yata nya crush. Mahal na yata niya.
“Game sa lahat ng bagay. Maingay pero tahimik. At maraming alam yun tungkol sa’kin, kahit kung paano ko gusto ang timpla ng kape ko.”
“Sus! Balak mo gawing housewife?”
“Hindi. Sabi ko lang, marami s’yang alam na maliliit na detalye tungkol sa akin na kahit ako, hindi ko alam.”
“O ano pa?”
“Masayahin. Optimist. Matigas ang ulo. Maingay.” Tumigil ka sandali. At nagpatuloy. “Baliw, may dimples at mahilig sa coffeebreak!”
“Teka, mukhang ako yan! Loko-loko ka talaga!”
“Sabi mo ikaw.”
“Hibang ka talaga!” Hindi na ako makahinga kakatawa.
“May nagsabi na ba sa’yong ang hirap mong ligawan?”
“Wala. At bakit mo naman nasabi ‘yan?”
“Ang hirap mo kumbinsihin.”
“Hindi ka naman talaga nanliligaw.”
“Hindi ka naman talaga nakakahalata.”
“Hindi ka naman seryoso.”
“Hindi ka naman naniniwala.”
“Hindi nga?”
“Hindi ba?”

At tinawanan ulit kita.Hindi ko na rin alam kung anong pinag-uusapan natin.Napansin ko na hindi ka na nakangiti. Nawalan ng timbang ang puso ko.
Ilang minuto na lang at kailangan na nating bumalik sa trabaho natin. Bukas na naman ang sunod na coffee break. Ang kailangan ko lang ay isang sachet ng 3-in-1, mug at mainit na tubig. Okay lang kahit hindi ako mahilig sa kape. Nakakasama naman kita.

“Matatapos na ang break,” ang gusto ko sanang sabihin, pero nang binuksan ko ang bibig ko, ibang mga salita ang lumabas.
“Mahal na yata kita.” SHET. Mali.
Painom ka na sa mug mo noon at muntik mo nang mabuhos sa’yong sarili ang natitirang laman na kape.
“Ako ba ang kausap mo?” tanong mo nang marahan. Mahina. Kaya napatingin ako sa’yo. Alanganin ang iyong ngiti.

Ngumiti ako. Pinatong ko ang kanang kamay ko sa balikat mo para mas makalapit ako sa’yo. Naramdaman kong sandaling dumampi ang labi ko sa pisngi mo habang papalapit ako sa tenga mo para bumulong. “Hindi no,” sagot ko. “Kausap ko kape ko.” Tumawa tayong dalawa.

At sa utak ko ay may lumitaw na isang pulang jeep. Tumigil sa harapan ko, habang ang kundoktor ay sumisigaw ng “Wops! Isa pa, isa pa! Pakisiksik diyan sa kanan!”

Kasama na naman ako sa biyahe. Inubos ko ang laman ng mug ko at tumingin sa relos ko. Sinimulan ko nang bilangin ang oras bago tayo mag-coffee break ulit.

JOB SHOPPING

2006-01-10T20:15:00.000-08:00

Going on an extended holiday has been fun but I really have to get employed ASAP. My dad just lost his job this January due to the major slack in the construction industry and although my parents aren't saying anything yet, I can catch the insinuations pointed at me everytime they talk about bills, bills and more bills. The bad news is that it's not easy to get hired. I have had to take a lot of exams, undergo a lot of interviews these past few weeks and I haven't had one offer yet.

It's funny how there are some sets of exams that are also being administered in other companies-- like the Flanagan Industrial Test, G-Z Temperament Exam, Logic Reasoning Test.. I have gotten used to these tests that sometimes, I don't even read the questions anymore. I just recall the answers that I gave the last time I accomplished the test & I'm done. I don't even know if I'm answering it all wrong every time! I should've perfected everything because the tests seem familiar but there's actually no way of knowing the right answer. There isn't even any reviewer for those kind of tests. The part I hate best is the essay portion. Some even give me two pages of questions to answer, others give me sentences to complete. Tell me, what would you answer if you have to complete a sentence like this one: The men over me ______. My first thought was "What the?!?!" How in the world am I supposed to answer that question? Is it a trick question? Are they testing me if I'm green-minded? I can't imagine what they want to find out about me by analyzing my answer which went: The men over me know that I can beat them at their own game. It really doesn't make any sense but I guess that 's what you can expect from a question that is equally senseless.. ^_^

Usual essay questions ask your weakness, strengths, greatest achievement (as if I have done anything significant all this time..), why should we hire you, long-term/short-term plan, situation when you worked under pressure & how you handled it, your significant leadership experience, what makes you different from all the other applicants, and the list goes on..all broad questions which require a lot of handiwork & imagination. I hate having to write when my future depends upon my answers.

My problem is that I'm probably too idealistic. I quit my job (aside from proddings by my father to resign) because I want to use the meager knowledge I have acquired during college. I want to plan, strategize, implement my plans & have a project I can call my own. I want a career path in marketing - brand management or events, doesn't matter as long as I get to use my creativity & resourcefulness. Well I know that things don't usually turn out the way you plan them to be-- you take up an engineering course but end up being a writer instead, study well and find yourself pregnant a year after graduation.. You don't actually use what you've learned in college. Work isn't really as glamorous as you thought it would be when you were seven years old. But I dream of having a fulfilling career. To work but have fun at the same time. To be exhausted but feel that you've accomplished something significant at the end of a day's work. I know what I want and right now I'm trying to pursue my dream. That leaves me with a lot of limitations. I don't want to work in banks, call centers, real estate companies, insurance firms, pharmaceutical companies as well as networking companies. Maarte. Picky. Choosy. I'm acting like a snob but there are just two industries that I want to be in-- manufacturing or advertising. I don't want to be miserable working for a company where I can't find enjoyment or satisfaction. Good luck talaga saken paghanap ng trabaho..hehehe

When you're unemployed, there is plenty of time to think and get disillusioned. I used to think I had a lot of worth in the market-- UP graduate, semi-skilled conversationalist and semi-intellectual. I was wrong. Or maybe I was right but I'm just not what the other companies are looking for. I don't know. Things get all messy-- I don't know if I'm just unlucky or just stupid enough not to pass the aptitude or personality tests. Already, I can hear the reader comforting and encouraging me, saying that I am worth a lot, just wait and see, a job is waiting for you somewhere.. Well, I'm tired of waiting. I can wait for love to come by unexpected but I need the job NOW. Patience may be a virtue but it can't be encashed to pay your bills.

I have already set my sights on one company and I'm not letting go of my dream.

I WILL get employed by February and I'm taking all my chances on this one big opportunity. CARPE DIEM!!

Stations of the Double-Crossed

2005-11-10T17:00:00.000-08:00

Party. Fun. Friends. Those are the words that I immediately connect to Bora. Of course, those are aside from the obvious ones like images of powdery-white sand, bikinis, bronze tan, colorful shells and pebbles, breathtaking sunsets, vivid-colored sailboats, hot scorching sun and calm blue water.

However, when I got to Boracay, things just weren't what I envisioned them to be. I was with the wrong set of people. Somehow, beaches can be more appreciated when with friends.

I was able to get there courtesy of my mom's office. She works for a small NGO (non-government organization) and they are entitled to one office outing per year. Since they are only five in the office, they got to bring their family with them. It's bad enough to have my parents with me on a trip to the beach. There are so many thou-shall-nots-- "Don't go too far beyond the shore!", "Don't swim in an area where there are no other people," "Don't go anywhere w/o asking permission from us (in which case, if you ask if you can go bar-hopping in the night, you won't be allowed to go)," "Don't stay up too late," "Don't spend your money on too much souvenirs (si papa may sabi nito..)," and the list goes on.. It's even worse when you have extra 8 pairs of eyes (the officemates and their respective husbands) who will evaluate the level of indecency of your bikini. I guess they're not too conservative but well, one never really knows.. Oh, and I've almost forgotten that we had our aunt with us- my mom's 65-year old sister who believes that at my age, I'm nearing 22 by the way, I still shouldn't aspire to have a boyfriend because I might get pregnant. Now, I'm not the type to go running around the beach scantily-attired in a cute little triangle bottom and a bra top, but I sure would appreciate the lack of unspoken disapprovals. I draw the line at wearing that attire though for a private photo shoot at a deserted part of the beach. For the most part, I guess I can walk around wearing a bikini top and board shorts. Even if I don't have flawless abs, I don't care (aba, walang pakelamanan, di naman ako kilala sa Boracay no!).

The few good things perhaps with having my mom around was that we were able to get the best buys from The Original Talipapa (the tiangge place where we could buy souvenirs) and sidewalk vendors, we could ask for some money (as if we ourselves didn’t bring some) and her presence can scare away potentially lecherous foreigners and locals.

The Orchids Resort, the place where we stayed, was located in Station 3. The most polite thing to say about the area is that if I wanted isolation from most of the vacationers, I would stay there forever.

Station 3 vs. Stations 1&2
Round 1: Lights out!
It's already lights out for this part of the beach when the clock strikes 8:00 in the evening, the relatively lesser number of shops and restaurants close at the very minimum, 7pm (except for Andok's, a pastry shop and some establishments which cater to beer-drinking individuals and encourage the pick-up of local women by male foreigners).

Round 2: Sandcastles
The sand at the beachfront is coarser, with crushed red coral grains and pebbles dotting the tide line. By the way, the sand gets finer as one strays away from Station 3-- Station 1 sand is the best, as I’ve discovered by far, especially if you want to build sandcastles or bury a friend in the sand. There is also a group of people who build sandcastles in Station2 everyday and you can take pictures of it (or with it) if you donate money.

Round 3: Vacationers
In terms of beachgoers, there are more people in the two other stations. If you're looking for a potential romance, go to Station 1-- the beautiful people are there. It's the place where wearing a one-piece suit is considered passé, and the place where you'll find guys who will speak to you in a coño slur, "Whassup, baby girl?" (I swear, this really happened! I almost had a nosebleed when I heard that stupid statement..). If you're into meeting children and their family, Station3 is the best place to be in. And if you're not that pretty and don't want competition from those beautiful people, again, Station3 is the best choice. Most of the locals are there and would not hesitate in issuing wolf whistles at you. One incident, which was more creepy than funny was when my sisters and I were eating ice cream, on our way back to the cottage. There was this guy who said in the semi-darkness, "Mukhang masarap yan, ah.. Penge naman." Still not satisfied with his one-liner, he proceeded to follow us and said, "Sige na, isang kagat lang naman!" Yikes. My sisters and I don't know until now if the person was gay or just loony.

I also have a few issues on my mind. I'll start with a light one.

The Unfairness of it All
How come men have the opportunity to stare at women in skimpy bikinis and butt-baring thongs in the beach? Why aren't women afforded the view of men in tight-fitting trunks or barely-there thongs? Not that I'm super disappointed, it's just that it's kind of hard to find something to amuse one's self with at the beach. I guess it would be fun to reverse roles for a while-- women would be the ones to hoot at irregularly-shaped men and stare open-mouthed at those with great bodies. There were a lot of guys, mostly locals, hanging out by the sidewalks with the primary intention of screening candidates for the embodiment of their fantasy date. By our second day at Bora, I was already used to hearing greetings from strangers. The funniest spoken words of admiration I've ever received were "Hi, Ms. Beautiful!" Hehehe.

Those Insufferable Polluters
During our long trek back to our cottage in Station 3, my sisters and I encountered an obstacle. Somewhere between Station 1&2 (funny how I was never able to learn the boundaries of each), a floodway can be found on the sandy beach. The makeshift floodway was built by carving a path on the sand, which enables the water coming from an establishment(s?) ---> I don't have the necessary facts to be directly expelled into the beach waters. At first I thought it would be safe to just walk on by as if the small trench wasn't there, but as we got nearer, the strong smell of imburnal was enough to make us take a few steps back. Man, the water path was tainted with black grains (or was it just muck?) and the smell unmistakably identifies the water as filthy beyond reason. I wonder how much the responsible individuals are paying in order to keep the local authorities mum on the issue of polluting natural resources. Annoying, arrogant bastards. The only thing that made the situation a bit lighter was when my eyes followed the path that the stinky water took. And there, right at the very end of it were some people who were enjoying a cool afternoon swim. I do hope they were not able to take in even a few drops of beach water... My sisters and I kept laughing all the way back to Station3.

There were also some people who did mindless acts like leaving bottles of beer, bottle caps and junkfood wrappers on the sand & throwing plastic sachets of sunblock in the beach water. The latter action enraged my older sister, particularly since the obvious culprit was a Korean (the packet had Korean characters on it). My sister works for an organization within the Korean embassy and after working with Koreans for some time now, she has decided that they are despicable.

Damn Illiteracy
I may not have spent my whole academic life in the streets fighting for noble ideals but I am an inactive activist for rights to education. I hated University budget cuts. I hate illiteracy. That's why it made me sad to witness a scene in our cottage grounds.

An Italian man and a fisherman were negotiating a fishing trip for the next day
Italian: How about the equipment?
Fisherman: No problem.
Italian: So, you have a cast?
Fisherman: Yes. No problem. Because, because.. So many the fishing boats.
****
Italian: Where should we find you tomorrow? (referring to himself and his girlfriend)
Fisherman: There, the beach.
The Italian, puzzled as to where exactly they should find the fisherman, asks again,
Italian: Where will you be tomorrow?
To which, the fisherman replies,
Fisherman: Back to back. From station 1, then station3 then back..

If a place is declared as a tourist spot, the government must at least ensure that the people living within the area could at least communicate to travelers. It's hard for the locals who are making a living for themselves to express themselves to the foreigners who are asking for directions or communicate when negotiating a transaction.

Ghosts & ghouls
Even if we were in Boracay for the Halloween season, I'm glad to say we didn't run into any manananggal, white lady, kapre or tikbalang. The ghosts and ghouls I'm going to talk about are different creatures. They're human beings. My sisters and I quite spontaneously found a way to alert each other of strange match-ups. Our alert goes, "G-g-ghost!", an expression gotten from Scooby Doo when he sees ghosts. The expression's meaning cannot be easily explained because just like some other person’s undefined Mr. Right, we know it when we see it. However, to give one an idea, it is somehow equivalent to scary-funny-weird-ngek-grabe-anobayan. Meanwhile, a ghoul is ghostness in the more advanced level.
Where there are foreigners, there will always be those making a living out of their own flesh. There's Subic, BayWalk, Pagsanjan and other tourist spots or former naval bases. There is no way of regulating such a trade. Due to these trying times, I really can't blame the women who literally drape themselves around foreigners just to earn money or have a free meal. Difficult situations call for desperate measures, and it’s easier to earn money accompanying strangers than selling souvenirs along the beach walk.

When you know you’re going to stay for a long time in one place, you feel that time couldn’t move fast enough. That was how things were when we got to Boracay. By the third day, after we have gone swimming, shopping for souvenirs, boating and snorkeling, we were already bored. But when we were nearing our last twenty-four hours, we wanted nothing more than to stay a little longer. It was so ironic yet predictable that the situation just seemed so pathetic.

The next time I travel to Boracay, I’m definitely bringing my friends with me. Or my cousins. Or my sisters. No parents allowed.

Taking a Sabbatical from Work

2005-10-24T18:00:00.000-07:00

It is only now when I am already qualified to work that I realized there is another kind of vacation. Unemployment. It brings one a different sense of enjoyment though- exhilaration even, of being entitled to a lot of "not having tos".

On top of the list is not having to wake up early in the morning. Now, I can sleep as late as I want to or as late as I can without having to set my phone's alarm before I go to sleep, or stress over the possibility of waking up thinking it's a Saturday when it's actually a Tuesday.

Another perk is that I don't have to go to work pretending I'm all grown up when I can tell that I still am not. I'm not even earning a living because I'm barely able to make ends meet. I still live in my family's house, contributing a few thousand bucks for household expenses when I was working, my commuting expenses eating up at least half of my salary and our father is treating us as if my older sister and I were still seven. I hate being old knowing that I can't even control my life or make my own decisions. The funny thing about my situation is that nobody would ever really understand why I am so helpless. I have friends telling me, "Ngek, ang tanda mo na, kelangan mo pa magpaalam lumabas? Sanayin mo lang kasi.." I know that saying "I'm trapped in this situation" is stupid-- that it's not really a case of being limited, it's actually because I made it my choice to wallow in my limitations. Believe me, with the many advices and scoldings I have said to myself, I have already come up with new ones that my friends still haven't told me. But I can't do anything about it as yet because I am still living under my dad's rule of tyranny. It's either I opt to be independent and be called an ingrate, with all my immediate relatives knowing only his side of the story or decide to stick it out, knowing I'd be unhappy for the rest of my life (I mean, it's to foolish to hope an old man can change his ways or ideas, right?). And then there's the payments issue. I'd have to pay my own bills, rent my own cozy box of an apartment with dear little cockroaches as house pets, buy food... What is ironic is that even if I don't move out and stay unemployed so that I don't have to give any monetary remittances, there still are a lot of things I have to pay for which doesn't require money-- like my own choices, the risks I have decided not to take, mismanagement of time, there are a lot of them, really. But admittedly, money is equivalent to power. That is why I have to seek employment in a company with high pay (something which is hard to do, except if you go and take a job you do not want) so I can have the satisfaction of staging out my act of defiance by moving out of our house (and hopefully, not come back, begging to be taken in again..).

One thing I did not have to do again nowadays is to perform ass-kissing for people who are not even genetically related to you. When at work, at one time or another, we find ourselves struggling to please our bosses, trying to second-guess what they want to see, how they want us to perform and whether they are planning to promote or demote us. I especially hate being subservient when I am aware that I'm being so.

Another plus is that I don't have to be nice when I want to be an ogre. I don't have major problems with my former colleagues but I did have one problem with my company's clients. Some of them were persistently inquisitive, to the point that I sometimes found myself imagining that I had the authority to yell at them. When you get to answer calls one after the other and you have to cover for your officemate who is still talking to a person on his or her other line, it really is hard to be cheerful when you are in a grim disposition.

But I guess the best thing about being unemployed is not having to be busy when you want to do other things. My first blog entry was before I started my first job. Now, almost 5 months have passed since then and this entry is just my second one. I have fallen into the trap of being the classical working person--the "I'm busy, I'm tired, I still have work tomorrow" kind of individual. Ever since I started working, I've forgotten how wonderful it is to read a novel, veg out in front of the idiot box, do some beadwork and write.

I know that by the end of this month, I'd be begging employers to take me in, regardless of the pay or the job responsibility, two things which i consider among the most important factors in taking a job offer (the latter weighing more). I am already dreading the feeling of uncertainty that will surely come in the next few weeks. I also know that by then, my newfound free time will hold less appeal to me than kissing the ass of my prospective supervisor and that I'd be hankering after generating reports and waking up everyday so that I'd have the tiniest sense of financial freedom. But as of this moment, I intend to relish my prolonged hours of sleep & my lazy afternoons. At least, when I get flung back into the struggling sea of laborers (and I know it will take me forever to get out of there again), I can say that I have had some time for myself, even for a while.

Wishful Thinking

2005-05-28T16:00:00.000-07:00

I have a picture in my photo album which shows me dragging my mom's right shoe across the floor, all the while deluding myself that I was actually wearing it. I had the look of self-concentration as I slowly progressed my way in inches.

I think there must have been one point in our life when we all yearned to be older than our actual age and not necessarily to be like our parent. In my case, I thought glamour was synonymous with being old. It meant that I got to wear high heels, work in an office and do whatever my heart desires. I can stay up late, have my own money and watch anything without having to be forced to look away at some scenes that are deemed unsuitable for me. I would not be told to take an afternoon nap (an activity I seriously had an aversion for back then), not be required to eat more vegetables and not always be bossed around by those older than me.

Now that I've reached the age when all these things are possible, I find that I already have the authority to lecture to my younger self about reality.

Issue #1: High Heels-- Wearing closed shoes alone is enough to cause you pain. To wear high-heeled closed shoes is suicide. Wearing high heeled shoes with one or more straps are no better since these straps mark your skin and leave you with striped feet.

It is deemed more fashionable to have on high-heeled shoes than flat-soled ones, so if you feel that the added height is well worth the blisters that you will get as souvenirs, and if you feel that elevation affords you more power (as you are enabled to look straight into your employer's eyes or afforded the top view of everyone's heads), go ahead. Grin and bear the experience.

Issue #2: Working in an office-- My sisters and I used to play a game that we called Office-ofisan. My suitcase was an empty Jolly hotdog styro-container and my papeles were self-written memos which included celebrities' names that were mixed & matched and some silly-sounding invented names. In real life, your bag will have to be much tougher than styrofoam because it will contain documents that are twice its holding capacity. You will encounter client names which are sillier than what you've invented and the real challenge lies in not bursting into a guffaw every time you say his name to his face. And your papeles are worth more than your life if it involves a million-dollar deal.

Issue #3: Freedom-- The funny thing about freedom is that it costs a lot. I still live in my family's house and I know that the only way for me to be relatively free from the restrictive rules of my father is to live elsewhere. BUT, I have to pay the rent, spend on food and electricity, while at the same time try to save some money for the primary reason why I wanted to get away from my father's clutches: GIMIK. I still have not included the intangible costs, like putting up with the owner of the place I'm living in, irate neighbors, crowded and noisy environment and peeping toms..

I don't think my parents will be thrilled with the idea of me moving out, and will likely forbid me to do so. Plus, if I'm short on money, I can't ask my parents for some.. Yep, freedom is expensive.

Issue #4: Being bossed around-- I used to think then that when you're old, nobody will boss you around. I just never thought that those who were older than me then still have the capacity to grow old. So even if I'm older now, they're still older than I am. Bummer.

Moreover, there would be a lot more people now who will be bossing me around. My would be boss, for example. And her boss, and her boss's boss.. Being an employee requires some level of subservience, and the fact that you have willingly placed yourself in a position under a superior gives your boss the authority to do just what his/her position's name implies.

I am already tired of staying up late. In fact, I have gotten so used to working late that I am not able to sleep early. Frustrating. I want to sleep more but I have a lot of things I must attend to. It kind of makes me wish that I took my afternoon naps diligently when I was a kid, instead of putting on theatrics and pretending I have just gotten out of bed. As for eating less vegetables, I think I have actually acquired a taste for the green and leafy things that I eat them even when I'm not told to do so. I swear, my mother has advanced programming skills.

Oh, and one more misconception. When I was in fifth grade, I believed that the ideal age for marriage was 24. I saw myself happily wedded to a man whom I love and surrounded by three adorable kids. Umm..How cute. At this thought, I had to keep a smirk from invading my face. I'm already twenty-one and I honestly don't see myself married in three years' time. Heck, I don't even have a boyfriend! And three kids?! I don't even think it's that wise nowadays to have more than two children in the family. And love.. That's a different topic altogether, an issue which is neither definable nor brief enough to be discussed in a single journal entry.

This coming Wednesday will be a day of many firsts- first day of work in my first job as a fresh graduate, I might experience the first of the many hectic and stressful days to come, I'll be having my first lunch with my newly-introduced officemates and my first experience of every type of embarrassing situation. I'll already be working and I feel like I'm still in high school. And the thought that I'd be working for the rest of my life fills we with utmost dread. I just hope that I'll be able to enjoy my first paycheck. Hah! Wishful Thinking..