Rebel without a clue, without a cause!

Here is the monitor, running a word game. Here are my eyelids, drooping. I stifle a yawn. I have been yawning since 9 am. It’s already late in the afternoon and I have been awake since god knows when. Yes, truth of the matter is, I spent my restday at home - if not caught in midthought or just typing my thoughts away on my notepad. Whew! (you can tell I'm suffering from a severe case of brain malfunction!)

For the past weeks, my desk in the office (just let me wallow in the fact that I have my own desk, will you?) is a complete jungle of papers, business documents, handouts, a black tumbler, charts, modules, candy wrappers here and there and a lot of pencils and pens buried somewhere among the wreckage. Last I checked, I had a corporate desk planner. It must still be here somewhere. But hell, who makes plans anyway?

The e-mail in front of me screams all the tasks I have to do and updates I need to take note of. All the new processes I have to churn out. You see that’s precisely it. I am supposed to turn out a bunch of work but my monitor reflects a creative piece! I have to read a lot of stuff, and in fact I have one certification exam tomorrow but I’m not bothered.

Over the years, I have shifted from being passionate, to morose, to indifferent and now I am just one corporate pain in the ass. My responsible self tells me to get my reports out, clear my desk of all the rubble and pull my act together.

Every now and then, all these reminds me of the cruel fact that in these dire times where unemployment abound and good jobs (not to mention good employers) are hard to come by, I should be thankful I’m still burning cushion behind this desk.

But see here, having this job is like eating the same dish 24/7. Hey one can only eat steak for so long until he finally throws up! But you see, this job (lately), to me, is not even steak! It’s like eating high-calorie, high in fat, oil-laden “Callos”! I mean, one has to die of heart attack sooner or later. I have been in the industry for years now yet I am too yellow to do anything about it.

Looking at my monitor and all this trash on my desk, I can’t help but be reminded of that innocent, fresh-out-of-taking calls face I wore the day I was handed my first task. It was a cloudy Monday morning.

“Anne. Here. I want you to photocopy 30 of these, back to back. Good? Good.”

I had two gargantuan folders on my right hand. Pen on my left hand. Knees shaking like hell and stomach churned because I was too scared of the boss. I kept staring at a jumble of letters on the papers I was holding which I could not make heads nor tails of.

“Uh.. Yes, J. Will do.”

Uhm… What was I supposed to do again? Photocopy whaaat? Back to back? Hey, they never showed this on those textbooks! No fair!

But of course, I had to find my way through the job. And that I did. (hoooray!)

I also remember that monumental white sheet with the office letterhead containing my very first pay slip as trainer. P????!!!

“Wow! I’m getting all this money?! Man!” I thought.

Five very amazing figures and I was flustered. I don’t know where I got that excitement from, but I sure as hell know that I don’t even look at my pay slips nowadays.

At first, owed to the fact that I haven’t had the feel of the job yet, I would blindly do whatever I was told me to do. Even if at times those tasks made me raise a questioning brow, I’d obey them.

I wasn’t confident then of the accuracy of my opinions back when I was still a subordiante,taking calls. After all, top honchos were always right. The big guys loved it and showed it by means of a promotion. Cool. I was made officer at 25. The whole office cheered me.

But as the days rolled on and the childlike idealism slowly lifted, I was made to see the hard, cold truth: Top management, just like anybody else, was prone to questionable decisions. I tried but my voice would not be suppressed. The applause dwindled to a hush.

Nevertheless, friendships were made.

As a young employee, I had youthful idealist issues. Back then, I couldn’t comprehend why transparency and honesty seemed to be alien words in the office. I couldn’t understand why freedom had to be suppressed and why certain people had to “kiss” major corporate asses.

Why the stupid smile when all they wanted to do was scream until the veins on their necks snapped? Why the kind words in front of the big bosses when they said the exact opposites the minute they stepped into their respective cubicles? Why wouldn’t they speak up if they knew that something was extremely wrong? I couldn’t understand. I still don’t.

Being hot blooded and passionate, I voiced out my views as much as I could. Naturally, I earned the irk of some superiors (good thing though, I dont report to them - my boss right now will always be incomparable!) and has thus been labeled a “corporate rebel”. I have learned, ever so painfully, that unconventional people had no places in the higher ups.

I also realized that people who dreamed of getting somewhere polished themselves for the bosses so it was only but natural for them to be seen with all the right people. They veered away from the insurrects as they would a dreaded disease. Some of these people included what I have learned to call friends.

Yet, there are those that remained. And those are the friendships I have made. All of us were curiously enough, dubbed “leftists”. But what is right anyway? If veering away from tradition in lieu of a better alternative and having a mind of one’s own---definitely not dependent on somebody else’s decision, is viewed as not being right, then by all means call us leftists.

But then, most of them are gone now. Off to greener pastures. Some place where they thought their voices will be heard. Some have found their happiness, some still search for it. I remain with the latter.

Despite the fact that I have seen generations of friends come and go (the turnover’s that fast), I still feel a pinch or two whenever I have to stand witness to another departure. (and my very own soon)

Camaraderie aside, maybe it’s those simple traditions that I miss. Or maybe it’s those little green monsters that eat me up. Or could it be that departures stand as reminders of my cowardice?

I know what I want and it’s certainly not this. I started out as a passionate and idealistic 21-year old (in this industry) that believed she could conquer the world with sheer optimism, honesty and blatant courage. Life did not turn out that way.

Now I am but a vessel mechanically going through the day to day demands of the job. Day after day of disappointment has caused both heart and soul to depart this shell. I know I should have decided to leave a long time ago and not just now. But for all my passionate convictions, I am too yellow to leave my comfort zone. Or could it also be that I have already lost faith in the entire system?

Well, I will have to save that for another day---after my body has regained its soul. For the meantime, clock tells me to sleep. Tonight's another day. I know I have to work still, but then again who cares about all these anyway? I have long since died within these company walls anyway.

tsk!

I spent a good fifteen minutes or so of my precious time talking to someone about Noncompete Clause. He was trying to make me understand that the meticulous legal phrase is not gonna affect me whatsoever and he wanted to just plainly establish that fact. But the all too cautious and inquisitive me cannot let a minute pass without asking too many a question. You see, such a clause, sparked a public legal battle years ago when Google hired away a top Microsoft executive, Kai-Fu Lee. Not that I am the next Kai - Fu Lee but then again, it pays to be careful on the decisions you make, ayt? Silly human nature - gotta experience before the lesson is weighed into practice wouldnt apply to me.

Anyways, the conversation was cut short for business reasons and was given the option to think about the endless possibilities in three days time. (This is one of those days when I wished I was Heroes' Hiro Nakamura so that I would bend space - time continuum.) haha!

I picked up the phone and called Alex. I need a good advice from a person who knows the ins and outs of the law.

Oh, God save me from this predicament!

Life Defining Experiences

Is it just me? Could it be that I just complain too much about what's going on? Or it's just that I value my rights so much that i cant seem to let every injustice that I see pass me by... :)

Well, we all know the squander of politicking has been on the road since time immemorial and the people are getting comfty with the idea (since practically, we have no way of getting rid of all them). Polictics is evident everywhere.. In the government, in the workplace or in anywhere else... hahaha... I have been a victim of so many injustices.. harsh... but then again, it's unavoidable... :)

I have come to the disturbing conclusion that there is no single solution to the tragedy that is the everyday life scenario. That's not really a new discovery. I'm sure you guys figured that out for yourselves. Thinking of it makes my head ache and, honestly, it breaks my heart to see a lot of lives in such a horrendous state. What started out as wound has turned into a gangrenous mess because our leaders had let it fester and rot. I think I've said this too many times to too many people: Modern politics has now become a means to amass sums of money or should I say, SPECIAL FAVORS for that matter. When did we forget that being on top also meant service to the other people? When did it become a business venture for superiors to further their own schemes or their friends and allies', putting the interest of the majority they ought to serve and protect EQUALLY into a distant second (if they're lucky)?

Secondly, like I said before, some of us are just as at fault as our superiors. Everyday, I see people who can just get away with some nasty misdemeanors because of their connections. It's just as much an eyesore as the people who are blatantly disobeying such a simple and sensible rule. Or what about the other favorites who just smirk and smile off superiors who are trying to enforce the rules and policies? What the hell is that?? Are they proud of themselves that they can just twiddle the law between their fingers?? Daghan lang jud pong magsalig usahay.. And it's true... A bitter reality that we have grown accustomed to.

It's little things like these that make you wonder how deep down in muck we are. People close to people's hearts get special favors and those who are the "i don't care" and i don't give a rat's ass," passive and non - people pleaser type get to whimper in the brush. It's not fair when you work so hard to earn something which is simply handed on a silver platter to someone else who less deserves it. It's not fair when you have to watch others get what they want and what you want while you sit away in a rut - wishing you were living their lives instead. It's just like applying for an emergency leave because someone in the family died but then you were denied because of reasons that are too shallow BUT before you know it, someone was placed in the same situation and was granted to take a leave or two.. Don't you find it totally unfair? Or it could be that people get terminated for allegedly violating provisions stipulated in the contract when in fact the very same people issuing them are doing the same? Or picture this: applying for a position which was already given to someone way ahead of time when you know the person isnt worth a bit and the advert was nothing but for formality's sake. And I could go on an on and on with my rants. The sad thing though, is all our hands are tied. We have choices, yes, but they are all LIMITED. :) It is indeed a dog eats dog world and kissing people's asses for collective survival is inevitable.. (an utter disappointment!)

Ok, I think I've said enough. I know that mouthing off about a bad situation doesn't make it better, it just makes it noisier. So, here's my feeble attempt at socio-political restructuring: Lead by example. Simple, huh? Lame? Maybe. It won't work? Hey, nobody has even tried. Cheesy? Hehe, you got me. I dunno, actions do speak louder than words and silent gestures stir up emotions better. I think there's still some basic decency in everyone of us. Or could it be that Stephen Covey's words didnt actually have an effect on all of us?

things, random

My random thoughts right now are trying to put the chaos around me into order. I've always been a very transparent person; an introverted fellow at that. I find it hard to adapt in an environment that I am unfamiliar with. Certain awkward situations scare the hell out of me. I become aloof and distant.

I prefer to be sheltered in my own comfort zone. I hate unfamiliar territory.

Being in an offbeat group daunts me. I prefer to stay quite and just stay in a corner letting tha people around me do their stuff. I feel alienated to their circle, thus I shut people out. I may be physically present but I'm actually mentally absent.

This is my weakness. If I don't mesh well with the crowd, anxiety gets the hold of me. I hate the fuckin feeling of being out of place.

Have you ever been in a meeting or in a gathering where everyone acts so bubbly and loquacious and there you are, not knowing what to do or say? Shit! Just today, I had that experience. Trust me, I felt like walking out or concoct some lame story just to escape. Unfortunately, there was no way out for me. I had to be with this group of people. I was compelled.

Sometimes, I ask myself if I really am that socially inept? Am I? With the people that I am close with, I could be the most intense conversationalist and a blaring joker. I guess it takes time for me to adjust to new people. I don't open up that easily. Insecurity is my main enemy in this arena. I just have to loosen up.

Let this post help me to further refine and clarify my own thinking. Shit, I need a goddam shrink!

reality...

We can pretend to be brave to conceal our fears, pretend to be smart to conceal our insecurities; pretend to be strong to conceal our weaknesses; pretend to be happy to conceal our longings.

But no matter how much we pretend to conceal our negativities, we will always be pierced by reallity.

Maybe, that's what life is all about. Reality bites but we can never bite it back.

silently grieving

Right now, as my fingertips thump through the keyboard, I'm still not sure whether this is the smartest idea, subjecting my thoughts to scrutiny and criticism. I love writing and by far, writing is still the best form, the best avenue that I can let my demons out, dust out the cobwebs from my soul. I'm not saying that I write well. Neither am I saying that posting a weblog is something I can claim as an original idea. God knows I've seen people do it, and I have to admit, a whole lot of them do it well. But really, although this shall surely be read by a lot of people, it's something I'll still definitely attempt to pour my heart out on and make my own.

Life has its own system of attrition much akin to animals. Like most animals, I tell myself, people have this unique way to recognize an opportunity to escape from a coming storm, fleeing in great stampedes and leaving the solace of familiar grounds to ensure their existence. In the span of a month, I've lost a lot of people whose precious connections to me were severed due to a multitude of reasons. People online, colleagues, friends; with reasons like better career opportunities, personal conflicts, inner turmoil and the like. Somehow, I feel like I was the turf they once belonged to and their sudden departure felt violent that I felt like I was being trampled on as they fled one by one. Now, there's no one left to face the storm but me and I stare at the darkening skies still hearing the echoes of their thronging quest to survive in a "better" world. Of course, being nothing but turf, I am stuck here, nowhere to go and just waiting, breathing heavily as I await the impending doom that they all sensed. Maybe I was just too dense, trying so much to act human, when all I needed to do was tap way down into that part of me that had that animal intuition.

There was a time that I was able to listen to that animal instinct easily, when alarms would ring in my head and I would be alerted to the danger signs waving and hollering right before my eyes. But a person who wants to be free from fear, free from loneliness, free from financial constraints, free from all hang-ups would act more human, trying to make everything logical. It would only be too late to realize that the freedom lay in that basic instinct to recognize the speeding point of the spear and step back before it struck your heart.

From this day on, I swear. I'll go back to being the animal I once was.

the day it poured

You pick up your pen and begin to scribble… to write… to cry… to let it all out. And with every stroke, with every line, an emotion would flow. Every sentiment you’ve hidden will now reveal itself, imprinted and carved on wood pulp. You dot your I’s with tears, and your periods with pain so unbearable you’d wish you could scream. And if you could, they would hear. You wish that someone would come across it and read between the lines. That somehow he or she would understand. Or that he or she would even offer his or her shoulder. Maybe just the simple thought that they would shake their head, wipe a tear and feel your pain would be enough for you. And somehow you would have strength to move on… to quench that pain and smile.

Yet you are left hollow... unfilled… and empty. Amid this torture you imagine a friend. A friend who would not judge nor condemn you for whatever thoughts you have. A friend, who, unlike the ones you thought would stand by you, would never leave. Someone who would be able to look at you straight in the eye and say, “It’s okay… it doesn’t matter.” Someone who would feel with you, understand you, give you strength… and maybe even breathe a new life into you.

You imagine… and with that, the pen would drop from your grasps, the paper would lay forgotten, your angst left unwritten… Thank you, "M" for taking that call and listening to my rants.. Twas really appreciated..

blathers

I wish to write about happy times, of children propping themselves on dry leaves, of impulsive road trips, of clear facets of glass prisms, nudities, white sand beaches, of first kisses, of intense lovemaking. I wish to capture the fleeting moments and bottle them up in contemplation. All but wishful thinking!

I miss myself humming and smiling to myself whenever some of the little pleasures cross my mind, waving, smiling, calling my name -- join us, let's frolick in the mud! I am turned to moments of disquietude during ungodly hours. Melancholy, being an unwelcome bedfellow. What happened to life and its promises? What happened to wit, i am surrounded by mortal idiots!

I wish I could get just a week off. *sigh*

just rants

Funny thing is, the people who treat ugly people most aversely are those who aren’t so pretty themselves. The kind of people who spend serious money on cars and houses, on pots and pans of colors and oils and scents, and splurge on designer clothes and things which make them look like… no, not someone who just stepped out of a magazin - rather, like a walking billboard really. They pay Tommy and Ralph a bunch of bucks to make them look like an Ivy Leaguer wannabe. Either these fashion horses feel most prone to ugliness, or deep down inside they’re really ugly and being around ugly people suddenly sets of one of those loud signaling devices embedded somewhere in their person. “Wee-yoooo-weeee-yoooo, fellow ugly person within 3 feet. Weee-yoooo-weeee-yoooo.” Secret’s out. Uh-oh, what ARE you going to do now? Your life is ruined! Everyone knows you’re ugly! Uh… reality check, honey. You weren’t exactly doing a very good job of hiding it. Here’s a tip: Why not get an ACTUAL Ivy League education! How’s that for a fashion statement? Uh, right. Too difficult. All the Aqua Net must have ravaged your brain. Am I allowed to say ‘ugly’ or am I supposed to say ‘visually offensive’ for political correctness? Oh, heck, forget political correctness. It only gives people a license to be politely rude. “Oh, she’s just a person of considerable size.” Considerable friggin’ size?!? Consider this: She’s FAT. And just because you’re afraid of eating one measly potato chip doesn’t mean she’s miserable for eating a box of mallows in one sitting! So there.

I don’t really understand why thin people make this big fleshy deal about what they put in their mouth. Counting calories, weighing fat grams, measuring serving sizes, why go through such torture over satisfying such a basic need? And, the dripping envy oozing out of their pores when they see some relatively bigger person helping herself to a second serving of chocolate cake? “That’s why she’s so horizontally challenged,” they say with so much bitterness, it overcomes the strength of freshly-brewed coffee. Challenged?!? She’s been blessed with hips, hallelujah. She’s not a walking toothpick, woopdeedoo. How presumptuous is it to consider weight as much of a misfortune to others as it is for yourself?

People set standards. Hairy legs, bad. Manicured toes, good. Hips, bad. Breasts, good. Where did all these guidelines come from? And, why are we following them? I don’t remember signing up for any club membership, which required me to torment myself with that hideous activity, called “waxing”. Wax belongs on the floor, on cars and on candles. Not on my legs. My legs are just fine, thank you, even with the dark patches on my knees reminding me of a time when showing my “battle scars” to little boys impressed them and encouraged them to play with me. “Okay, you can play with us. You’re not like those scaredy-cat girls.” Such pride I derived from those days in the sunshine, sweat on my face, dirt on my shirt, running with the pack. Until the little boys grew up and started running after the girls for a completely different kind of game. My scars, which were my passport into the secret society of bike riding and tree climbing, became the prohibition condition to the world of dating and courting. And they say women change their minds too often.

Either we’ve all seen to many Pygmalion-themed movies or we’ve all been adversely affected by the story of the Ugly Duckling. I always secretly hoped that instead of turning into a beautiful swan, he just stayed an ugly duckling, went to another part of the pond, founded a colony of ugly ducklings who took over the pond and became filthy rich selling pre-packaged duck food to the vain ducklings who didn’t have time to worry about food. I know it’s far-fetched but isn’t the idea of superficially cruel, narcissistic ducks stretching the truth a bit already?

They say that movies like My Fair Lady, Clueless and Cinderella are all meant to be inspiring, but what are they supposed to inspire exactly? Discontent? Self-denial? Delusion? Are we all supposed to believe that a wave of a glossy black mascara wand can help us find Prince Charming? Are we supposed to think that wearing a pair of Nike Air Jordans and clicking your heels three times is going to help you find your way to the Wonderful Wizard of Love, Happiness and Lots of Women?

Fairy tales make everything seem so easy. There should be some form of a disavowal after each one of those sappy happy loopy stories:

DISCLAIMER:When we say ‘The End’. We don’t really mean it. Life doesn’t end in happily ever after, but whatever happens after is usually too uninteresting or too morbidly traumatic that it won’t look very good in print. For insights on subsequent events, please refer to ‘Mars and Venus Get a Divorce’ or ‘Chicken Soup for the Lonely, Dumped and Broken-Hearted’. Thank you.”

I sort of think it’s rather sad when I go to a local Starbucks and see it chock full of teenagers, sipping Frapuccinos and talking as if their lives were so marvelously interesting. Shouldn’t you be at home studying instead of spending your parents’ money on cigarettes and bar drinks? Flirt, flirt, gossip, gossip, flaunt, flatter, flee reality. Life in two dimensions: Denial and Pretension. They start so young. Why do you need to sit in a café and pay for overly-priced coffee in order to make yourself feel better about who you are, kid? Why is there an absolute necessity to flaunt that you’re better than that young girl out in the parking lot selling flowers for tomorrow’s lunch money? By the way, it’s your parents’ money, not yours. Starbucks perfectly represents the widening financial disparity of this country.

Sometimes, I feel a bit ashamed that I just spent some family’s one week’s worth of dinner money just so I can get a caffeine fix. I’m not really paying for the “fresh brewed Argentinian coffee beans”. I’m paying for the fun of coming into Starbucks in slippers and a raggedy shirt and watching the little cliques stare at me as if I were insane. Not everyone needs to look like a movie actress to feel good about themselves, children. (Excuse me, while I roll my eyes at myself.) I shouldn’t care, really, what other people think. And just because I’m not all fluffed up and prettied doesn’t mean I don’t have the same holier-than-thou-art attitude. On the contrary, my blatant disregard for convention is rooted in an even greater need to be above others. Self-righteous maturity is the biggest oxymoron of this century.

I’m not prejudiced against ugly people. I’m not prejudiced against pretty people. I’m prejudiced against people who aren’t being true to who they are, including myself. I know some of these pretensions are rooted in something outside of oneself and is actually a derivative of a society whose identity was lost a long time ago when the Spanish burned everything down, but I believe that there’s a way to exist wherein your point is not to be better than others, not to make others feel less about themselves and definitely not to become someone else. I believe that you don’t have to have a fairy tale life in order to be happy with who you are. Make do instead of make up. Accept instead of pretend. Self-love instead of envy. To want ourselves instead of wanting to be someone else. To consider anything fake as ugly and anything real as inherently beautiful.

I just want to stop needing to escape from myself and into anonymity in order to feel freed from shame of what 26 years of living has made of me. I don’t want to be a by-product of money, appearances, reputations and all that. I just want to be me, whoever I am. Though living in this plane of existence makes it very difficult to tell the difference anymore between real me and derived me.

I lost my point somewhere, I think. Can you find it? I’m done.

Oh, wait. By the way, as much as there are sweeping generalizations in this here mess of words here, you know I'm not talking about everyone who's ever bought something expensive and nice-y for themselves nor all the people loitering in Starbucks nor all thin people nor all anything at all. There are certain kinds of people who filter through the cracks of pretension (meaning they AREN'T pretentious), the ones who don't get past are the ones I'm talking about. Oh, you know what I'm talking about here, so just can it. End disclaimer.

conversations

Him: Let me be frank with you, I love your passion for your job that's why I want you to be part of my team. How do you feel about transferring?

----

Me: Thank you! I'd take that as a compliment. About transferring, I believe it requires a lot of thinking but then again, possibilities are endless. And of course, the price! (believe me, this caught me off guard and I intentionally joked on the price to let the uneasiness subside.)

----

Him: You dont have to worry about the pay. What I need you to do is think about this offer. Give me your number and I'll call you next week.

----

Has the time arrived? Is this what I have been waiting for? I'll leave it up to the moon and stars for now...

How do we drive the evil forces away?

I really do not have a sure fire answer to this question, except that lately I have been subjected to such strength of force. I am evilmyself, but some would have much stronger power than mine. And I was not prepared because I thought that evil of the same degrees celsius of fire would flock together. However, I was wronged by some events that occured inside my kingdom.

The week was surely stressed-charged characterized with tears and shouting bouts with the cosmic powers. However, the evil forces culminated with the ending of a story, which I looked forward to end in a fairy tale but ended otherwise. Moreover, reasons of unparalled irrationality and impracticality abounded. It was so much fun, definitely pun intended.

When I prayed for drama and instability, i did not really pray that hard to be given this exciting eent in my life’s chapter. Oh well, just like any other bullshits that hit me, I’ll get over this and will definitely win,notwithstanding the fact that I have already won by merely going through these.