I Wished to be Part of History

The only part where I felt quite involved with President Cory Aquino’s death was when I rushed my boyfriend to the Makati Medical Center (MMC) on Saturday dawn. There were media people at the hospital entrance and I had to clear them to get inside. I did not know that that time, the former president just passed away. I just found out when I got home and read the news.

I felt quite awful since Dave and I were there without knowing that one of the greatest Filipino leaders just passed away in the very same hospital, and that while Dave was in the emergency room, Senator Noynoy Aquino was giving a statement.

That’s the only part I felt I was involved with. But not even close I now think.

Last Monday, the funeral cortage of Pres. Aquino passed by Ayala and Gil Puyat where I used to work. My office mates saw the truck pass by and admitted that they were in tears after witnessing such sad moment. They became part of history by seeing the cortage; while I was home working for a client, unaware of what was happening.

My parents were never part of the EDSA Revolution but they were always tuned-in to the television that time. I was a year old when Ferdinand Marcos was ousted by the Filipinos. My sister (who was five that time) and I only recall singing “Magkaisa” with our right hand waving an “L” sign without knowing what it actually meant.

I grew up not appreciating every president this country had, but Pres. Cory is different according to my parents. They told me what she did to the country, and that she and her late husband Ninoy Aquino restored freedom in the country. I had to learn how horrible the Marcos regime was before I was able to appreciate her. Nevertheless, I appreciated her, and I still do.

My ignorance made me feel like I am not part of history.

Right now, her remains are being brought to the cemetery and yet, I never actually saw it. My dad and I were tuned-in to the television to watch the funeral rites. Just like in 1986, we had our television set to keep us in track and make us feel that somehow, we are part of the history.

Then I thought “when do we become a part of history?” Is that when we joined a mob and ousted a president? Or is that when we witnessed a very important part of Philippine history? I cannot give a definite answer but one thing is for sure: not witnessing an event or contributing to the downfall of an unwanted icon does NOT exclude us from history.

The fact alone that we are Filipinos makes us part of history. It is about how we view it.

Graceful Exodus

Despite the office drama (which is mostly self-inflicted), I still had what I really want during office exodus: a graceful exit. It was not the mushy kind of exit, but at least it was a good exit.

I always wanted to be the invisible kind in a company. I wanted to be the unrecognized and unnoticed but my boyfriend Dave said that’s not possible. I was kind of uplifted when I got three promotion/career shift offers. Although not one materialized, the fact that I was trusted is more than enough.

For roughly eight months I’ve learned a lot. Bulk and rush writing (my record is 3,000 words a day), writing while chatting while talking with officemates, NOT overdressing, eating while writing, other than enjoying my purpose and making friends.

My job suited me. It was near my place, no heavy traffic jams, no heavy interaction with other people, lenient boss (compared to the boss I had in my previous job), and the company required no dress codes. The company uncaged me from captivity (courtesy of my first job).

But good things must still come to an end.

I want to explore the outside world. I want to see how well I have been fairing and measure my value. I want to park my pen and diversify.

++++

It was storming on my last day at work. I don’t know if it added to the drama, but it sure was a sad-happy ending for my stay in the office and the little world I built on my workstation. I intentionally left a few writing assignments on my last day to give them a full blast while some office mates made everything happier and sadder.

My last article was about moving on.

On my last hour, my batchmates gave me a Snoopy doll, which we instantly named “December” (because that’s the time we were hired). I sent them a long e-mail, taking into account all our good times. It was the longest e-mail I wrote during my stay but it was the best. My team leader handed me a letter (with a purple ribbon) and a bar of Snickers. Later did I find out that almost everyone in the office wrote a note to me, bidding me luck on my next career. I swear I didn’t cry but somehow I wanted to spend another day in the office to whack and hug everybody.

I wrote a welcome note to my replacement (whom I trained last week).

A lot of people asked me what would happen to Dave. For those who still don’t know, Dave and I met at the office and we played the writer-SEO kind of relationship there. Dave stays in the company for as long as he wants (and the company wants). We both agreed that it is better not to have relationships inside the office since they could surmount professionalism, particularly the drive to work. Dave still has our framed photo on his desk. I will not be forgotten.

It was storming when I got out of the office for the last time (as an employee) but I see the sun now. I just got hired for a home-based job while typing this very blog entry.

Auf Wiedersehen, Makati

After roughly seven months of being away from my comfort zone, I’m back to where my family is, to the trees and windy nights, to the simple life, to the life less complicated. If there’s anything staying away from home has taught me, that is living independently.

I was fine in Makati. I lived in a condominium, had a job that quite suits me, had a lifestyle that was quite far from being a princess, but I managed. I just had to leave everything behind. I need to think.

I had to survive the depression a break-up has caused me, but the way I took made everything worse. I was not fine although I was never alone. I love Dave so much but I have to clear my mind from all the anger, sadness and every sanity-breaking emotion I’ve had for the past four months. I have to better myself to be able to give more.

I packed my things so quickly I never thought of anything but going home. I called dad and asked him to pick me up. I took my bags, boxes and put all my things (thanks to Tracee). I left Kingswood in the midst of heavy rains. I watched the building fade from the rain as dad drew farther away. I wanted to cry as hard as the rain that afternoon, but I kept still. I watched the CBD buildings fade from my sight, hoping that someday I’ll get back.

This is probably my saddest night this year, but at least I have my family to be there for me. I’ll be fine, and if Dave thinks I’m worth the wait, then I’ll come back to him with no second thoughts.

I don’t consider any other place aside from Makati. I was attached to it like it’s my second home (it IS my second home). ‘Til I see you again, Makati, till I see you again.

Thank You Disney, Now I’m Disenchanted

If you’re the type who has watched too much Disney movies during youth, then you are most likely going to relate to this post. WARNING: not for too serious, too principled, self-righteous people. Purely superficial.

Disney movies made us feel like a princess, a sugarcoated damsel in distress. For sure Cinderella will remain a pauper if it were not because of fairy godmother who bridged her romance with her prince. And Ariel will remain a quasi-fish if not because of the prince she saved. If you were watching these Disney princesses, you would want a tiara, a scepter, and your royal couch. And you want a big wedding sans the talking animals.

I used to watch a lot of Disney movies when I was young. I even watched Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper when I was 16. I am almost two-and-a-half decades old and still, I still dream big of my wedding. It took me years to realize that my wedding ideas should belong to me and not to other people. I will be the bride in white dress, long trail and veil.

Almost phantasmagorical.

The thought of marriage made me cringe before. That is because I took it seriously: like babies crying, bills, and marital fights. Taking into consideration all the failed marriages I saw on TV, I told myself not to be involved in such social and emotional suicide. But not weddings. Before, I thought there is a way to have your wedding without getting married. I just wanted to walk down the aisle and materialize every fantasy I had in my mind, without the commitment. If I could walk down the aisle every year, like celebrating my birthday, I would be happier. Or so I thought.

Thanks to Disney, now I’m back to reality. It’s like I was already soaring high and then gravity pulled me down to earth with such great force. Honey, marriage is a big responsibility and you need time to think about it and yadda yadda… If you want to get married, make sure your partner also does. If you feel like tying the knot with somebody, make sure the feeling is mutual. If it’s just one way, it’s more than stalking; you’re a flaming psycho.

So I still have a lot of thinking to do. I should not want to be married just because I want a big wedding. If every Disney princess movie has a sequel, I might have had a change of heart.

So there’s no marriage for me yet. I would like to indulge in this disenchantment first, until such time comes when I can bear the thought of crying babies, bills and marriage whatnot.

And I have to have a groom.

Brown and Boring

Come September 2008, the Municipality ng Los Banos released an ordinance prohibiting the distribution of plastic bags in all LB stores. So now we use brown paperbags instead.

I was there when Mayor Perez declared the provisions in the ordinance, that unless the goods are wet (meat, vegetables, etc), brown paperbags should be used. It’s fair enough, or so I thought.

I’ve had several trips to Robinson’s Town Mall and one major factor that hinders me from buying a lot is the use of brown paperbags. Last month I bought four thick masking tapes at Handyman and in less than five steps from the store, my brown paperbag broke, leaving me with no choice but to hold each masking tape until I got home.

Yesterday I bought a pair of shoes and I asked the salesman to be considerate enough not to put my shoes inside a brown paperbag (with the shoebox) because it’s too much to handle. But the poor salesman cannot hand me a handy plastic bag because it’s against the law. I told him I might as well not buy the shoes since I was also carrying a big brown paperbag containing my month’s groceries. But I bought the shoes and carried all my brown paperbagged stuff home.

Before I thought it was way cool to carry brown paperbags. It’s so Hollywood. In movies, it looks to okay for the actors to carry big brown paperbags. It’s just so Hollywood. But when I was carrying mine yesterday, hey now, it’s NOT cool.

I looked for earth-friendly shopping bags yesterday but all to no avail. Has LB forgotten that shopping bags are way earth friendlier than brown paperbags? Just how many trees are yadda yadda.

I am not against this earth-friendly move. I just hope to find earth-friendlier shopping bags so I won’t be collecting torn brown and boring paperbags at home.

Schizophrenic Thing

My last few blog entries were mainly about me being jobless and a few side comments about it. Idleness is bittersweet.

Now that I’m on a rollercoaster ride with my current job (and my first real job), I just laugh about my idle times. To summarize what has happened to me in the first two months with my employer…

1. I had a few hosting stints that led to my much-fantasized moments of fame. One of my major clients were cops who want to be publicized. Riding a speedy police car every now and then was a lot of fun.

2. Working as a tech support (via phone and in person), semi-accountant, production in charge, and life guard to troubled colleagues is a good and bad thing. Good because I get to feel like I’m working and getting paid, bad because my efforts aren’t proportional to the compensation, ha ha ha.

3. Almost making the attempt to have an AWOL because Philippine Airlines called is sure crazy. Add to the fact that I filed a leave and my reason was “will be having an impact interview with PAL” is more insane (at least at my boss’ end).

4 And finally, after passing PAL’s impact interview was ignoring them as if I never applied. Yeah I backed out and never showed up again. I have my reason and some people think it’s radical. I think it’s insanely sweet:

I felt the meaning of my work when Bañamos 2008 happened. For five straight days and nights the crew and I were busy documenting the whole event. I got to do what I wanted to do, and I got to feel tired because I loved what I was doing and I was unstoppable. I did not study AB Communication for 3.5 years to just let this pass. And I can say that this sweet event is way sweeter than PAL. You tell me, is it insane?

So after Bañamos, I told my boss that I will be staying. Festivals are my life now at work. To assure that I am really gonna stay, I was given a two-year bond, which I gladly accepted, not knowing that I could dread it for as long as I stay there.

There had been major problems in the office, which is why the remaining employees became the all-star relievers of those who left. That includes me, who, at first, knew only of tapings and interviews and media things. I handle four tasks (like everyone else). But people are missing the point that I am not utterly an office person. I go out for field work. But now it’s as if I’m cuffed in my office cubicle bound to do what others left me to do. Hey now,. just this evening, I was taksed to be a travel agent. Hello, Abacus, do I know you? NOT.

So with this schizophrenic job, I am scared of losing the main reason why I am in that company. I just don’t know for how long should I stay like this, but definitely, I’m not liking it anymore.

But hey now, BOND! And festivals!

Istupeed

Have you ever felt unjustifiably stupid that you just want to be alone and figure out how to measure your ignorance? Or your little amount of intelligence? Or whatever you miss?

You see other people and you beg for a good reason why they are more intelligent than you are when you know that they weren’t. It’s a bad thing to do, but hey now, I think it’s natural. And i just wanna bitch it out because I am naturally istupeed.

My Idea of Future

In as much as I don’t want to disclose what it is that I see in my future (is that called vision?), I’m afraid that my vision might change if I let nobody take a peek on it. Drama queen.

When asked about where do I see myself five years from now, I was at point blank. Hmmm what would I be doing five years from now? I honestly said “I have no idea.” True enough, I really can’t see what I am a few years from now. This isn’t what a Bui Doi should be.

It took me years to realize what I wanted for college. Does it mean it will take me years to again realize what I want for my future? For sure, most people would want to be “successful” (really, how does one define success?) but how?

My first job application didn’t work out, which gave me ideas on what I don’t want for my future (that job). Maybe the reason why I am still confused on what I really want to be is because I do not have a specific field of specialization. People have theirs and they earn from it. I was quite overwhelmed with all those job offers online that I did not have time to think whether or not I’d be effective in each of those.

I would like to take another set of years to study again. I would like to get an MA. And by doing so, I would like to teach. Teaching and Master’s go hand-in-hand. You’re both a student and an instructor at the same time. Can life be any better?

I’m working on my application as an instructor. I was already recommended by my former mentors and I can never be more grateful that they believe in me (drama queen). But seriously, I need this. I need to learn more and to share what I’ve learned, and you know, MA. I just can’t be satisfied.

So here’s my plan: if I get accepted as a junior instructor, I’ll teach and earn. Then eventually I will take my Master’s. After that, if I’m asked what my vision is a few years later, I am sure to answer, again, “I don’t know.” I guess I’m like that. My idea of future is taking and planning two steps at a time. And it is only effective for five years. If the five years are over, then I have another planning to do. It’s just like that.

Frankly Speaking, This Is So Random.

I think I should be sleeping now but something kept me awake. Checking out people in the WWW and cross-referencing their profiles surely kept me awake, but I think the reason why I am still awake is that tomorrow is a Monday, and during my school days I should be sleeping early on Sundays because manic Monday sucks for me. I would just like to take a few hours to indulge on my vacancy, my dolce far niente, my freedom. Alavet, really. But I couldn’t care less whether or not students have classes later.

Typhoon Frank left the province. Dad has to jokingly hate himself because he goes by the same name as the typhoon. So from now on I can freely say “you’ve done so much damage!” without seriously hurting his feelings. Kidding.

A paragraph is dedicated to Eme, who passed away a year and a day ago. Dude, it’s not Selling The Drama anymore, right? Rhetorical question.

Another paragraph for Eme: Happy birthday. June 23rd.

Isn’t it unethical to lecture somebody on ethics without her asking for it and without you knowing the two sides of the coin? Not a rhetorical question. It crossed my mind again for some reason I think I know (staying awake and trying to sleep — overthinking). I wonder why other people have to be a know-it-all. That should be listed in the roster of unethical things (if there is such).

I guess my long vacation’s over. My teeth are okay now, thanks to antibiotics. Should it pain me like before, I’m gonna rush to the dentist and have it removed. So now, job hunting again.

I am analyzing the consequences of having a broad course sans the major in college: I become a jack of all trades master of none (I hate much hyphenations) yuppie. And this consequence could be greatly reflected through job huntings. In as much as I am tempted to take the easy way, which is the call center industry, I am afraid I can’t. Because I don’t want to, frankly speaking.

For the nth time I was tempted to delete one of my most treasured web accounts ever: the Multiply account. Drama, perhaps, is the most fitting word to describe the temptation. But I realized that I have taken great pains in personalizing and whoring my website, plus, a lot of my photos are solely stored in there. Maybe it’s in me to have the fantasy of being bombarded by ‘why’ questions. Then that’s drama.

Update: Erning hasn’t come back yet. Ooooooh Frank! I had to do a bulk of her chores.

Last night was Hannah Montana and Miley Cyrus’s 3D concert over Disney. I never really knew the two popstars but because the concert was in 3D, okay, I watched the entire gig. Everyone in the house had to wear those red-blue 3D glasses to enjoy the concert. Even my dad, Frank, dug it.  He secretly liked it. We caught him in his bedroom with the 3D glasses on (he doesn’t watch TV in the sala). The concert was the last TV show we enjoyed before the dreaded power outage.

So Frankly speaking, I am just bored, awake, and stuff.

Earning Erning

I made a codename for our house maid (yeah, she’s very special, that is why) so that everytime I would complain or blame someone, I would be uttering “Erning”. It feels better to utter a proper noun. Yes, mom spoiled her.

It’s been a year and two months since I first blogged about Erning. She’s gentle, kind, and she’s certainly not a klepto. But for all you know, she has a bad eating habit, a bad attendance, plus she talks to herself (or maybe her imaginary friend). She eats a lot. She’d eat whatever’s on the table. She has no control. She’d get my favorite part of chicken and leave me with NOTHING. She eats with one foot on the chair, and she forgets everything when she eats.

Especially chores.

She’d text while eating, while washing the plates, while feeding the dogs, while watching TV, and heck I dunno if she even texts while taking a bath. She’s got more load than anyone of us.

Right now, it’s her second night out. She said she’s to attend her boyfriend’s sister’s wedding, but since it’s stormy she’s stranded. So she’ll be out for a day more. So that’s three days and two nights. That’s very nice.

I must propose to dad that her salary be cut off if she goes out on regular working days. But to be fair, I will tell dad to make her salary a daily basis. If she goes out for fifteen days in a month, then she’ll get practically half of her original salary. Because it’s not funny anymore. We feel abused. But mom won’t make her leave because she’s mabait daw. And she’s the last person daw to rob us. So okay, salary cut. She’s earning a lot from us but she does not do her job well.