TRAUMATIZED

I have not been enthusiastic enough to write interesting stuff lately primarily because I am undergoing a relatively deep and grave amount of trauma. A trauma that started from stress. Stress that was rooted from work. And it's painstakingly aggravating me, A LOT.

Recently, I found out that we have this perfomance action plan that reprimands people in the workplace, and that would be ME, US. People that have not reached and met one metric on the program - a satisfaction survey metric (a grade incurred from surveyed customers) would have a memo or a corrective action plan issued to them. A survey that is based and executed thru random sampling. That one metric that we have no control over. And we get reprimanded for it. For a survey. For a survey that we have no control of. A metric based on mere luck and timing.

AND GUESS WHAT, irate callers are so eager to fill out the surveys. To make matters worse, people that you have "helped" and considered you an "angel" never bother to fill the surveys out. Pathetic. So now, they give you some kind of a warning for something that you have NO control of.

Bottomline is, even if I perform well and pass all the metrics with flying colors and flunk that one metric which is actually the case, you're in for a big trouble. I got one already (Can you imagine? Double duh!), and this has been the first warning I have received and signed my entire life. Not just me actually, but most of us did. That just speaks a lot about that stupid thing. THAT that is NOT a valid criterion to measure or gauge one's performance. It's based on judgment. Unfair judgment. That's what's ticking me off real bad. You get this love letter from your Team Leader stating that if you don't comply and manage to leverage your game, you're out of the company. Meaning, Termination. FOR A SURVEY. FOR A SATISFACTION SURVEY. For a God damn survey that irate callers are so eager to fill out. And that would cause the termination of your employment. Sweet. So just and so becoming. Ew!

Considering the fact that we abide by the rules and procedures given to us by our superiors and the clients, we have no choice but to follow them. We do. At least I do, I strictly comply. In most cases, we get surveyed for calls concerning a policy or a procedure that customers are against with. And we are helpless. We get fried for something that we follow. For policies that could not be bent. Policies that we risk our asses off just so we can be reprimanded to result to termination.

(Typing with fingers pressed against the keyboard) (Translation - Annoyed)

What can I say? Need I say more? Injustice happens. I think, I would have to thank the people behind this brilliant idea. Without them, I would not have come to the realization that I am better appreciated in a program that actually recognizes me. WHICH is not this program.

(Sighs with desperation)

As frontliners in this business, we protect our client that we represent and the company that we work for. But neither is protecting us. We are always put on the spot. It disheartens me that there are no actions made to protect our interests. I guess I just have to wait and see what's gonna happen.

Just for the record, I am not the blonde stupid boy who doesn't know the difference of black and blue. I am not the male version of Paris Hilton.


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Anybody can say whatever they want. This is what I am feeling now. I'm sure I share the same sentiments with others. I don't need assurance or whatever. So get lost. hehe.

TIMES are HARD but...

I have contemplated and resorted to the idea that everybody strives to earn as much money as possible, especially in this era where money is all that makes the world revolve around its axis. So if you do not have the dough to pay for whatever service you can possibly render, then you're screwed.

Both services and commodities that vary from simple to complex need money to function. Horses and carabaos were replaced by wheeled-vehicles for transportation. The latest model of the car or an SUV, the better. Water that used to be free had been marked as the most profitable means for income production. Yes, you can still drink tap water. But do not expect to be all normal and jolly after that liquid intake. Consider yourself lucky if you're diarrhea-free after 24 hours which is not exactly always the case. If you are really, really unlucky you'll have amoeba swimming in your intestines as a bonus.

From simple kiosk to as grand as fine dining. From simple walking to full-tanked engines of four-wheeled vehicles, sometimes with two or three wheels. From simple and inexpensive sweet pleasures to lavish and money-driven activities. Massages that used to be free had been re-packaged to be as a profitable means to generate income and has been prevalent today hiding behind spas and lairs of leisure. Strategically stationed in mall promenades, blind people just seem to jump in the bandwagon as well. Capitalists have a haven for a used-to-be-free-relaxation to somewhat a luxurious activity for the rich and the famous. A peso could not even get us anywhere now, except for jueteng (a kind of gambling here in the brownass land Filipinas) and buying a local-made candy, I think.

Everything is being modified and molded to provide a better and money-driven society. But the question is, is it for our own betterment? Or is it just an indicator that we have managed to raise the bars even higher to satisfy our insatiable desires for things that can be bought by money? What happened to barter system and neighbor looking out for one another? What happened to us? What had made us monsters and money-whores?

Times are hard, yes. We need to look back and reflect on what had happened to us. Money may buy almost everything, but it should not be the reason for living.

A CONCERNED CITIZEN

Earlier this week, so much had been going around my head. I was planning to write about things that would NOT normally come out from my true self. Topics that spark for hope, love and dreams which I do NOT usually think of since I am so screwed up. (Kidding :) . I am SO PERFECT. I could not ask for something more. :) I just thank God I was created in a perfect mold, hihi.)

(Chuckles) I get deranged easily. My thought just flies by me whenever I don't take notes of them. So they're just like dust in wind. Just in limbo. I wonder when I can afford a laptop, a good one just so I can write down anything that comes to mind right after I had watched a good movie, while drinking a Venti Mocha frappucino at Starbucks or even in the stillness of the night where crickets hum and create some sick melody. I think that would be super.

I wanted to write something about what happened last week where a lot had been damaged due to that typhoon. Poor us. Trees were uprooted. Roofs were detached from the ceiling of houses. Billboard steel railing mounts were bent and crushed. We were a complete wreck. A lot had died. Some homeless in just a matter of hours. From bad, it became worse. And from worse to worst. And you know, I could have dwelled and expanded on this topic but I just had no time to even explain this in detail. Good thing I tried. And you get the picture. Words like uprooted, detached, bent, crushed, wreck and died pretty much say it all. It's just like giving a flyer in malls.

Besides, there was nothing much good fruition from that experience. Just homeless people, flooded homes and damaged structures. I think the only good thing were those politicians who came out again from their burrows to media-whore around! Assholes and Bitches! They really know when to step forward and be recognized. It's not like they would get my vote. Crazy and greedy suckers! Dream on!

PROWLER

People are leaving, FAST. I don't know what it is or what lies beneath this oh-so-nice program of ours but people just seem to come and GO (all in caps). People just can't seem to get enough of this.

What are they complaining about? I see no problem with this program (dumbfounded), or maybe I am just overlooking it. I can't deny the fact that people are somewhat suffocated. Some had expressed such disdain to the account. Some who have the courage to endure such disdain serve the thirty-day-notice. Some who just can't stomach the run-arounds just disappear like a bursted bubble in the air. And to others that remain are just waiting for the right moment to express "issues", so to speak like a scorned woman waiting for revenge.

And you know what, I don't know. Maybe I am just naive or something. I somewhat do not feel such pressure in the air. Maybe I am just new in the account and I just haven't experienced such "hmmmf-ness" or encounter any adversaries along the way. There is definitely a little bit icky-ness about some things that I am not comfortable in sharing. Sorry guys. :) But nothing grave, really. Just a little bit of this and that.

I am not numb. I just prowl and watch over for now. I am new. So there's that prowling that I need to do. Yeah, just prowl. Otherwise, I'd be trapped in a quicksand like an innocent and careless low-life unimportant being on top of the earth. I wouldn't want that to happen. Afterall, my curly hair is slowly growing little by little. And I am loving it.

SABBATICAL

Maybe a lot (?) of my readers are wondering why I have not posted a single new entry for the entire week. One word for you guys - BUSY. What a week that was!

I have not even tried to open a blog site to post something on the net. It has been ages ago already, I know AND DON'T MOCK ME BITCHES!!! It's not going to help.

Hmmmmm. How can I explain this. Well, it's like this. I know that I have been busy the entire week. That's a given. But I don't even remember the things that I got busy with. Even how hard I try to twitch my brows and crease my lines on my forehead, nothing just would pop up on the top of my head. Maybe it was just a way of my oh-so-brilliant head to forget things that are not pleasant, therefore, emulating a burial ceremony in the deepest, darkest part of my virgin soul for a memory not worth keeping.

Wow, I like the sound of it. Let me repeat that. Maybe it was just a way of my oh-so-brilliant head to forget things that are not pleasant, therefore, emulating a burial ceremony in the deepest, darkest part of my virgin soul for a memory not worth keeping. Oh gees, I am hallucinating now. I need to end this nonsense and get some sleep because this is absolutely going nowhere.

I want to recharge my brain. Sabbatical is what I think is the perfect adjective for it. Or maybe that was exactly what I did. Or so I thought. I need to meditate and sort out my priorities. I need some real inspiration, not the kind that you see in the pages of a porn magazine. Thank you very much.

VICTIM

I do not know if I am just plain unlucky or I carry this curse in job applications and job interviews. I got an email just this week about a job vacancy that I thought was cool and was very reputable, from JobsDB.com. It was an Advertising Copyright Specialist. For one, it sounded like a royalty. It was something that I would love to do.

I checked the website and tried to further research about the company details. For a while there I thought it was very promising, and I was enamoured by it. So silly me applied for the job vacancy online.

After just a few days, I got a call from one of the HR personnel and was invited for a job interview. And of course, (like I said before) as a common courtesy, I confirmed my appointment. No matter how hard it was to wake up and prepare two hours early before work, I showed up. The least that they could do was to have the decency to show up and be professional enough to come up to me and give me the time I deserved.

Waiting was the name of the game. So I did. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. And bam. There was a lady in blue uniform approaching me whom I thought was from the janitorial services. (Oooops) She was telling me her boss was in a meeting and she was informed to do the interview. I said fine. Whatever works for you. And there I was, in their receiving area with people coming in and out being interviewed in one of the coffee-bean-like chairs. OUT IN THE OPEN. NOT in the conference room. But in a common area. Where people are. Period.

The interview lasted for a few minutes. Shorter than expected. Lousier than anything bad combined. No comparison to any of the interviews I have had. And that was it. It all happened in their common area. It will all end there. I would never go back to that pit again. Ever.



*****
Lesson learned : Not all pretty women are women. Some are homos. Some are lesbos. Some are just pretty men but not homos. So relate that to this experience.

The sound of the phone ringing, music to my ears.

I have not had much sleep today. When I got home this morning with my Max' one whole chicken to go order, I had my meal "microwaved" just so I can have my breakfast meal the soonest possible time. I work from nine to eight. It's from pm to am. Not the other way around. AND IT'S TIRING. So you can imagine how my life is during the day. And you get my point.

Right after my meal, I washed my face, had my teeth brushed and prepared my bed a.k.a couch in the living room since there is a huge possibility that I won't get up if I sleep in my room, for a well-deserved peace and quiet time after a hard night's work (emphasis on the night word, please). I always leave the TV on and program it to turn off after thirty minutes. It is somewhat my lullaby now lately.

So there I was on the couch, enjoying my serene and tranquil moment when the phone rang that disrupted the only thing that makes me happy these days - sleeping. One ring. Completely ignored it. Second ring. Didn't mind it. And then on the third and the nth ring, I was pretty much all grim and ready to pull the phone cords out of the wall. Thankfully, the caller somewhat felt that it was pointless since nobody was answering. Literal translation, nobody's home!!! That should deliver the message. But no! After some hours, the phone rang again. And this is no joke. I was sleeping. And sleeping = me happy. It's like seeing a dancing banana man mascot to Shakira's Hips Don't Lie song. But no! I got interrupted again. This better be a real call for me and not some silly prank or a nobody dialling the wrong number. Otherwise, I would totally wreck the couch.

Thank God, it was for me. But still I was unhappy. Sleeping = me happy. This disrupted my sleep and since I was up already, might as well answer the damn thing. The call was for me indeed and some freaky man answered the call. He was looking for me. It was me who answered the phone. I confirmed my identity. But still, he was looking for me. Or maybe I just sounded so gorgeous over the phone with my bedroom voice. Still, how much does it take to actually buy a brain in black market these days?

After a few minutes of conversation, the turmoil has subsided. Or so I thought. I then again got a phone call from my sister inviting me to do the grocery with her because she got this eerie feeling that it was my off again. And guess what, not gonna happen. I don't run the company. I work for it.

The next thing I heard was my cellphone alarming. I didn't wake up. Logical reason, not much sleep. I have been bugged so many times the least it could do was shut up and let me be. I was planning to not go to work but due to my golden heart and dedication to my job (loser, I know) I went for work.

Here I am, palpitating and the only thing that keeps me awake is friendster. Getting thru the day with so much caffeine in my system. My heart doing overtime. With eyebags circling my oh-so-perfect black eyes and curly lashes. Good thing I look good today. Better than usual. Perfect like a god. (Giggles)

(Smiles) (And giggles again) ...

VIP Ticket to Hell

Working in the call center industry is like working for Satan's father. First, they'll lure you with money. Then, they bombard you with phone calls. And after that, you'd be dead for phone calls right before you know it.

Call center is fun. Yeah. For the first few months. It's fun when you seldom get irate calls from people you don't even know. Solve their problem everyday. And the least that they could do is say "thank you" which they find difficult to say. Talk about etiquette.

Come to think of it, the pay is very well worth it for the job that we do. Nobody has ever been paid this less as "Professional Shock Absorbers". The last time I checked, psychologists and psychiatrists are paid by the hour and are paid real money by just talking to their patients, big time. I never ever looked at it that way. Oh gosh, we are so lucky (in monotone). Then sighs. Yipee! (Again, in monotone).

AND OH MY GOD, our benefits. I can't wait to talk about them...

Since we, people are considered to be the highest paid individuals for an entry-level position, we are the targets of the hungry, deranged and money hooker predators who hide in the likes of robbers, snatchers and crazy bad-ass out there. People that like to leech and not flex a muscle since they find it more tedious than just plain terrorizing and targeting the poor, the nocturnal and the sleep-hungry "us" for money. And what do they give us in return? Well, NIGHT DIFFERENTIAL that ranges from 10%-30% of your salary. And that's just like saying, Come to work and I'll give you a lollipop! So rewarding. That makes me come to work eagerly everyday, risk my life, weather the storm and fingers crossed, not end up dead in a dark nook in some cheap alleyway. And not to mention the transporation allowance and the meal allowance to make up for the shortcomings of the job. That makes me feeeel so important.

Hospitalization is included, too since there's a higher risk of being stabbed, ran over and being admitted in ICU. But for just P100, 000, why not, huh? Some companies have higher medical insurances. It just depends. But for us, it's just a hundred gran and if you're lucky, the services are reimbursable.

In the call center industry, culture is another thing. It seems that it has a life of its own. It just continues to grow and evolve into something that has this huge impact to the ciruit of people in the business. You'd learn to smoke cigarettes. First, a stick til you reach your one pack per day limit. But of course, I am not speaking for myself. I am speaking for the majority. Smoking while hanging out in Starbucks. Spending all the money, money for multiple coffee breaks to keep the eyes open for the day, or the entire night.

Talk about sex-hungry people as well. Married men act as single men and as for women, mmmn, yeah they do the same. At least some of them. It starts with flirting. Oh yes, flirting is the name. Sex is the game. They act as if casual sex is just like eating pancakes in the morning. A part of a daily regimen, like brushing the teeth and peeing. Maybe because of deprivation. Also because of the smothering testosterone and estrogen level in the air. You know men. Men like to mark their territories - rubbing their pheromones all around the globe. No wonder Darwin concluded that we came from apes. Sex hungry apes, polygamous animals. Sheesh.

I hate to spoil your smiles and your laughs while reading this blog entry since I know a lot of you relate to this one way or the other. Whether you admit it or not. You know who you are. I guess the point is, we have to deal with toxic bosses everyday, the evolution of culture and the vicious lifestyle. I think the survival tip is just knowing where you stand so you won't get consumed by it. Otherwise, you'll be earning a VIP Ticket to hell just like that.

WRITERS

My friend used to say, "If you're creative enough, you can absolutely write anything under the sun". All the while I happenned to believe that friend of mine, until I realize that not everyday is sunshine day, especially if you're in Alaska. And I find it hard to believe - the things that my friend is telling me since THAT friend is ME. Weird. I know. Narcissistic even to some point. But I can't help it. I SO LOVE MYSELF.

So let me start again. I used to say, "If you're creative enough, you can absolutely write anything under the sun". All the while I happenned to believe myself, until I realize that not everyday is sunshine day. (Psycho, I know. But just play along) Well, there maybe a gazillion topics to write about - all good things about myself (ahem!!!), a lot of people to lambaste, the putrid smell of the slums, the oil spill in Guimaras, the fashion slips of stars and co-workers and the list goes on, but there are just quite a few topics that just run in your head worthy of your writing.

There are frustrating times when you try your best to squeeze and juice out creative juices from your oh-so-precious brain cells. But no matter how hard you make an effort to write a sentence, it just won't come out right. It just won't come out with substance.

Writers to some extent in their lives reach their saturation point. And in order to be reincarnated, they needed to go sabbatical to refresh their so-called imagination and feel the urge to write again like a sweet child who just discovered the wonders of porn and masturbation. And gees, I ryhmed. Imagination and masturbation. Nice.

And since I don't consider myself a writer (or am I?) and somebody that DOES not write novels and short stories, I therefore conclude that it would be impossible to run out of ideas. I hope. There maybe times that I feel so lazy writing something at home since my PC is like the rendez-vous of 900-something trojan viruses - all kinds of it. I so need a laptop. But up til such time comes when I can afford it, I have to make do using our company's PC, hihihi. What do you have to say about that, huh?

My Eureka Moment

1. Love yourself.

Saying "I love you" to oneself is a manifestation of self-preservation. It's a way to value one's own worth. It is never considered a narcissism. Loving one's self is loving and rediscovering what you can do. Discover your fullest potential. Give time to pamper yourself and admire yourself in the mirror. BUT NOT TOO MUCH. Learn to appreciate your flaws. Hone your talents. Rediscover your gifts. Embrace yourself. Once you find yourself, that's the time that you can impart smiles to others. Share love to others, unconditionally.


2. People bring you down.

So what. People always have something to say about you. Whether you're overweight because you have lots of money to pay for cappucinos and lattes or underweight because you have a pack of ciggies for breakfast, lunch and dinner, people would always find a way to scrutinize you. Scorn you. Make you feel inferior. Whether it's acne, bushy eyebrows, curly hair, protruding eyes, flat nose and flat chests, they are reinforced by prejudices and biases. People would find ways to make you seek refuge in the black hole inside of you. They would bring you down. Make your heart beat faster. Make you not look in the mirror anymore and start crying in your closet for scorns that take time to heal and recover.
Everyone has their secrets. We all have flaws. Successful people have managed to channel these inferiorities as driving forces to success. So what if you're fat. So what if you're underweight. So what if you're zit-faced. So what if you're a midget. These are just words of the insensitives, whose opinions are detrimental to anything good put together by saints and angels.


3. Trust Issues. Know your friend. Know your enemies.

Juveniles often interchange the word acquaintance and friendship. People we meet often are regarded as friends. But are they really? You barely know the person. You barely know his/her background. Were you there when his father got rushed in the hospital due to a heart attack? Was s/he you considered friend cried with you and laughed with you during the highs and the lows of your life. Do you remember his or her weak spot? Do you ever know why s/he fidgets around whenever s/he gets around a person he regards as a long time friend? Does s/he ever love you? Does s/he shows his/her concern to you when you get bed-ridden? Friends stick together. Acquaintances stick together when the world keeps on revolving. Friends are friends even when the world falls apart. Even when earthquakes consume the ground. Or tsunamis drench and crush cities. Friends are your sunrise and your sunset. Acquaintances are drizzles. Acquaintances are the aftershocks. The waves and the ripples you picture in the sea. The mirage in the desert. That what makes one different from the other.

The Devil Wears Prada

During the course of our life in the corporate world, we do encounter real Miranda Priestly (the toxic boss in The Devil Wears Prada) in the workplace. If you're lucky and if you smell the toxic boss from afar, then you are considered the privileged child of God. But if you are the dumbfounded and innocent employee who just can't seem to read the cues posted on your co-workers tortured-faces, then goodluck to you. You are up for the biggest challenge of your life.

It happens in all kinds of industries. This happens in companies known to man that have this smell of terror, threat to control, colossal issues of power and rubbing elbows with the known and the most successful. And yeah, this would be very common in the dog-eat-dog-world of the publishing industry and in the fashion world, too, where people stab each other in the back multiple times til it becomes a bloodbath.

Working in the magazine industry is so fulfilling. It takes so much work to complete a single issue but everything is all worth it once you see the final product. It takes a lot of closed-door meetings, fashion shoots here and there and a LOT of walking, running and sometimes tumbles along the way in accomplishing the tasks assigned to you. Rush is the game and the adrenaline rush is just so consuming. I actually miss it. A LOT.

The movie made my eyes open some more. It made me see through the eyes of the characters. It has been a dream of mine to still pursue a career in the magazine business. I like the pace. I like the rush. I like seeing the end result of my assignment. But apart from all of these factors, I ask myself questions. Do I have what it takes to survive? Do I have the gutts to swim in a shark-infested pool with nobody to turn to? Can I backstab people and participate in a bloodbath for a step ahead in my career? Will I tolerate such barbaric behavior? Will I get lost in the dark? Will my flame flicker or die out eventually? I guess I will never know if I don't give it a shot again. Knowing myself and what my heart beats for, I know I'll get there. Somehow. In one piece. The way I know how. My way. No matter how steep the path is. I'll get there.

For every journey, there is always a beginning. AND THAT is the hardest and the most crucial part. Finding yourself. Picking up the pieces and glueing them together. I have to initially immersed myself again in the business. And be in the business. All I need now is perfect timing and after that, it's all good.

Enlighten me, please.

These questions have long bugged my head for hours now. It has just been now that I am able to construct my thoughts and reword my questions in a way that they won't be as offensive to conservatists as they don't often hear the terms as we do in everyday living. But no matter how simple or how discreet I arrange my words, they simply just sound rubbish to these people. So read my disclaimer at the bottom.

On to my questions. Why is blowjob the term used to refer to sucking men's privies? When and what word did it originate from? We refer to blow as a verb or a noun. When used it blow a candle, and it would be defined according to m-w.com as "to eject moisture-laden air from the lungs through the blowhole" or to pertain to something that would explode or erupt among other meanings. But to refer it to THAT is quite preposterous. It is quite obvious that it's not the act of blowing. The word job I would understand since it's something "that needs to be done". But blow + job = sucking men's privies is such quite an amazement. Seriously, why is it called blowjob? If it has been termed as "LOLLIPOP", it would have made much more sense since having a lollipop inside the mouth is much more the same motion as sucking that darn stupid thing! Damn it!

Another question. Why are private organs termed as pussy for women and cock for men? A cat never resembles a vagina. A flower is even way over the top. A bean sprout would have been better. Vaginas don't have canines. I think. And cocks are better termed as tongue-less one-eyed snakes. A cock is a rooster. Roosters have beaks. Cocks secrete and splurge white, opaque liquids called semen - a very deadly weapon for genocide. :) And what's up with all the names and all the euphimisms. Can't two just be termed as concrete terms for easier recognition? You can't describe a cock or a vagina to a blind woman or man, since they have not seen a snake and a flower just yet. Sheesh...Too many terms to remember... Absurd.

Last question. Sex is referred to fuck. Suck is refered to an alternative fucking. Cock is referred to penis. Cunt is referred to vagina. Is it safe to conclude that anything that sounds or rhymes the same would refer to sexual activities? Like for instance, fuck-suck-cock-fuck-cunt and pick-lick-or-fuck-by-dick-that-goes-to-cunt. Think about it. They all just sound the same to me. Okay, maybe my examples are not perfect. But hey, there's no harm in trying!




***DISCLAIMER***
Not suitable for conservatists. Keep out. Extremely offensive. (DUH!)

BRAIN CELLS UNDER CONSTRUCTION

There are just times that you don't feel coming to work at all. Often times, we feel braindead. I feel braindead. For some reason, my little brain cells are not in the mood to function. And it is a fact.

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I don't know what it is today that my body just doesn't seem to cooperate with my head, I mean the real head. I have had my regular sleeping hours, which is about 5 or 6 hours at the most and these past weeks, I am happy with that. And since normal people (the category that I don't belong with anymore) get an average of 7, 8 or more hours of sleep, I just try to make up for it during weekends. I am a loser, I know. I have no life. Thank you very much for reminding me.

I woke up like a dude that got overdosed with liquid meth and vodka, both taken together less the hangover. I was so disoriented, and when the lights were on, I looked exactly like a shrimp that has been boiled twice in champagne. I think the better description would be a buffed dude dressed in drag with net stockings and stilletoes reinforced with horrible make up and the style exactly like Marilyn Manson. (At least you get a better picture!) I was a total wreck. And after everything, after taking a bath and after grooming, off I went to work.

Everything was so off when I left the house and the only thing that kept my heart pumping would be this cutie I saw on my way to work, hihi. He was going to Makati, too. Too bad he got off earlier but he nevertheless made up my night, at least for some time. (Sighs) Was that cutie single? Too bad I forgot to establish rapport and get the number like what I always do with my customers over the phone. (Sighs, again)

Gees, this is a concrete and absolute proof that my brain cells are under deep reconstruction and reconditioning today. My poor babies. They are slowly dying because of my abnormal schedule.

So lesson learned about this experience - when the going gets tough and your brain cells are in coma, a cutie will keep you going!!!

HAVAIANAS - Perfect for my flawless feet

I spent a relatively amount of my time thinking if I would envision myself and eventually be drawn to wearing havaianas in the future. I mean, I know what that was since I was one of the people who kind of advertised that in a magazine I used to work for back in March or April of 2006. And yeah, the colors that vary from simple to flamboyant and the designs just are irresistably mouth-watering. But if you think of the price, well I am all mute there.

It turned out that this rubber craze had started way, way back in 1962 and got its inspiration from a Zori, a japanese style sandal. Well, that's all I know. On how or what it looks like before, that's way out of my league. Anyways, It was just recently that it got introduced here in the brownass land where everybody just seems to put it on a pedestal.

Regardless of how much havaianas are loved here, people seem to mispronounce it. We call it ha-vai-YAH-nas, when it should have been ah-vai-YAH-nas all along. Now talk about language and speech problems. Long live the Kapampangans!!! No pun intended.

I actually made up my mind of buying a pair. As a matter of fact, I will buy one soon once I find that perfect pair destined for my feet with no calluses. As they say, when you put your mind into something, you'll succeed. And my mind is set already. In fact, I see myself in my dreams wearing trendy and soft rubbered havaianas while going to the mall, beach or even work during dressdown days. Sweet. That's just sweet.

BACK to BASICS

It would have been nice to get back to basics these days now that everything has been gauged and bought by money. It is so nice to enjoy the free things in life, which are STILL considered to be the best pleasures it can offer. It is always refreshing to enjoy the long walks again with tree shades covering the pavement with leaves dropping from these old living things.

When was the last time that we bathe in the rain? When was the time that we tried to relive the games we used to play when we were kids? When did we start laughing at silly things again?

If only we can relive the golden moments of the past and somehow stop time, we would not have been so overly occupied with the hassles of our busy life trying to worry about what we would wear for tomorrow for work or how much we would earn from working overtime.

It is so nice to go back to basics when everything was not corrupted and just plain simple. When people were genuinely sincere and honest. When neighbors were treated as family. When favors were just favors and not accepting anything in return. When everything was all good and not complicated.

Those were the days.

Greedy Capitalists + Existent Elitists = Satan Incarnates on Earth

There are just people born out of lavish lifestyle without exerting any effort at all. Thanks to Carl Marx and his theory and to other philosophers who educated mankind to take advantage of the inequities of life and the infamous greed for power, people are born with attached social hierarchy and social discrimination.

Lucky are the children who came from rich families. Luckier are those born with business tycoon parents, leaving them nothing but a choice to do and live the life they want. They do whatever pleases them. Their fat wallets are filled with paper bills made for carefree spending - either splurge or impulsive shopping of the most expensive nail polish to the diamond embellished trinkets. Their tummies are served with the finest hors d'oeuvre for appetizers, expensive champagnes and wines for liquors, sumptious entrees for main dishes and luscious and only the finest of all desserts, anytime they want.

They enroll themselves in any hobby they could think of and when they want to learn it depending on the pace they like, too - from polo to golf, from ballet to figure skating, cooking to baking, etcetera. They manage to afford the best hair treatments, best facials and best cosmetic surgeons in town, and even the most extensive manicurists and pedicurists (like there's such a thing!).

Sadly, such a small percentage can do such things. These would pertain to the favorite children of God belonging to affluent families. They work hard, yes. Or MAYBE NOT! They must have inherited an extremely offensive amount of money that only God knows how to count. They probably had their share of sleeping with a lot a paperwork underneath their butts at some point in their lives but not as much work compared to employees that are overworked but underpaid because of no available capital to start their own business.

So, I thererfore conclude that greedy capitalists are the type that get the most money in the end - dead or alive.

Job Invitation...

Just yesterday, I got this sms message from the company I submitted my resume a long, long time ago for a job interview. It was weird that they contacted this late and due to common courtesy, I replied and confirmed that I would come to be interviewed.

Right after my log out time, I didn't even bother to wave goodbye to colleagues and silently made my graceful exit. I was minutes late for my appointment. I needed to clash with somebody from the escalation department because he was giving me wrong instructions.

On to my point. I arrived there and was immediately given a sixty-item grammatical exam which I did not mind. Right after that, I waited and seated on one of the mediocre chairs provided. Then I waited. And waited again. Til my eyes were droopy I couldn't stand it anymore that I had my catnap.

Somebody called my name, I think it was the receptionist. She was goodlooking but didn't have the mmmf factor. Didn't have a butt to begin with, like a dough that underwent the power of the rolling pin. Anyways, I was called in to sit with the interviewer.

And there goes the power / miss universe questions. How the hell do HR people rephrase or reword "Tell me something about yourself". How do I even market myself? It's like dealing with Satan. Building yourself up with a total stranger who might perceive as somewhat retarded is totally not my turf. And for someone like me who prefers silent confidence over bragging my accomplishments written on a marble tablet is totally absurd. I don't get the point of bragging something that is evidenced by a resume. That's just totally pharisaical.

So there I was being interviewed by a total stranger baring my soul to her. Giving her details about my career and my interests while she converses with her friends thru yahoo messenger. How professional. And check this out, I was applying as a Profile Writer. And as such, I have the option to write for companies AND the OPTION to write for adult material sites a.k.a. PORN SITES for US-based companies. More of like Carrie Bradshaw with BALLS, luring poor souls to sign up for the website of flesh eating and money eating industry. I have yet to think about it.
It's either I become a pure self-satisfying, juvenile-corruptor writing all hanky-panky stories and erotic stories for people who get money from masturbators and net browsers OR be like Carrie Bradshaw with BALLS talking about erotic stories with substance, be famous, be a S-T-A-R and live a Sex and the City lifestyle!!!

L.I.F.E.

People always think of all the possible things in the world. I still remember when I was a kid, I would always think of the most absurd and most unattainable "wanna-be-jobs" I wanted to become in the future. There even came to a point that I wanted to be the President, but that's just way over the top. I don't intend to run a country of corruptors, liars and people who like to play games of deceit all the time. And then I wanted to be a doctor to save lives. After that an astronaut to discover things in space and the like. You name it, I envisioned myself almost in every famous job I could think of in their respective trademark clothes. Money never became an object. Kids were so pure and innocent. Even me, hehe.

Here I am now, kind of in between jobs and hanging in limbo thinking of what I want to become. The stage of becoming the president, doctor, astronaut is so way overdue. It have started embarking on a new journey. A new chapter of life where money speaks louder than heartfelt care and humanity have long been buried in dirt like spoils of war.

Facing the cruel and cold world where selfishness touches the skin like the air that we breathe is definitely overwhelming. Everybody looks for themselves. There may be friends around to help out a bit but it all boils down to you looking out for yourself, watching your own back. Having that said, I think it is just right to safely say to follow your heart.

Life begins when one decides to live it. Make decisions for your own sake without excess baggage. Life begins when one grows up, smiles at mistakes, move on, learn from them and to not hopefully make them again in the future. Don't just wake up one day regretting the things that you might have done. Live the way you want but live the way you know how.

DUMB PEOPLE WOULD ALWAYS BE DUMB FOREVER!

I definitely DON'T understand why people try their best to sign up for SOMETHING that they don't know anything about. They call you and ask you questions pertaining to an account that they didn't even set up in the first place. Then they call you, and when you try verifying information on the account, they start laughing and giving you stories that they could not remember. What is this? A game? "Oh boy, I-totally-forgot-what-I-put-there!" is just like saying "Oh-darn-I-forgot-to-put-the condom-on-Sorry-bitch!"

First of all, what's the point of setting up an account and just forgetting it. For OLD people, it's totally fine. But for middle aged-people who in fact are impossible to have Parkinson's disease just yet or even Alzheimer's disease at this point in their lives, just one advice. DON'T FABRICATE INFORMATION THAT YOU WON"T REMEMBER EVER!

And in case you somehow forgot what you put there, DON'T blame US because WE were NOT there when YOU set up the account. Don't give us lame excuses that it was a long time ago or you don't trust the net in data trafficking. Have the decency to admit that you are dumb and just plain stupid. And GET OVER IT!

I would have been so ballistic if not for my curly hair growing nicely from my scalp. Had it been kinky like a pubic hair, it would have been worse!

Bloody Pissed...

This has been the most laxed time for our work here. Right at this very moment, phone calls are scarce up to the point of extinction. There aren't so much calls today but I got so bloody pissed by this one special phone call.

My caller happens to be a 79-year-old man. A 79-year-old-man that doesn't know anything about computers. An old man already experiencing his second childhood with nobody to talk to and nobody to play with. How unfortunate. And out of nowhere decided to just try and use the net and set up an email just to be hip and "cool". And bam, decided to bug us for a problem that is not even "solve-able" and "company-related". Like a big DUH to him.

He apparently was pissed off, but probably not as pissed as I was when I got him as my customer. He then decided to rant and vent out his anger for something that could not be controlled and for something that we didn't have a say to.

His problem was signing in to his account and hated the fact re-signing in every after three or four hours because the log in session has expired. He also hated the fact that he sees yahoo plastered all over his screen when in fact he was not using a yahoo mail account. Well, two words for you mister - SECOND CHILDHOOD. Just because you don't like seeing yahoo signs plastered on your page doesn't mean that you can have that removed upon request! Like, double DUH! Moron! That's called tyranny.

And the nerve of this old man. He told me that I sounded like a robot and I should speak conversational english. Like what english was that? It's not my problem anymore that he wasn't sent to a good school to study. What kind of english did he like? Baby Talk? He's way over that. He's actually old enough to pee in his pants and wear an adult diaper for crying out loud! Good thing I look good with my hairstyle today. Otherwise, it would have been a bloodshed.

Old bloody men like him who has no respect for individuals should be hanging around inside a casket to get used to the idea that he'd be lying on a rectangular box surrounded with cushioned white satin-like fabric anytime soon.

P.S.
Don't worry. I will send him flowers.

Zombies at work

If zombies are beings brought from the dead and fresh from the grave, I must say, we also have zombies at work. Brown people like me is exploited by white people like whomever. Me, being part of that majority, refuses to believe that I am paid relatively high compared to the "traditional companies" we have to over-exploit young workers.

Reality bites. Unfortunately, there is NO other option a young working professional like me can ever do in choosing a career when in fact all that's left would be an industry most people wouldn't even dream of establishing a career on in the future. Making calls is hard enough as it is. What makes it harder is the volume of calls you get in a day which is so much one can handle. That excludes the irate calls that you get, hard customers, morons, idiots and customers who refuse to hang up the phone because of a request good enough to be in Santa's wish list.

I, for one can be regarded as a zombie, lest the decaying flesh and eyeballs out of the eye sockets but getting there. Rotting flesh replaced by a hollowed body caused by inactivity. Eyes filled with eye bags due to lack of sleep. Customers who seem to test your temper every now and then. Zombies are better than me. Zombies don't have feelings but duh, they don't have a rather pleasing appearance, too!

WHAT'S UP WITH THE DRAMA QUEENS?!?

We have always liked Drama Queens. We find their "kakikayan" cute - their posh attitude, their mix and match dress codes, their glossy lipsticks, their way of talking which at some point is beyond retarded and their well-polished nails. Oh yes, those oh-so-nice-long-nails, more of hooker-like just to say the least.

But as they say, anything beyond the cute-meter is aggravating. Worse goes to those who actually pretend to be like drama queens that exactly make them well-hated by almost 99 percent of the population around the world. Filipinos, mostly.

Brown ass people like us pretend as white ass people even if it kills us during the process. We pretend we like Roberto Cavalli or Louis Vuitton even if we can't afford to have one. Or we pretend we understand an english joke but deep inside could not even decipher what the punchline is no matter how hard we hit our heads on a concrete wall. Funny, but true. Understanding an english joke sometimes is like understanding a message written in Korean characters rewritten and translated in brail.

There are subtle ones who seem to go with the flow. Rich fashionistas who copy fashion statements from Italy are incomparable to drama queen wanna-bes who get ideas from Ukay Ukay shops or tiangges and try to deny it whenever asked where they bought those. Pity.
Drama Queens bring color to life and to the world. They are the ones that make snobs' and judgmental people's (Ahem!) lives easier in terms of panlalait. They are always the topic of the conversation. We don't have anything good to say about them and we love lambasting and stabbing their backs. Always a fun, fun, fun thing to do.

So long as there are Drama Queens a.k.a. beyond-retarded-citizens of this third world country, life would always be supercalifragilisticexpialidoscious. I just hope my spelling is correct (fingers, crossed).

Yes to Yoga, or No to Yoga?

Well I have been thinking for over two weeks now about the yoga classes that my friends and I inquired about in some "sosyal" place in Makati City. That kind of yoga is called bikram yoga.

Maybe you guys are wondering how much it would cost me to actually "pretzel" my body and distort it in a way I wouldn't get hurt. P900 for three sessions and after that, less than P5000 for a 30-day unlimited body twitching. Pretty nice, huh? I just don't know if yoga in other countries are THAT expensive or is it just because of the heated environment that makes is so darn elitist.

Yoga has always made made me interested. I did try some basic yoga and pilates classes way, way, back and boy, it was so refreshing - not just for the body but for the mind as well. It somehow uplifts the spirituality of the person. It may somehow be related to the environment and the music that relaxes the body and mind with only one voice to hear which that of the instructor. And speaking of the guru, I think it's also one thing that makes me so eager to attend the class. The guru is a foreigner and so damn hot. Clothes-wise, the guru just doesn't wear as much. Take off the shirt, wrap around that tiny lean body with a towel and voila - show off that sinewy arms and toned body with just this little, tiny boxer-like spandex trunks which makes it more interesting. Talk about yummy, :)

I still have to ask my friends when "our yoga escapade" will start. Come to think of it, the place is nice and especially the locker with a state of the art medieval-slash-asian inspiration. I can't wait to picture myself in the shower drooling over the guru's physique just like that, hihihi...
And come to think of it, does yoga adds more libido? Let me ask you this, having that said, is it a yes or no to yoga? :)

P.S.
I was trying to post a picture together with this blog posting but damn windows xp professional. It's not letting me do it. Heck!

Is Masturbation good for me?

I have this weird feeling that the reason why I feel like a sloth with no absolute physical activity would be me not being able to masturbate everyday. It is so ironic that I don't get to do much extra-curricular activities these days. And I somehow relate it to masturbation.

What good does masturbation bring to mankind aside from population control due to genocide. At least, that would the purists would say. But seriously, is IT really the reason why I feel so lazy these days. And come to think of it, I have not done it on an everyday basis.

Whacking off needs so much concentration to actually "feel" it. Apart from that, it needs so much energy and palm reflexes to savor the moment. Otherwise, it's not going to work. It is so much work. Well, I mean in scientific terms, mastubation to sound more formal. After all the concentration and exercising the palm, fingers and knuckles, there goes the fluid in a squirting and rocket-like motion. And then you feel tired and you feel like sleeping. I guess that's the whole point. You get tired and then get sleepy after.

I guess I need more sleep than more masturbation. But if I can get both, what the heck! Let's go for the gold. :P

Just Plain Burnt-out!

Work never seemed to be soooo draining like this before. Back in the Ortigas site where I used to work in was just plain easy and no-brainer. Not to point out the obvious, it was so easy to get there. Just one ride and you're done. No hassles of crossing the street or no brisk walking involved with risks of getting tossed by reckless drivers. AND we never failed to entertain ourselves there - random gossiping, eating crispy pork skin (aka chicharon), and talking about non-sense would get us thru the day (or should I say night?).

Now, aside from the toxic program I am in, which I thought at first was challenging and fun, creeps me out. There are just so many parameters. With the extremely expensive fare going to Makati and random asshole drivers who don't want to take you to your point of destination because of congested service roads and greed for passengers for another round trip AND a relatively risky way to cross the street away from the pedestrian lane since the company building is opposite the drop off point, there are way lots of things to consider and point out.

The program is so not my turf. Technical questions about domain names are like encrypted messages from Krypton. Although we have technical support, at times we are misjudged plainly because we don't know what the customer is talking about. Most of the time, bugs or glitches are evidently there to consistently remind us that the systems are NOT perfect and make us realize that we are paid to take in calls. We don't even have idle time anymore. Bug equals more calls to take. The progam I am in now is relatively simple. What makes it complex would be the scope of support that we offer. I REALLY DON'T KNOW what this program has but at the end of the shift I just feel so used up that I feel the company underpays me A LOT.

The environment here is needless to say smothering. I feel agents are choking me to death with their two hands wrapped around tightly on my neck, especially the tenured ones. They feel they are so much better than us, which is totally quite the opposite.

Talk about pressure in the work place. I smell and embrace politics everyday. It's in the air that I breathe. It's all around us that I can't even express it enough.

People here mostly based on character are tolerable and genuinely nice. But when it comes to work, there goes the pride and ego. They don't want to be outshun and are so hungry for promotions. Poor low-life-egocentric-promotion-hungry citizens of the company. And some due to frustration just emit that frustrating atmosphere that affects us all leading to low morale and high absenteeism rate.

I am completely burnt out now. It completely depletes my energy and it's just a matter of time that I go and pack my bags again. Maybe go for a lateral transfer or some other companies that would make me worth my skills. Had I have options, nobody would have ever seen me around here. I deserve more than what they are paying me. If I am not treated and recognized right eventually, it's goodbye Convergys and hello world for me!

Just my Luck, Week-End Escapade - Part Duex

It was lunchtime today when my dad together with my mom drove me to the bus station. I got on a bus going to Pasay to go back to a Manille, again (sighs).

I was seated two seats from the driver and it was good since I have some "perishable goods" (food supplies) on board. I considered myself lucky. I figured it was a good idea so when I get off, I won't ever have to walk that long stretch from the far back end of it. So I stuck with my plan.

All the while, I considered myself lucky not until this person who collects the fare stepped on my of so dear toes, on my four toes to be specific. I was on the verge of getting that nap I was trying to make for 30 minutes already and this guy playing innocent just stepped on my toes so hard they almost got murdered! I screamed. NO, I SCREAMED HARD. His shoes were like hiking shoes, with defined soles and two inches made of rubber.

My left foot was not wandering around. It was safe, or so I thought. He apologized. I didn't say a thing mainly because I am pissed off at him stepping on my toes with his shoes shaped and weighed like anvils AND him interrupting me in getting my sleep. It was not like he could take it back. I spent my ten minutes massaging my toes, and up til now, they still hurt. But maybe I am just exagerrating.

So, to make things simple. I got over it. That entire trip, it was raining. And people tried to point the airconditioner vents away from them because duh, it was so cold. It wasn't a bad idea but when people try to direct the a/c vents TO YOU just so they won't point or direct to them, it's pretty much the WORST idea. And guess what, all a/c vents were pointing TOWARDS me. People have a way of saving their asses off in expense of others which happenned to be me. Poor me. Damn it.

To my dismay, I asked one of the passengers opposite to me to direct the vents elsewhere since my armpit hairs are freezing to death as well. And she did but the passengers in front of me I could not ask. One of those two passengers was an old man. And I knew he was frail, so I sacrificed. Poor grandpa didn't have a jacket so I endured. And you guys call Manny Pacquiao a hero? And what would you call me then, huh?Huh? Kidding.

That bus I was on was cursed. Dude, could you get any luckier? And to think during my entire trip I was dodged, bumped and my hair was pulled ocassionally. And oh boy, it loved to pick and get passengers along the way which is okay if it were faaaaaaasssssttt. It was not.

I spent almost 4 hours to get back home in Manila which supposed to have been 2 1/2 hours ONLY. And that long trip I would say is the most and unwanted ride I don't ever plan to relive again.

Week-End Escapade, Part Une

Today is such a lame day for me. I just got back from Nueva Ecija late this afternoon. I did come home to spend some quality time with my folks since it has been 2 or 3 weeks I think that I have gone home. It was a busy weekend for me.

Saturday, straight from my 9pm-to-6am shift, off I went to Nueva Ecija. My ETA was before 12 in the afternoon. The minute I stepped foot on our house, I quickly requested for food, hehe. I didn't have time to sleep because of my rendez-vous - my niece's birthday party in Jollibee (bee-happy :)) at 2pm with the entire family.

I was totally beat up. No sleep yet - 15 hours awake that time. As for any kid's party, games were the biggest part of it. And thanks to the emcee who happenned to have that i'll-put-an-S-to-everything-speech problem, I managed to laugh and be awake at the same time.

Mingling with cousins was my main priority, even I was half-dead and half-boring. I think I did okay. So after seeing the gigantic, monumental and colossal one of a kind, odd-looking and most colorful bee in the planet - Jollibee which happenned to be the highlight and the sign that the party was about to end, we went to Robinson's Department Store.

It has been ages since we have gone to loiter together. And that was it. We visited shops and looked for interesting items. We bought some items, since almost everything was on sale. So we figured, we'd take adavantage. Most of items that we got were not ours of course but gifts for people who celebrated and would celebrate their birthdays. We tried to looked for items to shop for ourselves, but nada. Zero. Not much choices anyways.

The moment we went home, I was like a withered veggie. No energy and so, so tired. I washed my face, got my sleeping clothes, brushed my teeth, kissed my parents good night, went upstairs, surf the channels and before I knew it, my saliva was dripping on my pillow case. Just like that. And that ended it all.

I woke up and it was already Sunday. Tiring as it was, I enjoyed the time I spent with my family. Around lunchtime, I needed to get my ass back here, in Manila. And here I am now and about to start my new week again.

Updating my MySpace account....

I am in the middle of updating my mySpace account as we speak. Unlike friendster, MySpace has so many features. God only knows how many buttons and links I have to go to for me to actually and completely make changes on my account.

I only have one friend on my account, not because I am retarded. I just have no time to look for my friends in MySpace. Afterall, I have Friendster. I don't need to make up an account to each and every website that offers the same service. But, what the hell. I don't know why I am updating it anyways.

Odd as it is, MySpace has so many account details. Even the income I am earning I have the option of putting and typing in. What is this? Bureau of Internal Revenue? I don't see the point of having to put it in there. So people can see how much you earn and then take advantage of you? I may be stupid at times but I AM NOT THAT STUPID. It's like suicide. It's like a straight guy watching Queer as Folk or a gay guy turned straight or something.

Friendster is still number 1 for me in terms of use and functionality. MySpace doesn't even have Philippines as one of the options in choosing and adding the school that you come from.

Regardless of what was said, I am still updating it. Period.

Paris Hilton is a bitch served on a silver platter!

The all rich and famous dumb blonde - Paris Hilton is one hell of a bitch. Could you imagine Paris singing her heart out to the tune of "Stars are blind"? I did. And my skin almost separated from my muscles. It was like a hen smothered to death by a rooster in the middle of their hot kinky sex. A morbid scenario huh, but more or less accurate. It was so bad I got traumatized the whole day that I skipped my meals and locked myself up in the attic.

Paris being known for her nothingness is cute. We admire her for that aside from sequels of her sex videos. She best exemplifies the all-american-blonde and can be compared to the likes of Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson, one on the brink of losing her marriage with a rapper-wanna-be and bloodsucking leech K-Fed and the other almost out of the started-as-happy-newly-weds-now-undergoing-a-nasty-divorce type respectively.

If only they could think, life would have been more wonderful and generous for them. As for Paris, she's enjoying tasting penis. Es. Penises. From one man to the other. Sometimes, both at the same time. No wonder Paris' mouth looks so distorted, it must have been overworked for her taste-testing.

Paris Hilton might be an heiress but she sure is one classless bitch who lures poor men to her overworked pussycat decorated with diamonds and fancy jewels to look awesome. Paris is a sexual predator with an insatiable appetite to semen and penis. Oh, yeah. Penis. Es. Penises.

I think she just has to do what she does best (which is making sex videos) and not singing, oh please.

Keanna Reeves is lucky

I watched The Buzz earlier this evening, a local kind-of-ET here in the Philippines and I almost could not believe that Keanna Reeves was dating, according to the show, Andrew Wolffe.

Andrew Wolffe, (google him, please) is just one of the 20-year-old hotties gay men and girls drool over. And as for Keanna (google her, too), she's a rather mature woman who at first lied about her age when she first came out and joined the showbusiness industry. I don't recall or maybe I am just in denial. The fact that she is going out with Andrew Wolffe whose body is almost as sculpted as that of Adonis is almost farfetched.

Well, come to think of it, Keanna might be Andrew's type after-all. Well-endowed breasts (with silicon implants) and so-so buttocks. She's like Pamela Anderson, without the ahmmm, oooh, let's not get there. She's perfect for the young man's type. In all fairness to Keanna, she is a smart girl. She may not know English very well but once she gets serious, she knows what she's talking about. He'll learn a lot from her, both in bed and in life's choices. Yeah, baby!!!

I think if there is a woman who would understand him better about his issues, it would be Keanna. Let's just say they both had their fair share of the dark and grim past.

What the hell, I am still jealous. And Keanna is one lucky mature woman!

My PC is painstakingly SLOW and TERRIBLE.

I have wanted to post something early this afternoon. And when my errands were suspended and set aside that this prehistoric PC won't even let me open an internet browser. How unfortunate, I have so many things to write and vent to my everdearest blog site and now I dont remember anything anymore. Thanks to this PC that downloads pop ads all the time, especially porn sites I don't even visit.

All I want to write now is how to dispose of this old piece of junk and figure out what PC requirements I need to just check and write to this site without delaying me 15 minutes 48 seconds to open this stupid damn thing.

And the worst part is, I have tried early this afternoon to write and it had taken me to restart this PC I am using now about 3 times. First, it won't even recognize I have a modem. Second, everytime I open it, this mother fucker porn advertisement stuck in this PC today and God knows how many times I tried to delete and look where the hell it was hiding from just won't quit popping and saving in my hard drive. If it were a free porn site, I won't even mind. Well, it's not and it's in Italian. So I don't know what it's saying. Fucker! And thirdly, I had some interesting things to write on here that I don't even remember anymore because I am preoccupied (and still am) with this unfortunate predicament.

So to my readers, if I have one, hahaha!, donations are accepted or better yet, a new and up-to-date PC is very much welcome. Just ask me where to send it to.

A TL made from China

Almost everybody knows the fact that I already transferred from my previous program that got closed because of some weird and undiscussed reason to a totally established program in a new environment.

I chose Yahoo! as my new account because I THOUGHT (please take note) that it would give me room to grow and prove to myself that I can swim in a 54-foot deep ocean without a life vest.

Everything was a complete wreck since we got absorbed eventually by Yahoo!. The Communication Culture Training was okay though. Our trainer was like Simba's equal, only a female, rightful to be called as "the Lion Queen" with balls, but was able to deliver a top-quality training amongst all of us.

Immediately after that, we were required to go thru the Product Specification Training, which we thought was going to be as hard as walking on a pile of charcoal embers. But we were deceived. It was harder than that. It was that plus pounding our heads off til our brains come off of our earbuds and nostrils. Not because Yahoo! was so difficult to understand but because our "trainer" needs some more intensive training in delivering the subject matter. We mainly breezed thru the manual, and thank God I asked questions. Otherwise, we'd all be in bad shape, big time.

And so after all the training that would 'suppossedly give us knowledge' and some 'hands-on-training', we were directly put in production (on the floor) to observe and have a feel of the account. There we were, like lost kittens with no absolute acquaintances.

Hardly enough, we were dissatisfied. I personally felt the unwelcoming and bad vibe on the floor and guess what. This TL (short for Team Leader) that I think should not be a TL but a factory worker making plastics and selling them in Divisoria or Tutuban oriented us with no idea what she was doing. She couldn't even pronounce the words right and yes, she's a supervisor. And that's not the best part. Aside from her malfunctioning tongue that obviously has a Level 10 difficulty in English Pronounciation AND GRAMMAR, she could not make and deliver a sentence without the pauses, stutters, ahhhs, ahmmms and the rolling of her eyeballs in her eye sockets. Talk about EFFICIENT LEADERS in the company. She'd be a perfect example.

This TL that I am talking about is also a TL made from China! At first, she would be nice to you in front of her bosses and peers, hugging them, exchanging cheek-to-cheek "besos" (kisses from Satan) and some simple chit-chats, and once she's through, she'll be this TL that grows an unusually long claws and canines ready to fiercely devour you and make you feel that she's in control.

I could not even describe how evil she is. I know China is a country that capitalizes in cheap labor and mass production that results in low grade end-products. This lady is exactly the same, or should I say, WORSE. She'd ask you to laugh discreetly or not-so-loud when she in fact flirts and laughs like a classless bitch you can hire in exchange of a dental floss or a "jolly-jeep meal". She's a low grade, classless and a dumbass bitch who just got lucky for a promotion.

Grrrrr... She's getting in my nerves... And we were just on the floor for how many days. I just hope I can ignore her and make her invisible long enough. But on a positive note, thanks to her I made an interesting blog entry. And why would I be worried about her, she's just there to make my life interesting, I hope.



P.S.


OTHER THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT HER

1. She doesn't have a fashion sense AT ALL. She lives by the
all-shades-of-brown outfit a.k.a. brown-kung-brown
2. She doesn't even work hard.
3. All she does is send text messages. That's why she looks
like a big infected thumb with pus.
4. She looks at her PC and works on something for hours, even if
it's just a MEMO, an excel document or a Yahoo!Messenger chat box.
5. She acts a total classless bitch laughing and giggling with her
peers and superiors projecting an image totally different from
her real self.
6. She's cheap and is not worth an ounce of respect.


And MY GAME PLAN!


1. Play her game and get close to her.
2. Stab her in the back soon.
3. Make her life a living hell.

Saturday Mayhem

Today is such a lame day. Today is the official start of my weekend and my friends are just not in the mood to go out and have a good time!!! Do they ever know what nightlife is like? All my friends are nowhere to be found. They're either in their state of hibernation (sleepyheads!!!) or God knows what they're doing... Partypoopers!!!

Damn it... I am so bored to death. I have pratically watched all day. Scanned channels and what's worse is there is nothing interesting to watch. Can just anyone shoot me in the head to end my misery?

I practically utilized all my options and done everything from my to-do list. Watched tv while having my lunch, check. Prepared my laundry for later, check. Thought of my crush, check. Checked my email, done. Talked with strangers through Yahoo Messenger, done... And now here I am in front of my old PC, updating my blog and writing all this non-sense blah, blahs.

(Sighs) Now that I am stuck at home, done watching all my favorite koreanovelas, I don't know what to do next. I just have to make do with what I have. Hmmm, since I am all alone I can watch porn all night and jack-off til my privies sore. But I am not going to do that. That is not very becoming, people might think I am some sick virgin gone delirious because of zero sexual encounters. But come to think of it, that's not a pretty bad idea afterall. Haha! Kidding! There's no fun in that either! :)

Buffet a la PIMP-les!

Just when I thought I have outsmarted puberty that it suddenly visits me again out of nowhere. Don't you hate that curly hair growing on your legs until they become public pubic hair everytime you wear those shorts? Don't you just abhor that soft and silky skin turned into some grim and dark mudpit you get from exposure mostly from the sun? Don't you just LOVE your armpits growing those vicious hair that get wet whenever you perspire? Don't you LOVE them?

Well there are certain things that I liked transforming from a little boy to a guy, a term they call puberty, which by the way is confusing since I think there's just little relevance to the word compared to transformation of the body. For one, it made me a LOT taller that I was before. From the first to the middle in line is not a bad improvement at all. And that's because of puberty, too. Had I known masturbation is encouraged to boost your height at an early age, I would have done so in the past in my early years. What's there to lose than an excess teaspon of immature, sticky semen? Height is everything. Semen can be reproduced hard core by the two hardworking balls especially when horny.

Puberty also causes hormonal changes. Kids my age who used to have the soprano and operatic suddenly got stuck with the heavy, deep tenor vocals. And as for me, I got stuck with the pitchy and loud voice because of genetics. Bone structures change as well. Guys become more mascular, girls become more feminine. Girls start to go thru menstruation, and as for guys, they learn to sneak and crawl to their father's lair of porn, dirty and nude magazines with male and/or female bodies to pleasure themselves, hahaha!

But apart from all of these, what I hate most about this silly metamorphosis are those little and sometimes volcano crater-like zits that don't seem to stop from growing in the face, back and everywhere. Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce to you the worst and my archenemy - buffet a la PIMP-les!!!

Pimples are like your enemies, they sometimes treat you nice and good. But once you diss them off and argue with them, the sudden ungodly inflammation and wrath of these tiny mother fuckers would just grow from your hair follicles til they become gigantic life-forms! They would fill your face up with zits and pus til there is no room for confidence! And they get the best of you. And after these crazy mother fuckers subsided, these scars would be left to scorn you for life! Just like your enemies.

Yes it's part of puberty, the good and the bad to balance it. But the truth of the matter is, I AM NOT transforming anymore. I AM DONE WITH PUBERTY! And still these tiny little lumps filled with bacteria just won't leave me alone. Sometimes, they let me be for a few days but these tiny, deadly and unmerciful zits just retaliate again, not just one or two but in groups. And boy they like to cuddle in one exact area, giving you a one big red bump and lump that looks like a burrow of an anthill or a cocoon. Fuck!

I have tried absolutely everything. From ointments to going to top notch dermatologists for facials and treatments. Thanks to Dra. Vicki Belo it made my skin a lot better. Thanks to that Vitamin A overdose intake that almost got me broke and scared of cholesterol as this medication does something from the inside to screw your gland secretion. It made my skin better but still, I have them, not in throngs but only mild breakouts this time. What can I do, I have an oily skin, my skin secretes too much oil that mainly causes my break-outs mixed with the worst environmental conditions in the country. Anyhow, thanks to my oily skin as well it makes rejuvenation and my youth intact, hihihi!!! I am still lucky...

I must admit it brings you down and it wrecks your self-confidence, it's true. BIGTIME! But all of you suffering or had suffered and still choose to live unnoticed, consider yourselves lucky and beautiful. Channel that negativity into something else and rediscover yourself. Focus on what you can become and not what you are at the moment. Great gifts are wrapped simple, sometimes even undesirable to conceal it's worth. Caterpillars are given the chance to become butterflies. And you, what more!

After all, beauty is just skin-deep. But it's important to be comfortable in your own skin, too with or without the Buffet a la PIMP-les!!!

A Fallen Leaf

I am as good as a leaf that has fallen from a tree. I am no special.

God created me like everyone else. As normal as I can be. I am physically endowed, pretty much the same as everybody else. I have eyes, arms, legs, feet, a heart and a brain just like most of us. In that case, I am no special.

I am dissed off at times. Worse, Maltreated. I maltreat someone, too. I am misjudged. I also misjudged people. I have lustful dreams, and a few times, nightmares. I am just like you.

I am no different physically. But in the outside, I am a totally different package. I maybe Asian, termed by most by the uncivilized as a brown monkey but I am no different than a Caucasian, European or African guy.

I am unique in different ways. I think, unlike most males who use testosterone for judgment. I act according to my will. If you think you know me, you better think again. You are in for a surprise of your life.

A leaf, once fallen from a tree goes places. Once airborne, it can even reach the skies and kiss the clouds.

Sex and Something more

It never fails to entertain me whenever I think about sex. The word sex, the three-letter word that seems to mean a lot of things is just so amazing. Who would forget the burning sensation of capital S-E-X in the verge of bursting and exchanging bodily fluids between you and your partner, ahem! basing this thru the books that I read and not-so-dirty mags that I pick up every once in a while of course. (And pls, don't ever think that it came from a personal experience. I am not a classless asshole bitch, at least not yet. Haha!) Who would forget that aggressive couple who all of a sudden are parents because the guy just was so caught up in passion he forgot to put a condom on and suddenly impregnated his girlfriend. Who would forget that one crazy little boy who tried to rape his playmate just because he wanted to put his small dick in that little girl's skirt all for the sake of fun. Who would forget that married man who all of a sudden was cock-less because he was caught cheating by his wife. Geez, how does he even piss? Well, the list just goes on and on. And all of these because of this three simple letters, S, e and x.

Sex is a feeling. In fact, a burning sensation. Who would not want to experience that? Even Catholic priests and nuns could not contain that sudden urge of "mmmfff" feeling. Sometimes, that vow of celibacy would just have to be set aside. Who are we to blame them. They are after all humans with cocks and pussies. All after sex.

As with my case, there would always come a time that I think of it. Sometimes if not most of the time, even more. From a virgin's point of view, yes my friends, I AM, (Get over it!) it's so ideal. We always like to picture sex in some lucid and surreal dimension. No hassles, just pure satisfaction. No diseases, no ungodly misconduct but ungodly things and all for the sake of pure sex.

But the things is, everytime I think and I tell myself I want to do it, that's just the time that I back out. So many things pop in my head. The "what-ifs", "how-abouts" and "in-case" phrases just keep on going forever. There was this one time that I wanted to have sex and one step closer of doing it, it just gave me butterflies in my stomach. There goes the "what-ifs" etc. again. What if my sexual partner isn't safe? What if we want it unprotected? Will I end up one day in a hospital with a needle stuck in my right hand, having myself treated from AIDS just because of that one stupid mistake? Or will I walk away clean, divirginized brown-ass guy who just could not stop smiling because of that unforgettable sexual encounter? Will I like it? (duh!wrong question) and my worst what if... What if I like it so much I get so hooked up to it? Will I be some heartless sexual predator hunting alleys and streets for sex? Will I be caught most of the time in cheap motels with multiple unknown partners to satisfy the urge? Will I ever stop? You know, things like that...

Sex has became somewhat a responsibility for me. Yes, it can be so consuming and somewhat splendor but you can also end up in a hospital for an STD-treatment. A penicillin and a coconut juice can only do so much for you. Aggressive as youth can be, we can always take precautions and yes, sometimes be carefree.

Life may be a one, big red-and-black roullette (spellcheck, pls), but it's up to us to play it. Sex consumes you. Sex can also make you sane, happy, blah, blahs. I am not saying it's bad or anything. As for me, as long as there is my hand as my company, masturbation would do for me until I meet that selfish, drop-dead georgeous special someone who's diseased-free, stylish and clean-looking. And whoever you are, hurry up son of a bitch, will you... I met get tired waiting for you I might end up hiring a sex slave to satisfy my bursting, uncontrolled and unleashed sexual drive!!! All my waiting for nothing!!! Hahaha!

Change

Thing have definitely changed. The only thing that motivated me to come to work has been take away from me. Today is the third day of having to go to work without my former team members. They, too got transferred to different teams. I must say I do not miss all of them, but I definitely miss the things that we do together. The things that we argue about, which were mainly nonsense.

One thing I miss the most would be the noise we all create together during avail (avail = when there are no calls) time. We just try to kill time and just laugh at something that we think is funny. Though now I could get to feel the vibe of my new time, it still won't be the same. There won't be familiar faces anymore. No distinct laughs. No definite things in common we used to share together.

I guess life means moving on. Getting to accept change as it is. And try not forgetting the good times. And speaking of change, there would definitely be a big change in all of our lives. After we have been dispersed in different teams, this is much worse. XM RADIO, the program that we work for has not renewed its contract to Convergys. THEY say Convergys was too expensive, but I guess it's deeper than that. Reasons that we don't and will never know.

So here we are again, starting from scratch. Trying to choose a different program to work for, again. A whole new environment, a whole new experience. New friends, new faces, new challenges. Though it may be good, I can't seem to ask myself, "What's going to happen next?"

I don't know what the future holds. I don't know what I will become in the future. Everything seems to have been all smoked up and hazy since I started to work and taste the dog-eat-dog environment. But no matter the situation is, all I know is I am destined to do something big. Something bigger than what my heart tells me.

So hang in there and watch me get it slowly. It may not be no yet, but I will surely get there.

The Diary of a Call Center Slave

Time flies.

A couple of months ago, I just started working and now look at me, I am nearly reaching my sixth month - about to be regularized and about to lose most of my co-workers. Most of them have plans of resigning. It's either they found a better job (or at least would find one) or just plain burnt out of what we usually do for customers - solve their problems and sometimes even worse. But knowing the job vacancies in the Philippines where most of the people earned a college degree, THERE IS NO BETTER JOB. JOB FAIRS offer call center employments. Nothing more. I know so, been there, done that!

In a call center world, it's normal to burst into tears. Not because of joy but frustration. It's normal to hear agents shouting and cursing because of bad calls. It's absolutely normal. A perfectly abnormal setting in the outside world is the absolute normal setting in the call center world. You are paid to be the Americans' shock absorbers. You get to be blamed, shouted at and cursed for something that you did not do. That my friend is the cost of a good paying job here in the Third World Country. We work for every single penny we get. And mind you, most of the time even more. We don't get to have that downtime and idle time where most employees get in their eight-hour-jobs. Our worktime is closely monitored, no time to socialize with co-workers and lunchbreaks are the sickest thing. We go on lunches separately and at different schedules. And no overlunches and overbreaks, otherwise, salary deduction!

In a call center world, we do almost everything. Get to answer calls, one after the other with absolutely no stop. Sometimes it's so sickening you just wished no phones were invented or phones were busted. But whichever the case is, we still would do it all over again all for the sake of money. Money that keeps the world going. Period.

(Sighs.) Gruelling as it is, my job I mean, it pays the bills. It gives me a rather convenient life. If only phonecalls could get me rich, I am now a billionaire. I might be in Carribean even as we speak tanning my butt off and feasting my eyes with men's sculpted bodies flaunting and floating on the sand beaches. But reality check, it's a harsh world. I am not one of the fortunate ones who come from a rich family. I am not bryanboy who constantly travels from one country to the other and regards his journey as just a trip from his house to Starbucks. I am not Paris Hilton whose brain floats in tequilla and goes spending my parents millions to party and be drunk all night everyday. I am not like her whose hobby is to do a sex video and get it available online just because I could not do something more. Unlike the rich and the famous, I need to work to survive. I need to work to pay for the conveniences of life and basic commodities.

Had I known I would be in this business, I should have never studied and squeezed my brains off to graduate, earn a degree and be in this mudpit.

Call Center is a good business. And I am not saying it's an easy job. Hell no!?! It takes a lot of patience to deal and make it in the business. You'll learn to smoke cigarettes (some like crack better), curse while on mute and get back to the customer with all smiles pretending you're unaffected, bitch around after a very bad call, practice the art of selective plasticism (Selective plasticism, a term I used to refer to being good to people who can influence your way up because brilliance and hardwork won't get you there!. In laymans term, sucking up to your bosses.) and to some, get a whole lot of fucking buddies. It takes a lot more if the company you're working for does not recognize your potential and your superior just milk out money from you with her butt tied to her chair doing absolutely nothing!

A lot happens in this business. But that's life - harsh, cruel and selfish. You have to set aside your ideals and principles in the meantime, go with the flow and learn the tools of the trade. That my friend is the bitter truth of the Call Center Business. Very glamorous, huh?

Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus. Homosexuals are from ...ahm...eh...ahm...?!?

When you go thru books at a bookstore, browse thru the pages and read privately on purpose since those books are so damn expensive, you browse thru the covers. And whichever has the best cover would catch your attention. It is true among all of us, but few nerds just know how to pick good books from a single glance. That's just beside the point. Anyways, do you remember the book "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" or is it the other way around? That one book that was published how many years back that distinguishes and explains the difference of men and women? Well, judging from the cover and how dainty it looks like, I am assuming (because I haven't read the book yet!)that it tries to explain the obvious. In literal translation would go like, women have vaginas and men have penises.

I don't know if I would be happy of having that book published since it tries to explain the nature of opposite sexes. Yes, it sheds some light to naive people who just couldn't seem to be sensitive enough to figure out and read between the lines. But, this is just for heterosexual people. How would somebody explain an action a homosexual does when in fact that person is a half-bred of a man and a woman in one body, emotionally or physically and vice versa. How would a book explain the nature of somebody that could not be explained yet, or so I think it couldn't.

I am not discounting the fact that the book has some value, and I would have to give it a benefit of the doubt since I have not read it yet. But if it is true that Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus, what would you call the planet that homosexuals are in?Would it going to be something like Marnus, Pluto or the planet that had been kapooshed during the infamous Big Bang?

Friendster Testimonial + Big Crush on Sam = Jealousy

Having been new with this falling in love thing, I can only imagine how a heart breaks. I just turned 23, still single. It sucks to some people, yes but it has somehow became my defense mechanism to go thru with life.

I recently had a crush, or so I thought it was. I first saw this bastard at the company's christmas party, all-groomed up but with a gargantuan apetite (in Filipino layman's terms, MATAKAW!). He was not the typical guy because he's short. I hate to site the obvious but he is really short. Short limbs, cute eyes, short limbs, nice hair, short limbs and nice smile. Since then, he caught my heart without even him knowing. A mere infatuation? I believe so.

The tables were turned when I checked his friendster and this lady made him a testimonial, like it was a big deal. I read and yeah it was mediocre. But the bad thing was this flirt guy made her a testimonial as well. It was short, sweet and nice. What bothered me the most was the last of the sentence I could not even decipher. What the hell did it mean? What the hell does this mean, and I quote, "She's an amazing girl and I am proud to have her with me." Can somebody tell me what the hell does this mean? I know that I can not compete with her since she has those gifts of puffy boobs and a VAGINA. And the bastard is a flirt! And who would compete with a VAGINA? I don't have that and I don't plan on having one! I love my PENIS hanging in between my thighs thank you very much!

I just turned 23, and the nerve of having that posted a day after my birthday was just so aggravating. Did they do that in purpose? Does he even know I exist? Or is he so damn pre-occupied flirting with this Rochelle Ann that he did not even think before he posted that!


I don't know what a heartbreak feels like but I think I have an idea. Before I stangle this poor girl, dice her into pieces and feed to the goldfish and skin her alive, can somebody explain to me what that last sentence means? Does that mean that he is very fortunate that he had the chance to know her and work with her as a colleague or he is proud to have this bitch with her as a couple? But I guess not, they're both single on their friendster profile. I just hope they're telling the truth. I will watch you two! Better be good or else, I'd beat you two to death.

"What-Ifs"

We are our own self.

We always hear this advice from successful people especially from personalities who eventually made their mark in their respective fields. For some reason they just make it easier to believe, and say it for that matter. They always say to be comfortable with your own skin, you are what you are and among those remarks of wisdom. They tell us to be us and not be someone else.

In a world, where standards of beauty rely on race and social constructs, we will never be comfortable in our own vessel, unless everything in the world is created equal and flawless. We will only be our own self if all peoples regard each race as equal as they are.

We have a lot of "what-ifs" in our lives, trying to live a dream that we know will never happen and somehow fulfill a fantasy we know we can never attain in our lifetime. Our "what-ifs" give us a much more reason to believe in ourselves. Our "what-ifs" make us who we are. These keep us going in a world full of communal chaos and splashes of deceits. Our "what-ifs" give us an opportunity to experiment and provide an scapegoat for ourselves, creating a prism of our different selves or would-be personalities.

Some may never accept or embrace their race or denounce who they are, but we will come to terms with our thoughts and our selves, thus keeping us sane and grounded. We will somehow deal with our "what-ifs" and so-called inferiorities, in time. Change does not happen overnight, it is a process.

Until it happens, fire up the hopes of our "what-ifs" and continue with the journey of our so-called-life.

A Difference Between Work And A Laundromat

Have you ever felt so bummed you could just not do anything aside from work? Have you felt that sudden urge to let go and resign to relieve yourself of your work duties and end it all? I have, but not everyday.

Working is the same as doing your own laundry, washing and wearing your clothes every once in a while. You feel no definite satisfaction other than the company of friends and colleagues. In doing the laundry and having a work, one follows a step by step procedure, a procedure only different in maybe one or two steps.

In doing the laundry, you wear the clothes first, take them off, soak them with a detergent, put them in the washing machine and then rinse. Well, same goes when you have work. You go to work directly from bed, take a bath but not necessary a detergant but a bath soap or better, damp dry your body and put whatever lotion or any beauty secret you're zealotously hooked with and get an office outfit and, voila, you're ready to go to work. There may have been changes in the steps to follow, but, nevertheless, same in nature.

The only thing noticeable and distinct is in doing a laundry, you can stop at anytime you want. You can suspend and put your life behind you and you could do it after suspension. Well, at work, when you resign, you do things again. You start from scratch and you're back from square one. It doesn't matter if you have removed the stains and marks of mishaps and achieved triumph in oh-so-little-time. Every work, every job, needs a time to prove one's self and be ahead of everyone, if possible.

Somebody's somebody

I was doing my own laundry at this time when I got to ponder on something that hasn't crossed my mind in my lifetime yet. This would be the day of my awakening, awakening of my adult state of mind and views with matters of love and soulmate?

When I try to view the concept of love, I could not help but view the world, too. Getting in love is just like a game of hope. A game of luck. Majority of people get to fall in and out of love so many times in their lifetime before they get to find the one and get in love all over again. It's like a vicious cycle. A cycle we don't know when to end. A cycle of love and hate and recovery. I could not decipher how two people get to meet and eventually click, and only to find out later that they are better off living their separate lives. Or, a person loving someone that doesn't love that person back. I mean, yes, there will always be that animal behavoir, that pheromone scent to mark the territory when it comes to love and partners. It's a given. But how does two individuals get to meet and find their opposite halves with that exact same feeling of love for one another? In a world where people interact with people, is there such a thing as finding a soulmate? Or is this term as vague as finding a needle in a haystack, or even worse, finding you're own guiding star amidst the galaxies?

Is finding a soulmate as good as finding somebody within your territory? Or is finding one bigger than that concept? We get to meet people within our boundaries, within our comfort zones. There might be times that we get to meet and have some wild encounters outside our circle of friends but that's just a rare ocassion. And if that's the case, is finding a somebody's somebody an obligation or does it come in God's time? Lucky are the people who got hold of their opposite halves in so little time from far away places.

But when will that prince charming climb that tower and rescue you if he doesn't even know which tower in the world he should climb to to find and give his kiss away? For how long will that princess have to wait staying in that encaged and isolated confinement for his prince to climb that filthy tower? Are fairy tales bound to remain on books and children's stories and leave men and women hopefuls for their somebody's somebody?

Is humanity bound to its predestined doom? Or is the concept so intricate and perfect that each one of us has that distinct opposite that looks for us too, no matter how far we are fom them. Does it matter if we're here from the Philippines and they're there in Timbuktu or Antarctica or will they eventually find their way to us?

I guess that question is, how long will we have to wait?Better yet, how long will we have to be hopeful for our knights in shining armor or our damsells in distress? Will we wait til the princes' penises could no longer raise their flags and squirt their sperms to the so called fallopian tubes? Will we wait til the damsels' egg cells become raisins and imperfect for fertilization and reach that menopausal stage and literally run out of egg cells?

I guess what I am saying is, how are we sure that the love that we have now is really meant for that somebody when in fact we have so much unchartered territories to discover and unravel? Is that love our single and only option to not lose hope in finding that somebody for us? Is that how we find our own somebody's somebody?

Only When I Sleep

Everyday I try to look for you,
Day by day I wait and long for you.
To be the sunshine of my night,
The star of my barren darkness.

You make my heart pound faster,
You make it smile like no other.
Knight you are in my life.
You're mine, but only when I sleep.

The smile, the hair and the whole demeanor,
Your scent makes me sigh, makes me soar.
The chinky eyes that sparkle like twin stars,
You're mine, but only when I sleep.

Time flies and love grows,
From nothing to simple infatuation,
I think this love is growing,
Love that is splendid but painstakingly impossible.

One of the days...

Still at work today... My third day of the five-day work-week. Same old, same old. Still hanging, but not getting anywhere. I really don't know where the wind would take me. So I don't want to make a long-term goal for myself.

I am at the point of my almost-mid-life crisis. I tend to compare myself to friends who have successfully penetrated and made a name for themselves on their respective fields. I never envied them. Envy is not in my vocabulary, at least not yet.

I am not one of the people who turns yellow and curse successful people. It is their choice to make, it is their dream. Success as it is, is a complex thing. Degrees of success vary with different kinds of people. Success for one may not necessarily be success for others. We define our "it". We define "it".

I have had success in my studies and it happenned so fast I didn't know it was "it" already. I made my mark and got it on my own. I guess in work, that's a different story. I have yet to take a hold of it. I am in my own state, my own ground. Not in a rush though, just on a look-out. Possibilities are endless, and in a world full of possibilities, nothing seems to be impossible.

I just have to be in that perfect time and perfect place. Impossible, ahm, yes, but do-able.

You don't know how much I am loving my job right now!!!

On my way to work earlier this evening (which by the way was around 10:30PM), I was not feeling it. I was not in the mood whatsoever to work and be a phone slave for eight hours. I just came from my days off, so it was understandable that I might have been experiencing a post-day-off experience. Well, let's just say there was nothing to anticipate now. There would be nobody to lighten up my woozy night. There would be nothing to anticipate. Absolutely nothing.

But as they say, when it rains, it pours. So when things go bad, they would really go bad. When things are otherwise, they're better, big time. On our way up to set-up our work station, pull up the systems we used, etc., we got an unexpected news. That information came from our friends who were supposedly taking in calls already for the ever-so-good program, the satellite radio. Our systems are down, not much calls. With no calls, that would mean no stress for us, especially me as I have been stressed out in dealing with customers who are basically devil incarnates, haha. Pun intended!

Breaktime...I have gone down with a friend, Dea. No inspiration still. And newsflash...Calls are normal again. So we are paid on what we are worth for, or even less. Time to do the carabao labor again, and start plowing the fields for productivity. Have to be that employee that does his best again and pretend every bit of my work is just a walk in the park, hehe.

Time to go to work. But anyhow, you don't know how much I am loving my work right now! Even for one bit, downtime was fun and just bonding with my colleagues are the best part of this experience.