Even the softest of hues can make a big difference.

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Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Dream On

Had the a weird but interesting dream ever last night, due largely to the weird combination of people in it. It went like this:

Ms. X got excited when she heard Mr. Y was arriving from a not-so-far-away land. She went and visited Mr. Y at his house, which turned out to be just a major avenue from Ms. X's own real-life house. (Note: Ms. X doesn't really know where Mr. Y really lives in reality but that's neither here nor there.)

When she got there, she saw Mr. Y on a gurney, with a white blanket covering the lower portion of his body. Mr. Y was tired from the flight and Ms. X's heart did two things at once: jumped for joy at the sight of Mr. Y and broke down upon seeing him in that state.

Mr. Y held out his hand to Ms. X and Ms. X went to hold on to him and... GAH!

"Why are your fingers so short and stout?!? You're not that fat! So does that mean your thingamajig is also short and... well, icky-looking?!?", Ms. X exclaimed, probably because one loses one's tact in the dreamworld.

Mr. Y replied, "No. Just don't think about them too much and hold me. Once you hold me, everything will be okay. And if you kiss me, then my fingers would become long and beautiful and smooth and everything you want them to be. As well as another part-of-interest in my anatomy."

Comforted with these lines, Ms. X leaned down for a kiss and... blank. I couldn't remember if they kissed or not. But the next scene was as follows:

Four friends of Ms. X arrived. They were: Mr. C, the high school classmate; Ms. P, the childish friend, Ms. T, who just followed the others around and did not bother to utter a single word; and Ms. R, the hyper friend. They pulled Ms. X out of the kiss or whatever-it-was-that-wasn't-a-kiss and told her she'd be found if she's not careful.

Some people, according to the Friends, are arriving that day and Ms. X must hide. So off the Friends with Ms. X went - to the subway, where Ms. R confronted a Japanese looking ex boyfriend with a girl who looked like a tramp wearing a college uniform. Ms. X stopped the (emotionally) painful ordeal and led the rest through and out of the subway, plotting her next meeting with Mr. Y later that day.

She remembered they promised to meet at dawn. At the condo of Mr. Y. They will sleep together and snuggle in the morning until it will be time for them to part.

They will hide from everyone else.

And then sunshine broke through the windows.

Really. And the dream was over.

And, whuuutttt? The people in the dream did not know each other. Well, at least not the others. They only had Ms. X in common. And everything else was really fantastical.

But entertaining. Hmmm... Shriveled fingers and thingamajigs? *shudder* nightmare.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

How bout a round of applause? A standing ovation?

My life is one big performance.

No matter how sad the day gets, how broken and wounded I am, once the curtain opens and the orchestra plays, I have to smile and be perfect. Role-playing at its longest, I'd like to think of it. But the performance must be so great to fool the rest of the world, even my own self.

It all started when I was a little girl. I was compelled to act like a grown-up even when I was in kindergarten. They dressed me up in bigger girls' clothes and made me walk and talk like a grade schooler. I had to be perfect in elocution, in theater. I had to be responsible. No playing allowed, and so I didn't have a lot of friends. They forbid me to go out of our townhouse then. I could read as many books as I wanted. But I just wanted to play.

I also wanted to be my father's daughter. But as circumstances would have it, I wasnt fit to play that role.

And now, now that I've grown up, they expect me to play the happy, perfect lawyer. To borrow the words of someone, "wear your happy face. I do not want others to see your sad face." and it's playacting once more.

People aren't interested in my problems. Why would they be? But I had expected at least the closest people to me to be comforting, to hold my hand as I fight the forces which weigh me down. Instead, they tell me to put on a show so no one can see how scarred I really am.

They don't even ask me why. They just want me to cover things up.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Monday, November 22, 2010

Doors



Slide and step inside
go through these japanese doors:
but none lies beyond.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Shelves!

Hah. As promised, my things are now organized, thanks to my new shelves. =)

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

University of the Philippines, revisited

I started to jog regularly, as part of my training program for The Bull Runner's second Dream Marathon. Sometimes, I run in Makati. Other times, I run in my head (especially during those days when the rain just won't stop). 




UP naming mahal
But on the best days, I go back to my collegiate alma mater and join the other joggers, skaters, students, employees, and... just everybody, around the oval (or at UP's backstreets when I'm with another runner).


Off the trail



Shades of life
The campus still feels like home. Driving along University Avenue, towards the Oblation, you feel UP's arms welcoming you into its folds. I'd felt these arms even back when I was in grade school and passing through UP in my schoolbus. 




And even when I've already graduated from the University, I always go back to walk...


Through the lagoon, to the unknown




 think, pass the time...




Lovers
Picnic




 and now, to run.


Run, blue-man! Run!
Hingal
My trail would frequently just be round the academic oval. Two times, for short runs. More, for longer ones. Although there would be times when I would stray from my usual path and go elsewhere - but still within the campus.
The Carillon
Peeking from behind





This time, though, I did not go as a runner. I went... to just walk, taking pictures whenever the light or scene interested me. 


Paghabi




Leave your bikes behind


Sunset







Come away, come away...

Skipper

First taste: no aftertaste

First taste of Manila (no aftertaste!) on Twitpic

So this is how Manila (beer - light) tastes like...

Monday, November 15, 2010

Hide and Seek

Cichlids are very interesting fish. They're active and colorful; you can spend hours just watching them and not get bored.

Problem is, they tend to fight with each other. A LOT. So at the end of a short period of time, you're left with the alpha male or female. And him/her alone.

I started with about 8 fish in a pretty big tank. Then I was down to 1.

Her name's Coldplay. And yes, she's yellow.Yellow on Twitpic

The Boi also had an aquarium filled with cichlids. Had is the operative word since he finally had it with his little kids behaving like they're on Survivor. So he gave his Alpha Male to me, with the hope that Coldplay, my Alpha Female, and his Alpha Male, which I had baptized Elvis, will bond over time.

But then Elvis, ever the shy kid, just spends his time hiding. Hide and Seek on Twitpic

Ahh. Kids.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Bee Heroic

Bumblebee 

Metropolitan hero directs cars to go straight

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

2 sides

2 sides.
Yin and yang.
The good, the bad.

Even the road to w... on Twitpic
2 sides.
Yin and yang.
The good, the bad.

Even the road to work
just cannot decide.

I might as well
plant my feet
squarely
on either divides.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Growing Up


They pried the flip-flops
and sneakers
off my feet
and told me to look pretty.
The shoes pinch.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Flagged Down

Share photos on twitter with Twitpic

Series: Pic-a-Day

My friend, Twyla and I agreed to post at least one photo a day starting... well, we were supposed to have started a couple of weeks ago. But of course, I've only come around to actually posting a photo (at least one) today.

Since I've been at the office since the crack of dawn, I decided to take a picture of my office room, or more specifically, my desk. Take note, we just moved from the previous office so my things are still a mess.

Also, the architect and his team still have not installed my sidetable, shelves, what-nots, so all my stuff are on my desk (save for some books and case binders which were on my visitor's chair, on the floor, and behind my chair.


Okay, so my shawl is draped over the back of my chair. (Hmm... I should have a coat hanger of sorts for my stuff.)


You're looking at (L-R): landline, iMac (and behind my iMac, partly hidden are my makeup kit, charger pouch, toothpaste, toothbrush, mascara, my trusty Blackberry, hairbrush, notepads, flags, and calling cards), small bottle of lotion, mineral foundation, Nokia mobile phone, earphones, wireless keyboard, wireless mouse (which was mostly hidden by my coffee mug), coffee!!!, printer, eyeglasses case, omelet (in a clear microwavable container), stapler, pens/pencils/highlighters/post-its, cologne spray (which isn't at all visible in this pic), alcohol, and mints in a white plastic container.

(Just you wait when I get my shelves and sidetable. My desk would then be all cleared up. Hmmph!

Monday, September 27, 2010

after changes we are more or less the same

There was something about today that called for some Simon & Garfunkel. I heeded the call and readied my playlist of their songs, as well as those as performed by other artists.

Here's one of the latter.


S&G's Sound of Silence, as performed by Yao Si Ting

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Musings as i eat my mixed meat gyro

The world is such a small place for us: we are connected to each other more closely than we could ever imagine.

But it is still a big, big world for travelers. And we long to make that connection with other people, like us or with those we think wew do not share any similarities with,sooner than later.

We long to experience those sights and sounds wwe just normally see on television or ad about in travelbooks, novels, or even in magazines.

And we long to befriend those from our cultures.

Ah. So much to see! So much to do! Let's start now, why don't we?

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Walking Around Makati City at 6 AM

When you're hounded by a thousand questions and distracted by a hundred visions, take a deep breath and go another way.

You might have worked too hard or ate too much junk food. You might have had more than your fair share of idle time, so much so that the novel in your head has grown more side stories than Steven Spielberg could ever direct in his lifetime. You might have slept more than you needed to.

Sleep is restful but your body can only take so much. You have to get up and go. (So, just get up and go.) Trod down that nearby but unknown path. Who knows, you might just step on a dime. Or a peso.

There is more to your life than just your comfortable routines. Change it up a bit. From the parking slot in the basement of your office building, you normally go up to your floor, unlock your office door, turn on all the lights, the air conditioning, and the water dispenser. You make your own coffee and spend the rest of the day in front of your iMac with all the documents you have to read and those you still have to write, neatly stacked on the left side of your desk. Everyday and always.

But today, get up and go. (Yes, just get up and go.)

Instead of immediately making your coffee, go down the elevator and walk around the central business district. Take the exit at the back of your building and walk towards the convenience store at the next corner. And pass it. Go to the bank a stone's throw from the store, stop, and look around you.

Breathe. It might not be as clean as the mountain air you love but it'll do. At 6AM, a breath of Makati Air will be just as fresh and sweet.

Put your hands in your dress pockets and amble about as if you're just a shadow along the sidewalk. Take notice of the people you see milling about: the call center agents who probably are on their coffeebreak, the security guards, the early birds like you who either have too much work to do in their respective offices or just do not want to stay home. They had chosen to have their lives revolve around their office spaces with the dream of realizing their dreams one day, or maybe with the hope of drowning out their glaring problems with family.

But not you. You're here because you had chosen to take a different path today. You had chosen to go the other way. You are here to walk.

Walking brings relief to a tired soul. It makes you smile in spite of all the questions in your head. You put a happy ending to your novel and maybe in time, you'd start a new one. But not now.

Now you're in cloud 9. Just at the intersection of Leviste and Sedeño, and going where the sidewalk leads you.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

How very cynical.

‎"He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong."
-W.H. Auden, Funeral Blues


But the first three lines are beautiful.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Friday, September 10, 2010

Flashback

I try to forget the cruelty, the vile deeds, the hypocrisy in your ways -- but reality's too sneaky: it comes up whenever we least expect it to.

At that one moment, I let my guard down and there, there it was. It crept into my head and ruined every chance I had of ending the night in peace.

Now, I am reminded of the way you hid things from us, your supposed family, your lies, your dastardly actions. You ruined things for me. You destroyed every respect I had for you: I could never look you in the eye again and say that you DO NOT creep me out, disgust me, or disappoint me. I could never take your words as truth ever again.

Everything you would say is presumed to be lies unless proven - by proof beyond reasonable doubt - otherwise.

And I am reminded of the parasites that cling to your every limb. Those who are just waiting for the dole out. And I plummet to an all-time low.

Yes, I may despise you for everything that you did and did not do to and for me. But, I tell you: I am not stupid enough to let go and waive my rights. It's not actually what you think.

I am proud to say that it is not the value of the rights I seek to fight for. It is deliverance for own self.

And I will bring you and the parasites around you your very own judgment.

So even if it irritates me, I will move in your midst to see to it that MY own ends meet. Revenge and the last laugh will be mine.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

cold feet

I will don my white dress tomorrow,
secretly, until the evening bell chimes
signaling the start of the ball.
I wonder if it will fit:
the couturier did not see
two peanut butter sandwiches a day coming
when she made the adjustments.

And I will have to walk
amid all the well-dressed people;
and in the bejeweled
dainty silver shoes I've hesitantly picked out,
I am bound to falter
and fall flat on my face
in front of two hundred or so guests,
more than half of whom
I do not really know.

Once it is all over,
I would have been seen by all of them
and the secret would be no more,
and the girl playing dress-up
in the white dress will be immortalized
in photographs, bound to haunt me
for the rest of my life.

Something is bound to go wrong.
But I must be careful
not to miss a step.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Dare.

Step out
onto the concrete pavement,
with its tiny cracks figured about

as vines

beneath your boring, but proper shoes.
This is not Ireland
nor Africa,

not Japan

where you long to be at this moment.
This is your place in the world
and though you can escape it

for a time,

inevitability brings you back.
If you were only a daring gypsy,
you would have cleaned out your closet

and your life

a week ago
and floated towards the exciting unknown
and beyond

independence's doorstep.

Ah. If only you were that brave
and free-spirited.
But you let yourself

be shackled

onto tradition and culture,
onto the dregs of your roots that people call "family",
which you'd rather call

"forced history".

You know that if you take a moment to stand on the pavement
and feel the people and time go by,
your feet and conviction would take you

to where you long to be.

With a little money and big dreams,
both fanatical and highly plausible,
you can survive out there.

Better.

You will be happier.
So,
will you now

step out?

If it were only as easy
as lighting a cigarette
puffing,
and letting the warmth
intoxicate you;
If it were only as wispy
as the smoke
that disappears
right before your very own
dazed eyes;



then it - and you -
would have been
very easy
to put
out.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Miles






You bring colour to my world
even from far, far away;
unknowingly.

Why?

The Quiet World

-Jeffrey McDaniel

In an effort to get people to look
into each other’s eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn’t respond,
I know she’s used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.

withdrawal

Okay. After my last post, I realized I am too hooked on J-drama. Will cut off the programming starting this minute.

(As for Hiro.... he's not as easy to cut off. I must remember the following: he's married; he's a celebrity; he's miles and miles away; he doesn't and will never know I exist. Oh, and come on!!! I don't even crush on the celebrities in my own country!)

Okay. So henceforth, it will be a review of the corporate code, articles on asset protection trusts, reality shows, Oprah, maybe some un-addictive chick lits to bore myself to death, and ... some gym time.

Regular programming coming up!

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Butler woes

That's it?!? That's it?!? What?!?

You have got to be kidding me. That was supposed to be the "Last Kiss", as stated in the episode title? That was their first kiss! And, what? It's also supposed to be their last; otherwise, why would it be entitled "The Last Kiss"?!?

Last kiss as butler and his lady because thereafter they'll be kissing as lovers? Last kiss EVER because of the law? WHAT?!? What kind of ending is that?!?

Horrible! Terrible!

Can somebody kick some sense into the director/s and the screenwriter/s?!? I need a continuation, special episode, succeeding episode, part two, another ending ---- whatever they can give me ---- of Mei-chan no Shitsuji!

They could just make a special episode wherein Izumi, as the Lucia-sama, abolishes the rule against lady-butler relationships and so Mei-san and Rihito can have the usual blah-blah DEFINITE happy ending.

Ugh. That one kiss was simply NOT enough. Come on! I mean, COME ON! You can't do this to me! Give me a definite ending or else I will be painting all sorts of other endings in my head all day and all night! I don't want that! The world does not want that (butterfly effect, remember?)!

Gahd! She did not even get to close her eyes when the kiss happened! Another scene! Another chance! Another episode, at least!!!

I beg you... (I could do a rain dance... or a "give-me-another-episode-for-that-Japanese-drama dance". Anything!)

Or, you can just ship Rihito to me. With his butler's garb, or without. I'm not that picky.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

communication

Here's me talking to you. Here, where you couldn't blurrblurrblurr me when i start to reason out.

I don't mind it when you tell me my hair is ugly. Or that my dress is not in style. But why the double standards when I try to turn the tables on you?

You say it's because you're a man and I say, so what? Just because you're a man doesn't mean you can be a total slob and, much less, be a judge of what's ugly and what's hot on me.

You assume all things about me: that I think this and I think that. That my intention was this and my intention was that.

I don't even mind that you try to impress your thoughts upon me. I know you're just trying to help. But, please, give me room to have my own perceptions also. I am merely human. I have opinions about all sorts of things. And although you won't agree with most of them, they're my opinions nonetheless. I will ask for your opinions (and I do) when I feel you'd know better.

This does not mean I love you less. I'm just tired of just taking it all in without saying what I feel. I do not try to change you. Please do not try to change me also, not even my laughter.

This is me: I laugh out loud. I am very candid. I do not want to change or suppress my laughter because you think it is not a woman's laughter. Wake up. I am a woman, yet I have this big, hearty laugh.

I can't change everything you want me to change. And I do not want to.

I won't do everything you want me to do. I am not a dummy. Please respect that.

So when you start telling me I think this and that and that even though I'm saying this and that, what I really mean is this and that, then be prepared to be treated like that also. It's not fair that you are the only one who can do all these things and get away with it. We are equals. Please recognize that.

So, here's me, just telling you what's on my mind. Here, where you cannot interrupt me or make me feel guilty for thinking and saying all those things.

I hope someday soon you'd read this.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

i put the cross on the roads

I never believed one arrives at a crossroad by chance.

Our steps are our own. And even if we say that our eyes were blindfolded as we walked, it was still our choice to walk to whichever direction we did.

So let us not blame chance for confusing us. We brought this upon ourselves.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

walk my thoughts

I'm fascinated again with 9 Crimes.

I want a balloon.

The right time and THE right time

The clock strikes 12. The alarm rings.

Lunch. Break-time. An excuse to leave your desk - legitimately.

Yet you sit there, unmoving, not waiting for anything at all. You're just... wondering at how much difference it can make. It. No one knows really what it is. For you, it is a lot of things. And a lot of things, converged at one place, at one time, can surely make a great difference.

People mill all around you. They oddly stare at you, wondering why you're left there, contemplating. The clock had struck 12 already, after all.

Yet you stay.

The clock strikes 12. The alarm rings.

Cinderella story. Curfew. Grounding opportunities when you're not home by then.

But that was past, and now, the party has just begun. You're a loser if you go home before then. So to save face, you endure a couple more minutes of grinding, loud music and rounds of tequila shots.

Does this bother you? No. Not quite. You just stare quietly ahead. Looking, but not really seeing the other people. Is it indifference or haughtiness, others ask. You know it may be both, but not quite both.

Time changes everything. And how difference time makes!

The clock has struck 12. It has set things and people into motion. But then again, it is not your clock.

So you stay.

Monday, April 26, 2010

the special days

I got cast in a play, in the lead role of "The Pussycat". It was a big day for me: "The Owl" was supposed to kiss me in front of the whole world. I practiced day and night for this moment. I made sure to wear my pretty white and red dress under my paper pussycat costume. I perfected my crawl.

But you weren't there to applaud me.

I graduated from Kindergarten today, with a bunch of awards under my arms. I delivered a speech in front of the whole world, in a white satin dress my nanny and your secretary picked out. I even wore my hair down. For hours, I practiced my speech in front of the mirror, so that I would not choke on my lines. You would be proud, definitely.

But, oh, you weren't there.

I turned 10 today - I'm practically an adult! I'd been very good: performing exceptionally in my school work, talented to boot, and well-liked by my teachers (not exactly by my peers, but they do not give out the grades anyway so who cares?). You told my nanny to prepare a big bash at the school for me, just like the one I had last year, and the year before that, and the year before that... The principal even agreed to have classes suspended. I wondered what time you'd come.

But you couldn't make it. So you sent Jollibee instead.

I graduated from grade school today. Salutatorian. Impressive, huh? I got a lot of other awards too.

But I wasn't the valedictorian so only my cousin and his wife would attend the rites.

I graduated from high school today. I was the salutatorian, yet again. I was not expecting you so I invited my cousin instead. He showed up and was really proud of me.

You showed up, too, but you were still not happy since I was only the salutatorian. My cousin had persuaded you to come and since he's your favorite nephew, you came. But you left early - after you told me that second honors will never be good enough.

I graduated from college today. With no honors and only one medal. I invited my friends and my cousins and their families. I did not invite you at all. But my thesis partner did. Funny that you even showed up at all. You might be getting soft. I invited the one person I knew who'd annoy the hell out of you. And it worked. We did not talk the entire time. We did not even ride together - to my graduation and to the restaurant and back to our house. I pretended you were not there, except to pay the bill. You've been doing that to me ever since, haven't you?

And so, you were not there. Except to pay the bill.

I graduated from law school today! Such a great accomplishment on my part. I invited you since this was your dream for me. You debated with yourself rather endlessly on whether you'll attend or not. It was only a couple of days before the actual graduation day that you finally decided you would. It was on graduation day itself that I actually realized you really really would. And you were smiling this time, especially when you walked up the stage with "the person who had been with me through the best and worst days of my life for more than two years now".

It was the happiest day of my life, having the two of you on the stage with me.

I passed the bar today! We passed the bar today! After getting the news, I texted you. You called. I was smiling from ear to ear. But, wait... You had a disappointed tone. No, I did not top. No, this was not the official announcement yet. Yes, I'm sure I did not top or else they would have told me. Yes, I'm actually happy. Shouldn't we all be? *Click.*

No congratulations. Even up to this day. Passing was not enough to make you happy.

I'll take the oath on Wednesday. I have two tickets for you and your wife. Yes, the car's all set and the driver is as you requested. But, wait... Oh, the preparations are all for me. How sweet. So that I won't have to drive alone. 'Cause you can't come on Wednesday since you'll already be here on Tuesday for a meeting. Naturally, you can't stay for another day since it's campaign period. Of course, a board meeting is much more important than the oath taking of your only daughter who's going to be a lawyer now.

Of course, you wouldn't be here. Of course.

*Pause*


When the time comes for me to wed (if it ever does come), I would practice walking down the aisle by myself. When the time comes for me to give birth to my first, second, or even third child, I would not expect all of her granddads to be there, unless I'd want to wait for Hell to freeze over.

I'll build my own family and I promise to be there for my children during the good, better, best and bad, worse, and worst times of their lives (no, I would not deny my own future children of their parents). I will be happy with and among the people who would gladly be there for and with me. I will make these things (and more) happen. I will be.

Of course.
(I wouldn't have expected otherwise.)

Sunday, March 28, 2010

crossroads

i don't know what to do with my life.

oh no.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

far from the edge

The wait has been known to boggle the mind,
make everyone insane,
drive people to the edge -
or even off it.

Mercily,
my feet is still firmly planted
in the center of sanity.
I laugh more, yes,
but it is not one of despair
nor of lunacy.

I laugh of contentment,
though my situation is far
from perfection.
It just feels good to laugh
and live like life's a dream.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Rantings of the Employed

A lot of people complain about their superiors - the latter's unreasonable tendencies and inconsiderate demands. They rant about how they are fed up with their jobs. They promise that they will definitely, definitely quit soon and look for other employment opportunities where they could spread their wings and fly and be happy and all sorts of crap.

Let me join that roster.

Yes, I hate my superiors. Don't get me wrong, though. I don't hate all of them but just a couple. And like most of dissatisfied employees (let me stress that I am not an employee, by the way), I claim to have valid reasons for my spite.

Let us discuss these superiors one by one.

Superior No. 1:Mr. Loveless North-South Pole
He calls in the wee hours of the morning and late at night to order you around. He does not have any inkling as to what "holy day of obligation", "family day", "rest day" mean. He believes that everyday must be devoted to his whims and wishes.

While it is completely valid to make someone under you to do a job or perform a task preferably within the bounds of that person's job description, that does not give the superior ultimate hold over his/her employee. Unfortunately, Mr. Loveless North-South Pole does not realize that.

He crosses every boundary available to mankind. He orders the office messenger to do personal chores for him. He does not care whether you are at the church on a Sunday (your rest day): you are to go to a particular office and guard the activities which are being done a mile or more away - and you have to do that without any telescopes or zooming contraptions at that. Once you point that measly fact out, you'd get a shout or two from him for your idiotic observation.

He makes you do everything he can think of, without regard as to what really is important and necessary. He expects you to be in two, three, or four places at the same time and if you even protest that splicing yourself will not be a very nice sight to behold, you will be treated to a scornful look and a high-pitched sermon about the important of being in two, three, four places at the same time. His word is the law. (Though it rarely ever makes sense. But that's just your opinion, so it doesn't count.)

Superior No. 2: Mr. Forgetful Breacher

Such an ordinary name for an extraordinarily forgetful man. Yes, he tends to forget things. Often. But, noticeably, he only forgets those items and details which would be beneficial to you and harmful or offensive to his cause. Yes, he wants to downplay your rights and establisheshis idea of howyour rights should be. He calls the shots. He makes your rights. He decides what is best for you. After all, he should know best, being the manager and all.

And he conveniently forgets your agreement. Yes, he is no man of his word. He denies you every point that you both have agreed upon. He denies the existence of any agreement whatsoever between the two of you. He breaches your contract by substituting his template of an agreement for the original contract. In the end, he will be thoroughly benefited. In the end, you are left clutching the remnants of your violated contract wondering what the hell happened and who the hell is this monstrous, wealthy but selfish person before you who is presently pretending you do not exist.


So these are the two monstrosities who are ruining my days and giving me cause to complain and rant and threaten to quit my work. (Oh, and they also fuel my desire to bitch-slap them to my heart's content.)

They are the reason why I do not enjoy working anymore. If not for the other inhabitants of our simple workplace, I would have done a Ruffa Gutierez. But unlike Ruffa G., I do not have the benefit of another employment offer, which will save my hide and ego.

So instead of going hungry and succumbing to mendicancy, I tolerate these vile prejudices against my persona. And I swear to myself that time will come when these monstrous superiors will kiss. my. feet.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Ode to Paranoia

You hug me:
you want to stay.
I breathe in your intoxicating perfume:
I know it will stay in my system for a while,
for a while.

I'm fighting the urge to keep you -
you are bad for me
but I feel safer with you around.
You keep me safe;
you keep me sane

or insane? As I ponder,
you hug me some more.
Too tightly,
as if you are begging me
to listen to your logic.
And I am listening,
though you might be bad for me.

I fall silent
and inhale the reality you bring;
you loosen your hold and Hope springs.
You stand beside each other
and will me to choose.

And I can't.
It would have been easier
if one of you fought for me -
harder than the other.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

And I choose
neither
and both.
I hold my ground
and wait for reality.