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 17, 2010
Thursday, June 3, 2010
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.
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.)
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
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.
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.
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.
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