Drool

I left work early today so I could rush home and watch American Idol. Haha. I know you would too. I was caught up in a tad bit of traffic so I got to the Sucat SLEX exit at about 5 PM already.

When I was two minutes away from home, Anna texted me:

I jst fell in l0ve with katharine even m0re. U wil die.

I floored the gas, scrambled over the fence (okay, just a figure of speech), ran up the stairs and struggled to turn on the stupid TV.

And I saw her. And I died. Even it was just the last five seconds of the show before the commercial break. I just simply died.

I watched the rest of the show (Elliot was good!) just to get to see the recap.

And I saw her. And I died a violent death. My jaw dropped and I literally drooled. Why, oh why, Katharine McPhee, do you have to be like that?

Okay, I will go download the episode torrent now. ktnx.

* * *

On a totally unrelated note, check this out. I found it interesting.

Mourning Period's Over

(Actually, Cebu pa lang I was muttering to myself that the mourning period should be over. But it's only now that I'm actually starting to feel it.)

I've never felt this free and hopeful before.

I hope this eventually ends in something actually worth hoping for.

At the very least, I hope this feeling lasts long. Sawa na ako sa dating gawi.

Random Realizations # 2 (and My First Day on the Job)

Okay, I got home from an inuman at 1 A.M. last night in a very... lonely, I guess... mood. But it was all good. The sucky thing was that I couldn't get myself to sleep. I read a book for a couple of hours, then lay awake and thought about stuff. I finally got to sleep at around 4 A.M. And I dreamt.

* * *

Sometimes all it takes for a person to spend years hoping is just one little phrase, like, You know what, I have this feeling that no matter what happens to us after this, we're still going to get together in the end. Even if you know the other person probably didn't mean it.

But what if she did? What if it can still happen again?

This sucks.

* * *

I had to wake up at 5:30 because it was the first day of my internship at Unilever, and I had to be at the office before 7:30. So yeah, I only got an hour or so of sleep and I had a tad bit of a hangover while driving to work.

* * *

Oh, and I changed the title of my blog. My head doesn't hurt as much anymore, thank heavens. So I just changed the title to something that states the obvious.

* * *

Contrary to what I said earlier, I wasn't placed in the marketing department to be a brand management intern. I was placed in a small department in the middle of Finance/Accounting and IT called W.C.E. (which means World Class Excellence, I kid you not; and the head of the W.C.E. department is called the Champion, as in World Class Excellence - Champion). As part of the W.C.E. department, I was placed in E.C.R. (which means Efficient Consumer Response), which I still don't understand completely. Acronyms galore, whoopeedoo.

It's some kind of in-house consultancy team that troubleshoots the different problems of the organization. Langiya ang daming trabaho. I have to go around the whole compound looking for the different components of the team (marketing managers, supply chain staff, accounting and finance people, and HR managers), collect data from them, and bug them to do their work. I have to make dozens of phone calls a day to different line managers. And at the end of my internship, I have to construct five bulletin boards (yes, you read me right - bulletin boards, dear Lord, have they ever heard of a website?) that would serve to monitor all the different projects by showing their monthly Key Performance Indicators (KPIs).

* * *

An illustration of corporate life:

During the latter period of the one-hour lunch break, some of my older officemates find it convenient to take 20-minute powernaps in their seats. I was just playing Solitaire on my laptop to pass the time, when a man from a nearby cubicle lets out a snore that would make Darth Vader proud.

True to the dehumanizing nature of cubicles, every single person in a 10-cubicle radius around the culprit stands up, stretches his/her neck like an ostrich, and clucks in disagreement.

Now I know how Dilbert feels. After just a single day.

* * *

Contrary to my earlier misconceptions of corporate life, it actually is kind of fun, in a sadomasochistic way. I get so much work piled up that I totally forget about everything else (which, if you know me, is actually good), and I mean everything. At this rate, if I find myself in the corporate world after graduation, I'll probably end up an overworked, stressed-out bachelor who dies of a heart attack at the age of 40.

Oh, and I get laptop privileges too. Haha. And a cubicle of my own, complete with a phone line and an e-mail address. And there's no dress code, so people go to work in casual attire every day.

And did I mention the women? Oh my Lord, chinitas, chinitas, everywhere. Do-able 20-something chinitas everywhere! AHHHH I'm in heaven. Sigh.

* * *

After an hour or so of lounging around in the reception area/lobby, my high school classmate Jude (who's in Customer Development) goes up to me and says, Chong, butas kili-kili mo.

That was my lucky pink collared shirt, dammit. The whole day I was eating, typing, and shaking hands with my upper arm stuck to my chest, lest I show my hairy armpit to the world on my corporate debut.

* * *

I wonder how I'm going to feel when all the novelty wears off. Disillusioned and disenchanted and depressed? Hopefully not. Burnt out and alone? Probably.

I am officially going through my quarter-life crisis. Care to keep me company?

* * *

I'm the type of person who can't move on without fixing problems. That's the way I am. I can never leave anything hanging, or half-done, or un-optimal.

I need to fix situations and mistakes first before I can fix myself.

That's the way I am. Please understand.

* * *

Deep down, though, I just want to be happy again.

You have no freakin' idea just how much.

Random Realizations # 1

I’ve been to Palawan, Cebu, and a mass for a dead friend recently. And yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of alone time at home too. And as usual, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Here are some of the weird things I’ve been thinking of. Okay, they’re not really that weird, I guess, just a little deeper and personal than usual.

This is going to be the first of a hopefully long series of random realizations I’m going to start posting on my blog (hence the rather unimaginative title).

* * *

My memories of high school are nothing but a black-and-white blur of stargazing sessions in Cuenca park, late-night practices for yearly inter-batch plays, LSYC retreats, phone conversations, and jam sessions. Hell, I don’t even practically remember anything that happened before Third Year anymore, which is really sad, considering that – in hindsight – that was the happier period of my life (Ignorance really IS bliss. So is idealism. They go hand-in-hand. Go figure.)

It kind of makes me wonder whether longing to get to college back then was all worth it. I mean, I was counting down the days to my graduation as early as Second Year. I thought that college would be this whole grand adventure where everything would be ideal, and fun, and perfect. Guess not.

* * *

College, on the other hand, has been a colorful montage of caffeine-infused cram sessions, drunken reverie, horrendous and impossible exams, evening swims with friends, and early morning convenience store binges after sweat-drenched parties.

But has it lived up to my expectations of it back in high school? Has it been worth the countdown and the long wait? Hell no. I’m sure you’d agree.

* * *

I, quite unfortunately, have picked the wrong course to get into. I should’ve shifted out back in first year, when I still could’ve. Sure, Management Engineering is the course where probably some of the smartest people in Ateneo are, but let’s take it for what it is – a fast track to climbing the local corporate ladder, a way to guarantee your ass a seat in a cubicle somewhere in Makati or Ortigas. This, as you probably can infer, dear reader, is just not my thing. I know it’s what some people consider the ultimate exemplar of Third-World financial security, but I’m sorry, that kind of life’s just not for me. I need to keep doing something new every few years; if not I’m going to die of sheer boredom.

A friend in my course came up to me towards the end of last semester and told me that he and some of my other friends felt really sorry for me. Sayang, he said, kasi alam kong ‘pag nasa Comm ka, tangina makaka-summa cum laude ka pa sana. Hindi ka talaga masaya sa ME no? My thoughts exactly. I have another friend in AB Comm who told me that I was actually more suited to Comm than he was. Beat that.

But yeah, it’s no use wallowing in regret, I guess.

* * *

What exactly do I want to be then?

For a time, I really, deeply wanted to be a high school teacher. I figured that I could teach Economics, Philosophy, or Math back in Zobel. I’m not really after the money, you see; I mean, I think I could easily handle a few businesses on the side to raise enough money to fund my luxuries – you know, to buy a nice European car, get to travel once a year, stuff like that. And I figured, I’d rather be a teacher and do something with some substance, you know - give the kids of the next generation something to chew on, give them renewed hope in the country, and maybe even erase the prevalent anti-poor, let’s-go-migrate-to-North-America-instead mentality, that kind of stuff. Pretty idealistic, huh? But then again, you probably already know that I’m like that.

But I don’t want to teach anymore. Let’s just say something happened that completely destroyed my perception of what I once believed to be such a noble profession. I’ll just leave it at that okay? It hurts. ktnx.

Now, I still don’t know what the hell I want to do after college. Okay, I do – I want to be like Ian-fucking-Wright (of Lonely Planet fame). Hell, that would be my dream job, getting paid to travel around the world, meeting tons of people, filming documentaries, and experiencing new cultures and learning new languages. Asa pa, chong. Never in my wildest dreams could I do that for a living; I’d be losing stuff wherever I go, forgetting to renew my passports and visas, and losing my way half the time, not to mention squandering half my money on useless shopping trips in God-knows-what-country-I-am-now. And, well, it would surely get kind of lonely doing that, huh?

So I guess I’m just stuck doing what my course trains people to do – climb the corporate ladder for a decade or two, get a hefty retirement bonus, buy a luxury car or four, buy a house in a certain high-end village in the South, settle comfortably into a retiree-cum-golf-dad lifestyle, and spend my afternoons writing my memoirs in coffee shops (which, if you come to think of it, is already exactly what I’m doing now).

* * *

I sure love enumerating stuff, huh? Commas, semicolons, and dashes galore, not to mention lots of subordinate clauses and parenthetical digressions. Deal with it, that’s the way I speak. Really – when I’m not mumbling incoherent bullshit, at least.

And yes, I’m cynical, bitter, and insecure. I’m like that. Try having all the girls you’ve cared about leave you for other men.

* * *

My next girlfriend had better love to travel, considering that I fly out to different places at least six times a year. Seriously. She’d better be up for spending whole afternoons walking around malls/commercial areas/what-have-you in exotic cities without necessarily buying anything; she’d better be game for spur-of-the-moment adventures, both big and small, in airports, train stations, ports, and bus terminals to random locations.

Okay, it doesn’t even have to be that expensive – I’m talking about spontaneous road trips to Tagaytay to watch the sun rise, or to Antipolo to gaze out on the city and the setting sun over a few drinks, or even just early evening walks around Ateneo to stargaze or watch people. Stuff like that. Yeah, I know I’m a pretty shallow person, but I just have to keep moving, experiencing new stuff. There’s just so much to see, so little time to do it.

Oh well, where are you? Haha. Hurry up and fix me. Please.

* * *

Whatever happened to,

I can give a thousand reasons
I can live a thousand lives
I know that I will always meet you
Underneath a summer sky

?

You tell me.

* * *

People seldom remember their first relationships. They’re always the ones that have to end, of the kind you get into knowing that someone better will always come along to make you forget all about it and make you believe it was nothing more than puppy love. There’s always going to be another person who’s going to come along and sweep you off your feet, and in the process make you think that your first was nothing more than an immature prick that you’re going to laugh about with your new lover. And yeah, you’re not going to remember much of that first relationship too, except for a few memorable good moments and a ton of mistakes.

Ergo, it sucks to be someone’s first boyfriend. Especially if you didn’t treat her like your first.

* * *

I was at Ponti last night. Tanginang Azzuri yan.

Oh, and Happy 420. If you know what I mean.

* * *

I’m graduating again this year, for what might be the last time in my life. My academic load is hopefully going to be relatively lighter than last year’s, so this only means one thing.

I’m going to party my poor little heart out this year.

Good News

i.

I found my iPod :) It turns out that a maid got it, and not the electrician. Needless to say, my household's less one maid.

ii.

I retained my scholarship :) My grades aren't that high, but I don't really freaking care anymore.

I texted my dad once I found out about my grades:

Me: Dad, I maintained my scholarship!
Dad: YEHEy! Thank God.

I kid you not. That was the only time I've heard him say anything like YEHEY.

iii.

And because I got to save my parents at least a hundred thousand bucks, I just might be headed to New York at the end of summer for a couple of weeks to accompany my dad for a business trip. :) :) :)

RENT, HERE I COME. HAHAHA.

But I admit that the trip's getting less and less feasible by the day. Oh well.

iv.

I finally have a sure summer internship. FYI, I turned down finance positions in GlaxoSmithKline (P500 a day) and Credit Suisse (P900 a day; WTF) just because I didn't feel like going into finance. Muchos huevos, eh? Balls of steel, baby.

But I'm going to be an assistant brand manager directly under a senior brand manager for Unilever. How freaking cool is that?

v.

And strangely enough, I'm actually enjoying my summer, different as it may be from summers of recent past. If I don't think about stuff, at least.

Escape (Part 1)

i. Amazing Race

I just woke up. I've been sleeping for over sixteen hours since I got home from Cebu yesterday afternoon. The trip home was crazy - you see, everyone else went home one day earlier (Good Friday), while I was set to go home on Black Saturday due to my booking my plane tickets separately from everyone else. This meant that I had to find my way, on my own, from Bantayan Island (where we were staying) to the airport in Mactan before 2 PM that afternoon.

7:30 AM - I woke up from a night of partying from which I got home at around 4:30 AM. I packed my bags in an hour's time, took a bath and brushed my teeth, ate breakfast, and said my farewells and thank-yous to the caretakers of the house.

8:30 AM - I took a pedicab to the pier, bought a second-class (aircon) ticket on the RORO ferry headed to Hagnaya port, planted my ass on the sticky leather seat, and slept.

10:00 AM - I woke up, walked out onto the dusty pier and into the oppressive heat, and tried to get on a vehicle to get me back to Cebu City. The first two V-Hires (10-seater vans that function much like FXs back in Manila) that came along were swarmed by people wanting to get home, and left practically five minutes after arriving. No vehicles came along for another 30 minutes, so I was left sweltering in the heat with a group of people who only understood a bit of Tagalog and English. Dili ko kasabot (did I spell it right?) apparently goes a long way; it was practically the only thing I was saying, actually. Hehe. Good thing I met this group of college students who I could actually talk with and ask directions from. A Ceres Liner (a big non-aircon bus) came along at around 10:30, and a hundred people (I kid you not) rushed it from all directions trying to get aboard using two small doors. There were kids, the elderly, and a shitload of smelly men all pushing, pulling, and shoving to get onboard; I tried unsuccessfully (with my two huge daypacks and my water bag) to grab hold of the door railing to pull myself onto the bus, but someone always managed to pull it away.

10:30 AM - Another Ceres Liner came along, and the same thing happened. This time I managed to be one of the first ones to grab on to the railing and consequently managed to secure a seat by paying some porter cum seat-grabber 20 pesos.

10:41 AM - Yes, at exactly 10:41, the bus set off for Cebu City. What's ironic was that an aircon Ceres Liner pulled up just as we were about to leave. Damn. Anyway, the fare was 50 pesos. I was seated beside a man in his late 30s wearing a blue and white jacket with "Ermil's Dried Fish Business" written on it. A few meters ahead of me, seated right behind the driver and staring at me the whole time, was a dirty-looking native gay guy wearing bubuyog shades. Right beside me, squeezed into the aisle, was a 15-year old fat girl trying hard to dress like a Sex Bomb Girl (before you go on about how unchivalrous I was for not offering her my seat, please note that I couldn't even stand up, and that I hadn't had enough sleep yet); right in front of her was her mom, who apparently inspired her outfit. Damn, right? Just goes to prove that public transport is crazy no matter where you go in the Philippines. I was so freaking tired so I just fell asleep for most of the trip, waking up every once in a while to see the gay guy staring at me.

2:00 PM - We arrived at SM Cebu, the final stop of the bus. I scrambled off the bus and ran to the terminal to get a cab. The taxi driver kept speaking to me in Cebuano until I managed to get off a Dili ko kasabot, Tagalog lang! and then he continued his stories in Tagalog, punctuating his sentences with short spits of phlegm flying out the window.

2:18 PM - I arrived at the airport, checked in my luggage, and with 30 minutes to spare before boarding, figured that I could spare a couple of minutes for a cookie, a white chocolate mocha, and a cig at the airport's Bo's Coffee Club. They didn't accept credit, so I was forced to pay cash. BAD MOVE JONAT. The terminal fee was 200 pesos, and I only had a hundred pesos left in my wallet. All my remaining cash was checked in along with my bags. I then had to run out of the domestic departure gates, sprint all the way to the BPI ATM in the international departure area, and sprint all the way back. By the time I got back to the airport they were issuing a last call for PR858 headed for Manila. Haha. I got aboard just in time.

3:00 PM - I got on the plane, and got seated beside two nouveau middle-class (not even nouveau rich or old middle-class, take note) women who grabbed my window seat. They kept staring at me, grimy from my five-hour commute across Cebu, and kept whispering to each other about the dirty, unshaven guy beside them. I hated it. Oh, and Kris Aquino, James Yap, and entourage were on the plane with me. She was loud and funny.

4:10 PM - The plane touched down in Manila, got fetched, got home, and slept.

That was actually kind of fun. I felt like a genuine backpacker, with my North Face daypack, my un-knowledge of the local dialect, and the sense of urgency. Haha. I can't wait to really backpack in Europe when I graduate. If only I had the money...

(To be Continued)