Quarter Life Crisis?

I am two years young for it...but *sigh* well this could be it.

My fucking customers are waiting for me! That's what my mind tells me each morning, so even if I get up early, I come late for work...for no less than 2-3 hours. And it's not good. But it feels good. They say I'm astig coz I don't care. That I don't care that I get a warning for my schedule adherence. That I don't care if I violate company rules on proper call-in procedure and attendance. That I don't care if I come late and sit beside my supervisor.

But hell they're wrong. I care a lot. About Filipinos, about the economy, about politics, about the future, about racism and a lot about the things I cannot do anything about. It's sad that as much as I want things to change I just can't. It's beyond my control.

My shift starts at 8:30 am. I am up at 6 am and was holding my shampoo in my right hand, when I decided that there is no need to hurry. I dozed off with a smile thinking that my yelling customers are waiting on the queue for a technical person to help them with their computer. Why don't they just throw it out of the window. That would be a lot simpler and easier.

Once the call gets into your CMS (phone) be ready to have your ears or head bitten off. Let them wait. Let them wait for the "brown monkey" (although I am far from being brown)to pick up. Let the brown monkey hear their rants. Let the brown monkey swallow the insult that comes from being born into a third world country. They will eat your soul up like a demon and that's exactly what the management wants--to sit mum and accept every bitter comment about your nationality and to reply with the sweetest and most polite tone you could manage. When all I wanted to do was scream "PUTANG INA MO!GAGO KA PALA EH! ISA KANG MALAKING TAE!." That's how my company makes money to pay me so I can pay my bills....

How they measure your intelligence based on your origin. I bet more than half of the assholes I get to speak with everyday did not even finish college nor high school. It's all about the money. If I were an English born, with Harry Potter-accent would they treat me the way they're treating me.

Where did it all start? Why did Marcos hoard all the money?! Why did Erap get into so much trouble?! Why did Arroyo admit that she talked with Garcilliano? Now, not only the whites are judging the Filipinos based on our leaders. They're probably thinking that the Filipinos are stupid for choosing these leaders.

*ring...ring* that's the landline, as it breaks the silence downstairs. I hear it, but I don't give a damn. *ring...ring* that's my cellphone. "Hi Lon...me pasok ka today, right?" that's my supervisor in his calm voice. My conscience bugged me. I have the most patient, and the most understanding boss in the planet. "Opo...papasok na po..." my voice sounds sleepy. I told him I am not feeling well. I don't lie to him. If I don't feel like going to work, I tell him straight out. And today, it's true that I am not feeling well...my soul is sick. I realized it's an hour past my shift. I slept a few minutes after that...woke up and screamed "AYOKO NG PUMASOK!" In my mind there is a mocking voice singing "your customers are waiting..get up girl...the customers are waiting..get up."

I dragged myself down the stairs, picked up my cat, and stared into the wall in the kitchen. After a while of knowing that a blonde somewhere in the US is losing his/her patience on the queue in the phone line in the office,probably screaming at their kids right now or tapping the counter looking aggravated with their brows knitted together. I smiled and went for the bathroom and took a long bath, playing with the faucet and making bubbles..."the ****** ********* are waiting...." And I'll make them wait some more.

I guess it's what they call quarter-life crisis. Although I am a just a few years short for that. But it's the same anyway. I get to think about my values. (Whew! Like I never thought of it before). About my priorities, about work, about what i intend to do, nd what I really wanted to do. Is this what I have always dreamed of? I get paid, but I am not happy. I never thought I felt this much about being a Filipino. Never had I thought that Nationalism would strike me at this age...why didn't it come when I was in college? Maybe it's because I didn't care back then..because I had no reason to care.


The background music plays..Why Does it Always Rain on Me? by Coldplay. And I see myself, like on a video. Top view. Medium shot. My hands are typing fast on the keyboard as though time is pushing me and the safety of the planet depends on it.... My Life.

One thing's for sure, I don't want to spend my life this anymore. It's like a new revolution. But I am not Rizal. I don't even have enough money. I may not even have the courage.

I am not sure if I deserve these thoughts...coz there's nothing much I can do about it.

On Change and Bent Trees

Sometimes, it surprises you when people change. But what we don't know is that sometimes, people change not just on their own but because you pushed them. There was a story I read before about a crooked tree, that grew the way it was because it was following the sun.... I am not sure if I would like to grow like that.

Kite-Flying with James

Yesterday, I flew a kite, ran across a bamboo bridge, went under slides and played seesaw with James, my 7-year old nephew. It was something that I haven't done in years. Then later we went to Rizal park, took a stroll, fed the birds and ate hotdog sandwich. At around 8 pm I was walking along Taft avenue with an exhausted child on my back and with sore toes.

I have always wanted to do just that. It's good that he is spending his vacation at our house so I'd always have a kid to tag along with me and provide as an excuse for me play around like a kid again.

He was so happy and proud. He wanted to watch Star Wars 3, but later in the day, he admitted to me that it was much better that we didn't because he enjoyed the park better. But the highlight of the day is when we tried to fly a kite. He was pressing me to buy a kite early on, and I am just dying to fly one as well . So we managed to buy one funny looking red kite with orange tails. It's so cute, it looked like a giant red tilapia with humongous eyes. We have been trying to fly it for hours and four guys already tried to help us. It was not until it has gone dark already when James, just sat on the ground--cross-legged, and stared at me as I throw it into the air and watch it crash. He is exhausted, but his Tita wouldn't stop. There I was, running in circles like a dog chasing its tail.

I was whispering to the kite as though it is love. Begging it to fly. But it wouldn't. Then a fourth guy approached me and helped me fly it for the nth time. It wouldn't fly not because of the wind, nor because we might be doing something wrong. He advised me to bring it back to the sidewalk stall where we bought and have it changed. I was hesitant because I don't want to start up an argument with the kite vendor if I say that her kite doesn't fly. I don't want her to think that it was just that I don't know how to fly it. Which is half true.

But I was persuaded that there's something wrong with it. It's too heavy to soar, like it's carrying some grudge. I just told my nephew that if they wouldn't change it then, we'd just leave it there since we wouldn't have any use for it. And he agrees without any of his usual complains.

Luckily 'the kite lady' agreed to change it. And shortly after that we found ourselves running in front of the Quirino grandstand, shouting with joy "Yahooohoo!" It was dark but we could still see our kite flying higher than any of the kites there.

I realized that if a kite doesn't want to fly, the best you can do is find one that does. Watch it soar and enjoy!

Thank you James for such a great day! I promise we'll go out again.

Falling Out-- A Dimming Heart

Sigh... I should be happy. I am not saying I am sad though. It's just that I have been thinking since last night. It scares me because I am falling out. I ripped out the back pages of my notebook where I have some letters for him and hid it in the back pocket of my calendar. I don't think I am making any sense out of my life by thinking of him and hoping that romance will bloom again between us.

Two nights ago, I dreamed of a river, it was running dry and the riverbed is showing some green patches. I was walking on the rocky bottom. The other night, it was the shore with lots of dead fish. There was one fish that's burried in the wet sand. It's dying and I prodded it with a stick to the sea, where it seemed to revive under a rock.

At one point, I know I believed that love is a mighty river. Once you get caught up in it's rush, you can only do so much. But the river has gone dry. He doesn't make me smile anymore. And I don't think of him as much as I used to. He probably doesn't love me anymore anyway, so I shouldn't worry. I have never felt so resolute. And never have I not cared until today. Guess, I still care a little, else I wouldn't be writing this.

The book of angels says that when two people fall in love, what they see from above are two bright lights that are glowing from within. And when it dies, the lights dim slowly. And we shouldn't try to cling on to it if it fades out. They say doubt and fear are two things that causes the lights to dim. Guess, I feared and doubted so much. But I can't undo the damage, much less pretend.

So much for now. I love you. But I just don't love you today. I hope I don't feel this way tomorrow.

Something Beautiful, Stupid and Wasted (12/07/03-an original poem by me)

Whenever I'm with you, I feel like I've swept a thousand purple gerberas in my arms.

You turn my tummy inside out and there are fireworks and little pixies dancing about.

When I walk with you, it feels like I'm strolling on clouds of yellow roses


Stars fall down blooms of forget-me-nots

Just to be near you... just to be near you.

And my head is spinning words too elegant for my vocabulary... 
Too gallant...too beautiful... too rare.

So much time has been wasted.
Is wasted.
And I don't know why I'm still wasting it.

Idle dreams without truth.

©2003 Ma. Leonor Jambalos. All rights reserved.

Happy Sad Songs

I'll Never Fall In Love Again

Burt Bacharach / Hal David

What do you get when you fall in love?

A guy with a pin to burst your bubble

That's what you get for all your trouble.

I'll never fall in love again.

I'll never fall in love again.

What do you get when you kiss a guy?

You get enough germs to catch pneumonia.

After you do, he'll never phone you.

I'll never fall in love again.

I'll never fall in love again.

Don't tell me what is all about,

'Cause I've been there and I'm glad I'm out,

Out of those chains, those chains that bind you

That is why I'm here to remind you

What do you get when you fall in love?

You get enough tears to fill an ocean

That's what you get for your devotion.

I'll never fall in love again.

I'll never fall in love again.

What do you get when you fall in love?

You only get lies and pain and sorrow.

So, for at least until tomorrow,

I'll never fall in love again!

I'll never fall in love again!

(Part of Bacharach/David Medley)

Don't tell me what it's all about

`Cause I've been there and I'm glad I'm out

Out of those chains, those chains that bind you

That is why I'm here to remind you. (here to mind you) 3x

What do you get when you fall in love?

You only get lies and pain and sorrow

So, for at least, until tomorrow

I'll never fall in love again

Oh, I'll never fall in love again

"Got A Feeling You Don't Love Me Anymore"

We've been together for so very long

But now things are changing, oh I wonder what's wrong?

Seems you don't want me around

The passion is gone and the flame's died down

I guess I lost a little bit of self-esteem

That time that you made it with the whole hockey team

You used to think I was nice

Now you tell all your friends that I'm the Antichrist

Oh, why did you disconnect the breaks in my car?

That kind of thing is hard to ignore

Got a funny feeling you don't love me anymore

I knew that we were having problems when

You put those piranhas in my bathtub again

You're still the light of my life

Oh darling, I'm beggin', won't you put down that knife?

You know, I even think it's kinda cute the way

You poison my coffee just a little each day

I still remember the way that you laughed

When you pushed me down that elevator shaft

Oh, if you don't mind me asking, what's this poisonous cobra

Doing in my underwear drawer?

Sometime I get to thinking you don't love me any more

You slammed my face down on the barbecue grill

Now my scars are all healing, but my heart never will

You set my house on fire

You pulled out my chest hairs with an old pair of pliers

Oh, you think that I'm ugly and you say that I'm cheap

You shaved off my eyebrows while I was asleep

You drilled a hole in my head

Then you dumped me in a drainage ditch and left me for dead

Oh, you know this really isn't like you at all

You never acted this way before

Honey, something tells me you don't love me any more, oh no no

Got a funny feeling you don't love me anymore

These are some of my favorite songs because it's just that I don't like the lyrics...

HAPPINESS CURRENTLY COSTS 195 GP

I imagine myself moving in runescape (online computer game- www.runescape.com), and after a deadly battle with the recurring issues in my head, the pressure at work, and the mess at home I went to the general store a.k.a Seattles Best for one javanilla and blueberry cheesecake. I am keeping my fingers crossed that it will give me enough endorphins to be able to "Battle Evil."

After a while. I realized I wanted some roasted chicken. However, I am too far from the farm in Lumbridge (Kenny Roger's at Glorietta) as I am somewhere under the wizard's tower (PS office) mining rune essence. Dead rat's meat would do for now (1 piece chicken meal at McDo)---eewww!

A moment later--I had my QA session. Looks like a ZERO. It's a losing battle at the very start. The deadly scorpion pricked my ankle. And I lay flat on the ground wishing my body would be teleported to the privacy of my room where I'd stare at the cieling and pretend that I am dead.

I realized that most of the time I have always pretended I am dead. Pretended that I don't care. Cared so much in not feeling. But have always felt nonetheless.

I wish I could exist like Purpleowyn, my character in the game. With purple skirt and hair, a mirthil shield and a fire staff, she could wander into the dark woods and battle the wizards alone. She just gotta find her wings somewhere hidden in a cloud of dream dusts, and she'd be perfect. All set without cares.

______
note: gp is the currency in runescape, 1gp=1 peso

WHEN DID I START BECOMING A SENSELESS WRITER?

I went into peyups.com and read an article about blogging. There was this one contributor who sort of said that blogging is too mundane. That most bloggers are anymous, voiceless and senseless writers who just want to write about themselves.

He said that " all these self-glorifications and me-I-centric musings are nothing but pure masturbation and ego-massage. Such bloggers are then reduced to just another senseless writer – anonymous and voiceless. " And I say, who cares?

His words were big. His thoughts--idealistic. He wanted people to write about ideas that can help change the world. Not bad. But we all know we can't change it.

Blogging is mundane. But are we not? That's the essence of our being. If one is not mundane then one had better go back to the planet where one belongs.

I admire the way he strongly expressed his opinion and his ability to elicit some response. But other than that, it's just a blatant egoistic display of the writer's idea--not entirely about blogging but of how he sees himself as an observer... and the rest of us were reduced to mere subjects he can just use to display his "refined taste of web-based literature. "

It makes me want to puke on his face.

Blogging is about angst. About bullshit experiences. It's about our crushes, about what happend in the bus, about the person beside you. About typographical errors and wrong vocabulary. It's for everyone to see. It shouldn't be sanitized. It is an art in itself. It is a journal of people living in this age. It is a mirror of life, and it can't get any better, nor should be anything other that what it is now.

I can trace the vein of his thoughts. I've been there before. But ideas such such as these shouldn't be used in any way to condemn others in obvious pretense of a cause. Intellectuals like him are the ones who are selfish. Egocentric mortals who decry their own mundanity by critcizing others.

People write about themselves and the itsy bitsy nonsense of everyday living because in reality, that' s all that we have. It is alright to dream for change, but I guess it's more important to just focus on what we have and on what we are now. In life, I've so far learned that you can't force people to be what they were yesterday or what you want them to be a few years from now. You just take them as they are, appreciate and love them for the eternal moment, which is the only real thing.

It is rare for me to come upon noble thoughts that keep my tummy churning each night knowing that it's something worthy to pen and publish. However it is more rare for me to just go back to what I was before. When I couldn't find anything "worthy" to write about other than my daily rigmarole. Those blogs are precious--the ones written because the person doesn't know as much. Hasn't been moved as much. Hasn't felt as much.

Just as nobody lives for himself alone, nobody writes for others without having to mean it for himself or without having to take something from it. Everyone writes for themselves and for others at the same time. Taking from his definition then, humanity has never written anything with sense. We are all senseless writers.

He is senseless.... and egoistic. I know I am.

EVERY BITCH'S EXCUSE--PMS!

Pre-Menstrual Syndrome or simply PMS. It's the best reason there is to act like the bitch that you are. It only happens once a month, so why not make the most out of it. Hiss at every asshole that comes your way, brat your way around people, be as grumpy as you can be! Every girl knows what I'm talking about. For you guys out there--you can't even start to imagine what we go through each month. You feel bloated--and yet you can't help but feel hungry hour after hour. You get pimples, you feel hot and yet your toes get cold. Or sometimes you feel like you're sweating and yet the room is chilled. And then you feel like you just went on a weekend hike, your lower back as well as every fiber of muscle around your waist feels like it's being torn apart. Either you're dizzy or super sleepy and you don't want to talk to anyone. And yet you don't want to be alone. You get sentimental and start to hate yourself. You want to scream but you don't want other people to see the way you're misbehaving. You get nostalgic about little things and feel like crying but you don't have enough excuse other than, well, of course--PMS.

DRIFTING

Tue, 26 Oct 2004 17:22:18 -0700 (PDT)

An air of gloom was all around me as I was seated on the porch facing Ayala at 6 am. I think of you. I think of what I am feeling, I think of what love is, I think of the book I am reading about positive thinking. I think of Corinthians 13. I think of what love is AGAIN. I think of what truth is. I think about myself and think of what is it that keeps me hanging--I think it could be just my ego.

It's amazing how much you could think in a moment as compared to the time you spend doing all the stupid things without thinking--and how much good it will do the world if only a person could just think for each moment before acting or deciding to hold on or to even just believe in things.

I guess you are really a part of my ego--and that's the reason why I couldn't let go. It's not good, and sometimes it makes me really sad.
I wish a wind would come to blow all these thoughts away... .

It makes me feel sad when I feel this way. I guess this is just PMS sentiment that's creeping through me. I am mean to myself, I couldn't let myself free.

But for the past days you are drifting away again, this time it's within me. You are drifting inside--I couldn't hold on. Guess I am just tired. I am giving up. I guess I need to listen to myself. It's time to go, maybe I will be back someday, but not yet in the coming days. Goodbye for now... :-(

ANTIDOTE

Some antidotes are hard to swallow. But they treat us of our malaise.

I drank four cans of beer-- straight. And I know I'd be drinking some more. While I was indulging myself in the most popular form of self-inflicted torture, I realized that I wanted to get right down to the bottom. It tastes bitter and I guess some alcoholics and part-time alcoholics (a.k.a "social drinker") like me could see the solid metaphorical link between life and alcohol. You want to drink it all up fast. Straight to the bottom. One after the other. Wishing time would play fast forward after each bottle. Over and done with the moment--or the thought that bugs you at the eternal moment.

But instead it plays backward...to those precious minutes that you'd like to forget. And you know you can't forget by drinking. I only wish to pass out, and retreat to my sanctuary...where everything swirls and all I think about is how to keep my eyes open. Where I couldn't even think of why I drank in the first place. To be amused at my staged folly--and hear myself laugh.

It's makes you feel more of yourself when you feel like your spirit has left you. It makes you feel alive when everything reels--from bad to worse-- to hugging the toilet seat as you barf out your sentiments. It makes you feel a little better about being sober before you lifted the tab of your first beer. It makes you feel...that's the most important.

It's my birthday. And that was just it. Some girl's birthday. This is the antidote that I'd have to take today.

(March 14, 2005. 11:45 pm)