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.