***I have collected old blog entries from my old multiply account and carefully filtered the material in terms of relevance to post here. Nostalgia has a way of making you smile and sober up. read on and enjoy!
June 26th, 2008
I was dressed for success but success it never comes…
Here (Pavement)
- The unemployment ratio of our beloved country is curiously low with all the job sites and classified ads earning a loadful because of romping job vacancies. And doing the rounds in Makati alone, you got to forgive me when I say where are the $#@&* are the applicants?!? It’s like being in a burger contest and discovering you’re part of a few contestants to gobble all the greasy patties on a thousand plates. Wait, I don’t even see the connection. Bad simile. Anyway you know what I mean. With the entire call center mushrooming all over the metro, it is insanely impossible not to be hired. I mean someone needs to fill up their seats, right? or they will literally shut down. So it goes back to the “siesta love” theory. We are simply not grooming ourselves enough or working our asses off to find our spot. You can’t be too picky when we’re talking about our digestive systems and the countless MP3s waiting to be downloaded and indie bands romping some noise on bars with expensive beers. Ya hear me? MP3s! Cmoooon we are the future! We are the world! Sing with me!
- I am officially a bum. It has been a month and 3 days since I quit my steady job. And mind you, I’m not proud of it. It’s just that I suddenly have this sudden light bulb enlightenment of how it feels like to be a guy who’s just waiting for his brother to lend him a hundred bucks to sustain his daily nourishment. You can get tired of those instant gratifications wrapped on colorful plastics or canned in errr well, cans. That’s why I found a special inkling with Pavement. They seem to be teasing my intellectual competency of just free-versing and free-flowing whatever is in my mind, and not giving a damn. But then again, my brother could just spit me in the eye and go Pavement over me. That wouldn't sound cool and artsy now, won’t it?
- Call it PROMDI complex but there’s a singular, unexplained joy in riding the MRT. A traffic-less, childlike joy. And it somehow reminds me hazily of living in a gloomy weathered British town (oh me and my brit pop fixation). It’s a bit disheartening though that on my 2 weeks stay and countless MRT rides, I have not gain a chance to feel the cold steel cushion of their passenger seat. There’s this new sexist regime too: Gender segregation for passengers. That’s worst than separate swimming classes for Co-Ed schools. So the gels are neatly compiled on the first cars while the working class sweaty gents are scampering at the last cars for some space, (and I’m talking inches!). We look like testicles hanging on metal bars and you just don’t want any friction to go with that. And how about the third sex? Where do they belong? Is reality a physical form of evidence or one’s classification of self identity? I just want an equal world where everyone is entitled for a butt-touch of that seat. I'll pay that 11 peso ticket for just one chance to sit comfortably as I smirk on the sight of the commuters rushing home, cramming for a place in this fishbowl.
- Resigning from a regular job for six years is not an easy feat. You need to shed off attachments as brusquely as possible like dandruffs on your shoulder. In some ways you need to be icy and a little distant to avoid unnecessary tear-jerking moments. And there’s this contemplation that just won’t end even until the first few weeks of your new job: “have I done the right thing by giving up a respectable routinary work with a five figure salary for a supposed-to-be better life in the metro?” “Am I threading the right path of the “professional growth” avenue?”
what does professional growth even means?
No, there’s no proper climax to end this bulleted introspection. So pardon me when this battle yelp is all I have for now: Careeeearrr! Koreaaah Koreeaaa!
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