9.27.2010

The Monday After

Yesterday, September 26, was the third of our company's 5-leg event run for a client. I won't be going into details because, well, I'm not sure if I'm allowed to.

And today, is the Monday after. 10 of our 16-man team who supervised yesterday's event are nowhere in the office. Two, who happen to be Angge and Fiona, are asleep beside me. And me? Well, I can't be blogging right now, can I? But yeah, I am. Regardless of the seeming lack of cohesive topic in my mind. Regardless of my entire mind and body screaming for sleep. I am writing because I want my brain to work despite the exhaustion. Because, God bless my eyes, if I take a nap right this moment I'll have it turn into a 12-hour sleep. And of course, I wouldn't want that. Not here, definitely.

What to write about, then, I ask myself. There are a lot of things going on right now.

One, my parents and I are on each other's throats. They want me to start quitting. I want a couple more days to straighten things out first. So I won't be sacrificing, on top of everything I've sacrificed already, my personal integrity. Unfortunately, my couple more days include almost-all-nighters. And they just don't like that. Sometimes, I want to shout at them. Like, Hey I understand, okay? Now will you please just listen? But of course, I cannot. So we just keep on throwing dagger looks around. First one to bleed loses.

Two, I'm plain tired. And unsatisfied. And mad. And sad. All conflicting emotions, but all complementing, too. In such a way that weighs you down into utter disaster.

Three, I've been meaning to write about you ever since the phone call. But maybe you and what's with you is just simply insignificant now compared to my other, larger concerns. Well, I'm deceived by my own mind, am I not? 'Cause here I am, saying--and thinking--you're insignificant and yet thinking about you all the same. *sigh* You have always been the thought that fills my mind when it runs blankly. I wish you're not like that. Or maybe I wish you are but not in the way that you do now.

Four, congratulations, my dear pseudo-ma'am. You have made it to my blood-boiling people list. Because every time I see you, I hate you. And every time I hear you, I loathe you. And every time I interact with you, my love, I want to hurt you. God forgive me for feeling so much hate. But even against my better judgment, that which is not in any way governed or touched by my emotions, you still deserve to be hated.

Five, I miss my summer. The last one, which was extended way too long. I want that again. Now more than ever.

Six, as of finishing this blog, the time is already 5:45pm. 15 minutes more.

Hence, I'm off.

9.16.2010

This goes to two important people:

It was nice seeing you again, talking to you again, and making fun of your tardiness again. C'mon, who on earth eat lunch with their friends at the exact time they're supposed to start class? I know that's partly my fault. But that's mostly yours, too. We've agreed to meet up at 11, an hour before your first class and you showed up at 12. Nevertheless, it's fine. I've missed classes more than you do, I admit.

Thank you for my cheeseburger, which (you didn't tell me, mygod you could've complained) you had to buy from one side of the university and you had to walk with to the other side. And thank you for not making me pay. Ha!

I promise to help you with your thesis. Editing and all. :)

I miss you more. And definitely, I love you more.

----------------------------

Today is my third day here. And my second to the last. And I haven't seen you.

Fine, the place is so darn big even news don't travel around it fire-like fast. But you're in the area where two of my friends are. And you know them. And . . . I don't even know why I'm even thinking that maybe, just maybe, you know I'm here. And that you'll come to say hi.

Alright, fine, okay. I'm not supposed to be thinking along these lines.

But suppose you know. Suppose you're just around, watching from afar like you always do, making sure I'm okay. Suppose you're still like that. Then what?

Nothing. I guess that will only make me sad again. Because there you'll be. Far, never coming closer. Like you'll always be. Like you've been for some time now.

But wait. I am not supposed to be talking, or even thinking about, this. I am not supposed to. But I guess knowing you're nearer than you can ever possibly be changes things a bit. When you're nearer yet still and even farther and all I want is a glimpse of how happy you already are now.

Tomorrow, hopefully. Or not. I don't really know for sure.

9.10.2010

I dare

People always say I'm brave. Sometimes, they wonder how I ever manage to have huge amounts of the stuff within my small-framed physique. Other times, I wonder if they're ever right.

And then comes a definite test of bravery for me. In the form of my sweet-faced but nevertheless strict and superbly silently-vicious superior. I still remember clearly how I've landed into my current project, which she heads.

I was just there at our table, brainstorming my way into yet another project (maybe, although . . .), when I was called by my immediate supervisor for a whole different meeting. A turnover meeting, from my co-PC to me.

To cut a possibly ranting half-post short, I unwillingly displaced and replaced my co-PC. Thus started my dealings with my sweet-faced superior.

And man, is she ever testing. Almost, I find myself waiting for the last day of that project and praying that nothing unwanted happens. And always, I glimpse at my phone hoping against hope for her to be so busy she won't remember calling me for updates.

But then my fighter-self starts to kick in. Hey there, little kid. Sure you're of lower standing, but you're not to-shout-at material, right?

Hell, yes.

By which, I mean that I know when I do something wrong and I'm more than willing to apologize for it. But I also know when I don't do something wrong and I'm not at all willing to be shouted at for it.

By which, I further mean: I am not going to let myself be bullied into subordination. I won't let myself siphon in, whether or not intentionally, all pressures and stresses that I don't deserve.

I am going to fight my way into this field. I've done this before, and I'll do it again.

9.06.2010

Untitled, Uncomposed

I want to write. But sadly, I don't know what to write about. My mind is teeming with words and ideas and thoughts. Threads and threads of them, just waiting to be summoned and translated into a well-written essay.

But nothing. Comprehension, zero. Grammar, zero. And everything else.

Tomorrow, tomorrow. Or not.

P.S. Anne Curtis looked like someone from a horror movie, the way she was styled in what's-that-ball.

9.03.2010

Interim

Maybe sometimes you think that after everything I've said about me moving on and being happier now, I still am somewhere back to that dim spot. Because I still post a few sad items from time to time. Because there's still a trace of that spot and that person in the threads of thoughts I share.

But here's the deal, I am okay. I am happy. And I'm not saying this just so I can make myself believe in that fact. Because I know I am happy and okay and free and light.

Yet, there's no denying of the huge portion of who I am today that's because of what happened before. There's no forgetting of the beautiful moments, of those where I laughed and smiled and loved. There's no letting go of all those positive sides of that person, to whom I owe a lot.

Which means that even if I'm already good, I still acknowledge and very much appreciate the fact that we are parts of each other's lives.