Close Encounters of the Third Kind

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“It’s not that they’re hard of hearing but that they’re hard of listening.”
-- JoyLuck Club by Amy Tan
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Encounter 1
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Life in the office is pretty dull, especially in the afternoons when it takes 10-minute intervals in between calls. Most often, I get prank callers who want me to voice out ebonic hip hop greetings, enunciate their libidinal depravity with gusto, and on one occasion, to declare my horniness as an operator. In which case, I’d politely decline and ask my supervisor to terminate the idiocy. Otherwise, in those 10-minute intervals, I’d be reading through The JoyLuck Club by Amy Tan, an attempt on my part to keep myself awake WHILE reestablishing my roots as a non-dynastic Chinese person of the third generation. The attempt to keep awake doesn’t work all the time so it’s a good thing I take my B-Complex vitamins after eating lunch.
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Since I started work a couple of weeks ago, I was well aware of a particular supervisor’s keen interest in me. Let’s call the supervisor by the name of Joy, to keep my end of the confidentiality agreement.
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When I was still a trainee, Joy knew my surname, asked me where I finished college, and even knew the street where I lived. I’d reply with smiles because I’ve always felt the need to be courteous even if it’s uncomfortable. In the week I formally started working, Joy started to send me text messages.
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“I’d like us to be friends.”
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“I’d like us to sit down and talk, get to know each other better.”
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“Are you mad at me?”
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“Why are you not replying? Did I offend you?”
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“The truth is I like you, Ennui. I won’t grow old thinking about you.”
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“It’s been a while since I liked someone this way.”
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“I’m falling for you.”
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I fell shocked silence for a moment, probably in the same world as my deaf clients. I didn’t know how or what to say. I courteously replied this after a long pause:
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“Please don’t do this to yourself.”
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Encounter 2
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Friday night was special to me because it sorta marked my willingness to explore new territory, and perhaps, given the chance, be burned in emotions yet again. I’ve been anxious the whole week that finally I’ll be meeting up with a friend I’ve only known through text messages. I wore my new pair of shoes, a new pair of pants, my new long-sleeved shirt, and an eager perspective to possibly finding a connection.
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We ate in a quaint little Italian place somewhere in Malate and I’d have to say, I enjoyed the digressive conversation without touching much of our meal.
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Let’s call my friend Meal.
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Meal was well-dressed and mature for a 23-year old but in a good way. Culture was very apparent in manners, in speech, with a sense of confidence that was very comforting. I, on the other hand, was neither apprehensive nor insecure at all. Like a true Fire Goat, I was very poised and open to new learnings. I wanted to expose my vulnerability, to be truthful about everything I had been, and everything I am now. I was a burning goat.
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That same night, I receive a text message from my sister that my grandmother wasn’t doing well and that if I had the chance to go to the hospital, I should go visit. I became aloof right after. I tried detaching myself from the reality, how everything meaningful was happening at the same time, and that I can only choose to be in one place.
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Meal drove me home. The unconscious air had once again been disturbed. I wanted to do something more than just hold hands and bid the night farewell. I had let the fire partially consume me.
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And at this early a morning, I find myself fanning out the ashes …
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It's oh sooooo quiet ...

Balancing the Act

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For those who know me well, I'm not the type of person who'd speak in conclusion about something I'm not sure of. I'm very careful when it comes to voicing out how and what I feel about certain things because I know there will come several instances when I'd have to swallow the stuff I let out and that would be painfully embarrassing. I hate embarrassment.
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A good example was my previous post where I sorta raved about the job and how it's been great so far and all that. Funny, because that same night when I went to work, I had finally been "cornered" by that supervisor I've been avoiding the past few days. Ok ok, so I was tardy for 3 minutes. Big deal ...
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... but it was, for her. We sat inside this tiny conference room (gas chamber, I think is a more appropriate name as you'll find out later) where she had a sheet of paper with my embittered name on it. She was ready to burn the air.
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She ranted on and on about the importance of schedule adherence and tardiness and the possibility of floods or traffic, how many applicants are out there lining up for my job, people with similar talents, but how I had been blessed to have had the opportunity to reach thus far ... and all that supervisorly shit.
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She had been condescending, if you were one who had the ability to mince thru her scented intonation and deceptive air of concern. I was a bit irked, of course, because I felt like one of those petulant children being punished for refusing to finish the food on my plate :
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"Many people are dying of hunger in Somalia. Be grateful for your blessings."
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It was all bullcrap really, except that I've evolved now. I was suprisingly tolerant, less of a delinquent. Perhaps I do need to clean up my act now and continue playing by the rules. She does, and despite the fact that almost everyone in the office hates her, she's still there enforcing all the codes of conduct and terminating people on the smallest offense.
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Hmmm ... I can play dirty myself and still be within the bounds of legal restrictions. My own way of getting back. The rebellious non-delinquent.
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So 2 days later, today, while we were lined up and marching off to the conference room, to Aushwitz led by the maternal nazi, I found myself a survivor. There were 2 casualties, gassed in the conference room never to be seen again, I emerged 2nd highest in the batch and because of this, I got to choose the shift that I desired. Ü
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The morning shift.
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It's strange. I've become sort of a morning person now. Regular work hours, regular work days.
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Normalcy may finally be taking over ...
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I Better Work

In a few minutes I'm off to work. That's my life now, not that I'm complaining or anything. So far, whenever I try to find something to justify not liking it, I am rebutted with a reasonable reply.

1. They are strict with attendance BUT only if you're after the schedule adherence bonus.

2. They are strict with tardiness BUT you have an allowance of 2 hours in a month for being late.

3. They don't give you personal breaks (like if you had to pee asap) BUT only if you're after the bonus.

4. The work is routine and may eventually get boring BUT it's relatively stress-free and is actually fun in most cases.

5. They make you stay a bit longer without overtime pay BUT at least you don't have to take home what you do. You go home without worries.

6. They have a $500 training bond BUT with the salary they give compared to other companies, you can easily pay it off in 3 months. Not so bad really.

7. The canteen serves sucky food and the smoking areas are not weather-friendly -- a better reason to temporarily stop the vice. What's one day right?

8. The OIC is not well-liked and extremely strict. Gotta play by the rules for now.

9. The officemates are mostly married with kids and are not fond of going out BUT they are fun nonetheless.

So for now, if and when I get certified before this weekend, I'm already thinking of the many things to shop for when Saturday comes. Maybe I'll go watch that Jean Pierre Jeunet film (if it's still around).

I just hope nobody goes bombing the business district again. Fucking idiots ...

Restraint

\Re’straint\ n 3 : control over feelings



1 : In my sleep I dreamed I was walking with my grandmother. She was healthy and youthful and she had the brightest smile on her face. We were walking on the sidewalk ready to step down unto the subway or what seemed like the entrance to a train stop. She was tired and ready to go home. I carried her in my arms like a child. That was the time I woke up.


1a : I feel asleep again and found myself in a swimming pool that had no water. I was still lying down under my blankets. The blanket was dry but it was dewy. After all, I was lying down in a swimming pool. There was something I felt, moving about in my hair so I instinctively brush it with my hand in a sweeping motion. A little orange fish fell into my blanket. It was dead but its eyes were glowering, looking at me. All of a sudden I noticed that my whole blanket was covered with other fish. They were all dead but they were all staring intently at me. I tried to wave my blanket to throw them off but they were attached to it. My comfort zone pre-occupied with subconscious thoughts that never seem to want to go away.


2 : He reached for the emptying cup, observing what had remained half past the morning hour. The sunlight had slowly crept in, like the warmth of hibernation becoming more apparent under the blankets and in between the rumpled pillows. He had put a teaspoon too many of sugar into his drink, which made him decidedly restrained after every sip from the ceramic rim. The light would refract through the translucent window glass and illuminate his thoughts the way it did the crystal chandelier. There was no one around, no soft music playing in the background, no gentle nudging or affectionate embrace from where he sat comfortably. He thought of preparing breakfast – eggs over easy, 2 pieces of warm toast with a thin coat of honey, and perhaps a cigarette right after if he felt like it – but he didn’t feel like preparing. It was a calmly reunion he wanted to share with himself, a detachment from all the other mornings that had run on unremittingly like the seasons. He had no sudden urge to leave or any unimparted words of affection that knew such tolerance. Everything was quite like what they were the night before. He was still the same person after all.

Nameless No More

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I invited my friends over for some tea on a Saturday night, seeing as how I’d be very busy the next couple of weeks. I met them over at our favorite hangout. I met up with Luke who was talking to Julius, Joeboy’s French professor from Alliánce. Joeboy and Nikita followed a few minutes later after purchasing a new pair of black leather S&M stilettos from Nine West. She bought the pair specifically for her party that was to follow.
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There’s this waiter we’ve come to know as Nameless simply because he was. That night however, they found out his name was Joseph. He was nameless no more. It reminded us of the final SATC episode where Carrie answers her mobile after coming out from shopping and we get a glimpse of Mr. Big’s real name on the small, non-colored, one-liner screen. John. It was such a common name for someone who’s been so mysterious and elusive for 6 years. We asked, “Why not Fitzgerald or Zeus or Apollo?” We were so disappointed.
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Nikita tells me that she has an officemate she’d like me to meet. She gave out a name. My initial reaction was that of apprehension, which I felt was quite normal. In a quick instant, all of the self-consciousness ping-ponged about in my head. Nameless no more.
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At 11:15, Nikita left for her friend’s Marlboro Myxtronica party at the World Trade Center in Roxas, le professor de Français went home because he had an early class the next day, and the remaining ménage took refuge in Coffee Bean.
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It was around 12:30 when I received Nikita’s call inviting us over to hear the Warp Brothers. We’d be getting free VIP passes for the party so off we went! Who could refuse an invite like that anyway? Ü
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The place was packed but not all people were dancing. It was a myxed crowd dancing half-enthused over hardcore trance, distinctly European. We didn’t care, we were there to have fun. Music-wise, the only highlight I remember was when the DJs played a heavy remix of U2’s New Year’s Day. Wonderful song and everyone 25 and above seemed to enjoy dancing because they knew the lyrics. Aaahh, the 80s. Dance-wise, on one part Nikita and I were mimicking the sexy ledge dancers atop the platform beside the mix booth. On the other, we were mime-dancing. It was hilarious!
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People started to disperse moments later. We find out that everyone’s outside eating buffet breakfast. For free. Not only that, there were female models giving out free cigarettes as well, a blatant promotional effort for the smoking public. It was about 4am when we finally decided to head home. Coming from the graveyard, I was wide-awake.
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A quick taxi ride along Roxas, I was home. I was dressing up quietly near the toilet when I noticed my grandmother’s room was empty. I find out later that she was brought to the hospital again. *sigh*

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We Go Live

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This is weird. I kinda promised myself that I will never talk about work in my blog and I will try to be less self-absored as a means of dispelling the negative thoughts. But the truth is, my new job is taking most of my time nowadays. There's no time to dwell on problems, on personal issues, on that crazy little thing called love, not even enough time to spend a good night with friends like in the past half year. And so, if I'm not able to be self-absored in my emotional junkiness or to be able to write about my occupation, what have I left to write about??? Without emotion, I am not as eloquent, not as driven as I usually am. I want to write but the words just don't come out the way I want.

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Writer's block? Perhaps.

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On the upside, I'm happy as a birthday celebrant. Still impatient like I've always been but with an even temperament which helps get me through the day(s). This is what I need -- the real thing.

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Not so much as rant as of realization: I have two.

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Realization numero une -- The world revolves around laws. These govern the essential processes that keep everything in balance. It would be difficult to break these rules, consequences are often dramatic.

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In other words :: Although I have some qualms about my new job, being at the lowest level of the food chain (in a dog eat dog world), I feel the only way to survive would be to adhere to ALL the company policies, to embrace them even. If I wanna win, I have to play it straight. No more delinquency, no more excuses.

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Realization numero deux -- My parents are growing old. Being in their mid-50's, they've become more sickly. M' Mum's had high blood pressure during the holidays and m' Dad's coughing his unhealthy lungs out due to smoking. One time while I was listening to one of my favorite lounge cds, I saw him, thru the haze of Winston Red's smoke hovering over the dining table under the ambient yellow brightness of the chandelier.

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In other words :: It is my turn to be responsible. They've done their part raising me up and sending me to excellent schooling, I have to think of my own survival now and the ways in which I want to achieve my goals. It is my turn to make them proud, my turn to take care of them should the immediate need arise.

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It is time to put an end to the self-absorbedness for the meantime and think of others for a change. I've fixed my life a bit for now, it's time to help those who are fixing theirs.

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And about my job, my batchmates and I already passed the finals and practicals, now's the time to apply our knowledge into the real game. After this weekend, the close of product-specific training, we go live.

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