Friday, June 25

Scene Le Officine

Ok, now that's really bad french. But, needless to say, at work there are different characters that make up a nasty bungle of neuroses you have to struggle with everyday...but then again, it might be you alone who is neurotic....pun it

The clown, that him. He always has a fresh set of jokes to crack at work, on lunch breaks, or virtually everywhere we go as a group, and yes he never fails to make us laugh and guffaw. How he packs a punch. But talk to him about books and politics, and he's gone into thin air faster than he could throw a bad wind to cap his gag. No wonder everyone indulges him, even if he squeezes a teeny bit of idiocy in his work sometimes. I envy him for his laidback attitude in life, a stark comparison to my uptight self.
The geek? Probably none....

I'll attribute 95% of my company's workforce (a hefty number 6!) who deliberately ignore the bundy clock's droning of fur elise to signal lunch break, because they are busy at yahoo chatrooms, and then get up to have lunch at a mall 5 mins drive from work, only to come back at past 3pm because they had to play billiards or buy a blank cd for a broken cd-w. that's everyday. the 5% is me and me. and yet the 95% had the gall to complain about leniency.
Spice girls, we're not. The only two girls are her and me, and eventhough things are not spicy between us, she isn't almost a kindred that i can share girly stuff with. I find myself quite withdrawn especially when i sense it's her "we" want to talk about that i know the true nature of her intention. isn't it ironic and emotionally debilitating to be thrown into a place where you don't exactly like the person next to you and yet you're compelled to, for the sake of world peace? i'm sure she finds me a quintessential bore, but would she be mad if i thought she were a fake?
Celebrities? Yes, we have our share of the celebrity, the know-all if you allow me. they are the ones who think have the best opinions, who try so hard to be cool in what they do or say. oddly enough, i can always feel the rickety interior, trembling in its ineptness and insecurity, and i always fear the moment they might disintegrate and i get buried in the rubbles.

The world record holder....and sheesh, he's always the cause of my exasperation, a virtual pain in the ass who tortures me by asking questions 1000 times before he gets my answer.

The leather guy? Oh, now this one is a classic, and thank you, we have one around. he'll be here forever and ever, doing his stuff, giving the lowdown to everyone he meets, eking out his bread and butter out of what he can squeeze from the company. by hook or by crook. fortunately, i've learned to work my way with him. scruples and all. i'm not alone in saying that i'm sure.

WEIRDOS, that's probably me. Me, me, me, and my corporate gripes.

Thursday, June 17

The Masseuse

Have you ever tried one of these things? A chair massager? I just did today, on my lunch break. It's located a discreetly in one of those little corners next to the tykes gym at the exit of Rustan's in Alabang Town Center, which is a breezy 5-minute walk in the sunshine from my office.For a measly P19.99, you get to snugly sit there for three minutes and have your head to lower back rudimentary massage, just like the one done by a professional masseuse. And how! For three minutes, I was enjoying a back rub that seemed like forever, and relishing being rubbed the right way with the right pressure. I could not complain one bit, it's almost like human hands. To tell you honestly, I've been bothered by a case of scoliosis for years running, but never really tried going to a therapist. Well, I actually did, a couple of times, but I wasn't quite satisfied with the service. Well, dear me, I'd make a killing for this chair if it's gonna cost me my lunch money,everyday. That's the cheapskate in me. Well, so what??

I'm definitely going back.

Wednesday, June 16

Seven Habits

These last few nights I’ve been reading my husband’s book The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen Covey. It’s almost a tattered copy now, frayed in the edges, thanks to my once careless handling. It’s basically one of those coaching books that I hope don’t make me run into tiresome platitudes, but just straight to the point, useful insights. I’m just on my second "habit" anyway so it's early to tell. Oliver is an aficionado of this kind of literature, and obviously I’m not. I’m more of a jd salinger kind of thinker who finds bliss in the neuroses of oneself and of the world. But, before I stray off into any further mental torment, it’s best to exercise prudence when working on the book’s objectives, singular of which is to know one’s Character. The key to being an effective person, it suggests, is to work the issues from the inside out (meaning the character), to have better control of the outside-in (personality) circumstances of your life. More or less. But I’m quite doing this thing on my terms. First because I have never bothered to sum up my character before. Sure I have the 100 Things about me Meme going on, but it’s only as cheesy as it can get. So who am I? I’ll probably attempt to look at it in two parts:

1.Empathy (which could otherwise be a weakness unless used with forethought)
5.Imagination (??? - the walter mitty syndrome)

1.Lack of ambition, focus or direction
3.Temper, or lack thereof
5.Fear of confronting reality

Right about now, I realize that it’s healthy to be just in between, and not to drive oneself to impossible lengths to be a Perfect Person. I mean heck if you ask me, what matters most to me is personal happiness, never about money or artificial success. But rarely do I care to add that being happy entails having a full stomach, a roof to shelter one’s head, clothes, good education, respect of one’s peers, or owning things that satiates one’s physiological needs. Neither am I inclined to be a bum, get wasted, and live on other people’s compassion. But are those all to it? How about surreal things like song and poetry that we cannot rationalize and yet can restore the dankness of our spirits? Is our existence any better if we have everything of the former and nothing of the latter? How about the tibetan monks who lived in seclusion, fed in poetry and prayers and yet were undoubtedly elevated to kingdom come by doing away with all their worldly cares? What is the more important hunger?

I’m still going to read the rest of the book, and maybe change a few things about me, but I’m not going to be any preachier than this already is. As the gritty French would always remark, take me or leave me. It’s between the devil and the deep, blue sea.

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Wednesday, June 2

Paradigm Shift

Donkey of the Shrek fame had always looked up to his master-cum-bestfriend with a certain amount of awe and trepidation. And yet he had the audacity to tell him in his face how fat he stands a chance to be liked by the in-laws he was about to meet, because he was a sullen, cantakerous, dour face of an ogre.

Sometimes we need a friend as honest as Donkey to gently budge us out of our undesirable state of mind and look at the brighter side of life.

Unfortunately for me, there is no donkey for a friend to watch my ass and tell me how it's sticking out...I had to figure all things out for myself.

Just a few days ago, I was ranting about shortsighted co-workers. I even went to the extent of calling them mice. Boy was I really boiling that day! I snapped at my officemate Paul, who by the way, had nothing to do with my crossness that day but was snapped at just the same if only to validate my righteous anger with J and make my point. Poor paul..

And then I upset another officemate Rex by mincing uncalled-for words which weren't meant to sound sharp or harsh but because I was feeling rotten, had sounded like slur anyhow....

Meaning, in one afternoon, it seemed to everyone that I was freaked out, all ready spoiling for a fight. I wasn't. I was just terribly angry at myself for not being able to express my feeling of anger and resentment in the right way to the right person without sacrificing my self-dignity.

The rage comes first, and blindly I fight through the rest of the day moping around but never getting my message across, even when I'm dead sure my subject of contention has noticed the v-e-r-y sour face looking straight into space.

That very moment I wished the quintessential Dr. Phil was around to give me invaluable lessons on anger management. Oh pleeeease, as if..

But once all the steam had gone off and I had cooled down to my senses, I begin to take stock of things that happened.

Paradigm shift. Shift from one value to another, from ideal to the bestest. Evil to goodness. Black to white. Sumthin like that...

I found myself in the early morning of the second day of my self-imposed War against the World, texting Paul and making my apologies. It took only that and I was replied with a forgiving "it's okay, no problem" text. Such a relief, that I have actually forgotten how I managed to be angry with J for vague reasons.

I appreciated the feeling of emancipation from my rut, so I wasted no time saying sorry to Rex too, who met my apologies with some doubt but with acceptance. Mission accomplished. Everything is well that ends well.

Well, not really. I'm slowly trying to forgive J. Although he hasn't an iota of what I went through these past few days...isn't it ironic?

If only people don't give me shit.

Then I won't have to making any rubbish of a blog like this.

And I hope my husband reads this.

Tuesday, June 1

More of Moi

Today’s 20 things about me meme (doesn’t that sound funny) will consist of loves and hates:

41. I hate my eggs over-easy. I prefer to have everything well done.

42. I love the way rains make tiny puddles on potholes on the road.

43. I hate discussing religion. I guess it’s like stepping on one’s sacred grounds without spiritual consent.

44. I love England, and its woods and its coldness, and its people who seem to wear parkas all year long, and make intellectual intercourses with their characteristic drawl, beside the hearth, with their great English tea, which makes me all wish I was born there.

45. I hate noontime game shows.

46. I love period movies.

47. I hate, I hate, I hate Britney Spears! and all her pathetic gyrations and ugly costumes.

48. I love the scintillating scent of peach.

49. I hate boy bands. Are Boyz II Men and Shai boy bands? Becoz they are the exceptions.

50. I love the aroma of freshly ground coffee. It takes me to unspeakable cerebral heights.

51. I hate people who are smug and assume they own the place they walk into. I think that an excessive amount of self-confidence should be better left to the narcissists. The world is overcrowded with bloated egos that are threatening to blow up any time; so more people should get down from their high horses and walk the ground.

52. I love the way my child blows tiny kisses on my face in the morning when we awake.

53. I hate it when he whines and screams and gets frustrated that I don’t understand what he wants.

54. I love Nina Simone and her deep mysterious baritone voice; Astrud Gilberto for her cool bossa nova flair.

55. I love to sing, although I tend to be uneasy doing it in front of two or more people.

56. I hate anything concerning math. My head begins to get in a confused daze when I look at numbers. It must be a voluntary reflex.

57. I love to hear about my mother writing poetry and short stories. I’d like to keep a memory of her that way; it inspires me to be like one.

58. I hate my father’s chain-smoking.

59. I love to travel.

60. I hate fat obnoxious greedy sexist chauvinist pigs.

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