Mood: Fine
Now Playing: Crash Into Me, Boyce Avenue Cover
Up to the present time, writing is still hard for me. I'm out of practice. Out of sync with, well, the natural order of my being. I've been complaining about this for quite a bit now, but to do something about it somewhat unthinkable. I still have two unfilled notebooks, and to touch them reminds me too much of the things that I have to do.
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I haven't properly talked about work yet, have I? My official title is an HR interviewer at BackCheck, a Human Resource firm that provides pre-employment background checks on different clients around the world. Basically what I have to do is to pull up a bunch of people's files and talk to some people. I'm not really sure I can go onto specifics, seeing as it's a company which is pretty big on security and all that... so, yeah. Or maybe I'm just putting on an aura of mystique and importance, haha. Nah, kidding; I'm not really sure though, and I don't want to lose my job.
There is one thing I'd like to recount though. On on occasion, as I was ending the call, the person I spoke to said how glad he was that some people actually do the extra mile to know who they're hiring. I was pretty lost at that. Up to that point, I haven't been thanked properly. People just do the notions, y'know? You get to find that out pretty early. Saying "thanks for your time" and hearing "yeah no problem, goodbye" gets to sound pretty mechanical from early on. And I dunno, just getting thanked in that way is such a suckerpunch to the gut. Pow. For a second, you matter. You are appreciated.
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Talking about work is taxing. Mainly in that what I really want to do for the rest of my life isn't exactly a desk job such as this. But the pay is really good, and I feel lucky to be earning a bit. It's a jarring experience to shell out a hundred pesos for food since you know you actually worked for that bill. But the jarriness fades away when you realize that you actually worked for that 100 peso bill. It feels good, to be honest.
There is also a certain time during the month that you ask yourself what you really want to be, what you really want to do, and it mostly comes during payday. Everything is put into perspective. How much money are you going to put into your "for the future" funds and how much of it is going to that camera you've always really wanted but haven't got the moolah to get.
Things like these sometimes keep me up during the day (I can't sleep so well at the night anymore). But I feel really grateful that I still have a home to go to. And well, not have bills to pay.
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Going home one morning, I had this sudden urge to see the sea. I dropped off the bus at Baclaran and started trudging towards the bay area of MOA. Ang jologs, ikr. But I stopped for a bit at the subway by Blue Wave to get provisions before I continued walking. It was a weird experience to walk through an empty parking lot, and it's one of those memories I think I'll remember.
As luck would have it, that Sunday was the UAAP cheerdance competition dance, and at 6 in the morning, FEU thought it was appropriate to mingle around the stadium. I turned tail away from the crowd and found a spot near the end of the area, near some oldies who were stretching for their morning run.
The sea was still as dirty as ever, and the salty smell of seawater with just a hint of garbage wafted through the air. I breathed it in, sat on the cold and slightly wet ledge and waited for the emotions to come. They were not sad or anything, but it's just a really weird feeling when you come to a particular place and suddenly realize that you've been here before, and you were not alone.
I stood up at around 8 in the morning, and picked my way through the already growing crowd of students. It's funny, really. How sad we feel sometimes even when we have so many people crowding our space.
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To the me in the future, please take time to travel. Preferably for a month. That is all.
