power struggles
I was supposed to write this entry a few weeks back but laziness won over. Since I had another round of the power struggle today and a couple of days ago. It wouldn’t hurt to expound on my misadventures.
Leaving my former company made me miss a lot of things, the people, my corner cubicle, my laptop and my hot japanese boss whom already left, but most importantly, the scheduled shuttle trips from the train station to the office which beats the long lines at the Fort Bus (which was before tolerable I don’t know now), and the 50-60 peso cab ride.
So it’s been nearing 4 months in my new company. And the first few weeks were agonizing. I was baffled when i stepped into the maniac streets of Buendia (Gil Puyat). across the street from where I was standing were lines of people and masses walking about running into cabs Fxes buses and of course, the ever popular Guadalupe-Cartimar jeep.This was the mother of all jeeps as it goes through all the way to Makati Avenue which traverses through key places in the Makati CBD that would take you two jeeps if you go PRC->Bel-AIr Washington.
The route is as follows
Buendia LRT-> (streets like Dian and Bautista)-> cross south super -> P. Tamo -> Crispa -> Ayala (RCBC) -> Shell Maya -> MIT -> Reposo -> Tawiran -> Makati Ave -> Kalayaan highway to Guadalupe.
I was near tears when I couldn’t find an empty jeep. It was such a power struggle, me the n00b competeting with the veterans who have been doing this for years. I stood and gaped and wondered why some jeeps just rolled past.
As the days travered to weeks, the weeks into months, I started to get the hang of it. From across the street I would walk Roxas bound until I find the jeep that I want. Since I don’t have a tight budget, I would basically ride anything that is not a Cab. If I’m lucky and early, the Guadalupe-Cartimar would be near the PRCs waiting for passengers, If I was not so lucky like a few days ago, I ended up in Roxas before getting into the 12 peso aircon jeep. There was one desperate time that I ran after the jeep rolling away shouting CARTIMAR CARTIMAR until the barker saw me and stopped and I got on gratefully. I have tried from Jeeps, Aircon jeeps, FX and even the two stops jeep.
Not only do I have to run after the jeeps, I have to face all the people trying to ride on it. being small and eherm sort-of agile, I can dodge all the corporate-clad people in high heels and dress shoes that i could easily outrun in my flats or flipflops which caused my silver havianas to die from stress. If I was lucky I can snag the good seats which is near the back, if not, half of my ass would be jutting out from the seat from the wide-open-leg seating of some insensitive male species whom I cannot blame if their balls are really that f*cking big and folding over it hurts like sh1t.
So those were my morning commute-capades that are good stories to tell to amused colleagues and friends. In the evening, I purposely wait for rush hour to be over while trying to even catch a jeep. Going home requires 4 jeeps and an Lrt ride or another jeep ride if I’m visiting my boy. If via buendia its just 1 jeep of FX if I’m lucky.
Unfortnately I may have some weird commuter bad luck because I have never riden a Guad-cartimar jeep on the way back that much. And since I prefer my comfort than running around ragged and silly like the mornings, I like to take the more relaxed way back.
But when times like huge gusts of wind and approaching rain is in the picture. I was as hurry to get home as everybody else, or wait until the rain stops like everybody else.
Since I opted for the former, I was at the Petron P. Tamo station waiting for the PRC-LRT jeep which to my surprise were all MIA. There was a bunch of people waiting for those crucial jeeps to come by.
While everybody was sitting ducks. It was a time for me to formulate my game plan.
Since they round either at the corner or at the gas station I stood on the corner farther away from the street, that way, I can see the jeep either moving towards the gas station or turning to buendia.
I let the semi-full jeeps pass because I was in not mood to play musical jeep chairs. I know from my seat-thirsty instincts I can get on a half-empty to empty jeep no sweat, I have to play my moves right.
1 jeep, 2 jeep, then BAM! an empty jeep turned towards buendia.
Off I went running in my Ipanemas, I cut through all the people waiting and stopped at the back of the jeep, heaved and hauled ass and basically let the corporate people eat my dust and pwnd them.
I sat grinning like I won some race, as the people struggled and scrambled to get in I was breathing heavily and mentally patting myself on the back for an award winning commute performance.
Some people think commuting is a joke. It’s not. It’s a fucking sport especially in the Makati area. Where everybody is ruthless with greed for getting into the correct transportation.
Those are my morning and evening power struggles. It keeps me alive, and I know everyday is not the same.
A real entry. (Because I still can. :P)
While waiting for the latest source code to download for a particular workspace, I would like to reiterate several moments starting last Sunday. It was a week without certain obligations and responsibilities, the person went back to fulfill some duties he sorely missed so I told myself to keep busy this entire week. I went on a whim and bought a lot of books, more than I could read in a span of a week, and started this little eherm, “Pilgrimage of Loneliness” as I have said to a friend, who laughed and told me I was becoming emo.
It was a Monday. So I park my diminishing, full-tank Silver Altis into Powerplant like I always did for the past 2 weeks. I got out carrying 11 minutes, my backpack stuffed with dirty clothes, and my wallet. I went to Joya, found the beautifully designed 7-11 at the Manansala and bought some cigarettes. In which I was contemplating which coffee shop to make my mark. I spotted a Figaro at Joya, but settled to have a Hazelnut Latte at UCC.
I sat comfortably and began to read about the story of Maria, who, was once upon a time, a prostitute. It was interesting as well as intriguing to have such a strong and inquisitive character to be led of a path that is completely familiar for us but we tend to shove it away, making it an underground dealing with society.
The air was cool and the sun has barely risen from the the plants where I was hidden smoking stick after stick until the shade wasn’t high enough to save me from the heat. I went to work full of anxiety and doubt. Like I always have when I went home and faced my mother again. But it will be different tomorrow.
Tuesday rolled around and we were off to a late start. My sister told me today that she ended up in school at 8am (her work starts at 7:30). And I was having a hard time looking for the Guadalupe-Cartimar jeep since the rush hour crowd arrived and I was already nearing Roxas before I was able to jump into one alongside other commuters for the ride to work.
I got to the office at around 8 as well. I grabbed my book, a wallet and the quickly diminishing carton of menthol lights and did the 10 minute walk from our building to the Columns, I was growing to love that place and I will miss it when we move near Makati Ave. but let’s not dwell on that.
One small street, one underpass and a huge intersection later, I was at the gorgeous 3 tower building of the Columns, and I headed to my favorite coffee place, Kopi Roti, ordered Coffee and toast, and settled myself outside reading and drinking and smoking and feeling basically euphoric.The toast was warm and delicious, like honey-butter, and the coffee was perfectly bittersweet.
It was a very nice day.
30 minutes later, the toast were reduced to crumbs and the coffee was nearly through. There was a need for more so I went in and ordered another cup, this time Milk tea, and went out to read again. The words of Paulo Coehlo was endearing and luscious to the brain and gently squeezes the heart with affection. The simple humor inserted to the story was enough to give me little smiles and released an aura that was bright and golden, like the sun that day and on the clear blue sky.
Halfway done, I got up and wobbled back to the streets. My heart and mind was totally at peace. And it made my soul smile for real for the first time after a couple of months of breaking down in tears and all the other angst that should have been erased in my teen years was present.
I continued on passing steel and glass buildings of modern architecture, people all rushing to get where they’re supposed to go, all of them look like mindless beings, each going to start the day and wishing that it is already finished, those who have ended the day and wishing it would soon start again. And those who pray for the weekend to come until they pray for another weekend. The cars, jeeps, buses and taxis all follow through the same route. Their horns blared through the streets.This was how the whole Makati Central Business District looked like in my drunken eyes. Drunk in a sense of new found realizations all for those silly hours in a coffee establishment with my feet propped up the chair, in olive green gauchos and a flowery white blouse.
I walked and wondered what the people that I passed by were thinking. The enlightenment that I had discovered made me a bit more like my old self, the person who I was when I was still away from Manila. The one who thought that you can only achieve happiness by leaving.
But I am here. And I felt the same way 2 years ago. Skipping along IT park, slurping an Apple Ice Lolly in my hands and feeling free, the same person last year who had the sense of reason to live and go to beaches, eat nice food, go to theaters and go home as late as I wanted.
I don’t have all those things here. But I know I am lucky for a lot of reasons.
I went to work feeling better about myself than how I felt that Monday.
After 8 hours, lunch, and the journey home, I stood at the not-so-usual side of Buendia, instead of the MSE building, waiting for a jeep to pass by.
Being spoiled at shuttle rides and the ever efficient but not so MRT, I had a hard time adjusting to the crowd at Gil Puyat, I forced myself to go LRT->MRT->Ayala loop, but I got over it, and I am as ruthless as they are. But a tad more logical. And I say that without arrogance.
When I was dropped off at the Japanese restaurant at Buendia, I was able to see a Divisoria jeep. And I hopped on and took a trip that revolved many parts of my life.
I have seen various sightings of San’s old car, the lovely Crosswind that he used to pick me up and drop me off my house. The streets where I ran after Ogie when he was running away from me. I saw the SM Fairview FX where he would always ride to and from school, the now widened entrance of South gate, where I saw Mark again, and the fake columned gox building which was a home for 4 years and where I met Ben whom we took on graduation, side by side and seated on the same cubicle at work until it was time for our resignation. I got off at the church and walked towards home. I nissan sentra like the one Otep had and driven me around Cebu ran pass the place where I was baptized as a Catholic. The grocery which I prowled for this certain type of noodles that I never saw anymore. I walked pass Benavides, a street with either a “z” or an “s” it will always be an “s” for me.
It was only Masangkay street, but I was already feeling the lethargy, I took a break eating fishballs and continued until I reached the little bridge where I pass by to go meet people from St. Stephen, or the only sole date I had with my first love, amongst twister fries and coke. Then it was my old alma matter, a place full of broken dreams and unrequited love, but I found true friendship. People who’ll stick by you no matter what, from the Devon Sawa, Andrew Keegan jokes, the beautiful old snail mails, cheers and jolly hotdogs, and all else that is wonderful.
Pure nostalgia engulfed my senses as I was reaching the endpoint of this mini saga. It was the 5 minute walk home. There was a time when Lunch can still be taken outside the school, I met a friend whom shared the same walk and book preference.
At last here is home. The five-story building which I remembered clearly my 6 year old self, trying to stuff my clothes in a little metal suitcase. But only the bathrobe fit. *laughs. Where I spent most of the days now in my room glued to my laptop or sleeping, or getting home “late” (Define late), and basically having either fights or silent treatments and the wanting to leave quickens then sort of settled.
This was how my Tuesday ended. I was full of thoughts, but not one made me feel like the world owed me something, but mostly, it’s me thanking the world for giving me such a colorful life.
I am beginning to see how pretty life can be. I hope I take those thoughts with me each and every single day for the rest of my time here on earth.
alone time with tea.
Today, I got in early for work (punched in (rather fingered, LOL) at around 8:05). And decided to “relax” for a bit and I took a walk to KopiRoti at the Columns. I had my heart set on a hot cup of milk tea whilst on my way to work. The cool breeze when I got off Buendia seems like a perfect match.
I left my things, and proceeded with the 15 minute walk. Skipping and going down flights of stairs and jumping off escalators until I reached the busy Ayala-Buendia intersection.
The sky was a blue with a spread of grey and white marshmallow clouds. But still a nice persistent wind was blowing.
I got to KopiRoti and ordered Hot Tea with Milk and waited outside their tables and striped chairs.
It was nice to space out for once. Not worrying about anything. Enjoying the morning, when the Tea came all nice and bubbly from the pulling, I sip and at that exact moment winds rushed by to let me enjoy a hot and cool experience.
I was pulling and pushing smoke. I was enjoying the quiet little time. I knew because goosebumps were traveling along my arms and a blush rose to my cheeks.
I always feel that way when I’m near euphoria.
After around 30 minutes of just doing nothing, It was time to head back to reality. I walked out from the Columns to be greeted by the rush of traffic, the throng of people crossing in and out of sidewalks and streets, and me between everything.
It was a wonderful morning. And got even more wonderful to see a sealed envelop with a check for this month’s pay :D.
I hope this is a beginning of a beautiful day :)
A feigned toast to me
I wanted to end the day with a drink. It could be anything. A shot of espresso or tequila, a bottle of vodka cruiser or a san mig light. It could be as plain as oj or as special as a mixed mojito or some long island ice tea.
Just to give a toast to my new beginning.
Here’s to looking at you, kid.
my wondertwin.
the new and improved wondertwins.
When I heard that he was resigning, it was like a sock in the stomach, a knife through the heart and a slap to the face. When I knew only 30 days were left, I was a barrel of emotions. Shock, pain, grief, denial, anger, worry, panic, sad, disappointed, surprised and maybe a hefty more others that I cannot remember but I feel.
You don’t spend 6 years with someone close only to taken away in an instant.
And talk about pouring rock salt, bitter and gashed into the wounds.
I didn’t want to hear him say his goodbyes so I went around and took pictures during the time he was saying his final words in the office.
2 work days has passed since he left…and I go to the office in tears and very disturbed. The empty seat next to Helen was screaming. When it wasn’t him tinkering on the server next to me, it feels weird, and when I look for him if I wanted to drag someone for coffee or to talk about work stuff…
I found him not there and I would cry silently in my seat, shoulders shaking. When we had a brunch out with the project mates, I knew someone was missing. And when Helen told me.
Sick leave…it’s been two days
I knew he wasn’t really there and I had to give myself some dignity and hastily wipe the tears that escaped from my eyes.
I tried to joke about it, but my voice breaks and my eyes have grown swollen and smaller than the usual, forming into horizontal slits.
He was a big part of your life
And he really is…
…I really don’t know what to say.
snow!
what snow…
in my 2.5 years of stay at the company, I haven’t landed on the rising sun to have felt the how you say this…the magical snow.
it’s all in a matter not really being contented with what you want. you live in the tropics you want to see some snow. you live in frostbite falls, you want sunny weather. it has always been the age-old argument day after day. it’s a nice change of pace. but nobody wants to trade in what they have. uh-uh. I love the beaches here
now where am i getting at? i don’t really know either. but all i can say is the closest thing i’ve gotten to even touching snow is shaving the sides of the magnolia freezer with my numbing hands at the supermarket…
bow
kudos to unprofessionalism and sticking to principles
It’s not everyday I get to witness people stand hold of their principles and yet when these moments do arrive, I am in awe. For most of the time, I have seen people just jumping along the bandwagons just because almost everyone is doing it. It was strangely pathetic and yet understandable.
Nobody wants to be left behind and nobody wants to fall out into the dark either.
The pressure may get to you, but I don’t think I want to stay in the clutches of someone just out of face, especially if people around you pull tricks so low just to get you to join them.
I wish they could’ve at least have some small sense of professionalism, or decency. I wanted to barf from shame, that I knew these people and they disgust me.
But thank god, someone knows how to stand ground, and say no. Those I think, are the people whom I really respect, quality as they say, over quantity.
nihongo all around
this is one of the last few days of studying, no, cramming, for the JLPT, I am currently here in the office, posted for 24 (or rather 32++ hours) of support for our Japanese clients. These are the moments that I get to enjoy 32++ hours of freedom of sorts. Pseudo freedom. Since I can only go out of the house without much suspicion (or with) if I use OT(overtime) as an excuse. Which is more often. I really am on OT. Much to my mother’s paranoia, I sometimes stay at the office till 10 or 11. or even until the next morning, and I go home bleary-eyed having traversed through lanes with my gaze in slits. And my mother trailing behind me as I went to the thankfully short route towards my bed, changed clothes and tumbled into slumber with her nagging in the background as my lullabye.
Some things I really hope will soon change.
Anyway, back to the actual title of nihongo all around. I hear people jabbering random phrases and vocabularies, people’s monitors ablaze with Meguro lecture notes and what nots, kanji quiz programs and the like.
Me? I wanted to study, I really do, each time I flip open the book or look at the quizzes my eyes just go out of focus and I get tired. All I do now is listen to the tapes and try to get nihongo through conversation. And god it still makes me sleep.
Argh.
So, this is it.
It has been another usual day. The usual pondering in the glaring screen. A little gelato treat to lift the spirits and to soothe the soul. the soft and powdery flavor of cappuccino and mangoes have brightened my mood on this rainy thursday. And I treated Helen to her melon gelato which have eased her stressed predicament since the whole DD phase.
When the e-mail came of his cake and gift, that’s when the realization hit me, it will be his last day, and I was far away to be able to clap to the speech and make the usual dry comments that made me, me.
17:00 hours, and the speeches began. I have missed the 0.75 hours busy editing my code only to be reminded by the little boy that the speeches are over and that was that. The ultimo adios of the Super Engineer, Bomberman addict, Ned-Ad guy, Pillar of NSP, one of the greatest people in the office, and simply put, my friend.
It had the same feeling as when she left. A sick little pang in the stomach. No tears in my eyes (it’s difficult for me to cry lately…), but I know I’d be missing a lot. The laughter, get-togethers and talks that may or may not be continued in the future. But I can safely say I have gathered enough memories for those two years to relive the memories over and over again.
Let go. But never forget.
To grow means to move on, and people are growing. Left and right, they have sprouted wings and have risked to take flight, away from the safe cocoon and into the vast skies.
Soon, I will be flying as well.
じゃ、また あとで.
