I'm getting worse each day

Last week, while unwittingly consuming carbon monoxide during our 30-minute ride from Binan to San Pedro, Laguna, Lance and I engaged into a reflective conversation which led us into agreeing how our current life activities seemed to have become unproductive and "unlike us". I haven't been coming to work on time for the past 2 months. I'm always late and I'm afraid I have consumed most of my sick leaves for the last year to cater my nocturnal habits and idiosyncrasies. I'm reaching my work quota, though, despite my numerous "undertimes" and tardiness. I also tried going to work on Sundays to make up for my half days during Tuesdays and Wednesdays because of graduate school. I'm really trying, you know. However, each day at work seemed to be dragging me down into being a lowlife. School, friends, Lance, pets, and home are the only elements of excitement in my life right now. I'm afraid I'm becoming someone I have always sworn never to be--a slob.

In our conversation, I reluctantly swallowed my pride and told Lance, "lagi ko naiisip... hindi kaya lahat ng kine-claim ko sa sarili ko puro front lang para ma-establish ko identity ko sa iba." (I've always been thinking. . . is it possible that everything I claim myself to be is merely a front to establish my identity to others?). I was looking far ahead of me avoiding his eyes. I was afraid his eyes would agree. He didn't say anything at once so I decided to elaborate more (still not looking at him).

"Lagi ko sinasabi mahilig ako magsulat. Hindi na nga ako halos nakakasulat sa journal ko, ng stories ko. Laging 'di natatapos. Sabi ko mahilig ako magbasa eh yung huling librong binili ko di ko pa natapos." (I always say I love to write. I haven't been writing on my journal. . . I can't even finish my stories. I said I love reading but I didn't even get to finish the last book I've bought.)

"Tinatamad ka na kasi, mahal." (Because you're becoming lazy). He softly responded. I was so ready for his answer that I almost nodded in agreement simultaneously. Then he shared that he, too, is having the same dilemma. He enjoys freehand drawing so much and actually has the time to perform them but he would just end up playing in Facebook or watching his favorite anime. We're both afraid that we'll lose the skills if we continue on tolerating our procrastinating habits. It's like we're having some extreme “mental block” which is severely affecting our productivity. This is why Paulo Coelho's tweet about routine is very timely for me, “Don't allow routine to transform you in[to] someone you're not.”

Indeed, I am transforming into someone I hate to be. I want to go back to my old self who always finds the minutest light in the darkest places. I know I may not be making any sense. Work is draining me--the nature of it and the management which poorly handles it. It sounds bad to blame the very reason why I am enjoying graduate school but I can't help it. So, before I start on ranting and complaining about work, I'd better publish this one and start believing again that everything will soon be alright.

an argument about a rotten reality...

I initiated an argument with Lance last week. It revolved around my accusation of him being "unpressured" because he is still currently reviewing for the board exams. I insisted that he is unable to understand my frustrations and worries because he is not compelled yet to find a job. He appeared very positive and patient with everything despite the numerous rotten possibilities that he could fail the board exams and his father could retire anytime soon. Writing that sentence just made me realize how foolish and envious my accusations are. I could not have been clearer in emphasizing the fact that I am working and he is not. So when he retorted that I could not just see and imagine the pressure that his course (Mechanical Engineering) and upcoming board exams have on him, I bombarded him with my thoughtless claims that "school pressure" and "work pressure plus the discovery of the real rotten world" are two different things. He told me that I know nothing of his current academic ordeals and worries about his future to which I responded that I am more than willing to have our situations switched and go to school than to face this dreary place they call reality.

The heated argument gradually turned melancholic when we finally realized how we are both displeased and frustrated in different ways. I succumbed to the poignant truth that facing reality without teachers and a second home is far more difficult than I have imagined. I have always been the adventurous type of person who loves to encounter challenges and experience unfamiliar things; however, this past months have revealed far too many unfamiliar yet disturbing realities about the world and its people. I discovered how all these years I have viewed the world with naiveté by constantly believing that there is a certain goodness in everyone's heart. Nonetheless, the new encounters and meetings with strangers proved how selfishness and conceit can topple that goodness aside. I told Lance how the world looks much different on this side than on his and wondered if he would catch a glimpse of this place in my type of point of view. Sometimes I doubt it though I am quite sure he would. He has always been the stronger and optimistic one--a dramatic foil to my character. His judgments has always been more accurate than mine. I guess he already had an image of this place before I had the chance to encounter it. He is always like that anyway--knowing things and keeping it hidden until time demands its revelation.

Of course, we made up after an hour of arguing. We have always enjoyed arguments, though. Arguing gives us the chance to speak what's on our mind without being overly sensitive with each other's feelings. I guess that is why we always end up fighting especially when the subject is related to religion and Jude Law. Nevertheless, our argument about reality is one of the most remarkable ones because we end up agreeing (which seldom happens) and sympathetic with each other.

the unfulfilled writing career.

I have not been writing for a long time now. Funny, 'cause I work as a researcher/writer here in Makati Ave yet I have never really felt like a writer at all. I got motivated to blog about this frustration while I was listening to some OPM (Original Pinoy Music) songs last night until 2 in the morning. Then, this afternoon I have read a good friend's blog [Gusto kong magsulat] about how he missed writing so it just triggered the frustration further.

I do not hate my job. However, these past few weeks I am starting not to like it either. I guess the pressure and stress that the work delivers are making it hard for me to appreciate its once promising purposes in my career. I do not know if its because I am growing tired of doing the works or the system. All I know is I am growing tired and restless.