mixed!

Sept 5, 2008
Home

Industry is temporary cure for melancholy. What would I wake up in the morning for? 90 days in my current source of income and I still have mix feelings. Positively mix! I still have those days where my head needlessly question what I really want and where im really heading to. I enjoy traveling, it gives me the feel of being someone else plus the rush of being someplace else. Moving gives me the enthusiasm that all my answers and solutions lie somewhere along those long highways and, those occasional bumpy roads possible epiphanies. Permanency lulls me, my soul restlessly wandering and seeking, but recognizing that traveling is beyond geographic transport, its an experience. Its not always fun, soothing and safe. You don’t always get smooth rides, worse the risk of mishaps. And its not always the destination, it’s the people your stuck in the ride with. Travel safe, travel light, and the best advice – travel happy greta! Who knows when you’ll run out of gas.

coming and going

i woke up geographically home, feeling bruised, tired and in need of more sleep. the 4pm trip to Valencia City was a painful thought. I prayed for a miracle, either the trip would be cancelled or i would gain enough strength to last 5 days on the road.

I was more bruised, dead-tired and had disturbing circles under my eyes by the time we reached Valencia City. It didn't help that it was raining and the car airconditioner from north pole was turned on the entire trip. I am more convinced than ever, my bosses needed to trim down their body fats, hypothermia will definitely kill me, and not those troubling milf/mnlf.

the trip to lanao del sur was uneventful, meaning no bombs or gunshots were thrown our way. the supposed ARMM conflict won't wither my bossess travel plans, we work for its development (char!). Its not really as alarming as my friends and relatives who bombard me with are-you-ok-text-messages! I refuse to dwell on the negativities, i need every joule of energy to do what I am paid to do.

sleep will come tonight and my day will end end thanking GOD for the miracle of safe passage he always, always provides.

happiness index on the road

last week we traveled more or less a thousand kilometers in just 4 days. so much for green living and reducing my carbon footprint! while traveling is my ultimate high on life, I am not ahmm let's just say a cowgirl! I am not so forgiving with the restaurants/eateries we are forced to dine in. some municipalities just have no jollibees and mcdonalds which i've considered HOME.
well, they do offer heart-warming welcomes and hospitality, just not the security of safe water, add to that the trauma of possibly digesting something less than what is considered fitting.
the thought of upsetting my stomach somewhere far from decent toilet facilities and the horror of dehydration and enduring countless toilet trips is therefore the best excuse not to eat.

picky is not even the word to describe me. maarte, too harsh. i am forced to become selectively accepting of what goes into my intestines. if i may borrow Silas words - Doubt is Good!

so the Jollibee road sign along every long highways is corporate social responsibility working for my health and sanity.

civilization is thus reduced to the number of kilometers the next Jollibee outlet is situated, conveniently waiting for travelers with discerning stomachs.



note: author not paid by jollibee corp.

needlessly angry

anger is such a baggage. the irony of saying that matter of factly from someone who lives and breathes it. I am admittedly an angry person, highblood mo lang! and yet it took me another person's anger to realize that I just might be carrying something I could do better without.

and so the story goes...

ms culturally different from me berated me for inconveniently causing her to lose her appetite because of my reminding her that we were following a supposed scheduled for the study tour I was now what I considered unfortunate to be part of. by my standards it wasn't disrespect, given she was munching for almost an hour. by my brand of work ethics, respect is democratized. it wasn't disrespect, just part of the job description.
and so she rants and threatened this would reach my superior. and so the trauma of actually feeling inefficient,
ill-mannered and yes undeserving of the job I have once considered lucky to have.
having accidentally entered a room with her cursing me to bacterial- level actually made me feel headless. the trauma of hearing someone reduce you to something your not. I died that instant.

I died and realized she can't be what she claims to be and yet not acknowledge that I wasn't insensitive to her stature on the society she belongs to, I was simply ignorant of some cultural laws that orbit their planet. I know ignorance is no excuse, but im actually paid to coordinate activities and it naturally involves time management and avoiding delays. I do practice courteousness, maybe just not enough for the royalty she is considered to be. so there, kill me!

I apologize to her highness sincerely. It wasn't just saving ass, I might actually be saving the head i felt I already loss.
if there's any good in having my head served on a plate, it was for the first time I opened up to my boss and I got just what I needed most, a pat on the back and good words for the troubled soul.

ms culturally different handed me the rope and I'm not hanging myself, anger and indifference will be on its feet with no flat surface to step on. humbled, I now pray for consistency.

serial bed-hopping

i live in a suitcase. one destination to another. everything temporary and disposable. every hotel room warm with every hot bath it can offer. But those boring hotel rooms, frigid with every turn of the thermostat. cable tv doesn't count as entertainment. you may live as you please, but it just doesn't heal sore souls.

i live on a suitcase and i don't bother using hotel cabinets. these cabinets trick me of normalcy.

But really, every traveler knows every destination ends with the need to get home, unpack, sleep and get over the things that every destination tries to make of you.

finding moi

Traveling a year after my mom’s accident was therapeutic. I cried with every inch of the road. Every road led me closer to my mommy. It reminded me of her journey, her journey to be with my dad. I cried buckets and buckets of tears. I felt the wheel needed to turn so I could finally heal and forgive myself for not being the daughter my mom deserved. With every destination, I come and go with hope that the pain will wither.

Now 3 years pass her death, and I’m on the road again. Traveling gives me the escape I need. Traveling never lulls me to sleep, I enjoy the scenery, think of my mom, do a lot of retrospect, I think of my own time when I’ll be saying goodbye, and I find peace. I find myself over and over and over again.

My mom’s in a better place… and I know she’s happy I am where I am – on the road!

bored bitch fit

I am forced to come and live in cotabato city. Work demands that I show up here. Normalcy is so hard to fake. Routine is so hard not to master. I can’t spell BORING and not press the caps lock key. I can’t tell you how boring it is and exaggerating is totally necessary.

I wake up to the sound of my board mates annoying disregard for people who still might be sleeping at 6 am. I am forced to take a bath because water has its own drama of not supplying enough when everyone’s rushing to work. I dress up, stare into space, brush my teeth, stare into space, and pretend im running out of time. I miss the morning rush in Davao. The need to get on the jeepney like everybody else. The loud ticking of the clock, and the killer stares u give the driver “puno na lagi, kahinayan ni manong oi”! Here, I cross the street, take a short jeepney ride, and I am so there! And I don’t look at the clock anymore, it’s a splash of cold water on my face every time! Heller nagdali ka manang!

The day drags on, and before I know it, the work manual says I should be heading home. I pity the chair, im the only life it has, it must miss me during off-work hours and worse weekends.

I go home, dinner already has become optional and forgettable. I go home and miserably hear my board mates TV volume at bomb-proof level. Hello gibombahan nata wala jud ta kadungog! My board mate’s annoying disregard for other people’s ear is really a great test for my patience. He still is anatomically complete. I’m just not really sure for how long.

Ah yes, my before bed hours I spend (right after the board mate decides to give our poor ears the rest it deserves), I wickedly listen to my ipod, singing at the top of my vocal chords, with the annoying board mate knocking on my door…poetic justice huh!