So that's how you treat people who care for you, huh? You're so dense and indifferent it's unbelievable. I just want a damned answer and until now this is what I get. Silence. Fucking silence.

Nobody ever deserves this, Kevin. I wonder where your fucking manners have gone. You are asked for answers, give them. Even kids know that. So that one's fucking soul may go in peace.

I just hope you don't treat others the way you treated me, because as much as I wanted to get even and make you feel even at least half of what you made me feel, I don't want you to end up being alone. Because I care for you, and if you find that offensive, I'm sorry.

First Anniversary with Alex Mann

If I am to follow the plans I have laid out for myself when I got here, this is the part where I'll be leaving.

But I won't. I have realized that a year is just too short to accomplish a lot of things you have set up. A year just flies. Like that. I now understand that a year is just too short to nurture you and prove yourself.

In that one year I was part of a team, lost it, built another one, yadda yadda... Seriously, that one year is actually the longest and the shortest of the 21 I have spent on the face of the earth. Times were the longest during those moments that I cried inside bathroom stalls. Enough of them already.

These times are for celebrating.

Celebrating the fact that although I still haven't proven myself in the past year, I still am happy that I am here. Thank God for landing me exactly in the place where I am supposed to be, where I will grow intellectually,  emotionally, even socially. I never realized I could be this happy and contented in the company of friends and people. It kinda gets awkward saying this to my mates all the time, but I really love them to bits.

I guess one will always have a certain emotional to all the firsts--in this case, my first workplace, first office mates, and first line manager.

While I write this I am in my usual spot--and there are some things that you'll never really outgrow I guess--I still have a messy desk (complete with Noel Gallagher's photos) and a bunch of CDs on the pedestal, just like what I had in college. My desk. My home for nine hours the least. And I am happy... and proud to know myself enough to tell you that this is not some form of cognitive dissonance.
And having a Rookie of the Month Award, a Contributor of the Quarter Award, and several projects on my belt--for the first year and on the first job, I think it's just fair to say that I'm on the right track.

Here's to many more, Alexander Mann.

Onwards.

Week in Post: Re-branding Me, Tagaytay Brekkie, and a Geeky Fight Scene

Yes. I just had one of the best weeks in a long time, I can't believe it. It was mental.

It started just one of the regular weeks, really, until Thursday when I had a re-naming party. It's the first time you probably heard that, I as well have never realised I'd have a party thrown for me just because I'd be changing nicknames. KC is dead. At least the KC they used to call here in the office. They're supposed to call me Karen from now on.

I had the need to change names because we are supposed to have a new team member called Kaycee, and blimey, she can't have a nickname because her name is a flippin' nickname already. I can't imagine anything else you can derive from Kaycee. So having two first names for an alternative, I was *quite*forced to be the one to adjust my name. I'll be Karen instead.

People in my hometown (ooh I sound like a delusional rock star) and my family call me Karen so there's no big deal out of it. I'm just not used to people I just met calling me Karen, but I guess I'll be used to it soon.

They threw a party for my name change and Nadine's birthday. Partied like it's 1989.

What made me accept the name change is this, to be honest:

Special message all the way from England <3

THEY KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE NOEL GALLAGHER!!! (I even have this photo on my Wonderwall in my flat).

CS Global Shared Admin Team, you are the bollocks.

***

Saturday morning I was dragged to an impromptu breakfast. It would've been acceptable if it's just a McDonald's breakfast or somewhere near but no--- it is in feckin' Tagaytay, way way south of Metro Manila. And I don't even have cash with me. Good thing there's an ATM across the restaurant.

The breakfast was nice but I am afraid I didn't get my P310 bucks' worth of food. I just had friggin' bacon and omelette all the way. But it's better than what my other friends had; they took a lot on their plate but can't finish it. They had to cut their day short and made a trip home to the toilets instead of enjoying Tagaytay. Poor blokes.

Look ma, empty plates!

Scenic view outside, Nestor doing quite a pose there...

But for the laughs, I must say that it was the best trip ever! We had Micmac, one of the team leads, as the driver (meaning we didn't have to pay for gas and toll mmhm).

When we passed by the area near the airport, one of my friends Kris pointed to the sky and said "look, there's an airplane!" the airplane looks like it's flying a little toooooo low, and the next thing it was coming toward us. Good thing we still saw it on the other side and I am not blogging from my grave as of the moment.

After having our breakfast we picked up some pasalubong from Rowena's, home of the best apple pie ever! Seriously, try it guys. I'm also happy that I finally got a hold on a jar of choco flakes. Quite expensive compared to when you get them straight from Baguio though, but still nice.

Also dropped by Nuvali and let our friend Kris indulge at the Aldo outlet shop there. Meanwhile I enjoyed a tall serving of Lemon Yakult Milk Tea from Serenitea.

On the way home was the cherry on top of the blimmin' awesome cake. SLEX is being quite a right bast*rd because of the traffic, but then Kris noticed (you might notice that she's always the one who take notice of things, right) two men on Darth Vader and Optimus Prime masks, just roaming around the expressway like it's the most normal thing to do in traffic. Just freakin' roaming around!!!

Being cheeky freaks that we are, we waved at those lads (they're on the lane to our left) and asked them for photos. They waved back and pointed the camera to us -- they have been filming the entire scenario all the while!

When traffic was finally moving, albeit slowly, the masked men's car was right beside ours again, and we must make it a point from hereon that Micmac's car is actually a Mitsubishi Strada pickup with an open back. Those bright lads rolled down the window and shouted at us: "bukas ba 'yang likod nyo?" (is the back of your car open?) to which we answered yes. We all knew what will happen next.

"Pwedeng pasakay?" (can we ride with you?)

Not minding the impending damage they might cause to the car if ever, Micmac let them do it. Or so i thought. The next thing I remember is Darth Vader and Optimus Prime hitching the back of the car we're in, again--like it's the most normal thing to do while in traffic.

Surprise! That's a flippin' Transformer at ya

This--a Star Wars-cum-Transformers Mashup

We can barely contain ourselves and we laughed throughout their entire stint. I even took a video (you might wanna turn down the volume):

Best strangers ever.

All in all, a top week. Got to attend my cousin's wedding on Sunday and was the veil sponsor for that one. Don't wanna show photos because I sport horrible eyebags from the day before (no sleep, you see). But I'd like to believe that the weekend did me good.

Onwards.

That awkward moment when you know you've written a song but don't know how to put a tune because you can't play any instrument aside from a blimmin tambourine

Now I know how Liam Gallagher feels. I need a flippin' counterpart to Gem Archer to help me make this a proper song. Otherwise it's just a piece of useless rhymes. I now surrender and acknowledge that everyone can be a writer, but only a talented few can be a songwriter.

And for me, music is some sort of a moody kind of thing-- sometimes it's about the lyrics, sometimes it's about the tune. Sometimes lyrics that mean nothing, when mixed with a good tune can somehow mean everything to you. Try listening to Supersonic and Champagne Supernova you'll know what I mean (not to mention that until now we don't know what a Wonderwall is).

Earlier I was reading the Noel Gallagher NME special and it dawned to me, what do Noel and I have in common? Yes he can play the guitar and build his one-man band and I can't, but does that mean I can't be him in my own way?

So I started a revolution from my bed. Literally. I got up, got a pen and paper and started scribbling down what seems to be lyrics without a definite tune on my mind. I'll leave that to a friend that can help me (although I still don't know who that person is).

I finished writing in less than an hour. I pity myself that I can't play the guitar because my fingers are too short, but having started my little stint, I think I'm gonna try once more.

I won't post what I've written just yet, but what came out is a marriage of Oasis and Dashboard Confessional. At least that's what I believe it is, because two of the best songwriters for me is Noel Gallagher (obviously) and Chris Carrabba.

If you know how to play the guitar and can help me out with this, send me a message and let's form our own happy band and I will be more than pleased to write lyrics for you.

I'm serious.

The Good Fight

Life only revolves around three central topics: Love, Faith, and Death. The first can be shrugged off as non-existent, but it does, at the very core of each living being; keeping the second will always be a constant struggle until we are brought down to the third, which is inevitable.

I grew up in an environment of boys. I used to play more toy swords and ninjas than teddy bears and Barbie dolls. I spent the summers of my childhood selling ice pops around the village and playing video games with my all-male gang. There has even been a point in my life that I absolutely thought I was a boy too, so I pee standing up. All my childhood experiences wouldn’t have been as colourful as they have been without my brother, my cousin Dawe, and a family friend, Kuya Onel.

Kuya Onel was the oldest among us. I remember he was already in high school when I was in kindergarten, and with that my parents always trusted him to take charge of all the little ones. My mother took him in as an assistant back when they still made bags for our living and sent him to school in exchange. He wasn’t really too old, I guess he never had enough of his childhood and he still played along with us. We even have our names carved on the old wooden closet that was given away a little before we moved out of our old house. “May Marc Karen Onel. Bubble Rangers For Ever.” It was the 90’s, and while other kids the same age as kuya Onel got into glue-sniffing, we were addicted to Bazooka bubble gum. They were both sticky, all right.

We were not blood-related, mind you. But the relationship that we had stuck like those chomped-up Bazooka under our wooden sala set. When I was in grade school, kuya Onel moved out and lived with his family in the city where they simply made ends meet. We rarely got to see each other, but he and his sister ate May (who was also part of the Bubble Rangers) remained to be the closest ones to us.

It was when I was in high school that I had news of kuya Onel having been diagnosed with severe Tuberculosis, a recurring illness in their family. With the disease having already killed their grandmother and an uncle, kuya Onel was determined to fight it off. He wanted to live a normal life, and though thin and sickly as he had always been, he still managed to build a family and have a bright and bouncy son named Russell.

His lungs never got any better. Every now and then we would receive news that he was rushed to the hospital, being on 50/50 for more than once, and we provided assistance as much as we could. Some days he is better, but on others he was so weak he can’t walk. But still, he was determined to fight it all off, still giving words of advice for ate May whenever she runs to him with her problems, and keeping the faith he always had. He trusted God and if he is to go, he’s ready.

Being ready, however, does not necessarily mean he wants to. If only he could, he would stay for a little longer, watch Russell grow up and spend more time with his family. These are things that we could only wish for. These are things that we all wished to have happened, but did not. One sunny afternoon in May, Kuya Onel breathed his last, from the suffering lungs he dealt with for the longest time.

I never cried upon his death, nor am I crying now. I haven’t even got the time to visit him on his thin, frail body’s last days on the face of the earth, before it was buried deep into the ground. Though I knew that he wouldn’t last as long as we hoped he would, I still can’t concede to the fact that I will never get to reminisce with Kuya Onel again—the one who I spent happy weekends and summers with, the one I grew up with, and the one who I roamed around the village with whilst selling ice pops and buying a lot of corn cheesedogs from the change.

I remember his face as I write this, and I am glad that I cannot imagine seeing him on a sad state. I will always remember his toothy smile, and his eyes that shrink as he does so. Kuya Onel has always been happy. He stayed positive. He held on for as long as he could. He kept the faith.

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day —and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing. 2 Timothy 4:7-8

You are missed, kuya Onel, but we know that you now have the peace you deserve… in a place where there is no pain or suffering. I’ll never forget. We never will.

Let me tell you about an article that I just published...

I recently had the privilege to write an article for the company magazine. Ergo, an article that would be read not just in Manila but all over freakin' Europe and several other countries. Scumbag article got to London even before I did. Anyway, it was published on the AMS website the day it got out:

Believe me, I am over the moon. It's been a while since I wrote something... err... professional and actually readable and understandable by many--as opposed to my heart-wrenching/fangirling blog entries here that are only understandable by a handful (not to mention are only found by a handful, as this is an almost non-existent blog no one actually cares about).

So I took the chance to screenshot it and paste it here so that it will live on forever--or at least as long as this blog exists. But what makes it even more special though, is an email I received from my boss's boss that I have took a screenshot of as well:

"We love having you"---from my boss's boss. Enough said.

 

I f*cking love it here.

Just a quick entry, I hope.

Today is the 22nd anniversary of the day God decided to send this world my favourite creation of His. Of all God's creation, this is one that I chose to deem with much importance and place somewhere close to my heart. He may not be able to read this, but I just want to shout out loud how much I am thankful that this day was made 22 years ago---because on that day, an angel was born. I still wasn't born on that day, but fast forward 20 years later, that event made the world seem colorful to me.

He may be an imperfect angel, but that's what makes him all the more perfect. He showed me that an angel also has a vulnerable side. I love it when that angel tells me his struggles; it somehow makes me feel that I also have some of the things that can make an angel complete. When I talk to that angel, I feel closer to home.

But loving an angel can also be painful. He may sometimes get lost while dancing along the light of the day, or maybe sometimes be busy on other responsibilities that he just forgets about you. I don't know if angels really do that, or he may just be a special case... after all, he is just a 22-year old masterpiece with a lifetime to spend in order to be perfect.

I'm not sure about how this angel feels, but I never got to talk to him like we used to again. Though I am not sure if he found someone better to mend his wings when he lost all the will to fly, or if he felt strong enough to reach heaven that he does not need me anymore, nothing's changed. If there is, it's just I loved him even more for his strength to go on his own.

I hope you reach your heaven with or without me. I miss you.

Happy birthday, Kevin.

While my officemates are talking about hair and makeup for girls:

Male officemate: 2 hours?! Ang tagal nyo naman mag-ayos!
Female officemate: Hair and makeup yun friend. Matagal talaga.
MO: 2 hours... ano yan, movie?!
Me: Oo, sa pag-aayos mo ng buhok nakatapos ka na ng isang Indiana Jones movie.
MO: So kapag head-to-toe, Star Wars Trilogy, ganon?
Me: Ten Commandments.
MO: Kunsabagay, mahal na araw naman e.

One year from now...

Dear Self from one year ago,

So how did your thesis defense go? I mean your first thesis defense. You'll be thankful to those people that seemed to kill you before now cares for your graduation a lot. You'll graduate on time and it will be the proudest moment of your life. Trust me. You will have his name (three given names, two-word middle name and last name) at the end of your thesis acknowledgments, just as you wished.

One year from now you'll look back at it and still be amazed how you got away from all the shiznit alive. After the revision, you won't be able to open your thesis manuscript until you had to refer to it while editing a friend's thesis--yes, you will help a friend with his thesis. You can't open it not because you curse the final manuscript to the deepest pits of hell, but because you know for yourself that it's 90-something half-baked pages that could have been better if not of the circumstances brought about by your respondents. One year from now, OrCom students will come to you for help and you will not deprive them of it. You will, in fact, make a pledge that you would uphold the pursuit of academic excellence (or somewhat like it) in any way you can because that's the least you can do to help them. If only your thesis respondents thought the same way as you do.

After your graduation, you will stay at home all summer looking for a job, and finally get one a week after classes officially start. I'm sorry darling, but no matter how hard you try to avoid Human Resources, you will inadvertently land there. And I am telling you this now, you will learn to love it that you actually see yourself in the industry in the long run. It just sucks that your cover letter for that PR role wasn't enough to do the trick--I thought it was kick-ass too.

One year from now, you will be in a top recruitment company based in UK and your body clock still wouldn't have changed as you will work with counterparts in the Americas (ergo, the night shift). One year from now you will realize that your thesis manuscript has nothing to do with how you start your career--it is what you have learned and experience during its making that would. At this moment I know that you have already learned the virtues of patience and optimism, and I kid you not, working like mad as long as you see a hint of light at the end pays off eventually.

You will encounter difficult clients and even more difficult teammates to work with. You will contemplate resignation for at least ten times and cry in toilets. A year after you first tried to defend your thesis, however, you will write this and realize how good your life is and that your company values you a lot. You will "Strongly Agree" to a survey item that states"I will not leave this company right now". You will be awarded as Contributor of the Quarter on your first quarter at work, and your excellence will become a special case in the company that you will bypass regular employee processes. I'm not telling you this to swell your head and give everyone a middle finger, saying "I don't need this, suckers!" Do not be proud as you read this. Do not neglect every little thing you do. Do not be grumpy when things don't go your way because they can only get better. Trust me.

One year from now you will write this using your personal office computer while on a 1-hour break. You still have your headphones on but you will listen to Oasis (mostly), Arctic Monkeys, Franz Ferdinand, Jet, The Smiths, and The Beatles instead of your thesis playlist. You will finally be aware of the fact that Wonderwall is not the best Oasis song there is (but it will always remind you of his scent and how he juxtaposed his body against yours as he tried to know what you listen to). You will have an unexplainable admiration for a man named Noel Gallagher (if you don't know him you can google it up) who is 23 years your senior and you will secretly wish you were a British girl born in the 70's who was in Knebworth's biggest gig in '96. You will have changed a lot of your views in life, you will have established a stronger personality, and you will listen to music that you used to skip on MTV, mostly by British rockstars who used to sniff cocaine during the time that you were just learning to recognize the five basic senses. In the end, however, you are confident that you have grown up more than you have grown old. It's only a year hence.

I can't wait until you get here. It will be the wildest year of your life so far.

Onwards.

In a bit,

Yourself (only a year older)

Career Objectives

 

GOOD LORD DID I JUST---