Someone called me up this morning. I think I went something like: “hello, yup, yeah, hmmm, yup, yeah, mmm…bye. I’ll see you.”
By 8:30, I was still sprawled on my bed. My alarm clock didn’t work.
Okay, okay. I’ve had one too many at the party last night. (Oh yeah, I freaking party on a week night.)
So to whoever it was I talked to at 600AM Philippine time, June 8, you need to call me again. I checked the registered calls on my phone and you are an unknown caller. You are probably overseas and I am hoping that you go by the name of Oscar Franklin Tan and you called to let me know that you earned the rare honor of delivering the commencement address in behalf of some 700 American and foreign graduates of the Harvard Law School and that you will be back next month and we will have coffee..
I got to the office before lunch. However, with the severe beating that my three brain cells took last night, I just cannot work.
So I'm blogging instead. To kill time.
Wicked. Sure.
***
They say the world is round.
But with how life has been bitching at me since April, could Galileo Galilei be wrong? Could the world actually be flat?
Three weeks before the end of my contract with UNDP, I feel like I’m standing on the world’s edge. And with the bars of chocolate that I’ve been stuffing myself silly with each night of June, it is likely that this flat plane will tilt and send me catapulting into oblivion.
Oh no, not another oh-pity-me-I’ve-been-treated-by-fate-unfairly entry. Yeah, you can roll your eyes now, and click on x at the top right of your screen.
****
Seriously.
When I turned 27, I wished for only two things. Two simple things. One, the perfect career (that is, a job that I love, allows me to use and develop my expertise [like blogging and malling], pays well and will allow me to be a wife and a mom).Two, the perfect relationship (that is, finally marrying that guy who can keep up with me, won’t lie/cheat on me, understand and love me—dysfunctions, bad hair, anorexic eyebrows and all).
By the way, I’ve already tamed my hair (for a whopping Php _, 000.00) and my eyebrows have finally grown back to acceptable shape. (Yeah, you can ask me out on a date now).
Very simple. (It's so easy lang naman to be accepted at ADB or World Bank and to end up with David Beckham, di ba? )
But let me put it this way, if I am on the edge of the world, the perfect career and the perfect relationship are both on the other edge. That, or they’re not with me on this flat world but on the round one.
****
Everyone tells me to not worry about finding a new job because there are 10,000 jobs out there.
They are so right.
It’s just that, 4,000 of those jobs require me to have an annoying accent and talk on the phone eight hours a day, the other 4,000 require me to be good in math and computer programs, the other 1,000 require me to have a nurse’s license, and the last 1,000 require me to know how to fix leaks, cook, build a house, operate a crane.
Shocks….
There have been job offers that seemed promising. The thing is, the salary is only enough to keep my body and soul together. Meaning, I will not be able to afford six meals a day (sure, I am hobbit), less or no going at all to the parlor (if only ugly will be so in), no more hanging out at my playground (my playmates are so going to miss me) and definitely, no more trips abroad (oh the anguish!).
The offices that will allow me to maintain my trying-hard, social-climbing lifestyle are the donor agencies and embassies. Most of the current vacant positions in donor agencies require a minimum of five years work experience or will send me to war ravaged territories; while embassies won’t allow me to come to work in havaianas.
I can work for government, but of course, given my conflict with Mrs. Arroyo, I can only work for either the Senate or the GOCCs, which are on hiring freeze.
***
A cliché goes: be careful what you wish for. Three years ago, I lusted for a post in UNDP. I got it last year.
My stint was actually going well. I mean, the org’s intentions— to foster democratic governance through political, justice and public administration reforms and human rights mainstreaming—among others, are indeed noble. The pay’s good and tax free, and of course, there’s prestige.
Then, the One UN Country Office Policy happened. The UNDP-NEDA Outcome Review happened. The Revision of the CPAP happened. The stress-- that made me lose sleep, turned me into a compulsive chocolate binge-r and upset my monthly period big time--happened. The people—who made me want to ram their faces against the concrete floor till they bleed and lose consciousness-- happened.
One morning on my way to work, like a crystal meth addict, I suddenly had an epiphany. I have to stop struggling and let go. The whole brouhaha is getting way too much for me to handle.
Like Job, like King David, like everyone else who is going thru shitty time, I have been talking to God. A lot lately.
So far, there was no burning bush, no writing on the wall, no water turned to wine.
But at least the fire trees and the yellow showers in campus are now in full bloom. And there is Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf at Trinoma.
And I am not going back to jail like this girl:
I also found this. It was on the book given to me by Marty.
Can you read it? If you can't, send me a message.
What was it Paulo Coehlo said? That when you want something, the universe conspires for you to get it?
Paulo dude, I hope that that universe you are talking about is this same universe I am in right now.
P.S. (from Grey's Anatomy)
I've heard that it's possible to grow up - I've just never met anyone who's actually done it. Without parents to defy, we break the rules we make for ourselves. We throw tantrums when things don't go our way, we whisper secrets with our best friends in the dark, we look for comfort where we can find it, and we hope - against all logic, against all experience. Like children, we never give up hope.
No comments:
Post a Comment