I've been mulling over a few things lately. If it were up to me, I would rather not talk about it. I only get confused and that upsets me. These days, I feel like a duck in water. And I feel such a great need to paddle even more furiously with each day that passes. I don't even know what I'm swimming towards to at this point. Or if I'm going anywhere.
Wednesday, July 9, 2003
12:03 a.m.
Anything longer than six months is a serious relationship isn't it? If that's the case then I must really have commitment issues. I think the longest that I've worked for one company is five months. I always bail out right before it hits the six-month mark.
In a span of two years, I have been an operator, a writer, a publicist, a web developer, an event organizer, a teacher and a girl friday. And somehow, I am never satisfied. They don't give me enough work. I find them too negative. They give me too much work. The money isn't good enough. It gets too routinary. It's a dead-end job. The reasons (excuses) are endless, it seems. I don't know why I get so restless. Most of the time, I feel like I should be doing something more important with my life. Not that I'm saying other people's work are insignificant. In fact, I have a high respect for people who are committed to their careers. My problem is, I don't think I'm very career-oriented at all. Not in the usual sense of the word anyway. For me, having a job is a means to an end. If I can find a way to make good money with the least amount of effort, that would be great. That way, I can spend more time with my family and my friends. I can write more. I can devote more time for my other projects. I can enjoy my life just the way I'd like to.
For once, things feel right. I finally resigned from my old cube job and I've never felt better. My asthma doesn't act up as much. The headaches have become more infrequent. And I actually have my irregular period back! I really feel right at home with the new company. I don't have to be so corporate. The money is really good. It's only ten minutes away from my house so I get to save more. They take care of everything. All I need to do is to show up and perform well. Pretty sweet deal for a job with no pressure, don't you think?
Now, you might think I'm just being one lazy ass mofo.
I would beg to differ.
I'm not being lazy, I'm just being clever.
Tuesday, July 1, 2003
12:09 a.m.
The boy's gone. The boy's gone home.
What will happen to a face in the crowd
when it finally gets too crowded?
And what will happen to the origins of sound
after all the sounds have sounded?
Well I hope I never have to see that day
but by god I know it's headed our way.
So I better be happy now that the boy's going home.
The boy's gone home.
And what becomes of a day
for those who rage against it?
And who will sum up the phrase
for all left standing around in it?
I suppose we'll all make our judgement call
We'll walk it alone, stand up tall, then march to the fall
So we better be happy now that we'll all go home.
Be so happy with the way you are
Be so happy that you made it this far
Go on be happy now. Please be happy now.
Because this is something else,
this is something else.
I tried to live my life and live it so well
But when it's all over is it heaven or is it hell?
I better be happy now that no one can tell, nobody knows
I'm gonna be happy with the way that I am
I'm gonna be happy with all that I stand for
I'm gonna be happy now because the boy's going home.
The boy's gone home.
Saturday, June 21, 2003
09:08 p.m.
I shouldn't be here right now. I should be on a roof deck with my college friends, eating dinner and drinking the night away. But I flaked - no call, no show. Whatever, man. I don't really give a shit at this point. I'm still trying to figure out where my place is in this world not to mention struggling to forge a career for myself. I would be damned if I found myself hanging outside a bar/cafe again with my twenty-something-highly-ambitious friends from college and/or high school. There we would sit, perched on our chairs, reminiscing about the past, stressing over our lives while they chainsmoked the night (and our future) away. Not that there's anything wrong with hanging out or chainsmoking but I feel that we want different things in life now.
I listen to their stories and their gripes about life --
"He doesn't call me anymore! He must think I'm a loser."
"I got accepted into law school and into so and so University, what am I going to do? If I pursue either one, how do I know it would guarantee a high-paying job?"
And just to make things interesting, they make a point to gripe about how I live my life --
"It's so hard to get a hold of you. And when we do, you turn us down because you've got to work that night."
"Are you still working at that call center?"
"Why don't you come and work with us? We have plenty of openings right now."
"You know employers wouldn't find your work history appealing."
There was a time when I used to enjoy the company of my friends. I just find the whole ritual a complete waste of time now. Instead of getting down to brass tacks and getting things done, they just stew over things and rehash the same stupid problems over and over again. What gets to me is how they seem to have an idea of how I should be living my life. And that puts me off, quite strongly. I feel like they limit me more than they help me expand my horizon. When I'm around them, there's so much pressure for me to be like them. I have to conform if I want to keep hanging out with them, as if I'm not allowed to be different. They're so fucking elitist I want to slap myself for even wanting to be around them.
It's funny because growing up all I wanted was to be like everyone else. I wanted to fit in and I worked hard at it. I made sure I had the same things everyone else at school had. I never dared to talk about my gay brother and his gay friends or about my violent and temperamental second brother. Not once did I mention that my dad would come home drunk at 4 am every single day. I wanted to be normal so much, I never gave out straight answers when it came to my family.
My priorities have changed now. My idea of a good time is cruising down the highway on a rainy Saturday morning with Donna Summer blasting through the car speakers. I would actually prefer a nice quiet breakfast with my family than getting shit-faced drunk on a good evening. I really couldn't give a shit about what other people think. I always thought that my life was terrible but I look around me and the people I grew up with and I realize how colorful it actually is. Dysfunctional at best, but colorful nevertheless. At least I'll never run out of stories to tell. That's so much better than ones I have to put up with.
Thursday, June 12, 2003
06:22 p.m.
I haven't felt like writing in a while. It's not like I've been extremely busy. It's all been work and home for me these days. I'm not very enthusiastic about many things either and it's not PMS. Just haven't felt like going out, don't feel like talking at all. Sleep and watching movies are pretty much the only things I look forward to these days. I actually skived off work again last night just to do that. When I start getting this way, my friend insists that I am transitioning again. I don't even know if that's a word. But he could be right. Of course, there's always a reason why. My job is making me miserable. And so another saga begins. Things are going to change around here soon enough. This site is going to move and improve. I'm enrolling in Aikido class this weekend and I'm quitting my cube job soon. For those of you who aren't in the loop yet, I already got a replacement job but I'm still playing it all out. I'll let y'all know about it when I finalize things. Ta!
Monday, June 9, 2003
07:29 p.m.
Who dares wins!
Friday, June 6, 2003
06:05 p.m.
In two weeks, a total of five people have resigned from my team. People aren't happy at work anymore and I can see why. I've been at this cube job for almost six months now and I am already sick of it. I'm sick of taking calls. I'm sick of never having enough sleep. I'm sick of being harassed by Americans. It's not that the work load is crazy, it's fine, really. But I can't deal with the night shift. The Americans at work can't seem to understand that when in Rome, you do as the Romans do. They incessantly compare us to our supposed American counterparts in Texas, Arizona and California. They say we have the most absences out of all the centers. They say they find our lack of support unnerving. First of all, we work the graveyard shift. You can't expect people to be as perky like the sun at your doorstep particularly when they work at such ungodly hours. Second of all, it's a known fact that keeping irregular sleeping hours is not good for anyone. They demand complete attendance with 100% quality performance. Are they insane? I've been sick more times in three months than I've ever been my whole life. Of course it's all psychosomatic but that's besides the point. The point is, I don't like what I'm doing anymore and apparently a lot of people share my sentiment.
I am starting to suffer from resignation envy. All the good people are leaving. They've thrown their hats over the fence because they know better. They've freed themselves from the harrassing life of DA service and I cannot help but wish I was in their shoes instead of the ball and chain that I wear now. I wish I could do the same but I've told myself I'm not quitting until I find a replacement.
But I keep thinking about growth, y'know? So I get another job, then what? When things go sour, I quit and find a new job? I've been out of school for almost two years and what have I achieved? My employment history is a Recruitment Manager's nightmare. I go from one token job to the next, fluttering along without a care in the world. Bailing out at the first sign of inconvenience. Maybe my friend was right when he said that I haven't grown at all. Nothing has changed. I don't feel like I'm moving forward at all.
Some might argue that I have no discipline, that I have commitment issues. Just deal with it and grow up, they say, stop being such a brat. You can't swim to your own current. You've got to swim with a school of fish if you want security, if you want to go far. And I see it happen with the people around me. Friends getting married and having kids. Friends going corporate and making loads of money. Friends going off to law school. Friends pursuing their Masters. And here I am and all I want to do is to write stories, to design postcards, learn Aikido and set up that damn fry place.
But this is more of an issue about movement rather than an issue about my career. Work is work and it pays the bills. It does what it is meant to do. I worry more about my growth, more than anything else. I know that I'm meant to do something more in life, more than just swimming with a school of fish. But what constitutes growth in one's life anyway? If I buy a house and settle down? If I earn a six-figure salary? If I have several degrees to my name? Does it mean that I've grown as a person? And if I don't attain any of that in my lifetime, does that make me less of a person?
Sometimes I feel like Ferdinand the Bull. Everyone wanted to fight in the bull ring but he just wanted to sit under the tree and smell the flowers. I don't remember how the story ends now but I envy Ferdinand. I envy Stripe and Yellow because they wanted to fly so much that they were willing to give up being a caterpillar. I envy the Prince because he always knew that only in the heart can one see rightly. I envy the Velveteen Rabbit who was real because the little boy loved him so much. And I envy the Circle who endures a difficult journey to find his missing piece only to realize he is happy without it.
Sunday, June 1, 2003
04:31 p.m.
There's no shortcut to experience -- the reading and writing processes that aids one's work. But it's been said that what may not be teachable are the qualities of sympathy, empathy and open-mindedness in the author that also contribute to the effectiveness of any particular
writing.
Friday, May 30, 2003
01:36 p.m.
Remember, if you're looking for love...
you get what you fucked for.
Monday, May 26, 2003
06:13 p.m.
I went out to get some errands done today. Got me some nice Faber-Castell watercolor pencils and a sharpener to go with it. I used to sharpen manually (re: using a cutter and whittling away) so it was always good to invest on a nice solid cutter but these days, I simply do not have the time anymore. Anyway, I'm a happy puppy, I have new watercolor pencils!
On the way home, I decided to see if there were any new releases at the local video store. I couldn't decide which one to rent! The Project Greenlight Stolen Summer, Girlfight, Shaolin Soccer or Ringu 2? I am such a geek, Ringu 2 won out in end. When I handed my ID and cash at the counter, the lady gave me a huge smile and said, "You and your sister are members here, right? You know, you're much smaller than she is." Yes lady, I know. I have smaller breasts compared to the C cup that my sister has.
Some kids feel overshadowed by their older siblings, I am overshadowed by my younger sister's huge breasts.
Sunday, May 25, 2003
10:09 a.m.
Although Sundays were never a favorite, it has become my day of refuge. After a week of sleepless nights and restless days, I would rest on the seventh day. Or so I thought.
My brother is one gay ass mofo. He knows how much I don't like being disturbed when I am recharging. He knows how much I need to sleep because of my crazy working hours. So what does he do? He walks in, sits on the bed and wakes me up because he wants to watch his fucking Barbarella movie. He could've waited when I woke up from my sleep -- I only need a total of five hours anyway -- but no, he insists that he has to watch it NOW. I would've sat right up and bitch slapped him but fatigue can be such a drag. I didn't want to argue so I relented, thinking maybe he'd grow a conscience and be more considerate. And does he? Of course not! It would be asking for a miracle. Fuckin' gay ass mofo.
In addition, I find out he didn't feed the dogs as we agreed on three hours earlier. He has great timing. He picks the most convenient hour to watch his movie just when I am trying to catch some shut eye. He could've used the time to buy the dog's food and do the dishes but the bitch doesn't do it. He's my brother but believe me when I say I have my reasons for not wanting to live with a flaming homosexual. I do not want to be kept up late at night with Whitney Houston's music. I do not want to accidentally find gay porn scattered around the house. I do not want to find books about socio-political pro-gay literature on the coffee table when my friends come over. I do not want someone constantly bitching next to me while I'm trying to watch my movie or show on TV. And I most certainly do not want to be woken up when I am trying to sleep just so they can watch their fucking Barbarella movie. Enough. This is useless. I simply do not want any more aggravation.
Tuesday, May 20, 2003
02:09 p.m.
So I had this brilliant idea one morning while I was eating my fried rice and eggs for breakfast. My sister and I have always talked about setting up our own business one day, maybe a salon or a restaurant, or both.
Anyway, I know I've always told myself that I was willing to work hard to to help this family stay afloat. After all, my Mom has done an excellent job and I believe it's high time I do the same thing for my family. Now, I've been working for a total of two years now and although I still find myself squirming from one job to another, getting all restless and shit, I realized that all it takes is an objective. I have my objective but I can't seem to figure out my standards of measurement. What are my hallmarks of success? I know what I have to do for them but what do I want to do for myself?
And then it hit me right between the eyes. So I'll call it Joa's right. A hole in the wall kind of place. It'll be nice, cosy, affordable and all it's going to do is sell fries. That's right, I'm talking about french fries. But this won't be some greasy diner. We'll have nice little booths, comfy lounge chairs, airconditioning, little coffee tables and bottomless iced tea. We'll serve sandwiches, subs, salads, pastries, drinks, frozen yogurt and of course, fries. Hash browns, tater tots, baked fries and french fries all served with a dip of your choice. We'll have poutine, tar tar sauce, sour cream and chives, garlic dip, mayo, ketchup, nacho cheese sauce, dijon mustard, honey and mayo, blue cheese, cream cheese, gravy, barbeque -- every imaginable dip you can think of!
And it's going to be the only one in town. Who wants to hang out at Starbucks or Seattle's Best or at Figaro, UCC or Struand and Tang's? Who wants to drink the same coffee at the same coffee place talking about the same movies everyone just watched, dressing like everyone else and getting the same haircut at the same salon? Who wants to be a lemming when you can hang out at Joa's -- anything goes really because it's all going to be about the fries!
Friday, May 16, 2003
07:21 p.m.
In my efforts to look and feel healthy due to my insane working hours:
I drink (1) 100 ml milk box in a day
I drink 1000 mg of Calcium
I drink 1000 mg of Multivitamins and antioxidants
I drink (1) glass of Mango juice with every meal
I eat fruits, nuts and cereal for lunch
I never skip breakfast
I eat freshly chopped tomatoes for breakfast
I have sworn off beef and pork
I moisturize
I buff
I sleep as much as I can (even while at work)
I never take anything too seriously
I pray
Work is getting so ridiculous.
Any other suggestions to de-stress?
Friday, May 16, 2003
07:13 p.m.
When I was 14, the nuns at my school gave out these pink slips of paper during home economics class. We were told that as well-bred catholic school girls, we were expected to remain chaste and virginal until we are married before God. We were then asked to sign our names on these miniature vows of chastity.
Now at 23, I believe the nuns were quite successful in raising an educated and well-domesticated Filipina but I've long since lost the contract and have now decided that it's time to find a suitable mate to lose my virginity with.
I will not require marriage, but I will require wild unadulterated sex and plenty of mental orgasms. I need a man who will run around me in circles during conversation and make me laugh.
Priority will be given to applicants who are single, straight and solvent. Placeholders need not apply.
Tuesday, May 13, 2003
01:51 p.m.
Something like "I apologize"
Something nice two can't decide
But it only gets better
And I want to say that it's not always easy
- but it's simple that way
and I want to stay and play it out,
but I still have my doubts
So you say it gets better, shit
It only gets better
Beautiful things can never stay the same way
They pass, they always change
But who we are is who we are
and the act of love can get us so far
So good, I wish you would think twice on me
It only gets better
You'll see
and promise me you'll only be better
Saturday, May 10, 2003
07:35 p.m.
I came across Parry Shen's site the other week. With the success of BLT, I found it interesting that not once did he mention his ethnicity on his site or in any of his interviews. I immediately wrote him an email asking whether this was a conscious effort on his part to establish himself as an actor as opposed to establishing himself as an Asian American actor.
A week later, I received his reply:
Hey Joanna!
I didn't even notice that my ethnicity wasn't on my site -- it wasn't conscious but I guess it shows that I really don't think about it much. Not even thinking about establishing myself as an AA Actor or just an actor--I'm just out working hard and doing my best at something I like doing.
But if people ask, I'll tell them I'm Chinese but other than that there's really never a reason to bring up, "Hey, I'm Chinese!" I equate it to when my brother's friends say, "How come you never mention your brother in your interviews?" Well, it just never comes up. What I do has really nothing to do with my ethnicity.
Hope that answers your question!
parry
Most would argue that this movie should have been more representative of the Asian American experience. However, it seems that the film itself has taken on Parry's philosophy. It is an honest story about American kids in high school who are for the most part, good-looking, smart, funny and almost completely lacking in morals.
Nothing more, nothing less, nothing else.
Thursday, May 8, 2003
07:17 p.m.
In the news today, an elephant escaped from the Circus! Nothing exciting ever happens around here. Bomb scares? Politicians threatening to resign from their post? President delivering her State of the Nation address? What is that compared to an oblivious elephant walking the streets of Manila! The best thing was that it all happened 15 minutes away from my house.
I wanted to run out and join the crowd gathering on the streets. They had a big water hose aimed at the ivory-tusked elephant to keep it cool from the rising Manila heat.
Apparently, it was on its way to a show at the Araneta Coliseum when it escaped from its trailer. How it ended up near my neighborhood is something I will have to find out.
Monday, May 5, 2003
10:34 a.m.
You called me up at around 10 in the morning. You were looking for the Danbury Orthopedic. I wanted to do my best to help you. I asked you if this was Danbury, Pennsylvania. You told me it was. I thought our conversation wasn't going to last any longer than forty seconds but I couldn't even begin to find the city of Danbury in Pennsylvania. I figured I might've spelled it incorrectly but you sounded so impatient, I didn't want to ask for the spelling. I tried alternate spellings, I even expanded my search to 200 miles. I even made sure to ask all the right questions.
"Do you have a street address?", You said it was on Danbury Street.
"Do you know if this is part of a larger firm or hospital?", You kept repeating Danbury Orthopedic.
I kept apologizing for the delay. I thanked you for your patience but you were slowly growing irate. When I asked for an area code, you finally lost it. You snapped back at me, yelling and cussing without restraint, telling me what a dumbass I am and how I probably didn't even have an education. I wanted so much to get you that listing but you didn't even give me a chance. I raised my voice and asked you if this was the Danbury Orthopedic on Danbury St. in Danbury, Pennsylvania.
You exploded and yelled, "No, it's in Connecticut! Who said Pennsylvania!?"
By this time, I was as annoyed as you were, "You told me this was in Pennsylvania. I verified the city at the beginning of the call and you agreed to Pennsylvania, Sir."
To which you replied, "No. I never said that! I said it was Connecticut."
Resigned to your piggish behavior and your lack of phone etiquette, I yielded and found your listing right away.
"I have Danbury Orthopedic on Danbury St. in Danbury, CONNECTICUT."
Content, you uttered a restrained "Thank you."
I threw back a bitter "Thank you. Have a good day."
Then I dropped your call.
I made you pay for five minutes of air time but I didn't think you deserved the service.
Did you ever find the number to the Danbury Orthopedic?