...When Status Messages and Tweets Become Too Short...

My Twitter account is about a week old or so, and as of this writing, I already have 133 tweets, while those who actually sold me the idea of having a Twitter account (Issa, Che, and Shara. No, Imon, you're just a spammer. Gilbert Arenas' drive to 1million followers was more of an influence than you. You made me hate Twitter with all your spam messages.) don't have as much tweets, considering they've been tweeting longer.

I want to speak my mind out. That's why my Multiply site is filled with long, wordy blogs. And while uneventful days can't even provide a status message for the day, there are moments like this when I want to say so many things, but can't fit them all in a 220-character status or 140-character tweet unless I spam.

So anyway, random ramblings start here:

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New Work, New Beginning

My current contract ends on September 30. And I know that I've been ranting about my job here in my blogs for the past 2 years or so, but this time, it's actually happening. My uncle (mom's brother) is taking me in as a sales associate in his company. To some extent, it sucks, because I have to get used to 6-day work weeks and I wouldn't be able to feel that "corporate environment" where there's backstabbing, cliques, politics, and all those stuff you could have trying to work harmoniously with different types of people. I have to grow old fast working for my uncle, because I can't be that "young kid" who sells stuff to them. I need to be an equal, a credible individual who they will ask help from if the need arises.

But those things considered, I'm pretty excited working there. For one, an actual business card with my name and info on it is being printed already. That is a significant step for me. For the longest time, I've been somewhat of a ghost employee here: not low enough to be at par with the cleaners, but not as high ranking as account managers, and though part of the company, can't actually represent the company in any capacity. As a third-party employee, that's the feeling that I got.

Now, I'm going to have my own business card to trade with associates. I'll have full responsibility of some stuff, which I can't blame on others.I may kick myself someday for saying this but, at this point in time, I actually like that, because it's on me. If stuff don't happen, it's my fault. If they do, I did it. Right now, in this office, if stuff don't happen, it's not entirely my fault. There are times that I get blamed, but I could always say (which is the case most of the time) that I did my part, and what happens after that is out of my hands.

I still don't know if I can REALLY handle the job, but I think I can. I know I can. And right now, that's what matters.  All that's left is to hope and wish and pray that everything turns out well.

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Insanity and the Forbidden Fruit

While driving last night, I had an urge to shout. As in, just shout. Then just run around and curse people and not care about anything. I don't know why. For a brief moment there, I felt like I was battling my sanity. I don't know how I won, but I didn't even know what sparked that battle. So maybe I'm still in that war. Maybe, someday, I might snap for reasons I'll never know. Then I'll be able to understand what goes through the minds of people we call "crazy". 

For some reason, as I walked around Glorietta, I felt like I ate the forbidden fruit or something. In the story of Adam and Eve, they were ashamed because they realized they were naked after they ate the forbidden fruit, and so they hid. I, on the other hand, didn't eat anything. But as soon as I got off the car, I felt uneasy, not wanting to be in my body, suddenly anxious about what people are thinking when they glance at me for a millisecond. I was mindful of how I walked, how my shirt was worn, how I bobbed my head to the beat of the songs in my mp3, and generally, just how I looked.

What's weird is that those were unprovoked incidents. Hopefully, both were isolated cases that just happened on the same night. 

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Of Passion and Writing

I'm still thinking of putting up that blogspot or wordpress site. I'm thinking, I do want to have readers, I do want people to read my blogs (Barney from HIMYM comes to mind), but there are times when I have brain farts like these where nothing good really comes out.

I write to for the sake of writing. I write to express whatever thoughts want to come out of my head, and express them with no interruptions. I'm thinking, if my blogs are actually interesting, people will read from this site, and I wouldn't need to be in blogspot or wordpress. But that's just me. 

Like signing up for Twitter, I might eventually go the wordpress route.

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Go USTe!!

A couple of weeks ago, my mom woke me up to tell me that the whole house is going to be re-painted. She asked what color I'd like my room to be in and suggested the blue paint in the attic. Though still droopy, I managed to whine: "ayaw ko nun. Kalaban yun." 

Yes, even in my sleep, I hate Ateneo. Not generalizing, but school spirit-wise, I see them as my villain. They beat my UE team of Paul Artadi, James Yap, Ronald Tubid, Arnold Booker, and Philip Butel, among others, twice to advance to the finals of that year (and claim the title via good teamwork, and Cool Cat's sellout). They stood in our way in the 2006 basketball finals. And as a La Sallian-poser (I've grown to love the school, what with how they've taken care of Uncle Jun, how passionate my Uncle Hero is for them [not to mention the free tickets I've got from him, La Salle side, so I had to wear green], and how I saw them as nicer dudes than their blue counterparts), I tried to learn the La Sallian cheers just so I can scream my heart out against Ateneo. Of course, there are exceptions in my hate for anything blue, basketball-wise: I am a fan of LA Tenorio and Larry Fonacier, two guys I really felt happy for as they won their first PBA championship. Larry, especially, knowing he had to come back from a career-threatening injury, and work his way up to be drafted and actually have playing time in the PBA.

Oh, and to elevate further my disdain for the blue ones, Ricky Palou, their sports director or something, was the pushover who backed out at the last minute of what should've been a fund raiser in Araneta that we organized. I still have those tickets with me. 

Anyway, back to my room. I failed to convince my parents that my ceiling should be black. I failed to persuade the painters to paint my cabinets black. But I'm happy with how yellow my room is now. It looks like a cartoon. I'm excited to arrange it to my liking, and take a picture of it. 

And once I get me my free time, I WILL paint black accents in that room.