Busy day yesterday, and I'm not even working yet.
Found a venue for this Saturday's stag party. This really isn't the time to go canvassing for the best deals; that should've been done weeks ago. So we'll take it. Besides, this is a bachelor bash. The idea of 'best deals' go out the window in a hurry.
Compiled some songs for Saturday as well; we're going for a Decades feel.
Saw the Up Here thesis exhibits for UP FA 2005. Plastic casket, anyone?
Set up my friend on a blind date. Then by Friday they will wish they had stayed blind. I kid! I kid!
Played 'Ultimate'. Goal-to-turnover-ratio? 1:8,373,843,489.
Then off to Giligan's Makati for a nightcap.
My future employers (haha) called up my old employers. How many background checks does a company need? Now everyone at my old job knows what I've been up to. I might as well given them the address of my blog! What are they so scared of? That I worked in a crime ring? And why do I feel so guilty as if I did?
What is this, weird interview month?
Part of the interview I was talking about earlier, I had to answer a couple of "brain teasers". As in, trick questions with a single correct answer. It took me a while, but I got them correctly. Going through Mr. David and his urns finally paid off. I eat combinatorics problems for breakfast. I laugh in the face of Carl Freidrich Gauss.
So in a month, I've done a demo class, a 5-part Flanagan test, an interview-a-thon, a weird airplane question, and a couple of brain teasers.
In case none of you got it, David's favorite mathematician is Gauss. And he likes quoting Keats. And his tests are notorious for being the downfall of many a Math major. As part of a joke, I quote Keats at the back of every MA 151 Long Test.
(I don't think he found it funny. So unfunny, in fact, I failed most of these long tests. Still ended up getting a 'C', though. And years later I come through in the clutch again.)
The quote is of course from The Urn:
Beauty is truth; truth, beauty. Tha's all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Except maybe combinatorics.
It's so damn hot.
Had the last of my interviews for ********** and all I can do now is wait. I may miss my 'employed by the end of March' vow by a few days. But at least I'm on my way.
Even if I'm going back to the wonderful world of IT (ach), I know it's still going to be a big change for me. I mean, I've been working at practically the same company (though not the same place literally) for almost four years. Practically with the same people and with the same job title for that long. For some reason I'm not good at change.
So what happened? What has been the result of five months of uh, searching?
These are the results:
People who say it's not about the money usually have some. Until they don't, and suddenly it's all 'bout the dum dum duh-dee dum dum.
Creative abilities need nurturing, and practice, but not necessarily a lifestyle. And the juices need to be replenished, usually by some activity that does not involve said creative ability. And ultimately, what's worse than doing a job you don't like is not being able to do a job you really like because you're too burned out.
It really is about enjoying what you do. And sometimes to realize that, you have to cut through a lot of shit and blah and politics.
The 24 hours in a day is not a lot of time. So make the most of it. Says the guy who hasn't missed a day of computer use since DSL got installed.
Daytime TV is not very good, and MTV doesn't play videos anymore.
And so, I can feel the page turning, slowly but definitely. Next chapter, please.
I was going to post about how I managed to salvage my Holy Week by finally abstaining for a day and sacrificing and thinking Easter-ish thoughts early Easter morning but...
As is always when one feels fine, things come crashing down and I don't even know exactly why or how. I have the usual suspects, things already mentioned in this blog, so I won't elaborate. It's enough to say that I want the week (hell, month) to be over with, just so I can start over.
Onto other things, to keep my mind off it, please?
A friend called at some ungodly hour early this morning because she was having certain...social problems in Boracay, of all places. And when I received the call I was watching replays of Temptation Island on mute. I find this funny.
And this is what I was supposed to tell her when we got cut off: I have no solutions to your problems, but I do know the consequences of this conflict. You are going to regret it. If you are lucky enough to be in one of the most beautiful places on the planet on a special weekend, enjoy it! You do not need this drama to make Boracay any more exciting.
I on the other hand, have been shuttling between home and the Power Plant all weekend. When I'm home I either watch reality TV or read Baudolino (such a chore to read, I'm sorry; not as gripping as The Name Of The Rose), and when I'm at the Plant I just make a list in my head of stuff I want to eventually buy (more on this later). So don't complain to me about having problems on the island. I wouldn't even classify it as love problems, just a misunderstanding that can easily be reconciled if either of you clean out the sand in your ears.
A few hours 'til tomorrow. Oh, Happy Easter.
Can't think of anything to post and I think I know why. I'm freaking hungry.
Later...
I'm really guilty about not having more to say about Lent. I guess that's why they give us 40 days to prepare for it. I don't even remember what I did between Ash Wednesday and today. Maybe I should reread this blog. I didn't even keep a single day of abstinence. Not that I ever do, but still.
Not that I need anymore reflection on my life, that's for sure.
Maybe...
I haven't read The Purpose-Driven Life (not really my thing), but I guess the key is in those first words: "It's not about you."
I confess, I haven't been into Lent so much, especially this year. Maybe it's because each day of my life right now seems like some sort of penance for some huge mistake I've done. Nevertheless, this is my Lenten post:
Recently I found out that one of my post-college friends was valedictorian of her high school. My genius brother didn't even take that honor in grade school or high school. Now I don't remember who graduated valedictorian of my grade school batch, and our high school top dog now struts his grey matter on Breakfast every morning, but being the top of your class for your graduation year always sounds special, and no one gets to take that away from you, ever. I'm sorry, girl, but that title will haunt you for the rest of your life.
Now, for some reason she doesn't seem to relish being this smart. And last night I was thinking, the problem with being smart is, in general, mobs are stupid. Just ask Christ.
That's it for my Lenten post.
Last night actually I was at a party filled with old work friends. And again it hits me, time did not stop when I left the project. I have to remind myself over and over again because sometimes it feels that way, that things don't change when you leave it. But it does. All you have to do is go to your high school and you will see.
What seemed like a sure thing last week is now a big question mark. I had my three-person panel, technical interview yesterday. One and a half hours of lying through my teeth. Ok, not really, but still, not my best performance in an interview.
The last question had to be a trick question. I have no idea how airlines work, and how airplane flights are scheduled and maximized. I should listen to Spike's stories more.
Of course, I took the opportunity of being in Makati to go to the malls and drink and stay up late and go home at 4:30 AM.
...So I could wake up at 7:30 the next day to prepare for another interview in Ortigas. I got scolded in the morning for staying up late the night before an important meeting, was terribly hung-over and was walking and driving like a zombie. I deserved all that, I know. What I didn't know was the the interview was actually three interviews by three different IT managers one after the other. Another hour and a half of explaining the travestry that is Tapestry.
But seriously, I have realistic shots at these jobs. And whatever I get into, I hope I like it, finally.
A little footnote about the evening that started out in Chili's and ended up in Whistlestop Morato. Footnote? More like the short story of my life: pretty girls can make you feel like crap. They are forgivable at anything. Pride shmide.
If fathers have Father's Day and mothers have Mother's Day, what holiday do single guys have?
Palm Sunday.
My cousin got married yesterday (not the one I set up). Most noteworthy moment for me was when the new couple made their entrance to the soundtrack of The Jesus And Mary Chain's Just Like Honey.
Then I left early to go to a birthday party, where I promptly got drunk, again. Ok, maybe not drunk-drunk, but I was still clutching the bottle of Light all the way to the car when I left the party.
My social skills at the party were so off it's not even funny. I couldn't think of anything to say, and what I did end up saying took the conversation to a dead end.
This weekend does not sound well spent at all.
Renault won again, which is good because it means Ferrari didn't. Is it me, or does Kimi not challenge for a podium finish at all?
A couple of secondary interviews start off my Holy Week. One will tell me whether I get the job or not, so cross your fingers. I really need to start doing something productive again. If anything, just to get my confidence back up to healthy levels. And to divert my time from drinking and procrastinating and poking fun at acoustic bands.
More venom.
But I'm lashing out on YM on some poor sounding board already, so the venom will be diluted by the time it hits this blog. Plus, I'm bound to say something stupid everyone will see.
So I'll leave you with some lyrics for the meantime. More Matchbox Twenty (Artist of the Month for this blog, I guess). I'm too tired to rant. Too depressed. Too at-home-on-a-Friday-night. Shit I feel like crying.
Last Beautiful Girl
This will all fall down like everything else that was
This too shall pass and all of the words we said
We can't take back
Now every fool in town would've left by now
I can't replace all of the wasted days
The memory of your face - I can't help thinkin'
Maybe if we ever coulda kept it all together
Where would we be
A thousand lost forevers
And the promises you never were giving me
Here's what I'm thinking
It won't be the first - heart that you'll break
It won't be the last - beautiful girl
The one that you wrecked - won't take you back
If you were the last beautiful girl in the world (last beautiful girl)
So tell me one more time
How you're sorry about the way
This all went down -
You needed to find your space
You needed to still be friends
You needed me to
Call you if I ever couldn't keep it all together you'd comfort me (should have believed)
Tell me bout forever
And the promises I never should have believed
Here's what I'm thinking
It won't be the first - heart that you'll break
It won't be the last - beautiful girl
The one that you wrecked - won't take you back
If you were the last beautiful girl in the world (last beautiful girl)
It's over now - and I've gone without
Cuz you're everyone else's girl
It seems to me - you'll always be
Everyone else's girl
Everyone else's girl
This will all fall down
Like everything in the world
This too must end
And all of the words we said
We can't take back
It won't be the first - heart that you'll break
It won't be the last - beautiful girl
The one that you wrecked - won't take you back
If you were the last beautiful girl
It won't be the first - heart that you break
It won't be the last - beautiful girl
The one that you wrecked - won't take you back
If you were the last beautiful girl in the world (last beautiful girl)
The last beautiful girl in the world (last beautiful girl)
You are the last beautiful girl (last beautiful girl)
Beautiful girl
I didn't realize illustration was so hard. Everything that isn't digital nowadays seems like such a chore. So much wasted on trial and error. But this is what I was looking for, right? Isn't it, Art Boy? Ah, men and their wants. So stupid.
The pilot episode for American Dreams depressed me so much. I really can't put my finger on why. Maybe it's because I never got to live through that time when everything was so simple. But that's putting it far too simply.
I'm pissed right now, so I'm imagining there's much more venom in my words than usual. Music isn't even helping. Sober? No longer will I drink it in? The hell with that!
Maybe beer and food will succeed where music has failed.
They wanted character references. There's nothing that makes me more nervous than character references. Suddenly, the image you wanted to project is no longer in your hands. You'll just have to hope that you trust your references enough to, uh, lie.
But I scored another interview on Monday. We'll see.
I'm not really a coffee drinker, but it's a sunless day and it's drizzling out right now, and it's cool, and it's perfect coffee weather. Wouldn't it be nice to just sit back and relax at the Morato Starbucks? To complete the idyllic image throw in a Powerbook and a WiFi account.
It gets me thinking:
I'm pretty lucky, I guess. Despite a sputtering start and a disastrous ending, it's kind of nice to work at something you know you can do, and get paid well (though sometimes I think not well enough) doing it. I'm luck to have met great people to work with, and for (for the most part). And I'm lucky companies are still willing to give me another chance at this. I'm lucky that for three and plus years I've never had to really complain about gas money and eating out and drinking coffee at 3 in the afternoon. I'm lucky my parents didn't throw me out when I stopped working and making money. I'm lucky to have been to two other continents. I'm lucky I've never really needed to make ends meet for the sake of the family, that the biggest money problem I've had was to pay for laptop repairs.
(The gas money remark earlier reminded me of when I was filling my friend's car up for gas, and when it was over she goes I should've asked the gas boy to pour everything in ("taktak"). Apparently, she dated someone who owned a gas station who told her that there was always some fluid still left in the hose. What the?!? First of all, that only works for her because she's a girl who gets the eye from total strangers, and secondly, if you really wanted to stick it to the oil companies then stop driving a car! I'm lucky for never having to live on the things left in the cracks.)
Yet all this is in retrospect, and everything's obviously a little bit clearer now. By going back to work I'll be muddying it all up again.
The last song on The Joshua Tree is One Tree Hill. Is there a connection to the show? Because the song is not on the soundtrack. Not that I own the soundtrack or anything. I don't. Honest.
There are few things better than getting interviewed for a job by a pretty girl. Thank you Olive, for making my morning. And if things don't work out, I can always say "You called me first!"
I'm weaseling out on Disc ('Frisbee' apparently is copyrighted) later, well, 'coz I have illustration work to do and it's dawned on me that I'm no good meeting people on my own. I need a counterpoint, someone who will make me sound cooler than I actually am.
Maybe I should start treating all social functions like job interviews. The comparison is valid, don't you think? Best face forward, try not to sound like an ass or an idiot. You tell them what you do and what you are like (as best you can, because those are the two hardest questions to answer truthfully). You have to at least pretend to have prepared by dressing up. And it helps if the person across from you is cute.
This is an album title I wish I'd have thought up. It sounds so sweet and so sad at the same time. Connotes both commitment and compromise, it's amazing. It also best describes how I feel about someone right now.
Been watching Strictly Politics, and I realize anyone who's guesting alongside Maria Ressa of CNN, no matter how learned he or she is, is going to sound like an inarticulate fuck. They were talking about the recent events at Taguig, which still strikes me like a plot from a movie. It began and ended like a serious Negotiator drama, except for the fatal flaw that they forgot they didn't have hostages.
I ended up eating at McDo because eating alone at GB3 would only lower me to new loser depths. In between bites of a supersized Quarter Pounder meal I was texting *****, who was questioning the extent of her appeal to the opposite sex, and *****, who was still with her parents and we were apologizing to each other at how the evening turned out.
I finally landed a follow-up gimmick near Greenhills, and then at Metrowalk, where apparently two of my high school friends and four of my 1st degree cousins were mingling, and of course did not decide to tell me about it until the last minute. I had previously set my oldest cousin up with one of my oldest friends, and apparently everything is going better than well. If I hadn't asked them what they were doing that night I probably wouldn't know about it until the next day. Take a gander at the SMS transcript:
"Gimmick mo?"
"Metrowalk with ***"
"Ah. Matagal pa kayo diyan?"
"I guess. Sunod ka."
Oh Jesus, don't sound so enthusiastic on my account! This is probably why people never set other people up with their relatives. I thought it would be fine, but I'll admit now that it's a bit...freaky. I'm not going to pull the rug from under them, but I won't play Miss Match either. And just the idea of four girl cousins and two high school friends on a gimmick is just unnerving. Worlds colliding can't be a good thing, can it?
That deserved another beer, of course.
I got home at 4:30 AM. Saturday and Sunday were uneventful. And you know what? Thank God.
(The End)
Now between the exhibits and the phone call you have to understand by the time the (Friday) afternoon rolls around, I'm no longer in the best of moods. Less than 7 hours after that call I'm back on the road again, this time to watch Lemony Snicketts. This movie isn't exactly my usual fare, and it's not really at the top of the list, but since she invited me to watch it, I'm not one to refuse either. If I had my choice we'd just chill and hang and drink.
Without getting into much of the details (because it's both annoying to see it in print and I'm avoiding embarassing anyone), and hour and 50 minutes after the movie starts I'm meeting her parents outside of the cinema. Apparently she doesn't go out often and it's usually never with boys (insert schoolgirl giggling here). Now meeting the parents is fine, if I'm properly made up and employed and I have my speech memorized and the lighting is flattering. But of course none of those are in effect and I wasn't really at the top of my game that day. So after a lot of awkward silences (...) and a lot of really wierd questions ("Last name?") and dumb answers ("I'm not working right now"), I decline an invitation for dinner and by 10:30 I'm walking around Greenbelt alone and hungry.
Meeting the parents is usually a good thing. And I think I know why for that night, it wasn't, and it's something I haven't actually mentioned online, and I won't, not yet anyway. And now it seems we'll never go out again just the two of us. Which amazingly does not destroy me as it should.
You'd think this would be the end of my surreal week but no.
(One More)
Maybe I was a little too harsh. Who among us haven't asked God for one good break? Maybe I just don't want to be reminded of never being dealt the winning hand, I don't know.
Moving along. The prosecution would like to enter at this point:
(Exhibit A) Anyway, the next morning (Friday) I was rudely awakened by my cellphone. It was *****, who sounded depressed. She confessed she didn't want to continue doing this entrepreneurial thing, because she realized she was never going to get rich from it. Now, all the while I was thinking that this was what she wanted, and that the money wasn't a factor. I mean, she gave up the corporate world after a mere six months because she wanted to do something else. And now, this revelation. Later on I was thinking that maybe she's just feeling a bit sidetracked, all those little fears just built up to something she momentarily can't handle. I'm hoping it will pass.
(Exhibit B) There was another topic from the previous night's drinking session. I'm going to be a guy and use a sports metaphor for this, so you'll have to read between the lines. In my metaphorical game, a friend of mine gets numerous touches with the ball, but finds it frustrating, to say the least, that he never seems to get a good, clean shot off. Anyone else would feel blessed by the number of shots he gets to take, since the rest of us are either riding the bench or are sitting in the corner waiting for a chance to toss up a three, but for him his 0-30 shooting performance is a curse.
(Exhibit C) The star of the last post (One Good Break) recently landed a job, his first, that pays him higher than most entry-level jobs, but of course it came with a price. So now he's got money, but he ain't got time. And none of this matters anyway, because he's still praying for One Good Break.
(Exhibit D) Despite my aversion to the stereotype, I am a second interview closer to working at *********. And I haven't even been accepted yet my ex-officemate (who also has an interview there) has already invited me to a badminton game. And I said yes. Call center and then badminton? It seems that I've loosened up on my position, yes?
Theory: Is it just me, or is nobody sure of what they want? Or maybe what they want isn't necessarily what they should have? Or as soon as people get what they think they want, they either want more or they realize they don't want it anymore? But it looked so shiny in the display window!
(Not Yet Done)
The subsequent drinking session had this for a topic: One Good Break.
(I may be a little mean about this so hang on tight.)
Basically, *** is posing the question/request to the Great Out There: Why can't I get one good break? This is of course in terms of women and dating. Cutting through all the theories and the alcohol, the request really is: "I want the One, or someone who could conceivably be the One, with minimal effort and waiting on my part!"
Our collective answer was of course: "Get in the mile-long line!"
"But all I'm asking..."
"Pila sa likod!"
"Hindi, ako, ano lang..."
"Dito nga pila! Bawal sumingit!"
What, did he think this was going to be easy? That life will simply give him a winning hand? A royal flush? You'll be lucky to get a freaking full house, and that's not even a guarantee of success if you're not any good at the proverbial game. I've been in line since the mid-90's, so don't think I'm in possession of any answers!
(And finally, when we say "Fight!", it's not simply a battlecry. It's a call to arms and at the same time a command that doesn't go undeeded. Be smart about the weapons you're given, take to the battlefield and give us progess reports! Requests like "One Good Break" is of no use at this point. Get out of the freaking barracks!)
I know I didn't explain all of that clearly and really I wasn't intending to. Just wanted to get that off of my chest.
(More To Come)
There's a lot to get through, so let's get this rolling.
After a flurry of classics such as "No Rain", "Hard To Handle", "It's The End Of The World As We Know It", we went off in search for more beer. We ended up at a 24-hour place on T. Morato and had another round, with less than 12 hours to go before my skills test.
IQ tests never really bothered me so it wasn't a big deal to be out drinking this late. Or so I thought.
I also forgot to mention that an ex-officemate of mine was also applying at this company and we were scheduled for the same test on the same time period. One of those lucky coincidences. So we agreed to have lunch just before the test, and catch up. Anyway, after an hour and 30 minutes of waiting, we finally had our tests and we were placed in separate rooms. Maybe it was the beer, or my age, but damn those Flanagan tests were harder than I remember. "Choose the best answer?" They all looked good! And to think this is probably the fifth time I've read the essay on "Vice President In Charge Of Revolution".
Yada Yada Yada.
Within another 5 hours after the test and initial interview I was out drinking again.
(To Be Continued)
Wednesday, had small talk with an art workshop classmate who offered me a chance to work at her husband's bank. Also has a daughter who's from Ateneo batch 2000. I have been classmates with this wife and mother for 4 months and I find all this out just...Wednesday.
Wednesday night, I attended the Ultimate Frisbee session and there was a camera crew there. Lights, segment producer, everything. I'm scared of cameras, I don't know why. Actually I do. I never want to have to say, "I look like that?!?".
More and more people are showing up for this frisbee thing. Some of them are starting to look alike. I played a game and at multiple times I realized I was guarding the wrong person. That will not get me minutes.
Later Spike and I caught an acoustic band (yes you heard it right) which played exclusively hard rock songs. None of that Keith Martin crap. They actually completed "Stairway To Heaven"; Spike wanted to buy them a beer.
(Continued In Next Post)
Wow, you should've seen the look on my mom's face when I told her about the one-third salary 'offer'. Now I see where I get it from.
I walked in the *** ******** office in Makati to just give my resume and within 20 minutes I was getting interviewed and giving a demo class. "Choose any topic," they said. My topic? Inheritance. Public class Pixel extends Point. I stole that from Gosling, and I said as much.
Unfortunately, they can only offer me a third of what I used to make. A third! I know I'm supposed to make sacrifices, but God! That's like 2001 all over again! How am I supposed to live like that, with my Fully Booked addiction and all?!? However, I did say it was not a problem, and that it was to be expected. I'm a fool. You should've seen the look on the guy's face when I told him my last made and expected salaries.
At least I made some headway with the job hunt. But it also raises some questions about what I want in work, what (and how much) I'm willing to give up, what I see myself doing. The answer to all three right now? I...don't...know.
I didn't want to talk about work (or lack thereof) actually. I realized I've done nothing but procrastinate over the last five posts. But I needed to get that off my chest. I will try to talk about other things.
I've got art and frisbee and a lunch 'date' tomorrow so it figures to be a complete day.
Am I a complete sap for enjoying ETC's Exhibit D duo of One Tree Hill and the O.C.? Wait, don't answer that.
Halfway into my telephone interview with ******** I was having second thoughts about my application. Now I have a test on Thursday because I couldn't say no.
I'm missing frisbee night because I overate.
I'm going to go job-hunting in Makati tomorrow because I don't want to be pressured in taking the shifting work.
Stupid PLDT DSL is still disconnecting at random. I can't get through 5 minutes of straight surfing.
I guess I don't have to tell you the depression's creeped back in again.
But between **** and say, Accenture, I guess go with the one that's advertised on an F1 team, right?
God, I have no idea what to do. Someone just shoot me, please.
Our ABL team pulled a One Tree Hill and lost in the first round yesterday after a great season. I wasn't around to see it so I can't say for sure what happened, but it makes me feel bad, I mean, more than usual. Shades of the '94 Sonics. When I compare us to Seattle then it doesn't sound so bad, at least to me.
Every boy dreams of making the game winning shot. I still do, usually during the homily.
In other news, if you've been listening to me (offline) lately I've had a less than stellar view of the Da Vinci Code-reading, digicam-toting, badminton-playing, acoustic music-listening, call center agent stereotype. But then guess what? Apparently a company can request your resume over JobsDB, and so far only one has. That company? *********, for Senior Applications Developer. How ironic. But of course, I gave them permission to scan my resume, let's see how it goes. Life is funny. Excuse me while I point and shoot and sing along to Stevie Wonder.
While the wounds are still fresh, let me reiterate: Don't want what you can't have. Got that? Didn't think so.
MyDSL has been acting up again. Today it's been disconnecting like hell and in fact I couldn't connect the entire day yesterday. So my current wave of depression has been turning into fits of rage.
Went to see Brownman Revival at Xaymaca last night. We actually played a few sets ahead of them on our first gig at Limits disco back in the day (1996, i think). And now, they're on stage belting out really great reggae hits and I'ma nobody in the audience drinking beer.
I started writing a career objective to put in the "Additional Info" part of JobStreet's MyResume feature, something tangent to my earlier 'cover letter'. Of course, I couldn't get very far without getting sarcastic or bitter:
I want to work in an environment where I can be creative. I say 'creative' in the sense where I can come up with different solutions to a given problem, and not conjure up solutions to questions with no answers. I know it doesn't reflect in my resume, but the most enjoyable part of my previous job was coming up with a design (technical or graphical) that would solve different problems at once. You know something works when the rest of the elements fall in place, like dominos.
I don't want to smile a lot. Or rather, I don't want to be required to smile. Because there's nothing worse than faking being okay. That's why I can't be in sales.
I also can't be in sales because I believe "What you don't have, you don't need it now".
I want to be around smart people. I don't mean 'smart' that they can do long division in their heads. I want them to be able to get puns (verbal or visual). And irony. And it would be great if they know that I lifted the previous paragraph's quote from U2's "Beautiful Day" without me telling them.
I want to be challenged to think. I've been described as cerebral on more than one occasion and I think (there's a pun right there) that it fits me perfectly. And I want the results of all this thinking to come out in some sort of venue, meaning meetings where minds, not just people, meet. I want a dialectic between equals.
This will either make me interesting or scare people off. I'm starting not to care.
But I do, still. Just before I left, Yeyet said (and I paraphrase): "Later on, one of two things can happen. You realize you were right all along and this resignation turns out to be a good decision, and then we're happy for you. Or, you realize you were wrong so that the next time something similar somewhere else happens, you know which road to take."
The thing is, maybe I don't realize anything. I don't feel like I've learned what I am supposed to. Still naive and idealistic, stubborn and unwilling to apply myself. Still cocky and so sure-after-the-fact and whiny.
I hate problems without solutions.
What I need is a good hard kick. The same spirit that got me working in my first job, and then the early and middle Magnus days. Also, some words of encouragement and inspiration. That same strength that gets people up early in the morning and through stupid meetings and late working evenings. Maybe there's too little of that going around, but all the same, I want some of that strength.
Someone shoot Cameron Crowe. What's the success rate of this "dare-to-be-great-situation" he keeps making films about? One in a million? The illusion that the rate is higher than this is because of him. And John Hughes.
My body still hurts from trying out Ultimate Frisbee last night. But it was interesting, and tiring as hell. And I'll probably go back for more. I want to learn the forehand throw. And I need to learn how to score goals properly. Apparently when you score/complete a goal, you're supposed to hold the frisbee, and not chuck it to a teammate. Isn't there a signal that you make to signify a goal? A dance or something? Or do I moon the opposing team?
And all this is an attempt to do something I've never done before, go to places I haven't been. Plus, it's a nice way to meet new people. So far, so good.
This also means I need to shell out money to buy a frisbee, for practice. A frisbee! Do I really need more crap in my room?!?
This also means that instead of looking for a job, I've ended up with another hobby.
(Where was this sense of adventure when capoeira was offered to me, huh? I don't know...I'm an idiot.)
