Friday, April 25, 2008

Two Steps and Two Seconds

Does it matter how far I go
when I'll always be two steps behind you?
Does it matter how well I do
when I do things two seconds after you?
Does it matter how high I reach
when I'll always be covered by your shadow?
And why would it matter if I sped up,
when I'll always be far too slow?

Screw you, LiNa@Jobstreet

To keep a long story short, is it too much to ask for a job that has something to do with your field of study?! I did not slave away for six and a half years in BS Applied Physics to become a call center agent, secretary, administrative assistant, tech support, etc. etc.

People who first find out about my course say, "Ah... there are many opportunities in Physics" (provided they don't say, "O? What's that?"). Well, I'm not seeing opportunities anywhere. There are opportunities for engineers, for geologists, for biologists, and chemists. But Physicists?

I don't know... Maybe I'm not looking hard enough. Maybe I'm just being an idiot. Or maybe my pride is getting in the way of employment. I really don't know. I'm from UP, from Pisay, even, everyone else says doors should be opening up for me left and right.

I hate this.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

PdLR's Thought for the Day

"Not so bad" does not necessarily equate to "good", much less "excellent".

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

Bloggers: Mind what you write

I'm not really sure if it's a glitch in Blogger, now that it's affiliated with Google. By typing in the correct keywords, you can get snippets of restricted entries in blogs or view blog entries that have been deleted. Granted, I think there's an option in the blog settings to make your blog un-Google-able (Blogger entries cannot be seen by Yahoo!Search and Dogpile), but be sure that this is selected, especially when you're writing very personal information about yourself. Better yet, don't upload very personal information about yourself. I know that the blogosphere is supposed to be the world's collection of online journals, wherein you should be free to express yourself, but never forget that the blogosphere is also a very public place. Be careful what you write.

Google also stores some old entries. If you search for an old blog entry and Google finds it, if that entry is no longer available when you click the main link, you can click the "Cached" (Naka-cache) link at the bottom and the entry will most probably pop out. I don't delete blog entries because I never had any reason to, but I suggest you check and make sure that what you decided ought to be gone really is gone.

Tuesday, April 08, 2008

What a friend!!! *insert sarcasm*

I'm actually talking about myself.

"It's just that [that person] acts like [that person] has an EQ of 10."

I was evil enough to say something like that as an excuse. But, that really was the reason why we kept this really shallow secret. Well, they say if one other person knows your secret, that's one person too many; there happens to be four of us, so that's, like, four people too many or three people too many, depending on what your reference point is. (Damn Physics mindset. Go away when I'm blogging!) So, the odds of keeping this secret just dropped dramatically. So, the problem is no longer "How do we keep it?" it graduates to "Who should spill the beans?"

I volunteered, because I was the one who engineered the darn thing, to begin with. Best it come from the horse's mouth. Another person making excuses for me would make everything worse.


One thing people have to realize is damage control and repair are critical things in friendships. This means perfect friends aren't the people who've never hurt you, they are the people who know how to minimize the damage and assume responsibility for the repair. Unfortunately, there are many people who, when their relationship is damaged, pull as far away as possible. Not only does this make it impossible for the offender to do the repair, it also allows for the wound to fester, become infected, turn into gangrene and kill. O_O (mental note: Blog only when you're fully awake. End note.)

Heavens know how many friendships I've destroyed in this manner.

Hopefully, I won't do it again. Especially now that this person has come to help repair, or, at least put a temporary patch over the pain.

Sunday, April 06, 2008

Dream: Rebel Ivan

It's one of those dreams that had no prodding, no source stimulus. Most people dream about things because of a movie or a conversation (much like Ralph does after I make a preposterous proposition of a couple), but apparently, I don't belong in that category. My dreams come from out of nowhere. O_O

It began with an unfortunate event that I don't really remember. I angered someone I shouldn't have: a higher up in the country and that person was making my life a living hell. Of course, my dream had to be set in a world full of political turmoil and uncertainty.

I was just being me and that place wasn't the right place for it.

So, a few UP friends and I get caught in the middle of crossfire between said person who hates me and a rich old guy who looks like Eddie Garcia (Leonard, in my dream, is the one that points out that the rich guy looks like Eddie Garcia). Eddie Garcia lookalike helps us, but at this point, Ivan has already gone missing. Our mutual enemy has taken him as some sort of cruel and twisted punishment for me.

In a swimming pool (yes, a swimming pool, don't ask me why), I was moping and crying right after the lady who hates me tries to kill me by pulling my head down by my hair under the water. Glai helps me out and she leaves me alone. The weird part about my "crying" in my dream is, despite the fact that there was the characteristic tightening of the chest and burning in the eyes, the tears don't fall. So, I generally look like I'm wheezing and hyperventilating, which is very dangerous in a swimming pool, if I may add. Leonard comes by and tells me he saw the catfight. I ask why he didn't help. He said it wouldn't have been smart to get involved in a fight between women. I throw my left Islander shoe at him and it hits him on the back. Glai, behind me, laughs.

Out of the pool and sitting by what looks like a ferry station, I see a small wooden houseboat painted bright yellow and purple. I have a weird feeling about the boat and stare at it. It's big enough for only one person to ride in and looks like it was made to sink, even with its shiny new coat of paint. There is a stick used as a brake and for maneuvering hanging off the side. It's being carried away by the current. While I'm watching the boat, Ivan's head pops out from inside the house. I give a yell and try to go to him, but the boat is moving too fast. He tries to use the stick to brake, or so we could pull him up, but the stick breaks when it hits the glass window of the ferry station. I scream and run, but I can't catch him.

The next scene is, I'm lying on a bed I'm sharing with three other people. The one closest to me is Leonard. Ivan is still missing, and I'm still crying. I wonder out loud where Ivan could be and what could have happened to him. Leonard couldn't tell me that Ivan was alive, but he said he hoped, too, that Ivan would come back. Then, I ask him, "Asan na si Glai?"
Leonard replied, "Umuwi sa Cavite." He takes my hand and squeezes it reassuringly and I cry even harder. I know he can feel me shaking, even though he can't hear the sobs. Minor detail, but dream!Leonard has much smaller hands than the one in real life.

After what appears to be a long time, I wake up next to my mom. I'm back at home. I go to the bathroom to, surprise surprise, cry. While I sit on the steps leading into the tub, Ivan comes in and hugs me. He's wearing a light blue button-down polo with a white shirt inside. His hair is cut in that stupid flat-top hair style that was popular in the 80's, but somehow he looks good with it. As he holds me close, he tells me, "Give me something to miss." For the first time in my dream, I cry for real. Tears begin to fall. Then realization hits me.
"To miss, you mean aalis ka ulit?" I ask him.
He tells me, "We need your help. Speak to the indigenous peoples for us." Apparently, I'm some kind of advocate on the matter. He leads me out of the bathroom, out of the bedroom, and into the kitchen where three of his comrades are. one is a geophysicist, another is some old guy who is a leader of the group, and the third is a familiar face: Peter. Peter greets me and I, him. I ask the geophysicist guy if he knows Lourdes. He doesn't. Peter explains that that guy (Jun?) never got to practice geophysics and that he was a schoolteacher. I take note of that information. The three guys explain to me what they need from me and I agree to help. I ask them how they came across Ivan. If they picked him up after his boat sank, or something. Peter replies, "Hindi naman ganun. Nakita namin siya sa Quiapo. Tinulungan namin siya."
Then, they pack up and leave. Before they do, Ivan takes me into my room to "talk" to me in private. He kisses me and tells me he won't be back for a while. I'm already contemplating how our life would be like. We're not yet married, after all. I tell him it isn't like him to become what he is. He tells me, "The order of the movement is a lot better than the lack of order in the country." He further explains to me that some British group is financing their operations. From the way he talks, I sense that he is not only an "advocate", he is also one of the leaders. We do the deed in my dream, but my brain censored it like an MTRCB member. V_V

I am now sitting in Ivan's camp. It's idyllic, like the small barrios in the provinces we've been to. I'm holding a pad of intermediate paper and a black Dong-A gel pen. I'm writing down what appears to be the fate of those around me. Geophysics guy is still a teacher. The old guy is dead. Peter is highly impassioned to the point that he seems to have lost his mind and has begun sacrificing chickens to the tree spirits. Some of the other members of the camp say they will have words with him once they begin running out of chickens for food, but that he is harmless up to that point. In my dream, I predict that he will get to the point where they will have to restrain his activities. I frown at a chicken that is nailed to a tree.
Then, I have another premonition. Ivan's parents are in danger. The group gets a hold of plans which detail the assassination of two people. Ivan recognizes the locations to be his parents' workplaces. He leaves camp to save his family and I go after him. I watch him get shot because he is outnumbered and ill-armed (Ivan, love, in case you become a rebel leader whose parents are about to be killed by military assassins, if plan to save them, bring more than two bullets, okay?). Because there is an exchange of fire, I can't go to him. I can't see him.

I wake up because the sight of seeing the guy who shot Ivan convulsing as his body is riddled by bullets fired at him by Ivan's comrades is too much for me.

Huh. It's so strange how long and detailed this is. But, that's really what I remember. Maybe I should go see a psychiatrist or something.