8/11/2009
Nice meeting you again

Apparently you were asking about me, so hello there. How are you? How's the vice presidency treating you? Obviously the treasury wasn't exactly built for you. Oh, yeah, you're asking me how I am, not the other way around, right. Sorry about that.

Right. I'm currently working, like perhaps everybody else who's already graduated. I actually got hired before graduation, although sometimes I wish I got Trix's job, which is impossible because I only heard of the opening when she already got it, or so I deduce. I'm typing this thing at work now, actually. Victim of the so-called global economy. I write about television for work. I've openly crushed on Allison Iraheta and Deborah Ann Woll, and I've wondered about what makes Robert Pattinson supposedly attractive.

On a good day I finish everything before lunch. That happens often, but not too often, depending on the stuff I help cover, or cover entirely. During free time, I catch up on my viewing. I just came off watching a couple of episodes of The Mentalist because I'm doing it and I've been intrigued by the show and they only started airing it here this month. If there's absolutely nothing to do, and if all the website I've read have been exhausted, I keep myself busy by drinking water or having some mints, play them around in my mouth.

Like most of us frustrated people, in varying degrees, my life's been a routine of some sorts. I wake up before five because my siblings have school, even if I don't really have to, since my work begins at nine. Maybe that's why I finish everything early, because I arrive here around half past seven, on average. I spend twelve hours every day, on average, not talking. I spend twelve hours every day, on average, with something stuffed in my ear. It can get worse if I have a mood swing.

My life's not really exciting. Perhaps I'm as lost, if not more lost, than most of my "friends". The biggest milestones of my life so far, apart from the occasional (and much appreciated) heaps of praise from the folks in Seattle, involves money. It's either I buy myself some pretty grand stuff, which so far includes my iPod's power adaptor and a hard drive for my PC, or I get to leave some for a rainy day, in this case, a time deposit. I can't really scream about it. You know how hyperactive, perhaps rambunctious, I get in school. Suddenly I have nothing to celebrate about. I don't feel comfortable boasting my achievements, if any. When I feel frustrated, like when Firefox fails on me when I type a single letter, I can't really voice out my frustrations. It's not right, so they say. I'm never really comfortable with standards.

Like I said, I spend twelve hours on average not talking. Twelve hours alone, relying on the keyboard to connect with the outside world, not expecting anything but similarly giddy when something comes up. I talk to myself every time I go to the toilet. It acts as a release for me. It's solace of sorts. It's as if I'm talking to someone. Like, actually talking to someone, not some random exchange of words flashing on the screen, something that tells you how the whole thing's turning out, rather than guessing whether they're bored or annoyed or any other negative reaction. It's funny how everything revolves around that, really. I don't have a normal work life: I don't talk with any of my colleagues, mostly because they hate me before I can even say a word. Figured you can't fake concern despite falling in love with one of them.

I've been looking for new work. I always have. I've only had two job interviews since I started working here fifty-nine weeks ago. One took four months to respond. The other, well, I'm not hoping on it anymore. I figured I can't stay seated to a desk writing about things I can't exactly relate about. I figured I can't stay isolated, surrounded by whatever expletive you can think of.

Problem is, I'm not good enough for anything else but this one. Nobody answers back. Damn, I should've applied for The Lasallian again, especially when Karla tried convincing me to do so. I should've focused on all those opportunities rather than give my all to my studies and get high grades. But it seems everybody else is getting along better, much better than I am, and, well, what else can you do? Seeing other people have fun, get along, have the courage to change their lives, ask questions, ask for something in return, money, feelings, relationships, balance, success. Me, well, I've contended with living like this for the next seventy years of my life. Nobody bothers to listen, nobody bothers to include, and nobody bothers to deal with anything that has to do with me. Surely you don't have that sort of problem, right? High position in the Student Council, respected by peers, good grades, reasonably popular, not to mention the necessary connections and the all-too-needed courage...

Oh, wait, I'm sorry, you have to leave? I expected that. Nobody's interested in me anyway. Well. Thank you for your time, if ever there was. I certainly hope we'd actually met up in the future, Nadia, rather than have me type my answer to a question you passed through others, after taking so long to remember the connections do exist.

And your responses...

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