Walking backwards

And then, after eight months, I've gotten tired of my friends complaining the same complaints, about me complaining the same complaints. It's because I'm not doing anything about it. It's because I never stood up for myself. It's because I never assert my needs. It's because I prefer to focus on what I'm doing rather than be distracted by idle conversation. It's because I don't ask anyone for anything. It's because I act so awkward.

So, they say, I should just zip my mouth and live with the crap I get here. Because, they say, I'll get out of here soon. And then they'll say I haven't been looking for a replacement hard enough.

Funny they say that.

Eight months. I took this job hesitantly, and I was telling everyone that I will leave at the end of the probation period. I didn't like the idea. Eventually I did, or more because I got my groove, writing about stuff I don't particularly care about, or stuff that I didn't know I cared a lot for before. Then there's this audience who's willing to strike you down with factual errors. It rarely happens.

But things don't go as well as planned. Three months ago I should've received a pay raise, settled in work, perhaps have conversations that go beyond typed words in a computer program. Instead, the appraisal process never happened. I have bitches for co-workers. I feel frustrated that I can't find a good job - and the good ones that I find never call me back.

All around me, people are finding their footing. On the other hand, I feel left behind.

I was talking with Ariane this morning. She came from yet another job interview. Already her second. She's thinking about it, in between complaining about the unusually terrible traffic, but if I got her correctly, she already has a job offer. Sure, she's still in the "die trying" stage, but she's wanted to move on, and she is moving on. And then there's what spanking new television writer Jackie told me a few weeks ago, when she guessed that Ariane would be the next to move up the ladder. Just pointing that out.

As for me, well, I have absolutely failed myself. Was it the expectations? I shouldn't have believed everybody when they said my diploma will get me far. Nobody looks at those anymore. So what if I am a cum laude graduate from DLSU? They're asking for the education sector to adapt to this outsourcing crap. It's the only way. The newspapers trumpet about companies halting all their hiring, which means I'll be here forever. What happened to my future, then? I made the wrong decisions, didn't I? I should've taken up journalism, I should've followed Rico Robles, I should've joined The Lasallian when they asked me to.

At this moment, regretting past decisions serve as the only way to justify that I got myself into this. A corner. Nowhere else to go. Supposedly benefitting from the new order, but the fuck with utopia. I want to do what I want to do. At the very least, I want to be treated with dignity and respect, not just be left behind by those who think they're so good, by those who think they deserve better from me, and by those who turn out to be actually better than I am.

Them complaining the same complaints, about me complaining the same complaints.

To be honest, though, I feel tired. I've said this before, but this is the dead end. I still get a sugar rush from half-bluffing about American Idol, and I still get a sugar rush from when a really good idea comes to me. And when a few people come to me and say they've stumbled upon my work. And my mother gushing with supposed pride. But for what? I don't want to be here forever. And yet it seems everybody wants me here forever, to endure being useless for half a day, and being shunned for what? For trying? For keeping quiet? I am literally taking a step backwards. And all I have is a wall.

I literally want to cry, for the past six months, but alas, I cannot do anything about it. I've just run out of steam. I don't feel sincerity in my words, and I don't feel pride in my ideas, and I don't feel confident about myself.

My fourth desk. I spend five in the afternoon staring at Neobie as she signs out and walks out. I could've have regretted anything more, actually. That's what I thought. Useless.

I've been here for eight months, and yet I still can't get used to this.

And your responses...

totoo nga yata na nasa tao yun, wala kung san siya grumaduate. kala ko urban legend lang yun. no offense ha.

Anonymous Anonymous3/05/2009     

i love the title!

Blogger N.3/05/2009     

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