Jay E. Tria

I am so neglecting this fire exit. Look at all cobwebs and that dust carpet. Uggh. But I’m so tired. Cant. Update. Properly.

Days have been confusingly sluggish and disorganized as of late. As in really, with no apparent course and/or plan. Nothing. I’m not sure if it’s my lack of discipline or of a soundly churning brain. Either way, at least one banana is missing from the bunch.

Anyway. One thing I’m sure of is that I hate the union. I think it’s their fault, for their inability to understand the complicated cash flow restraints of a giant conservative company. For their lack of the urge to please please give up the damn ‘negotiations’ and just sign the demner agreement already. For their continuing whispered threats of a strike. Management is so wound up about the possibility of its employees taking arms and—no, Lord anything but that!—leaving their branches ill-equipped and under-manned to service their oh-so-not-understanding clients, that they have put my application for transfer underneath the slush pile. Way below everything else, right at the spot where the pile touches the grimy floor.

My metaphors don’t even make sense anymore. That’s how depressed I can make myself when I think about this. After that frighteningly euphoric high of making a career change, all comes to a standstill, and nobody even has the courtesy to send me an email. I was so looking forward to not counting other people’s money, and reporting to my boss who doesn’t like to listen much (unless I am transparently pissed off), and manning those express banking centers on weekends. And now I don’t even know if the guys in that department who were meant to save me from branch hell remember me. Please please please take me with you!! Gah. Okay, I’m so not begging. I’m usually more rational, most specially on the surface. The union will be crushed and management will go on its merry way making the bank more money (haha, is that a pun?? Hmm. Maybe not). And then I can start bugging them again about the transfer. Because the thing is, I realized, I am so sure, that I want to study whilst working. (I don’t want to be poor again, see) And to do that, I have to get out of branch hell. So come hell (I may have used this word too much in this post) or high water, I will be transferred. Or it really is resign. (Nooooo….. everywhere else is already at freeze-hire!!)

I said I was too tired didn’t I? well. Carry on then.

This is highly unoriginal, but I just reread HP6 and HP7. And I think I cried more this time with the last book than the first time I read it. Maybe because I was frozen with tension that first time. I was so scared Harry will die, it was unbearable. Now I knew that he’s so surviving and will have three children with the weirdest names ever, so the tears came hot and fat. This is embarrassing. Why am I even writing about this? Oh. I’m rereading from book one. But I’m going back to New Moon first. And I’ll probably reread P&P again. (Mr Darcy, swooonnn…). I’m in one of my revisiting stages. I’m sure someone out there understands the symptoms.

Okay, really feeling the weight of a brutal day’s work and old age now. Checking out. One two.

These changes, aint changing me. The cold-hearted boy I used to be.

I realized I take weekends seriously. In their common context of R&R, I mean. I take a break from thinking too.

Last Friday I went through two interviews. And it seems (unless I am bleedingly wrong) that they liked me. There might have been talk about speeding up my transferring to their department, but I was more certain about that last Friday than I am now. I may have blocked out that part of the conversation. On my way back to the branch I wanted to walk around in larger, wider circles. The one-block walk was not enough, and the strong wind made for a great emo walk. My head was spinning to say the least. Overlwhelmed. Yeah, that sounds about right.

When I got back it was to the familiar blur and activity of the branch. And in that short hour I was gone I felt like I’ve missed it. I missed doing this routine that I knew how to do. I missed being around these people who I genuinely like. I missed my new pretty table. But there it was, never to be shaken, that feeling of discontent. I hate climbing the armoured car. And I hate the stink of money. I hate troubleshooting for people who didn’t care enough to avoid their mistakes. I hate…aaahh, this will be a long list.

Uggh. Am I even old enough to make these decisions? Can I even choose my career path now? What if I make another mistake??

I had an epiphany then: I am adverse to change. But that didn’t help very much. Change for the sake of change alone is not a good well to dive into. So I’m trying to steer clear of that trap. God, can you give me a sign please? I know that’s a total cop out. But I’d beg for one if you need me to. Everyone’s blindingly supportive, it’s crazy. But the decision has to be organic, right?

Thus the protest from thinking until further notice.

Thank the DVD pirates for CSI NY. I marathoned what’s left of season 5, my 1000-word article on Melbourne Cup history be damned. I needed to be happy. I need man-candy. And there Danny Messer was.

Now, if you say ‘marriage’, I still say ‘ew’. You say babies and I will make my gross-out face. But the Danny-Lindsay ship, I want on board that too! Not the knocked up part and the fling with the mother of the kid that was killed when guy was in the line of duty (I still don’t forgive you for that, Danny). I want all the comic-book reading, pregnant belly-kissing, baby-name fussing, hold-it-in-I-don’t-want-to-miss-this panic, no-man-but-me-is-getting-near-my-baby-though-she-is-still-an-infant craziness. And they hold hands and kiss now. No more of that building tension that drives me crazy (although that will admittedly be missed).

That was the best season eevvveerr. I can’t wait for season 6. Don’t they dare kill anyone else off again. I’m reading stuff that Danny will be in a wheelchair and he had to have a hot physical therapist, but no please don’t! I don’t think he’s changed enough to be allowed near another hot-blooded female again. Come on, writers!

Anyway. I guess I have bigger problems. September 23 is still 10 years away, we haven’t figured out how to download full episodes (and we have tried, we really did). Oh, and yes, that work crisis I’m having.

I refuse to think! I’m going back to Hogwarts. Creepy young Tom Riddle is less frightening than adulthood.

“bless your body bless your soul reel me in and cut my throat”

I have  to write about football again for submission today (1000 words re tips on football betting, wherest shalt I find thoust??), so I guess this will be the warm up/excuse to not Google punter tips just yet because it is very hard to pretend to care about them.

vanillablahblah hasn’t posted in a while yet, and I so want an upcat update. But I don’t really want to pressure her, because I remember the feeling after I finally took and got over upcat. It felt like jelly. Don’t say it didn’t. The limbs, all common sense, the brain, oh yes, pure unadulterated jelly. It’s like you’ve been holding in all the stress and rigor and vigour for that one destiny-defining day, and you’ve pulled yourself in so tightly, wound youself up in the most complicated of knots, that when that traffic-pestered day in the country’s premier university (quote-unquote, for you skeptics) comes and goes, you just want to sink into a chair for a long long time. No brain activity for a  while, please. ‘Brain not functioning’ sign is up. So I really don’t blame her for not updating or not visiting. Just in case she is reading, though, be warned: jelly state is not sustainable. You still have finals, dear. Enjoy it while you can =)

Sorry. Just had to put him in.

I’m running through the things I want to do today, on this great mid-week holiday, and it all ended up with me getting a bit depressed. It’s quite a long list, you see, and I keep forgetting that one day adds up to only 24 hours, and you still have to spend a reasonable fraction of that sleeping and eating…

I want to continue reading HP6, and finish Airhead (sorry, I haven’t finished it yet!!! How are you doing with Ransom my Heart, anyway?). I want to update document5, which I haven’t in a while. I miss spending time with my fabulous, hot new rock stars! hihi. And continue revising document1 (omg, what about my queries, and the synopsis? gah.). And I wanna have a csi NY season5 marathon. I finally got around to getting the DVD last saturday. Voyage to Circle C and Cherry was succesful, although it was through taxi and through quite a vigorous storm. I forgot it floods there. Hehe.

AND, I was given this new assignment, which I have to turn in today, omgee. I still don’t know anything about football, now I have to give tips on football betting. If this article gets approved (which I hope it does, since I need the money), people will actually put down their cash based on my advise. Gah. Even before I begin my article, I already apologize for the poor souls. Kindly do further online research rather than consult only me okay? Thanks.

Another very important image commercial.=) I can’t keep hating Keira Knightley after P&P and Atonement, I just can’t.

My life is moving in very loose circles right now. Sometimes I feel like it’s flying about with no apparent direction. I know I have a lot of time in my hands right now, but the day ends and I wonder where the hell did it run off to? I guess I’ve been doing quite a lot. Just when I thought I had a solid life plan mapped out, all these things hit me pell mell and I can’t really ignore them. Nor do I want to. Just when work has become a comfortable routine, I’ve been given an opportunity to make it not so. And I am so afraid I will fail, but I will brave a try or two. I owe it to myself, I think, and to these ridiculous people who all believe in me. Thank God for you, I don’t know how I’m lucky enough to keep you lot.

And just when I’ve decided to take on queries, etc., I stumbled into this (paying, albeit still small) freelance gig that I’m pretty sure I’m still not good at and which requires me to write about sports (gah). But I haven’t had any criticism of any sort on my writing, and now that I’m getting it my head may have gotten quite big regarding my supposed skills. It’s refreshing, getting feedback from someone who is very honest about it. He really doesn’t care if it gives me an ‘ouch’, which it does, given my previously sequestered ego. But you learn when people help point out your mistakes, right? I’m quite enjoying it. As for document1 and 5, I have not forgotten you, and still think of you both often. Once I get the hang of this, I will come back for you…

And I’m turning into quite a tag-along. Yesterday, there was a slew of IMs inviting to a dinner for that night, which I of course answered with an instant, sure, I’m game. We met and ate and left Makati at 1130pm and ventured into a stormy night with me having no idea how the hell I am to get my ass home. I’ve been doing that a lot. And it’s fun although quite draining on the energy levels and cash levels. haha. It’s great to hang out with different sets of people. I realized that hmm, look at that, I have a good number of friends, don’t I? The support system is tremendous. The bonding is great. I’m loving all the gossip and the embarrassing stories, even if I am forced to tell my own. And the sense of humour is silly, frank, no-walls-up, no-holds-barred and plainly ridiculous, but apparently, it’s just to my taste. Also, Meet the Spartans is on TV when we were finishing dinner last night, so that helped a lot with the production of the raucous laughter.

(New Moon come November. There’s no backing out this time.)

My post title doesn’t really fit, but I just really want to recognize the day and say thank you for all the heroic things and also for the non-working holiday.

I’m not used to this free-flowing chaos. I need to get my life organized. But not yet. I was never the go-with-the-flow type of girl, but I’m going to give it a try now.

it’s one of those weeks that didn’t even fly by. it snuck away so quietly i’m slowly forgetting what happened. so before i do, just in case remembering would have some kernel of importance at some future date…

aaaannnd…the saga of the walking/talking/overriding dead continued. monday i went home early but stayed up late writing about a topic i don’t know hell about and i don’t care hell about. but it’s a deadline, and i’ve never been late to one ever and i’m not starting now. the thing is when i was given a sample to read, i vividly remember thinking, ‘huh, i can write better than this’. so that’s what i thought i was doing, only to get feedback like you need to shorten your sentences and always write in the active voice and write how you normally speak, use simple words and less prepositions (i forgot what prepositions are by the way, but i have to look them up so i can stop using them too much). so apparently, the sample was for emulating, not leisurely reading. i was supposed to write in that direct, no-blah way. okay. got it, promise. *whisper*:but does that mean i’m not getting paid? anyway, i just got a new project and i’m supposed to turn it in sunday night. really got to google prepositions soon.

tuesday i went out to dinner with my otp friends, where i was supposed to meet this guy and we were supposed to like each other at first sight and start texting non-stop and move forward to actual dating. but said guy didn’t even show up. my friend james learned the meaning of the word ‘raincheck’. i don’t know. i say i don’t really care, and really, being single after so long is so much fun, but it’s kind of a piss off. and a kick in the ego. hello? if you said you’ll show up, please do. in what alternate era is a raincheck ever a polite thing to do, on the day of? whatever. i had more fun eating pizza and eating my dairy queen with people who won’t stop making me laugh even though my guts are already spilling to the ground. mmmm, strawberry blizzard i love you.

wed, i had a date with two girlfriends from college. it cost me 400 fricking bucks. i am now officially dirt poor, my wallet is starving. but that was the best spicy tuna salad ever, and said girlfriends also had a knack for gut-spilling laughter. one of them is going on a date tomorrow with a 35-year old guy with two first-born kids. now, i have everything against dating someone with that much baggage, but she’s worrying that the age gap may hinder all forms of conversation. that’s not true. you can talk about quite a lot, even in a limited time, even with the inconceivable 11-year gap. you can even make him laugh without trying. which is good for clueless people like me who have no knowledge of flirting techniques. um. no thanks to acquiring that skill set.

thurs, i stayed until 8 in the office installing things to several computers in the branch because noone else knows how to do it and noone else gives a shit to learn how to do it. then i think i was asleep on the way home, and missed my stop. hurray, zombie.

today, i went out for coffee with the branch friends. today, the hr officer (maam letty) who recruited me long ago called, wondering why i haven’t been asking for a transfer to the head office. saying that my business econ background would be better served at another unit. see, i know that. and with my otp friends already transfering to the head office and literally pulling me to join them, i’ve already heard all the arguments for said career move. but i never budged. the plan was, apply for up mba ay 2010, then resign the minute they admit me. but when maam letty called and asked me if my silence meant that i already like my work at the branch, i felt that sense of cold realization that even at that moment i tried to reject. the only thing keeping me here is my strong fear of change. what if they don’t accept me? what if they’re all bitches there and i have to eat lunch alone? what if my staff there won’t want to watch ‘new moon’ with me come november? what if i suck at the job and my boss hates me? see? crippling fear. but as marky said, how will you even know if you won’t try? so now i’m thinking of applying for that research post, and then maybe if i can go home early i can take up mba night classes instead of resigning. maybe i can try ateneo. and then i’d finally get a car to lessen the stress a bit.

the thought of such a near future is so terrifyingly exciting.

i told este and she started telling me stories of how stressful the work there is. i told jenina and she said how sad, please don’t. they’re sweet. but i’m sleeping on this. the freedom to effect such life changes is exhilirating, but the rush is also frightening.

sat, tomorrow i’m going to the derma because the zombie look is not becoming. and i’m working on my article. and i may be able to squeeze in watching adventureland, if celina agrees we go dutch. and i want to buy a csi ny dvd, and multivitamins too. why do i have to keep reminding myself that i am dirt poor?

sunday, i have to go to work. gah. if anyone who reads this will be in makati, i will be the undead manning the glorietta3 ebc. thank you.

and my eyes don’t recognize you at all/ for reasons unknown

I learned a lot in our company team building this weekend. First, is that watching Brandon Flowers smile and dance in The World We Live In video and trying to replicate the Wonder Girls‘ Nobody dance steps through the magic of a well equipped iPod makes a really fun bus ride. Think Cheesy Ums Pringles and Combos on a field trip. It’s on the same level of fun. Although by the time we got to Antipolo I was already dead on my feet. Call me an old woman, but you try waking up at 4am on a fine lazy Saturday morning when you’ve already had a hellishly sleep-deprived week. It’s not highly recommended. My eyes are just little lines on my face now, with sacks beneath them.

Tt was always fun listening to Mr Miyagi (Miyagi-sensei, osashiburi!!), erm., HR Training and Development Master Sir Ted. The man has been retired for like eight years, but he can still stand up straight and talk coherently at eleven PM while the rest of us were drowsing in our Monoblocs. He never (and i mean it) runs out of once-upon-a-time, fox-and-cat types of stories to tell, although he’s long been mixing up his cliches and sayings. But we forgive the nice old man and his corduroy Ponys.

I was admittedly asleep half the time in the discussions (whether my eyes were wide open or only slightly drooping, yes sir my consciousness has long left the bulding), but the outdoor activities were not forgiving. A beach ball hit me in the head thrice, I fell on my knees on the hot cement, I was fed on by the hugest mosquito i ever saw in my life, and I’m still waiting for the soreness in my limbs to go away. I’m so exhausted, and I just can’t hide it.

When session ended at eleven last night I really meant to go to sleep. asap. But somebody said there was a karaoke machine at the game room, and you can’t really say no when the big boss is there and a senior manager is offering you alcohol, can you? Proper social adult drinking, anyone? Apparently six shots of orange vodka makes my head all light and woozy, and seven shots makes my words come out slurred. So I really had to stop there. Brandon Flowers then lulled my air-filled head to sleep. His voice guaranteeD a hangover-free morning.

Please see my mental picture below.

The bus left for Makati at around one o clock and dropped me off at the Ortigas MRT, but of course I missed my stop and landed in Trinoma with my sack of a backpack. I must have looked like a pissed off, punch-drunk kid from a blasted field trip when I got off the train.

Now I have to think of an excuse to get out of washing my dirty clothes, and I have to find out the betting odds for the NFL 2009 season, because I apparently have to write a 1000-word article about it, and the deadline is tonight.

Won’t they cancel work tomorrow for SONA too???