The Phone Monkey Knows No Fear

There's those few seconds of unsettling silence between me and the customer after I relay the bad news. It could be that they can't install on both a Mac or a PC at the same time, or maybe they have to pay for technical support, or it could be that their version is only supported online. Whatever it is, there's that small amount of time, which technically is just a drop in the bucket of the time-space continium, but seems to last much, much longer than it actually is.

"I'm sorry, but the license only allows you to install on one platform, even if we allow two machines per copy..."

"Unfortunately, the support for your version is only found online"

"Aside from our online forums, you can choose to log a paid incident for phone support"

Then the silence ensues. As I've said, it ranges from 3-5 seconds, which is really not a long time at all. But it feels like forever considering the white-knuckled anticipation of what the caller will say next. In fact, I feel like one of those war correspondents on the battelfield waiting for the maelstrom that will follow after hearing the sound of the mortar firing. The next few seconds could mean greivious harm, or a narrow brush with death.

....
....
....

"You have got to be kidding me."

"No way, this is bullshit."

"Oh, okay."

Predictably, the last response is the one I always hope for. I secretly exhale a sigh of relief when they actually accept what I have to tell them. Of course there will be times when the customer will give you a piece of his/her mind in a not-so-eloquent fashion. Ah, such is the life of a phone monkey. Not that I'm really complaining now, my last call center gig was ten times worse, given that 90% of calls you get involve a seething, computer illiterate homeowner. Add that to the lousy management, which made me quit 3 months into the job. So you see, it's just a little something I observed from my current work.

*****************************************

On to other things, my sister nearly lost her life recently due to food posioning. Not spoiled food mind you, but chemical posioning. They were making homemade corned beef and the excessive amount of sodium nitrate was the culprit. The recipe called for about half a teaspoon of the stuff to go with a pound of the beef. Apparently, it was the maid that erroneously added something like FOUR fucking tablespoons of the additive. Propotionally that would make it an overdose amounting to 400%. That caused my sister to collapse in front of her kids after ingesting the tainted meat. Had they gone to Makati Medical Center, she wouldn't have made it since she was in Alabang at the time. It was a good thing they sought treatment at a nearby hospital instead. Otherwise, I'd be on funeral leave right now. Her face was stiff and her hands slowly turned black for christ's sake.

So kids, remember to check the amount of death sodium nitrate that you put into your homemade corned beef, because that may be the last thing you'll eat in this god-forsaken earth.

People=Shit (Slipknot)

Here we go again, motherfucker

Come on down, and see the idiot right here

Too fucked to beg and not afraid to care

What's the matter with calamity anyway?

Right? Get the fuck outta my face

Understand that I can't feel anything

It isn't like I wanna sift through the decay

I feel like a would, like I got a fuckin' Gun against my head,

you live when I'm dead

One more time, mother fucker

Everybody hates me now, so fuck it

Blood's on my face and my hands, and I

Don't know why, I'm not afraid to cry

But that's none of your business

Whose life is it? Get it? See it? Feel it? Eat it?

Spin it around so i can spit in its face

I wanna leave without a trace

Cuz I don't wanna die in this place

People = Shit

People = Shit (Whatcha gonna do?)

People = Shit (Cuz I am not afraid of you)

People = Shit (I'm everything you'll never be)

People = Shit

It never stops - you can't be everything to everyone

Contagion - I'm sittin' at the side of Satan

What do you want from me?

They never told me the failure I was meant to be

Overdo it - don't tell me you blew it

Stop your bitchin' and fight your way through it

I'M - NOT - LIKE - YOU - I - JUST - FUCK - UP

C'mon mother fucker, everybody has to die

People = Shit People = Shit (Whatcha gonna do?)

People = Shit (Cuz I am not afraid of you)

People = Shit (I'm everything you'll never be)

People = Shit

Bummed Out

Sadly my hopes for being a daywalker crashed and burned in a blaze of glory for the fourth time. Like a WWII fighter plane shot down by an ICBM. Just came up from the 31st floor to have a smoke. Shit, shit, shit. My breath tastes of nicotine and iced tea, and my morale is sinking like a camel in quicksand. The more I try to shake myself out of it, the deeper I get. What else to do but stay still and hope for someone to pull me out? Yes indeed, yes in-fucking-deed.

A co-worker came up to me to propose a networking scheme he has going on. Incidentally, I tried to pitch a same gimmick to him a few months back because my mom gently forced me to join her new money-making venture. Currently, that hasn't panned out for me too much. Going back to said co-worker's proposal, it seems legal enough: it's a well-established business entity in the book/magazine/comic trade that's planning to try its hand at this crazy game called networking. It's certainly cheaper to sign up for this one, as opposed to the afformentioned scheme I got myself into some time ago. Same deal: you get a referral fee for those that sign up under your own name, or known as a downline to those familiar with the game. Same promises of untold riches too: about 200 grand a month if you're really, really good at it. "Good" being the sales talking kind of guy, which I'm not. That's probably why I'm not going to be up to it. That's just not me. And besides, I need to focus my attention on our tutorial business.

There's a lot of money out there; the trick is how to get your share of it. Sigh, they're just sheets pf paper that if you had piles of, would create an illusion of happiness. But I would like to have just enough of it to live a bit comfortably. Is that all there is to life? Join the rat race to secure a financial oasis in this poverty-sticken desert of unemployment and rising rates of inflation? That's how a man's worth is measured by, right? The so-called diskarte. The true yardstick of one's manhood.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Be a man, Marko. Suck it up. Stop whining. Get down and give me infinity. Hop to it, soldier.

Okay, I'll stop now.

I fought the law

Last Friday I nearly got caught by the MMDA upon executing a right turn into Ortigas Ave coming from J. Vargas. I came from work the night before and had forgotten that the car I was using was not allowed the following morning (color coding). The traffic enforcer was standing by the corner, and had eyes like a hawk. I tried tailgating the car in front of me to obscure the incriminating license plate I bore (which ends in the number "9"). No good. Shortly after I made a right, he gestured with his hand to pull over. He probably knew I was pretending not to see him so he called to his companions (whom I didn't notice until I came out of the turn). To my horror, his buddies had a motorcycle. I heard them honking their motorcycle horn, or was it a siren ("wang-wang")?

In any case, I just drove along at a moderate pace to keep the charade going. I dared not speed up, because that would give away that I was guilty. Better to feign ignorance, right? I thought to myself, "what the hell am I doing?". I figured I wasn't in the mood to argue with the MMDA dude, or fork over some bribe cash to squirm my way out of the situation...it was already an exhausting night for me as it was.

I was furiously checking my rearview mirror to see if they were going to chase me. I was approaching the C5/ Ortigas intersection and was panicking because the traffic light didn't look like it was going to turn green any time soon. That meant I had to stop, which will risk my capture if they had gone after me. I suddenly remembered The World's Scariest Car Chases. Well, it never came to that, but my little brush with the fuzz was a bit of a rush. So, I opted to make a left into Libis instead to keep my momentum going. I knew a route going home from there (albeit longer), so all was well.

I guess they figured it wasn't worth it to go after me. I'd like to think that the befuddled traffic enforcer muttered "shit!! there goes my breakfast".

Yes indeed, I am a bad, baaaaad, man.

Disgruntled Phone Monkey

11:19 pm:

A lot of things are getting me down. Work-wise, I feel a dark cloud looming over me, bearing its weight on my shoulders...even though it's high above. Its presence is more than enough to keep my mind a stirred frenzy of restlessness. I can't keep focused if my body lacks the rest it needs. I need a vacation. Have you seen that Lucky Me commercial where the guy was so exhausted from work that he was oblivious to the cars on the street? Well that's me, but it will take more than a cup of noodles to fix me up.

This shall come to pass, like any other phases or mood swings. Off to work for now; it's the best way to drown the thoughts gnawing away at peace of mind.

12:08 am:

Just finished a call. It just occured to me that I'm growing increasingly unhappy because I feel entrapped in my schedule. I feel like I don't have a life anymore; it's just a perception though. I feel trapped by my severe lack of sleep. I need a new schedule. Or a new job. Or hire a nanny so I can sleep. Either way, something's gotta give. It can be my mind, my body, or my schedule.

Something. Anything.

2:59 am:

Got out of a 30 minute break half an hour ago. Tried to steal a bit of sleep. Now I feel like a zombie struggling to resurrect myself back to life. I am the undead. The rec room feels like home so it's really hard for me not to sleep so soundly. I always have strange dreams when I sleep there.

I'm sliding downhill into a murky pool of depression when I think about my son. It sucks that I'm not there at night.

5:23 am:

Night of the living dead part two. Waking up from my lunch break is a major fucking drag. Someone give me a medal: with my brain at half capacity, I still had it in me to establish rapport with the customer. Hell, I even made her laugh:

Me: So, did u change Windows versions when you re-did your PC?

Her: Uh, I went from XP to 2K because it was grindingly slow from all those updates you know?

Me: Yeah...ok, just give me a few moments to generate your activation code....I'm on XP.

Her: Ok, hahaha.

Way Past Strike Three

Currently blasting A Crow Left of The Murder on my co-worker's overly borrowed headphones. I need it to drown out my thoughts on my fate as an employee of this company. I'm schduled for a meeting with my team lead (TL) to discuss my evaluation/performance as of late.

This morning, I overslept at work for the fourth time this month. What a way to start 2005. I usually catch a wink during my lunch break at the office rec room. Problem is, I don't hear the celphone alarm when it goes off...hence the chronic tardiness. Just one instance of overbreak (10-15 minutes) reflects badly on our performance. Imagine the consequences of my offenses so far:

Strike 1: 20 minutes overbreak
Strike 2: 30 minutes overbreak
Strike 3: 1 1/2 hours overbreak
Strike 4: same as #3

I'm not that lazy, mind you. There are probably gonna be some preachy types lurking around here so I welcome it. But it's just that I only get 2-3 hours of sleep everyday (during the day literally, night shift sucks). Blame it on the responsibilties of married life and parenthood I suppose. I swear, I didn't mean it. This job is important to me, believe me. I should be telling that to my boss huh?

I'm just so goddamned tired. I don't know if I can find any other work that pays this much, which is higher than most entry level positions.

I sit here in anticipation, pondering on what other opportunities lie ahead of me should I be voted off the island. And we all know anticipation is worse than the proverbial shit-hits-the-fan. Add to the fact that I have an upcoming 2-day suspension for accumulated tardiness last year. I'll be lucky if they extend my suspension...I'd like to think of it as "unpaid leave".

New Skin

Looking good so far. A bit too plain maybe, but it's soothing. What do you think?

Not much calls tonight. Staring at the monitor for several hours on end is mind-numbing.

I feel like the screen is sucking my soul, awash in the wired world of the web.

Post Mortem Thoughts

If my blog was a significant other, it would break up with me for not even acknowledging that we've been together for a year...and neglecting it for so long.

Ahhh..... *sigh*. It's been quite a bit for me these past two weeks. A lot's happened so I'm bound to forget some details. The gears in my brain are slowly grinding again. I'm still blowing off the proverbial dust from my brain, so grammar and creative writing is optional at the moment. I've been on leave for close to two weeks because of a family emergency. My Aunt fell ill and passed away. It's something to watch new life being brought into this world but there no words when you see someone die in front of you. This was the woman who cared for me when I was alone. When I was practically the black sheep, she was there to support me. And all this while she was an ocean away from me. She would call me up like we were next door. And now her earthly vessel is a jar of ashes.

Like what I said at the mass, we all had a way of dealing with the grief; my way was that I never said goodbye to her during her final breaths. I sincerely believe that while her physical form is no more, she is still with us. What can we learn from all of this? Pass on the goodness she showed to all of us while she spent her days here on earth. Pass on the spirit of generosity and love. We all carry the piece of her that she shared with us. Take it out to the world and pass it on. My other aunt has a well-developed third eye which allows here to channel messages from those that have passed on. When an uncle of my mine died (who happens to be the husband of my recently deceased aunt) this other aunt of mine could tell us what messages he had for us. I recall that my uncle wanted to tell me that I'll be successful someday.

I'm being paranoid here, but since the dead can see these kind of things, I'm afraid my Aunt will now be able to see the blackness of my heart. The other side of me, the things that I'm ashamed of. It hurts to think that all she knew of me was that I was a good nephew. Now she'll see what I really am...the bad thoughts, the selfishness, the ugly things behind the facade.

I had to step on some toes and upset some people to leave and visit her, but I had to. The circumstances made it inevitable. I wouldn't have if it wasn't so important to me.

It was a surreal experience trying to get back home from the US. My status a non-revenue chance passenger doesn't allow me to get a seat if all slots are full. It took me several days before I could go home - hence it involved several trips to the airport, carrying my luggage and bringing it back to my cousin's place when they couldn't let me on the bloody plane. It's a good thing my cousin lives nearby, otherwise I'd either have to go to a nearby hotel, or sleep at the airport.

During this time, there was a strange old guy who I had a conversation with. He was an ex-military black guy married to a Filipina. He's been around, he tells me. A Vietnam veteran he is, and no stranger to the ways of the world. We were stuck in the same boat as he was a chance passenger as well. Huddled in the chance passenger crowd, we were waiting for any word of available seats. This was when he came up to me to start some chit-chat. He's a tall man, about 6 feet or so, bearing lines of experience and age on his face. He was chewing some sort of cinnamon candy which I could tell from his breath. They guy asked me to explain to his wife as to why we couldn't get a ride home. So being the nice guy I am, I explained to her (in tagalog) our common predicament.

He went on to explain to me how he knows so much about the Philippines having been around the world during his younger years in the military. It was the first country he has been to outside of the US. I didn't really answer much, I let him do most of the talking. Apparently, it must have made quite an impression for him to be knowledgable about the Marcos era onwards. The general flow of the dicussion was how the "screwed up" booking system of the airline was reflective of the general corruption back home. He goes on to preach to me (in a non-threatening and inspirational way) how I should be proud to be a Filipino and take it out to the world. I should not let the corrupt political powers that be control me and be their puppet. We should collectively tell them "hey, we're not going to take any more of this". Then he says "now I'm not asking you should start a revolt, but just be proud of what you are and don't let them control you". He tells me "now I now you're probably thinking, 'what the fuck is this black guy talking about? He doesn't even have a country of his own' ".

So here I am back home, with no intentions of starting any sort of social upheaval. Just the desire to go through the day without a hitch.

Happy Thanksgiving

More than half of our staff is out on holiday tonight (well, the sun is already out, but you know what i mean) for thanksgiving. Since we work on U.S hours, we rest when the yanks do. So here I am, with the headphones cranked up all the way to drown out the hip-hop music my co-workers are playing nearby. What is it about modern rap and hip-hop that gets people so hooked? Poke me for my musical prejudice, but any genre that has nothing better to sing/rap about than bitches, money, bling-bling, cars and other mundane shallowness is SHIT in my book.

This hatred of mine has deep roots stemming all the way back to high school. I was the sullen, black Sabbath-head kid in the back who was subject to occasional, not-so-subtle ridicule for one reason or another. Most of the popular guys were of the ghetto wannabe sort. You know who I'm talking about: the loud, boisterous blabbermouths who own souped-up, tricked out honda civics (and other asian economy car types) made to look like sports cars, which play fat-bass beats meant to attract maximum attention. Those guys that have this illusion that their rides are some sort of phallic enhancement. Anyway, I hated them for being shallow assholes that think that they're some sorta demigod or something. Jealous? Honestly, maybe partially because they were popular and all. But most of the bile that rose in my throat could be attributed to the attitude that they put out, and I linked that to their fucking music.

College did nothing to cool down the flames of hatred I had for rap/hip-hop. My girlfriend then (now my wife) has an ex who fit the aforementioned thug wannabe profile. Needless to say, it only fueled my rage against their shallow music. I hated that culture of fucking testosterone. Yes, you could call me an uptight bastard - it's not as if rock isn't capable of the same debauchery you might say. BUT at least rock can be that OR something better...like sticking-it-to-the-man as Jack Black put it in "School Of Rock". Prepackaged corporate angst? Maybe. But not all of it, I'd like to think. I have this high-minded ideal that rock can be a vehicle of change, of passive resistance, that you can play heavy music but be cerebral at the same time. But we all know that is not the case for some. (read: Creed, Kid Rock, etc) These days, the hate I feel has calmed down somewhat, but it flares up once in a while. Which brings me back to today. I don't hold it against my co-workers that they listen to that kind of music...I guess they just want to have a good time and enjoy themselves right? It should be no biggie at all. So, there is no point to this jigsaw of a rant. Feel free to share your thoughts, be it in concurrence (is that a word?) or violent disagreement.

BOO.




Just some tomfoolery at work. If you look very closely, you'll see my (real) finger sticking out of the jacket sleeve :D

On the Humdrum Stuff of Life

This blog has been more of a punching bag these past few months. Well, it's probably time to actually muster enough brain cells to use this as a journal instead...as in, "a log of the recent events in my life".

The business that we've (my wife and I) been losing sleep over to get started has finally kicked off. Customers have been coming in but it is going to be a bit stressful for me to teach in the evening before going to work at night. Here's hoping it takes off - good start so far. I'm going to be teaching some kids elementary Japanese too. It's funny when I think about it. I feel more responsible, like I'm a full functional adult. Like those busy busy people who have two jobs just to make ends meet.

In fact, I was just teaching this 12-year old boy before I went to work. Lyn had a late afternoon class so I covered for her tonight. The kid's pretty smart, but he's a smart ass too, and impatient to boot. He was basically raring to go home so he tried to breeze through his math homework and other various assignments. And I told myself back when I was still studying that I'd rather not be a teacher since I don't want to deal with impossible kids. So it got me thinking on the way to work: I wonder how I'm gonna deal with Dan when he gets to that age? Well, deal is probably not a good word, maybe handle is more appropriate. One day at a time I guess. That's the mindset I'm trying to adapt these recent days. One day at a time...before you know it, a year, a decade, a good chunk of your life has gone by.

Here I am at work, dragged back into the night shift. Some guys in the managerial position at work tell me I need to go back to night duty to boost my stats, since I'm on the day shift more often. Less calls during the day mean less calls and less utilization (well, as far as our phone client performance monitor tells us, since it doesn't care about the emails you answer). Oh well...hope I can go back to daylight by the time the holidays come around.

That's all for now. I'm gonna update the photo album with some pics I took at the office.

Turn off the lights

Listen to this.


Now scroll down...


































This a voice recorded by Karen Mossey, whom she believes to be that of her dead father. Of course I'm not sure if this is real or not, but if it is....oh man.

Nginiig: The scripted files

What's worse than a run-the-mill, hackeneyed "reality" show? A cheap rip-off of a run-the-mill, hackeneyed "reality" show. A pathetic attempt to imitate its western versions (like scariest places on earth), this show didn't catch my attention at first, but it pissed me off after seeing a couple of episodes.

This is another of ABS-CBN's contribution to the saturated "reality" market. Since I'm sick of these type of shows invading the airwaves, seeing this travesty just makes me all the more sick. Oh, the intensity of raw, shaky footage! Why do people gobble up this stuff? OMFG the night vision makes their eyes look freaky and shit! Oooh, someone is crying, such significance! Just because footage is raw, it doesn't mean you can't edit it to bend the truth, and then package it with this "reality" crap. I appreciated what the Blair Witch Project did (with its own flaws), but the concept has been whored out by the local media giants.

The introductory dialgoue between the three guys at the start and in between the actual program is more fake than Pamela Anderson's enhancements. God, why don't you just whip out the script and read the lines to each other, please. Reality? Riggghhhhhht. And one of those "questors" wearing those geeky emo glasses makes my eye twitch too. His so-called visions are cringe-worthy, to put it lightly. I can't stand to see him get all teary-eyed and nervous when he "senses" a presence, etc.

I've had supernatural experiences myself, and I am open to the fact that there are things that science can't explain. Our world has long been in existence before we came into the picture so there are forces beyond our understanding for now. But, come on, this show reeks of utter phoniness. A big middle finger goes out to the people that came up with this.

Bling-Bling

** ripped off this funny stuff from http://www.negativepositive.org/Things-that-need-to-die.html

I really don't mean to give rap so much attention, but once again, something made my eye twitch enough that I couldn't help myself. There's a video for this 50 Cent collaboration called G-Unit. The song is "Poppin Them Thangs," and yes, I know you're as impressed as I am with that title. Basically the checked box on the Formulaic Rap Video Construction form is C. "I'm a Mob Kingpin, so don't try to step or you'll get smacked down - note how nobody smiles ever - that means WE HARD." Of course, having the ability to rhyme words with other words makes you an unstoppable force in the underworld, able to strike fear in the hearts and command the respect of big time mob bosses. "Holy shit. He can rhyme FOCUS with LOCUST! Oh, man! He's got a big gold medallion... AND IT SPINS! That spinning medallion definitely makes him too HARD for our entire criminal organization to compete with. Don't mess!" There are subtitles at the bottom of the screen showing the dialogue between the various mob bosses. One of them says, "I don't approve of you. You are SHINNING a light into our darkness." Who fucking wrote these subtitles, Groundskeeper Willy? How could such a glaring spelling mistake slip by the hundreds of people who no doubt saw the completed video before its release? Wasn't there even ONE person who saw it and said,"Yo, dawg, dat's dope, yo, werd. But, yo! You misspelled 'shining'"? How could they spend millions on the production of the album and video and then hire some illiterate fuckass to write the subtitles? How? Because obviously all of the people involved in production of the video, especially the artists, ARE RETARDED. I caught the error the very first time I saw the video, and I was only watching it for the same reason I would listen to G. Gordon Liddy or Rush Limbaugh; to know more about what I think is stupid. If you're going to spend assloads of money, put it on MTV and BET and show it to millions of people on probably a half-hourly basis (on the rare occasions that they are actually showing music videos) wouldn't it make sense to proofread it to avoid looking like illiterate fucktards? There's no way you can play it off as the intentional misspelling that rappers always do, either. This isn't "dawgz," this is "SHINNING," I guess meaning "to SHIN." I guess when you're as stupid as G-Unit is anyway, literacy can't help or hurt your image. I wonder how many of their fans even noticed. I guess if you're stupid enough to think G-Unit is really cool, you're stupid enough to miss glaring spelling errors in bold capital letters at the bottom of your TV. In a way, though, I have to say I'm proud of G-Unit for employing people with physical disfigurements. Lloyd Banks proves that even if you have a hare lip and a lazy eye, you can make it as a big time rap star.

Side note: The other options on the Formulaic Rap Video Construction Form are:

A. "Gigantic party at a mansion with lots of money falling from the sky, lots of $200K+ cars parked out front and lots of girls in bikinis. Girl to guy ratio is 5/1. Everyone at the party is rich and black,"

B. "Getting chased by the cops in my Lamborghini talking on the cell phone while a hot chick or the album's producer is driving. Variation: Instead of cops chasing me in a Lamborghini, this could be interchanged with cruising in a Hummer limo and giving everyone 'the vapors,' Same shit, different vibe."

D. "Every girl in the club is mostly naked and very attractive and is so impressed by my jewelry that they're all competing to get to fuck me"

E. "Generic choreographed dance video with amorphous high contrast sets and possibly flood lights arranged to spell out the rapper's name,"

F. "Seemingly pedestrian environment such as a barber shop, diner, car wash, movie theatre, etc. where lots of hot chicks are dumping their boyfriends because my jewelry, car, clothes, etc. are so impressive that they just have to fuck me," G. "Here I am hanging out in a shitty neighborhood. This means I'm true to my roots, despite the fact that I arrived in a limo and will be going to a four star restaurant to eat foie gras and beluga caviar after the video shoot." (Default for all selections: Four or six point star filter used on camera lens in conjunction with bright lighting to make jewelry appear to sparkle blindingly.)

***************************

(I hate) Rappers who continually flaunt their jewelry, cars, cell phones, and women, implying somehow that their wealth is due to being some sort of criminal underworld power figure. Of course you have money! Of course you get laid! You're a multiplatinum MUSICIAN, numbnuts. If you put a potato on-stage in front of 10,000 people, SOMEONE would want to fuck it. Last time I checked, the job title "Musician" didn't make you a tough guy, though I feel myself straining calling someone a musician when their real job title should be "Inarticulate guy with an undeserved large ego who has friends in the music industry and puts on a mean face anytime someone puts a camera in front of him." Big Pun died of a heart attack? GO FIGURE! He was 675 pounds and STILL tried to brag about his sexual prowess. Ahh - money, jewelry, cars, guns, and sluts... what an endless source for creative, inspired music writing. (Insert 6 minutes of repeating unchanging sampled beatloop here).

Rotting away

Reading too much highfiber is going to cost me in many ways. The IT guys here in the office will probably hang me to dry for all the supposedly prohibited browsing I've been doing. And to think that rumors were floating around work concerning what actions would be taken to punish our specific deaprtment for abusing our internet rigths. Hey IT guys, this post is a shining example of it! If it's not allowed, then block the sites you don't want us to go to (I'll proably eat those words sooner than I think). It's keeping me away from work, but there isn't any to be done at the moment (zero emails to answered in the queue). Still, I need to read up on some dusty emails sitting in my inbox which contain info on work-related updates, etc. The dark cloud of night-shift duty casts its obese shadow over me, and I've been so out of touch from the stuff I need to know during those unholy hours.

Now, I'm thinking: what if I actually took my Japanese studies (college course) seriously? What if I actually took the pains to learn the language beyond the basic structures and words (which really mean zilch in an actual conversation with a Japanese person or when trying to watch untranslated anime). I sometimes picutre myself as a fluent practitioner of nihonggo, able to strike up a conversation with a Japanese person. Man, imagine the money I'd be earning for doing cool shit like translating documents, or hanging out with business executives as an interpreter for hire. What could be more impressive than speaking and writing like a native!

But that's just me. I've applied numerous times for the Asia Pacific team here at work so that my work hours would be some thing like 6am-3pm. That way I'd have time to take nihonggo classes in the afternoon and really master my stuff. For all the Japanese history/economy/politics classes I took, I really don't recall much. Just bits and pieces to create the illusion that I'm a cultured fellow that's knowledgeable about such things. If I have any aspirations of actually applying my college course into something remotely lucrative, the language compnent is all I really have to go on. I guess I suffer from the rut of mediocrity that call center people experience, namely stuck in a job that has no relation to the stuff they took up in college.

Someday maybe, someday.

Hey guys,

I just added a nifty new feature to my blog - don't forget to vote.

Bitter,

Marko

Hot, fresh, and unorganized thoughts

Just finished through a bunch of emails - time to kick back and log some overdue brain farts looming in my noggin. Currently trying to reproduce the Incubus concert experience by blasting a live CD in my ears right now (song: Circles). I know the last few entries have been reeking with discontent and neagtivity - but what the hell, that's what this blog is for right?? In light of the recent steam I've been blowing off, here's a to-do list for myself (in no particualr order):

- Stop being so pissed off
- Stop slacking off
- Lose some weight for god's sake

Don't get me wrong, I'm greatful for and appreciate the fact that my mom and dad in law lets me stay at their place while me and Lyn are still striving for total financial independence. At the risk of coming off as an ungreatful bastard, I actually find some things I find a wee bit annoying about the circumstances we're in. Lyn's brothers are nice people I can get along with, honestly. It's their quirks that upset me from time to time, even though I'm not the one directly affected by it.

The second eldest sibling has this grating habit of lying down all the frickin' time. When he gets back from school or somewhere else, he's like a hawk, eyeing the living room bench - waiting for the current occupant to leave....and then, bam! He rests his lazy bones on the couch to hog major butt space. When he gets up in the morning, he leaves his room in a hazy state to go downstairs...and sleep some more in his parent's room. Come on man, get off your ass.

The youngest brother is always out of the house. He's always somewhere else, mostly playing that online game I love to hate: Ragnarok (which by the way is why he's flunking at school). I love video games; I spent a lot of my high school and college days in front of the TV, playing until my eyes would bug out. But there's something about that damn game that's so annoying. When I'm at the nearby Internet cafe, throngs of kids are so crazed about it. I don't get it, and I don't want to get it. That's just me, I guess - counterstrike still rocks, even though all I did most of the time was die at the hands of loudmouth braggart kids laughing at the highest possible volume.

Anyway, he always comes home late and never eats the food mom-in-law prepares...magpapaluto pa siya ng ibang pagkain, usually hotdog. He's basically a spoiled brat when it comes to a lot of things. He's too picky with food for one thing. For instance, we were eating fried pork which he didn't find crispy enough. Then, he looked for some Mang Tomas to make up for the said lack of crispiness. The bottle was something like near empty, but you could certainly get a good amount for one serving. He wouldn't have any of it and said in a whiny voice "ayoko na nga...". Mom-in-law proceeded to go next door (they have a duplex type of setup where her sister lives beside us) to get another bottle filled with more of the brown pork sauce.

And when he hasn't arrived by dinnertime, mom-in-law sets aside a portion of food just for bunso after cooking...I don't see her do that for her other two offsprings. Dammit, the guy's already in college for pete's sake. And when he decides to grace us with his presence, mom-in-law sets the plate and utensils for him. Fuck man, you're 18 years old for chrissakes - fix your own plate for the love of god. Annoying, really annoying. When he comes home from school, he'll just dress up to go out again, and come home god-knows-what time.

The special youngest one also was upset because his parents didn't by him a cell phone as promised earlier; money was tight at the time. In an act of rebellion, he flunked all of his subjects in one term. So mom-in-law bought him his precious little camera phone, but whaddaya know, HE STILL FLUNKED HIS SUBJECTS. Puro laboy at ragnarok kasi.

Yeah, it's none of my business, so I don't say anything at home. But when I see stuff like that, I can't help but be irritated.

Me, me, me, me

I've been stressed these past few weeks, so pardon my fucking french. My potty mouth can be blamed on the crap I have to deal with everyday.

I need to blow a few things off my chest. First, money. It's always about money. I thought I could stand not having any of it for extended periods of time (2 weeks), but I'm only human. I can't blame myself if I get weary of lacking that mundane necessity. I know it's just a piece of paper, but goddammit, it really gnaws away at my patience sometimes.

Next, that piece of crap that's supposed to save me from heat exhaustion while driving in the sweltering tropical hell of this country: the car's airconditioner. For this year, I've taken the car to the repair shop several times to have that cursed piece of equipment fixed. It's finding new reasons not to work. If it's not the compressor, it's the pressure switch (so I've been told)....or sometimes, it's the freakin' fuse that conks out. Come on, WTF is up with that?? I am by no means a rich person. I can't afford to have the piece of shit fixed everytime it decides to piss me off and have a tantrum. There was one time it was so hot on the way to work, that I ended up having a fever (trankaso) that night. Imagine how it feels to come in the sub-zero office straight from the extreme heat outside. Picture yourself spending an hour in a sauna then walking into a cold room right after.


Third, the traffic in my area. I'm beginning to hate the City of Rizal for its roads. They're always digging up a HUGE chunk of the street for no apparent reason. Once they're done with whatever the hell they did, the road is left for dead, at the expense of the motorists who have to pass there. The street is literally turned into an obstacle course of potholes the moon would be proud of. It's a waste of OUR taxes. The roads don't look wider or smoother. In fact, it looks shittier than it was before. Not to mention it takes them forever to finish their "road work". The conspiracy theorist voice in my head tells me that they drag out the so-called project as long as they can to jack up the hours, and hence they get paid more. Not only that, the substandard materials they use to patch up the roads literally disentegrate overnight after a strong downpour. It's like they're using oreo cookie crumble instead of ashpalt. I guess the cheaper the stuff they use, the more change they can stuff their own pockets with. The people responsible for this travesty should be punished medieval style: drag them with horses over those broken roads.

Well, that's it for now. I'm sure I'll think of other things to bitch about soon.

Seeing Red

What's the fastest way to empty your bank account? Simple, withdraw from a fucked up ATM. I inputted the amount to be withdrawn (which happened to be everything left in my account) and hit "OK", then the machine gave me the cheerful message:

THIS MACHINE IS TEMPORARILY UNAVAILABLE - PLEASE TRY ANOTHER TERMINAL

I reported this to the branch manager who had the gall to blame my bank's system (my card is Equitable PCI, but they're a different megalink bank) for my loss. Excuse me bitch, but it was YOUR ATM that wigged the fuck out didn't it??

So the hag made a few calls and whoopee-de-do, the ATM came back to life. Of course the amount I withdrew is now gone. Needless to say, I gave the bitch a mouthful (in English, I might add, which she sadly couldn't keep up with). To no avail though - for all my anger, all I could do was fill out a complaint form, which she says will supposedly get my money back within today. "Supposedly?!?" I asked. "I have nothing to go on for the next 2 weeks." She then rephrased her statement assuring me the goddamn money will be back within today.

Maybe since I'm in the call center business, I'm overly critical of customer service that I'm given. But she had no sympathy whatsoever - hell, I probably wouldn't care myself if I was in her shoes. But come on, not even fake empathy? That blows big time.

So here I am at work, with no money or food to last me the day. Not to mention the car airconditioner is flaking out again, which is literally hell driving to the office at high noon. If I were Bruce Banner, I would've torn that place apart.