Overwhelmed: A 'Me' Post

Once again, I'm engulfed by a huge wave of sadness. These waves come and go, like it does for everyone, but in the meantime, the big waves crash into me like I'm the shore and everyday's a full moon. I honestly didn't think it'd be this difficult to be away from home.

Overwhelmed is the best word to describe what I'm feeling. On top of the list of why I'm feeling like this is the language barrier. French, while a beautiful language, is terribly difficult to learn or even be familiar with. Being completely and utterly lost in a sea of indiscernable talk makes me feel isolated from everything and everyone. The introvert in me is inclined to curl up in the darkest corner of the shell, if only to find a little bit of comfort within myself.

In My Bedroom

Things to take note of for anyone who plan to sleep over:

1. I sleep on the right side of the bed, next to the sidetable where the phone, the router, the glass of water, and the scissors are (in case of a night invasion of zombies and/or aliens and/or robbers)

2. The window blinds always have to be angled upward instead of downard because I like waking up seeing the rays of sunlight on the ceiling (where my glow in the dark stars are). 

3. When you feel the need to use the loo in the middle of the night when all the lights are turned off and the room is pitch black, you have to tread carefully because you never know what you might step on (like shoes or, um, deodorant).

4. You have to learn to sleep on one side of the bed because the other side is filled with gadgets, clothes, bags, eyeglasses, remote controls, and other random whathaveyous (they keep me company, I get scared lonely sleeping alone in a big bed).

and lastly,
5. While inside the premises, you are not allowed to say anything derogatory about Fall Out Boy, Bugsy the shih tzu, my cooking ability, and my boobs (my room, my world).

That is all, thank you!

Nope, I'm not what you think I am.

Time for a new entry. Why? It's the last day of the (not-so) long weekend and I'm not quite ready to think of the workweek up ahead. I thought of finding people to talk to/with, but I decided against it eventually. Instead of chatting with strangers, I figure this is a better way to spend the hour. Yes, spilling my guts out to the vast world of the intarwebz.

Some people seem to think that I'm rolling in money. It annoys me because I know that I'm definitely not rich, I make the same amount of money as anyone from the same age bracket does. It frustrates me, when anyone insists that I am rich, because all factors considered, I probably earn less than your average Joe, because I shifted careers very recently. In other words, I had to start from scratch again and had to take a pay cut (and I still wonder, from time to time, if I did the right thing). So anyway, I asked a few people why they think what they think about me, and here's what I came up with.

Here are the Top 3 Reasons Why People Think I Don't Have Money Problems.

1. Having studied at DLSU.

The school seems to have a reputation of breeding no-good, dumb-ass, and bratty rich kids whose parents can afford to burn money as if it grew on trees. This stereotype isn't quite fair, in my opinon. I have met many sensible, polite, and smart kids who came from this school. They had the best Information Technology curriculum (or at least, one of the better ones) in my time. Also, tuition was high, but my parents bought one of those college assurance plans and all they had to pay for while I was college was my allowance, my school books, and other minor miscellaneous expenses.

2. Using a car to work.

Sure, I use a car, but only because commuting from my house to work is a hassle and is pretty expensive too. I drive a second hand, 2003 Mitsubishi Lancer bought from a family friend at a very good price. It's a pretty nice car, and I have no complaints with it, but it's not mine because I didn't pay for it, my mom did (with money that she worked for), because I don't have that kind of dough on me. I pay for gasoline, toll and parking fees though, which amounts to around p250 per day, or at least p5000 per month, and that's assuming I don't go out on weekends. The maintenance and running expenses eats up a big chunk of my salary too.

3. Travelling to different countries.

Okay, I like experiencing different cultures, eating their food, seeing their traditions, buying their stuff, also getting a break from the monotony of daily life. Travelling is one of those things I'd shell out good, hard-earned money for. I don't necessarily spend beyond my means on these trips, they come few and far in between, and are considered as treats to myself.

Also, I was a bum for half of last year, I dipped so far into my savings that I don't have one anymore. Now I'm trying to pay up my debts little by little and at the same time spend for my daily living expenses, all on a salary just a bit above minimum wage. Just like you and the rest of the world (who isn't Paris Hilton), I have bills that need to be paid and debts that catch up on me.

Oi, it's May.

Today's the first day of May and it being a holiday, I've stayed in my bed far longer than what's usual, it (my bed) hasn't had this much sleep action since I stopped being a bum sometime last year. I actually woke up early because of a phone call (it was a wrong number), got up to prepare my breakfast (by "prepare" I meant, getting the food and arranging them on a plate) and brought it back to bed and ate it there.. here, I mean. Yep, I'm still horizontal while writing this post.

I wanted to sleep some more but apparently, there's only so much sleep time one's body can take, and I've reached the limit. So, here I am, cluttering up my journal for lack of better things to do in bed. I don't have anything important to say, really, but I'm in bed and my brain is refusing to tell its bodily functions to.. um.. function.

Yea, I get easily distracted, YM is keeping me distracted for the meantime. So let me end this bleh post with a general wish that this holiday will turn out to be a good one for all of us. *salutes*

There's pork in the barrel.

It's tax season once again and in all my years as a taxpaying citizen of this country (meaning, 3 long years), I've never had to compute for my own tax. I always just let the company accountants do their jobs. I mean, that's what they're there for, right? These accountants, they slaved away their college years as students learning to do that shiz. Their parents spent their hard-earned money for these kids to know how to add up the numbers. Companies pay these people good money so they do their maths right. So I figure, I might as well let them do their thing.

Besides, I do math like Peter does it.

I wish I was kidding.

This year, because I had two employers for 2008, I had to file my own Income Tax Return (ITR) to consolidate the taxes withheld from both companies.
Because both these companies computed for my taxes separately, and deducted exemptions for the year separately, there was a discrepancy in the total amount that I had to pay the government. And because yesterday was the last day for filing ITRs, I had to pay the remaining amount in full on that day, leaving me a whole lot poorer and a whole lot unhappier. Burned a whole in my already burnt pocket, that one did. So yea, it'll be water for dinner for the next half a year or so. On the upside, I'll probably lose the extra pounds I've been wanting to lose.

Anyway, I prepared all the forms in the morning, and decided to give up my lunch break to file the papers and expected to be back a couple of hours in. But crawling through Makati lunch hour traffic and looking for parking near the BIR building took me about an hour and a half already. Waiting in line with all the last minute filers took longer and it was extremely agitating for everyone. It was a sweltering day, and strangers were in close quarters, all sweaty and antsy, having been required by the law to pay their hard earned money to the country. Tension was understandable and expected. While waiting in line, I met quite a few interesting people. The stereotypes amused me, so that's what my next blog entry will be about.

The trip took a good four hours of my day, longer than planned. I was tired and sweaty (and late for work) after it, but it was a pretty good experience, all in all. Now I don't have to depend solely on the accountants to do my taxes for me next year. I now know to compute how much pork to put in the barrel.

stealing the sparkle.

Yes, I am blogging again.

I'm not really a true blue writer. I don't have dreams of writing professionally or commercially. But I do enjoy writing from time to time. I get moments when the thoughts inside my head simply have to be translated into words, into phrases or stanzas, into sentences, paragraphs, chapters. Sometimes it seems that my brain wants to spit out something, and it knows that I am not a good talker (*cough* terrible actually *cough). So it finds another output channel, which is writing (really it's typing cause It's been a while since I last held a pen to write long paragraphs)  

And even though I write occasionally, I can't say I'm an exceptionally good writer. It's just, my mind translates its ideas into words. Sometimes the words don't even make sense. Like, there's no glue to hold the ideas together. But what the hey, it wasn't meant to be understood by those who can't. So for those who read, and understand what I mean, congratulations, and thanks for taking the time to read my words, for those who cant, it's perfectly all right, even I don't understand what I'm writing from time to time.

All that shit i just typed? It was all meant to lead to the fact that I haven't written in such a long time. Bleh, okay fine, I update this journal sometimes about stuff that goes on in my life. What I meant was that I haven't had an interesting idea for a storyline or even an article in sooo long. The last interesting one I can remember was a short story about the Undead, where i was able to write an outline of the story, and several paragraphs but never got to polish the story. My heart just wasn't in it anymore, even though when I first got that idea; the sagging skin, glassy eyes, unbearable stench, and slow slur of the Undead was as clear as day in my head. But now, it's just all feels like some foggy illusions of the distant past. My passion for writing has died.

Which can't be good, can it? I may be the first non-writer to have non-writer's block. What the hell happened to creativity? Whatever happened to inspiration? Years ago, inspiration came from even the most simple things, like a stain on the carpet that is sort-of shaped like a witch with a wart on her nose if you squint your eyes just a teensy bit and tilt your head at a certain angle. Lately, when I see a stain, my eyes just fade into dull gray and I just think, "Oh, that needs to be washed." Eeeeyuck, how boring is that? Have I become too jaded? Where is that little girl who used to dream of one-eyed dragons and rainbow-maned unicorns and fluffy little balls of koosh in electric pink and candy yellow? Where is that girl who used to grin in amazement at the sunset when the sky turned into a shade of cotton candy pink or when it turned into that specatular mix of midnight blue and happy orange. Where is she that waited for the full moon to come to simply stare at the clear and perfectly rounded white against a backdrop of night grey sprinkled with stars that winked merrily? Where is she that tirelessly mixed oil crayons to get the perfect shade of lavander just to color the unicorn's horn?

Where is she? Is she being pushed back by the exceptionally strong tandem of sarcasm and cynicism? Is she still fighting for survival? Or has she died completely, forgotten and decaying? ><

sometimes you just have to read between the lines..

I've never been good at getting to the point.

And people have told me quite a few times. Sometimes jokingly, other times seriously, sometimes politely and other times rudely. And I do sort of agree, time comes when I've opened my mouth to speak and then in the middle of it all; i stop, pause, and think: "What the hell did that thing-I-just-said have to do with what I'm really trying to say??"

I'm not sure, perhaps because growing up, I never had to explain myself completely to others. People around me always seemed to understand what I was trying to get at, so I didn't have to try very hard at making them understand.

You know those people that nod in agreement in the middle of a 'kwento' session and even before you can finish it off, they offer their conclusion to your intro? and if you say "it's not that.." they offer another possible conclusion.. and that goes on until you agree at some point? Well, i think i had a lot of those people growing up, up to now even. Hence, i seldom got to finish my own stories. Except in my mind. Sometimes it's all formed coherently and quite nicely inside my head but when i open my mouth, all coherence comes crashing down. Open mouth, insert foot situations are normal occurrences.

Add to that, the hesitance i have about sharing true emotions. That personal space bubble? Mine's a whole lot bigger than Bubbleboy's. Made bigger by certain circumstances that involved trusting too much and getting a kick in the arse, a blow to the head, a pitchfork on the back. But I am learning to be a tad bit more open though, little by little. Baby steps. Baby steps and i'll get there.

Coz i'm slowly realizing that while some people are dirtbags, others are okay. Nice even. But i'll never be the person who spills her guts out to the person she just met a week ago, i can't be the person who can be close buddies with a person she'd just met that day, i'm not the type who'd gush about feelings too openly. Even if we've known each other for a bit of time, I won't necessarily bare my heart and mind and soul to you.

So you know.. the things I'm not saying? Get it.
:P