It’s been almost a month since I lost my job.

Not exactly the words I wanted to write during the holidays but hey, shit happens. Sometimes on a Wednesday, at approximately 3:30 PM. It seemed like a normal workday, but I should've known a fuckening was about to go down because:

1) things have been pretty weird in the office for the past few weeks and 
2) I was listening to Les Miserables... and I'm not even into musicals. 

The humor isn't lost on me.

Re$pect the hu$tle

When I decided to work at a startup, I looked forward to a lot of unconventional office things. You know, the things Hollywood and Entrepreneur articles sold us: the beanbags, free pizza, the cute office pet, maybe standing desks and sleeping pods? 

As an embarrassingly naive fresh graduate, I thought maybe those perks won't make work feel like, well... work. The thing is, it was an early-stage startup. Meaning, we had none of those things. Just plain old desks and swivel chairs. I didn't really mind, though.

But if I had a dollar every time I heard the words ‘hustle’ and ‘grind’, I wouldn’t have needed the job. 

It was a test of character as much as it was a test of skills. And while I was constantly being upskilled, my mental disposition kept faltering.

The Bathroom Breakdowns started happening. The “I haven’t gotten out of bed yet but I can’t wait to go home later” feeling became all-too consuming. To be honest, I was getting ready to jump ship. Joke's on me though, because I didn’t know we were already underwater. 

When it was announced that we were being let go, my mother's "I told you so" spiel started playing in my mind. It hasn't stopped since.

I was already well on my way deeper into the downward spiral. But being suddenly unemployed created a whole new rock-bottom I never thought I'd get at. 

Unemployment, missed flights, and other plot twists

I was at Tagaytay two days after. I've been told I (badly) needed to unwind, so I did and it was all good things. Our room got upgraded for free, the balcony had a great view of the Taal, and best of all, we had beer. 

It's been so long since I last felt this peaceful, even with the unforgiving Tagaytay breeze biting my unemployed ass.

Quite a few things - both good and stupid - also happened since then. Like me purposely missing my flight for an application update that didn't come (please don't do this!!!). 

Or me applying to an advertising agency despite my indifference to bigass corporations. 

Or me being a full-time freelancer again and failing to stick with my ideal daily routine because I don't have the self-discipline to avoid timesucks.

But I'm in a better place now! Slowly getting back on my feet, or something like that. Best thing about this new setup is everything's pretty flexible. Which means I get to do a bit more freelancing on the side (hit me up for gigs, y'all!) and more time to work on my own startup. 

If anyone told me months ago that this is where I'll be by the end of 2018, I would've just laughed and dismissed it as a sick joke. (Or believe it completely and overthink it for the next few weeks because... you know me.) 

But, well. Life has a way of pulling the rug from under you when you least expect it.

All these make me feel like I'm back to square one, but I guess that's fine. I hope this my last plot twist for 2018 though because honestly, this year has been really, really tiring. 

It's been a week since I arrived, and this is the longest I've been in Manila. Sometimes I still think I'm on an extended vacation, but then I enter my room and see my things laid out-- on the bed, inside my closet, or arranged in the organizers I've bought. They're not anymore recklessly crammed inside my luggage. This, I think, is the clearest indication that I'll be staying here for a long time. And the fact that I've already bought a Beep card (thanks, Fiel!).

I'm still trying to get used to everything around here. I'm living with six other people (or more in the next few days, but hopefully not). They're mostly in the BPO industry so their shifting schedules would often leave me alone at night. I don't really mind.

The urban noise keeps me company. I like falling asleep and waking up to it, honesty. There's too much quiet back home. And here, I realize it's oddly comforting to listen to the otherwise chaotic sounds of the city: cars honking and speeding through wet asphalt, the occasional distant sirens, the blaring horn of the PNR train as it passes by.

What I like most about being on the eleventh floor is that I get to look out into the cityscape (especially at night, or at dawn). It's something I've always dreamed about! I zone out a lot when I'm by the window. It's by far my favorite space to clear my head.

So this is me now-- a small girl in a big city. Who would've thought I'd have the guts to leave the familiar comfort of my province. I've been called brave for doing it, and I would like to believe that I am, but deep inside I'm still shaking. 

I'm constantly overwhelmed by the enormity of everything around me, by how little space I seem to take up. The recurring thought is this: I'm just another passing stranger in a sea of millions.

It's hard trying to make a home out of a space shared with strangers. Well, living with strangers isn't really ideal, to begin with, so. Maybe it just takes time getting used to.

It's not like I'm totally unhappy with my current situation. I've always longed for my own space, to live somewhere far from where I grew up, and try to get by on my own. And while my own space for now is just the top bunk of a double deck, I think I'm doing fine. Things turned out way better than I expected, actually.

Still, homesickness has become like a fever I'm trying to ignore. And it shows-- in many different ways, in varying intensities.

A few days ago I was seated across someone who was born on a Wednesday, June 9. I know because she was named after her birthdate, and because we used to go to the same school--I think. I was pretty sure we recognized each other, but such recognition was left unentertained--as it should, because small talk inside a jeepney is the worst kind. (Mentally rehearsed) surprised reaction, a brief hi-hello-how are you, then a dismissive laugh about something that is neither funny nor interesting. The next moments until either of us have to get off would be torturous, as I would be needlessly fidgeting on my phone and doing whatever to avoid eye contact.

I feel weird writing this because we weren't close enough for me to be talking about her on my blog. Or anywhere else, actually.

But anyway, what I'm trying to get at is it was one of those random encounters that made me think back to something I haven't given much thought about. It's strange, yet fascinating. Having been to the same grade school, her presence made me remember my last years there: being pulled out of classes to spend the day in the library, training for the next round of journalism contests, enveloped in an air of false superiority because I wasn't busting my ass over formulas and historical timelines.

I was hell-bent on becoming a journalist. Me, a pre-pubescent kid with the terrible sense of style but with a heart that aches for the written word. So I guess it was where the fondness started. I tried to keep it 'burning' when I entered high school but there wasn't really much opportunities. High school was a wasteland.

And, well, in college I took pride in calling myself a journalism student. Then shamelessly trampled on that identity by involving myself in a sketchy website for the bucks, but let's not talk about that. So I had journalism and advertising classes. It was draining but I wanted nothing to do with production classes so, there. The (exhausting but fulfilling) combo turned out to be a great decision because it opened up for me a lot of opportunities to explore.

It's been almost two months since graduation and I'm still exploring. It's a bit uncomfortable for now but every time I feel like I'm about to shift gears again, I go back to what a client has told me--about taking small but necessary steps to get to where I want to be. It doesn't always have to be a huge leap--which is a great point because me? I'd probably fall hard on my face.

I feel like I've already achieved something just by being able to hold on to my childhood aspiration of being a writer. And things may not be as rosy as I'd hoped it would be but that's okay. I'm definitely more patient now with things in general, but most imporantly with myself.

I can't remember the first time I envisioned my own wedding--or if I ever did. Growing up in a household where marital warfare was more common than eating together just didn't seem to be a conducive environment for me to be thinking about marriage. But I did make dresses out of blankets secured by clothespins, so I guess my childhood wasn't so bland. It was a rite of passage, but one that gave me a scar on the left side of my cheek. (Thankfully, it has faded through time and religious application of Cebo de Macho.)

But anyway, weddings. The more I am exposed to the oftentimes unnecessary extravagance, the more I fall for the idea of an elopement or an intimate wedding. Having more than fifty guests would just be too much for me, but that would probably just be half of my side of the family, so...

By eight am I was already in the hotel lobby, casually jealous of the people enjoying their breakfast buffet but also feeling accomplished. I was the first in my team to arrive and this meant being spared from buying coffee for everyone as a penalty for being late. This also gave me time to mentally and physically prepare myself for today. You'll never really know what you're getting yourself into until you're halfway through the day and you just want to pass out cold on the floor. The first time I assisted in a wedding was a little over two months ago and I swore I would never do it again. And yet...

The renewal of vows was at Molo Church, whose aisle is the longest in Iloilo City. The running joke is it's long enough to give the bride plenty of time to mull things over, and especially to swerve before she reaches the altar.

I was setting up place cards on the first few rows and couldn't help but glance up to the altar. I felt like I should be feeling something, but instead I felt foolish (then a bit guilty, and ultimately, irritably confused). What really am I missing here? was the recurring question as I finished up what I was doing. It was a difficult thing to process, honestly. I felt out of place.

Just before the entourage arrived, I was requested to transfer to the wedding facilitated by the other team. They needed an extra hand since the number of expected guests for that one was almost five-hundred. I already got tired just by knowing that.

It was at Jaro Cathedral and by the time the ceremony was starting, the place was packed. It was exhausting to look at, and facilitating it was even more so. 

Doing things for my so-called career has a certain way of making me want to drop to the floor, hold my knees close to my chest, and rock back and forth just until the feeling dissipates. But it never really does. If I'm lucky, it just turns into an altogether different kind of dread. It has become an inside joke among me and my friends--our imagined immediate reaction to anything that agonizes us. Rock back and forth, remove your earrings and put them back again, think of every single failure you've committed, think of yourself as a failure, try breathing exercises and give up five seconds in. Pretty much the reason why I'm like this.

I was scheduled for an interview today. I fell asleep while revising my resume last night so of course I had to cram everything hours before. It was like college all over again, except with an intensified sense of apprehension.

Thankfully I got up earlier than usual so Jett and I had the time to have breakfast at Monkey Grounds, which is this hip cafe reputed for its healthy meal choices--meaning food I don't normally eat.


This was my meal. I didn't even dare touch that bowl of greens.


And this was Jett's. I'll forever be envious of people who can drink coffee on an empty stomach.


So the interview went well, or at least I think it did. I wanted to withdraw my application halfway through it, though. I wanted to just pack up and leave, say sorry I don't think I can actually do this please hire that guy instead--but thankfully I didn't do that. I wore my only pair of heels for this, for fuck's sake. I'm not letting that bit of effort go to waste.

I was riddled with uncertainty afterward, but not about whether or not I'll be hired. It has more to do with this attemp to enter the corporate world fully knowing that I did not prepare myself (in many aspects) for this. I'm still trying to make sense of it, or at least comfort myself with the idea that by working in here, in Iloilo, I will be able to minimize my expenses, actually spend time with people I care about, et cetera. Still, this familiary is more exhausting than encouraging. I can only hope for the tables to turn soon enough.

For now, I'm choosing stay. The idea of moving out and setlling down in a new place has always been my kind of fantasy but no matter how far my grand ideations of independent living may wander, practicality and the bitter reality always pull me back into this godforsaken (but tolerable and occassionally lovable) place. I became tethered to its formidable significance (and very sadly so) since I started earning my own (meager, but my own) money and when Isza and I went around the city looking for apartments. Who knew a dingy apartment could cost so much!!!

I stopped asking my parents for allowance exactly since graduation day. It was an underwhelming event and that is an altogether different story, but let's just say it felt empty. It probably had to do with the tasteless venue. But at least, and this is my only consolation, I'm a graduate now. A graduate with a constantly dwindling money, that is.

I've been actively looking for a job since I realized my current monthly earning isn't even enough to cover my daily expenses (and the copious amount of coffee and other unnecessary stuff I buy out of habit and impulsiveness, mostly). Which sucks, because I actually enjoy my job since it mostly involves being in front of my laptop and working with really creative people. I've been in a cycle of post-interview panic and post-interview anxiety in the past few weeks. If anything, it made me realize how much I cower during formal, face-to-face interactions.

I'm currently waiting for a response from a company I actually would like to work for, but only on account of how it's going to help me with my long-term goal of starting a business. I'm staying for this and I hope I made the right choice, or at least the one that makes the most sense.

This is a blog post written as a form of distraction from the gnawing realization that college is going to end real soon and I have yet to formulate any concrete plan as to what I'm going to do or where I'm going to place myself.

I think there's too much going on and I've been sitting too still. Not completely oblivious, but not entirely conscious either. The recurring thoughts in my mind always point back to the glaring question of whether or not to move out of Iloilo. There is convenience here, and if I try hard enough, there's going to be financial security too. But it gets tiring being in the same place. I think I need a bit of a new landscape, and I'm thinking Manila or Cebu but really, I just want to be able to get out of the house and get a place of my own. Nothing motivates me more than the prospect of living away from here. It's not entirely bad at home but I think I'd be tremendously happier if I'm somewhere else. Somewhere else is still undecided and I hope I'm one day closer to figuring it out.