The Lost Art of Patintero

It's strange how one simple, stupid, useless, drunken comment can undo two weeks' worth of happiness...

Now that I have finally thought about it - it's not really so strange. I guess there are moments when one straw can break the camel's back. It's just frustrating how everything can fall apart just like that. Maybe I've been so immersed in being happy that I forgot my own mantra: sometimes the sunlight can blind you. I was always careful about not being too happy because there's really no other way to go but be unhappy after that. But because I've resolved to let people in and live my life without the restrictions of my mantras and theories, the past few weeks have been an exercise in letting the new me out.

But the universe has once again decided to do its own exercise of its prerogative to balance itself out. It seems as if it has decreed that no one should have two straight weeks of happiness. And so the wee hours of Sunday morning happened. It's a pity that I made a promise to myself (one that I swore up and down I would never break) to forget my years of perfecting the art of studied indifference - just this once because maybe something good might come out of it and cried in public.

And something good did come out of it. I made some friends. I discovered that I can be a people person. I found out that I can be liked. That I might actually, actually survive in the corporate world with its rules and politics and time-keeping.

Looks like I've spoken too soon. But I'm not giving up. I'm not going back to my shell and hide there just because of some careless remark that probably wasn't even meant for me. The last two weeks have given me something I have never had before: a sense of purpose. Which is funny, when you think about it. Half the time, I was quivering with the thought that I might be doing a scrappy job and I expected everyone to hate me. But they didn't. Of course, now they might hate me.

I don't care about that. But I do care about the people I like - it doesn't even matter too much if they like me back or not. I cannot control how others feel about me. If they decide to change their minds (whether for the good or the bad) it doesn't matter that much.

It's like what happened before that Sunday dawn: grown people playing patintero just because they had nothing else to do. The time that we spent playing that children's game made me realize what I've always known and believed, but sometimes forget: happiness is not a state of mind; it's all about moments.

So I will learn from before that Sunday dawn, but I will treasure the patintero moment. I will keep it in my memories for as long as I can hold off Alzheimer's and go back to it and rehash it whenever a "before that Sunday dawn" happens.

In a way then, I am grateful for that. It was a mixed blessing. It made me realize that while nothing lasts forever, I should cherish the time that it was with me. Whether it be a person or a certain event, just be grateful that he or she was there or that it happened. Whatever thing that has marred it, treat it as if it was a certain necessary evil. The bitter always makes the sweet sweeter - or something like that.

And although they have no idea this blog exists, I want to thank the people who have inadvertently taught me the lost art of patintero - also called The Art of Letting Go.

Boring Me...

Whenever I'm in my ranting mood - which is every day - I always tell my friends (about the only people who can stand my ranting) that I'm in the wrong business. Customer service is all about being nice. And anyone can tell you that I'm not cut out to be nice and yet I'm here - in the business of being nice. Or so I thought. Some of the people I can't seem to vibe with are in this business. I don't know if it's just me or it's really them, but just for the sake of argument let's say it's them... does that mean I actually belong here?

Am I confusing you? Or am I sounding confused to you? No matter... whichever it is, I'm sure I can work it out and if I can't... does it really matter?

Pardon my haziness. I haven't taken any drugs to make me sound like this. I just sound like this before I do something I usually don't like to do - go to class. Which is fitting because I've never been a good student. I'm smart enough, intelligent enough, but I never seemed to care enough about going to school. I took it for granted. I could give you ten good reasons why I stopped being the achiever I was in elementary school, but it's just gonna bore you. The real dilemma is... I have class in 1.5 hours and I've been absent for three days now. I'm not hating it. It's just boring me.

Now I'm boring me...

Trying To Find Normal

One of the weirdest things I've discovered about myself the past few weeks is that I can actually become a workaholic. Isn't that scary? Everyone knows that I seem to have an unlimited supply of laziness in me. Now, I find myself worrying about work. I get up at the ungodly hour of 3 am to leave by 4, to travel to the other side of the world - also known as Alabang.

This is not me. But if it isn't, then who is this?

Some pretentious snob who's been parading in my body? Who'd want to be me?

Hmmm... Now there's a thought...

When It Rains... I Go Nuts

I've never thought of myself as an artist. I can't draw a stickman without it looking like someone tried to stop me from getting him on paper. I can write - but then again, so can anyone with a university education and minimum imagination...

But when I was growing up, everyone around me assumed that I was going to be a writer. I never thought past it until college when I found out that not only does being a writer make you penniless, it's not that easy. The thing is, I've been so used to being known among my friends as the writer, the "intellectual" that the mere thought of becoming a corporate lackey grates on my nerves.

Yet here I am - working for a call center and liking it. What would Semariga and her forest friends think? :) Well, she already thinks I'm a sell-out. Should I remind her that when we were freshmen she got involved in a cult (disguised as a legitimate religious organization)? That when she did join the "movement" she quit after everyone shared with her hoard of chocolates? That she worked for a call center before I did? That when she worked for an NGO in Baguio, she quit when they asked her to sign a contract because she didn't want to commit? That the reason she finally let herself "welcomed back to the fold" is because of this guy she was in love with after 3 hours of intense conversation?

Well, good for her. At least she's doing what she wants to. She said she has found her calling. Much more than I could say for myself. Which is funny: "I found my calling in a call center."

I used to think this was funny, too. You know, being lost. It seemed such an adventure back in college. I was proud of the fact that I had no goals and that for me the future meant the next day. Now, I'm not so sure. With my friend having a baby this November and all my friends from back home married... What's next for me? Am I not hardwired for the real world? Am I supposed to sail through it without being encumbered my responsibilities? Sounds like someone's dream life, but is it mine?