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?