I decided to blog again (even though I have been inconsistent), but this time I want to do it lying down. As in, literally lying down. I found out that there’s a WordPress app for the Blackberry, and since I’ve been using this piece of shit phone for two years now, I have mastered the art of typing really fast without even looking at the screen. Right now, I’m lying in bed, reading Craig Thompson’s Carnet de Voyage for the first time. It’s fascinating and it’s making me want to leave this bed.
Last year, out on a whim, I decided to quit my job and spend some time in Sagada. I wanted to write something, but I ended up smoking pot and slinging hash for five days. It was my first time travelling alone, and admittedly, I wouldn’t even consider it travelling since I just basically holed up in my room and did nothing.
Two weeks ago, I decided to stop coming to work because of reasons. Much akin to my job situation last year, I just snapped and decided that this isn’t something that I want to do. I wasn’t very happy teaching American college students that their grammar is horrible. I wasn’t happy sitting alone at midnight because people at the office during the day are too noisy for me to concentrate. But then again, I’m a generally unhappy person. I’ve spent more time unemployed than being employed.
Plus my track record is really fucking horrible. Last three jobs I’ve had? I left them all without notice. Poof! Gone in three paychecks. I don’t know, man, I just don’t feel comfortable working for Americans, right now. Like, they have to gain something from my knowledge? Fuck that, man. Sure, the pay is great, but if I see another comma splice, I am going to slice a cunt’s throat.
This is why I decided that my next job wouldn’t be a fucking BPO, or a call center, or anything that would require me to teach someone the proper use of a semicolon. Judging by the depressing job listings online, it’s more of a dream than a reality. To be honest, I don’t want a job. However, I don’t want to be a burden to my family, too. There’s that HBO’s Girls dilemma that seems to infect more than half of my generation. A generation.
My girlfriend (Surprise! I have a girlfriend now) wants to start a business, and I, along with a few of our good friends are trying to help her. I’m eager to participate because she’s my girlfirend and I truly believe that we both can find true happiness in this venture. Not that we’re unhappy. We’re very happy, I can assure you that. (Thus, this blog’s name is a big fat lie. And you can’t relate.)
[A sidenote from this narrative: I am really enjoying typing shit on my Blackberry. Why the fuck haven't I thought of this before?!]
Aside from my job woes, I’m pretty much dandy, man. The Strangeness was in a successful Cinemalaya entry. Don’t Bogart the Can, Man! will start recording in a few weeks. Both bands are getting good buzz. I’ve been writing pop culture bull for The Philippine Star Supreme (which comes out every Saturday). And I’m surrounded by awesome people. As opposed to last year, this year is tha bomb.
I just really wish that I could find a job that I love. I’m not looking for a job that pays well. Heck, I’m not even looking for a “decent” job anymore. All I want to do is fucking write about my interests and see it get published for the people to consume. So, yes. I want to write for a magazine, and I am going to do it.
No more shitty dead-end jobs. No more BPOs that put comics in my shelves and absolutely nothing in my brain. I am done with that shit, motherfucker. I want to write and I am going to do it.