jobhunting temporarily on hold

Okay, so I just noticed that I haven't updated for a long time, and that is why I'm writing. I have nothing in mind to write about, so I'm just gonna let my fingers do the talking.

Tomorrow I get another chance at something that doesn't happen to most people. If you wanna know what I got myself into, check my multiply. (But then you'd have to be my friend first, so add me if you want to know. That's if I know you. Hahaha.) Anyway, so I get another chance at it. And I really hope I do better.

But then at some point, it kinda makes me feel sad too. I feel like, I'm taking bread from people who are really hungry. On some level, I don't like what I'm doing. But, at the same time, I feel like I deserve this, like I was born to do something like this. You know how some people just know they're born to do something great? Well, I think I found the great thing that I was born to do. It sounds shallow, I know. Even I am cringing at the very sentence that I just typed, but then, it just feels right.

I've always been a general information buff -- you know, I like knowing things. Regardless of whether its about history, geography, pop culture.. anything at all. I'm known to actually just randomly search Wikipedia about the things that pop into my mind. Finally, I have found something where this ability/hobby is useful.

I want more money. That's the selfish, materialistic me talking. But then if you also know me, you'd know that I won't only spend the money on me. I have bigger plans for it, you know. I just hope that I win tomorrow. That's it.

It doesn't feel like me.

It's days like this that make me realize how old I really am.

You see, deep down, I still feel like I'm 16; in that place where you're in between being a kid and a full fledged adult. At 16 I was the exact person I am today, except for that dash of cynicism I have acquired in college. At 16 I was the giggly, happy girl; active in everything, but still exuded that don't-mess-with-me aura that has become so me these past few years.

Yes, I have learned quite a lot of things in the past 5 years, but, despite everything that has happened, I still feel like I'm my 16 year old self. It may sound weird, but that's just how it feels.

And then a day like today would come, when I would see myself donning really business-y clothes, driving to work and waiting in line for the elevator. Today I went to Powerplant, to meet up with friends who are also wearing business clothes, and had coffee with them while smoking.

I had my car fixed, bought my family's dinner, prepared food for everyone here in the house. Heck, I even washed the dishes. I fixed my dad's clothes for his trip to Korea, I took note of the grocery items I needed to buy tomorrow.

It amazes me that I'm already 21, when in fact, I feel 5 years younger. Today, it felt like the 5 years went by like a blur; like I just woke up and suddenly I'm already this old. The things I do now all feel so grown-up, that I really feel like I'm just playing a role. It doesn't feel me.

On Jobhunting

I spent the last week jobhunting.

Apart from the usual bookmarking of pages in Jobstreet and JobsDB, Allan and I spent last Tuesday walking all over Ayala Ave., and Rockwell, going inside the nice looking buildings, looking like morons staring at the directories, trying to figure out which companies we wanted to apply to.

As expected, I didn't apply to a lot. I kinda figured early on that I wasn't for the corporate world. I printed out 11 resumes, and managed to only submit around 6. Let me see.. I think I submitted to Bloomberg, Ayala, Watson-Wyatt (just to spite Francis), HSBC... Okay, I don't remember the rest. Oh yeah, I also applied for a teaching position in CSA, but, the only opening they had was for a Chem teacher. Looks like that won't be happening anytime soon. I am really, really terrible at Chem. Seriously.

Today, I had an interview for the Daily Tribune (which I will turn down for so many reasons), tomorrow I have an interview for HSBC, and on Wednesday for IBM.

I can say so many things about how I hate waking up really early in the mornings, dressing up in business attire, walking everywhere in heels, waiting for my test/interview to actually start, and about how I hate having to boast about each and every skill I think I have, but I think I'm starting to enjoy it.

It makes me feel like a real grown-up. I may hate waking up early, having to borrow clothes from my sister, walking everywhere in heels, and talking about how I'm so much more than I really am, but in all honesty, walking along Ayala Ave looking like a real corporate person makes me feel better. Better because finally, I get to look good (after months of looking like a bum and being a bum), and I get to wear the clothes that I only dreamed of wearing when I was still a kid. Making the interviewers believe that I am more than I really am is also making me believe more in myself, that I can really do the things that I wrote in my resume really well.

I just hope I continue thinking this way. It looks like this jobhunting thing will go on for a couple of more weeks. That is, if I can stop thinking of the things I hate about each and every job offer I get.

Bye for now. :)

I hate that my friends are leaving.

To tell you the truth, I hate despedidas. Apart from it being mini-reunions (which I like, by the way), it makes the fact that people are leaving all the more obvious. For people like me who hate goodbyes, a despedida is torture; like prolonging the agony of actually saying goodbye.

Plus, it makes me realize how people have moved on and are actually doing something, and I am still left here, trying to make sense of my life.

It also makes me realize the things I could not do. Not that I want to leave, but you know... The thought of my being able to leave whenever I want to still gives me a sense of comfort. But sadly, living somewhere else, even for a short period of time is really not an option for me. That's something I could not do, regardless of whether I want to or not.

But anyway. Good luck to my friends who are JVP-ing, Charmie and Jodel. You guys are doing a very noble thing. Good luck to the both of you! :) See you guys next year!

Boracay Day 2 - Beachcomber bar
(While Charmie was trying to get all of us drunk. Hahaha. Sorry, I couldn't find a better picture. Ang sabog nito. Hahaha.)

Boracay Day 2 -- Some island we went to. :)

Marvin, Jolina and Bestfriends

I was going to write about a totally different thing, but something happened to make me want to write something else.

I was watching this late 90's Marvin-Jolina movie on Cinema One, while uploading pictures on my Multiply when suddenly, Budjoy (Jolina), said these lines:

Kaibigan mo ako. Kaibigan mo LANG ako.
I made the biggest mistake of falling in love with my best friend.

Ooops. That sounded too familiar to me.

No, I am not going to delve into ancient history. That part of my life is over. What I'm going to say is this -- bestfriends are bestfriends because they really are just that. Best friends. Regardless of what happens, whether a romantic relationship springs out of that, the friendship should always be there.

Anyway. This is a useless post. I'll post what I really meant to post later. :)

Remembering

Once again its that time of the year. I woke up at 2 in the afternoon vaguely remembering that today was mothers' day.

Oh yeah, mom, its your day today! But, because the Villegas household is motherless, there was no celebration today. In fact, I was home alone for most of the day, while "Happy mothers' day" messages were being sent to me. (As much as I'd like to think that those greetings being sent to me were due to people's insensitivity, it took too much effort to get riled up all about it, so I just let it pass. Hahaha.)

But I couldn't let the day pass without some sort of tribute. My mom may be gone physically, but it doesn't mean I don't love and don't remember her every single day.

So, here's for you, mama.

December 1986, at the Recto St., Villamor house

1989, wedding reception at the old Sheraton Hotel

1990 nursery graduation

1990, in the ship to Cebu

1998, Tita Adora's backyard in SanFo

2003, Singapore

2004, our last trip to Baguio together

You will forever be my best travel buddy. Even before I discovered my love for exploring different places and different scenes, you already brought me to the places I now want to go back to. Too bad there were no digicams back then, and too bad you weren't much of a camera person. I now realize that too many moments between the both of us were left uncaptured.

I'm scared that when I grow old, I might forget all the small things we shared. We had such a short time together -- just 18 years. And 7 out of those 18 years we had, you were sick. I want to remember all those years together; I want to still remember each and every detail about you, both the fun and the bad times.

I love you, Mom. I miss you everyday, and I'll miss you every single day until forever.


And here's for you, Yaya. Thank you for the 22 years of love and care. You are and will always be my second mother, and I love you for that. :)

The end of the movie drought. Yay!

Nevermind that I am unemployed and poor. I went out to watch What Happens in Vegas and Speed Racer last Wednesday and Thursday, and it left me very, very happy, because finally, nice movies are being shown.

What Happens in Vegas is the funniest movie I've watched in a long time. It wasn't really the must-watch type, but it made me laugh (which 27 Dresses and Over Her Dead Body tried but failed to do), and that was good enough for me. Plus, it wasn't overly cheesy, which is always a good thing for me. :)
Speed Racer was a whole different story. I grew up watching the cartoon, and watching it on the big screen made me feel like a little kid again. Watching him push the buttons on his Mach5 reminded me of how much I wanted to drive back then. (Hahaha. Cheesy much? But I was just disappointed that there wasn't much emphasis on the buttons! He didn't push the buttons enough! Hahah!)

The movie was a visual spectacle. It was like seeing real people in an anime cartoon. The editing was unique, in the sense that I haven't seen anything like it, and the colors were amazing and appropriate (and I want to have a house like theirs. Haha.) for the whole theme of the movie. The costumes were also great. Hahaha. I loooooved Racer X's clothes (Actually, I loved Racer X. Period. Haha.), and Speed's real life blue shirt, red hanky and white jacket. (Although, it did make him look gay beside Racer X and that Japanese racer whose name I'm forgetting right now.)

The story? Well, it was so-so. I mean, I couldn't understand half of what they were saying. It tended to be too technical for the normal person to understand, plus, it delivery was too fast for someone like me (who had below normal knowledge of racing and cars) to digest.

But then, I didn't really watch Speed Racer to marvel at the story. I watched it because I wanted to see how something I loved ten years ago would be on the big screen. In that sense, it didn't fail me. It still gave me the same sense of excitement I felt when I first watched it.

So there. I want to watch it again. This time, purely just to understand what really went on with the story. Hahaha.

Yes, I'm still thinking about you.

Forgive me, late nights spent alone do this to me. I may regret writing this right now, but heck, like I care. You won't know who its about anyway.

A couple of days ago I told a friend our story; or, more precisely, my story of what happened between the two of us. And yeah, since then, I couldn't take you off my mind. (I must be really bored, to just think of you randomly like that. Hahaha.)

I get that its over. I get that for you, I don't exist anymore. But you know what, I hate that I don't exist for you anymore. I am left thinking if I just imagined the whole damn thing, or if it really happened. But, for what it's worth, again, I'm sorry.

The reason why I'm still apologizing is because though you said you've already forgiven me, I still don't think I've fogiven myself. Or, the universe still hasn't forgiven me.

That's the thing about regrets. It's that nagging thought at the back of your head telling you that it's always your fault. When you regret, you go against yourself, and when you go against yourself, there's no one else that can save you but yourself too. That's what I hate about it.

starbucks, friendships and conversations

I'm thinking maybe the reason why I like going to Starbucks and to random coffee shops in general is because I like the conversations that go on over coffee.

It has been a long time since I've had a real Starbucks session -- a couple of hours of talk about the randomest of things, sticks of Dunhill Frost (or Marlboro menthol if funds are running low. haha.), and my usual iced grande caramel macchiato. I miss the people I go to Starbucks with -- Allan, Francis, Jodel, Bennett, Tady, Cha and Karla. I have come to love the place because I loved the people I went there with. (mushyneeeeessss. hahaha.)

But seriously. Starbucks really isn't the same without a good friend there, with whom you can talk about the most random of things. I miss conversations about lochness monsters and giant squids. I miss talking about politics, philosophy and theology, and how these things affect our lives now. I miss the gossip, and the usual dissing of Jodel's waley jokes and the pretend "I'm-gonna-read-my-handouts-here,-so-I'm-going-to-use-my-ipod-so-that-I-can-tune
-you-out" moments.

Perhaps I just miss having real conversations with people I like talking with. You know, the kind of talk wherein you just blurt stuff out and the other person won't take it against you or against anyone. The kind of conversation wherein everything just flows; no awkward pauses in between topics, when the both of you are thinking of what next to say or what topic to open up next.

Anyway, I don't know if I'm still making sense. I think I really just miss talking with my friends over coffee. Hahahaha. Guhhreaaat. (4 paragraphs summarized into one sentence! My writing skills are deteriorating by the minute!)

Bottom line -- Let's go out? Text me!

Letting Go

I just came from my first ever event as a Kythe alumna.

Okay. Can I just share how weird it felt everytime Bono would mention Jodel and I as the alumni. I felt old. Hahahaha.

Anyway, we were to speak of how Kythe has changed over the years, through three different sets of officers. Well, yeah. I mean, I had some things prepared. While driving all the way from Paranaque to Caloocan, I had some time to think about what to say. (How can I not, it was a really, really long drive. Hahaha. The farthest I've driven from home, actually.) You know, the generic stuff -- how much it has changed internally, the way things are handled in terms of systems, and how the priority has shifted from being an org that's out there (by that I mean an org that really strives to show itself to the whooooole world), to an org that's more focused on forming capable and responsible individuals.

Though technically, it's still the same people there; people I've known and worked with since last year, it felt different that I'm now an outsider peeping into the dynamics of this whole team. Different, but okay. If you get my drift.

I think, I've proven to myself that I've moved on. I no longer have the same kind of jealousy that I used to have, seeing them plan the year ahead, seeing them planning bonding sessions and outings. There is no more bitterness, and I can honestly say that I can be content with just being an outsider looking in.

Okay, crazy idea, but I'm thinking that maybe, throughout my four years in college, Kythe as an org kinda became like a boyfriend to me. (No, I am not just justifying the fact that I did not have a lovelife in college.) I mean, I loved it to bits, and I loved every part of it. There were things that weren't really appealing to me, but I accepted it all, because I loved it that much. I can honestly say that the most effort I've exerted is for a project, and not for school, because I've always wanted to make the relationship work; I wanted things to be great for the both of us.

And then we split up. (Obviously) There's someone else taking care of it now, and I really had a problem with that at first. I could not stomach the thought that someone else could take care of it better than I can.

But now, I'm okay. As I said, I think I've moved on, and I'm happy about it.

I guess, that's just really how it is when you love someone/something. Love means looking out for the growth of that person/thing, and its growth doesn't necessarily entail you being there. I still love Kythe and I think I always will, but I think its enough that I was part of its growth at some point. As I said to the new officers, it's their time to shine. I/we had our chance; now, it's theirs.

(Sorry, ang crazy and ang random ng mga sinulat ko. Haha. Cheesy pa. Hahaha.)

On Singing

Watching today's American Idol episode reminded me of how much I wanted to be a singer when I was younger.

It didn't take me long to realize that I (my body) wasn't made for dancing, that my artistic skills are actually bordering on mediocrity, the next person can act as well as I do, and basically, the only thing that distinguished me from everyone else was that makapal ang mukha ko.

After that string of realizations, I realized that maybe singing is the thing for me. Its something that I enjoy doing, and its something that people complimented me for. Though I knew that I wasn't that great of a singer, I KNEW how to sing. Then I started singing in school for real. I may not have been part of any choir, I was always the one assigned to sing during Flag Ceremonies and stuff. Songfests were my thing, and singing during music classes was nothing to me.

And then college came. I have to admit that the videoke was one of my bestfriends for all those four years. Eastwood trips would not be complete without at least half an hour of videoke, and singing got me through driving early mornings and late nights from Paranaque to Katipunan. And yeah, I'd sing videoke alone here in the house when I'm bored. Hahahaha.

Its just sad that I can actually feel my voice deteriorating over the years. Too much shouting during cheering competitions in high school and during Orsems in college and cigarette smoke have made singing very, very hard for me. When I say hard, I mean that my vocal range has diminished significantly, and I can no longer do falsetto, or sing from the diaphragm. I can now only sing with my speaking voice, which leaves my voice hoarse the next day each time I'd go to the videoke.

I regret not taking care of my voice, seriously. I hate that doing something I love needs a lot of effort doing. I hate the thought of my not being able to sing anymore.