Say what you want about the rain, like it being a melancholic symbol of sadness or a joyful shower of blessings from up high, for me it's the cause of my pain - at least for the past couple of days. Pain, not only because getting rained on had me shivering down to my boots and giving me the sniffles, but also because it's one heck of an inconvenience. Just when I thought I've made a hard-fought, psychological commitment to not be absent from work, this hits me. What's worse is I'm sure I'll get that angry unbelieving look from my boss again when I come back to the office. Oh boy.

On the other hand, this rain does seem fitting in a sick, cosmic kind of way. I do feel a bit disheartened, now that I had just found out that the hand I held so smoothly not so long ago had already been held by someone else. She's off the market, and the fight was over before I even had a chance. I guess it was for the better, though now I have to find some other way to keep myself going. Apparently, this dance was over ten prom nights ago. 

Here we are again for another edition of the "me, me, me" show. I was thinking of writing about stuff other than my own thoughts that was actually worth reading, unlike the 11-11-11 fiasco, but I came up with zilch. Nadah. So before I post another entry about sucky calendar dates, I've decided to go back to flinging my usual rants.

Last night marked our company's first solo Christmas party ever, and I have to say that despite the fact that I didn't win a single freakin' prize in the raffle, I still had a Glam-Slamming time at the event. Well, sort of. There was a second when I found myself surrounded by friends, reveling in a night filled with crappy good food and great music, with beautiful people dancing and prancing about, and yet I felt like I have never been more alone in my entire life. I realized I miss my old friends. I know that in life, friends tend to come and go, but my creepy current dance partner sort of sucks. He's a lazy, opportunistic sonofabitch that's just as screwed up as I am, (if not more screwed up than me) which is probably why we get along. He's also one of the biggest know-it-all's on the face of the planet. Sometimes I honestly just can't stand the guy. But still, that's more than I could say for some people.

I realize the fewer friends I've got, the fewer inside comments I can squeeze into this blog, so in time nobody will ever understand this piece of literary excrement that I'm shamelessly trying to shove down their pie-holes. That also means I'll have to start writing about stuff that's rated-PG, or things that everybody will appreciate. Oh boy. To be mundane is to sin.

As usual, I'm only making sense mostly to myself again. I think I'm falling under another depression spell, and I have to find a way to get around it or else. Maybe another dance? There! Another inside comment! And despite what you might think about the photo, I still hate Twilight.

"Her hands felt smooth as silk, and her eyes sparkled against the clear night sky. We danced, and it felt like magic. Not even the cold air could keep the warmth of her touch away. But as the song faded, so did my dreams." 

For the believers, today is a very significant day. Today is November 11, 2011, or more commonly seen as 11/11/11. Some believe that either something very good, or something very bad will happen on this day. Well, I'm anxious to see if anything will happen at all at 11:11 PM tonight since nothing out of the ordinary happened at 11:11 AM today.

The idea that today would be some sort of magical or mystical day basically came about due to the mathematical implications of the rare date. For instance:

Geeky cool, right? For what it's worth, I believe in making my own destiny. There may be some omnipotent and unseen force controlling our actions and decisions, but ultimately we make our own decisions, we are in control of our lives. Or at least everything that we can control, we do with impunity. Stuff beyond our control is up to The Big Guy. 

Bottom-line is this: There is no harm in believing in superstition as long we don't end up relying on it for major life-changing decisions. We make our own fate, and we owe it to ourselves to not let some random sequence of numbers tell us whether we are gonna be lucky or not. I don't really think there's anything special about these dates that line up in a weird and funny way, but did you notice that the number 11 appeared exactly eleven times in this post?

 

 

Guess who's back after more than five months of virtually inexcusable and painfully prolonged dormancy? Yes, this snowbird is ready to pick up his quill again and continue scribbling mental malevolence towards life, love, and anything that involves freaky little garden gnomes and low-budget Filipino movies.

As much as I would like to make up flimsy excuses for my extended absence, such as my computer belly-flopping on me, or my internet connection being severed due to a pitiful lack of funds in my Gringotts account,  I will choose not to. I won't even say that I was too busy or too lazy to write, no sir. Yeah, this soldier wasn't born to make excuses. I'm just that sort of straight-up guy.

I'll have to admit, a lot of my evil schemes and ill-conceived plots fell flat in those five grueling months of inactivity. I thought my dreams of ruling over the galaxy one day had finally gotten its much needed jump start when I got promoted to a pseudo-team leader position where I handled my own team for a while. Actually, I got promoted a number of times before that. I became a subject matter expert (Whoa! I know, right!?), providing floor support to the agents on the floor. Then I became a training intern, which basically allowed me to help not just the team I was assigned to, but everyone on the floor. I knew I've always had my heart set to training people and helping them develop their potential, but life threw me a curve ball and I was promoted yet again, this time as a team leader intern. 

While I enjoyed my stint as a coach, it simply was not meant to last. As I had mentioned in an earlier post, the account I was in back then folded, and I had to start from scratch all over again. At first I thought I could handle the stress of it all. I thought I got promoted once, I could do it again. It was a few weeks later when I realized that it felt like I had won the lottery, lost the money, and was trying to win the lottery all over again. It was a long and arduous climb back and I felt my work legs were already giving out. Then a funny thing happened, the new account that took us in folded too, with it's green box of fun for everyone shredded. I can still hear my inner bully's loud and meaningful guffaw.  

So now I am in my third account, desperately trying to explain to some old lady why her cable bill went up this month, and I find myself again at the foot of the proverbial pyramid of hierarchy staring up at my goals. But something's different. Somehow this time the goal seems so much higher and harder to reach. I am at the brink of giving up and I don't know how much longer I can hold on. To be honest, the strain's starting to affect my already deteriorating health.

I am currently on a sabbatical, for which I am very grateful for, because I am trying out some new medication for my hypertension. The doctor panicked the other day when she took my readings, and my blood pressure shot up to 200/120, the highest it has ever gone. But this respite isn't solely for medical reasons. I know I also have to prepare myself mentally. In the next 10 days or so, I need to find a way to motivate myself. Yup, that old story again.

In the years that I have served the masters I always seem to come to a point where I get tired of the redundancies of work, and to this day I have yet to find an answer to this lack of motivation. Maybe I need some sort of therapy or job counseling. Whatever.

Anyway, this is it for now. I will write again soon. For now, please forgive this poor attempt at reviving my non-existent writing career. I'll get better, I promise.