Covert Pen and Ink

Even though my feet are trembling
And every word I say comes tumbling
I will bare it all
Watch me unfold
-Marié Digby, “Unfold”

I’m getting hooked to Marié Digby lately. I wasn’t honestly that impressed with her version of Rihanna’s “Umbrella.” What got me interested in this Japanese-Irish musician is her original song “Fool.” I experimented with her other original compositions and fancied “Say It Again” and “Unfold” in the process. Her songs are simple and fall under the easy-listening genre. After all, I need simplicity to clear away the clutter in my life.

Anyway, my internship has finally come to an end. 200 hours of not only hard work but also engagement in office politics and assholes of coworkers. Not most of them, mind you, just two quite insignificant people who consider me more of an extra employee than a coworker.

Well I’m not here to bitch about simpletons. They simply aren’t worth my time and finger-effort. Although a small chunk of those 200 hours are wasted on the Internet, Yahoo! Messenger and basically doing nothing, the remaining hours were spent productively and meaningfully. I’m a Journalism student, and I’m damn glad I got to use my skills in writing for my on-the-job training. I got to write web content, Chinese fortunes and promo content. Easiest and most tedious of those writing jobs are those bloody English reviewers for a confidential project, so I’ll say no more regarding that.

Other than writing, I was also assigned no-sweat and practical tasks like going to the mailhouse to have cheques delivered and answering calls from (idiotic) callers. Once again, not all of them, mind you. Some are polite, some are graciously clueless while a handful are born without brains. There was this geezer who was bugging for his iPod Touch just after texting the promo code. As if iPods grow on trees. Then there were quite a few morons who used the hotline as an emotional barf bag, whining about why they can’t seem to win after texting a dozen codes and wasting pesos of load.

If only there was a cure for stupidity… But at least the consolation is knowing there are people stupider than you. “Go on and bitch about your sorry luck. At least I’m smart, and you’re not.”

Tasks aside, I’m also damn thankful my officemate, not counting those two whom I mentioned earlier, are very nice party people. My boss is down-to-earth and sociable. She even eats lunch with us at the back once in a while. She wears a smile on her face that you can’t seem to wipe off. I’s the kind of workplace that doesn’t have the austere office vibe. I can just grab coffee whenever I want. The representatives from this government agency even bring pastries and chips! They’re the type you can mingle with like having footlongs by the sides.

I’ll miss my internship. It was such a learning experience. It broke my notion of the office being a stadium of ass-sucking and stepping on each other’s heads. I’ve learned the value of patience and obedience, the strict methods of following orders and standing your guard. And as my mentor Winroen has always warned me, watch out for officemates harboring jealousy and insecurity. Those two are a good example.

You don’t have to kiss ass. You have to SUCK ass. And I took that literally.

I’ll prove you wrong one of these days, Amarent. Wait for it.

But when you do well
The true intentions of your secret smile
I couldn’t stop
I couldn’t tell you no
I hate to say I’m giving into you
-Marié Digby, “Fool”

Another monotonous day here at the workplace. Now no wonder many office workers fall into social apathy or at a certain extent, depression. Their lives are bound to an empty routine. You wake up, take a bath, commute to work then do a treadmill of copying and filing. The excitement only comes on payday.

But I decide my life, not the workplace nor society. If I want excitement in my life, I’ll be the one to put it in. Although of course there are times when I give in, when I succumb to society’s weakness. Many times I feel empty and that my work is unproductive and has no direction. All I do is edit tasteless English reviewers.

Okay Amarent. If you happen to read this, if you happen to know who I truly am, I’m taking back what I said. Now that I’ve experienced office life, I finally agree with you that being a student is much more fun an daring. At least every half a year is a whole new adventure if you’re a student. New classes, new classmates, new professors, new schedules, new worlds… The taste changes hence my tongue for adventure never becomes numb.

I’m glad I finally discovered the 7 Reasons the 21st Century is Making You Miserable. According to the extraordinarily witty writer, corporate employees do tasks that don’t yield material nor corporeal results which adds up their feeling of emptiness or worthlessness. Now that I’m editing unrelenting pages of reviewers, I feel what I do is hardly fruitful. If only I was four years younger, I’d be complaining like a corrupted mp3 file, yelling phrases like, “What’s the point of all this? What good is this gonna do? I’d rather flush wazoo down the toilet!” But now that I’ll be twenty years old in a month’s time, I’m now the mature adult who would rather do what she’s assigned. After all whining won’t help, only worsen.

Amarent, that friend I mentioned, is a typical guy working from 8am to 5pm, his workplace being a 5×5 meter cubicle. Everyday he goes to work, every week he gets his paycheck, every time the same… He tells me that most of the time he feels empty. He tells of his happy college life wherein he was the subject of popularity. But now he realized that you can’t always have what you want, and that you can’t always be on top. I added that the bad thing about being on top is there’s no other way but down.

As related to the number 7, I’ve read from The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens by Sean Covey that you should begin with the end in mind. Think of the objective but stay in the moment. I’ve applied that principle and it does seem to work. My next training now is to make it a habit. So it’s back to those bloody English reviewers then! At least they’re no longer, “Elementary, dear Watson.” Nouns, pronouns, adjectives, adverbs, conjunctions, et cetera.

Oh, and Amarent. I’m glad that I was able to grant you unpredictably happy moments that became such wonderful memories for you and I. One day you’ll be the rookie next to me.

The beautiful part of writing is that you don’t have to get it right the first time, unlike, say, a brain surgeon.
-Robert Cromier

Probably one of the most redundant activities is writing about…writing.

That’s right. I’m currently working on the content of a website regarding a top-secret project. It’s objective writing meaning I only have to be simple and direct yet I have this tendency to slack off and flutter around every few minutes.

I guess it’s just my nature. I sometimes find it difficult to focus on a certain project. Editing reviewers depleted most of my brain cells. Repetitive work can kill one mentally. No wonder many office workers fall into depression. They’re bound to a routine-oriented lifestyle. I won’t bother to climb the corporate ladder if it’s the same steps and handle over and over again. Hell it’s not even a ladder. It’s a steep hill.

Maybe writing also comes with the mood. I’m gravitated more to Mozilla Firefox than Microsoft Word once I turn the PC on. I surf the Net for a good hour then resume to my reviewers. Then once the toxic of repetition inflicts me, I’ll immediately open the PowerPoint file and write away on the web content basing it on the former.

Additionally sugar high also plays a factor. There’s almost always a generous supply of cookies and biscuits here. It’s like an eat-all-you-can buffet. I feel like a stack of bricks in the morning. After the cookie feast, my energy levels surge dramatically and I become a semi-uncontrollable working machine.

Oh well. Better get back to “actual” writing.

A new job, no matter how dynamic it is, will eventually feel like any other job.

But at least being an intern here at *Gadgettes is still new and dynamic. After all this is my first experience working in an office. And hey, it’s not as hazardous as my mentor Winroen had described it. My coworkers seem nice and sociable and the male ones aren’t as sex-crazed as I imagined.

Back then when someone mentioned the word “office,” I imagined a monochromatic maze that can be navigated by toddlers, people in tight suits trying to look dignified but are actually thinking, “Shit, I’m broke! How am I gonna suck up to the boss?”. Plus I don’t wanna sport that insignificant cloth-collar called a necktie.

Turns out I can walk into the office wearing skinny jeans and Chuck Taylors without getting second glances. I can “clock in” anytime (although there’s no clocking in here) and even slack off at work, like right now when I’m supposed to be editing English reviewers than writing a blog entry which will unlikely be read.

Not that I’m paid to do absolutely nothing. Of course I’m the lively young cadet itching to do “real-life” work. In fact I’m treated more like an employee than a doormat intern whose task is to answer phone calls from stubborn clients and making coffee. I’m glad my boss trusts me to handle big tasks such as making the PowerPoint Presentation for a major company. She’ll even be hitching me on the ride!

The environment doesn’t seem like the airy corporate setting too. My officemates can fool around with each other and share menial jokes. I can even walk around and grab cookies and cupcakes anytime! Coffee is free too and and there are occasional pizza parties to boot.

Ultimately my boss is very, very nice. She has this aura of niceness as if whatever you say or do feels like charity. She’s not the condescending type of boss like Meryl Streep’s character in The Devil Wears Prada. She considers us as teammates rather than pawns that can be subjected to toilet-cleaning.

I guess that’s as much as I can write for now. My internship is 200 hours. I’ve completed only 54. I’m only a quarter through.

*Company name changed

*Written early March 2008″

No matter how much or how long you prepare yourself, breaking up is so hellish to do.

Nalilito ako
Nais kong sagipin ang ating
Nalulunod na pag-ibig
Ngunit handa akong
Palayain ka
-Paramita, “Hiling” [Tala]

I’m confused
I wish to save
Our drowning love
Yet I’m prepared
To set you free

I’ve been so cold the past week, so cold that I almost never felt my own heartbeat. I’ve been losing love for my boyfriend of two years. His name is Cort. It was a week before our second anniversary. I would have been excited had not for this growing apathy. I try to imagine how we’d celebrate it but all that fill my mind are clouds. I try to remember his touches; the first time he embraced me to keep me warm, the first time he carried me, the first time he kissed me by the steeples… Yet it all felt like a faraway memory, like a mist I can never hold.

Maybe I was just falling out of love. Maybe my heart was filled with more emptiness because of his absence. Then I had an epiphany. I realized that it’s probably time to end it. A relationship without communication and passion is useless. Never mind that he was my first boyfriend who treated me like a queen. Never mind that he’s the first man I’ve made love with and I to him. Never mind that we had a long-term relationship of two years.

My phone rang. It was Cort. I let it sit for a few seconds before answering it. The unreadiness suddenly caught me. Then with trembling hands I answered it and heard his wavering voice. He asked how I was doing. He said that the past days he never heard from me were inner torture to him. He said he couldn’t sleep for two days straight without hearing my voice. He felt lost without me.

I was supposed to be harboring the opposite yet the hourglass was suddenly turned. My emotions deluged. “Let’s end this,” I told him in my erratic tone. “I’m growing cold. I no longer want an empty relationship.”

My inner self then began a sudden internal dialogue. It felt like two personalities in one body holding a judicial trial against one another. Both personalities were in all aspects the same.

Why am I feeling broken? I wanted this for a long while now.

I thought of breaking up without fear or favor. Why am I suddenly falling apart?

I’ve taken a week to harden myself. Why am I being taken over by grief?

“Let’s end this,” I repeated, this time not only throat hurt but my eyes began to sting too. I unknowingly felt them water. “I don’t want this anymore,” The tears then turned into rivers. “I’m tired of loving you already,” and with that I completely succumbed.

Silence was the only response from him at first. My sentiments were the same. Nothing. It felt like half an eternity until I heard Cort’s voice. He didn’t sound normal.

“Alouette, why? We’re just about to celebrate our second anniversary. Why now on the night before?”

I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t bear to tell him that I chose the exact date of our anniversary for this divergence making it two exact revolutions. It just so happened he called a night ahead. I couldn’t bear to tell him that I felt like I’d thrown away two years for a love without direction.

“Please don’t give up on us. Don’t give up on me. Please…”

He pleaded. I could sense him setting aside his masculinity just to let me stay. I felt powerless. I felt like whatever I could say would worsen this. I didn’t know if I should tighten this knot or cut it for good. All I could do was cry.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m sorry I neglected you. I’m sorry I’d rather load my account in Perfect World than my cellphone to text you. I’m sorry I left you alone. Please don’t leave me. I love you Alouette. You know that.”

I felt the hourglass turning again, the sudden stream of the sands that changed my emotions. I felt the apathy diminish. I felt myself being overwhelmed with childlike emotions. Suddenly I refuse to let go. I held my phone closer to my ear and cried away once more.

“You crazy bitch…” he whispered. “I was even hoping I’d hear an anniversary greeting from you. Instead I’ll hear you wanting to break up.” His voice was composed once more. “Your final exams are nearing, right? For now I’ll just wish you luck…”

And with that I pressed the reject button on my Sony Ericsson phone.

Nanlalamig na ba ang pag-ibig mo?
Is your love growing cold?

There I sat at the back of my church at my usual spot. There I cried alone, not caring whether the passers-by could see or hear me snuffling. I leaned my forehead on my knees and cried away like a lost child. I held my phone close to my heart, vaguely waiting for it to ring again and see Cort’s name on the screen.

Then it came, the realization. Cort may not have been with me physically but emotionally, he was there all the way. Whenever I had breakdowns and unrelenting tears, he’d let me cry to him and he won’t hold back. He’ll just remain silent and let me cry away for as long as I want.

The hourglass turned again. This time it deluged the fine sands of guilt. I was reminded of Cort’s love and support for the past two years. Why should I leave him? He never left me. He may not have always been with me physically but his emotional presence far outweighed his physical absence. Breaking up with him was such a selfish and impulsive thought.

With a deep breath I called him again. In less than a moment he answered. He seemed calm and composed now. “I’m sorry, Cort.” I said, I found my self stiffling a tearful chuckle. “I’m so sorry I scared you. I thought about how you were always there for me. I thought, hey! Cort never abandoned me. Why should I do the same? I’m not breaking up with you now. You’re worth more than any guy I’ve known.”

I heard him make a light chuckle too. “Thank you, Alouette. But I’m still gonna get even with you for scaring me like hell.”

“I’d be delighted…”

We just laughed and teased each other unreasonably. We were so glad that we’ve settled another misunderstanding. For the past two years, Cort and I never had a long-term argument. Never were there times when we were already yelling and ignoring each other.

“I love you Cort.”

“I love you too Alouette.”

It’s not easy doing an investigative report on something you have little or no relation to: Call centers and outsourcing.

It’s my partner’s choice though. After all she’s the struggling call center agent part-student. She seemed really driven to do the report single-handedly, maybe even dreaming of having it published by leading broadsheets or at the Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism at the very least. Prolly she’s affected by the injustices of the call center industry. After all every journalists’ creed is to fight for the truth, kinda like the exact opposite of lawyers.

Here I am reading the 25-page report on one seating. If I am to choose a topic, I’d go for something distance-friendly and less macro. The UAAP is far too big a responsibility. Another thing is I’m not a sports fanatic although I watch NBA with my cousin once in a while. Two classmates are tackling the anomalies of the College of International Hospitality and Management.

Maybe I could provide an in-depth research of online gaming but Reader’s Digest already did it.

I guess I just ought to be assigned. For now I’ll stick to feature writing.

Now I find myself in question
They point the finger at me again
Guilty by association
You point the finger at me again
-Linkin Park, “Runaway” [Hybrid Theory]

In just a span of six months I’ve packed up and run away from two homes already. I admit I’m sometimes rough around the edges but I can strongly point out that it’s the people I live with that’s the problem, not me. Maybe I’m just born to be a controversial and trouble-personified person. I got into trouble at least once a year during my preschool, elementary and high school days.

The first escape happened halfway through October 2007. I got into a rut just because I simply didn’t mind (which is different from ignore or snob) my senile grandmother. She reacted that I was someone na walang modo or someone full of herself. I replied with a mere, “If you want my attention, just ask. I’ll give it to you,” and all hell broke loose.

The second one was only a mere two weeks ago. Not easy living with a family that reminisces a savage African tribe. I practically got gangbanged three-to-one, two of which are underage, the remaining being my aunt. Good thing I retained my presence of mind and didn’t harm my two cousins. I could’ve been charged of child abuse. The case ended up at the Baranggay Hall where I filed a complaint. During the hearing, my monkey of an aunt seemed half-apologetic which encouraged me to withdraw the complaint. I partly regret doing so but at least their entire family is now indebted to me, which is far more profitable. Now they act like the devil’s at their backs whenever I’m around them.

Tomorrow I’ll be moving out to an all-girl dormitory managed by a Catholic institution. I don’t consider it an inconvenience nor an adversity. I consider it a whole new adventure, a long-term urban camping trip. At least there I’ll experience cooperating with strangers thus forming a bond of sisterhood. I’ll create not only comraderie but also friendship.

Nothing can shake or break me. Nothing is impossible.

Mi nombre es Alouette Aragonez.

I am a struggling covert writer who wishes to express her desires but not herself. The world is a place not worthy of trust in certain branches. This is my belief. I may not be consumed by the concept of a “big, scary world” though it’s not my idea of a fairytale fantasy land either.

In truth, Alouette Aragonez is merely a pseudonym. My real name of course will remain a secret. I’m hiding behind the Greek translation of “goddess” for I’d like to let my spirit flow without spilling too much of a deluge.

I may sound like a clandestine individual here but in reality I’m still a college student, a year shy from graduation. I’ll get there. One of these days.