24 posts tagged “work”
During one of our living blog entry moments at the Secret Place, before it drizzled on the glass and steel jungle of the heartless city, Elizabeth and I heard the sound of fireworks. Though unseen from our corner of the sky, the string of joyful noises was a fitting, poetic cap to our 'anything goes' conversation on life, love, work, and people - the way a reprise binds an entire musical together.
She then asked, "Why do magical things happen around us?"
I haven't used the word magical a lot lately. In the workplace, magical is a relevant salary increase. In the streets, magical is an unexpected but welcome downpour of crisp one-hundred dollar bills. In love, magical is that elusive Disney movie ending.
Yet something as entrancing came to mind.
I answered, "You know how it is when stars form constellations? Those who discover them prove them, name them, and have them certified. Then the discovery becomes a cause for celebration."
Silence. Smiles.
"We are stars," I continued.
"Yes, we are."
With Nica as we take the Sharpay-Ryan route.
My office team spent a weekend at Ascott to strategize for the year. Of course, talking about work is like raving about the technological breakthrough that is the Betamax player, so I'd rather share a series of snapshots taken poolside in between action planning and sleeping.
Vox is running from my office PC!
*dance of joy*
My ‘right now’ emphasizes even more the reality I am bound to live out. I've dreamed thousands of dreams and have been deeply infatuated with visualizations of my planned future, but who and where I am anchors me particularly to whom and where I should be. It means blooming where I am planted. It means making the most out of every working, loving, living day. It means stretching my will to a point of positive discomfort - akin to discovering pleasure in pain.
This translates to waking up two, three hours before login so I could accommodate my leisurely pace from the bed to the shower. It means sleeping and waking up in a room all decked in pink and suffocating from frou-frou because my father now has his roots firmly planted on my bedroom while I was gone. It is the harsh commute from the southern suburbs to the city, with iPod on full blast if only to drown highway noise. It is convincing yourself that belch is a Tom Ford fragrance.
It is about receiving Failure to Login notifications even if you know for a fact that you logged in that day. It is the slow computer that greets you with one megabyte emails. Emails that could have been lighter had everyone known that PowerPoint slides can be saved as jpeg. It is the classroom that has been promised a mounted projector, given one, and deprived of only after two blissful months. It is the perennial courtship with Helpdesk that always starts with one student forgetting his own password, the same password that he’s been using for the past thirty days, causing his account to be locked. It is the courtship that repeats itself at least twice a day everyday for five weeks. It is the volleying of opinions and suggestions with your counterpart halfway ‘round the world with the ball hardly landing on either side of the court. It is your amateur take on Excel and how standard deviations and bell curves can save the world. It is the tiring search for the perfect quality photocopy paper that puts me at par with wolves eager for dinner. It is about getting your way with the utility boys because you have perfect quality photocopy paper and the rest don't. It is about obsessing over security verification and analyzing how billing zip is different from expandable billing zip. It is about finding a meeting later that they're the same after all. It is about learning a new skill today and gawking about it like a crazy fan to a smorgasbord of disgruntled non-believers, indifferent passersby, and engaged partakers tomorrow. It is rejoicing over one, even just one soul who thinks that the class was great and that they're eager to put their newly-acquired skill to use.
It is the never-ending quest for the perfect threads to throw on for my bi-weekly hosting gig. It is blurting risqué one-liners to spruce up the show and realizing at the end of the show that ‘Yeah that was nice.’ It is the silent understanding between my co-hosts and I and the onstage relationship that real-life romances and friendships ought to learn from. It is about virtual self-pats on the back or smiles from random people inside the office for becoming a celebrity in your own right. It is about indulging in the limelight because the stage is yours.
It is about those moments that you just want to cry and give up but realize that you love what you do and have six bills to pay all in the same pay period. It is about those times within the day that you just want to be in New York folding shirts at the Gap or sorting Havaianas at Urban Outfitters but find yourself erasing the writings on the board to give way for the next class (and for you to wear a dozen more professional hats). It is about hearing from those who matter that you are doing a good job even if your personal standards say that you could do better. It is about not hearing anything from those who matter because they want to motivate you another way. It is about a concept called work-life balance that you mistook for a complicated gymnastic routine until someone told you it’s for everyone to perform.
It is being happy deep inside, illuminating with love, and smiling despite usual and unusual professional pressures, cinematic psychodramas, and loose ends that make the ideal handbag tassel. It is finding solace and being okay because the one you love is okay. It means being content and not seeking for anything grander because you know things are going to get grand anyway. It is seeing the glass as half-full and excitedly waiting for it to be filled to the brim. It is about enduring growth spurts yet not losing your heart and soul in the process. It is about transcending and becoming a better version of yourself everyday. It is accepting with serenity and grace that you are in the here and now because this is the right place and the right time.
This is reality. This is life. This is beautiful.
Foreground: TM Sandy; L-R: AT Jai, LT Russel, ST Owen, QAA Mel, TS Mitchy, TS Willibog, TS Win (Edwin for short), TS Raymond, and T Ces.
I am back in Manila, after my 30-day training stint in Cebu. Let's do a review of my southern shindig.
The Airport - Nothing could be worse than the Manila Domestic Airport. Man, our garage looks much better. It's a shame how it hasn't changed ever since my very first airplane ride some 21 years ago. The only things they probably change on a regular basis are the flourescent lamps that conk out every 30 days (the government sure knows how to allocate funds). Oh, and there's a newly-built smoking area outside the concourse BUT there are no built-in lighters in that lounge. Bad!
The Ride To The Hotel - To rid myself of the clueless tourist complex, I relied on my best memory of the route from the Mactan International Airport to Cebu City. I recalled, as much as I could, the bridges and avenues that will take me to Sophia Suites. Good thing too that I understand Cebuano and managed to grapple a few phrases to the driver. The private car service charged $7 from the airport to the hotel. Not bad at all since the car was brand new and did not smell.
The Hotel - Sophia Suites has always been temporary dwelling to most Trainers and Managers who fly in from Manila. It was my first time though to stay there. (I bunked with Russel in Summerfield Suites some 4 years ago.) Cool place. It's a residence hotel so the look and feel reminds you of home, and not some hospital repainted to look like a posh place to stay. I stayed in unit 303 together with Cecile (who hogged the master's bedroom) for a good four weeks. Our roomies and freeloading friends would change every week.
The AC was on full blast everyday and I'd smoke everywhere except the rooms. Cutlery was expensive and flatware was all Corelle (did I spell that right?). There was a laundry nook on the 2nd floor behind the front desk where most of us would catch up on work while waiting for our clothes to dry up. The hotel was right behind an old mall so groceries weren't much of a hassle. The commute to the office was fabulous. Cab rides would cost less than a dollar - if you don't make the cabbie wait.
The only thing I did not like about the hotel was the effing elevator that sentenced me to ten minutes of sheer agony. But yes, my elevator buddies and I still had the gall to camwhore. I took this picture (check out the worried look on my face):
The Office - As in our Manila locations, the interiors look nauseatingly the same. Some sort of reminder that I came there for work first and leisure second. The perimeter of the office building is filled with restaurants and bars that serve beer round the clock. I wouldn't be surprised if an agent would report to work buzzed one of these days. And there's a nice club right on one side of the building called The Loft where I became an instant VIP - but that's another story.
Here's an after-work-arte shot:
This credo was delivered during the closing ceremonies of the PSU Graduation. Goosebump moment. I am so proud to be a Trainer!
I am a Trainer
I come from the School of Rock
I hail from a constellation of achievers
I belong to a bastion of excellence
I am committed to preserve my lineage
I am sworn to protect my heritage
I am proud of who I am and what I do
I am a High-Performing Professional
I am a living emblem of my Alma Mater
I am a Trainer
I am a Rock Star
I am a Champion
I am proud to be PSU
I rock
UNIVERSITAS ROBUSTUS
Arrival in Subic. Some lunch(ette) we had.
Trainers = Camwhores
Post-lunch leading to the beach.
Love it when it rains.
The brains behind the event and the team where the brains belong.
Photo op!!!
Till dawn we drank and danced.
Above and beyond the glitter we radiate, we are but satellites that feed on the light of one sun.
We are grateful for our light’s source.
Thank you so much, PSU. We will shine for you for a long, long time.
