The Badly Written Sitcom

     I never expected I’d be privy to teachers’ faculty room discussions. If you think kids tend to get ruthless towards their fellow students, you would be utterly shocked with the way teachers talk about their less-than-bright students behind closed doors. They rag on the stupid kids, the dorky kids, and not-so-fashionable kids, everyone! I love it!!!

     It’s nice to see things form their perspective… nice knowing that they’re human too. As a kid, I often thought of teachers as stalwart, flawless figures of authority. As a teenager, I saw them as merely impediments to my endless fun having. Now, as a soon to be professor, I like the fact that I can look at them as people.

    Really old people.

     I love my job… I love my job… I love my job… I love my… jobs actually… I love my jobs… unless of course, they don’t pay me. Holy shit.

    I took a job here in the reltively northern part of my world and I, in a nice unexpected sort of way, had fun. Seriously. This has to be the best first couple of weeks on a new job that I’ve had. Ever. I’ve met people who I actually like working with… not that everyone I’ve worked with before were the epitome of evil (not all of them at least…) but with this one it was completely natural. Like I usually bitch about before, everyting that’s truly worth something is given freely, and if you have to fight for something, it isn’t truly yours. That’s how things are with this company.

    But, the time has come for me to part ways with this company, with these people. Teaching beckons. And I know this contradicts my earlier statement about not working for something, then here I am making this huge sacrifice for something I insist on loving… but I am getting older. I feel it in my bones… the hair is thinning,… the illnesses are piling up… a schedule needs to be followed… I’d like to ensure that the rest of my life is lived out exactly in a way I want.  So I say goodbye…  painfully so.

    Of course, fate has a way of balancing things out, sticking it to me like only it can. Apparently, everybody thought my resignation was immediate,  so guess who didn’t get paid today? Guess who is on the brink of utter and complete poverty and then gets informed that the almighty paycheck gets delayed in two weeks? Shit sandwich, I knew god had a sense of humor… but didn’t expect it was at this caliber.

    Then again I should have, considering all the freaks I’ve met over the years.

    So I’m southbound, broke, and doing a job that will pay me eventually. Oh yeah.

    The first few rainshowers of the year have come, signaling the end of another summer season. Summers have always been special to me and the major players of my show. There was Resty’s marriage, the fireworks that burned his leg, film school, drinking on a raft in the middle of the ocean, the tops of mountains, the movies made and unfinished, the friendships made and destroyed, and now, everyone’s journey home. 

    Given enough room to work in, destiny often works wonders. Two years ago, I graduated college, and I know this is getting repetitive, but the moment I stepped out of that damned college I died slowly. Painfully. I went from job to job with a level of apathy that was, even for my standards, shocking. I was just dead. The past two months, slowly life was getting breathed back into me.  Ending the most recent relationship, going back down south and the propect of teaching have gone a long way reversing the effects of the "real world". I’m not completely back yet, but I’m getting there.

     I walked in the rain for a bit… and I knew the past two years are going the be washed away soon.

     In a simple twist of fate, I chanced upon Lloyd Atienza last night, on the long bus ride home. Lloyd Atienza, 25 years old, still lives with his ideals intact. His thoughts on the purity of true love is still there, that life, that people, still function with an innate goodness.

    Lloyd Atienza, who spent his first paycheck buying himself a PS2. Like Carlo and Resty, like all of us. The only thing that would make his life more perfect would be a PS3. Like all of us.

    The past few weeks I’ve been bitching to Carlo and B about the crappier than crappy situation regarding housemates and relatives, and Lloyd and the rain reminded me about what’s really important.

     I have gone through everything and survived I did it for the most part alone. I’ve had help from a few special people along the way, and for that I am thankful, but basic development over the years have dictated I go through life alone. That I will do.

     I have the rain, the summers, and the ideals that keep guys like Lloyd Atienza happy. I think I’m good. It’s good to live again.   

     Before the first day of my new job, I planned to get my  breakfast at Dunkin Donuts in Baclaran. Everyone’s seen that place… it’s the shithole of all shitholes near the church. Though I’d rather get shot than take a dump in the place, it still holds a significant spot in my heart. Many a saturday night binge started and ended in that spot. It was my usual spot, THE usual spot.

     I don’t know if it was closed for just renovation or they completely  condemned the damned thing, but it makes one think.

    In a month or so,the people I share a rundown house with are leaving and I’m going to have to move permanently in the south (I’ll rant about that later.). And again, another one of my special places, my room, are about to be closed down. My room, despite the lack of amintenance, is a rather storied venue not just for me but for my friends. Years upon years of parties, laughter, and well… stuff.

    A couple of weekends back, I met up with friends of mine that I haven’t seen in months. We had one of those rare conversations, the kind that they actually wanted to talk about me, and they asked me why the lateast relationship turned up to be another dud. After explaining the gory details… they gave me a few theories about why all my so-called relationships fail. Most predominant of which would be that my "standards are too high".

     I bear no ill will to that assumption. They’re entitled to that, but I do know that that just isn’t the case. Back in the olden days, people slayed dragons for the ones that they love, they faithfully wait for years upon years to be together, lived for each other, died for each other, conquered all for each other. These days, everything is fast, easily subsituted, and like a lot of things in the worldtoday, artificial. The way I see it, m standards aren’t high, it’s the world’s standards on love that has lowered.

     It’s rather old fashioned and idealistic, and I know that finding that type of love, the kind that defies everything just to come into fruition, is next to impossible in the modern times, but that’s the only way I love. No more, no less. I don’t do things halfway.

    I wont be closing my doors on that just because time dictates it.

     It’s been quite a bit of time since I last posted, at least for me, that is, and I’d like to start things off by thankying John for his comment regarding the last post. However you stumbled onto my little treasury of complaints here, the effort is appreciated. Good to know that people I haven’t met yet has access to certain aspects of my personal life. (No offemse, sarcasm is my second language.)

     June is coming up, and after being granted a verbal guarantee from the dean that I will be teaching this coming school year, I’m pretty much fine with sitting at home and waiting for my turn to swing the teaching bat. Verbal contracts are basically the way they do things here down south, and considering that the past two years pretty much intensified my already screwed up level of trust among my fellow man.

     So, this monday, I break my promise of never working up north ever again. Just this once.

     New job. The erotica thing. Oh, my god.

     Just in case certain figures of authority change their minds about one’s employment. Just had the orientation, and the place isn’t so bad.

     I am fucking nuts.