One of the rare Christmases that was all about me. What I wanted to eat (arroz caldo), what I wanted to watch (Avatar: The Last Air-Bender Book 2), what I wanted to do (read Ed Brubaker's Captain America: Winter Soldier Vol. 1). And it felt fucking great. Heh.
Faye was down with something flu-like so we both spent Christmas in Manila. Cooked for her. A lot. Compulsive cooking; I was planning dinner while making lunch. And on Christmas Eve, we downloaded lyrics and sang songs by Rilo Kiley, Gwen Stefani, Carrie Underwood, etc. until two in the morning.
Hope you all had fun Christmases. It's all about the cheer.
Tuesday, December 26
Friday, December 8
Quitter
The first time I quit a job it was because I didn’t like the job. PR. Nothing really detestable. It was just. Boring. Writing was limited to a sheet or two, quite automatic. I lasted two months.
The second time was for a better offer. Two years in advertising and I already had an offer. Whoa! Or so I thought. I ended up writing coupon text. 50% discount on selected items. Limited offer only. Very limiting.
So I went back to my ex, mostly for sentimental reasons. The organization was opening a new department and the boss was someone I had always wanted to work with. Fucking brilliant. And a sad drunk. It was almost love. But then, he quit. And so.
Looking back now, job #5 was a highlight. Top of the pops because I was high most of the time. And drunk. And dancing to Incognito and M People in Venetia. Cocktails over ice over lunch. Dated compulsively. I started listening to hip-hop and house music and acid jazz. I was twenty-five and foolish but was making really good friends. We signed on each other’s vodka bottle; absolut scribbling of well wishes and confessions.
No wonder I burned out. But I had fun along the way.
Didn’t work for a year. Never really had a break. I was on my second job when I officially graduated. Marched. Took summer classes and was done with college on the first semester of my senior year. And not more than a two-week break since then.
So the millennium came and I was jobless. But I was in love. The freelance thing didn’t really work out for me. I spun records for my boyfriend’s café so I could earn enough to buy CDs. Just waiting for the right job to come along.
The one I’m quitting right now.
Five and a half years. A feat, really. It felt right most of the time. Never really thought of myself as a sales type of worker, but the job turned me into one. I had to meet quotas, had to wear barong, had compute annual budgets. But I was working in a library so it didn’t really matter. Until things changed.
So I’m starting the year with a trip to Hong Kong and Civil War #6. The rest I’ll figure out along the way.
The second time was for a better offer. Two years in advertising and I already had an offer. Whoa! Or so I thought. I ended up writing coupon text. 50% discount on selected items. Limited offer only. Very limiting.
So I went back to my ex, mostly for sentimental reasons. The organization was opening a new department and the boss was someone I had always wanted to work with. Fucking brilliant. And a sad drunk. It was almost love. But then, he quit. And so.
Looking back now, job #5 was a highlight. Top of the pops because I was high most of the time. And drunk. And dancing to Incognito and M People in Venetia. Cocktails over ice over lunch. Dated compulsively. I started listening to hip-hop and house music and acid jazz. I was twenty-five and foolish but was making really good friends. We signed on each other’s vodka bottle; absolut scribbling of well wishes and confessions.
No wonder I burned out. But I had fun along the way.
Didn’t work for a year. Never really had a break. I was on my second job when I officially graduated. Marched. Took summer classes and was done with college on the first semester of my senior year. And not more than a two-week break since then.
So the millennium came and I was jobless. But I was in love. The freelance thing didn’t really work out for me. I spun records for my boyfriend’s café so I could earn enough to buy CDs. Just waiting for the right job to come along.
The one I’m quitting right now.
Five and a half years. A feat, really. It felt right most of the time. Never really thought of myself as a sales type of worker, but the job turned me into one. I had to meet quotas, had to wear barong, had compute annual budgets. But I was working in a library so it didn’t really matter. Until things changed.
So I’m starting the year with a trip to Hong Kong and Civil War #6. The rest I’ll figure out along the way.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)