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Protected: The Nth Hour
Humans are the only kind who kill their own species.
I first heard this line from a Robin Williams movie back in 1998 where he plays a former patient wanting to become a doctor. It was somewhere between his love being killed off by one of their patients when he started doubting the human ability to show compassion.
Who could blame him?
I spent the week in Antipolo with Marga and Bianca, probably two of my most favorite people. It was Wednesday morning when Marga told me that one of her (Assumption) sisters was shot in the head after a holdup. From what I first learned, her laptop was stolen and she was trying to take it back, almost like a tug of war. Never did she think that it would be a tug away from being the longest episode of her life.
I don’t know this girl, but the familiarity of the situation made me know her. One of her teachers back in high school wrote this bittersweet piece for her (click here) recounting the longest morning of Tara Santelices. She was with her best friend when the ordeal happened, on their way home to Cainta. After hearing the gunshot, inspite of her best friend’s evident panic, the jeepney driver still opted to let the passengers get off according to their destination. When they got to the clinic, the driver left them. Joee, Tara’s best friend, has to scream to get some attention. The clinic refused to admit them because they can’t help Tara. Joee had to carry Tara to the cab, all of her 5’2″ strength.
The time… it’s almost nauseating how much time was wasted. How much energy Tara could have saved. How much hope Joee could have still had.
Is this statement really true? Are we the only species who kill our own kind? Are we, the ones granted the greatest gift of rationale, the ones who can’t even think straight?
It’s a big question for a Sunday morning, and I apologize for those who’d be bothered. But we should be bothered. We should be aware. We have become practical, too practical in fact that we lost the things that we should value the most.
Compassion. Strength. Courage.
Can we blame the robber who was trying to make ends meet? Can we blame the driver for trying to meet his boundary and bring home a somewhat okay wage? Can we blame the passengers for rushing home to their families? Can we blame Tara and Joee for being out to celebrate a milestone in Tara’s life?
In the end, it only comes down to that one moment, that one minute where you put compassion on top of earning, going home, and making a living. That one moment, that one small moment, will define who you really are as a person.
Funny how two ladies turned out to be a cut above the rest.
To Joee, you’re the best friend a person can ever have.
To Tara, the fight isn’t over.
Random ramblings
Marga and I are having problems nailing a job. We got so excited and hyped over the thought of emancipation and owning our very own house, we get easily frustrated when a job interview goes to nowhere.
Has anyone noticed how hard it is to nail day jobs? It’s like looking for a hooker who looks like Angelina Jolie (without the pregnant belly). I know for a fact I can’t work nights anymore. My mom is petrified at the thought of having my seizures again.* So here I am, desperately seeking that next day job and hopefully be satisfied with it.
*When I lack sleep and adequate rest, I get partial seizures. My entire left arm goes numb and so does the left side of my face. Fuh-reaaaaky.
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I took a good look at my resume and saw that it’s been two years since I graduated and I am yet to settle down. I mean, loyally work for a company. I guess that’s what makes job hunting twice as hard: I actually want to grow this time, not just to have money to buy shoes (though that will always and forever be a valid reason to do physical labor). I actually want to get somewhere.
I am close to desperate actually. This morning, I posted this on my Y!M status: I am sooo jobless. In a flash, everyone in my list just started asking for my CV, saying they’ll find me one in their company. A grade school friend, whom I haven’t seen for the past 10 years, actually offered me a job in her mom’s company. Damn. Desperate is the word.
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Dylan is actually settled now. He’s having a perfectly good time at ePerformax, which to be honest, I am beginning to envy. HOWEVER, it’s the first time that I actually saw him willing and enthusiastic in a job. From what he tells me, he seems to have pretty good peers to. But he did emphasize that there’s nothing like our wave in CVG. Yeah.
Just this afternoon, he told me he wants to be a trainer in the company. Whoa. Talk about longevity and permanence. I’m pretty proud of him. It’s actually his first time to set a goal/career path. He usually just does what his parents tell him. I guess that’s what emancipation does to a person.
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WHICH IS WHY I CAN’T WAIT TO BE EMANCIPATED!
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But that is such a long shot. I have come to terms that the average Filipino family has too many debts, they can’t afford losing one of the contributors in the household income. I don’t mind. Giving my share every pay day actually makes me feel better. I can see the ease my parents get every time I hand them the slice of my pie, and to be honest, it’s nice to see that I somehow bring comfort to them.
Of course, that last happened a couple of months ago because right now, I am UNEMPLOYED.
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Sheesh.
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I’m going to Makati tomorrow with a vengeance.
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Unemployed yet again
So… by the end of the month, I am yet again unemployed. This isn’t something new to me. I think I’ve been in that position too many times, it feels like I’m just putting on underwear. I don’t know. I pity my parents. I’m sure they’re itching to lecture me about company loyalty, professional stability and the capability to have a steady, regular flow of income to supply for my ever-growing list of wants and needs. Plus of course, that itsy bitsy factor that I help a lot with the house bills.
I don’t know. I resigned again. Every single time I do that, I feel defeated. I feel like I gave up on myself again. I feel like I’ve wasted another opportunity for me. And I can sense that the people I know feel it too.
That’s the thing that I am most thankful for. Being educated enough to know what I want to pursue. But it’s also something that I’m itching to get out of. Being educated enough to know the responsibilities that come every month. Most of the time, they mean completely different things. And for me, there’s always some kind of desperation there. Not only does it make choosing more difficult, but it incorporates the word “wisely” much deeper than you wish it to be.
The type of job/career/work that I want to have is the one where I can move freely. I know that’s pretty vague, but that’s the closest I can get to describing the perfect task for me. But I do know though, that that task requires a lot of money to put up and not so much to get in return. For anyone, that’s not a fair bargain. Especially for first-born only-girl people whose overachieving self never failed to be perceived as the perfect girl for every situation.
I am soooo bitter. I bet you can tell. Oh well.
It’s not like this is my first time to be here.
Roll with the punches. There’s no time to be sissy now. Next bill comes in 15 days. I can’t afford to miss paying for that one.
the salt of your skin 