A cup of coffee and the infinite tantrums

Posted on: February 8, 2006

The past few days have been a spiral of blurry images that I refuse to just flush down the drain. I am the type who wants to document everything that has happened at a day’s work — be it worthy or not. Having something to look back to is one of the most precious possessions someone could have.
Lately, I’ve been seriously contemplating in turning yet another leaf in my life. That is to say I’m getting bored in the routinary things I’ve been doing lately. I sleep past 12 midnight or sometimes, when the good Bathala turns his pitying eyes on me, lets me sleep a little earlier like 10 pm. I a convinced I am an insomniac. I usually come around at 5 am, annoyed by the incessant beeping of my mobile-turned-alarm clock, only to snooze it and go back to deep slumber. And so my day starts an hour later, thank God I get to witness another day of miracles and wonders and leave a promise that I’ll be nicer (or atleast try to be). Work starts the moment I’m beyond the confines of my domicile. Since I’m a little over my budget, I try to commute through the good old reliable Ayala loop FXs and see the real world through my co-commuters’ eyes… a.k.a. long queue to the FX stand, morning rush, heavy traffic and traffic police scalawags who are preying on colorum vehicles [usually the one that I’m in] for some “blessings.”
At work, I race myself against the red asterisk our HR manager loves putting beside our names in the log sheet at the strike of 8:30 am — a palpable sign that we’re late. I turn on my PC, my speaker and listen to my morning hymn — the Pachelbel’s Canon in D or sometimes when I crave for them, the Prayer of Jabez songs. I yawn, slouch on my bon-bon chair, yawn some more and curse myself for being such a sleepyhead. My cup of coffee always does the trick. I am such a heavy coffee drinker that I could drink up to four mugs a day. Oh, and yea, I also get a lot of scolding from Cristine whenever I get those severe palpitations from too much caffeine in-take. My a$$ is glued to my seat the rest of the day, trying to figure out my next step for the damned magazine project that I am currently handling: Call this, call that, email this, email that, write this, write that, reasearch this, research that, God, I can go on and ramble about this for like eternity. A third of my total workload ends in procrastination; half is accomplished amid the groups’ occassional laughing fits and Ka-Ching’s cigarette breaks.
When I get tired staring at my monitor, my brain cells would automatically give signals to the nerves in my palate– by then, I’d know that I’m hungry. Honestly, I am always hungry and I have this assumption that I was a fat, no, an obese man, in my previous life. And so, we’de go hunt for food, slightly elated by the fact that I have an excuse to see the outside world. I’d crave for all kinds of food — from manang’s squid and chicken balls to mini stop’s hot loops, to jamaican patties (this often irks the hell out of my posse… the jamaican pattie stand is quite far from the office but since they love me, they often give in to my juvenile whim). I glance about a dozen times to my monitor clock, half-euphoric that the day would be over soon and half-dismayed that I haven’t done anything to boot (“according to me”).
The clock would strike 5pm and Wayne, the new Chinese guy in the corner, would get up from his seat to log-off… or is it the other way around? Wayne would log-off and the rest of the office people would know that it’s already 5pm… hehe. We often tease him about it. By this time, my day “officially” starts. My momentum to work would suddenly sky-rocket as if it’s only seven in the morning. (Refer to my friendster blog, “Tag-Praning…During such moments”) I’d work to my capacity, make up for the wasted time of staring at a blank monitor screen for hours during the day. By this time, I am predisposed to writing novel-like blogs without feeling guilty for doing so.
Who said I had an 8-5 job? It’s actually an 8-to-whatever-time-I-feel-like-going-home type of job. Take this for instance. It’s 12 midnight and we’re still here in the office. The Solutions graphic artists finishing some designs for the K-Transfer project with Vida’s supervision, Cristine finishing a powerpoint presentation, Ka-Ching helping out and me, finishing an agenda for tomorrow’s Asian Quality meeting while writing this blog.
Tomorrow at 5 am, my mobile-turned-alarm clock would beep, its naturally annoying ring tune tearing my serene slumber apart and I’d go through the whole routine all over again.

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