Life in a Suit: The City

Let's talk about the city...

No, I'm not talking about the city and that hit show where fashion and acts of the night are up and about. I'm talking about the city where I currently work where people are trying to pave a good walking experience (despite the smoke and the number of people constantly bumping you). I'm talking about the city I would like to dub thee as the 'Big M'.

After two years of working here, I realized that I'm quite familiar with everything already. From the restaurants, nearby shops, malls and its version of food trucks splattered on the sidewalks.

I'm used to the city.

But I don't live in it.

I'm fifteen minutes away from the city and on a good Saturday, I only need to catch a ride to the train and voila! Leisure time for me. On a working day, I take one of the shuttles that drops me off three blocks from my office. I love this walk and if I'm not rushing, I drop by a coffee shop along the way or near the back of my office building to buy a highly expensive cappuccino.

People are not as fashionable as you may think. A lot of times, people walk wearing flats or flip-flops. People leave their coats behind, unless their rushing to a meeting and are covered by the usual jacket or cardigan. Most of the time, a sea of black slacks would accompany you while waiting for the 'walking man' signal to turn green. During these moments, you are one of the urban workforce. You belong to a statistic of the employed (and hopefully, the dreamer). Sometimes, you might hear a man arguing on the phone or a bunch of girls with their office gossip. Nevertheless, you will always be accompanied by the last hurrah of an old, beaten down engine that is over its last miles.

Once you reach a nearby mall on a workday, the crowd becomes a force, a wave that will lead you to the train station if you do not counter their flow. Best thing to do would be to grab a bite before you tackle the commute home. An affordable sandwich is nearby if you want to feel like you are indeed in NY. You can eat on the steps of the mall center and pretend that behind you is some important building manufactured by history. If you feel rebellious, bars are quite open on a working day. They'd sell you cheap beer and give you a handful of peanuts while you light a cigarette and look important. Truthfully, I love this experience. Walking inside a restaurant, hitting straight for the bar while adjusting my suit to make yourself comfortable. Then, I light up a cig and I tell myself: "You had a pretty long day... at least your not jobless!"

However, the best part of my day would be the moment I step out of the office building with the sky not as dark as it ought to be. It feels early and I quickly put on my earphones. I smile and I start listening to my walking playlist. My step is a little bit faster when the song is upbeat and a little bit slower when I'm listening to something sad. It's that time of the day when you think: "Yeah, my personal time just started."

Because, honestly, the moment you wake up until your working hours end is all about work. It's all about finding the right outfit for work, rushing to be on time for work or even taking a bath because you don't want to smell when you're in work. It's not true that you can have lunch outside (unless you're having it with your own colleagues because you do work still while eating) or you can play hookie just like that (because you probably won't have work when they find out that you have no valid reason to take a leave that day).

Working in the city is hard and people always assume that it will be easy just like in the movies. I guess, what's keep me sane is the idea that when my work hours end, my personal one begins and that's why you have to get through the day.

So that's my life in a suit while working in the city. I hope you understand now why I find it so hard to meet at times. I also hope that you get it, that it's not that I'm pulling away, but I can't always extend the effort. The city is near, accessible and more affordable to me.

Suited,

Someone Anxious.

Writing About: Life in a suit

Everyone's been doing a lot of writing exercises lately. In fact, most people I follow have started and even Holly has her own version...

I thought it would be nice to keep tabs with people by writing about how my every day is going (and not just about what I feel when I'm hyped or extremely blue). But instead of talking not talking about anxiety (like Holly) or the brighter side of things, I've decided to write about my life and majority of it being my work...

Don't worry, I won't talk about company secrets or gossip. The posts won't be anything about hot office romances (which I'm not the type, truth be told) or any of the nitty gritty details that won't make any sense if you don't really know me.

Life in a Suit posts will be more of me (well, duh - it is my blog) and what are my thoughts about working on a specific day. What makes working corporate so special or (for some) dull. I know a lot of people hate talking about work but maybe this way, some of my friends might understand what I do a little bit more and realize why exactly do I do what I do.

I can't promise that there won't be some rants along the way but what I can say is that this little exercise might be able to help me (and you) realize the simple joys of working an 8 - 5 type of job.

Hope to inspire (you and I both),

Someone Anxious

Rant: When one gets sick...

It's funny how sickness trumps everything else.

Just to clarify, I'm not sick. I'm actually in good working conditions right now. Last night, I had a great time with my uncle, supporting him in his fashion show. I was able to meet his friends and a celebrity here in the city (Clue: He owns a make-up chain). Today, I finished everything I had to do (well, what I remembered to do).

Then I received a call.

My brother, living quite far if I do think so myself and thus, I officially categorizes as an absent family member of sorts finally took the liberty of informing my dad that he's sick and in the hospital. I think, to make much sense to this, I have to write about the state-of-the-nation between my family (or what's left of it).

It all started last Tuesday. My aunt informed my dad that my brother was sick. He had a fever and decided to get himself tested in the hospital. What ticked me off was that he called my cousin (who is in the states FYI) about it. This might not make sense if you don't know me at all but the short explanation is that they work together in the same bank. So practically, they go to the same office. But my brother, who he himself likes and admits, is a bit out of touch. Yes, he didn't know that our cousin is in the States right now and opted to call her so that he can be brought to the hospital.

But since my cousin is in the States, it launched a series of unfortunate events.

My cousin called my aunt (her mother and technically, my land lady). My aunt went to my dad (we all live in the same area) and informed us that my absent brother was sick. This might not seem quite unfortunate, but when you're living in the same situation as I'm in, trust me, this is the last thing you want.

Now, I just find my brother's initiative stupid.

I don't know about you, but we have one "rule" (which is really more of a norm but this is not the place to discuss academically what is culture) and that is to take care of your own family... My cousin, just brought my aunt to the hospital a week ago (which was an added stress to her) and did not, in any way bother my dad or I (until it was absolutely necessary). Now this, is quite a little bit back to normal.

Am I getting through?

Point is, you don't call a cousin or an aunt to help you out when you're in the same situation as we are. You call Dad because he's your dad. He should even call me because I'm his sibling and I think direct relation weighs heavier than first degrees.

Anyways, I called my brother and handed my phone to my dad. That's the only time my beautiful absent brother finally decided to talk to him and inform us about his condition (which at that time, was just fever and he assured us that he was okay). We went on with our lives because that's what we do. In fact, that's what he does best.

Then my dad sent us a message this afternoon that my brother was confined to the hospital. He's stable but it just so happened that he had dengue. I called my dad, set a schedule and we both decided to visit him tomorrow early morning so that we can finish whatever we're doing tonight and focus tomorrow. Seems sound? I thought so too.

My sister didn't think so though.

As if she was here geographically, she set me a mirage of text messages on what to do. I call her to inform her what Dad and I planned and 'lo and behold I get a verbal slapping session.

"Why can't you just go there!?"

"I'm booking a flight home and you won't even go there when you are just a couple of cities away!?"

"I don't understand! Have you even called him yet? Don't you even care?"

"Wouldn't you want us to visit when you are in the hospital, confined?"

"Where is your sense of family!?"

I swear to whatever god or gods are out there, I have never been this angry. Sister dearest, how dare you tell me about my sense of family! I have done nothing but give everything to family. From sacrificing everything for my grandmother, uncle and mother - even staying with her until the very end; From staying with Dad, my aunt and my cousin - because their family and that's where I should be; From doing something and putting your dreams on hold - because in this family, dreaming isn't cost effective; From giving every inch of an extra penny, every ounce of blood, sweat and tears because of family. I swear to god, if I have a fucking wrong sense of family, then maybe I should just jump off a building!

If I was confined, wouldn't you want to visit? Fuck this! I was confined. I was sick to the bones. In fact, I've been in and out the doctor's office for the past six months! Who did I call first, my dad. I asked help from the person's whose responsibility is to help us in the first place.

Tell me, my family-oriented sister, who is the one talking to our insensible grandmother? Who is the one taking care of her, visiting her every week and even buy her requests? Who is the one keeping our dear uncle sane, supporting him and giving him every bit of extra I can scoop? Who remembers dad's birthdays, arranging everything for him and making sure he takes his meds and eats healthier? In fact, who texts and calls our dear absent brother even though we both know he will never reply or texts?

Tell me, my family-oriented sister, when was the last time you looked at our grandmother and actually talked to her without rolling your eyes? When was the last time you talked to our favorite uncle and asked him really how he's doing physically and emotionally? When was the last time you gave dad something he really wants (and your monthly contribution doesn't count because we all do that)? I may be here for the good times, but trust me when I say that I'm also here for the fucking, dirt-poor, agonizing ones. Remember? You left! You fucking left and I had to catch all the crap.

Never insinuate that I have no sense of family because I have done everything to keep ours a working semblance of one. If you think I have no sense of family, then there's one reason why I should just give up on ours.

Now I truly see that Holly was right. Maybe, this is more reason for me to be more adamant to not have one.

Obviously Ranting,

Someone Anxious

Missed.

I often wonder if I am missed.

I write about so many things I miss and now, I can't help but think if anyone really truly misses me. It's hard being left behind at times. Everyone's got someone (is that a song somewhere?) and at times I feel as if I'm downgraded to number 2.

I don't mind.

I mean, I understand... I understand that love is stronger (isn't that what I write all the time here?). I understand that it's the natural course of things: to be moved to number 2. I guess, as number 2, I try really really hard to be there for people. To fill my days with catching up, meeting up and getting along. I try to keep busy, not take any offense and make the most of being left behind.

It's not that lonely, I realized. But there's that feeling of wanting to be missed that nags you late at night.

I told a friend on mine, over a cup of yogurt, a few weeks back that I've been running. I've been running as far away as I could so I  can forget about the things I want to forget and not remember about the situations that happened. I keep busy, tiring myself out with work or keeping myself out from home. I drink (or act drunk at times) to pretend to be happy. I tell happy stories, eat the most bizarre of foods and pretend to fail jokes because I want it all to go away at night when I'm alone in bed thinking about an old room, an old house, an old life and even an older lover.

But that's the way things are supposed to be... that's the way it is because everyone has something or someone. They have their own lives to live and I cannot expect them to be there, to cry with me after so much time has passed. I am but a percentage of what people can or cannot give. At the end of the day, we're all just part of an emotional statistic.

I'm not bitter... I'm not sad. I'm just here.

People tell me to take risks, to do what I want to do, to pursue this and to pursue that... but can I really? Honestly? Can I? Reality comes to haunt me every month. I have bills to pay, people to take care of and things to settle. Sometimes, I wish these people can understand what it really feels like to live in the 'real' world. I'm sick and tired of people saying how grown-up they are when in fact, truth is they're not. Only a few people I know understand and that's probably because they went through the same things...

...they were hungry, once, like me.

...maybe they just want to be happy, like me.

...possibly they just feel missed, like me.

Me,

Someone Anxious

Burst and Bloom

To Someone Out There Who Will Feel Incredible Pain After Reading This:

It's funny how a person you used to love tend to disappoint you still.

It's funny how said person ignores you now but back then you couldn't stop talking to each other.

It's also funny how said person won't give back your belongings after borrowing and promising he'll give it back in mint condition.

It's just funny because regardless of whatever happened and whatever is currently happening in your life (and I assume in other people's), you have no right to be so disrespectful. I find that not replying to me because you apparently "forgot" that something your using belongs to me is so disrespectful. It's not about what you borrowed, it's how your acting like a 4 year-old wishing you won't be caught (that's the vibe I feel).

So please, Mr. Can't-You-See-I'm-Over-You-Coz-I'm-With-A-Better-Girl, reply to my messages. It would be nice also if you return my item. If you don't, then I hope you can just fuck it! Here's to you being a good example to her kid.

Sincerely,

Someone Anxious.

PS. There's a secret message somewhere up there.

Heads We Will and Tails We'll Try Again...

Holly was such a big fan of The Calling. In fact, she absolutely adored Alex Band. She was the one who introduced me to them and eventually, to Santana's Why Don't You and I (w/c Alex Band was a part of).

Browsing through some random videos in YouTube, I've come across the song again and it felt heartwarming and saddening to hear it after a long time. Hearing it brought me back to my childhood days where we would ride the bus home and sing our lungs out to Maroon 5 or whatever song we seem to like (including Why Don't You and I). It's heartwarming because I remember carefree days and it's saddening because I know I can never have it back... I can never have my old purple room back, the rabbit wallpaper, my library, our lazy boy and the house that I wanted to get married in. I can never have it back and I think, I'll never ever come to terms with that. No matter how many times I write about it or cry about it, I can never ever have it back. In fact, I think I can never ever get over it. I'm still affected just like the way I'm affected with CSI.

I keep telling the girls that I'm so affected by Grissom and Sara (characters from CSI) breaking up. I was such a big fan and the show practically took over part of my tweenie years. I was obsessed! I was so obsessed that I suddenly had high scores in science because I decided I wanted to be a CSI (as if that's really feasible in this country).

The truth is, I'm affected not because I really want them to be together. But I'm affected because if there was one thing I was right about in this world was that they would (and they did) end up together. I was so adamant and during the days that nobody deemed me to be right with anything, Grissom running after Sara in Costa Rica made me realize that I had every right to be... right. It may not come often, but if I observe enough (I didn't want to use 'follow the evidence' - too cliche), my hypotheses can be right.

CSI also brings me comfort. It reminds me of the days when I could stay up late to watch TV on a Sunday night before school starts the next day. It reminds me of days when we would go to the grocery together (my mom, my sister and my brother) and try to finish everything before 12 so we can hurry home and watch the Sunday recap. It reminds me of Wednesday nights when my sister and I would watch the latest episode over popcorn (she wasn't a health freak then). It reminds me of a time when my brother and I had a common interest simply because we exchanged passing words over what happened to the last episode.

CSI reminds me of better - albeit past - days. Maybe that's why I keep watching it. I may never have those days again or my old purple room or the rabbits that kept my walls company. I may never be able to see the books that kept me and my library busy or our worn down beige colored lazy boy that my sister adored. I may never again set foor in the cream colored, green roofed house that had the most beautiful garden with a blue tiled outdoor area where I wanted to host my wedding party. But I still have stories of Sin City and the crimelab and how two people everyone kept telling me was wrong for each other actually ended up together (and now separating). I still have a crush on Greg Sanders and I still like bugs (just not roaches).

I don't have much and loosing it all affected me more than anyone will ever know but I still have the things that I like. So I apologize if I talk about CSI or old things that interest me too much. I'm just...

...Coping,

Someone Anxious.

Oh, the Places You'll Go!

"Out there things can happen

and frequently do

to people as brainy

and footsy as you.

And when things start to happen,

don't worry.  Don't stew.

Just go right along.

You'll start happening too."

 - Oh, the Places You'll Go! by Dr. Seuss

I've had great plans for this post and I'm not sure I can do it justice with how I feel now. Just this afternoon, I  lost my cool (which has been happening quite recently) and just like in You've Got Mail, I feel awful... really awful because I can't not have heart for these things nor can I stomach the idea of loosing people's good faith.

Still, after watching It Takes Two and reminiscing about the days when the Olsen twins where my idols and Kirstie Alley did not have to loose so much pounds to feel beautiful, I realized that maybe, just maybe, I can still write about the things that I am so happy/grateful for.

This is it:

I guess I'm pretty lucky. For the past three weeks, I've been travelling non-stop.  I'm not sure if I blogged about this already but the reason why I was so adamant to go into what I do now is because of the idea of travelling for a living. Given that I don't always get the opportunity to do a lot of it, but there are moments when the universe just gives you what you want.

Place No. 1: Caramoan

A long over due out of town trip with my college friends was what exactly I needed to sort of relax and just forget about the downside of work. We've been planning to go to the beach for about two years now and finally - after 12 hours inside a bus and 2 hours sitting right next to a stranger in a boat filled that smelled like urine, there we were! Caramoan!

photo credit to our tour guide who climbed what they call the "lagoon"

Let me just say that Frances did an amazing job to find us a budget tour that had it all. We had decent lodgings, snorkling, island hopping and three full meals. Rides to the port included! Honestly, if I had all the money in this world, I'll just buy an island and set up a house (with a decent bathroom) and live there. Then again, we all know that some dreams may not really happen in real life so let's just settle with me telling you all about our trip.

The best part for me would be drinking fresh coconut juice in the middle of the ocean. One of the stops during the island hopping tour was a secluded beach where there were floating cottages and a man selling fresh coconuts. Given that the water (which was a clear blue) was waist high and the sand was so fine, we decided to grab some coconuts and drink while swimming.

Place No. 2: Antipolo

A week after I came back from Caramoan (including a first time trip to Solaire's International Buffet, Fresh) I had a work trip to Antipolo. It's always nice to try out a new place but the truth is, because it's for work, you don't get to do much except take a few (wacky) photos in the morning.

Here's me trying to show off the sun:

Place No. 3: Cagayan Valley

Another work trip that came a day after the Antipolo trip. I was scheduled to accompany a colleague to Nueva Vizcaya (another first) for four days. The view was amazing but what I will really remember from this trip would be the little critters everywhere. Moths would fly about and the Grissom in me couldn't help it. I absolutely loved opening my window every morning and seeing a bunch plastered about as if they were stickers.

Cagayan Valley had amazing weather also! Honestly, it felt like I was in another country. By the time 4pm rolled about, the weather starts to get cooler. I had no use for the room aircon at all! By 9pm, it's so cold that the only thing you could do was to snuggle and fall asleep.

I guess I really am blessed and even though I'm physically tired of shuffling myself from one place to another, from one airport or plain old port and a knapsack to a full RL luggage, it is and always will be worth it.

Caramoan will always remind of the water and how I miss swimming so much.

Cagayan Valley will always remind me of my dreams... how I always wanted to be a CSI (like Grissom who is an Entomologist).

And Antipolo will always remind me of the amazing view I encountered and how I realized that there is a place close to home that can be as serene as those Elizabeth Bennett experienced in Pride and Prejudice.

The best part from all of these trips? Well, it's not over yet. Tomorrow, I'm off to Batangas and even though it is a bit close to home, it is still a trip nonetheless. I'm looking forward dozens to dozens of Buko Pie and maybe a Balisong if I'll ever get a chance.

More importantly, tomorrow I'll be thinking about Dr. Seuss and so, I will end this the same way I started it.

"With banner flip-flapping,

once more you'll ride high!

Ready for anything under the sky.

Ready because you're that kind of a guy!"

-Oh, the Places You'll Go by Dr. Seuss (yet again)

Staying Positive,

Someone Anxious