Ad Infinitum

Because Friendster is petty and in spite of how I loyally stuck around when it always took forever to load a page and nothing ever went right, would only let me upload more pictures on this blog if I paid; I took it as a cue to move to a new home.  Never mind that it has now added an additional 50 MB free space.  It still means I have to pay when I’ve used up that space.  Never mind too that it has recently upgraded and tries to look like other blog services.

Please follow me here and bring hopes of finding me blogging on a more regular basis. Not that I have that many readers but hey, two is plural.

Our office cleaner is a guy. He was hired because he told me this story about his meager pay as a guard and how he needs extra income in order to support his son through college. I cannot say no to things like this. So with no room for misgivings, I gave him the job.

He’s been working for us for three months now and so far, he is good at it though I continue to wonder why he never sweeps the floor. I remember telling him on day two, after noticing that he didn’t sweep the floor, that he should do so before mopping. He said yes but I’ve yet to see him do it.

Last month I found out that he rinses the rag for wiping tables in the same pail that he uses for mopping, and with the same water at that! Que horror! I immediately got him a basin the next day and told him to use that "exlusively" for washing the rag. He said yes but with barely disguised puzzlement. He looked like I just forbade him to mix coffee and milk together.

When he mops, and there are all these computer cables and wires lying on the floor, he would push them with the mop so they get dragged to whatever direction he leads them to. Which sometimes causes some wires or plugs to get pulled out from their outlets. I never called his attention about this because he might start thinking of me as this hawk that watches his every move. I am not and I don’t. I just always happen to see him doing these things by accident. What unfortunate accidents on my part because they really get to me.

I remember this conversation I had with my landlady. She said that one reason why she will never get an "ayi" ( a local term for female domestic help) is because her OC-ness will get the better of her, and she will always fuss over the ayi to do things right — or her way. She will find fault in everything she does if it doesn’t conform to her own approach so in the end no work will ever get done, and everyone is unhappy. That hit the nail on the head as far as my own reluctance to get an ayi is concerned.

I am forever complaining about backaches and stress from the never-ending household chores and planning to hire someone to do the job. But never did. Truth is I think I’ll feel doubly stressed if I got someone who uses the same rag to wipe the entire house, never once rinsing it, or if I found out that she washes the mop on the kitchen sink — something I saw our office-neighbor ayi doing! It doesn’t help, too, that I am the type who feels bad after reproving someone for a wrongdoing, and worse if I had to do it again. Alas, I am a victim of my own fastidiousness and politeness which are likely to confine me to a lifetime of household drudgeries and… well, backaches.

With our office cleaner, I try to avoid any chance of witnessing more misses by not watching him work while I can. For a guy he is actually doing a great job. I also appreciate that he is a conscientious worker who does not go around wasting soaps, cleaners and water like most hired helps do. Most importantly, I always put in mind that this job helps augment his income. I cannot take that away from him just because I am finicky, and without the nerve to play the part of the authoritative employer.

By the way, each time after he cleans my table and keyboard, I always go back to my desk with the Internet Explorer’s Help Menu on display. Always. I guess that, also, is a talent.

This is hilarious. I don’t understand why one would open a bottle of tomato sauce inside a cab.

Here are two winning pictures that I got from this site.

I am laughing so hard, I don’t know how I’m going to work in the next five hours.

I’m sharing this "bloggish email" — as she fondly calls it — from a dear friend in the US who wrote it during one blah day at work. I like its straightforward and unembellished tone. I know the piece ends almost abruptly, but then it’s an email, not some formal essay. I love the "Manila nostalgia" part best. She allowed me to publish this on the condition that she is not named so she shall only be known as "She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Hee Hee. Thanks, Bee! (OK, don’t fret. I think there’s only like three of us who know you by that name!)

Enjoy reading as much as I did. I’m sure those of you also living far from home will find yourselves agreeing with what she wrote.

=======================================================================================================

Blah…..This day has been blah since it started.  My eyes are puffy complemented by dark circles, the winning combination to achieve that 28 Days Later look, ugh!  And today’s my boss’ birthday too!  Her office is trashed in every fashion:  caution tape on her main office door, turquoise and orange streamers serve as curtain to our connecting doorway, balloons all over, a balloon safari guy with a bubble saying, "Relax, it’s your birthday" written with a sharpie and a streamer garland on her corkboard.  Her birthday marks the end of a week-long March birthday bashes filled with sugar.  And that’s why we opted to serve breakfast instead of cake.  I don’t think I can look at another birthday cake anymore and not feel sick! I’m proud of my nice (read:  trashy) handiwork though, hehe.  I am the only one in this company who actually trashes people’s offices for their birthdays.=)  And now we’ve defaulted to "homemade" birthday cards — I create them!  It’s fun though, I just create simple big cards for everyone to sign. =)  Saves time.  Saves money.  People seem to like it. =)

Now I’m eating at my desk, bye bye Monk or Project runway or Giada.  I’m beyond caring if my boss gets a good whiff of my delicious pork giniling menudo, ha!  Mmm-mmm!  Having lived here for almost 10 years, it’s natural to think I’ve completely let go of my Filipino palate. On the contrary, I’ve even enhanced it!  Enhanced not just my palate but culinary skills as a whole.  It’s just like how my relatioinship with my mom has gotten closer because we’re far apart, hihi.  Manila is still my anchor.  Everything about me is rooted in the Philippines and living here just made me realize how I love my heritage (shucks.).  I know, I know, the country as a whole is almost a joke but if you really dissect it, the joke is the politics.  Everything else is just lovely. Except for the degradation of everything lovely.  HA!  Haaaaay, I can’t wait to hit the beaches when I go home in 2009!  Please, please, please, just don’t let me jinx myself on this!

My sister has this habit of sharing what she’s reading or watching on the spot, regardless of what I’m doing or if my mood is up for listening.  Like recently, she was watching this horror film from her desktop:

Sister: Look! look! The ghost is wearing red and she’s running after the female lead.

Doris (seriously reading something on the net, and not removing the eyes from the pc): Uhm.

Moments later.

Sister: Now everyone thinks she’s nuts. They think she’s seeing things.

Doris: …

Sister: She’s taking the subway now and the ghost in red appears again.

Doris: (stares at her and her monitor with a blank expression and switches back to own monitor)

Sister: (continues talking which I don’t hear anymore)

That is how it’s like every day.

I love my sister.

We coexist peacefully.

Because saying "Counter Closed" is boring.

Otherwise translated as Unauthorized Persons, Strictly No Admittance to the Warehouse.

Of course I never regarded John Legend and Martin Luther King along the same lines, looks included.  But when I opened today’s MSN homepage, I thought it was John that I saw, and it turned out to be MLK.

My eyes see the strangest resemblances and similiarities which translate to queerness. Come to think of it, there’s more Eddie Murphy features in MLK, no?

There are days that I get terribly tired of all the self-centeredness around me, all I want to do is just shut myself off from the rest of the world. Today is one of those days.

I realize that I’m not the good listener (or the saint) that the whole world thinks me to be. I guess I’m just always too polite to show disinterest or to outrightly brush someone off. I’ve mastered the art of listening so well that I can usually react with "Is that so" or "That’s so bad" at the right moment even if my mind has wandered off elsewhere, and I’ve no freaking idea what the other person is talking about. 

What disappoints me the most are these people whom we call friends who suddenly remember to write or call when they’re having problems or are in their "self-absorbed" moments. When everything’s all right, they’re forever so busy they never have time to write an e-mail, even just to say hi. Then there are those that I don’t even consider friends who come running to me for favors and help like I owe it to them. Which always makes me feel tempted to say "I don’t want to help you because we are not friends to begin with. If you want to use me, please consider employing some style and a little subtlety. Also, sudden flattery and friendliness will only make me leery which decreases the already small chance of me making your problem my problem."

I should partly blame myself for always being so generous with my time and "ears" that everyone seems to think that all I do is sit here waiting to hear their stories or do them favors. Well for the record, I don’t. Now if you think this is about you, then it probably is in which case I hope you do something about it. If you’re not the subject in question yet insist that you are, feel free to charge it to vanity. It is the kind of conceit that I can still take. And please forget the chutzpah of confronting me if you’re the star (or one of the stars) of this post because I just said that I am a polite person so there’s no way I’d humiliate another by confirming the worst about himself. There’s still this thing called instrospection so use it instead.