Dragons and Broken Hearts

A decision I’ve made on a whim, like throwing a stone far out and just checking where it would land, became an actual act of progression.

I am starting out on something new, again. It has been awhile since I’ve been on this doorstep of uncertainty and excitement all rolled up together. A part of me is definitely looking forward to a new environment, maybe a new beginning. Along with this is fear, of the unknown, of the worse possible outcome of my decision to leave a place that has been a comfort zone despite the number of pitfalls I’ve experienced or daily living them.

As I have told Alaska, I might be making a huge mistake, but it’s a mistake I probably have to make, although I am hoping it wouldn’t fall to that.

Telling Texas personally that I am leaving, was hard. Because all the memories, despite them usually being phone calls and online chatting,came rushing in my head. All the while my heart was breaking. Dramatic. You could say that.

I love them both. Alaska and Texas. No one has been like them in my eight years in the company. I’m not too sure of ever finding anyone else like them.

Telling Alaska via online chatting was hard. I caught myself breathing deeply to stop tears from gathering on my eye lids. I felt pretty much a sap. I honestly told him I didn’t know what to really say. I hate giving bad news to good people. And despite knowing I had every right to make this decision, I felt guilty. I know. It doesn’t make sense.

I had dragons in my stomach all through out the month, trying to come up with words to tell them of my choice. Whoever came up with butterflies as a description was making things up to be cute, because I swear what I had were fire-breathing ones. I’ve stressed over words to say. What bullshit I would give for reasons: Time, change, family and peace of mind.

We were a perfect combination. They needed an individual that would cater their business needs and I am hardly a team player unless necessity requires that I work with and for a team. They gave me free reign in most of the things I did for them, which allowed me to explore and experiment on some things that I’ve become adept with. And I am thankful for that. But most of all, I am thankful for having gotten to know great individuals, who despite the hard work they put me through, were patient and respectful. Often it didn’t feel like work. And at the end of the day, they never ever forget to thank me. Which as my manager has told me, we have a “thankless job”, which I refute, should not excuse people from forgetting common courtesy to say thank you.

To put it bluntly, Alaska and Texas are high up on the food chain, and yet I feel more appreciated working with them than with people who I see everyday in the office and “requests” data analysis.

Makes me wonder of the adage: only the privilege can afford to be thankful.

I am surrounded by sharks. Even those I have considered team mates are like predators on a blood scent. Within the time before my last day of work, I wonder if I would ever tell them the truth why I’m really going: I find that I could no longer stomach the little things that people do to make me feel unwelcome, the under-the-belt discrimination and put downs to our team, the constant reminder that I am under someone who could barely be a good follower therefore a questionable leader; that I am locally under the supervision of someone who bothers people for opinions but do not really listen to them or take them into consideration; watching someone high up on the food chain act like a common vindictive woman; watching every one kiss ass in order to be granted undeserved positions; watch deserving and hard working individuals leave the company and be replaced by incompetent if not untrained pliable individuals. But most of all, I can no longer stand to go to the office and see the same shit over and over and over again. I am not good at pretending.

As much as they have done to protect me, they weren’t there to see what I was witnessing. And I’m not really one to tattle-tale. Maybe this is due to being raised by a man who taught me self-respect is a fundamental ingredient to a healthy soul.

I will miss them. More than I could ever imagine I’d say. Therefore before I leave, I’ll make sure they are taken care of and that I would have a replacement who would care for them as much as I have.

Lesson learned: Do not fall in love with your boss. Leaving would break your heart as much as mine already has been.

A Season of Thieves

I’ve been a victim of B&E. My apartment was ransacked and most of my gadgets taken even a couple of running shoes and my spikes.

Despite not being home when it happened, it wasn’t easy recovering. The constant paranoia, the unreasonable spike in anger, the violent tendencies. I have a large sword, a baseball bat, mace, a switch blade and a stiletto knife, strategically placed and hidden in my room. I constantly carry a thin long blade, a pen with metal casing and a pen knife where ever I go.

I hurry home at 5am, making the effort to go to work earlier than my shift in order to get home by 5am because of my paranoia.

Often I am glad when my parents visit cause there’s someone at the apartment while my sister and I are out working. Or when my sister’s boyfriend stays the night.

So you can see. I have not recovered. I am still a victim. And it unnerves me that I don’t mind being constantly on the look out, being angry and suspicious of the world.

I wish I could say that I am getting better, and I am seeing the world in a lighter image, that it isn’t such a dark place to live after all. But I don’t.

Recent incident has made it worse. I have friends who just went through the same shit I had or worse. Plus the fact that at least 3 months after the incident I was in a holdup situation on the jeepney I was riding from the bank back to my apartment. I was one of the lucky ones. Nothing was taken from me since I had a thin belt bag where I placed my cell phone and new ATM card and was hidden under my shirt. When the perpetrators asked me to show what’s in my pockets, all I could show them were 3 5-peso coins. The rest of the passengers had their phones taken as well as their wallets a watches.

The really thing that made it worse? The two guys who held us in “knife-point” entered the jeepney and pretended to have a friendly argument then all of a sudden sang a Christmas song, like kids on a caroling spree. Then when everyone was starting to get irritated with the off-tune singing, they held us at knife-point. Fucking hell. Talk about desperate, devastating and a freaking nightmare.

Even now, I have colleagues at work with the same complaint, that theft has been rising. One even commented that you wouldn’t be considered as a resident of the island if you haven’t experienced a B&E. I hate that. That it has become some sort of norm.

I am mad that no resolutions have been available, making me hate cops more.

I am home right now, with Rebel and Tinker. With Tinker barking at anything or anyone passing by our apartment. Yes. Tinker isn’t friendly. Should I decide to have him enroll on a dog training class, I’d enroll him on how to behave during walks and take down people. Dog owners might hate me for this train of thought, but I am glad Tinker isn’t friendly. I’d fucking congratulate him if he ever catches a thief and have the perpetrator bleeding all over the garage when I’d get home so he’d be ripe for some one on one time with my baseball bat.

Violent. Yes. But so is the fucking world.