about the talking fish

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Writer. Wheelman. Occasional DIY mechanic. Walking collection of hang-ups. Hopeless romantic. Old-school. Analog soul in a digital world. I am all of these things and more.

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

Today was supposed to be our first proper day of OJT.

I set out at 11am, walking 5 kilometers or so from my home to the Bicutan interchange. Got on the bus to Makati, then got off and took the MRT to Cubao. We had hoped to meet Leia there because she wasn't with us when we met with our mentor, Dr. Leonardo "Nards" Garcia, at CSB's Angelo King building.

Doc Nards was a bit surprised at the work plan PETA gave us. Our friend Miss Gay wanted us to formulate a marketing plan in a week for PETA's upcoming play so we could have hands-on experience as to implementing it, and determining the causes of success or failure. However Doc Nards told us that wasn't what the Marketing department was looking for in our thesis: it had to be an academic paper with a full-on research component, something that can't simply be done in a week. So we had to ask our leader Miss Queng to let us do a marketing plan for a production in the much later future.

Anyhow, when we got to the old PETA office we were briefed by Miss Arlin on the ins and outs of PETA's rather interesting org structure. Then we presented our predicament to Miss Gay and Miss Queng and they were amenable to the changes in plan; we'd still be helping out with the promotion of the November production anyway.

Funny how our meeting ended very early. We were supposed to have stayed on until 5pm, but they let us go by 2:30. Oh well, we'll finish the 200 hours on other days.

I'm kinda excited about thesis, but I'm also rather scared of what we have to do. At least it's going to be interesting.
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My other blockmates have been complaining about OJT over on the block e-group. Kate was the first to rant, saying that their work sucked. KD followed suit remarking that it's no fun working for other people---ever the entrepreneur.

It's the same story for my other friends on the topic of work. Jason from MP misses college, as he's working as a bookkeeper for a bank in Baliuag and has a wife and a kid and another on the way. And he's younger than I am.

I suppose I've belabored the point that I've become sick of school and am raring to get to work. I've had my fill of spending too much and not earning enough. However, I didn't expect people to be dissuading me from the inevitable. Sure I'll be making my own dough, but it seems I'll end up as burnt-out from work as I have from school and the thought spooks me.

I sincerely hope I land a job I really, really love. I suppose it's about time I took my dad's advice about working for a car magazine. Where would I start?
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Love is a funny thing.

Geraldine summed it up quite well. "Imagine you're a dog, and this really juicy steak is hanging right before your eyes. You're drooling and salivating to get it, naturally.

"WELL GUESS WHAT YOU CAN'T HAVE IT!"

While I laughed at her joke, I was thinking if that was actually a joke at all.

They say the sign of a successful romance is the presence of tension between the two parties. Not the bawling, heated argument type, but the kind that makes the girl go giddy and the guy mumble in his head "I wonder what I can do for her tonight?"

Whenever I'm in love I get the exact same thing, with a horrible twist. The giddiness and lightness of being is there, but it's not so far removed from the stuff that fuels my insecurities and self-pity.

Love is a funny thing, indeed. HA. HA. HA.

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