There is no easy way to face heartbreak. Painful as it is, i guess none of us has any other choice save to lick our wounds, get on with life, and never look back. In time, what was once a badly wounded heart would eventually heal. The process, as proven time and time again, has never been too easy to take on, however.

But like i've said, "The world offers us limited, if not, no choice at all but to cope with the pain and live with it as well as we can."

And that is what i am trying to do now.

Fervent prayer and burying my head in several tasks at once work to keep me from getting depressed. I can say that i am doing quite well. The distraction suffices to prevent me from slipping and losing my mind. Come night time, however, there is no blocking the loneliness that accompanies the automatic replay of these blasted memories. Try as i might to stop the images from coming, they just play out in my head on their own accord--oblivious to my pain, indifferent to my will.

I could have given him the world if he wanted. But what is not meant for me is not meant for me. Of what use is it to force the issue, anyway? I doubt it that he has any idea about how much i've cherished him, what more expect him to love me back! As much as i hate to grieve over having been denied what i wanted so badly, i can do nothing to keep these tears from coming. Like my thick, wavy hair, they seem to have a life of their own.

I should be grateful nonetheless. I have outlets that let me use my pain for something productive. I may not have been as lucky in love, but at least i got these God-given talents that keep me preoccupied while distracting me from the harsh reality of my lovelorn existence.

To ward off the painful memories, i did several concrete, albeit unusual(some of them ), steps to occupy the time until the sleeping pill kicks in:

• I slathered a milk and lemon concoction on my face and body and let it stay on my skin for a full 15 minutes. Then i rinsed it off. After which, i scrubbed my whole body and face with a homemade lemon and sugar body scrub. Only afterward did i perform the actual bathing process--washing my hair and cleaning myself with soap and water.
• I blogged--nothing really unusual about this if you ask me.
• I listened to Coldplay's "Yellow" over and over again--more than 5 times i suppose--as i was blogging.
• I know this is icky, but oh, well...So i picked on my scalp every once so often--a nasty habit i am compelled to do subconsciously whenever i am stressed out, which i am trying desperately to rid myself of.

As the sandman comes to weigh down my lids with sand, prompting my consciousness to wander in dreamland, i would still squeeze in a few more significant tasks:

• I would read the bible and reflect on God's words.
• After praying and reflecting, i would stare at the ceiling and count imaginary bubbles while saying, "He loves me not; He loves me. I do hope so," until my eyelids drop from overwhelming sleepiness.

Finally, i would embrace sleep and dream about being loved in return by the man of my dreams--so much for my "valiant" efforts to heal this badly broken heart of mine he he he...

Depression hits me from out of the blue as always. When it comes, it does so with nary a warning nor a hint as to why of all people i have to be its chosen target. The causes are not what matter but the consequences of its onslaught. For several years now, i have managed to take full control of myself, thus warding off depressive moods successfully. However, these days, particularly from the beginning of this year, i found myself weakening little by little.

Okay, so i am still in full control. The moment the dark clouds of depression start to creep in and threaten my usual sunny disposition, i am alerted immediately. At its worst, whenever i fail to address the depressive feeling head on, i have to make it through the day feeling like crap--all glum and irritable, snapping at anything and everything that dares disturb the hollow silence of my world. Nonetheless, i never let myself be overwhelmed totally. I never allow myself to spend more than two days brooding inside my head. I let myself grieve but only for a while. Afterwards, i bounce back and get my life back on track. In so doing, i am prompted to use all of my inner strength and will power. A solid decision to steer my thoughts away from negativity is worth it to regain my sanity and the order i need to continue living my life in peace at its usual pace.

Depression is one formidable foe. Killing it is no easy task. But with will power and God's help, it can be overcome. In fact, overcoming it can bring out the best in any person, making him stronger and better equipped in facing life's many hassles. I have succeeded several times in killing depression before it can ruin my life. Today, though i feel myself at its throes once more, i am not going to back out and let it overpower me. I am going to fight using all my might and kill depression the best way i know how:

Pray.
When things start going downhill, the best way to reclaim resolve and get a hold of oneself is to "look up." Where human strength fails, God's magnanimity shines through. Though i may not be the best servant in the world(I know and acknowledge that to be a fact.), i am certain of my faith and belief in God's greatness. Like today, being in the doldrums of my so-called life means having to spend some time communing with God thru prayer. Prayer alone quiets the tumult in my head and calms the raging emotions in my childlike heart. Need i say more?

Limit solitude.
And so i am alone, to think that solitude should be minimized whenever my already-lonely life takes a downward turn for the lonelier depths of existence. But i have chosen to be on this spot, after deciding to absent myself again because i didn't get to sleep last night--another sleepless episode with insomnia and my mom's intermittent hollering in her sleep. Honestly, i know for a fact that being alone when you are already in the grips of loneliness can drag your spirits farther down. Thus, it is only apt that i drag my butt out of this room later in the afternoon, and mingle with the people at the nearby grocery store or fastfood restaurant.

Get my creative juices flowing.
Blogging would suffice for now. With my materials at my parents' home and at the office, how can i paint? However, it can't be denied that my right hand has been itching to create some wicked paintings or sculptures these past few days. I have been in the creative lull far too long that i feel my sanity slowly slipping away(lol). For the sake of keeping myself pulled together, i need to paint or write something creative like a poem or short story. 

The droning detailed research task, which is actually not part of the tasks we should be doing given our job description, has got my mind locked in a state of limbo devoid of creativity for quite some time now. I tried journaling at work during my lunch hour, but every time i did, my boss had to interrupt me to discuss work-related matters. I thought he was trying to catch me doing other sideline writing jobs unrelated to the office--something i would never ever do being all morally uptight as i am, not to mention that there is a need to keep my position since it is my security blanket, both financially and emotionally speaking. Then, it occurred to me that he was merely venting his own frustrations at what we are doing. He knows all too well that what he asked us to do was no longer included in the set of responsibilities for our respective positions. Yet there was nothing he could do. And there was nothing any of us, as his subordinates, could do either. That was why i felt the need to blog. Not that he was stifling my freedom to use my lunch hour for creative expression. Probably, he was just trying to keep me out of trouble. Doing personal blogs at the office risks getting our sentiments out into the open for our bosses to peruse. If whatever we have to say has something to do with them in any way, especially if it is loaded with adverse sentiments, then automatically we put our necks on the line. 

The lesson? Restrict blogging to the confines of home and any other places so long as it is beyond the pale yellow walls of our office. Good Lord, you know how much i'm willing to go out of my way to fully exercise that freedom to speak up via writing right now. Sad to say, this freaking broadband is not as efficient as it ought to be--far from it actually, hence i am disabled from exercising my freedom to write so to speak. Oh, well, after spending some time idling at the fastfood restaurant and grocery later, i'll catch up on my reading and prayer time. Then maybe i can write a poem or two to vent my frustrations before hitting the sack.

Hit the gym.
I've just gone back to the gym and worked up a sweat last night for an entire hour. It was so great! Okay, so i have yet to get back to the rigid diet i have vowed to stick with until the first quarter of next year. I am going to do that tomorrow. Today though, i had nachos and a grapefruit for breakfast and lunch. Fattening meals? Indeed. But what's done is done. Anytime tonight, all those nachos i gorged on for the day would be making their way out of my large intestines and out of my...and into the septic tank to join the rest of their cousins in that disgusting stinking paradise they call home. That done, i can forget about them and get started with sticking to my original diet plans.

Confide in a trusted confidante. 
No human friend around here to talk to as far as i'm concerned. My roommate is at work right now, and i really don't want to talk her ear off lamenting about having to survive yet another visitation of the blues. Besides, it is a secret i keep between me and this blogsite alone. My mom, though i have told her about it, does not really give my "issue" that much thought. Knowing that her daughter is one hell of a silent fighter whose fierce independence and razor sharp head comes with a fiery courage to match, she is confident that i would make it through in one piece as i have always done before. 

Beneath the delicate features of my constantly smiling countenance, i am aware of the no nonsense well-trained amazon brainiac lurking within. I have weaknesses, yes. But i am also possessed with remarkable strengths that never fail to surprise people, even myself at times. During somber days like this, i just need an outlet to help me recharge my spirits and get on with my life. Would my blogsite be good enough to qualify as a confidante then? Inanimate as it is, it still allows me to vent my stress and pour my heart out, doesn't it? It may not give me that warm shoulder to cry on or a reliable advice only a trusted friend can give, but it lets me enjoy the freedom to rant...and rant...and rant to my heart's content. 

Promises are not meant to be broken. They are made to be kept, and keep them I shall do. Being human, i am not inured to my personal failings, especially during times when i am not my usually equanimous self. I have said that i am more of a dreamer than i am a doer. But actually, i want both qualities to be on equal footing. I want to dream uninhibitedly at the same time have the drive and energy to carry out my intentions, hence transforming my dreams into reality.

At times, i feel as if i think too much. Then again, there are also times when i think i am not using my brains often enough or as well enough as i ought to. Very funny...This contradiction resulting from the extreme sides of myself never fails to amuse me. I wish i could look deeper into other people's psyche apart from those of my immediate family and friends. These days, i see myself as too full of myself after having done too much self-introspection, which i have poured on several blogs scattered throughout the Internet, including this one.

But as much as i dig into myself, it has never happened that i have never uncovered anything new. I guess, for each one of us, should we really make self-introspection a habit, we would always stumble upon some amusing or novel aspects about us every time we get inside ourselves. Such is the richness and complexity of the human persona. Too often a time we confine ourselves to who we think we are based on how others' perceive us or how we have fared through the years, as proven by our dealings with varied personal experiences on diversified deeper intellectual, emotional, and even spiritual levels. Little do we realize that there is so much more to who we are and what we can do than how we have been trained to see ourselves. I have long realized this though i have never been to quick on jumping on the gun and acting on any of the personal realizations i stumbled upon.

And it is during these moments that i have come to terms with the need to fulfill promises, my need to stay true to my words. I know how hard this is. Promises have always been easier said than done. For most of us, making promises  could take up no more than a second or two, but fulfilling them? Talk about indeterminable time periods lasting up to a lifetime or even beyond it at times.

But let us face it: It is in our ability to keep promises that we prove our strength and integrity as individuals; in the course of doing so, we bring to focus the things that we truly value most in life.

Promises Meant to Be Kept!

I don't want to break promises anymore. This time, i would see to it that i do not make promises i can't keep, even those i dedicate to myself. From this day onwards, i would work hard to fulfill them, hence making the journey towards turning my dreams into the reality they should be. My kind of reality. With God's blessings, these promises to myself i would fulfill:

• Drop 8-10 lbs. monthly!

The most troublesome challenges i face in sticking to my diet are my blasted moods and these freaking hormones. When stressed out, i find myself lusting for foods, particularly those that are unhealthy. As my red days near, i am plunged into a similar dilemma. The emotional upheavals cause me to resort to instant pacifiers, which usually come in the form of food cravings. Either i give in or risk losing control and lashing out at any unfortunate person who would dare push my sensitive buttons. This has got to stop. Beginning today, i am acquiring a more stringent, albeit more sensible eating plan accompanied by rigorous physical activities. Five times a week, i would dedicate to working out at the gym or at home using my exercise gadgets. On eating, occasional indulgences done in well-monitored moderation is permitted. Also, i would keep a diet and exercise log to better keep track of my progress.

• Get wise with spending!

Like my mom, i am one of those people my aunt calls "one-day millionaires." Money in my hands is liquid. I better rein in my wayward ways with money and start clearing up my financial mess ASAP. I have just received my loan and allotted most of it to paying my bills(from other loans). I managed to use some of it to get a new bag and the remainder  I would deposit in the bank, hence making my first-ever personal bank account! Hooray! Okay, so i have used up some of it, but i promise to give it back as soon as i get my paycheck. Moreover, i was told that i would get the royalty check from the book i have edited anytime this week--another additional income besides my regular salary. Yipee! 90% of that would be added to my would-be personal account. I can't go on living the life of a mindless spender. It's high time i set my sights on securing my future despite being single.

• Save! Save! Save!

As i have previously mentioned, i am going to open a personal bank account. I hope to save 1500-2000 pesos of my monthly salary, half the extra pay i get from tutoring, and most if not all of the money i make on the side doing freelance writing, editing, illustrating, and making visual or story concepts. Ironically, my strong ability to acquire money is equaled by my mindless financial handling. I can save and change my ways with money, and that is what i am going to do right now!

• Have stronger control over my moods and thoughts!

I am moody. Though i have long learned the rightful art of taming my thoughts, i know that my control is not as thorough and firm as it should be. I have the right and capacity to direct my mind and steer it away from my moods. Mind control is fueled by strong will. Achieving good control over one's mind means exercising a powerful will. I am strong and determined. My God-given ability to create is as good as my capacity to keep my thoughts grounded on what i think is right and just.

• Get back to painting and writing poetry!

I have very talented hands, my father's hands. My abstracted ability with images is matched by my inherent romanticism with words, making me a natural poet. As my mentor has told me back in college,  "i speak the language of poetry." The poetry of images and words is instilled in my subconscious and consciousness. Having been sucked into the corporate world where i have to direct my concentration on writing for  corporate and advertising purposes coupled with foolproof editing has somewhat sapped the free-flowing course of my naturally poetic self. I have to get back and attend to the yearnings of my heart and soul. On Wednesday, i would get pens and other materials for painting. A painting a week and a poem a day. Though getting past that awkward phase of retracing my path to achieve the level where i once was is hard, i would forge onwards still. No use allowing that stupid pride to get in my way.

• Keep my spiritual obligations and promises!

Never miss Sunday mass and other religious obligations requiring me to attend mass. Spend time nurturing my spiritual side by staying at the monastery to pray the rosary after mass on Sundays, as i stay true to my Wednesday devotion to St.Claire of Assissi. And of course, pray often and never fail to read the bible daily!

• Keep negative forces at bay!

Be it crazymakers, useless thoughts, or those blasted moods; i am shutting all of them out of my world and mind. I would never let them affect me or my life ever again. I know who i am. I know what i want; i know how to get them. I can accept that there are things i can't have and aspects that are way beyond my capacity to take on and understand. I have my strengths and limitations. I am far from perfect, but i am my perfectly imperfect self. I am good at heart though i break in the face of certain challenges given vulnerable times. And it is during these times of weakness that i cling to God and admit the vulnerability of my human nature. Where my strength ends, Gods magnanimity and power begins to manifest all the more. I am a child of the universe, thus to the universe i submit myself.

Honestly, though i have never really complained loudly whenever i do not get my way with things, it never fails to drag my moods down. Today is the last day of my novena. After this week, i shall continue to make my weekly pilgrimage to the St.Claire monastery and write up a new set of petitions. As always, i would offer half a dozen eggs wrapped in colored cellophane and a garland or two of flowers to her along with the letter containing my petitions, which i would drop at the petition box at their office beside the chapel. Of the 11 wishes i have religiously written in 9 letters using pretty stationery paper, some have already been granted. Others are already showing signs of promise. But then again, there is one wish, the one i heart the most, that does not hold the least bit of promise of getting fulfilled soon or even in the near future.

Frankly speaking, it hurts. The pain, though not sufficiently debilitating to cripple me from functioning normally and holding my head up high, is palpable enough for me not to pay heed. Knowing myself, when in pain, i get mad just like a man. Getting hurt means my vulnerable spot has been targeted and hit bulls-eye, weakening me from within.  Every time this deplorable circumstance occurs, i fight back. My pride puts up a defense in the form of raw, masculine anger. Somewhere within, i can feel a part of me lingering in the memory of my loss, crying out, albeit in absolute silence. I have never been a blatantly proud person. In fact, i have little difficulty setting my pride aside in most situations, particularly those that involve other people. Ever self-sacrificing and pragmatic, emotionally and intellectually speaking, i see no need to stay proud if others' welfare is at stake. But when my tender heart is under attack, worse, wounded, the pride steps forth on its own and acts as a shield.

The only problem is i find it hard to contain the rage flaring inside me. Although i manage to stay rational, thus in control of myself and my circumstances, i can't deny that my mind is already partly clouded by rage.

Lord, let me just cry. Please?

But what use is it to get mad? Your will, Lord, is supreme and all-wise. You know far better than i do when it comes to what is best for me. Though my stubbornness refuses to accept reason, i know and accept that despite the pain of not getting what i want so badly, You always have the best explanation ready. And Your reasons are always what is rightful for me, whether i find them acceptable or not.

Despite my pain, i promise to remain faithful, Lord. Always and forever. Amen.

This photo taken from Yahoo images shows a portion of the damage in Japan after the devastating 8.9 magnitude earthquake that hit last Friday. I read several news clips covering differentiated details of the destruction as experienced in varying levels of society with diversified consequences. Nonetheless, all of them share the same common denominator: appalling destruction and devastation in heartbreaking magnitudes. As i absorb the details in my head, my eyes well up on their own, and i just find myself crying in the midst of my reading. By nature, i have long been aware that marshmallow and an unexplainable wealth of tears constituted my heart. Though i vehemently refuse to cry in public and in front of people, even loved ones and friends; images of war, carnage, catastrophes, killings, grief, and human sufferings of all sorts have never failed to tug at my very tender heartstrings. As always, even if these images are just in movies,  i can do nothing but shed a tear or two. And in the case of an all-too-undeniable reality such as this,  i can't help but  just get torn apart.

Beyond the destruction to civilization, my heart goes out to the thousands of human and animal lives lost. Though not much of a consolation, the speed of death dealt upon them by the tsunami and the earthquake is nature's gesticulation of mercy. Death , experienced instantaneously, is the greatest act of mercy any living creature can obtain during the remaining seconds of his life. Nature, being God's work, knows and gives a great deal of it. Man alone, corrupted by evil in his twisted state, is capable of inflicting torturous sufferings in mind-boggling inhumane levels.

I credit to this pondering the alleviation of my sadness, even if it is just a bit. It has happened. Though the images of destruction stays fresh in their minds, those who were left behind have no other recourse but to rebuild their lives on whatever little is left in their hands. For now, it is best to grieve their loss. But come tomorrow, though encumbered with a heavy heart, they must start anew and begin the journey towards a new life.

Disasters, like every other trial, brings out the best and worst in people. In what could be considered as the second greatest tragedy that hit their country since the World War II, the  Japanese people have proven the moral solidarity ingrained in the unflagging discipline, which their culture is renowned for. Unlike other countries struck with the same dismal fate, anarchy did not ensue in Japan. Even if they are stripped with everything, even the bare necessities for survival, their discipline and concern for their fellowmen regardless of their individual conditions remained intact. There was no looting, no murders, no senseless acts of violence driven by madness and selfishness--to think that history has painted a bad portrait of the Japanese people as merciless torturers during the height of the World War II.

There is no denying that they have caused many to suffer during that dark age in our  world history. But what we are seeing now is a direct contrast to that shadowed image. And as i read on, i couldn't help but smile. In the worst of circumstances, the best in the Japanese people shone through. Truly commendable. Very admirable.

Let us continue praying for the Japanese people and the world at large. I know i would.

Writing, like painting and illustrating, is among the greatest loves of my life. I write for the sake of writing. The desire to spill my heart and soul through the words springing forth from my mind fuels me. I am indifferent to money...Or even fame. It would be hypocritical to say that i do not toy with the fantasy of becoming a renowned author in the near future though. I do. But the desire to claim glory is remote compared to that driving need to hone my craft so as to better share myself through my God-given ability with words. And with this, i would wield my hand's might with images to give visual form to the emotions and thoughts they represent. My thirst for words and images seems insatiable. The biggest challenge is not coming up with what to write, but overcoming that blockade of anxiety brought on by my insecurities. I can write--that is apparent. But write well and as well as possible? This, as with all the other mysteries of life that have haunted me, has always been "the nagging question with an ever-elusive answer. "

I want to believe that I can. I am trying hard to instill in my mind that i am an excellent writer, in as much the same way that i am an excellent artist. I know i have it in me to be one, but unlike my natural ability for images, my confidence in my ability to wield words is not as full. I do hope and fervently pray that it is. But i know that i have to work harder to make this reality--or at least convince myself that it is so, or i am capable of making it so. Building my power with words is an ongoing and uphill battle. Though it is not at all hard for me to conjure the words befitting whatever idea i want to express, that critical voice at the back of my mind, never ceasing to question if i'm using the best ones or what, fails not to hinder the flow of my creative spirit.

Yet, i adamantly refuse to be overpowered. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not ever. That critical voice has to be shut up right this very minute. I won't let it rob me of my valuable opportunity to share myself with the world and delight myself at the same time. The right to write is mine. Writing is the beating of my heart. To inhibit my desire to  write is just as good as stifling my thinking, thus putting an end to this deplorable existence once and for all. If i cease to write, i cease to think. With this, i cease to live. It is that simple.

And i want to live...

I've always loved Paulo Coelho. He reminds me so much of my moderator--calm, wise, profound, and very truthful. Even if he isn't aware that i exist and admire his mind, i look up to him as a mentor. From the very first time i read about him and got hold of his book The Alchemist, i've been drawn to him. Undeniably, he is one of the greatest thinkers of our time. Though i've only read four of his novels, i have fully imbibed every lesson he wove into each one. And although i am not able to religiously follow his blog, time and time again  i would be featuring some of his entries here as part of my reflection exercise.

Ideal Conditions

The ideal conditions that you are looking for don’t exist. We shall never be able to get rid of certain defects. The trick is to know that despite all your flaws you are an extraordinary person.

Yes, you know very well but try to go beyond the limits that you are used to – for ten minutes a day – be that person you have always wanted to be. If the problem is shyness, stimulate conversation. If the problem is guilt, feel approved. If you think that the world ignores you, try consciously to attract everyone’s looks. You will experience the occasional difficult situation, but it’s worth it.

If for ten minutes a day you can manage to be what you dreamed, you are already making great progress.

(Source: http://paulocoelhoblog.com/2011/02/01/reality/)

If only...

I guess this is one of the most popular phrases that crosses everyone's mind every once so often. "If only I were so and so, I would be like this and like that." We never run out of the proverbial "ideal conditions" which we set for ourselves based on our individual preferences. And these conditions are what would set the stage for the fulfillment of our dreams. But the big questions is: "Can these ideal conditions exist on their own without our interference?"

I don't think so. Whether we acknowledge it or not, there is no way we can turn our dreams into reality if we refuse to do anything about them. Wishing is never enough. But if we want something so bad, unconsciously we eventually motivate ourselves to get moving towards fulfilling it. There is a big difference between imagining these ideal conditions and then feeling remorseful that the universe has not set them before us like food on a silver platter, and thinking about them in a way that we envision them to become real in the not so distant future. 

Doing the latter fuels our drive, albeit our knowledge. In envisioning the most ideal conditions to set the stage for accomplishing our dreams or getting what we want sans the pathetic remorse, we condition our minds to get moving. Before we know it, we are already doing concrete measures to make these ideal conditions real. From here onwards, everything will just come our way without our noticing it.  "The universe conspires to fulfill the hopes of the dreamer who seriously puts his mind and heart into his dreams." Why? Because dreaming with one's heart and mind pushes him or her to work towards making things happen. 

Like what Coelho had suggested, we can start out little by little, taking it one day at a time. In fact, he suggested allotting only 10 minutes a day, making no more than whatever measure is possible given our individual circumstance. Following his advice, in due time 10 minutes would increase to 20 then 30 and so on and so forth. With this, our efforts would likewise escalate until such time that we are already dedicating ourselves fully towards fulfilling our dreams, thus we have already succeeded in actualizing our ideal conditions. 

Coelho is right. Ideal conditions do not exist. They wouldn't exist unless we make it possible for them to do so.

Today, I sit here in the comfort of this tiny room i share with my friend(and mom during weekdays), spilling my thoughts on this blog while i force myself to eat all of the salty meat fritata my mom gave me along with half a cup of rice. Feeling a little bit better than yesterday and the day before that despite a still-clogged nose and an inflamed throat, again i have absented myself from work today. I called in sick as early as 5:30 in the morning and then spent some time  relaying instructions to my trainee via sms and over the phone. 

Since this is the first day of February, today's absence would be my first sick leave for the month. But considering the other three absences i had last January, i've already accumulated a total of four absences, all of them sick leaves. 
Honestly, i just used the first two absences to idle around our tiny room here; resting, reading, and sleeping the day away. Before the end of 2010, i got information from our HR that i still had 13 vacation leaves to consume. I just do not know up to when i could use them given that a new set of leaves would be made available in what was then the coming year, which is now 2011. And since our leaves--both vacation and sick leaves, a total of 24 for the duration of an entire work year--are no longer convertible to cash should we opt not to use them, i guess that leaves us with no other reasonable option than to do otherwise, if only for the sake of being fair to ourselves. 

But given the workload i've had since June of last year, it was impossible to do that. I had to sacrifice which i did, especially because my supervisor had succumbed to stress after my then-officer dropped a bomb,  when she resigned immediately without so much as an explanation or a last word. He managed to pull through; I did the same, too. 

On a positive note, setting aside the fact that i had to swallow the unfairness of shouldering the workload of three or four writers at once, i was able to prove to myself that the miracle worker, a term my moderator had coined for me several years back referring to my surprising ability to deliver well despite unthinkable odds,  is still very much alive in me. I thought i have somehow lost some, if not most, of that ability. But to my surprise and delight, I was proven wrong. 

In fact(and thank God for that), I can very well say that i am better than ever. The miracle worker is very much alive and well and raring to seize the day as always. Though i may not have been given any career advancement, let alone a salary increase,  for my heroic and altruistic efforts, i obtained a personal satisfaction from realizing that i could still push myself to the limits without buckling from the pressure. 

Okay, so i tend to freak out every now and then. So shoot me, after all, I am still very human in every perceivable context. But that hardly did anything to affect the quality of my work or slow me down. Rather than dampen my enthusiasm, I was even more spurred to forge ahead and accomplish the task at hand. The intermittent freak-out episodes were merely manifestations of the intense energy surge in me, as i tackled one workload after another like crazy. I was a writing/editing monster on the loose, and if i were working at the publishing house still, it would not have surprised me at all to realize that i also had to do my own set of illustrations for whatever manuscript i was working on. 

I am madly in love with my work. 

Be it writing, editing, illustrating, painting, designing, or even teaching; that nameless energy , the relentless drive to just give my all and lose myself in the challenge, is consuming and irresistible at the same time. The distinctive feeling of that energy rushing through my head and permeating every part of me is intoxicating and addictive, giving me a mental high like no other. The moment I get started, there is no stopping me. Immediately, i change from this dreamy girl-woman to one mean working machine, charging onwards without question, a bullet train keen on reaching its destination despite the odds. Early on, as young as 18, i have allowed myself to be severely trained for professional work. And it was downright hard. Not the kind of hurdle anyone could imagine an innocent-faced, naive lass would and could manage to take on. I was trained to become a bull-headed career bitch, expected to grow fangs and claws and bare them with aplomb. 

Yes, I definitely developed an edge. I found myself, mastered most of my weaknesses, and learned the value of responsibility and leadership. Then after miraculously making it through the training in one piece(and in flying colors as my moderator had said),  i decided that i was not cut out for the cut-throat, frenetic world of advertising. It would be hypocrisy to say that i didn't find it flattering to be told that i had the attitude and talent required to become one hell of a bull-headed career bitch. Yet through it all, i chose to live peacefully and content myself with my natural passion for what i do without having to kick asses or battle my way to corporate success. Though naturally competitive, i loathe competitions. Moreover, i can't stand work politics. I know i can learn anything i put my mind and heart to, yet i deliberately shied away from computer graphics, satisfying myself with the innate creative prowess of the God-given mind and hands i am fortunately blessed with.

I thought i could live in my own protective bubble forever, slaving away happily oblivious to whatever going-ons there may be in the workplace. So long as i am happy and doing what i do best, the world is right where it should be. But hard work, sacrifice, and passion do not account for anything in the eyes of most company administrations. If someone is foolish enough to give more without asking for due compensation or even appreciation, they would be more than glad to accept it without even the slightest hint of a pending incentive or recognition. I don't want to think that all bosses are cold-hearted and uncaring. I don't want to think that after all i've done they still think i am dispensable and could be replaced easily. 

The emotional stress brought about by these realizations and pondering has gotten hold of me. This might explain why i've been so sickly these days, to think that i took pains in acquiring and maintaining a healthy lifestyle comprised of a veggie diet complete with vitamin supplements and regular workouts at the gym. And yet, no matter how these thoughts bother me every night before falling asleep, everything dissolves into nothingness the minute i sit in front of my pc at the office and begin working. 

I already said it once and i'm saying it again, "I am madly in love with my work."

I could only care less about work politics or what my bosses are thinking. I can forget about the injustice of not getting paid rightfully the moment my fingers touch the keyboard. It hurts to be treated unfairly, but the pain dissolves every time i lose myself in the tasks at hand. So great is my love for my work that I have become numb to everything else. I just wonder: "Until when can my love for my work keep me sheltered from reality?"  

Though trained to be a bull-headed professional bitch, i couldn't be happier that i did not transform into one. Actually, i am adamant never to become one. I want to remain the honest, hardworking creative that i've always been. I am what i am--a straightforward, no-nonsense, passionate writer and artist whose heart is directly aligned with her head. If i want to get ahead of the game, i would do so through my dedication and honesty evident in the quality of my output and nothing else. Making career changes by seeking employment elsewhere is not the answer for now. Losing my mind by lashing out emotionally, bad-mouthing my superiors in my blog like what one of my colleagues had done, is the worst and most idiotic move i would never ever make. It's enough that i spill my sentiments here without going overboard and resorting to mindless histrionics. Thus, out of the need to make a concrete move to claim justice, i talked to my supervisor and appealed  for a raise. He complied readily. 

He keeps me updated about it--his way of saying that he is working on it. I am appreciated after all. I just hope that my other big bosses realize how hard i've worked and give me what is due to me. Though they can choose to be blind and deaf to everything, blocking out the presence of those who have dedicated themselves to their causes, i know and i'm sure that God would not abandon me and let their indifference swallow me whole. Unusual as it seems, love for my work suffices to keep me afloat. It may not sustain my survival forever, but for now it will do.