Coaching

every swirl of smoke carries memories

He asked me to log out from the phone and it's not yet my break. For most, offline time is good because it's either we'll have training or a team meeting. It's a good breather from talking but coaching is not very common for me. I have never been asked to stop taking calls in the middle of the shift because I am the team's top performer. My Team Lead always tells everyone that I have good soft skills, I am efficient, I always get the most number of commendations. So today, I wonder why I have been pulled out for coaching. I approached TL's station and he gave me a pleasant smile. That was somewhat a relief but then he motioned me to follow him to the smoking area although he knows that I have quit smoking a year ago. There was just the two of us and all I could hear was the distant chatter and honking of cars. It was still silent and a lot of questions popped out of my head and so I asked:

"TL, sorry, but I really can't help but ask. Why do you have to coach me here at the smoking area? I've never seen you smoke before. I didn't realize that what I've done stressed you out a lot. I am sorry."

I waited for an answer but then he started to light one stick and puffed. He looked at me as if he's about to burst out laughing. That was the first time that I have seen him like that. 

"It's not because of that. Chill." he responded. He looked at me with assurance. I felt a bit relieved after that but then it didn't stop me from asking.

"Then why?"


"Well, it's like this: whenever I smoke I lose an hour of my life."

TL is pretty straightforward. If your performance sucks, he'll tell you right away. If you are good, you'll get the recognition that you deserve. He tries to be subtle and I have noticed that a couple of times but every time he does, he still fails so he must have settled for keeping that tit for tat attitude towards coaching. Tonight though, I am befuddled by him. He must have noticed that I can't really figure out what he's trying to imply.   

"I said, every time I smoke one stick of cigarette, an hour of my life goes to waste. I puff it into nicotine cloud swirls and then it dissolves in thin air. Let's just say that I don't want an hour of my life to be wasted so instead of just smoking it out for nothing, I spend it on making someone realize that I am willing to spare my 60 minutes for their improvement"

"I still do not understand"

"Never mind. You'll see what I mean. Probably, someday. Let's go." He threw away the stick of cigarette that he just finished smoking.

"What? Your place?" I felt dumbfounded and provoked at the same time. I hate it when people beat around the bush and involve me in little emotional puzzles so I stopped walking as if demanding for a black and white answer just to wipe out the gray areas inside my head.

"You've just been promoted and this is our last coaching because starting next week, you'll have your own team."

From being a bit agitated, I felt enervated. So that's what he wanted to tell me. I didn't mess up or anything and I've gotten what I have always wanted. Call it separation anxiety but I also felt the need to be with him after that coaching session. Next week will be a whole lot different for me and I just wish that he'll still have the time to spend a stick for me if need be. 

Bitchlapse

let it go, beetcheez. the cold won't bother us anyway. 

I used to hate Mo Twister because of all the things that I heard and read about him. Like, we all know how Philippine media can either destroy someone to smithereens with their alleged facts and how they can build a hero out of a college slut or a messiah out of a thief. I was one of the many people who were too quick to judge just because others told me this and that--and I am guilty of being too reckless when it comes to my blurting my opinion about something or someone. However, if there's one opinion or should I say realization (damn, it's as if I am about to write or say something life-changing) that I would be willing to bet my balls on, that would be my epiphany that Mo Twister is a great guy misunderstood by many. Let me just clarify though that even if I think of him as a wonderful person, I do not consider him as a role model for the youth nor my all-time idol. He has his imperfections as a man, as a friend, as a lover, and as a person. It just so happened that he's so open to the idea of sharing his glitches and the nonsensical things that he used to do and is still doing which, I think, is not an acceptable behavior in our pretentious society and culture of  morality makeshifts. I've never met Mo, I never want to meet him and have a fangirl moment with him on Instagram and, hell, probably I will not have a chance to see him because he's living in the other side of the planet but I guess I don't really need to have a close encounter with him just to prove my claim that he's an admirable person. Need some proof so support my judgment?  Here are the top 3:

*He thinks before he speaks but most people still think that he's tactless. Well, yes, he may have had his moments of too much candor and carelessness but he would still be able to save himself from his own blunders. He talks fast and he thinks fast unlike other guys that I know who would just blabber hogwash without even using their brain or noticing that their fly is open already. Mo's more on conversation which most women find sexy and most men find annoying. Well, because I am gay I am entitled to have a different insight on his talkativeness so for me, Mo's eighty-words-per-minute habit is a cute manifestation of urban erudition and practical eloquence. The gift of gab isn't something that's common. Others in showbiz claim that they are the kings and queens of talk but damn, for me all they make is noise. Empty, trashy, noise. 

*Mo notices what most of us are hesitant to notice and tells us the naked truth about it and about us: we're all hypocrites. He has accused male celebs as gays, he may have called someone an overrated singer, or revealed dark secrets about reputable personalities and most people who are protecting the so-called morality of our media and society reacted in a violent way by trash-writing and calling Mo as an immoral jerk who seeks scads of public attention. But I wonder why people still keep on listening to him? Why despite all the negative publicity his radio shows and podcasts still has the best rankings? Well, for me it's because we are all a bunch of verbal voyeurs. We take pleasure in talking about other people's lives and we crave for more that's why we gossip with other people to validate our judgments. Like, if we suspect that someone is gay, we stalk his Facebook or Twitter account to find out the answer to our 10-million glitter question. Once we have discovered the truth, we'll start to criticize and ostracize the person because we feel like we deserve some form of reward or recognition for enlightening everyone with the truth. What we do is really much worse than what Mo is doing. Mo assumes and he doesn't really judge. He's just after knowing and realizing the truth behind other people's lives. He may sound like a dick and he may even laugh like a dickhead but after that and after his show, he won't really care whether someone's gay or whether someone's capable of performing auto-fellatio. I don't really get the idea of those celebrities who would react like they've been abused or something just because Mo made them the topic of the show. For all I know, you should even thank Mo and his cohorts for giving you free publicity. And, besides, you won't be the subject of ridicule is you do not make yourself sound and look ridiculous most of the time. I guess what I am saying in particular is if you are gay then let other people think what they want to think about you. Don't fool yourself and your fans by saying this and that about manliness and being straight while wearing three layers of MAC foundation and posting a lot of your half-naked selfies on IG and FB. Dear, only gay guys like me would have the guts to do that but because you've been telling the world that you are not homo then fine. I'll support you but I can't really assure you that Mo will do the same thing. 

*Though not very obvious, Mo is a perfect gentleman striving to survive in this era where chivalry is zombified. True that he has sex videos and he labels women as bitches and whores incessantly but when it comes to protecting the women he loves, he's a champ. For example, when he was asked to name the Magic 899 DJs what he had slept with in the past, he had a hard time in namedropping mainly because he knew that although he slept with these women, they are also his friends and that what he will say might affect the quiet lives of these women. He was gentleman enough to name just one out of the three and then end of discussion. If he were a total jerk, he would have listed not just the Magic 899 DJs but also the other girl jocks from other stations and brag that he that lady jocks are all worshiping his undies and fantasizing about his hidden wealth between his thighs. He had the chance but he never did that. Salute to all misunderstood dorks. 

Probably even God knows that we have our wild side, that we cuss in whispers and we accuse someone else's mother as chief whore whenever we are shocked or during an orgasm but that doesn't automatically earn us a one-way ticket to hell because we have also done a lot of good things in past. There's not one person who's extremely nefarious and in the same vein, there's not one human being who can be nominated as the newest addition to heaven's retinue of archangels. We commit mistakes, we think and say bad things about other people and that's the truth--we are just too shy to admit it. However, for some people like Mo, they don't really give a damn if they've been seen dead drunk after a party or they've been heard saying all sorts of curses. What sets Mo apart from us is his bravado to tell us and the others that we are all making ourselves fragile to our own deceptive tactics. We make ourselves believe that what is right is doing what most people think is right. Like, wake up and smell the 21st century. We have smartphones, iPhone, and the Information Superhighway and God tells us to enjoy life. I think it's the only commandment that he has: Live your life like nobody else can because that's my gift. Mo's living his life so I think we must all do the same thing, bitches.  

Rant About a Reckless Rant

pauline: oh my look at that! a call center agent.

rafael: pity her stupid bi*tch.

tj: haha, right pare. getting paid for using her mouth for 8 hours.

camille: her inglishing is nat guuud as meyn. deym.

I am a writer by diploma and I am a BPO trainer by profession too so I think this kind of insult to the industry that kept me and my family alive for almost five years after accomplishing a college degree is highly offensive.

Most of us may not have a college degree but hell, our job is far more difficult than what most white-collar workers are doing. Contrary to what most people think, we don't just answer calls. We analyze, we research, we use logic, we calculate, we multitask, we use critical thinking and, whether you believe it or not, we engage in intellectual discussions during training and sometimes even while we're talking to US/UK/Australian customers so I think this shameful display of creative recklessness has no basis and it will not be in any way acceptable to me as a Filipino viewer and as a writer.

For the benefit of the writers and the other people who think just like them, I will not challenge anyone to venture into the BPO industry just for the purpose of research (just like what most people who reacted to this issue did). Instead, I will not encourage anyone. Our line of work is just for people who are careful with what they say and write. Now if you are the kind of person who will just type away in order to finish your job and end your day or blabber hogwash just to kill that awkward dead air in an argument or a regular dialogue, then our PROFESSION is not for you.

For the producers and the marketing staff of the show, best of luck in finding sponsors. Just in case you are not aware, some of the biggest local companies are also tied up with BPOs. Better start figuring out an effective strategy to promote the show.

For local teleplay writers, well, is there anything I can help you with?

A Chase and A Thousand Encounters

Lightning slashed the moonless sky. It momentarily exposed what was in it: an antediluvian dresser gnawed by termites, a plastic chair embellished with spider webs, an unkempt folding bed inhabited by cockroaches and mice. October winds forced its way through the rusted window screen. The tempest was coming. They crawled on all fours, feeling with their palms and knees the damp and mossy floor of the abandoned lodge. They avoided bumping into things that would disrupt the sangfroid atmosphere inside the room. Their eyes, this time, were useless. All they depended on was intuition. They rested their weary backs against the wall, smelled their sweat and touched their fresh wounds. They both panted, felt enervated after long hours of relentless running. He suddenly held her hand. She squeezed his palm and they succumbed to the blankness.

His first encounter with her was during the rally of the abantes at Mendiola. Her image was a contrast to the crowd of bronze-skinned and emaciated women. Her complexion was glowing though she was already ruddy because of the heat. She had an aquiline nose and mermaid curls. He saw her earlier while she was having a boodlefight lunch with the other abantes. She did not mind the soiled hands scooping the pile of steamy rice. She did not complain of allergies or did not show any sign of disgust of the sardinas. She embraced the noontime sun. She played with the almost naked street children. He admired what he saw behind his camera.

He tried to sense if someone was lurking outside. But there was only the sound of the gushing wind and the violent rustling of the cogon grass. The seemingly safe state was suspicious and most of the time, for them, it manifested greater perils. 
He remembered the encounter earlier today: The men in fatigue uniforms spotted them on their way to the kapitolyo .They were recognized. Fortunately, they brought their guns with them, so they were able to defend themselves. They were able to escape. He wrapped her in his sinewy arms. Their eyes were getting used to the darkness. His smile was vaguely sketched but it told her that with him, she was safe. As she snuggled in his arms, she fondled with her wooden rosary inside her pocket.

They were formally introduced to each other when she visited Hospicio Sam Miguel. She was cuddling a three-year old orphan when she noticed a well-built man with almond eyes and wavy hair. He was taking pictures of her. The first thing that entered her mind was he was probably a member of the government’s intelligence unit. Since the passage of the president’s new law on terrorism, abantes like her had been stigmatized as terrorists. She remembered what happened to her two fellow abantes who were abducted while they were doing research in a farming community in Bulacan. She felt odd paroxysms of rage for the man though she knew she must not because the man had not shown any harmful or doubtful motives. It was purely irrational and senseless, she thought so she approached Ka Miriam, the head of the abantes, to ask about the man. Ka Miriam wrinkled her forehead and dragged her to where the man was standing.

“ Steven, I want you to meet Almira del Cerna, one of our newest members. Almira, this is Steven Cere, photographer and journalist. He is doing a documentary about us.”

Four in the afternoon, it was time to leave the Hospicio. The abantes were all preparing to leave when some nuns approached them to distribute wooden rosaries, their humble token of appreciation.

The sound of the rustling leaves was soporific. His eyelids were getting heavy but he knew that it was not a good time to sleep. In the life that they had chosen, sleeping is letting Death crawl under your skin. Her eyes were closed but he knew that she was just half asleep. He maintained vigilance and he knew that she was also trying really hard not to give in to her exhaustion. He ran his fingers on the fresh laceration on his forehead which he got earlier when he bumped his head on a rock. With the night that they're going to face, he realized that pain will be an indispensable motivation to stay awake.

His encounter with Almira and the abantes became often. From his conversations with Almira, he found out that she was a daughter of a businessman. Almira often tells him how she loathed the life which she was born into. She also told him how her mother was gunned down by one of her envious amigas after winning a game of mahjong. She witnessed the decadence of her kind and since then she promised to herself that she would not let herself be contaminated by the evils of the high life . She joined the abantes when she decided to quit school at Ateneo during her junior year. She was a Philosophy major and although she was educated in Ateneo, she found her home in UP where she met Ka Miriam and the other abantes. He admired the girl for leaving her well-off life, for having the courage to be one of the abantes, for having sturdy principles. They became good friends, “sitsirya” buddies, they call themselves because during rallies, they would go to one corner and eat “sitsirya” while discussing their ideals and their lives before constantly being with the movement. All was well with their friendship until he found out that Almira hurriedly left for Davao. He asked Ka Miriam about the details of her trip but Ka Miriam was stern and she did not let him know where Almira was and what she was doing. He left the headquarters of the abantes feeling an unexplained emptiness.

She opened her eyes, she noticed he was staring blankly into to the darkness. Blood dripped from his forehead. She wiped off the scarlet drips on his cheek with her hand. He kissed her forehead.

He was assigned to cover a story about illegal logging in Sariaya. It was a project rejected by his colleagues because according to them, Sariaya was like the Basilan of Luzon, reporters get abducted in that area or worse, they get caught in the crossfire between the military and the NPA. His brother, who was his only family, was against his bold decision. Before he left he even had an argument with his brother over the phone. In the end, he prevailed and his brother, as usual, just advised him to take care. After five hours of “habal-habal” ride, he reached the site where he was greeted by toppled and chopped trees. He started to take pictures. The habal driver stayed with him for a while but it did not take long when their welcoming committee arrived. Some men came wearing military attire and one of them grabbed his camera. He was startled. His colleagues were telling the truth when they told him that even the military cannot be trusted in Sariaya. His stubborn journalistic flair was so strong that he tried to snatch back his camera. But after that, another group emerged out of the woods. They were dressed like peasants and they were armed too. He ducked to protect himself from the exchange of bullets between the two forces. During the encounter he noticed that not all the peasants with gun were men. One of them was a woman. Her head was wrapped by a shirt and she wore glasses, probably to conceal her face and gender. He was still ducked when some peasant men took him away from the crossfire. With a blow on his nape, he lost consciousness and when he woke up, Almira’s face smiled at him She was not in Davao all this time.

He lost his battle with sleep.When he woke up, the weak gray morning light and the restless sounds of rain and wind filled the room. He woke her up and they both witnessed the room’s clutter; the dresser, the folding bed, the chair and the other articles like the broken lampshade, stray plastic bags, damp and mold-infested clothes, moths resting on busted fluorescent bulb on the ceiling, frolicking lizards on the walls and stray ferns and vines growing on out from the cracks on the wall. He helped her stand and walk towards the wooden door. She had a fracture on her feet so it was difficult for her to walk. He assisted her until they reached the rickety makeshift ladder. They were about to leave the lodge which served as their sanctuary for a night so he checked his gun. For three months of joining Almira in the samahan, he always does that. There was a typhoon and its wrath had just begun. The violent wind played with the falling rain and they walked outside the lodge until they got soaked in water. They walked, not minding the danger of being caught by the lesser gods of the militia. Now, all they have in mind is this chance to escape.

Fragments

These are only fragments. Stories that have not taken shape. Thoughts that failed to live. Cycles that started but never ended. 

Been so out of focus on writing lately so I guess these are episodic manifestations that I am still a writer.


Backstage (Impromptu)

Y: So what's next after your disappearance?

X: Why do you have to ask that question? We both know that I can either leave memories of love or destruction depending on my mood and the kind of audience I have.

Y: Okay...and what does your mood tell you about our audience?

X: Deary, answering your questions now'll just ruin the surprise. Just watch and enjoy the fireworks. Or, should I say, just the fire and everything that'll burn with it. Now give me my cape and wear your suit. We'll start the final act. 


And This Happens Most of The Time

GF: *chatters* *chatters* *chatters*

BF: *nods absentmindedly*

GF: Are you even listening to me?

BF: *raises an eyebrow*

GF: *pauses* *throws her purse* I just hate it when people do not listen to me because, for the record, I try not to fake listening whenever someone's talking. For me, regardless of how you look like or your status, or your grammar I will still try my very best to listen to what you have to say because that was what I was taught so please do the same thing to me, will you?

BF: Babe, I am a sentient being. I can't easily shut off my senses or feign comatose at my own will so yes, I have been listening to you it's just that when you walked into the room, you have filled this place with so much beauty and grace and elegance. Please understand that guys like me have short attention spans--and nobody taught us to be like that. It's probably an evolutionary glitch. So, when you started talking I was not able to focus because, geez, I was stunned by your presence.

GF: Aw, that's really sweet. Come here babe. So, because you've been listening to me and you are the sweetest guy on earth, you'll get me one of those...

BF: *pretends to check his wristwatch* Woooh! I have a basketball game and I am late. See you later, babe. Got to go.  

Breakfast
(disclaimer: not me and my mom.)

Mom: I have a strong feeling that you are enraged again for not getting what you want, my son. Coffee?

Son: Am I that obvious? Yes, with less cream this time. Hmm, the bacon is well toasted. Love it.

Mom: Just like what you asked for. Well, if I were just one of your friends, I would not have the slightest idea that you are concocting another mischief. But that's not the case. I am your mother. I can read your sighs, your smiles, your silences. I have somewhat created a mental encyclopedia of your moods and pet peeves. You have a mastered the art of deception so well but your skills won't work on me. So, tell me, what's bothering you?

Son: Why do you have to ask? I thought you already know everything about me? I want more hash browns please.

Mom: Here. I have reserved the toasted ones for you. Dear, silly me! Oh well, whatever you are planning to do just make sure that there will not be too much bloodshed and tears. I am too old and weary of cleaning up your mess and please spare those who need to be spared. Gain control of your self. You're a grown man now.

Son: Wow, thanks Mom. Really appreciate it. I'll still be squeaky clean after everything. Promise. I'll finish my sandwich on my way to work. Got to go.
 

Whirlwind Season

While some are either brewing thoughts about the apocalypse or busy collecting stickers, some are concocting word wars over coffee, health magazines, damp sneakers, and old planners.
 
Inside a coffee shop, Hunky Jerk approached Guy Writer who was very busy browsing the pages of a classic novel.

"Hey hot nerd! I am a lover of words too but if there's one word that I hate, it would probably be this word: waiting. Two syllables, three vowels, three consonants- the perfect ingredient to bring out the devil in me. I easily get what I want and because I want you, I know that I can easily get you. Let's get outta here and go somewhere. Can't wait to show you the poetry underneath my shirt."

Guy Writer paused before he drank his coffee. He looked at Hunky Jerk with wide eyes and knitted eyebrows then, he gradually smirked. 

"Is that so? That's funny. I am a lover of words too and I think..." Guy Writer paused for a very long time as if he just released a brain fart that could stink for an eternity.
 
"What?! You think what?"



Guy Writer  just stared blankly into space then looked at his laptop then to his cellphone then to Hunky Jerk. Hunky Jerk scratched the back of his head then eventually said:
 
"What? You know what, I am starting to think that you are trying to piss me off. Well, you've done it bro. I'm gonna bounce outta here."
 
"Wait...I've something to say..."
 
"For the effin' nth time, what is it?"
 
"I was about to say that I think I like you but then I changed my mind. You know, I just realized that I hate the word "impatience". Five vowels, five consonants, three syllables-the only recipe to remind me that sometimes, I can be a bitch. Bye. And oh, please learn to wait. "




Guy Writer scribbled something on his coffee tumbler, gathered his stuff,and left.
Hunky Jerk took Guy Writer's seat and comfortably leaned his back. He stayed for about an hour but before he left, he saw Guy Writer's empty tumbler on top of the table. Hunky Jerk picked it and took a closer look at it. He noticed Guy Writer's note and it said: 

I've been waiting for someone like you, jerk. Here's my no: 09*********. 

Whether it's a prank, an innocent offer of friendship or a late and unnoticed notice to hook up, it made Hunky Jerk smile.

Fortunate Accidents

my mom forgot to log out from facebook after using my lappy so when i tried to access my fb account, i accidentally accessed her profile instead. read: i did not hack her account. she just forgot to log out so i took advanta...i mean, i made the most out of the situation. anyway, my mom's kinda prude and prissy so there's really nothing juicy when i checked her profile activity. again, read: i didn't check her messages. 

as i was saying there's really nothing fascinating or intriguing about her posts (geez, she doesn't even have a lot of posts/status updates). however, she's facebook friends with most of our relatives who i opted not to add as friends on fb for the mere reason that i don't want them to meddle with my life. sounded a bit mean there but that's true. i've had that weird cyber fishbowl feeling when i still had friendster. i don't want them to wreck my online social life for the 2nd time and so, again, i took the liberty to facebook-stalk my relatives (and my sisters. haha). here's what i realized:

*i've grown distant from my guy cousins who treated me as their least favorite cousin when we were younger because of my early penchant for books and nature over counter strike and wwf. i feel like if ever there's a family reunion, i will still be the outcast in the bunch of boys because first, i don't have or i've never had girlfriend quarrel stories or wifey anecdotes to share and two, i am not yet suffering from hair loss. peace. for the record, my guy cousins are really awesome.

*my girl cousins are now moms and they have beautiful kids but i have no intention of befriending them or their husbands or my nieces and nephews. i've sensed too much family drama and domestic divaness on their posts. my newsfeed is too hip and vibrant (thanks to my few fb friends) and i want to keep it that way. again, peace. my girl cousins are really caring and sweet.

*my uncles and aunts are all too busy to check facebook and update their posts so i'd rather give the fb friend space to some friends who can regularly update their status. besides, my aunts and uncles may be silent on fb but probably when they see me i will hear a lot of rants and raves from them about random topics that i am clueless about. 

*my sisters are claiming that they are extreme opposites but there's just too much glaring similarities in all of their posts. one way or another, they've been fangirling the same kpop stars. they are both grade-conscious and they won't miss the opportunity to...ehem...brag their academic achievements. though they're both wonderful, they don't have boyfie posts or pics. matter of fact, they have bullied some boys who attempted to be "a lil closer" to them. most of their posts have exclamation marks for reasons that i can't explain.  some of their posts are in jejenese. all of their selfie shots were taken using my phone and edited using camera360. but the best thing about them is that they show care for each other even on facebook. like, there was one time my younger sister posted a selfie and my youngest sister was quick in liking the pic and posting this comment: "ate, malaki ilong mo dito tsaka halata yung pimple marks mo." the photo wasn't removed despite that comment. i guess it was because the pic gained a lot of likes. 

it was really hard for me to log out my mom's fb account because i felt like there's still a lot for me to discover through her profile. but i guess my guilt instinct signaled me to stop because i am technically committing a petty crime which is invasion of privacy. anyhow, there's one more thing that i have realized: over the years, i have grown and i have been alienated from my family not because they have pushed me away but because i have chosen to isolate myself to focus on self-improvement. so now, i think it's high time to make up for the lost years because even if i can add numerous facebook friends, follow a lot of people on instagram or tag random names on twitter, my relationship with them can never be like the one that i have with my family. my sisters will not unfriend me forever if they find out i have a boyfriend, my relatives will not unfollow me whenever i need urgent help, and most of all, my mom will not block me if there's just too much stress and drama going on. whatever my status is, my family will always be there until such time that i would need to log out.

sleepless saturday, fulfilling sunday :)