Sunday, November 13, 2011

BIR Experiences. What should I expect?

This is one of my most-hate part of landing / getting a new job- completing pre-employment requirements. I hate the medical examination, I hate the NBI application, I hate almost everything. So to cut the story short- which was ruined by hassling getting-this and getting-that- I have gone to BIR RDO 43-A (LOL!)

I was there at around 4:00PM. There were three allocated desks which service general inquiries like mine- getting TIN Card. The Security Guard handed me number 48. Since it was just my first time going on that kinda place- which smells like a publishing house- I asked Manong Guard 'Kuya what is this for po?' and he answered "Ay para po yan sa number ninyo. Tingin lang po kayo dun sa may number na red and you will know if it's your turn." and I was like "Okay. Thanks." So I filled out a form and headed to the waiting lounge- luckily they have.

On the waiting lounge, I saw pile of people waiting for their number to be prompted on the monitor positioned on top of the three desks which I have mentioned earlier. I was holding number 48 whereas the number prompted at that time was just number two. I would have to wait for 46 more peeps to finish before my turn. So I glanced and looked around. At first sight, you will notice a heaps of paper scattered everywhere. There are so many things which will make you uncomfortable with that place. The smell is so loathsome. Yes it has AC but with that volume of people, it does nothing.

So came 4:58PM, and two more minutes they were about to close the operation, the number prompting has stopped. It has prompted number 47 for almost 10 minutes. I was in a big disappointment at that time and I could no longer hold it back. In my mind, I had almost cursed the three clerks who did nothing but put stamps on papers. I felt so disconcerted that I knew I had to do something. I did not go there just to be advised to go back on Monday- since it was Friday when I went there. So I gazed the whole vicinity and something was not right. This girl, who kept on going back for whatever her reasons was, caught my attention. She kept on going back to the second clerk. So, with so much animosity and frustration, I stood up. Below is how our conversation fired up the people who witnessed how mad I was. (DISCLAIMER: I am neither happy nor proud about it. It was just a normal reaction coming from someone who feels discombobulated.)

Me: Ma'am excuse me, may I know what number you are holding?
Her: (Searching for a piece of paper inside her cheap bag) 57!
Me: Oh! Okay! So you must know that the number was stuck-up to 47 because of you and I am expected to be seated on the chair you are seating right now. I was provided with number 48 by the guards and was in this place for almost an hour now.
Her: Ooops! I am sorry. I just need to finish this one. (Showing me a rim of form from BIR)
Me: So are you implying that I need to wait and the rest of us here for you to finish before we can be serviced?
Her: No. (Giving me a fierce look)
Me: So do you think I will allow you to be on that seat considering that I have been here waiting for almost an hour now?
Her: No! (Shouting)
Me: With all due respect Ma'am, will you please get out of that chair and wait for your number be prompted on that monitor on top of your head?
Her: You are rude!
Me: Good thing your brain was able to generate an adjective that best describes how I treated someone as dumb as you that even numbers 1-48 does not know.

And she walked away with so much frustration and side comments. And for whoever who is going to read this, we conversed (or should I say "argued") using the English language. Those are the exact words that came out of my lips as far as my audiographic memory can remember. I am so pissed.

Fast-forwarding what happened next and disregarding how the guards consoled me, I sat on the chair where the biatch was sitting. I informed the clerk that I am going to get my TIN Card. So I handed him filled out form.

Clerk: Nagalit kayo dun Sir ah.
Me: Kasi naman simpleng number rules lang hindi pa niya masunod. Anyway, I don't want to talk about it na po. (Handing him my filled out form)
Clerk: Pasensya na Sir ah.
Me: That's fine. It's not even your mistake.
Clerk: Kayo ba ito Sir? (Checking if I had filled out the form correctly) Ah, binata pa pala kayo. Ingat kayo Sir. Mga ganyang hitsura ang habulin.
Me: (Giving him this dumbfounded look) Huh?

And he just smiled.

Sunday, October 30, 2011

My Grown up Christmas List.

So there goes sadness again. It won over happiness. It is driving me to contemplate for another entry on my blog site. As I rummaged for thoughts to blog, I opened You Tube and searched for a back ground song to play while writing. Out of nowhere, a Christmas song has started to play. It made me reminisce all the past Christmases I had.

I asked myself what do I miss whenever the holiday season comes. I started reminiscing and none of them are worth remembering. It was either I am in the office working or at home alone. Suddenly an idea has popped up  out of my mind.


I was, I guess, 4 to 6 years old that time. Christmas was the happiest time of the year for me. Presents, candy canes, gift wrappers, glittered ribbons, tall Christmas trees, entertaining Christmas lights in different colors and styles were everywhere. Streets were filled with different designs of "Parols". Cousins have visited me to exchange gifts. My heart was full of happiness.

It was the 24th of December. Mom prepared foods that are bizarre to my sight. Foods that could only be seen during my birthdays and whenever we attend parties of my playmates. Mom decorated the house. She had rummaged the curtains she only displays once a year. The house was full of excitement and colors which reminded me that it was not just an ordinary day. Mom played a Christmas song. She held me and we danced   like crazy. I saw Mom's heart-pounding joy. I whispered "I wish everyday is a Christmas day"

Pop came home late, I inferred he was drunk. I saw the redness in his face and he was somewhat like mad. Mom greeted him. Pop ignored. I thought there was a problem. Minutes after, I saw Pop screaming. He shouted and gone wild. I saw Mom sobbing. She covered her face so that I would not witness how she cried. Pop continued to shout. He even slapped Mom. At a very young age, I could not comprehend how an impeccable day turned out to be somewhat gruesome. Mom said nothing. She continued to cry while Pop was ranting. I could not do anything but to watch them fighting from afar. I felt so helpless. I felt so despondent. There was a short pause. I heard nothing but the Christmas song being played. Suddenly, a pause was broken by the sound of a falling plates and silver wares. I saw the prepared and cooked foods of Mom scattered on the floor. The place was topsy-turvy. Pop, for the nth time, slapped Mom. She had lost her balance and fell down. I could see Mom crawling and begging Pop to stop. I witnessed her stopped moving. I asked myself "Has she lost her consciousness?"

I saw the bloods scattered everywhere. I witnessed the pain and sufferings. That night was just so horrifying. Tears have fallen down on my eyes. I could not move. I could not think. I could not breathe.

I was awaken by the annoying siren of the ambulance. "What is happening?" I asked someone. Police, bystanders, neighbors, and some relatives were there telling me to just rest. I saw guys in uniform holding something. It was a bed-like thing covered with a white cloth. One by one, they load them inside the ambulance. I looked around. I searched for Mom and Pop. They were not there. I saw my little cousin approaching. She asked me "What did you do? Why did you do that?......." and she was pulled away by her Mom crying. I rested and I slept.

It was 9:30 in the morning when I woke up. I saw gifts and basket of fruits on the table on my left. I saw nothing but the Air Con, a TV set hanged on top of a small window, a big bed to which I was lying, bottled waters and a dextrose thrusted on my left hand. "I am in the hospital!" I confirmed to myself. I shouted Mom's name. No one answered but someone opened the door. It was my Aunt who entered the room. She was crying. I asked her "Why?" but she did not respond. Another man, which I suspected one of the uniformed guys from last night, has entered the room. He said "Merry Christmas!" and smiled.

He asked me if I have had good sleep. I quickly answered "Yes!" and stared at my Aunt. The uniformed guy continued to ask me. He wanted me to remember and narrate what happened last night. I asked where Mom and Pop is. Aunt started to cry and left the room. The guy answered "They are already dead." I did not believe but I cried until I ran out of tears. I asked the uniformed guy "Who killed them?". I was shocked when he answered "You!". "You killed your Father and Mother using this gun" , he added. He was holding a ziploc-like plastic container and inside it was a gun. He started to interrogate me until I began remembering what happened the night before.

"Stop it!" I shouted Pop. "Don't dare get out of your room or you will be in trouble!", he exclaimed. I headed towards Mom  and held her hand. Pop kicked me. He pushed me to their room and locked the door. I was so desperate. I knew I had to help Mom. I was aware how painful she feels that time and that she needs me. I looked for something. I saw Pop's gun inside his mini pedestal. I put it inside my pocket and tried to unlock the door. I got out of the room. I shouted "Pop, stop it! I repeat!" He answered "I said do not go out! You little bastard! I will punish you!" Dad then walked heading on my direction. He was holding a baseball bat. He saw me holding his gun. He begged me to put it down. I remained firm. I cried and accidentally hit the trigger. Dad fell down. A moment of silence was finally observed. The only thing I heard was the song being played. "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire....." 

16 Christmases have passed by. 16 years of tears have gone dry. It was just like yesterday. I can still hear the painful roars of yesteryears.  The perfect yet sorrowful picture of crime is still in my dreams. I can still smell the blood like a breeze. The painful past will never disappear. How many more December 25 should pass? How many more questions to ask? How many more tears should shed? I feel like a corpse. I feel like dead.

20 years of living is like 20 years of suffering. Now, Christmas is about to come. I feel the breeze, I feel the coldness, I feel the sadness, I feel the emptiness. I do not wish for toys, presents, money or anything that money can give and buy. All I wish for is the same Family I used to have and enjoy 16 years ago. This is my grown up Christmas list.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

The happiness that makes me sad..

Emoness.. Yeah! It struck me again.

The past week was one of the crucial week that I had on my entire living in this world. Well, almost every week is crucial but this one is different. I mean really different. I have experienced lots of agony. I have accepted the fact long time ago that things in this world cannot be perfect no matter how hard we try to make it impeccable. I also have accepted the "mere" fact that we, humans, will not be contented despite of the things and happiness that we have. It is only and will only be my friend "Mahatma Gandhi" who possesses that kind of attitude. Going back to my emoness, the last week tested my humanity and the friendships that I gained and earned for almost 19 years of my life. I've been absent for five days last week from March 14- March 19 due to my emoness and not sickness.

Exploring and uncovering the brighter side of each dark side.

I was sitting on a place where different types of people meet and gather. It was a very dreary night. Not the typical night that I know of, not the typical night that we all know of. Just like time, people passed by so fast. They headed to different directions of their emotions. It is a place for fun that suddenly turned into something strange making my emotions weak. Tears fell down and yes! my faith have broken down too. I've seen nothing but just the falling leaves from the nearby tree. People stared at me. They must have noticed me crying. They must have witnessed part of my weakness. It was so theatrical. It was so dramatic. I, indeed, looked so pathetic. With the emptiness in my head, I walked. Nothing's inside my head. Not even my pets, not even my thoughts for blogging, not even my wild sex scenes, not even my love fantasy and most especially, not even myself. I was walking like a corpse. I've felt nothing and heard nothing but just the hum I kept singing in my mind. I felt so meaningless. As night goes by, my mind flies. It was as sadden as the catastrophe that rocks Japan. The only question in my mind that time was "HOW WILL I COPE? HOW WILL I RECOVER?". I realized that even if I think of it a billion times, that even if the moon will come down and tell me "Sleep now my dear.." ,answer is not yet ready to be prevailed so I wander instead. Not so long time ago, I've been like this- I've been into this. I have never learned. I'm such a fool. I admit, I have to be reprimanded. I know for a fact that it is not the end, it will not be the end and it is infinite. Just like what they say, HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF, and it keeps on repeating for no particular reason. I have endured suffering for my own mistakes, have been punished for the faults I made, have been reprimanded for not having faith, have been scolded for not listening to what they say. How can a human say he or she is complete? How can an individual prove that he or she is worth it? How can we know what we worth? If living is as hard as struggling to the waves of the ocean and as harsh as the roaring thunder then leaving will be as easy as 1-2-3. It will be as easy as A-B-C. Now, I am looking for someone who can stand tall and have stood tall for something they believe in. Regardless if it's right or not as long as he or she believes, I salute you. I wanna be like you. I wanna stand for something I believe even if it's unbelievable. I am a prisoner of my own thoughts, I am jailed with my thoughts and my own thoughts are killing me. I wanna be free.
How can someone be free as how they wanted to be?

Friday, February 4, 2011

Baguio getaway....

I just love Baguio (BA_GI_YO -just like how my foreigner friend pronounced it) With this so much love in my heart, I was thinking of moving there for good and living my life to the fullest without being forced and living the real life a real human should feel and experience...Me and my officemates stayed there for 3 days and 2 nights and I, personally, concluded that those days and nights are not enough to experience what Baguio offers us (as a tourist).  I enjoyed the food, experience and the fun I had for that short period of time. 'Zipline' was good and to be honest, it was just my first time riding on that flying thing that made my heart and my body feel so numb. I really really enjoyed it.. If there is a place that I would like to settle down - so far- it's going to be, Baguio.

Anyway, so much for appreciation and all that thing. How's life Marcus? How's the air you breathe and the people that sorround you? How's work? How's bloglife? Well, it made me jump- literally, when I found out that from 2 followers I now have 5..haha..good job! 

(sudden pause...coz I can't think of a word to say) 

There you go..I am happy now..I mean happier..I am being paid well by my job and I feel like every single night that I am awake is equally paid off. I just love my life now..Can't wait to see Baguio again..Till next time dear Blog..Byee..:0