the survivor

30 april 2008
makati city



"it’s better to burn out than fade away." – kurt cobain, 1967-1994

finally, i’m back. been buried by lots of things these past weeks i was totally asphyxiated. in fact, i was feeling i would puke every time i heard deck, csat, meeting, trends and analyses. these call centre higher ups patois cached me from seeing sunlight i almost believed i was interred six feet under. good thing chika surged like raging lava; otherwise, i would definitely end up cockscrewing my dandruff-clinging hair like a true blue nuts.

too morbid is my description because it really was. no other description is more apt. no hyperbolism. when i said "battles are my business," it did not occur to me that i would sweat bullets and canon balls in braving them.

this is far different from the usual hell weeks in college days. this was a matter of life and death...and surviving. for the first time, i was able to do an analysis, which was to be sent directly to client, in 20 minutes. this was on top of the deck that was to be sent to general manager and that entailed a series of focus group discussions and brow-knitting and mind-wringing. and again, on top of seminars and training i had to undergo.

and i survived. i can smile now because i am able to spend more than 3 hours of sleep. my skype status is already changed from "do not disturb" to "available", which means i am free to unleash my power to chika once more. i consider it right timing as a lot of changes, updates, transformations and metamorphoses have just taken place.

it’s better not to delve too much into negativity. the fact is, i survived. these past weeks too, my friend ayin introduced this positive thinking thing with the gist revolving around seeing things in rose coloured glasses. though skeptical at first, ayin was able to bring me around in trying this. anyway, wala namang mawawala sa akin.

so there goes my haggard days, the flow part of the vicious cycle of ebb and flow. now, it’s my turn to go back to sipping banana daiquiris atop of banana boat.

first call

21 april 2008
makati city

Good thing Ayin was still there. Otherwise, I might have been unable to connect to Saafi and Fernando, who were waiting like a ravenous tiger ready to fall its newly edged teeth to its hapless prey.

My emotions flew like a wayward missile. This was my first time to have a call on my own, with me as the facilitator and the clients as devil’s advocates. Not until that call, I thought I could easily weave words to satisfy the ears of the clients. Though I must admit that even with my conviction that is sometimes larger than life, I was still anxious to do it. Before hearing the growl on the other line, I was at a loss I just crossed my legs to pacify my urge to pee. Worst part was that Boss Robi was sitting behind me, which would mean that I could have sermon as my side dish for my breakfast.

When I heard Saafi’s voice, I was glad I was able to regain my composure. Thanks for the script and spiels I prepared which proved to be helpful in my presentation. Then the conversation began with me a little hesitant at first. It actually ran smoothly I gained enough courage to continue and vaunt our analyses and action items; in fact, lovely, as Saafi liked the format and that they don’t have any issues with the QA team right now.

So there I was, smiling throughout the entire call while alternately flipping through my script. Lots of time I lost focus as I was engrossed in savouring their comments. Boss Robi interrupted from time to time to seek some clarification or to add up something I almost forgot to point out. During the wrap up part, Fernando and Saafi reiterated the necessity to keep a keen eye on the supervisors. I just shrugged my shoulder and gave Boss Robi a victorious look.

At exactly 7am, I heard the click on the other line. Only then was I able to breathe normally. Light discussion ensued, outlining what-to-do’s in the light of that call. But I was too busy to care anymore. So as soon as Boss Robi stepped out of the room, I immediately grabbed my bag and proceeded to somewhere I could silently celebrate my first call.

tuesday with melon

16 april 2008
makati city

It is now a week delayed. And it has nothing to do with melon. It’s just I think it would look more poetic and cutie using this title. Anyway, to some extent, it would matter as I just doused the Tuesday afternoon heat wave away with several glasses of melon shake.

My Tuesday afternoon was not in its usual boring fashion. I woke up early (in my ordinary days, getting out of bed at 11am is record-breaking) and tried to brush off the cobweb that had been lodging in my gray matter for the longest time. Playing on the background were the early 90’s songs from women-led bands (Hole, the Cranberries, 10,000 Maniacs and Moonpools and Caterpillar), I couldn’t help looking back when I was romantically-attached to everything surrounding me. I was flammable by then, which made me explode and swell at no exact point in time.

Songs of grunge bands, Eraserheads and women-led bands encapsulate my mood in my juvenile years – a tug of war between being angst-ridden and dreamy, almost chimerical. This is the era of being "cool," the household word at that time it had already lost its meaning and sense. If I would be asked what made me cool at that time, I would definitely cite my engrossment to the bands with women as the vocalists, more than the Tretorn, loose tuck in, date with whoever were the coolest guys and gals on campus and Penshoppe.

Around that time, I was a hopeless romantic trying hard writer, oozing with "I hate myself I wanna die" attitude as it was a compulsory for soon-to-be English major and pa-literati crowd. With our throat alternately sucking up black smoke of Marlboro and black coffee, it was a de rigueur for us, pseudo-quasi-semi writers, to write heart-wrenching short story over ear-splitting Jeremy or Smells like Teen Spirit. This only shows that at that time, hearing these bands was a requirement to be cool in our crowd.

My liking on this music genre actually transcended the preference and taste and the trying to be cool. It became a part of attitude and belief. Although they’re undeniably pleasant to the ears, they do not just pierce my heart; they smash my soul into smithereens. That’s the real score on my decision to lock myself in my room when Kurt Cobain committed suicide…hehe…

It was a time-capsule experience; my mind was being rewound to the flush of life. Could’ve-beens and should’ve-beens crept through my synapses but I was too busy to care. Until Courtney Love’s voice was drowned by the alarm clock that reverberated around the room.

when carmi martin strikes back

07 april 2008
makati city

after the ebb comes the bubonic plague of work. yes you’ve heard it right; i’ve been bugged by the weight of the bandwidth right now. tons of works in different shades and hues. though i have been anticipating this, it’s never occurred to my mind that it would be as bulky and burdensome as this. even if it is against my will, i have to say goodbye to sipping banana daiquiris atop of banana boat.

for the first time, i have to admit that i am now in a "culture shock." not necessarily overwhelmed but more of windang and haggardo verzosa considering i have been in the post for almost two months. changes come one after the other, from the most discerning to the most insensitive, smallest to biggest, most silent to the most blaring ways and forms and fashions. they come not in one but usually in waves, or in series. and they haunt me, dwell into my mind, drilling into my brain just like tiny monsters banging in the wall of my head with placards shouting "do it ASAP, or else…"

this is my first time to write about my work as a qa supervisor since assuming the position on the 22nd of February. but, i won’t delve too much into it as two months are too short to share my routine. i need to gain a lot of experiences and learn tons of lessons first. it's just i’ve had the urge to flesh out some part of it, hoping that this would make things a little clearer since in normal times, i would just snatch away time and attention of my friends who are wont to sucking up my haggardness while sucking up black smoke of cigarette over a cup of coffee.

i know there are more to come. i just need to jot down everything to, to the words of ming ling in the soong sister, a very brilliant and brave film, "cut the bullshit." anyway, i told my manager during my interview for this post that i always choose my battles, and i don’t take them sitting down. in a nutshell, and to make it a sound bite, "battles are my business."

in retro

05 april 2008
makati city.


29 February 2008 –


my hair was still in a total mess when i received a text from a friend. with a stick of marlboro squashed in between my fingers, i eagerly read the message. it was a forwarded message: ate, kilala mo daw yung barret ng batch 10? patay na daw po.


wilbert was a classmate in high school. he was from the group of prim and proper, inversely proportional to the crowd i was associated with that was a bunch of rockers wannabe (at that time, i mean). they were the well-ironed-uniform-wearing classmates who would fit in the definition of "hot guys/gals" while we were the cool guys/gals who never cared how do we look like. despite the differences, we actually didn’t have any problems chilling out together. we were able to whip through our distinctness.


it was in the kamalig that the ties among the members of our batch started to flower. like anyone else, wilbert was a total stranger to us, further bolstered by his surname which sounded foreigner. but kamalig explored the ways to converge us, paving the way to the friendship we’ve been holding on to until this very day. until finally, we’re able to figure out each strengths and weaknesses.


i have actually been preparing to see my classmates as, during the last entry to our batch blog, it has been agreed upon that we would hold our get-together after a decade of hiatus. the last time i caught a glimpse of wilbert was when we’re obliged to clean the entire school just to get our hard-earned…good moral certificate. this was the consequence of escaping from practising graduation for a batch picnic. it’s still vivid in my memory how we plugged our asses away from sleeking the entire building, with sweats dripping like flowing on our foreheads.


up to now, it is still a puzzle to us what really took place. several stories have been in rounds, but none of them are confirmed. some assume that his death was related to his work, as he’s an engineer and some not-so-nice guys might have not liked the way wilbert dealt with them. i’ve always pictured wilbert as a boy-next-door type who’s willing to share his shoulders to be leaned on and extend hands to those who need his help. i guess he stuck to that image till a wacko put him to silence forever.


it is still hard to imagine that wilbert would be no longer with us on our get-together he planned. in memen's words, nakakalungkot.

can't afford gucci but we wear honesty*

04 april 2008
makati city




like a space cadet to narcotics, i’ve been hooked to brian gorrell’s blog. more than the expose on manila’s powers-that-be in the fashion world, it is brian’s quest for honesty and integrity that strikes me. anyway, here’s a poster that appears on the blog, c/o one of his supporters.

*for more chika, go to www.delfindjmontano.blogspot.com