Quitter. Don’t you just despise that word? Don’t you wish people never find out you gave up on something, on anything?

Today, I decided to call it quits with my present job - a job not even two months old. Why? I have several reasons, all of which you can read in a lengthier, if not “rantier” post.

Whether these reasons save me from the crucifying sensation of being labelled a quitter, I will find out soon enough. But right now, I am unwell. I know I wanted to quit. I know I wanted to resign. The emotional toll, however, is only sinking in today.

A bad job decision. The struggle to fit in. Difficulty in coping with tasks beyond my professional experience. They seemed to be sufficient reasons to leave. And having passed my resignation letter, I do enjoy a certain sigh of relief, a sliver of peace I haven’t had the last seven weeks.

But I am also disappointed. In myself, more than anything else. And foolishly, disappointed in the universe’s ways. Like the gods had something to do with my personal setbacks. Like spirits possessed me to make such a huge decision. Not a tinge of sadness rather a melange of shattered self-esteem, interior agitation, and overwhelming loneliness. Disappointed because I could have been more graceful when the days were rough rather than bombarding family and friends with my defeatist outlook.

I have three weeks left. No new job waiting in the wings, except for a few applications that I’ve been praying to hear from. Back to the drawing board it seems, and back to square one.

Quitter. Am I one? Or is it just like gay, another label I should not pay attention to? Weak? Perhaps. Weak against the challenges thrown my way. Quitting the battle. Tired. Too tired to think, feel, write.

After I wrote about investments, I’ve been thinking about chronicling my professional journey. I’m planning a new blog/journal, which would serve as a repository for my less poetic, less prosaic recordings on life. I’ve been inspired by Where Is Life especially after an insightful correspondence with the author, Leah Cox, regarding my professional and personal struggles. She brought an outside perspective that was terribly needed, and which has already proven invaluable.

I’m also planning on attending a seminar on goal setting this weekend. I think it would a great learning experience. Aside from being affordable, the center organizing the event has a great background. The speaker’s credentials are also noteworthy – he doesn’t seem to be the usual ‘all persuasion’ lecturer rather focused more on practical lessons that would apply. Which I like. Substance over flare, as I say. Plus, I’m planning to network with fellow young professionals during the seminar, or maybe find myself a professional mentor. Not that I am in desperate need of one. But having someone view your life from a different perspective gives you an expanded panorama that can be crucial for success, especially the personal kind.

In other news, this week could potentially be a game changer. I do hope I get a job offer I’ve been praying for. I’ve gone through a rigorous process for two particular career opportunities. This week is make or break. I’m terribly hoping for the former.

On another note, I’d like to ask you a question. How do you feel about mixing money with relationships? With family, it’s easy. But when it comes to friends or acquaintances, I’ve often found it burdening to put a relationship under certain financial obligations. I know many couples who argue over money. My parents have had their share of debates over finances. And as much as I trust my financial advisor over my investments, I understand she’s simply doing her job, and emotional investment is out of the question. So when the pesos or dollars get mixed in usually innocent or candid friendly activities, I’ve found the relationships more difficult to maintain, and in the long-term, strained. Money is good. But thrown into intimate and deep private connections, it can be problematic.

Thoughts?

mother’s day

Words are essentially useless when we begin to describe the goodness of our mothers. Patient, kind, gentle – these are but few adjectives we’ve grown accustomed to being attached to the women who gave birth to us. It is all but true honoring our mothers should never be limited to a day. Gratitude must be expressed in every waking moment, in every precious second. Their presence is crucial, and to undermine their impact in the lives of men, in societies, and in nations, is to be ignorant of the few basic truths which keep this world intact. Mothers are manifestations of love. There are of course, rarities. Cruel, abusive, indifferent. However, these instances of violence and apathy can never dampen the overwhelming goodness of the billions of others who have fought against the same – cruelty from their own children, abuse in the hands of their husbands, and the indifference of society. If there is one word better to describe mothers, it is brave. Indeed, braver than most men.

So regardless of how annoyed we maybe of their unsolicited advice, their nagging, their worrisome nature, and for some, their emasculating tenderness, it is actually all of those which restore sense in our lives.

Today, tonight, tomorrow, and the rest of the days we have earned another second to live with our mothers, let us love them. Love them as they deserve. Love them as they love us so unconditionally.

“Goodness is the only investment that never fails.”

In spite of my not so ideal job, I’ve managed to get through the days with a simple goal in mind. And that is to save enough money to secure some financial certainty in the coming years. If anything, I’m not well-versed in personal finance. My goal has always been simple: to be financially independent from my folks. What I know of saving, spending, and investing, I’ve learned from my parents’ experiences - both the good and bad. Other lessons come as success stories from friends, or practical advice from my siblings and their colleagues. Of course, I do my own research. I’ve discovered bearable investment schemes with regards to my income, and I’ve found independent writing opportunities to augment what I earn. Along with it, I’ve managed to live on a budget. Save first, spend later: that’s been a critical financial mantra I keep to heart.

If you asked me for financial advice, you’d most likely go nowhere because my idea of being “financially independent” is questionable. Kidding aside, I’ve never been aggressive when it comes to money, mainly because I like my risks low to medium. I don’t have disposable income, so I prefer to weigh my options. Understanding risks is something I’m slowly developing, and not just with money, mind you. I’m averse to uncertainty, and friends could attest to how uptight and controlling I can be. When it comes to money, I want to make sure I do it right.

If there is one virtue you need however, it is patience. Like what I wrote before, mansions are easy to built, palaces take time. I do believe it applies to any sort of investment: financial, academic, social, or even personal. You reap what you sow, but growth is gradual, and not something that should be hastened. Easy money is good, but based from my experience, it’s also easy to run out. When you invest on something long term, you manage your risks better.

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mansions versus palaces

I understand I have given the impression I hate my present job. And perhaps, a month into it, I still do. The task is daunting, and work-life balance is a challenge. Regardless, I’m quite proud of the work I’ve put out, and in a way, grateful for the training I’ve been receiving. There’s huge emphasis on research in the organization, and standard procedures have to be followed at all costs. There are also endless meetings, collaborations, discussions, and learning cycles. But the rigorous process of accomplishing tasks have only sharpened my eye for detail. I never thought I could be this meticulous or patient in writing or researching.

Not to mention, it is a job I’m quite proud of (which is ironic when I dread going to work everyday.) Where I am, they truly foster a culture of excellence and innovation. For one thing, the company has a great track record. Management is robust, the salary is great, and the benefits are light years away from my first job. In as little as three weeks, I’ve managed to save more money than my year-end bonus from my last employer. The physical working environment is really good too, and my colleagues are all hardworking, fast thinking, results-oriented individuals equipped with tremendous communication skills. Being surrounded by smart, driven, eloquent individuals inspire me. I can really see and feel their passion for the services our organization offers. After all, the products and services themselves are quite the technological implements. I’ve never been this immersed to technology in my life, to say the least. Coming in the office, I’m not ashamed to show off my door key and ID lanyard bearing my company’s name.

Perhaps, the only concern then is that I cannot see myself in this line of work for a long time. I’m not in anyway a techie, and I would go so far as to think myself as computer illiterate. Heck, installing programs and applications in my devices give me a headache. So to write about things I cannot fully grasp is a challenge, and the learning curve as a result, is steeper than the K2 mountain. I cannot see myself dedicating fourteen hours of my life - like how the regular employees here do - talking about technological and technical ideas I personally cannot relate to. I have no qualms about working fourteen, even twenty hours of work if necessary. But the people here work such long hours everyday, they practically live and breathe the air-conditioned sniff of the office. I can’t imagine them living a life outside work.

If anything, I want a job that I can be proud of, and that really makes use of my skills (not necessarily writing) to contribute to the overall goals of the organization. I like being part of a team that is committed to a single goal. I want to continue to work - regardless if it’s a rank and file position - and making a living out of hard work, sacrifice, and honesty in my duties. But certainly not at the cost of my entire life. I have passions I would like to pursue, and resolutions I would like to implement. I also have a family to attend to, and parents and siblings I would love to support. If a job takes away hours and hours every work day, then what energy or time would be left for me to also nourish the more valuable things in life?

You might accuse me as lazy, and I would do no favors defending myself. But I’m also working to be a man of proportion. I want a life that matters, where I am doing something that is genuinely good. I want a life that doesn’t settle for the superficial: no shitty life coaching, no sappy confidence boosting - a life which exceeds emotional, financial, and spiritual veneers. Yes, I’m still young, and perhaps I am too restless. But I’m also someone who values time, and I know for a fact I can never have what is lost to it. Maybe soon enough, I will find the right career for me, where my professional skills can flourish without compromising my personal duties to self, family, and society. For now, I’m surviving, motivating myself in whatever way I can. I work the hard hours writing, picking up new things from my supervisors, and taking everything as a learning experience - no matter how emotionally draining, or time-consuming. Because if there is one thing I love, and I think I’m still good at, it’s learning.

I keep only one thing in mind: mansions are easy to built but palaces take time.

I don’t see a point in obsessing about other people’s lives. You see, there was time when I lived mine vicariously. I nitpicked what other people wore. I availed of any opportunity to bring others down when I could. And I invested so much emotion in the superficial lives of celebrities and public people: what they were clothing themselves, what they were buying, what they were using, who they were dating. I wanted everything they had, and I wanted it without use of patience. Next thing I knew, my life became less mine, and more “othered” so to speak. And this adamant falseness made me lonely soon enough because I recognized this attitude was not feasible for contentment. I could pretend I wasn’t sad. I could read all the inspirational materials known to mankind. But it didn’t make sense - this disparity between external and internal. That’s when I told myself to fuck off other people’s lives, if they weren’t fucking with mine. And you know what, it made me happy as soon as I stopped caring about what people did with their lives, and what they would think of me. So long as they weren’t shoving down my throat how I lived mine, I simply stopped paying attention to how they lived theirs.
via an online confidant

I’m 23 and I need to make some changes in my life.

I’m 23 and I need to make some changes in my life. These include, but are not limited to, the following:

  • strike a right balance between personal and work life
  • eat better, eat well, sleep better
  • read more, surf less
  • learn more about simple gardening skills
  • help out in household chores especially during the weekend
  • exercise - buy decent running shoes; jog during the weekend
  • set aside a day in a month to reacquaint with friends
  • invest in better, more professional-looking clothes
  • delete all attempts at online dating accounts
  • join an organization outside work i.e. volunteer groups, a church chorale, outreach groups
  • self-study: buy better books; learn: attend writing workshops and the like
  • save before spending; focus on goal of becoming financially independent
  • continue freelance writing and editing options; look for other genuine sources of income
  • set more earnings aside to assist family with the finances
  • stop worrying about being single
  • take longer walks with my dogs
  • unfollow celebrities in various social media accounts; stop living my life vicariously
  • pray more often, pray better
  • travel around the city; go out of town at least once in every four months 
  • less inspirational quotes and more assertive action with follow through
  • post less in Facebook and Twitter
  • proofread better
  • listen to more classical music
  • visit more museums and art galleries; stop being lazy attending friends’ events
  • watch plays
  • and finally, go to the beach because I haven’t been to one in over eight years

breakdown

My first week at work was terrible. The job was much more than I thought it would be. I was overwhelmed by the task at hand, and could not adequately process all the information necessary for the post. Unable to cope with stress, I had a nervous breakdown last Thursday. I was mentally tired, emotionally drained, and physically exhausted. When I was on my way home the traffic was painfully slow, all the buses were full, and the waiting line for the taxi snaked for meters on end. It was the worst day of my life and I found myself weeping on the sidewalk, perhaps the subject of ridicule and whispers by passerby’s.

What made the whole week terrible was the fact that just a few weeks before I was both on an emotional and spiritual high – celebrating my birthday and attending a reinvigorating retreat. Yet, I was ill-equipped to handle the big changes especially for someone like me, who came from a smaller office where the work was easier to accomplish and the relationship between colleagues were tight-knit. All of a sudden, I was lonely, foolish, scared, and humiliated.

I ate lunch alone in my new office. Soon enough, I lost my appetite. I was unable to get any decent sleep when I got home. I tossed and turned in my bed thinking and dreading another working day. At my desk, I always felt like vomiting. I kept looking at the task at hand and everything felt impossible to finish. I incensed family and friends with my stress, and similarly infected them with my negativity.

But my gut feel told me this new job wasn’t something I wanted to do. Yes, I could force myself to learn it, but it wasn’t something that was going to make me happy or content or proud. I made a bad job decision – twice. The first was giving up my first job offer for my present work. People must me laughing at me right now. There is only regret.

It’s been impossible for me to enjoy anything. My mind is on overdrive right now. I keep on thinking if I should quit since I am not only torturing myself but I am also being a disservice to my new company. How can I deliver the best when I am in such an emotional mess? It’s embarrassing that I am simply wasting other people’s time.

And now, not only am I aggravated by the fact everything is my fault, but I’m certainly disappointed on the idea I am a quitter, and a coward, and that I face greater uncertainty if I do give up and resign.

It’s so easy for people to advice me not to quit. They tell me I’m too young not to learn. They tell me the discomforts are worth it. They tell me I need to overcome this adversity. What they do not understand is that I am simply out of place in the nature of my work. It is something I should have considered beforehand. Easy words and worn-out quotes cannot help me.

I survived my first week. I don’t know if I can last another. I am too tired to think and I just want to restart and fix my series of missteps. I wish I still had the strength. But I’m too bruised to function at the moment. I am too much for this too much.

Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened everyday and arms that were never for anyone else. But just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breathe in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes.
The Winter of the Air

Source: kalynroseanne