My Wireless Brain

Last night’s encounter with friends made me a lot more frustrated about being unemployed – the very thing that everyone thought wouldn’t happen to me as soon as I graduated from college with a Magna cum laude citation. I didn’t think I’d feel depressed, too, over 12-hour sleeps and eat-chat-watch TV routines. The first few weeks of the graduation hangover had nothing in comparison. The long rest was a long overdue self-reward. And then, when an SMS or a PM on FB arrived, there were no giving second thoughts on going out with pals to share fantasies over icy cups of Oreo Frappe about becoming gazillionaires or husbands of Carnival performers in Rio. Eventually money runs out, I realized. I spent my paycheck (way back from my part-time bartending job in Le Chef in Camp John Hay) on clothes and food, sometimes uncontrollably like in situations that called for heavy spending. There was that one time I had no choice but to spend 600 pesos for dinner in a fancy restaurant. Somehow, the feeling became trance-like the minute the big bills started pouring out of the once bulky wallet. Those were the days.

Now, I’m poorer than a mouse.


Here's a snap of me playing restaurant manager in a dining service competition in Baguio Country Club. My teammates and I won silver. No one snatched gold.

Although I have with me my mom and dad at home, the feeling’s different when I ask for money. There’s a trace of guilt now. I could be paying the house bills this month if only I had scouted for a job earlier – when I finished my last three units in school. There were just too many things I was scheduled to do for May – none of them would have benefited if I had a job. As if depression wasn’t enough, as of last night I began feeling upset, too, over the idea of majority of my batchmates having jobs, if not, just something to keep their selves busy with. Before I slept last night, I thought: “Man, I could’ve skipped an hour playing Special Forces with my buddies for a minute of fishing employment contact persons from my instructors.”

I can’t deny that I’ve never chosen a preferred career path. I’m not even sure if I love the course I graduated from. The truth of it is people who graduate from my course either land in a waitering or commis career then get a scanty, ignorable, 5-bucks-a-day salary for a job-well-done. Reality bites hard. And then, as soon as they’ve worked their a**es off and get to the point of having a more dignified occupation nearing promotion, they quit and strive to land in an entry-level job abroad, repeating the tedious process once more. I, myself, am a candidate for that kind of fate.

Still, I’m crossing my fingers (my toes, even) for something good to happen soon. Who knows, I might really end up dancing in Rio as soon as this nightmare of a phase comes to a close.