Dreams under renovation

I had the answers back in kindergarten…but they were neither right nor wrong.

It doesn’t matter where I am: under my blanket, in the shower, aboard the metropolis train, walking to my office, guiltlessly devouring nutella sandwich at our lone table at home, or out somewhere a space only I knew of. My kindergarten teacher’s question would haunt me like a creepy mischievous shadow, “When you grow up, what would you want to be?” And in like a snap, I’d see an imaginary canvass, white and clean. Empty.

I had the answers when I was a kid – a pocketful of confident answers. And I must have told my teacher of them with a wide grin unveiling my carefree broken smile. Now that I’m a grownup, I would usually catch myself in chunks of introspection and retrospection, and how the thoughts weave themselves together often throws me a full-blown smack kicking me out from my own life. Mind-boggling realizations, often irritating, but a fairly good way to kill time.

At this point in my life, where [perhaps] I’m supposed to have already figured what I would want to do for the next half a century, I’m only finding myself stuck with a fair display of options, not with a headstrong decision. Admittedly, I would want to become all of my many options: a fashion designer, a wedding planner, a businesswoman, a novelist, a marketing director, a professor, a performer, an actress (kidding), a photographer, a surfing champ, a painter, a diva, an all-genre dancer, an interior designer, a genius and all other versions I’ve imagined of myself. But fine – there’s no way I can be everybody, that’s absolutely and regretfully understood.

I recall the main point of Dr. Meg Jay’s book, The Defining Decade. It implies that the twentysomething stage is so crucial in the sense that the decisions one makes at this twentysomething period are what would stir up all the succeeding decades of one’s life. It may not apply to everyone but it makes sense, doesn’t it? Reading that book added a lot of pressure to my self-evaluation. In fact, it got pretty scary I wanted to shred the pages to stick-thin strips and burn them all to ashes without a chance for revival. Scary because if my kindergarten teacher would come asking me again, “When you grow up, what would you want to be?”, I would only see myself laying down the cards – my many options for my future (which has now arrived as the present); one card representing each of my dream figure – and I’d stop there. “I don’t know.” Bad news is I’m most likely just a few days away to my future. Maybe even too late to figure my shit out.

Such an anxiety-infected circumstance ain’t new but is rather ironic coming from someone adored for being smart, gifted, multi-talented. That’s the picture (with no intentions to brag, just a little bit) and perhaps the problem of indecision rooted from the burden of having multiple choices. I recall an artist mom mentioned that to me and I also recall agreeing to it right then and there. My family, friends, workmates and my boss recognize my skills and it does flatter me to know so. How could I not feel grand about being praised, sometimes even overly? My heart would swell up, but true as well that the praises would oftentimes make me lose my breath – and palpitate. Maybe it’s just me, but they often come in as overwhelming I could barely handle. Then that would set me off questioning myself again, “So which one do I do best?”…”I don’t know.” But I honestly want to do all. But knowing that I just can’t, there is then the fear of missing out on all the others in favor of one. Or two.

Then there were Aristotle, Benjamin Franklin, Leonardo da Vinci, Einstein, name the all-time geniuses. They were all over the early society, each of them an authority in almost all disciplines, the renowned in every profession. They were everybody that they wanted to be. Nah, never mind, my argument would surely come invalid though. Apparently, I’m no genius, end of story (and that’s f$@#-all-geniuses frustrating!). 😀

Now, after many times of skimming through my brain lobes, nodes and membrane – I actually just mean my thoughts – I realize I have been looking only at my dreams with the challenges prerequisite to them, but not at every possibility that could unfold like a red carpet that would lead me to my glory days. Because honestly, I doubt my own gifts. And I bow down to my fears, which is equally the same as poisoning my enthusiasm for my dreams. Of course I know all that. I apparently, have this mistaken love for my own fears.

Tomorrow I still won’t have it all figured out. But the thing I’m quite sure of is that I don’t need a time machine to go back to kindergarten and collect the answers I once had. No, that little kid didn’t know much, not even enough. Perhaps a few more twists and turns, then I’ll get myself an answer as to who I would want to be for the most part of my life.

It’s a whole new world I’m in now, totally different from my playfully colorful kindergarten. And it looks like I’m going to need a whole new set of answers.

Wish me well, folks! 🙂
Love, Ayna

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Dreams under renovation

The Perks of Being a Holiday Worker

May 1.

It’s Labor Day (a national holiday indeed) and I just came home from WORK! Wiw, awesome. But seriously, I could’ve rejoiced wasting the day to my boring hobbies: reading a novel aloud, soaking my dirty clothes in fresh-smelling bubbles, playing my one and only playlist – yes, the entire album of Pitch Perfect – on my laptop, blog-hopping, checking the fridge if our can of ice cream has multiplied, and of course updating myself with the latest gossips in the whole world through Facebook. But I didn’t! I didn’t because as I’ve just said, I just came home from work.

I didn’t regret though. 🙂

WHY? For three things, at least.

1. No traffic. Travel this morning? That was pretty swift. I actually struggled chasing time because it was already 08:00 and some freakin’ bad air was terribly troubling my tummy; and I wouldn’t go until I got darn relieved of it. So I thought, “Fine, I’ll be late.” I hailed a bus at 8:20 and I knew the remaining 40 minutes couldn’t save me from the “Tardy” remark. Just had to move the hell on. But then again, it’s holiday today and the highway was miraculously not jammed with reckless buses. I had a smooth lift to the office and at 8:42, I was already at my desk. Man, I even got to spare some three minutes to forget to log in. So 8:45 – time in. Lovely.

2.  Canape Galore! Mid-morning, my supervisor asked, “What do you want for snacks? The Boss is asking.” Honestly, I wasn’t really after any particular recipe. I was thinking FREE SNACK! Sweet treat. My supervisor wanted Canape, and I like Canape, so be it. And when The Boss came, it was Canape galore!

3. My Tally Board Just Got Sweeter. We were just about to pack up and leave, and call it a holiday, when my supervisor said, “You have new registrations!” Sounded music, yeah. My counts are climbing and my tally board just got sweeter. Way to go, kiddo!

So what’s there to feel wasted about? Out of working on a holiday, I got me a triple-treat, some precious perks of being a happy holiday worker! 🙂

The Perks of Being a Holiday Worker

My Goddamn Job Is A Damn Good Gift from God

Of 24 hours, how much do you spend thinking, worrying, daydreaming, and ranting over your unrelentingly stressful job? Your office period is a given, minus the 30 minutes you spend on YouTube, some two to three hours stalking and chatting on Facebook and Twitter, and like an hour or two “google-ing” for the latest cool gadget by Apple and Samsung or for the difference between cold perm and digital perm, yada-ya-DUH. And of course, minus the time you’re DEEPLY (yes, I have to say that) sleeping.

It must be that life-sucker kind of job that most of us are unwillingly trying to get through with day by day…or night by night. Really, how long does it take you to pull your butt off your messy-but-irresistibly-caring bed; and to the shower? As for me, at least these days, one hour! LOL. Like today, I would’ve missed the entire morning and wasted it to tardiness had my brother not bothered waking me up.

You open your eyes. Work. You get up. Work. Oh, and before that, perhaps you were dreaming of your To-Dos. Take a shower. To-Dos. Pick your outfit. To-Dos. Eat breakfast. To-Dos. Dab some lip tint. To-Dos. Wait for a bus. To-Dos. Then you mentally talk yourself through the traffic about your To-Dooosss. Priority 1. Priority 2, 3…….*toooooot*…….4, 5. You take the elevator. Deadlines. You open the door to your office. Deadlines. Boot up your computer. Deadlines. And then you open your email inbox……..(Brain NOT Responding).

At the end of the day, you log off three hours past your regular timeout. So you take the elevator down with puffy eyebags. To-Dos. You wait for the bus. Pending items. You ride the bus. Hate mails from your boss. You take the shower. Crappy outputs.

AGbyVSThen you pray. I do! 🙂 And in my prayers, I always thank God for entrusting the job to me. It’s hard, so damn hard, that goes without saying. But then again, I am learning a lot and that alone is one huge scoop of some perks. I thank God for making me get through the love-hate affair of every day, and through an inbox that I would’ve wished to empty right at first sight. And for everything else because I believe that each and every day always has some goodness and some sane humanity in it.

I thank God. I thank God again and again. I thank God. I thank…work. I thank…To-Dos. I thank…priorities 1, 2, 3. I thank pending items, deadlines, crap…….WHAAAATTT??? Okay, I have to sleep, my brain cells are friggin’ groggy. Goodnight God, my resting brain shall drift away………..WITH TO-DOS BLEEDING IN THAT JOYFUL COLOR CALLED “RED”.

LOL, What did Captain Barbossa (Pirates of the Caribbean) say? “Sleep when you die.” So, sail on, folks! 🙂

My Goddamn Job Is A Damn Good Gift from God