The ‘F’

The 'F'

Like A Relationship Gone Haywire

It happened.

Mea Culpa.

But, as they say, it takes two to argue. But I’m not arguing. My bad. I screwed up and now I’m left to tend for myself. Years ago ( decades, really) I vowed never to work in Makati. But I did. And fell in love with it. But all things, all good things must end. But endings are never really sweet. In fact it left a sour taste in my mouth. I thought I was good enough for the company. I thought my extra hours without asking for extra pay meant something. I thought those extra tasks that were clearly not on my turf meant something. But like those good relationships, something always breaks them in two ( cue Joe Jackson, please). I never could understand. But I can accept.

Mea Culpa.

I should heve left a couple of years ago. I should have told them I need to earn more. Shoulda. Woulda. Coulda.

Mea Culpa.

I fell in love with Makati. I fell in love with the good people I work with. These guys are the best. They welcomed this old man with open arms and open minds. I should have left them early on.

Mea Culpa.

Leaving was hard. Being told to leave was harder still. It happened both ways. Me intending to leave and the bigwigs wanted me out. It was simple.

It was painful.

Mea Culpa.

I would love to think I left my mark. I would love to know that I contributed something.

But I would love to get a better paying job to pay the bills, support my extended family and basically do what humans do: Live, not just exist. Not just filling in timecards and watching the clock.

Mea Culpa.

Nobody’s fault but mine. ( I could feel Robert Plant singing . . . )

When It Rains, It Floods

And I ain’t talking about the weather.

Well, that’s not entirely true. Part of it has something to do with the weather, and the climate, and the phases of the moon. The Lunar cycle, in particular, has a big influence on what has happened since July 31. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

For starters, visiting the National Center for Mental Health is something I’d rather not recommend. Nay, I will say this for all you weak minded individuals to stay clear of that place, unless you are studying Nursing, forced by parents or being your own personal calling, under no circumstances should you visit a mental institution.

No, it’s not about the patients, but the supposed NORMAL people there whom you should be wary of. Try asking a Nurse at the station and you’ll know what I mean. Stay clear out of their way and they’ll be biding their time. Now, if you want to ask something, say the schedule for the doctor’s rounds, and right then and there, the person you are faced with turns into a busybody all in a wink, and will give you that irritated-don’t-bug-me look and answer in a non-coherent fashion similar to boxers who got hit twice in the eye. All I want to know was the exact time I can talk to the doctor so I can make plans for my brother [the patient in this story, and will elaborate a little later] who if all went well, that is, the NCMH definition of well, will be free to go and cause pandemonium again in my hometown, including the hapless family he has brought into this world, whom, thank the heavens are very normal and functional.

Just a word of caution. If the you people had the chance to be in the said institution, bring some patience and restraint for yourself. The sane can be very annoying.