Random Thoughts

My friend, who was an editorial board member of the student publication in one of the prestigious and sectarian Universities in Cebu, advised me that her company, to which she serves as a copy writer for almost a year, will furlough a fraction of its employees because of global recession। Among those who will find themselves cramming for another source for bread and butter, by middle of this year is she.

In today’s era, programmers, web designers, system and web developers are given top priority. With few exceptions, BPO and IT –related companies are inclined to maximize the talents of their employees. In order for one to be hired, the person must be equipped with different skills to perform in several facets of the office; and not just to perform, but to perform very well.

We are living in a world where the fittest survives. People must persevere in upgrading and honing their skills. Suffice it to say that one college degree is no longer in the mainstream if not supplemented with short courses or another four-year degree for every few years, another innovation is introduced to the public, creating another department in an office.

However, technical skills are not the sole standard for keeping a job. At times, the guts or the attitude could hand someone a career. This is especially true for a person who is very adept in maneuvering circumstances that would work to her advantage. This is not to say that it is not a righteous act for who am I to render judgment? Stepping on to something or someone just to gain an edge is not already new to this world.

At most time, so fervent is the career rivalry that even family members and relatives, close friends and club associates are no exceptions. How can people stomach to be in constant greetings with each other while secretly outsmarting each one for the most coveted career position? Most truly, even at work, at school or anywhere else, politics delineate their relationships.

River of Thoughts थेटेल ऑफ़ थे उन्तित्लेद

How do I begin? Myriads of words tickle my brains as I rummage my keyboards with hope to accomplish something worthwhile.

Like an interminable river, bits of story flood my heart preparing to stream. The clock says it’s almost half an hour away from 4 in the afternoon and yet, here I am looking at things in retrospect.

It has been like forever since I last find myself speaking my mind. When I took a test for student publication’s editorial board during my University years, I was elated to qualify. I thought it was the end of my ordeal; however, the panel interview that followed was just a prologue to my anguish.

No, question and answer moment does not frighten me. In contrast, I love it; starve for it every second the clock ticks. Attention-seeker that I am, opportunity such as that is welcome. But seeing the not- so- hideous face of a brainiac, poised as if a lion waiting for the opportune time to devour its prey cowers the tigress in me.

Years changed and this genius became a respected somebody in his field in Thailand while I find myself changing careers. Although the blunder I committed marked me for as long as I breathe, this does not however taint my enthusiasm for poetry, literary manuscripts and creative writing.

And while our technology reaches farther on, journalism did not miss its ride; rather, it evolves with time. From the printed publications that storm our houses, schools, offices and other establishments, virtual journalism aroused socio-political and cultural consciousness in a far wider and deeper scale.

Today it does not take to be a professional columnist or writer to have one’s creations read, appreciated, criticized about, debated upon and even earn a friend, foe or fame.

Lurking on the web are sites that readily furnish virtual venues where frustrated artists, creative writers and poets exchange and even share their creativity via blogging, video sharing and photojournalism. So prevalent is this innovation of technology that even professionals enjoy its indulgences and spoils.

Looking back, I realize that although I did not see my name elevated to the editorial board of our student paper, I am still happy; happy that the terror editor who silenced my loquacious side earned many prestigious local and national awards with his bold and provocative literary arts.

The room now becomes dim as the silhouettes start to crawl on the floor. My senses are fully awakened, refreshed and filled with hope that while my terror interrogator’s name precedes prestige, here I am, struggling, trying and engaging in intellectual masturbation, enjoying my privilege to correspondence.