Overachievement Is Not A Good Thing (i.e. Bosses can never be pleased)

Today I was asked to do a 3d rendering of my boss' living room:

I wanted it to look as realistic as possible (my co-worker, kuya Sean, did the "heavy" furnitures :) ), but I think I failed because, well, I didn't use high subdivs on materials and the armchair on the foreground looks so fake (We couldn't see what it really looked like, based from the pictures, it was covered with a protective cloth. And feel free to go figure other reasons why it doesn't look real at all).


That was not the problem, however. In fact, my boss thinks it looks real. TOO REAL. Too much like the photograph, he said, it wasn't possible that we did it using 3dmax. He pointed out the sofa, the table, the curtains, the cushions, the mirror, and accused us of "copy-pasting" it from Photoshop. (I swear I did no such thing, no editing, just the usual brightness-contrast) Worse, it wasn't me who faced him when he said this, our "Head" gave it to him "on my behalf" and he didn't say anything on the contrary! (He wasn't sure himself, I think, if I really edited it) I didn't know whether to be insulted or flattered. I mean, come on, 3d renderers (even you!) would immediately see that this work is mediocre. And yet he thinks it's too perfect. I just laughed it off, but inside, I was seething. Did he really think me incapable of doing an excellent job?


I recall a similar incident way back in highschool: We had a project in HE (Home Economics) where we were supposed to sew pillowcases (pretty easy right?). Being the person who always tries to do her best in every endeavor, I meticulously estimated each stitch to be the same size as the other. I submitted it, and expected to achieve high marks, but what do you know, I got what would be equivalent to a C! I asked my teacher to explain why and she said:


"You shouldn't have used a sewing machine."


What??!!!


I sputtered, "But I didn't!", to which she replied, "Well, it sure does look like you did."


Oh, life is such an irony.

Here's the reference photograph by the way:

A Terrifying-slash-Mortifying Moment at the Mall

I never knew malls could give me such an adrenaline rush.


Earlier today I went to SM Clark just to purchase two pieces of quite costly yellow-orange curtains (and erm.. a maximizer bra! hihi). For two freaking pieces of those curtains, I had to stand and wait in line for an hour at the cashier... An hour!


Yep. Today was a 3-day sale for SM, and so they had those usual “if you have a SMAC, you get 10% discount on all items.” kind of thing. And so for my dear mum, I rushed to Our Home to avail of said discount (which you only get, by the way, from 10am-12pm on the first day) for her gorgeous curtains. (20% + 10%? 30% off is a good deal already if it costs, say, a couple of thousands)




So by the time I paid, I was already pretty tired and my temper had reached its maximum level. I decided to eat to cool off my head, and after that went to National Bookstore to browse through books that might be on sale, too.




I was halfway through the Fiction section when, all of a sudden, I heard people screaming and shouting; I glanced up and everyone-all the shoppers- were running towards the exit! What the hell! By instinct, I dashed out of the bookstore at once. Shops were rolling down their doors, and everyone was like, running for the lives. Was there a fire? How come I didn’t hear any alarm?! I don't see any smoke. (and why would stores be closing their doors if there was a fire?) Terrified, I started to hightail it too, but in a heartbeat I passed by the baggage counter and realized with dismay that the curtains were there (with my bra!), I suddenly halted, and ran back to get them. A woman, probably a supervisor, was telling everyone to calm down and come inside the store. Wide-eyed, I entered again and politely asked the guy from the counter (who looked so dead bored as if the events didn’t interest him a bit) for my items. I noticed that only the salesladies and a couple of shoppers were there. I forced a straight face (although I was clearly trembling) and asked what was going on and all they said was, “May gulo”. I felt it was safer inside, so I stayed there and texted my mom not to come and stay in Dau for a while. I saw an unconscious body being carried away by one of the security guards, however, no one was running anymore. Has somebody been killed then? Was there a terrorist out there who was planning to kill all of us? Or a holdaper perhaps? Or just some gangsta shit that some kids have gotten into? I shrank back into the store as other more horrifying thoughts entered my mind.




After a while though (and to my slight disappointment), everything died down and people from the management went around to announce that everything was alright, and to scold the staff for panicking. No one could still answer the ‘why’ question, so I went back to looking at books and bought a manga and a novel that were both on sale, as if nothing happened. Mom called, and said that we go to Marquee Mall instead.




On the way out, I asked a guard from BDO about what went on. He said,


“May pumutok lang ho na dispenser sa KFC, tapos may nagpanic at tumakbo, ayun, nagsitakbuhan na ho yung mga tao.”




What the ****. I was one of those who ran with them, albeit for less than a minute. I laughed aloud at how ridiculous the events turned out to be. I consoled myself that at least I only sprinted less than a meter and didn’t really reach the exit. Ha ha. Embarassing.




So typically pinoy. Overreaction is fast becoming a common trait among us (OA talaga, may hinimatay pa.). Worse than that though, is our attitude to “go with the flow”. When somebody runs, we run too without knowing what we’re running away from. When somebody points at the sky and everyone stares at it, we look up and stare at it too. I guess this goes for everyone, not just Filipinos. But maybe this is precisely why we vote for the wrong persons, why we follow fads that don’t really suit us, why we follow rules when we don’t even know what they’re there for. People hardly have their own opinions anymore; when someone says “This is what’s right!” we immediately believe them. We are too lazy to look back and check at things that matter, following blindly is easier. Individuality is as rare as Britney’s panties.




I challenge anyone who reads this to start thinking for themselves and not be blind followers. You might say “I am not!” but surely, there are points in your life when you were too tired or too lazy to stand by your own conviction and beliefs (If you do have your own).




Anyway, I thank God for this day. It turned out to be an interesting one. Sure beats staying at home or the office all day, typing and clicking away on my pc (and yet that’s what I still ended up doing tonight). :)

When Everything Seems As It Should Be

“You have a perfect life, a good man, a stable job, good friends, a loving family…”


How many times have I heard this, and how many times have I been thankful for it? Countless times, of course. And yet…




Of course there would be the inevitable “and yet..” We’ve grown accustomed to people complaining so much, that we are almost taken by surprise (or more often, envy and irritation) when someone tells us how wonderful and amazing their lives are. I honestly don’t know what started it, but mankind seems to be always drawn to negativity, always thinking about what is wrong with their lives, that they forget that they’re truly luckier than they see themselves to be.


But that’s not the way it is in my case. I know. I know it, I do realize it, and I sincerely appreciate all the blessings that has been given me. I am thankful for them each and everyday. But.. but I’m not happy. Oh yes, I smile, I laugh. When asked, “How are you?” I say, “I’m fine, I’m doing well, thanks for asking.” But recently, or rather, occasionally, I’ve been plummeting to random moments of depression, which appear to have no valid excuse to be present in my life at all. What more could I want? I guiltily ask myself. If I’m not satisfied with what I have right now, then how would I know what would really make me happy? To be free?




It was on a sunny morning, while I was on the way to work that I was feeling so low and thought of these. Those ideas were really bothering me, seeing that I really had nothing to worry about in my life except that maybe I’ve made the wrong choice or that my father had done the choosing for me. But despite that I knew, as an adult, that I had to be thankful for his guidance and that so far, I still feel that I have been brought up correctly and that maybe.. maybe this is where I’m supposed to be. Or maybe I’m supposed to be somewhere else but I don’t have the courage to make the decision myself. Or maybe following another path would make me unhappy. Clearly, I was very confused.




It so happened that that afternoon I decided to read, at last, one of Paulo Coelho’s books. (You’re already probably thinking, oh she’s just gonna blab about how Coelho enlightened her and changed her life, but honestly, I don’t care two cents what you think) I know they’ve been around for quite some time now, but I never got around to reading more of them, in fact, I only read the Alchemist, nothing else. Randomly, I chose The Zahir.


My eyes literally grew in surprise as I read page after page. There, among those sentences are the ideas, the musings that had become my personal Zahir for the past few months.


In his first chapter, about him being a free man, he said:

“I heard other people speaking in the name of freedom, and the more they defended this unique right, the more enslaved they seemed to be to their parents’ wishes, to a marriage in which they had promised to stay with the other person “for the rest of their lives,” to the bathroom scales, to their diet, to half-finished projects, to lovers to whom they were incapable of saying “No” or “It’s over,” to weekends when they were obliged to have lunch with people they didn’t even like. Slaves to luxury, to the appearance of luxury, to the appearance of the appearance of luxury. Slaves to a life they had not chosen, but which they had decided to live because someone had managed to convince them that it was all for the best. And so their identical days and nights passed, days and nights in which adventure was just a word in a book or an image on the television that was always on, and whenever a door opened, they would say:

“I’m not interested. I’m not in the mood.”


How could they possibly know if they were in the mood or not if they had never tried? But there was no point in asking; the truth was they were afraid of any change that would upset the world they had grown used to.”

And then on another chapter:

“No one should ever ask themselves that: Why am I unhappy? The question carries within it the virus that will destroy everything. If we ask that question, it means we want to find out what makes us happy. If what makes us happy is different from what we have now, then we must either change once and for all or stay as we are, feeling even more unhappy.”

Have I found out then, what makes me unhappy? Is it that, I am not truly following my heart's desire, that I am not following the path that I have meant to take, and am only ambling along as people direct me to?


I am afraid that I wasn't really supposed to take up Architecture, and this is something I've never told anyone but Jay. I never, ever wanted to doubt it, but when I was in 3rd grade, my father told me that I would make a good Architect someday, that my talents would be perfect for such a profession. And so I asked and saw and got interested with Architects, and that's when my dream began. So does that mean I was supposed to have my own dream? My father didn't even impose it on me, it was just a suggestion, but from then on I made it my goal, without really fully understanding what I should be doing and how I would be getting there.


If I have to "change once and for all", what else should I be then? I tried to think of what I wanted to be, when I was way younger, and I could think of nothing, absolutely nothing, except that I wanted to be an actress, ("gusto ko maging astista" haha. funny. but yeah, I did.) or a model (funnier, as if i'd have a chance). So scrap them both, what else should I be doing with my life? [edit: I remember that I dreamed of becoming an Archeologist too, but I guess aside from loving History, that's just too much Discovery, NatGeo and History Channel for me?]


I do want things to change, but I never had the courage. Until now, I still don't. Knowing that I have to is small comfort, but someday, I wish to take that leap, too. Coelho makes sense, but for now I want to believe the monotony of my life is because of the work I am in, and its environment. I think it is even precisely that which drove me to this muddled state, just because I have begun to feel so very very bored with it, which almost has nothing to do with Architecture anymore.


I WILL leave, and I will take it from there. I WILL be an apprentice somewhere that would allow me to exercise what I've learned, and if by chance I would still not feel happy, then it really would be time to reevaluate whether I should carry on or not.




-September 23, 2009


** I wrote this as a draft but didn't reach a conclusion until a few days later, after typhoon Ondoy struck. The drastic turn of events brought about by the hurricane had an impact on me; it didn't affect me directly but a sudden awareness of death, suffering and misfortune made me appreciate life all the more, and realize with shame that I was being self centered again by thinking only of my own unhappiness, when a lot of people are dealing with tragedies that are infinitely worse. I saw how sheltered I have been, if things like these shook me up, what chance do I have then, If I was one of the victims of Ondoy, when everything was a matter of life and death, and if you do survive, a question of whether you'll recover everything you've had before is something you would have to deal with afterwards?


My prayers go to every victim of Ondoy. I hope the Philippines recover, and learn from this disaster.

First.

I have so much to say.
I made this blog approximately two years ago, and, until now, am just finding the motivation to fix everything up and make the whole thing worth writing on. I'm still lazy though, but I guess I've been too lonely to not put into words the things I wonder about, the thoughts that fill up my mind every time I sit in between strangers on grimy leatherette seats of public jeepneys.
So here, my first post. A rather uncreative title, but as I said, I'm still too lazy. To think of a better one.
I have so much to say, let's just hope I'll be able to compose decent sentences to truly express those ideas. And so.. until my next first post. :) (I guess this one doesn't really count because all it says is that I'm finally using this blog but is too sluggish to actually write anything useful. haha.)