Skip to main content

Working girl

I have been working as an distance learning English trainer for over a month now. I must have had more than 150 classes already, most of them with French professionals. July and August are lean seasons (most of the learners, as we call the students, go on vacation during these months), but it can get quite hectic, especially if you're a little bit obsessive-compulsive, like I am. All in all, though, I'm loving my new job. It provides me with enough challenges to keep me interested and I'm learning new teaching skills. Plus, I also get to speak with interesting people from a different continent.

I may be speaking to soon, but I think I've found the perfect job for me at the moment. It's structured enough for me to not lose my wits (I've realized that I'm not one for a free-wheeling work place, no matter how deliciously fun working for Google looks like), but it's never routine because anything can happen. I'm still having fun, and I guess it's because I'm still learning something new everyday.

One other thing I like about my job is its location: Northgate Cyberzone in Alabang, which is a mere 30 minutes away from my house (less if I have my own car, which I don't!). It's not just the proximity that I love, though. It's the actual place itself. Northgate Cyberzone is home to a lot of call centers, but, like the rest of the South, it's a little laid-back 24/7. I've seen night shift people in Makati and Ortigas, and they don't look as relaxed as the Alabang people do.

I wonder if it has a lot to do with the fact that there's only a handful of accessible nightspots in the South?

One more thing I love about Northgate Cyberzone--and my part of Manila, for that matter--is that we don't have that many tall buildings here. I know this is going to change sooner than I would have liked, but for now, I like rushing out for a quick purchase at the 7'11 and seeing a full view of the moon.

I think I'm staying here for a while.

Popular posts from this blog

The work for which all other work is but preparation

I've been thinking, off and on, of something I once read: The purpose of marriage is not happiness but holiness. Never having been a "good" Christian despite my many attempts, I couldn't understand this line of thinking. Having been raised Catholic, I understood "holiness" to have as one of its main ingredients suffering — and why even want to get married if to be successful at it means to suffer? But these words never left me, bobbing up every now and then from the flotsam and jetsam of my brain. Until, one day, it dawned on me what the statement meant for me. On that same day, I also realized that I do want the gift of marriage. In fact, that is my Christmas wish this year.  My view is not a biblical view, but I don't think it strays too far from it. To be holy is to be set apart from others, as God is, in his perfect goodness and righteousness, in his perfect love (yes, this is biblical; yes, I know I said I wasn't looking at it biblically).  The

Visita Iglesia

My mom and I went with my sister, her family, and the in-laws to their Visita Iglesia for the Holy Week. I'd never done this before, but I had such an interesting time, and I think I'd like to do this again next year. We didn't do the Stations of the Cross, though. We just prayed and lit candles. A lot of candles. Here's a list of the churches we visited. Recto The University Belt churches, all of which are within walking distance to each other. The path to all those churches were lined with vendors hawking all sorts of things, from food, like calamares (I'd never seen calamares being sold as street food before! Lucky U-Belt kids!), all-sorts-of-balls-and-the-like (chicken, squid, fish, kikiam , and kwek-kwek ), to bottled water and flavored beverages, to candles and religious paraphernalia. 1. The San Beda Church , which I loved for the gilt of gold on the statues and the ceiling, and because once a Bedan, always a Bedan, though I didn't go to San Beda

Dream: Disaster

Last night's dream. This is a long one. I was in a management class that suddenly became a cooking class. The teacher whipped up this Italian dish with pasta, meat and some mushrooms and vegetables. "Would anyone like to have this?" she asked us. Nobody replied. A bit miffed, she handed it to the student in front of her: me. The dish looked delicious, actually, so I stood up and went around the classroom to get everyone to try it. Some of my classmates feigned interest, and some didn't bother to hide their annoyance, but most got some of the food. The plate was soon empty, even for me, so I went back to my seat. The teacher, who'd been watching me serve her dish, asked, "Why do you have blood on the seat of your pants? Do you have your period?" Surprised, and suddenly anxious, I whispered, "I just finished my, um, girly thing, ma'am, but I'll go check. I might have just sat on something that looks like blood." I saw what looked like blo