I MISS MY COMPUTER. I MISS MY DYSFUNCTIONAL OFFICE FAMILY.

And you know what? I am just a few steps away from my friends and my computer (those were great times) but I feel sick already. I, with my three other friends, have been excommunicated from Eden (the other side of the office) and we were sent into "who knows what this place is." The place is so gloomy. The work is so gloomy. My life is caught in a little box, frankly speaking.

Anyway, I like the thought that my batchmates and I are getting along with our other officemates. It gives me a fuzzy feeling (a feeling that I have rearely had in years… okay, months) that it makes me feel that I am in some sort of a family "feel-good" movie kind of thing. Is it the Christmas season’s fault? Has the Grinch turned into an obedient shepherdess? (Huh?)

I am dragging myself everyday to work. It’s really a good thing that I am starting to get along with others (shoving my introverted self aside) but the things I do here are starting to drive me into a deep oblivion. My vocabulary consists of the words "promotes," "conducts," "advocates" and all of those simple active verb tenses you can think about. This is wearing me out. I can’t even finish reading a book in a day. I am going nuts. This blog is my only means of communicating my inner psycho feelings. I am in a big rut (here I go again with my creepy thoughts. Arrgh.).

Again, I am just doodling, electronic style.

I am still tired. The things I have been doing recently (well, actually, since August) have driven me into a maniacal state (actually, I am already in a maniacal state long before I got this job, but my condition got worse).

Last Friday, we gave our wish lists to our supervisor and just recently, I had a realization that i was asking for too much… My wish list didn’t even fit the bulletin board that the generous giver who picked my name (he or she has committed a big mistake picking my name, and I am lucky.hehe) has to go to our supervisor to get my wish list. I just asked for a few copies of movies and books… Okay, so the movies are hard to find, and the books… well, some of them cost too much, but heck, it’s Christmas.hehe.

I haven’t felt what Christmas feels like yet. I think Dr. Seuss reincarnated the identity of The Grinch in me. It’s really amazing that for the 21 years that I have been living, it’s only now that I am able to realize that there’s a mental state such as this wherein you feel absolutely nothing about the things around you. Sure, there are occasional outbursts of guilt, anger, and compassion, but I couldn’t believe that I am actually submitting myself to the throng of nothingness… I really need to see a shrink right now.

My blog title is courtesy of Jean Paul Sarte (kumpare ko… nah, he’s a philosopher) - - -  "Hell is other people," from his existential play, "No Exit." Again, I am proving that thought to be true in the place that I am in now. Truly, there’s nothing (or perhaps just a teeny bit) wrong with the world. The other people that we see everyday or most of the time, or for even once in your life, deprive you of the state of nirvana. Let me set an example: Got fired from your job and you don’t even know why? Blame your boss for being such an inconsiderate freak (blame yourself partly too, but I am not rubbing it in). Got a juicy scandal about you circulating the four corners of the office or school? Blame your gossip-monger friend. You have a hard time socializing in your neighborhood (like me)? Blame your neighbor. I can set a lot of examples about it but I’d rather not, because you’ll definitely think that I am worse than a maniacal psychopath.

Don’t get me wrong - - I am not going to morph into a psychopathic freak. Sure, the things that I write are very negative thoughts, but I still believe in the true nature of goodness and unity (this is written for the sake of the Christmas season).

I miss being a kid. When you’re a kid, you have nothing to worry about except getting out that snot from your nose because you couldn’t breathe. When you’re hurt and crying, your mother rinses your wound with Safeguard and kisses you until you feel that you’re safe again. When you’re all grown up, all of those things transform into a mere veneer of thoughts, disillusioning you, drugging you like heck, that you feel that you’ve fallen in a sort of false euphoria after 15 minutes or so. Arggh…

I have occasional outbursts of creativity this morning. Woo-hoo! This hasn’t happened for a long time. Magpapa-pansit ako (that’s the way Filipinos do it when they are happy. Somebody has a birthday? Pansit. Somebody has anniversary? Pansit. Somebody died? Pansit with puto).

If I can only have the power to mentally tell my ears to produce earwax as much as they can everytime I hear Black Eyed Peas’  "My Humps" and that song by Sugarbabes (who knows what title is it), I will tell them to block my eardrums with as much wax as possible. Have you ever listened closely to that song? It says something like, "What are you gonna do with all that breasts inside your shirt?" and "You love my humps, my lovely lady lumps." Here, is an explicit way to say that women are just sexual objects, and they get through what they want by exposing their butts to the first guy they meet. Tell me that I am a bit feministic in here, or I am a little modest and conservative, but i know the difference between smut or pornography and eroticism. And that, my friends, is pure smut. a degradation of the feminine aspect of humanity (shit, ang bigat nun). And what about that Sugarbabes song? "Push the button and let me know/ Before i get the wrong idea…" is a portrayal of a sexually repressed female. WHAT THE HELL WERE THE SONGWRITERS THINKING ABOUT COMPOSING SOME REALLY CHEAP SONGS? Why couldn’t they compose songs which carry a meaning to it, like this one by Travis, "Why does it always rain on me?,?" which goes like this: Why does it always rain on me?/ It is because i lied when I was seventeen?" and a part of that song goes like, "I see a tunnel at the end of all of these lights…/ Sunny days, where have you gone/ I get the strangest feeling/ You belong." That song might belong to the mid-90’s but at least it has class. It’s methaporically speaking of the condition of the human species. What’s that condition? BEING DOOMED.

At least it’s not about sex.

Some things occurred to me yesterday when I was going home, trying to suppress my vomit when I got of the bus (believe me, it happens, it’s like straight from a scene from a movie) because I got a hell of a good sniff of the worse than acrid smell of vomit and phelgm, for who know knows what else that smell was, coupled with the smell of a smelly man selling peanuts over at Baclaran (yes, i know, the length of this sentence is a no-no for grammar rules) - - two things:

1. that the world is a big freak show

2. that I am an anti-social freak.

Perhaps this is just all because of that nasty smell yesterday, acting as a sort of unexplainable addictive substance that rots my brain even more.

I will be able to prove that the world is a big freak show on our Christmas party. It’s a children’s party/carnival/stand-up comedy show trying hard to be a play/a big way to make a fool of oneself. Yup, it has all those things and more. And I’m part of the freak show. I do not intend to be sarcastic or indifferent or just plain snobbish about the things going on in my daily screwed-up environment, but I am declaring that the world is indeed a whole lot freakish once you see people breaking out like hell. I myself am breaking out like hell. It’s traumatic. Even if I am naturally a weirdo, a manic-depressive individual of this place called the Philippines, it’s still pretty traumatic. It’s like a moment out of my kindergarten days when I have to do what the teacher says:

"Anne, just stay put."

"Yes, ma’am."

"Anne, put your pencil up your nose."

"Y…Yes, ma’am."

We are all under a mafia. Something or somebody controls us with his or her filthy hands and he or she likes to see us suffer.

This does not make any sense. I am just "doodling," electronic style.

The things I have written very well proves the second thought that occurred to me: I am an anti- social freak. Sure, I do have a set of friends that I associate myself with, have fun with and do weird and freaky stuffs with, but come to think of it, I only have 7 or 10 people I talk with in the office and that’s it. There’s "inay," "itay," my so-called "sisters," the extended family and that’s it. When it comes to other people from the outside world, the people in the bus and all sort of stuff, I shrug and cringe at the thought of them. Is it just pure intimidation of the elite life that they live? Is it the fact that the others engross themselves in some big time power tripping, controlling us like poor marionnettes over a string? Is it because of the fact that I am just tired of my life? Wooo boy… I am depressed and I need to see a shrink big time.