Penguin!

(My recent testimonial exploits apparently gained the interest of a poor, sorry soul, tsk, tsk... And who am I to resist such an unfathomable opportunity to deliberately fabricate the truth, cast in the sarcastic and cynical text of nothing more than my highly exaggerated, remotely fictitious, and brutally astute, yet often comically falsified, observations?)

Among the many sights and sounds of the corporate grasslands of Habul Peké, one creature naturally stands out. The large, flightless bird, the Rhea (scientifically named, "Cumlaudeum numberfiveus"), is truly a beast of wonder, one whose peculiar behavior causes instantaneous alarm to nearby dwellers, who wishful-thinkingly flee at the mere presence of the loud and obnoxious beast. Often, you'll come across the large, flightless bird with a smug look on its face, what with its haughty attitude and stuck-up mentality, it being fifth (and steadily rising) in the hierarchical ladder of the common species after all.

Recent studies prove that this wondrous creature has personality synonymous to the stereotypical "superficial high-schooler", as you'll often see it prancing around the perimeter with a supposed cheery disposition, all giggly and giddy and such, especially during mating season, when it smittenly, almost stalkingly, crushes on a member of the opposite sex. Meanwhile, if it doesn't have its way, it will pull off what appears to be a passable human tantrum, very much like that of a small, snooty, and spoiled five-year-old brat. Even more surprising is its inclination to the queer lingo of post-modern human society. You'll often hear strange noises and bizarre sounds escaping from this being's mouth, eerily resembling homosexually slurred and intoned words, whether for mimickery, mockery or otherwise, by accident, by choice, or by sheer, dumb stroke of natural freakshowness, it is beyond human comprehension.

The large, flightless bird is of no noble origin, it seems. It moves with such ungrace, its mobility exemplifying its blatant disregard for the art of delicacy, equipped with its almost-monstrous-sounding guffaws & greetings (variations of which include high-pitched, irritating gaiety, or weak attempts at a scary war cry, completed with attacking monster-raised limbs), it is no wonder the majority of the bestial kind all get taken aback at first encounter with this beast. After the initial introductory shock has subsided, though, it is all a matter of deciding whether to be pleasantly surprised, instinctively threatened, immediately repulsed, or whatnot. This momentary lapse in judgment, due to the complexity of the presented situation, is apparently the creature's favorite form of attack.

There are many other qualities that the large, flightless bird possess that still baffles and boggles the human mind. For instance, its undeniable urge for popularity, recognition, and camaraderie. Or its obsessive compulsion towards its self-proclaimed greatness. Or the hypocritical desire to stick to its convictions. These are just some of the things the corporate grasslands of Habul Peké have to endure and tolerate with this monstrosity of nature on a daily basis. Keep in mind, though, that these traits and attributes prove that this creature is on a self-evolutionary mission, reshaping the future for its own, selfish reasons. Yet no matter what we choose to do with this creature, whether love it or hate it, preserve it or hunt it down to extinction, butter it up or pull it down to its demise, we should always remember, this bird is large and flightless.

:p

***

Quotable quote, not necessarily related to this post, but noteworthy nonetheless:

"I know that guy in those emails is inside you. But I can't wait for him. Because waiting for you is like waiting for rain in this drought, useless and disappointing." - Sam Montgomery, A Cinderella Story...

She Walks By Night...

(A Friendster testimonial, recounting the falsified events of an adulterated tale.)

...in all her long-legged glory, pausing dramatically to allow for prying, estranged eyes to bask in her statuesque beauty. Eyes adrift toward the nearby glass windows of the flippy, floppy shop she so unabashedly adores, her mind wandering, not really caring for the feet merchandise contained within the enclosed space, but more inclined towards the primal animalistic craving for the attention that she knows is for her and her alone, her one human need: the deeply hidden urge to be seen, to be heard, to be noticed.

Her face a blank passive slate at the surface, almost askance. Yet behind her jaded eyes one simply needs to look to see the soul of one who secretly, yet knowingly, is aware of all the eyes cast upon her... and is loving it. Raising a hand delicately to caress the cold glass of the window she leans closer and pretends to peer inside, while still maintaining her consciousness of the hustle and bustle of the world around her. She hates the feel of movement. The more her surroundings move, the more it connotes the lack of commonfolk, peasants more like, admiring her unearthly beauty. She cringes her forehead a little, though not so much as for people to actually take notice.

The crowd quickly thins, and she feels the visual penetration diminish. The utter lack of gawking overwhelms her, as if they provide for her warmth, almost as if she suddenly feels the cold harshness of the superficial world without them. Feeling a small amount of desperation to reclaim those once staring eyes, she starts to move, majestically, her self-portrayal of a moving photograph. The desire quickly building from deep within, she makes a sudden play for her languorous chocolate hair, and takes an abrupt turn. The liquid smoothness bouncing to the side, she knew she was on center stage again.

She looks up for the first time, and behold a prettier girl than she, walking languidly towards the flippy, floppy shop. And she was struck with the realization, that she had not been the center of the masses' devout attention. Crestfallen, she takes a stride to sort of even up the score, what with model-like walk, no one stands a chance...

...but she trips.

Soft murmurs envelope her. Scandalized, all pretenses gone, she looks at her cloudy reflection from the light bouncing off the mirroring glass window of the flippy, floppy shop she used to so unabashedly adore. A single tear, so pure & innocent, the extention of vulnerability and weakness long pent up beneath a false exterior, drops slowly, almost as if on purpose, almost as if on cue, down the side of her reddened cheek. Shame had caused her to bow her head so low.

And then a voice, "O Pauline, anong ginagawa mo diyan?"

She looks up and beams. Her hope returning. Her pulse quickened. She was once again alive. But by the time the drama subsided, and her mind was focused enough to register the face to the floating voice, Dc had gone and left. He dared not be thought of as in acquainted relations with such an embarrassing feat.

She realizes so, and shame engulfs her again...

:p

***

Quotable quote, not necessarily related to the post, but noteworthy nonetheless:
"Destiny is a name often given in retrospect to choices that had dramatic consequences." - J.K. Rowling, The J.K. Rowling Official Site...

Old Poems Die Hard...

Woe Is Me
by moi

Although I jest,
I am no fool.
I know it's just an act.
For beneath the masks
Of laughter and friendship,
Lies the plain and painful fact.

I love you.
I know I do,
And that I can no longer deny.
For I have been hiding
For the longest time being
Pretending I was your ally.

And now, I fear,
Friendship will no longer suffice.
My sanity, I feel it slipping.
For when each agonizing day passes,
And every lonely night transcends,
My heart, it keeps on falling.

But despite my lies,
My friendship was true
And it shall remain so until forever.
Because death shall befall upon meIf I lose you twice;
As a love, and as a friend, altogether.

My secret, it has been let out,
That my poor, poor heart fell so deeply.
And now that the truth has been revealed,
I hope and I pray to God almighty,
That you, dearly beloved, take me seriously.
For if you leave, I fear I won't survive,
Though I know a friend is all how you'll see me.
But what more if you decide to return the favor,
By putting a nasty little joke on me,
And break my heart into a hundred and fifty?

Woe is me...

:(

***

Quotable quote, not necessarily related to this post, but noteworthy nonetheless:

She chose to walk alone
Though others wondered why
Refused to look before her
Kept eyes cast upwards toward the sky

She has no companions
No need for earthly things
Only wanted freedom
From what she felt were puppet strings

She longed to be a bird
So she might fly away
She pitied every blade of grass
For planted they would stay

She longed to be a flame
That brightly danced alone
Felt jealous of the steam
That made the air its only home

Some say she wished too hard
Some say she wished too long
But we awoke one autumn day
To find that she was gone

The trees they say stood witness
The sky refused to tell
Yet someone who had seen it said
The story played out well

She spread her arms out wide
Breathed in the break of dawn
She just let go of all she held...
...and she was gone.

- Ginger Foutley, As Told By Ginger...

My Critiquing Opinionatedness: The Giver (Book)

(Plot)

Jonas lives in the futuristic world of Sameness, where color is too individualistic to be real, weather is controlled to perfection, comprehension of emotions require specification into more simplistic verbs, and people's lives are predetermined and designated by a special committee. Reality, as we know it now, is but a distant memory.

During the auspicious Ceremony of Twelve, when children are assigned what they are to become for the remainder of their lives, Jonas gets selected to become successor to the Receiver of Memory (who then becomes the Giver), the one person in the Community who holds life's secret memories. Under his training and tutelage, Jonas learns that life should hold more to it than what has been the norm over the years. With now-open eyes, he sees the "wrongness" of their picture-perfect world, and with this realization in mind and in heart, Jonas embarks on a journey of rediscovering the life that should have been, the life that is actually worth living.

(Review)

The Giver definitely proves to be one of the greatest coming-of-age stories of its time. It gives new meaning to the word "soul", and it will satisfy you at a different, mature level. I actually believe that it is rather human of Lowry to have recreated such an unfolding of a life, ironically towards our present (which is their past), through the innocence of a small child, who is then forced into maturity so early in life in order to save that which he holds so dear, and pursue what his heart dictates as right.

For her writing, Lowry sometimes overanalyzes the situations presented in the story, which could leave her readers somewhat bored, and forget about the actual gist of the scene. However, the idea of this brand new world (which I still find utterly ingenious), is so enticing and piquing, that one would still continue to read on to continue exploring how this particular world, and all its wonders, is actually like.

The book also leaves more questions unanswered than conclusions. Readers can only make up their own theories about what happened after the book, leading me to the notion that the ending was rushed, unless it was the author's intention to essentially and purposefully leave her readers hanging like that or what have you. For whatever reasons they may be, though, I find this to be an unsuccessful conclusion to a great build-up of eventful accounts. I can't help but feel, much to my dismay, that the gradual swell of emotions this book brings forth along with its chapters fell quite flat, and the breathlessness it causes subsided rather quickly and insipidly.

Regardless of its finale, however, I still hold the rest of the book in high regard, and recommend it to young adults, as well as for mature adults, who may be feeling lost in life. The values and lessons this book instill will provide a better perspective on anyone's present life. I sense, however, that some parts this book illustrates to the imagination may be a tad bit morbid for very young children, and might possibly leave them dazed and depressed. Let them live a little first, I say.

A 4 out of 5. :p

:)

***

Quotable quote, not necessarily related to this post, but noteworthy nonetheless:
"Sometimes you have to see what you're not, in order to see what you are." - girl God, Joan of Arcadia...

Do Think to Outdo

For a lost iPod...

Outthinking, outdoing. This is Convergys' slogan. Highly regarded for its excellence, & widely popularized by its standards, Convergys has become somewhat of a legend in the industry, and with it, the responsibility to uphold the name it has created for itself over the short period of time from when it started operating. Be that as it may, Convergys has now imparted upon itself the difficult task of quality control. It may not seem much, but maintenance is actually a much harder challenge than it presents itself to be. So how does the company keep up with the everchanging problems of daily operation?

Thinking perfected by doing, & doing perfected by thinking. This is the Convergys way. Or at least the ideal company's way. Meticulously speaking, perfection is impossible, not to mention unattainable. This is a known reality. Yet Convergys has proven its worth, not by aiming for perfection, but for standardization, for control. By eliminating perfection as an option, it actually becomes perfection in its own right.

To think before acting is what the company imparts on its associates, while still ensuring that their acts remain deeds of a working mind. Ingeniously imagined, this connotes the continuous utilization of the mind, as it so commonly chooses to deteriorate over daily abuse in fields of operations. This, in turn, allows for close proximity between that of quality and efficiency. Numerous problems arise in the work environment daily. This mentality ensures that the workforce tries to minimize such problems from recurring, if not from happening at all. It is a continuous learning process.

Although I have not experienced any problem that majorly affected the effectiveness of the organization, more evidence it seems that the workplace is closely monitored, I find that it is not the larger picture that we should be looking at but the more minute details, unto which the picture structures its foundation. By ensuring that the simple things are accounted for, the workforce makes preventive measures which eliminates the need to deal with larger, more difficult problems later on. Even fixing a broken phone immediately can help improve the organization's productivity. A lot of times I myself have had some problems locating a usable phone upon the start of my shift. Ensuring and accommodating for such a small and simple detail would not only eliminate the pre-shift hustle and bustle, but would also get the organization closer to 100% effectivity. In business, time is always of the essence, and every minute lost always accounts for an equivalent monetary amount. And what business in its right mind would choose to allow losses to be incurred without any compensation whatsoever? The main idea, after all, of any business organization is to generate greater profit than that of its losses.

To sum it up, there is no one scenario that I can specifically identify and pinpoint with which the organization exemplified exceptional operation, what with the short time I have worked here. However, it is my own understanding that excellence, in whatever aspect, is accomplished through the people who work for its achievement. So Convergys, to me, has exemplified excellence in its operation when it lucked out and hired the right kind of people. For it is through the people, those who withstand and work under the daily demands of the workplace, those that actually and continuously choose to use their wits and common sense to play to their strengths and maximize their potentials, those that have the integrity and dedication to work incessantly, productively and wholeheartedly, and finally those people that work together as one team with a common goal, that Convergys actually maintains the excellence in operation it so truly deserves. It is a two-way relationship where both parties learn to give and take from each other for the sake of producing and delivering actual, feasible, and tangible results.

Working for Convergys has allowed me of the privilege of realizing a very important work ethic: the workplace is not a playground. It is not to be taken lightly & it should not be compared to any sort of playful rendezvous. And in spite of the severity of it all, it is always safe, if not a necessity, to admit to oneself that the workplace is not perfection. It ironically is like a sheltered child, constantly needing parental attention, or a delicate mechanism requiring the employment of continuous maintenance. I took it upon myself to notice such observations not for the sake of it, but to realize the beauty of it all, amidst all imperfection, the beauty that is the company's organization. For the beauty here is not the company's aesthetic implications, but what it does and what it can potentially accomplish, and what it tries to achieve. This, to me, is how every business organization should operate - with excellence.

:(

***

Quotable quote not exactly related to this post but noteworthy nonetheless:

"Nothing is as big as your first love." - caption, Little Manhattan trailer...

"Biro lang," - An Overanalysis of The Martyr's Ultimate Response

"Biro lang," would never mean the same again. It's so ironic how the phrase used to make one realize that the acts that just transpired between persons are nothing to be taken seriously, a phrase that usually connotes laughter and fun, can just as equally be a truly sad, sad phrase. It struck me as odd that "biro lang", a phrase i have used my entire life, carries so much truth and honesty in between its lines, and yet I've never really stopped to read them. Somehow it had always been just that fun phrase for friendly musings, and yet, if used in such a certain appropriate manner, can mean so much more. More, here, in the sense where the fairy tale is taken away from that ubiquitous romantic movie, and the guy is suddenly forced to accept the harsh reality that maybe, just maybe, he might not get the girl in the happy ending after all.

HOW TO TAKE THE ROMANCE OUT OF THE ROMANTIC MOVIE

So where exactly does the martyr fit into all this, you ask? He's the one who said "biro lang". He's the hero in the aforementioned movie who chose rationality over fantasy, when he made his choice not to delve in the possibility of love, when asked of the romantic tension between him and his leading lady, in order to salvage what little closeness he has with her, the ultimate dilemma whenever love is concerned, one of his dearest friends. Yes, unconventional as it may seem that a happy ending is not what's in store for this so-called romantic movie, it seems like the mind ruled over the heart in this story, not exactly the element plot twist most producers look for in a good romantic movie. So what made this hero opt for misery instead of one shot at a possible life of happiness brought about by love? Simple. Uncertainty caused by the lack of visible signs. Practicality made it easy for the mind to dictate to the heart to let this one pass, it seems. The guy would much rather settle for comfortable, laughter-filled friendship, than awkward, tension-filled acquaintance. Yes, truly a classic martyr's love story.

TO BE, OR NOT TO BE

Here's a scenario. Boy meets girl, and boy goes crazy. Boy gets close, girl acts nonchalant, even somewhat remotely irked by the mere possibility of a hovering relationship. Boy tries to pretend everything's a joke, jesting about his concealed affections toward her, girl keeps him at bay and retaliates, using his issues with a different girl as ammunition. Boy keeps up charade, perfectly content with their constant flirting, and girl finally notices, she's not stupid, after all. So what does boy do when girl pops him the "ano-ba-talaga" question? Boy confesses, right? Wrong. Boy thinks, overanalyzes the situation, and in world record-breaking speed, delivers the martyr's most unceremonious ultimate answer - "biro lang".

THE TRUTH, AND NOTHING BUT

There are many possible reasons why the martyr would choose to act on impulse like that and opt to lie about his feelings. But the one thing that easily comes to mind is fear. Fear that he might get rejected. Fear that she would not return his sentiments. Fear that they might drift apart afterwards because of the would-be-present malice she would incessantly associate with his motives. Fear that in order to uncomplicate things, she would much rather choose not to speak with him ever again, and keep the tension-filled air around them unresolved, his own heart left a-flutter, dwelling on the things that could have been. Fear that he might lose whatever it is that they have right now, never to be brought up again in any conversation, not even as a common household joke. It is so easy for the martyr to keep up his pretenses if the happiness of the one he likes is at stake. It is so easy to focus on rationalizing the situation and coming up with the less adventurous (in other, more simplistic terms, safe) solution to the pressing matters-of-the-heart. Martyrs are no risk-takers. They would rather settle for something at their own expense unless the path is completely cleared of any and every obstacle that blocks it. Sometimes, however incomprehensible it may seem, they would be contented by seeing their special persons happy, not bothered by such trivial issues as that of their own measley, stupid affections. Sometimes the martyr finds it alright to love that one special person just along the sidelines, and not bother to be on center stage. This is what the martyr does, apparently, no explanations necessary. After all, he considers the world of her, and to the martyr, that is justifiable reason enough.

Academy Award-winner Angelina Jolie once said in her scandalously delicious movie, Original Sin, "You cannot walk away from love." If this is really the case, then to the martyr, love will just be, always and forever, a never ending chase.

:p

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Quotable quote, not necessarily related to this post, but noteworthy nonetheless:
"The past is like a foreign country. They do things differently there. But the past continues to live on. It haunts us in our every move. We should not fear the past for it is already over. It is the unknown future we must fear." - Splinter, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles...