My brother got the call from "the Post Office" two days ago. He forwarded me their message. I was to appear before these people and take another eligibility test designed to weed out the unworthy. While I did not like the timing, I felt I could beat the test. Apparently, it's all I've been doing lately-- passing out my resumes, filling application forms and taking one prospective employee test after another.
Well, I did mention in a previous post that I was wondering what exactly happened to my application at the Philippine Postal Corporation. Don't get me wrong-- I was happy they called. I just wish they'd moved the exam a coupla days after today.
Dog Days, Hard Day's Nights
Y'see, I was trying to avoid another one of my "Road to Hell" episodes, and having to psychically prep for another exam so laden with consequence was baggage I did not need to carry. "Road to Hell," by the by, is an apt euphemism, at least for me. It's what I call the downward spiral that commences the when, after a really bad dog day, you decide not to sleep to get something else done, while prepping for the morrow-- which promises, in the manner of all dog days, to be just as bad as the day before. Bad enough that it's too easy to nosedive into "Road to Hell": but two weeks of this and I can guarantee that I look like Gerry Alanguilan's main protagonist gone postal in Wasted.
I am between jobs but that has not stopped me from being ridiculously busy. I swear, I am the busiest bum in the universe. Things are set in motion in my name (mostly by my concerned parents) and I don't know a thing about them until they come 'round to bite me in the butt. They start rolling the snowball but I have to catch the resulting avalanche of paperwork, "public appearances," legwork, follow-ups and exercises in legal flapjack. Meanwhile, I feel increasingly ...inept, as if my life were (again!) no longer my own. Mea culpa: I let 'em walk all over me. Doesn't help that the standard Dex plan is usually "no plan."
I Got Yer "Plan" Right Here, Ya Little #$#%!!!
As soon as I get employed and the money comes rolling in, I am moving out of the QC house for good. I will fortify my temporary Pasay residence. I will paint. I will fatten my scared cash cow at the local bank. I will buy myself my own computer and that blue RAV 4 I've been dreaming about. And it begins as soon as I can shuffle my
Pray for me. I know I am.