This caricature was drawn by Ardie Aquino on the day when all things around became a matter of self-preservation. We were fishing for ideas for his comics, and dinosaurs, bathroom jokes, and imaginable dreams came out.

Naturally, this guy has all the guts.

On January 31st, I didn’t know all the stories.

Perhaps, the girl we saw the afternoon of January 31st was weeping. At my imagination, the sadness might be choking her. I am not mostly bothered why she had to do that: Go down on her knees and beg for her boy to come back. I am actually bothered about the choking part.

I know that feeling, FYI—throat is so firm that the more you prevent the crying, the more you feel like choking, or diving into a hot frying pan.

I didn’t know the detailed story but from what I heard, they might be experiencing a plummeting, hopeless relationship. I didn’t care.

I don’t care if the guy might have been called as pogi or heartthrob by his friends, but to make someone beg for your love or just the lone idea of making her beg is not so gwapo at all.

Anyhow, I must say that I put up all the déjà vu that day.

That night, I also witnessed a girl, who apparently managed to cry and talk at the same time, choked in the middle of her words.

Same reason.

I never bothered to listen because I might also feel that same choking sensation, especially seeing a tearful face talking about something, and words, saliva and Red Horse bursting inside out almost at the same time.

A great way to welcome February 2012. Will all things be in the same rolling?

I don’t know.

***

Since it was the last day of January, I expected a good night at Cheesecake, etc. Since it was their last day, I just thought that Cheesecake etc. deserved a good night for the last time.

I may not be a Cheesecake fan, but I will surely miss it. With Cheesecake shutting down, Sodexho territory in Eastwood lessned. Also, Yell Adworks employee’s 10-percent discount will no longer be benefited.

Sad.

Miss Mara gave me a key that she bought in Toledo, Spain where, according to her, high-quality forged swords, keys and other metal products are made.

I am vastly amused by the key she gave me and how it made me rekindle my childhood. I am holding onto her words that she just did not buy the key alone, but also a castle. I seriously believed that she bought that key with an open challenge: To find the perfect fit for the key.

So I stood to that challenge and promised to visit Spain and find the corresponding lock of the key.

To my surprise, the childhood that I was suddenly reminded was the dreams I once dreamed of, things that I promised to achieve or things I wanted to become on the day I became, with any luck or quite apart from having that luck, grown up.

Of course, I do not know what could have possibly happened when I was six or seven. All I know is that I dreamed of fairy tales, meeting Santa Claus, and flying—wishing them all to be true.

I always wanted to be a swordsman or a knight. With the entire masculine outfit or any historic sword-fighting wear, anyone I loved will be saved. I’ll fight dragons, burn witches, kiss princesses. I will be grand.

The key also reminded me how things have gone, things that did not happen because I cannot do what I said to be done, just because I am not aware that I should do it, and just because I never knew anything about it.

In short, it made me realize that there are things that will make you believe, while some will give you false hopes, or simply things that you just can’t do.

By the way, I should have said beforehand that this is not just about fairy tales, ‘living happily ever after’ and ‘once upon a time.’

***

To talk more about the key and how it relates my childish part, it touched a memory when I was in the middle of daydreaming somewhere in 1997 where I found out daydreaming is just a waste of time.

To tell you the truth, looking back at that distinct section of my childhood, I doubted if Cinderella and other fairy tales stories were true. It is, of course. Just lesser of being skeptical, I knew many Cinderella-ish people and they proved the true out of it with less castles, knights, kings and queens, and exaggeration of fairy god mothers.

But to get a free ride of fairy tales, I wholly believed it, whole-heartedly.

For instance, my grandmother used to force us to go for a siesta. She used to say, “The witches are having a party outside the house for their regular afternoon meal.

“Young lad, sleep for they are ready for the kill.”

At the back of my mind, I said, “Eh? Come on! I am now ready for a witch-hunt. Please let me hunt them instead. I will protect you.”

Moreover, the key also reminded me how old I have now become especially these past few months.

When I am still young, I always perceive that when people get older, the more stupid they become, like how the Little Prince see people when he showed his drawing of hat-slash-boa constrictor-eating-elephant.

For one, I never enjoyed the bandwagon of Santa Claus and reindeer and gifts. Before, during Christmas, I stayed awake the whole night when Santa Claus was supposed to clumsily slide down the chimney and tip-toe.

At first, I doubted that Santa Claus was a fraud. I was correct.

Through a half-lit room, I kept my eyes wide open for a show-stopper. I was not surprised that my aunts were there. They looked stupid, really.

Today is my one-year-three-months post as a proofreader. Since October 2011, my daily mantra would be “I hate my job! I hate my job!” So today, it just occured to me a realization of want-to-quit-my-job-but-can’t.

After lunch, while I was in the middle of reading, a thought just overshadowed everything and just left me totally blackout. This led me for my today’s remarkable realization.

Will everything change if I just walkout, take off and leave my job high and dry?

All I wanted to do today is to hit my head hard on the nearest surface. Headlong. Bang!

I wanted to throw everything away: keyboard, monitors, chairs, papers.

Go up and go. Go up and go. Go up and go.

Proofreading might not be a dream job for me but the situation left me with no choice.

The truth is: I like my job. I feel satisfied, people are nice, pretty good at what I do and my 15-month stint as a proofreader might be one of the things that I really feel proud of.

This might be a ‘bad rap.’

So in order to console everything and to pull myself back to positivity, I just did what I love doing at work: Playing dead.

Sleeping

Shrimps

One of the most memorable words that I may never forget, perhaps because of its narrower version of definition or I just find it interesting, is SHRIMP.

I have this friend who introduced this ‘false name” and eventually made own definitions for the sake of naming things as such.

Sooner or later, a new word materialized. Below is Ate Mi’s immortalized new word as defined by this wordplay:

Self-shrimp: Excessive or exclusive concern with oneself while swimming rapidly backwards. They can be found anywhere and are engaged in multiplying to the extent to rule the world.

Self-shrimps generally are important source of one’s larger self. They have a high tolerance of annoyance that contributes nothing but shrimp-ness to others.

They are widely caught and farmed for human destruction.

I heard that Six Sigma is widely known in business management. Since it has been very useful to the industry sectors, I quite find a need to be developed as one of the people who sit and think what might the next days be like in the world of business.

Luckily, this certification is available online. So cheers because I just passed the Six Sigma Certification – Six Sigma White Belt, despite not being widely recognized in the Six Sigma community.