thoughts before an interview

was sorting out some desk clutter when i saw a piece of paper, folded in half, thrice. it revealed some gibberish i wrote pre-interview at an FMCG company 3 years ago when i was 20. this helped me diffuse anxiety. in this particular stream of consciousness, there was a lot of reference to my pre-interview at ogilvy. the memory of ogilvy’s red pantone 485 consumed me like shit.

here goes:

the elevator sounds sound like drips, like raindrops, like it’s raining in the lobby. not cacophonous at all. maybe bothersome to the man who types contemptuously at his old machine. drip, drip, drip. (less ding, ding, ding)

this is a different kind of weight. the god of ennui lurks in this small hallway. i can see no reds except for thin lines here and there. none of the sanguine field of carpet, saffron wall of wall. just nondescript marble partnered with wooden 90s architecture.

my mouth yearns to talk. my mind needs to by stimulated by conversation.
to crane the neck. to mouth an “ahh”. to continue this dumb exercise. i guess to speak with the self is enough.

then a woman in pearls comes by. but she does not sit with me. she sits with a man – her father?

lazy jaw, dry mouth, nape as cold as the gate 6 cement. also a slight pain in the abdomen. i try to fight these physical sensations which converge into a midpoint – drowsiness.

drip, drip, drip. smash, smash, smash. no howls. just beats with notes. notes in cryptic beat. which lull me, which induce the sleepy feeling. i do not sit on a red block, but on a blue very uncomfortable couch. hugging my butt. but not quite my abdomen in pain. i wish it would.

i am not priming myself properly.
so it shall ensue:
confidence, poise, wit, composure.

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oh sunday morning i love you like i love a full glass of Funky Monkey milkshake from Mr Jones
your slats of light kiss the pavement and windows, so gently
oh sunday morning your inherent lethargy is enchanting
you are the perfect drug to a faux poet lazy ass

taste is

the most powerful sensation

the combination of the deadly {tactile, olfactory, gustatory}
perceives
the smoothness, or roughness, the thick, thick flesh, the pulp, the minute grain, plastic, the viscosity, fluidity, the fizz, the stench, the aroma, the cloying sweet, detergent, rot, spice, a sunday morning, love, infidelity, desperation

and this perceived–
it becomes part of you

second tuesday

to have committed sin
is to sing the song of gods
it is to hear a cacophony
in an infinite crescendo and decrescendo
it is an open wound at the back of your head
so you try to keep the flies away
your hands with pristine skin have the
faintest smell of sardines
a nagging stink from the inside
an eclipse is in your mouth
it tingles
you feel dark and dangerous

a dream, a painting, and solitude

Persistence of Memory room mural
i am my memories
i am my dreams and actions
i am my energy

i take myself to a strange dimension
it is not near nor far,
because (here,now) time and space are irrelevant
this is a planet with many suns
a place where clocks are smoldered

i sit on a rock and i stare at a vapid brown, a mountain,
and a lake. i don’t think of distance nor chronology
i think about satisfying my hunger and thirst
but i prefer to sprawl my legs beside this flesh with the long lashes,
and this box. inertia.

my fatigued body seeks rest. i close my eyes
but i still see the same beauty, the same loneliness

first tuesday

in the dream i had last night, a person died.
there was no story, nor blood, nor grief, nor body
but there was a death.
a vague loss.

the vagueness consumes me
but i don’t resist the unknown, i revel
in absence and the cold air and smell of ink
and the infinite dark
or light. i don’t know
why i am comforted by the thought of
nothing but the thought of death

on economics and changing the world

Economics is the field of study which can directly influence the welfare of humans. Economic policies goad market movements and prices, consumption, investments, and savings, which inflict real impact on the population’s well-being. I realized this 2 weeks ago when we shopped for Noche Buena goods, and prices were gog damn high. I thought some macroeconomic policy could have influenced the prices. (And I can only do so much in digital advertising. It is a heavy sentiment.)

But the power economics wields is merely romantic. The concepts are highly theoretical and ideal. And people who have the real heart to alleviate their country’s/ the world’s condition, at the same time have a knack for the craft, and have the resource and charisma to implement it are almost fictional.

Maybe Monsod is the closest economist who realized this. And she chose to spend her scarce time resource to teaching and inspiring her students, which can potentially yield exponential results–more economists with honor and excellence.

I wish I realized this early on. It would have given me inspiration and strength to be good at the craft. Unfortunately the big picture answer to “why economics?” came to me 7 years late. I hope economics students recognize that they have the potential to make the world a better place. (Cheesy, but why not :P)