When I got laid off at 27, I thought I was too young to be laid off. I should’ve known better — no one is. I knew what was going to happen the night before, because the calendar invite sent to me, at 9 pm, was from HR and the venue on the invite was set outside of the office. There was only one reason why I had to meet with HR outside of the office. I slept that night thinking, “I won’t have a job after tomorrow,” and dressed my hair up in lovely braids the next morning. If it was going to be the worst day of that week, I believed I should meet it splendidly.
When I was 19, I published this status message on my very new Facebook wall: “If you can’t blind them with your bullshit, dazzle them with your brilliance.” I can’t remember what possessed me when I wrote that, but I guess I was in the similar frame of mind eight years later. Ish. I didn’t dress up as fabulously as I should have. I was laid off along with 1/3 of the office. Some of them who also lost their job just moved to Singapore a few months before. They were probably going to break their lease. It was a good thing I was only renting a room. Their circumstances seemed more unfair, but no amount of silver linings made me feel any less uprooted than that moment when my big boss handed me that getting-laid-off-letter.
Right before I published my first post in two years, I’ve asked on Twitter what some friends would like to read about, and Mica asked for weird/unusual expat life stories. It’s been four months and twenty days since I’ve moved to this city (it feels longer) and I’ve gone through new experiences and some struggles, but none of them are weird…or unusual. It feels like my move here is a bit more tame and less exciting than my first move to Singapore (where I had my debit card eaten by the ATM within the first week). I’d like to think I’ve grown a little wiser these past few years.
I’ve been in a melancholic mood over the weekend from tidying up this blog and skimming through memories.
I’ve been bulldozing through the last 12 months: 3 months looking for jobs, another 4 stuck in anxiety waiting for my work visa, followed by 2 months of misery and fear because of the Philippine government’s incompetency and OEC restrictions. Anxiety hovered around me during the last 3 months as I kept a mental checklist of things to do before I am settled down: get my tax number, find a place to rent, renew passport, file tax. Month in and out, there’s always something important I have to put in order. In the middle of all these, I might have conveniently underestimated what it meant to relocate andseeing some old posts, even from 2016, reminded me of things I’ve left behind.
I originally wanted to go to the Singapore Night Festival activities last night but it was so crowded I felt like I was sweating buckets in my skirt. Haha. It ended up being a night photo walk instead, as a test run for my LG G4.
This post is a bit late, but I feel that 2014 deserves a dedicated post to help me recount where I am in life now; what my previous goals were for the last year, and what I have achieved.
2014 is a bit of a murky year. I moved jobs thrice, and I have failed and succeeded in different things. I moved out, but not only from my parents’ house, but also to a different (but familiar) country.
Listening to the search experience talk immediately made me think about my own moving-from-Philippines-to-Singapore experience. I learned that we are information seeking creatures, and there are search-situations where we find things to make a decision (or decisions). In this case: I needed to find a room to rent.