Sinkhole
I was roaming around the office for a few minutes. I asked around. I looked around. I sifted around. I was looking for a little roll of toilet paper.
I realize our office is a microcosm of society, of life. It starts with lofty ideals but gets shot right smack into the sinkhole. I see this by looking at the things that get lost in our office.
When we were in our old creaky office in the uptown area, things were good. Everybody was happy despite the small pay and all were working for what many call as the greater good. Back then, the most valuable thing in life must have been the ballpen. Leave your money, your beeper (no cellphones yet), your soul and it stays intact. Leave your ballpen and in 30 seconds it’s gone. It’s irritating at times but you get to smile at how funny this little ballpen could mean in a newsroom.
Fast forward to the new millennium. Suddenly, big things had started disappearing. My favorite mug sudenly teleports from my desk into the IT room overnight. Suddenly my earphones sleepwalked and woke up in the sports section. Now this annoyed me. These things are really valuable. Like society, like people, we started as idealistic in our existence but we ended up chasing and loving the material things. Almost always, we end up being materialistic.
Then comes Sept. 30, 2006. I was looking for a roll of tolet paper. The assistant said they are not taking out toilet papers from the stocks easily anymore because it gets lost. People are also hiding in their drawers the toilet papers they get for fear somebody (like me) would come and get it. Maybe somebody takes the toliet paper home? Or maybe someone goes to the sink one too often (I could be guilty of that). But toliet papers are toilet papers. It’s supposed to be used. It’s a man’s best friend next to dog and women.
Despite our sprawling building complex, a recent accross-the-board salary increase, I realize we have gotten ourselves even deeper into the sink. There is no more respect, even for one’s most private moments..people hide toilet papers already. NO more sharing. No more caring. It’s me and my toilet paper. Mind your own problem.
So just like the days of cavemen and jungle wars, I sneaked into one cubicle, peeped into a box of documents and saw a roll of toilet paper. People in dire need of something..money, self-esteem, release sometimes stoop down to the level of criminals just to get what I want. I was not born a criminal. I am not a bad man, but my society, my office made me one.
By hiding toilet papers.
blank…
I’m in one of those days when people who play with words for a living like me just become plain scrappy, edgy, empty. As with the other days, I’ve tried all the rituals I’ve known which worked before—taking a cat nap, closing my eyes and flying into a void black space, drinking a cup of warm tea, reading other people’s work, listening to music. Still, nothing.
Must be the eyes. SInce I started editing news stories on Valentines Day 2005, my word pad has grown from ‘normal’ to ‘150%.’ My font has warped from Times New Roman 12 pts, to Arial 14 pts to the present Tahoma 18 pts.
I’m hearing the banter of our photographers from one far corner of the newsroom. I hear the merciless cracking of our police reporter’s keyboards. I hear the TV’s late afternoon singing contest, a laughter from the lifestyle section. I stop to look at my mind and try to squeeze some juices out of it. Nothing.
Just one of those days when you I wish I should have ticked that ‘other’ course I would have wanted to take when I filled up my UPCAT form. One of those days when I think what would life be if I’m just a simple clerk, a policeman, a call center agent, a medical representative.
I have to stand up now. Myabe I’ll find that big idea somewhere down the hall.
