sunday swingin'

just how much longer can i hold on to being idealistic? and how much "bragging rights" have i taken out of my four years stay at the country's premiere state university? how long can i resist being lured [or duped] into getting aboard the call center wagon?

why i think i want it:
1. it pays big time.
2. i think i would fit in.
3. did i mention it pays big time?

why i know i don't want it:
1. because i did not slave away for a communications diploma to be insulted by irate callers.
2. because the country did not pay for my tuition just so i can amass great wealth for myself.
3. because i hate graveyard shifts.
4. because i don't want to do what everyone else is doing.
5. because i'm too scared of people. hah?
6. because i hate americans. hehe, biro lang.
7. because i'm too mayabang for my own good.
8. because i said i'd never be caught dead working for one. *gulp*
9. because i said i'd never work for money.

but but but it pays big time!

i have lost it. it's not that i have anything against working in that kind of atmosphere. my problem is that i want to work in a call center because i want instant gratification translated to oodles and oodles of moolah. it's a sad day when i decide to throw away everything i've believed in just for money. i guess this is rooted from calculating without God. He promised he'd provide but selfish me needs to get things her way.

one can never have enough. and if i suddenly turn to call centers to satisfy my want for moolah, then i would know that i have been eaten by the system governing the world. and it's something i've tried to avoid as long as i can remember.  the whole point of my wanting to be different will be completely meaningless if this day comes. my whole existence will be utterly pointless because that meant i threw God's sovereignty in my life out the window.

and that's a lot scarier than being poor.

::::::: (",) ::::::::
i had this massive crush on a guy when i was in high school. like really big. and for some reason, i dreamed about him in full length, meaning, there was a clear plot in my reverie and a smooth flow of transitions and scenes. i must have napped for about five hours.

the strange thing is that i haven't thought about the guy for the longest time. hullo, high school was a lifetime ago. but every time i dream of him, it happens on the same setting: the high school gym. and then he always comes up to me and i always, always found insults to throw at him. the dream me always shuts up after the insult then the dream sequence ends.but this time, we actually had a meaningful conversation. and it was so real i woke up smiling.

maybe a part of me still has not gotten over my crush. i guess he's one of the good things that happened to me in high school. and he will never know. [haha cheesy cliche, yes.]
happy week one and all!