"Maangas" is Filipino for "overly aggressive;" the exact attitude I plan to have in my nearing professional life. There's a reason girls call me daddy in college. And if you think that I think I'm smarter than you, you're right. I do.
I once thought of turning this blog into a personal diary and filling it with entries of my valiant quest to earn my first million pesos. But then I thought no. It's too shallow. It's like making a big deal of your 2-year quest to buy a Hyundai while paying rent.
I also considered using this space for movie, music, and food critiques. But critics--who takes them seriously? Sure, it could land a couple thousand in my pocket every month but I'm a slop with adjectives and I don't think it's worth sleeping with a thesaurus under my pillow for.
This summer, I applied for a job at a call center. A job that could get me around P200,000 a year. But before I applied, word was already around about that line of work. It's filled with gay people, lesbian people, people who are both gay and lesbian, people who are both male and female, and in extreme cases, hermaphrodites. Though I'm cool hanging out with them occasionally, these people aren't my crowd (Charisma exempted). I'm a bit homophobic. (Glad to get that out of the way.)
So, what exactly have you read in the last three paragraphs? It's my desire to earn some green and to finally be independent. A desire which I believe, is inherent in every man (and woman; welcome to the 21st century.) From childhood, I've always looked forward to the day when I would be left to fly alone and make something of myself. But it's just a couple of years away now, and up close, it's a whole different story.
My worst nightmare as a person is becoming what we Filipinos call a "tambay." It's slang for a sluggard who does nothing but chase skirts all day among other nefarious activities. You commonly see them walking around half-naked in the slums of Manila. (A city which I think deserved its new title as the "Gates of Hell." Its city hall is shaped like a casket though, which the great Dan Brown could have used instead of exposing the world to our pollution.)
("Sup?")
My worst nightmare as a professional would be being stuck in the newsroom. Aside from being a waste of my time and wit, in there, people are always under high pressure and are criminally underpaid. Imagine it. Everybody's taking phone calls, flipping through pages, and walking back and forth to the print room. It's all a bustle as your work gets chopped and diced by the proofreaders, editors, and lawyers upstairs who have their eyes out for libelous statements. Hey, look at the bright side. If you're a really good boy, you could make senior partner in 40 years!
("Yes, hello. This is Dave from the Manila Times calling... *Puts phone down.*")
Old people whose view of life is it's a dark place where you have to gut yourself for money have a term for my kind of ambition: "Champagne wishes, and caviar dreams."
I don't want to be 30 and still be driving a Kia. By 25, I'm thinking of already putting down mortgages. By 40, I want to be driving a Tesla around town in Givenchy. By then, I'd be bedding 22 year old models just to see if I've grown immune to Cialis. The only thing I'll be worried about is my liver--since I would have had much Glenfiddich by then.
A wise man once said "If people don't laugh at your dreams, you're not aiming high enough." So are you laughing yet? No? Then Google Cialis.
Professionally, my dream would be travelling around the world and soaking myself in its cultures. I want to write about Coachella, SXSW, The Bamboozle, The Warped Tour and Lollapalooza. The Eurockeenes, Hellfest, and especially about the Sonic Protest. My eyes ache Festival de Cannes, Glasgow, Actionfest, and TIFF. I want to play Egypt's u'd, Japan's koto, heck, even the didgeridoo!
My mom made it to Narita, Calgary, and Los Angeles. Now that she's in a call center, it's her turn to envy me.
Now, from my extensive use of proper nouns that made it sound like I'm talking gibberish, you can derive an ego complex in my person. Like, "Gosh. How obvious do I have to be?" This gave me an idea to take up law, though it's a lesser choice since I'll be studying for at least another 5 years. (It takes 3 years to earn Juris Doctor in a U.S. school, 1 year of study for the LSATs, and another year of study for the bar.) Having a lawyer in the family is always a hallmark of prestige because your brain (almost literally) has to bleed for it.
Another dream of mine is becoming a film writer and director. I mentioned Glasgow, so you might have seen this coming. If I pursue this, I want to start in television. Every time I lay eyes on a Filipino matinee and even on "Primetime" shows, something burns inside. Shows today are either remakes of something done before or silly ideas forced together to form a plot. Take "Be Careful With My Heart" for example. Sure, it's sweet and riddled with one-liners. But a young, handsome aviation tycoon falling in love with a provincial maid? As far-fetched as that premise is, it has been done so many times that if you watch every piece of film with the same story line, you'd be watching for eternity. And have you seen "Indio?" If you haven't, then good. It's ridiculously scripted, unimaginative, and is downright awkward. I mean it's a history lesson with fairies! It's as if a twelve year old read his Sibika book and wrote the whole plot. If I ever come to film, I'm gonna recreate television while preparing myself for making movies.
So, that's it. A few pages of my future's blueprints. Before I reach my 21st birthday, these could all have changed. It's only human to acquire new aspirations as you move on in life. But right now, I am in love with culture. And I am hoping it loves me back.
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