Tag: story

i speak

Look not with the eyes but with the mind

To write a litany of daily woes is not my priority, nor do I feel proud for sure, but if I just bear it with a grin today, I may fall apart. So, I want to leave it in words. After all, I am my own counsel, defending myself against injustice and abuse forced on me just because of who I am.

It’s been over two months since I started my new job as a case manager’s assistant at a personal injury law firm. I like my job, and I am a good worker, always willing to perform my tasks given diligently, even if I may make mistakes because I am also learning a new trade on my own. But my case manager denies this, magnifying every mistake I make as if it were fatal because she is relatively new, feeling overwhelmed by a heavy workload. She vents her frustration upon me, assailing my introverted personality, diagnosing it as a mental case, and belittling my entire personal ability and outward appearance. Besides, she mistreats me with contempt and criticism under the pretext of toughning my sensitivity. Everyday is like being in a toture room of the Inquisition.

Today she told me I did not comprehend English very well, upsetting her. That was a massive mental blow akin to verbal abuse enough to dispirit my will to write and read. True that English is my second language, and due to my insufficient social interaction with others, my verbal expression may seem inhibited. Still, I have a BA degree in English from Rutgers University with a decent GPA, and my letters to an editor of a British history magazine have been published more than five times. In addition, my book review of a certain well-known novelist got a raving compliment from the author himself. Yes, I am proud of these facts because I love the English language and always strive to be a better writer. But to hear such a callous rant from her plunged my spirit so low that I could not help but sink into the abyss of finiteness, then into a pit of the bottomless pit. People told me to be tough, but that’s disrespectful of individualities because otherwise, there would be no poets, essayists, or novelists whose eyes and sensibilities, and senses are exceptional from the melee.

I am so tired of all these abuses from the people who pride themselves in being the survivors of the fittest. My mind is a river of tears, and my heart is broken to pieces repeatedly. I wish I had someone who would always be on my side and support me. Maybe, it’s my fate to suffer, but I want to be happy. Is it too much to wish for?

Prompt 21

What is your career plan?

I always think that a career is for those who have social ambitions to climb up the class ladder or to gain fame, such as professionals or celebrities. As a commoner who works for bare necessities and the accompanying mental equilibrium brought by financial security, I would say the word “job” is unassumingly fitting to me. Hence I will change it to “job plan.”

My immediate job plan is to pass my ninety days probation period, which will end in early or mid-June of this year at the current job. I am a new Case Manager Assistant at a personal injury law firm where the Spencerian of the survival of the fittest is at its most tacitly manifested and vociferously encouraged. The high turnover rate is famously average, so matter-of-factly typical that it’s like a revolving door of a department store. But the generous pay rate and timely payment compensate for the reign of terror. I have seen many the hungry ocean gains advantage of the kingdom of the shore, and the firm soil wins over the watery main with loss and gain, gain and loss. So if I get paid at a decent pay rate every other Friday, I am content. So, I pray that I will pass the probation period, and that’s all,

I work hard and well, but I don’t want to become a case manager that is a 24-hour job under stress. I want to be an excellent CMA, competent, efficient, and prompt, and that is my prayer.

Wandering Cat

The hate fills you with spite
the heart is a barren desert
the mind is a desiccated tree
basked in the heat of hate;
There’s a cat who walks
by himself by the proud tree
and his eyes full of memories
that once beheld the leaves
dancing in the breeze of peace;
He catches in silence at the sight
by the awe of the forlorn fate
that wails into a void of ether
and continues on his wander
into the end of distant rainbows
bridging over the skies yonder.