Author: Mauricio Alas

  • Poetry Corner: Somnio, Spero, Victum!

    Now, you are sleeping, so late at night
     
    Eyes closed and lost in dreams
    I think of you. In the frost of winter,
    where nothing clear it seems
     
    Yet, your lover thinks
    That he does deem
    Indeed, he is so lucky
    To cherish you, my love, so he can you esteem
     
    Hold close in thy arms
    feel through the seems
    The grains of passion
    Too small to be seen, yet strong enough to hold
     
    A love, sensible and tight.
    We both know what it means
    Yes, we are afraid. Yes, we are…
    But we know is THERE.
     
    We are afraid.
    So afraid. To be hurt, yet again.
    But it cannot be denied
    What we feel should not be strained
     
    Or be misguided. Why? Because it is wrong and safe?
    Since it is easy, for what? To throw it all away?
    Why? You know why? We done it both before
    We are better than that now.
     
    We are no longer stone.
    We’ve grown, no longer alone
    Whether through mistake or fault,
    As we painters
     
    Of life’s canvas
    We color and shade
    To be in love and behave, not to linger or just play
    But for once, yes finally in life, to truly, in love to stay
     
  • Dialogues I: ” Peter”

    “On your way to a job interview,” said my old boss who was also a good friend, “you must always be prepared.”

    “No kidding.”

    “Be serious! You only have one chance to make a good impression.” He continued.

    “The secret to success, is to read them before they read you. Companies are faceless corporations. Pure evil. Ready to toss you down the deadwood-chute the moment you cease to be useful or in your case, if they don’t like you.”

    “Uh?”

    “However in the end companies are run by people. Now, people are not evil but quite likable or at least, that is what you want them to believe. Everyone loves to feel they are better than everyone else: Special. Even if they don’t admit it.”

    “I fear a sense of horrible irony in what I am about to hear…”

    “That’s what you got to exploit. That’s your ticket in!”

    “One word: Cynical.”

    “You want to get the job or are you going to insult me?”

    “May I do both?”

    Peter then went on about a famous story from his past or something more akin to an anthology of them. Everyone always liked those. They were always funny and fantastical: Like, Spiderman-swings-in-and-sa

    ves-a-convent-full-of-nuns-from-berserk–Gigolos fantastical. Such stories, you quickly learn to hear with a healthy side of a grain of salt. Otherwise, your brain simply explodes.

    “When on my first job interview at an insurance company, a would-be manager asked me a series of questions meant to throw you off and think on your feet. Like: ‘Where would you see yourself in 5 years?’ I love time traveling questions. Or ‘Tell us a time where you were in conflict with someone and you just magically fixed it.’ Or ‘what would you do if your found your boss stealing office supplies?’ (I would have said blackmail) and other sanity-vague diatribe.

    The point: No one wants to hire a moron. No one will ever say that to your face, of course. But now that I am a manager, trust me, they do. Sometimes walking an interviewee out without bursting in sub-political correct cachinnation is the hardest part of the interview!”

    “Cachinnation? Really? You are a bastard Peter…”

    “What is your strongest weakness?!” My manager said. “That one does come to mind a lot.”

    “Isn’t that a Wynonna Judd song?”

    “Silly no fuck!”

    “What did you say?”

    “…He was my strongest weakness… I surrendered heart and soul…”

    “Shut up. You did not said that.”

    “I said something about working too hard for my own good, but I was on the process of balancing it out with some sports.”

    “Sounds normal, and he believed you?”

    “Here is where you must shine: The Look. Everyone knows these answers are anal and vacuous. The internet has made sure to spread that fact far and wide. But the look and tone mixed in with a hint of a honest smile throws them off. That is what sells it. Don’t over do it, you don’t want to come off car-salesman smooth. Everyone hates that! And you will come off as if you are lying. That is something you want to avoid at all costs!

    “Isn’t that exactly what I would be doing though?”

    “See? Right there. You just failed to get the job.”

    Wondered if asking Peter was a very, very, bad idea.

    “Oh, wait, I will tell you my favourite question! At another interview few years later, a manager asked in a very serious and imposing tone:
    ‘Hypothetically, after you got the job, if my manager, came in here. Pointed out the window there and told you the sky was purple and I said to him it was blue… and he asked for your opinion. What would your answer be?’

    “Finally, an interestingly attitude question…” I thought.

    “I said you could not see the sky because it was in fact overcast.”

    “Wha? You did not say that either! You are really BS’ing now.”

    “He said it was hypothetical. Didn’t see a hipothericalistic thought sale at Costco. Its free. Anyone can use it.”

    “What did he say?”

    “He just sat there. Index finger raised upward, mouth opened, as if he was going to say something. After about 10 seconds he asked me if I could come up with anything else. I added we should definitely call his wife, as I would be worried for his boss going home and careening right through a red light.

    “Hahahaha…And?”

    “I hired you two years later, didn’t I?.” Peter said, smiling.

    “Spiderman saves the day, again.” I thought.
    In the end, I got the job. Not sure how but definitely not thanks to Peter’s advise.

  • Dialogues I: " Peter"

    “On your way to a job interview,” said my old boss who was also a good friend, “you must always be prepared.”

    “No kidding.”

    “Be serious! You only have one chance to make a good impression.” He continued.

    “The secret to success, is to read them before they read you. Companies are faceless corporations. Pure evil. Ready to toss you down the deadwood-chute the moment you cease to be useful or in your case, if they don’t like you.”

    “Uh?”

    “However in the end companies are run by people. Now, people are not evil but quite likable or at least, that is what you want them to believe. Everyone loves to feel they are better than everyone else: Special. Even if they don’t admit it.”

    “I fear a sense of horrible irony in what I am about to hear…”

    “That’s what you got to exploit. That’s your ticket in!”

    “One word: Cynical.”

    “You want to get the job or are you going to insult me?”

    “May I do both?”

    Peter then went on about a famous story from his past or something more akin to an anthology of them. Everyone always liked those. They were always funny and fantastical: Like, Spiderman-swings-in-and-sa

    ves-a-convent-full-of-nuns-from-berserk–Gigolos fantastical. Such stories, you quickly learn to hear with a healthy side of a grain of salt. Otherwise, your brain simply explodes.

    “When on my first job interview at an insurance company, a would-be manager asked me a series of questions meant to throw you off and think on your feet. Like: ‘Where would you see yourself in 5 years?’ I love time traveling questions. Or ‘Tell us a time where you were in conflict with someone and you just magically fixed it.’ Or ‘what would you do if your found your boss stealing office supplies?’ (I would have said blackmail) and other sanity-vague diatribe.

    The point: No one wants to hire a moron. No one will ever say that to your face, of course. But now that I am a manager, trust me, they do. Sometimes walking an interviewee out without bursting in sub-political correct cachinnation is the hardest part of the interview!”

    “Cachinnation? Really? You are a bastard Peter…”

    “What is your strongest weakness?!” My manager said. “That one does come to mind a lot.”

    “Isn’t that a Wynonna Judd song?”

    “Silly no fuck!”

    “What did you say?”

    “…He was my strongest weakness… I surrendered heart and soul…”

    “Shut up. You did not said that.”

    “I said something about working too hard for my own good, but I was on the process of balancing it out with some sports.”

    “Sounds normal, and he believed you?”

    “Here is where you must shine: The Look. Everyone knows these answers are anal and vacuous. The internet has made sure to spread that fact far and wide. But the look and tone mixed in with a hint of a honest smile throws them off. That is what sells it. Don’t over do it, you don’t want to come off car-salesman smooth. Everyone hates that! And you will come off as if you are lying. That is something you want to avoid at all costs!

    “Isn’t that exactly what I would be doing though?”

    “See? Right there. You just failed to get the job.”

    Wondered if asking Peter was a very, very, bad idea.

    “Oh, wait, I will tell you my favourite question! At another interview few years later, a manager asked in a very serious and imposing tone:
    ‘Hypothetically, after you got the job, if my manager, came in here. Pointed out the window there and told you the sky was purple and I said to him it was blue… and he asked for your opinion. What would your answer be?’

    “Finally, an interestingly attitude question…” I thought.

    “I said you could not see the sky because it was in fact overcast.”

    “Wha? You did not say that either! You are really BS’ing now.”

    “He said it was hypothetical. Didn’t see a hipothericalistic thought sale at Costco. Its free. Anyone can use it.”

    “What did he say?”

    “He just sat there. Index finger raised upward, mouth opened, as if he was going to say something. After about 10 seconds he asked me if I could come up with anything else. I added we should definitely call his wife, as I would be worried for his boss going home and careening right through a red light.

    “Hahahaha…And?”

    “I hired you two years later, didn’t I?.” Peter said, smiling.

    “Spiderman saves the day, again.” I thought.
    In the end, I got the job. Not sure how but definitely not thanks to Peter’s advise.

  • Poetry Corner: Tempus Beatum Est

    Night time.
    With the faint and ever lingering humming of cars in the distance
    And incandescents hanging outside my windows which never seem to rest.
    White noise for the desperate.

    How long has it been since my dreams took hold?
    Leading to lush lands? Islands teaming of vibrant thought and endearing peace?
    How lucky mellow-minds are.
    Free to stroll through fields of wild ponderings and soft-oranged mornings

    To welcome sleep’s soft hand, nurturing and pleasant, like a mother’s tender touch. Knowing your rest and time are blessed.
    Rather than embrace it as cold escapism. A hamac of obscurity. An unplugging tool to hinder the surges
    Pardoning a fool’s head with levity thus allowing it to hang lighter

    What time is it now? Three more hours? Then, is there not a choice?
    I recall traveling endless kilometers within my living room. Carving a path through my carpet
    Pacing my worries. Passing and pacing. Endless.
    Your mind is the worse enemy.

    Days gone by remind me of quieter times
    When I did not loose myself in the rules of numbers & words, and lived.
    I am still like that inside. I know it! I think…
    I can see it, when I am not empty like a canteen or peddling fears to myself

    Something hardly ever seen in my mind now, are the galleries of memories. My museum of flashbacks.
    Halls full of wonders, some innocent like those of a child. Or some among loved ones –Spring picnics, drunken nights and love making on a whim. Gently running your fingers across someone’s lips before that first soft, lusting kiss.
    All of them now amalgamated within the retreat of my mind, along my statues of granite reason. What will happen to them? I wonder.
    As the comfort of silence, unleashed and uncontrolled can make you mad

    So then, when they found me the next day. They couldn’t understand it. How could they? You can’t blame them either. I didn’t, and I was there
    Ah, silence! Peaceful. And right before I fade. Just before I fade.
    I despised the white noise, a pestilent symphony without coda. Never desisting. Now, I see nothing.

    Only blackness. Blinded.
    Dear God, …where am I?