It’s 24 days, 9 hours, 33 minutes and 10 seconds more to go before I could finally go back to the Philippines.

I am currently sitting in my desk right now. Waiting for something, I don’t know. They haven’t given me any new task that I could do, so I purposely slip into the realms of idleness.

Yes, it’s my third week here in Australia. The first week was awful, the second week was so-so, and it looks like the third one would be hell.

Last night, the CEO scolded me when she caught me drinking milk straight from the container. I specially don’t like the way she gets furious because she can really get mad and mostly ignore you for who knows how long. Another one is that I now feel ‘banned’ or restricted from consuming certain products in her home. I mean, she now watches over my back whenever I get something in the fridge or something. I can’t even go jog in their gym threadmill, go to the bathroom, listen to their audio CDs or eat breakfast without worrying if I might have done something to upset her. It really sucks, and the more I think about it, the more I want to go home. My freedom is exploited.

Regarding the project that I was supposed to “help,” well I don’t think they really want me to help at all. Before I jumped into this mess, I was promised to become a part of their team, help develop integral parts of the system, and learn a lot about the overall experience in the process. Well guess what? Two weeks have passed and the only thing that I have done was to test devices, test devices, test devices and yeah… test more devices. Turns out they don’t trust me to do my actual job.

I know, it hurts. But it hurts more when you know you have no one else to talk to, no one to share your thoughts with, because no one gives a damn. Sure they feed me, gives me pocket money, washes my clothes, fetches me to work, takes me to difference places for sightseeing and much more. I thank them for that. But when you realized you’re alone in a foreign land, with no friends and no support, that’s when things get ugly. You realize that you’re staying there only because you have to work, and therefore even petty things such eating yogurt and drinking milk straight from the container could be detrimental to your career, because everything you consume there is not yours.

In other words, they feed me because they expect something greater from me in return, and thus I must behave accordingly. And I’m sickeningly tired, because it’s not worth doing it.

I wish I could easily back out from all this mess, but my return flight is due on March 20. Four painfully scary weeks more to go. I terribly miss my home, friends, family, etc. I just want to go back home.

But alas, I have to be painfully patient.