I am Wrong

29 January 2013

I am so glad I was proven wrong. Someone told me to choose my battles; she was right. It was only I who perceived the battle.

Somehow I felt it was my fault because he waited for me to finish what I was doing that he had forgotten to send it eventually. Yesterday morning I told Paul I went to Ms. Rizza’s on a Sunday to bring the files we missed sending last Friday. He told me not to do it again. I simply said, “Ok.” but I didn’t add that I did it because he was so upset last Friday and I felt I had to do something about it to cheer him up. He was working hard but he ended up frustrated by matters beyond his control.

Because of my mission to support him, I ended up in Diliman. By Diliman I meant UP Diliman. There was this event hosted by the local television network which I happened to witness by accident. I became Dora the explorer for the day except that I had no map with me. People in the Philippines are generally trustworthy and kind. Everyone I asked directions from to arrive at Ms. Rizza’s house gave me answers that were credible. It was my first time at that place (another first I experienced because of work) and I did not get lost. Even if I felt that I was invading Ms. Rizza’s private space, I pushed through but I knew I had to turn down their invitation to have lunch with them. She was too accommodating that she allowed me to bring her paperwork, to her house at that, on a Sunday. Free lunch would be exploitation of her kindness. That’s too much already. Filipinos can be so hospitable and polite at their own expense. I refuse to take advantage of it.

I ended up spending almost the entire day with Nessa and ate Aprille. I miss those girls. It was through them that I realized that my situation is not unique. My struggles are not something only I experience. What’s more, they made me realize that I was wrong. Together with Grace and Dave whom I talked to during separate occasions, they made me realize that it was I who had to change. I was making matters more difficult for myself. Nessa and ate Aprille told me maybe I was taking it in wrong. Dave and Grace both said I have to take my time. It was a matter of what to take. Either way that meant I am to receive something. Will I have the courage to give something back?

But not until I met up with Jello that I finally saw that I was wrong. I met up with him finally after eight years. I saw from him what I was doing, reaping the same results - perceiving non-existent difficulty. There really is something to learn from every person; one can never go away empty –handed.

I was crying out “Wolf!” again. But unlike that shepherd boy, mischief was not intended because it was I who was harmed. The sad part is there were casualties along the way. Because of my limited vision, I ascribed meanings to downright mundane actions and let my biases, selective perception, invalid arguments, unsound assumptions, illogical associations and non-cogent premises determine what was there.

Thank you that people are different; they make the perspective of the world complete. They fill me up with those that I have missed. I have nothing against those who empathized with me- Micai, Jem and Gab. To them I am grateful because I found affirmation for my reasoning. But those people whose opinions differ from mine on the subject of workplace tension reminded me again of the important lesson I forgot to apply. Matters might go out of hand, completely beyond the reach of manipulation, but there would always be something one can do to change a negative situation – you can change your mind about it. There’s no point in fussing about things you can’t control; work instead on something under your power – yourself.

I underestimated in the past the power of hugs. But because I have determined to make myself more honest, transparent and expressive, I am acknowledging the need for hugs. Sam is right; she is wiser than I am when it comes to social matters. I insisted on getting those I went to Adriatico before the day ended. By 11pm, I got free hugs from Grace and Migi. That made me warm even when the waning night was shivering into the early morning chill overhead. Where there is inner warmth, not even the coldness of the surroundings could pervade. How blessed I am, I am surrounded by people who correct me and support me. Can’t help adding that I feel that the people I am with now were placed in my life at this certain point, orchestrated to meet me as they currently are. Had we met earlier or later they wouldn’t be the same. What I should be thankful for permutates (increases incrementally with time).

Yesterday, the teleparasitology paper was also scrutinized. There’s nothing wrong in thoroughly proofreading it but I keep remembering how much effort June put into writing it that she almost did not sleep and was nauseous by the end of those days.

The team deliberation of that proposal proved furthermore that I was wrong. Sunday, I was already convinced through memory recall that I was concentrating on the wrong things. I neglected those times when it was I who was avoiding and keeping silent. But Monday made it too in my face. I’m preposterously baffled with how blind I have been. I am the problem. I perceive such tensions because I was creating them myself. There is no tension in the workplace the way I thought there was. Then Lemonade Mouth goes, here comes the breakthrough, here comes the day.

I will not miss the opportunity to write down that I was wrong so I can look back and know that I am capable of sabotaging my life then put the blame on others.

Strength of Mind

26 January 2013

My current employment involves psychological warfare. That stresses me out. Sometimes I feel as if I'm being under a scripted reality tv spoof.


I am used to being alone when I work even if I'm by myself, it's cheerful, I have my sounds on and I can sing out loud. I am free to murmur or even talk aloud to myself. If it be teamwork, I'm used to a cheerful atmosphere at work. But the tension in the air is as if we're in an operating room and worse there's nothing I have to wait for or work on to ease it off. There's just no indicator when it's off. It's just there, without me having any access at all to the controls. Have I imposed it again or does it really exist? Am I being oversensitive, calling out "Wolf!"?


Strained working relationships are strenous and tedious. Always have to think that my words are seminal for them. When to me they're ephemeral; a means to an end, not an end in itself. It's all very complicated. Where will my spontaneity go?


Haven't even had a quarter of a year to enjoy that freedom of expression which cultivates spontaneity and I'm forced to not prune it but uproot it? I won't let that be. I will surround myself with people who let me be who I am.


Gabriyhel just placed stickers on her guitar. She spelled my name out in it too :) Thanks Lord for sending people in my life who will let me be myself and would make room for the real me. I am grateful for the patience of these people for putting up with me: Micai, Dave, Jem and Donn Jefferson Atienza when I needed someone to hear me out and someone to talk to.


Thank you as well for placing these people before me with their honesty and hearts outstretched to me, reminding me that being vulnerable by honesty and, understanding and acceptance make people more human.


People are different and as they are out there to challenge your be-ing, they should not shake you out of yourself, pushing you into lowered self-esteem and depreciated self-worth.


As iron sharpens iron, so does a friend sharpens a friend. - that's from the Bible :))

Facebook and statuses

26 January 2013

To pass my time and somehow convince myself that I have a life other than work, which I still am not doing well, I decided to scan my facebook account. Why does it seem that the lives of other people are happier, livelier, more satisfying and well-lived than mine based on their fb accounts?


I accidentally came int a younger person's fb account. We hail from the same high school and he's still studying in the same university I went to. I was looking at his photos but I stopped after a while. He looks so good I'm starting to like him. That shouldn't be. I should not like people for their looks or their manners. And he's younger than I am. I would just categorize that admiration as the same as what I have for people I don't know like movie stars. But the truth that somehow he's within reach is pressing. He may even feign of not knowing me. His world is different now.


Is it possible to recapture relationships that were not sustained at all through the years or should changes that come with time override a party, preventing real communication? Why should they let life's changes get through them? They do. I can't get Bless out of my mind's eye for this.


I was also stalking through a high school batchmate's fb account and thought that her life has fluorished a lot since I last saw her. Nothing seemed to change in mine. Can't help but compare. But I shouldn't. My lot is different from theirs. I have to calm out my heart and deal with what's before me; being happy for other people's lives, not envying theirs or being sorry for my own situation only because their lives appeared better.


Still have to find other ways of earning money. I have been informed that there's not much financial security from my current work. Switching jobs is not an potion. Just have to find other ways to earn.


Seems I have office work set-up culture shock. I work better in the office when no one's there other than me. When I'm alone I become livelier and can work better. Other people's presence seems pressure enough for me.


How would I know if other people are really listening or if my message really gets through them?  I still can't decide if and when someone's talking if I am included in the conversation or not. I'm still not adept in those parts. Have I been so much alone I can't connect to people anymore?


Why would people listen to my thoughts when I was confused that this : is the colon, not the semi-colon? How would I be entrusted then of more work that would lead to a higher salary? But I guess because my co-workers are over-responsible, they rather do it on their own. They're my superiors and seniors. More likely their decisions would stand than my suggestions because they've got more experience in this and because they know better. 


Worked out the entirety of yesterday for an article for submission to journals. People answering the phone can be so rude. It is not definite confirmation but they said the schedule for accepting articles was way past Jan 15. I was working for nothing. I still did it anyway. Besides there were particulars in the journal requirements that I was panicky about. Paul was not able to allay my doubts about it.


Yesterday, both June and Paul were stressed out. I don't know how I would be of help to them. I have already reiterated that they could delegate some of their tasks to me. But of course they rather would not because that meant more work for them. It is different if you were the one materializing your ideas than in making other people understand how you want them to do it.


I am wondering why fearless gets more reads than this. I write them both.

1:59 am

6 Enero 2013

Maraming mga bagay ang kayang baguhin ng pera na parang magic. Yung kulot ang buhok, pwedeng maging tuwid. Yung unat, pwedeng kulutin. Yung maitim ang balat pwedeng pumuti at yung maputi pwedeng magpa-tan. Yung balbon, pwede magpatanggal ng buhok. Yung maiksi yung buhok, pwedeng magpalagay ng extensions. Yung paubos o wala nang buhok pwedeng maging malago uli yung dating panot o kalbo. Yung walang dibdib, pwede magpadagdag. Yung malaki yung bilbil, pwede ipa-alis. Yung sakahan, pwedeng maging pamilihan. Kung dati lakad, pwede na may sariling four wheels. Yung lalaki pwedeng maging babae.

                Numerous matters can be changed by money as if by magic. The curly haired gets straight hair and the straight haired can have her locks curled. The dark-skinned can get fairer and the pale skinned can get a tan. The hirsute can have all unwanted hair removed. Those with short hair can have extensions affixed. The bald and balding both can enjoy an abundance of crowning glory strands. The flat-chested can have their breasts enhanced. Those with pot bellies can have it sucked away. The farmlands can become mega markets. Those who travel by foot can explore in their own four wheels. A man can become a woman.

Matindi talaga ang kapangyarihan ng pera. Kaya nga maganda syang itumbas sa magic kasi kaya nyang tuparin yung mga bagay na nais mo. Damang-dama ko ang pangangailangan na makamit ang magic na ito. Kumbaga, matutunang mag-magic para naman yung mga gusto kong matupad, maging totoo na.

                The power of money has an extending scope. It is apt to be likened to magic because by it, your desires become real. I cannot deny the need to attain this magic. In other words, I have to learn how to use magic for my wants to come true.

Pero habang ako’y literal na malamig, sa pagkakasalat ko sa aking mga palad at talampakan, sabayan pa ng matinding pananakit ng likod sa may tapat ng balikat (ayon sa anatomy namin may muscle na ang magkabilang duluhan ay nakahugpong sa balikat at sa spine), pinatay ko ang mga ilaw. Nagdesisyon akong matulog na sa tabi ni Shiela. Para maibsan ang panlalamig, dumaiti ako kay Shiela. Tulog na tulog na sya. At habang nakabitin ako sa kanan nyang braso na parang girlfriend na nakapulupot sa nobyo nito o batang nakalambitin sa braso ng tatay nya para kulitin ito na ibili sya nang bagong laruan, bigla akong napadasal. Salamat po Diyos ko at ipinagkaloob nyong matamasa ko ang mga bagay na hindi ko naman kakayaning bayaran kailanman sapagkat hindi ang mga ito matutumbasan ng salapi. (Hindi ko alam kung bakit ako napadasal ng ganon. Hindi ko nga yun pinag-isipan.)

                But while I’m literally cold, as I’ve felt from my palms and the soles of my feet, simultaneous with an acute back ache by the shoulders (no wonder, a back muscle has its points of insertion on the shoulder and the spine), I turned the lights off. I decided to sleep beside Shiela. To warm myself, I moved close to Shiela. She’s sleeping soundly. While I was hanging by her right arm like a possessive girlfriend or a kid on the verge of tantrums convincing a dad to buy that new toy, I suddenly prayed. Lord, thank You for letting me experience something I would never be able to pay for because it cannot be measured in terms of monetary value. (I had no idea why I prayed that way. I didn’t even think of it beforehand.)

Sa puntong ito ay tumagilid ako at niyakap ang nahihimbing na si Shiela nang mahigpit. Mabuti na lang at kahit salat ako sa salapi, merong mga bagay na nasa akin na hindi ko kinakailangang bayaran o bilhin o pagsikapan para matamo. Meron akong mga pag-aari na akin dahil lang sa ipinagkatiwala ito sa akin ng Diyos. Binigyan ng buhay ang mga taong ito, ang mga pinakamamahal ko, ang aking pamilya. Alam kong ang buhay nila ay hindi ko kayang bilhin ng salapi o bayaran upang huwag lumisan sa mundo. Hinahayaan lang ng Diyos na andyan pa rin ang buhay nila, at makasarili ako para isipin na kahit papaano ginawa iyon ng Diyos para sa akin. Bukod pa do’n, binibigyan nila ako ng pagmamahal. Hindi naman ako nanghihingi sa kanila, hindi ko rin ito pinagtatrabahuhan o nasusuklian man lang ng buo. Pwede naman silang tumanggi sa pagbibigay sa akin ng pag-ibig. Maaari rin naman nila akong kalimutan na lang. Pero eto sila, buhay pa at kahit papaano nabubuhay para mahalin ako.

                At that instance, I shifted to my side and I hugged the slumbering Shiela tight. It’s a good thing that even if I am short of money, I have something that I do not have to pay for, buy or work for to attain. I own something simply because I was entrusted by the Lord with it. He gave life to these people, them that I love most, my family. I know I can never pay and that no sum of money would amount to have them alive or keep them so. It is by God’s will that they remain alive, and I am selfish to consider that He did it partly for my sake. Other than that, they gave me love. I did not ask or beg them, work or pay for it in full. They could refuse to love me. It is even possible for them to neglect or forget me. But here they are, still living and somehow still alive to love me.

Kung gaano katagal na nabuhay ako na malungkot at walang buong kasiyahan. Bantulot na lasapin ang mga pinipresenta ng mundo dahil lamang kulang ang aking pera. Dahil kailangan kong magtipid para mabuhay. Masyado na yata akong nasanay. Hinayaan kong ito ang mag-hari sa pagpapatakbo ng aking buhay. Napakabuti ng Diyos upang ipagkaloob sa akin ang mga bagay na hindi matutumbasan ng salapi o pagsisikap, mga bagay na hindi ko kailangang paghirapan para makamtan. Bakit ba hindi ko nakita yun? Yun naman ang mas mahalaga, ang pinakamahalaga. Masyado akong nangarag sa kakaisip kung paanong dapat pagsikapan ang pagiging buhay. Kung paanong nilimitahan ko ang aking isip na tanging sa magic lamang ng yaman ay mapapasa-akin ang aking mga inaasam. Bakit ko ba itinutok ang atensyon ko sa mga bagay na wala sa akin, nalunod tuloy ako sa kakasisid para sa kanila at nalimutan ko na kailangan ko nga pa lang umahon dahil yun naman ang mas mahalaga. Pakiramdam ko ako yung nasa kwento ni Leo Tolstoy ukol sa lalaking gahaman na lumakad nang malayong-malayo buong araw dahil sa naging kasunduan nila nung may-ari ng lupa na kung hanggang saan sya makarating bago matapos ang araw, yun ang magiging hangganan ng lupaing ibibigay sa kanya. (Di ako sigurado kung tama pa ang pagkaka-alala ko kung ibibigay o ipagbibili sa napagkasunduang halaga at hindi batay sa sukat.) Sa sobrang pagal na rin, bumigay ang katawan nya at bumagsak sya sa kanyang kamatayan. Dinatnan sya dun ng may-ari ng lupa at ginawan ng hukay na paglilibingan at ang naging tuldok ay ang pagsasabi ng may-lupa (ang nakabalat-kayong demonyo) na yun lang naman daw lupa na ginamit nyang libingan ang lupang kakailanganin nya. Oo, tungkol sya sa pagkagahaman at ang moralidad na hindi ang yaman ang dapat gawing pamantayan ng pagiging buhay. Matindi ang naging dating nya sa akin after three or four years ay naaalala ko pa rin sya. Paanong kinaligtaan ko lang basta ang alam ko na para matutunan lang yun uli?

                For long I have lived sad and unable to produce unhampered happiness for myself. I am hesitant to savor what the world offers simply because I lack money because I have to scrimp to keep alive. I must be getting too much used to that. I allowed it to take-over in managing my life. God is so good (slash that out, He’s the greatest) to bestow me gifts that would not be matched by money or hard work; presents I do not have to toil for to receive. I became too haggard with thinking how hard it is to keep alive. How intensely I have limited my mind that only money can magic into being my long-held wishes. Why did I concentrate on what I lack; it drowned me as I dive deep for them, forgetting that I should (and need to) resurface because that is more important. It made me feel like I was the character in Leo Tolstoy’s story, the greedy man who fatigued himself to death by walking farther and farther before the sun sets without breaks or rests because the land-owner agreed that however far in the fields he reached, there his land markers would be. The land-owner, by sun down, found him dead deep in the fields, far from the egdes. It ended with the land-owner (actually the devil in disguise) remarking “Yes, this is enough. This would be all the land he’ll ever need,” pertaining to the shallow grave they buried him in. Yes it is about greed and the morality that life is not measured by riches a person accumulates. It has a significant impact to me for after three or four years from when I read it, I could recall the story. (I must’ve liked it even; I remembered the author’s name.) How could I easily forget what I knew to learn it over again?

Nasadlak din ako sa pag-iisip na aalis na ako bukas.(Enero a-singko pa lang nang maisip ko ito. Sa katunayan, matutulog na dapat ako kaso di ako makatulog at alam kong hindi ako patutulugin ng mga pangyayari kung hindi ko sila itatala.) Mag-isa na naman ako at kapag dinatnan ako ng matinding panlalamig, wala akong taong pwedeng akapin at hingan ng init pampawi ginaw sa pagtulog. Nasa Maynila na naman ako ilang oras mula ngayon upang magtrabaho. Halos ito ang magiging una kong trabaho dahil sa una kong trabaho ay hindi naman gano’n ka-sidhi ang kinailangan kong pag-iisip at naranasang pagbabantay mula sa boss. Iba na ngayon.

I was also caught into thinking that I will be leaving by tomorrow. I will be by myself once more when the chills come; I will have no one to embrace and lend me warmth as I sleep. I will be in Manila hours from now for work. This could be considered as my first job because my first one was not as rigid in its thinking demands or was it enough preparation in dealing with superiors. This one is a very different matter.

 Natatakot ako. Sa opisina na ako magtatrabaho. Naalala kong bigla na kaya ko kinuha ang trabahong ito para may pang-agdong buhay. Hindi naman sa ayaw ko sa kanya pero hindi naman ito ang pinapangarap kong trabaho. Hindi ko nakikitang ginagawa ko ang trabahong ito hanggang sa ako’y mangulubot at umukod. Hindi ko inaasam na magkaroon ng ganoong trabaho kung itutugma ito sa bagay na ninanais ko talagang gawin. Hindi ko pa alam kung ano ang trabahong nais kong magkaroon, yung talagang pinapangarap ko, yung ninanais kong gawin hanggang sa hindi na ako kumukurap o mahal na mahal ko talaga na handa akong mabuhay at mamatay para sa gawaing iyon. Wala pa. Nababagabag ako.

I am fearful. I will be working in an office. It brings back to mind that I applied for this mainly to earn a living. It’s not that I dislike it. It’s just not the work I dream of having. I cannot see myself by now being in that field until I am wrinkled and hunched. It is not the work that I want if I compare it to my standard as something I love and enjoy doing. I still don’t know yet the occupation I really want to be in, that which I really yearn for, something I would want to do until I can blink no more, that which I passionately am for I will live and die for it. I haven’t found out yet. That troubles me.

Marami akong agam-agam sa mga maaaring mangyari. Paano ba ako makakasiguro na tama ang gagawin ko? na may kapupuntahan ang mga hakbangin ko ngayon sa kinabukasan? Paano kung mapapariwara ako dahil dito sa desisyon ko na sa ngayon ay hindi ko pa matantya kung tama o mali? Nawawala ako. Tapos, (panahon talaga ng Diyos kahit kalian, dapat handa ka lang makinig) narinig ko sa isip ko, I am the way, the truth and the life. Kesyo produkto ito ng memory recall sa mga naging daily devotions ko o revelation ito from the Holy Spirit, hindi ko na uungkatin pa. Kinontra ko pa nga yun kasi nabinbin na yung devotions ko for mga two weeks na rin siguro sa Esther. Nahihiwagaan kasi ako sa parteng naging masunurin si Esther sa mga payo nina Hegai at Mordecai kaya sya naging matagumpay. Yun na naman yung tanong ko, “Paano ko ba masisiguro na tama yung sinusunod ko?” Tapos sumingit pa si father Abraham. Kasi hindi sya sumunod sa pamilya nya katulad ni Esther kay Mordecai. Lumayo pa nga sya sa kanila tapos di rin naman sya nakarating sa Canaan. Pero good in the Lord’s eyes pareho yung ginawa nila. Basta, ang linaw-linaw nung pagkasabi. Umulit pa uli, ganito naman ang pagkasabi, Hindi ka mawawala, iilawan ko ang landas mo. Hindi ka maliligaw, ako na mismo yung landas na inaapakan mo. Hindi ka malilinlang kasi eto na ako, ang katotohanan, kasama mo.

                I am filled with doubts for all that could happen. How would I be sure that what I would be doing is right? that the actions I take now would lead to something in the future? What if I ruin my life instead by decisions I could not yet know now as good or bad? I am lost. Then, (anytime is really God’s time only if we listen) I heard in my mind I am the way, the truth and the life. Whether it is a product of memory recall from my daily devotions or a revelation from the Holy Spirit, I could not surmise nor try to. I even contradicted it because my devotions was stuck with Esther for two weeks. I was mystified by Esther’s obedience to Hegai and Mordecai that led to her success. That was my next question, “How will I be sure that I am right in following this person?” Then came thoughts about Abraham. Unlike Esther to Mordecai, he didn’t follow his relatives’ principles. He left instead but he didn’t even get to stay in Canaan. But both were good in God’s eyes. Again, the enunciation was clear. I heard it again, versed this way, You won’t get lost, I will light your way. You won’t get on the wrong path, I am the way. You won’t be deceived because I am here; I am the truth and I am with you.

Gumaan yung mga isipin ko. Na-excite pa ako kasi pwede na akong maging bata uli. Katulad nung mga panahon na Junior Casa pa lang ako, pumapasok ako sa school araw-araw na walang agam-agam kesyo dapat tama yung sagot ko pag-tinanong ni teacher o kung magugustuhan at tatanggapin ba ako ng classmates ko o kung alam ko ba na may exam at kung handa ako para don. Wala akong pakialam, basta papasok ako ngayong araw na ito. Kung anuman ang dumating, sigurado kaya ko yun. Kahit anong ipagawa, okay lang ako – sayaw kung sayaw at sali sa lahat ng parlor games pag nagkataong may birthday party ang kaklase ko. Hatakin man ako ng kaklase kong atat habang nagswing pa ako at mapauwi ng di oras dahil sa malaking bukol sa noo, basta pag may klase uli, handa akong pumasok. Ganon. Hindi na ako nangangamba sa mismong bukas dahil hindi na ako makapag-intay. Ang tinatanaw ko kasi yung ako kapag malaki na ako, yung ako na nabubuhay bawat araw sa katuparan ng kanyang mga pangarap. Hindi ako ma-stress ng ngayon o ng kahapon kasi kitang-kita ko na yung ending ko. Yun na yun oh, kayang-kaya ko maging gano’n pag malaki na ako.

My thoughts took on a lighter weight. I was even excited because I felt I was permitted to become a child again. When I was still in Junior Casa, I went to school everyday without trepidation about how I would answer the teacher’s question or if I will be liked or accepted by my classmates or if I would fare well if an exam came up. I did not care; I simply resolved to be in school when there were classes. Whatever comes, I am sure I can handle it. Whatever demands to be done, I agree with it – dance when asked to and join in each parlor game if there was a surprise birthday party for my classmate. Even if my classmate pulled the swing from under me while I was still in it that I ended up at home earlier because of a huge bump on my forehead, as long as there still are classes, I was ready for it. Just like that. I am not worried of tomorrow per se because I can’t wait. I was already seeing the me I will become were I was older, where daily I lived the life I was confined to only dream of. I am not stressed by today or yesterday because I already see how I would end. That’s it there, I am very capable of being like that when I’m grown.

Bibiruin ko muna yung bata kong sarili, Kaya siguro di mo pa naaabot yung pangarap mo (kung  anuman yun, di ko pa alam ngayon), tingnan mo oh, di na ako tumangkad. Di ko ata naabot yung paglaki na na-imagine mo. Pero kontra biro, ang saya. Pakiramdam ko nagbalik yung pakiramdam nung bata pa ako na kahit anong mangyari, maaabot ko yung pangarap ko kaya mangarap lang ako. Kesyo ano pang hadlang ang dumating o maging sagabal, akin talaga yung tadhanang yun, nag-iintay para lang sa akin. Wala akong kaagaw o kahati at hindi rin ako dapat magmadali. Dapat ko lang talagang daanan yung mga balakid na nasa landas ko kahit pa magkasugat-sugat o manlimahid ako (Pwede naman kasi maligo para malinis uli.) kasi sa akin talaga mapupunta yung nasa dulo – yun talaga ako.

                I will tease the younger me first, Maybe you haven’t reached your dreams (which are still unknown to me) because look, you didn’t grow up as tall as you’ve imagined you would be. Seriously, it’s fantastic. I felt I was inwardly the child I was – that come what may, I will attain my dreams so I should dream on. Whatever hurdles come or interferences arrive, that destiny is mine – waiting only for me. No one could take it from or share it with me so there’s no hurry. I really should face the challenges on my path even if I would be injured or dirty (I can always take a bath after to keep myself clean.) because what’s in the end is really mine – the real me.

Kung paano mang naging matatakutin ako mula sa walang-makakatinag-sa-akin na batang ako, hindi ngayon ang panahon para imbestigahan. Hindi ako dapat mabuhay sa takot para lang mapalaki yung pugwang ng takot bago ko yun palitan ng pananampalataya. Pwede ko namang palakihin ang guwang na yun dahil sa taglay na paniniwala. Hindi ko na kailangang magtyagang matakot. Sabi nga nung Sachiko sa buwan (nitong holidays na-inspire ako sa kwentong ito sa pang-umagang animazing cartoons ng local television network), sa loob ang bawat bata ay natural na matatag ang kalooban/malakas ang loob/matapang/hindi mahiyain o matatakutin, masayahin at handa sa kung anumang dumating. Bale, kinasanayan ko lang pala ang pagiging matatakutin; hindi talaga ako yun. Kailangan ko lang magpakatotoo. Sigurado naman ako na may tatanggap at magmamahal sa akin kapag ginawa ko yun - ang pamilya ko. Isa pa, paulit-ulit na pinapaalala ng Dyos sa akin na andito Sya, buhay at makapangyayari. Oo, katulad nina Esther at Abraham, walang formula para makasiguro na tama ang pinaniniwalaan mo, ang sinusunod mo. Pati yun, nasa mga kamay pa rin Niya. Paano pa ba ako makaka-kontra eh alam ko na yung comfort na nadama ko galing sa Kanya, may pagka-answered prayer ba. Nung mga nakaraan kasi madalas kong ipinipilit yun. Sabi ko, Lord, kahit pa magpumiglas ako, sumubok makawala o magpilit lumayo Sa’yo, huwag mo akong papakawalan please. Oh di ba, kahit ilang araw at gabi na akong hindi man lang makaalalang manalangin, to the rescue pa rin Sya? 

How I became fearful from the unflinching child I was is not to be investigated now. I shouldn’t live in fear only for it to create roomy space which I plan to fill with faith later on. I could already come up with a lofty room for faith by filling it up with faith already. There is no reason for me to bear fearfulness. Sachiko in the moon said (during the past holidays I was inspired by this story for the morning animazing cartoons of the local television network) that within each child there is a natural boldness and firmness of heart, cheerfulness and preparedness for everything. So I only got used to being fearful; that really is not me. I only need to be true to my nature. I have the assurance that there would be people who would love me when I do – my family. Other than that, the Lord reminds me that He is here, alive and sovereign. Yes, like Esther and Abraham, there is no formula to secure the validity of your principles which you follow. Even that is in His hands. How could I oppose His presence and power when beyond reason I am settled that that was an answered prayer? As sheep, I am familiar with my shepherd’s voice. In the past I have insisted on this. I prayed, Lord, even if I resist, trying to get off your care or get away from You, don’t let me go please. I testify that He is faithful. For days I haven’t even remembered that I should pray but He still rescued me when I needed Him.

Mas may dahilan ako ngayon para umusad. Kailangan kong magtrabaho para kumita nang pera at nang ma-suportahan si Shiela. Sasabihin ko pa dapat ang kalagayan ni Shiela pero tanggap ko na na sya na rin yun. Ang maselan nyang kondisyon na nagdudulot ng pagkukumbulsyon at pagkahuli ng kanyang pag-iisip (Kilala nyo na siguro si Shiela kung madalas kayong nagbabasa sa blog na ito.)  ay talaga namang itinutulak ako para kumita ng malaki. Mahal na tustusin ang pagsisigurong maayos si Shiela. Nariyan na ang gamot, pa-doctor, mga test, diapers, maghapong pag-air con at ang restriksyon sa paglalakbay. Kailangan talaga naming ng de-aircon na sasakyan kung gusto naming sama-sama kami sa paglalakbay. Kahit simpleng pagpunta sa simbahan, madalang naming magawa. Una, aarkila pa ng traysikel. Tapos, kung papara lang naman ng dyip, itutulak pa ng nanay ko sa stroller na mas malaki pa si Shiela na lulan sya papuntang simbahan. Hassle. Ang pinaka-masaklap pag inabot sya ng sumpong sa mainit, matao o masikip na lugar. Nung minsan nga inabot sya sa Jollibee, hindi ko sya mai-pwesto ng maayos kasi nga hindi naman equipped ang mga establishments para sa ganung mga sitwasyon kaya tiis-tiis. Binabayo na nya yung likod ko at hirap na hirap akong iiwas yung pagumpog ng ulo nya sa balikat ko habang yakap ko sya. Wala na akong pakialam nun na pasa-pasa ako pagkatapos. Ang hindi ko matanggap ayun, hirap na hirap na sa kakakisay yung kapatid ko, di ko maayos yung pwesto nya, tumatama yung paa nya sa bakal na paa nung mesa  tapos pinagtitinginan pa kami ng mga tao. Pinagtitinginan lang. Ube yung binti nya pagkatapos at itinawid ako ng pride ko para hindi maiyak nang mga panahong iyon. Hindi namin kailangan ng simpatya.

I have more reasons to move forward. I have to work to earn for Shiela. I would’ve chattered about Shiela’s conditions but I choose not to, I have accepted her as she is. (If you have read constantly from my blog you would know what I meant by this.) Her conditions are pushing me into striving to earn much. Shiela’s state requires lots of money for prescribed medication, doctor fees, tests, diapers, an everyday of air con electric bills and traveling restrictions. (There’s no need to translate in English the rest of the paragraph. I don’t need sympathy.)

Binibigyan na ako ni Lord ng dahilan para yumaman. Pakiramdam ko sabi Nya, Oy, wala ka nang choice. Dapat maging mayaman ka. I-claim mo na yung blessing ko na yun para sa iyo. Andiyan si Shiela para huwag mong kalimutan na nag-iintay yun para sa’yo. Solong-solo mo yun, nilaan ko lang para sa iyo. Kaya naman bawal maging tamad ever. Alam kong lalasapin din ni Shiela na mas mabuhay nang katulad nang pangkaraniwang tao, nakakapamasyal kasama ang pamilya, nakakapaglakad, nakakapagsalita at nakikipaglaro ng takbuhan o kung anuman sa mga ka-edad nya. Bigla kong naalala. Oo, ito nga pala ang dahilan kung bakit gusto kong matutong mag-magic. Para ma-magic ko yung mga kailangan ni Shiela. Yung yaman, darating din sa akin yun pero di ako dapat mamroblema para dun. Kailangan ko lang magsikap, ang Dyos na ang bahala. Kasi nga, ang utos naman sa akin, itulak lang yung batong mas malaki sa akin. Di ang pagtulak ko ang gagalaw sa batong yun, papanoorin ko lang pag sapat na yung tulak ko kung paanong aalisin yun ng Dyos sa daraanan ko.

The Lord is giving me concrete reasons to work at being rich. I was sensing He was telling me, You have no choice. You have to get wealthy. Claim that blessing I have laid for you. I set Shiela there to remind you of it. That blessing is meant for you, only for you, waiting for you. So I have decreed against laziness. I don’t have the luxury to accommodate it even for a second. I could forsee that Shiela would be able to experience life as others experience it, going out with family, walking, talking and running or joining whatever game those of her age indulge in. Then it came to me that those were the same reasons why I wanted to learn how to use magic. I wanted to use it for Shiela’s needs. That wealth, it will come to me so I don’t have to worry about it. I only have to be diligent; God would be in charge of everything else. He commanded me to push on a rock much larger than I am. It is not my efforts that would move that rock. My purpose is to watch how after I have pushed with all my might, God would move it out of my way.

Self re-assurance

14 January 2013

I am weak. So weak. But I compensate through inspiration. I am surrounded by people who are strong.

My strong people are weak. My mother’s an inveterate worrier, my father’s an impulsive, impatient avoider. But I get my strength from them. My dad is an alpha male, very dominant. We clash often; I must’ve inherited his obstinacy and bossiness. My mother’s the enduring type, always patient and diligent, bearing her burden daily and responsibly. Mom called and asked me to lie to my grandmother-her mother-about the sum of money we were supposed to get for her - hospital fee reimbursement.

Of course I protested. I have a healthy relationship with my mom to venture lecturing her. Why, my mother is teaching her daughter to lie to her mother. Why wouldn’t I feel scandalized, I always thought it was parents’ responsibility to uphold virtue even if only before their children? My mother had to go that far. What troubled situation I am entangling myself in. And I feel totally alone. And sad. I miss them more than ever. I would want to observe again Shiela’s strength in her oblivion. To chat my mother out of her worries. To be fuming mad and biting my tongue in respect for my dad. He can be so infuriating; he’s worse than any of us females in the household when we’re PMSing. To bear on pressure without seeming so like Sam.

I am lonesome. And I have no one to talk to about how hard it is. I wouldn’t want to burden my friends with my affairs. If only our money glitch only involved thinking where we would get our daily expenditures, I will work my ass out to make it. But it’s different - we ingested more than we can chew and digest. I feel helpless. I can’t do anything about it. How would I be able to raise that much money in a short time if not by winning the lottery? Mom depends on me. I know she bore the brunt all too hard and long now. There’s no one she speaks to about it other than me. How can I tell her that I’ve had enough of it? That I shouldn’t be burdened by it as well? Or how it has robbed me of my youth and humanity? I had to listen. I can’t un-hear what I heard. And I have the ball now. That’s no fun because I’ve got no one to throw it to. No playmate is around to catch it.

I have to be strong even if that meant blindly holding on to  my conceived perception of the strength of these people who are at the same time weak as I have observed. There should be something I am to hold on to though it be non-existent. I can feed myself with those illusions.

In the workplace, I am at odds with my team mates. We work for the same project but somehow I sense they are pushing me out. I couldn’t just barge in, they’ve been working together for the project for long before I came. It’s expected they would get along well and better. They’re both nice but mayhap I am over-sensitive or I assume too much but I sense resistance, as if I am a burden to them. They make me think more than twice before I speak up I decide not to talk at all. Both drive me over-conscious of the usefulness of my input; that I might blurt out something that would mainly waste their time more than it would make me appear foolish. They know better at this and their rapport is visible and palpable, a curtain that keeps me out. They are able to think fast and visualize mainly through words. I can’t yet. I need more time. I can’t just hop in but I’m anxious waiting here at the sidelines. I feel the pressure of not being myself to fit in when I’m with them. It’s stifling because I’m trying to not be myself. I don’t know how I should orient myself around them. I thought it’s because they are males but I’ve proved that wrong, I got along fine with another male workmate. That’s not it. Their closeness and familiarity with each other. I could only account it to that. They already know what to do. And they already understand each other even without speaking complete sentences. Both are busy people and they’ve got lots to do to be troubled by my thoughtless questions.

After blathing about my concerns, I feel better. It’s fine if no one listens, I only have to speak out in anyway, to confirm that I exist because I hear my own voice.

There are plenty to be thankful for. With this dizzying finance dilemma, we acted more like a family, there for each other together or for worse, working hand in hand. I am provided for until now. I have a job that pays. I’ve got friends who love me. I am healthy and alive. I will be myself.

The Official First Day

8 January 2013

By today’s events I felt I had to catch myself before I talk. I feel like a question mark, always there with a question, asking for something but unable to formulate a question by itself. I simply meant I feel my questions do not make sense. I am burdening those who orient me into answering pointless irrelevant questions. But there is an urge to ask. So I stopped remarking on what they said even if I wanted to say yes or I read that already or that I know. I just listened and nodded and smiled and zipped my mouth even when I had something to say because I did not consider my thoughts worth hearing for them because they were useless, no gain would come from them. Is my thinking really that odd? Or do I not know how to refine my questioning? Am I asking the wrong questions? In my previous work I was so free to ask and comment and argue even with the company owners who were also the project consultants.

This time I hesitated, putting a leash on my tongue. I can’t let my tongue get away as freely as I see Paul do. I will regret it and berate myself ruthlessly. I remember how I told Janet on my first job interview that being a researcher meant being bold enough to ask at the expense of oneself. That even if I would look foolish for asking something, the question remained worth asking because it would cause the other person to think or see things differently than they do.

Czelene makes me do that. I had a narrow vision and insisted that if a family did not adhere to a male father, female mother and children formula, the children would grow up into not so OK adults. I carried on the tenets of conservative thought that the basis of society as we know it now should remain at least in that term (I am against the rule of the rich few at the expense of the suffering of the multitudes of masses and still doubtful of both capitalism and communism, the opposites of economical spectrum policy). Czelene pointed out why I should be always decreeing that society would fail if males and females refuse being so gender-wise. I insisted an adopted child of a gay couple probably would end disturbed and socially bereft. After remarking so, she dropped it off but I thought about it again. And I was convinced that I could be more permissive on that point. If the gay couple gave the child love, why would the child not grow OK? Cz was right that being from a typical family as she termed my rigid definition of it is not assurance that a child would not end up being a serial killer or a fascist or someone disturbed and destructive. At that time, reports regarding Dolphy’s death was still part of daily news airings. I forgot one of the roles played by Dolphy, that in Ang Nanay Kong Tatay with Niño Mulach. Though he was gay and he solely reared Niño, the young boy did not at all become confused of his sexual orientation. Dolphy and he were a family because there was love. It was not only accepted but also given back. I texted Czelene before she left about that. I wonder if she read it, that I accede to her argument.

Then, I am reminded more of Czelene because I am now working in the position she vacated. Not only by the house but also in the workplace I am reminded of her. Paul kept probing about her. I am selfish. I do not want to share with him my friendship with Cz. Maybe not now yet. In the future I might. Why do I have this tendency to make things complicated? How is it that I lied about our friendship?

I emphasized only that I know her because we are from the same block and we were classmates. I did it before I thought of my motive. I was never this selfish when it comes to friends. It’s as if I’m telling him that what Cz and I have is for us only. I won’t share it with anyone easily. I guess he has an inkling that Czelene and I are really more than what I say we are. She even mentioned me to her previous house guards. She must’ve mentioned me too by name to them. I always use Robert as my scapegoat, because he had the same employment position as well before. It was only logical to divert the issue to Robert. Our surnames both start with an M so there would be no question if we were more than acquaintances because of the ruling alphabetical order system in schools. I never thought I would act that way, very possessive of my memory of my friends. It was so special I can’t share it with just anyone.

No worries about my looking foolish though. Even without meaning to ask or be annoying or insisting regarding about trifle matters (I tried to console myself because Paul said it was okay if the Research Ethics Board approved of the proposal they gave them when the proposal the funder got included more than what was known to the REB regarding the inclusion of preschool children. Paul has more experience. He said not to be bothered by the inconsistency. Have I really become OC to not let go of this irregularity as lightly as Paul puts it? I will try not to be. I have lots to read. What can I do about it as well? It’s done with.) I did make myself foolish. First, I remember Ms. Jen dela Rosa our teacher then for Health Policy Administration when she said the devolvement of the health system in the country from centralized to Local Government Unit (LGU)-based happened during then President Estrada’s term. Paul debunked that easily. My memory must be wrong. So I did not venture to comment again. I had lots of relearning to do. I reviewed again the lifecycles, modes of infection and medication for each soil transmitted helminth, food-borne trematodes, W. bancrofti and B. malayi. – lymphatic filariasis agents and schistosomes. I kept silent though I know something about it because I know not much and I may remember incorrectly. I am re-learning concepts and reviewing statistical designs. Not only to Paul but even to our project research associate. I ignorantly blurted out that I can’t imagine how they would get the geometric mean egg count because he first mentioned it. Then I added, “How is it that you get the mean of their sizes, based on their geometry that is then count them still? What is the point for noting their geometry measures then counting them still?”

 Of course that was silly. Our research associate put out his professor qualities first, laughing a bit before explaining after he understood what I meant offering that by geometric mean, that meant a statistical derivative from the mean of egg counts (I will again ignorantly assume that geometric mean is a pattern relative in working to the arithmetic mean. I somehow recall we discussed arithmetic and geometric means during our high school MTAP sessions. Arithmetic mean being that involved with a formula based addition or subtraction gained from a set of numbers and geometric mean for multiplication and division. I also picture out that these means end like a Christmas tree of numbers, slowly reduced until one value remains at the summit. Or isn’t that the Fibonacci sequence. I’m confused.).  I am scalded twice in a day. I will get over with being embarrassed. Better it be that they see from the beginning that I get wrong than for them to assume that I will never do.

Maybe because I only slept for three hours, I was chill. I rarely was hyped or excited on the first day. Normally I am energetic and bumbling about, fussing pointlessly. I was not even shocked when Paul revealed that my starting salary would be at twelve thousand without tax deductions yet even when I assumed and already believed it would be at fifteen net. I know how over-acting I could get. I was there, reacting the same way as if I heard him just say that the sun rises in the east instead of that, cool and without a bother as if I knew of it already. I was already planning in my mind not to settle for less than fifteen thousand per month and I was already doing it. I was even thinking why I was not opening up to these people when we will be working for long when it was so easy for me to act heedlessly around May Idy, someone I met once in Luneta park. More to do Steffi! Do not only be open to people you know you would only meet once, warm up to people you are to build relationships with. In my line of work I should easily get along with people.

Death and the Me-dia

3 January 2013

It is a bit disconcerting that people are grieving over the death of my namesake. I am affected not only because we share the same name, Stephanie but because my youngest sister Shiela is only a year older than she is. Besides, hers was a nonsense death, as nonsensical as to me as when I won that raffle last year. It was not something we hoped for or expected or worked to be considered for. Completely unlike those who ended up with blasted hands by their own doing, not as if God simply decided that anyone with hands were eligible by chance to be among the selected few who would have their hands explode to celebrate the new year. It was a stray bullet, for all I know my neighbors could’ve sent some of their own to the first few minutes of the 2013 atmosphere. It was nobody’s fault to be material and solid to get hit by a wandering bullet. Though our similarities even in the faintest leaves me disturbed, I am still thankful that we are all alive. It was Stephanie Nicole Ella who died. Not me. Not my beloved Shiela.

Other than the senseless death caused by irresponsibility on that gun firer’s part, I can’t help overlook how powerful media is, for how they spread a child’s death and engrave it unto people’s consciousness sensationally. Yes, we get the point of making the people protest against such selfish, unthinking acts and how other people may die of it without putting up a fight for their lives but isn’t a priest’s death, a priest who was considered indispensable for the Filipino people’s history also worth even half the share of the spotlight? May both Father Reuter and Stephanie Ella rest in peace.

Their death inevitably reminds me of my grandfather, whom I never met, who died on January 1^st. The rains prevented us from visiting his earthly remains. We contented ourselves with lighting up a candle and saying prayers for him.

Wanting to finish writing a novel is like a disease. It won’t leave me be until I finish it. I have the story clear set and finished in mind but the dialogue part is tricky and I have a word count to watch. I don’t know if how I have written it would be understandable to all. I’ve been used to wanting to express myself clearly but it is different now. I now want my readers to relate and understand what I’ve been talking about. Because people do not only live by bread, but by words as well. It is by our words that we build and destroy; that we extend and extinguish a life. I aim my words to come effectively and lightly, a message of hope and love. And because I have a tendency to make everything complicated than it actually is, I would want to imbibe Mai, and her genius of making even the mundane, light and effective. Even if my writing is in mainstream Filipino, (there would be Taglish and gay jargon of course), it sounds flat and unappealing. If I akin myself to a chef, I am having trouble with plating.

Trying to go Commercial

26 December 2012

I have finished reading from the most popular local publisher of romance books in the Philippines. I have read from the insert by the copyright page that they are accepting manuscripts, to be sent online, containing about 23,000 to 24,000 words with at least 10 chapters. That was enough to get me thinking, why not try? I overhear in my mind Mark, my nephew, during our Christmas party when he was coaxed to dance Gangnam Style: Ito ay dala lang ng matinding pangangailangan.

Yes, I could write. The character limit wouldn’t be much to worry about, professionalism demands adherence to the requirements. I remember again my qualms regarding romance novels. As I read that last one, contemplating about how I would approach the romance novel I was to write, I was not paying much attention to the story; I was gleaning gems of truth.

Why would it have to be in romance novels particularly, that the protagonists are perfect creatures and that all their minute gestures be very much accentuated and filled with meaning on their own? Assigning too much meaning in gestures or words left unspoken is part of the poetry of novels. I will no longer argue regarding that. Is reading leisurely really focused into feeding people with fantasies and illusions? I cannot help compare it with my recent favorite OPM song, Gayuma. Reading romance novels as a form of escapism makes us more dissociated and discontented with reality simply because we cannot script all areas of our lives unlike those circumscribed lives written for us to fawn over. Reminiscent of the presentation in Gayuma’s video of Abra seeing the girl friend as a very gorgeous lady but was an illusion as that lady is really a gay person (or was she a transgender at that?), our gratification of fantasies tailored to conform to expectations also fed on by society, materialism and inevitably commercialism, makes us settle for the ugly duckling, perceiving it as the beautiful swan it would never become.

Would I want to write that way - to blind people to fantasies that might make them drugged for a while with all pleasurable emotions only to subconsciously imbed in their minds how stark the difference is between make-believe and reality? Should I imprint in the young minds that would happen to read of the book I write under that genre, adhering to their grasp on sensuality that the demands of receiving true love lie on being a perfect being which surely no person could attain? I am setting them up for frustration. Humans do not need to become overwhelmingly physically attractive to be eligible for giving and receiving love. I wouldn’t want to feed on that concept of having a billboard model physique as the only way at true and lasting love. But as I remember the number of views I received from my wattpad entries, it is very very tempting to do so because it sells.

My sister, my lab rat. Hehe! That is the basest way I could describe Sam’s function when it comes to my writing. As my audience from the general stream of mass popular culture, her tastes are more into aesthetics and her yes would most likely be the flavor of the generation. From her I know if my writing would click popular to the masses. I know from the way she responded to my entries for wattpad that they wouldn’t. The first protest I received was that she barely understood it. My raw writing of a dream really does not give room to the audience. I did not write to please. I simply wrote for the story itself; I am a mere medium by which it was given life. The next was that the endings are sad. She said she didn’t like tragedies.

For one I like to write tragedies especially when it refers to romantic love. Why? I have the belief that fiction should be like that. In fantasy stories, people were supposed to read not of reality but of something opposite. Deep down I hold on as truth that everything receives a happy ending. To pay tribute to that belief as universal and relevant, I took prerogative to not give my stories happy endings. Because I believe that all people intrinsically were set for happy endings, it follows that stories should end tragically.

If these novels were aimed at portraying perfection as is conceived in the human mind, wouldn’t they also curtail that boxed image of perfection for the readers? Why should the lover be a living Greek statue, gentleman and rich but passionate to fight for the love of a damsel of surpassing beauty but of low birth? Why couldn’t it show that even a drunkard pot-bellied and hotheaded father be a faithful lover to his wife? Why shouldn’t it be that males would put up with their ladies because they were virtuous not because they were beautiful or hot? The general impact and reputation of local romance novels were that they gratify sensory fantasies and these types of stories are in the general circulation and are accessible – with majority of shop-keepers occupying their time with this type of literature.

 

That alarmed me. Do the literate masses of Filipino people really prefer to read of romance novels because it contained stories of lives they do not live and could only dream of? Does this imply that Pinoys want to read mainly to be entertained - that if entertainment value was compromised for the sake of poetic license to express they would rather not have any of it? (The same question applies for our popular choice of films, television shows and music.) Are our lives that dreary to shun having to put up with material that would cause us to question, learn and act? Would we as a people rather fall over and over for the same fairy tale formula whether it be in print or visual or auditory media just so it complies with our requisites of being entertained? Is this the thinking of masses?

To earn popularity, those that clamor for the support of masses should please them. (By sending an entry to this local publisher, I should also keep the general viewer in mind. They would choose a story with the main criteria of the story being able to sell.) What are the standards for mass acceptance? I do not want to generalize that it has gotten this sensory, as if we are mere children awed by simple booms, smoky poofs and cinematically set explosions. I believe that though our people are not high into literacy, those who write for their fellows do not simply write to gratify their readers with sensuous content. Local writers, those who are gifted with opportunity to be read and be part of the consciousness of the public even if through leisure reading, wouldn’t exist to be peddlers of sensual fulfillment. I would want to regard them someday as those who write to uphold the integrity of being a person in one’s own right and of influencing anyone into being a representative of a nation that is not amoral but is well-informed to make their choices under their privilege of personal democracy.

I hope that as I immerse myself in this branch of public consciousness that I will not be lost in it for the sake of money; that I will not yield to what is popular but that I would be there on the summit, waving out the flag of expectation I have set for local novel writers who garner popular readership. I will try for this cause. I will try because I call for change. I will not admit that I am among peoples who are dumb, facile and are of no substance if they be judged by what they read. I refuse to hypothesize that for myself even if limited but consistent observation says so. I want my hurtful hypothesis of renunciation on the intellect and principles of our peoples to be proven wrong and that my vision of people-building and not of blind commercialization reinforcement to be realized.

Grateful Mindset

26 December 2012

There is no point in wresting with myself when it comes to writing. I will give in eventually.

I’ve been trying to sum up what Christmas is for me now. I again remember what Christmas is called in some other place – Thanksgiving - the appropriate name for me for the season. As I look back at the past year, I have lots to be grateful for.  

I am with people I would want to be with if the prediction of world destruction by December 21, 2012 were true, with the exception of my dad whom I miss. The one point about love that I have learned as an adult aside from having your thoughts fully tuned in to what the object of love is about was to also speak about that person every time and unconsciously find yourself being changed. Love is not a bug as the Jonas Brothers sang about. It is a virus which if they meant by bug as a computer bug would be more like a virus as well. I don’t know much about the difference between bugs and viruses when it comes to computers even if Dan Brown already told me so in Digital Fortress. We have to meet again sometime for confirmation but to me, love is a virus because it takes over your system and makes you different.

What I like to reiterate is that love changes you, from your thoughts, emotions, how you react to how you live. With my dad away for Christmas, I have proof, as I have observed myself, that I love him. Not just with the respectful love we reserve for parents or the adoring almost idolatrous love we give to them when we were younger and we thought our parents could do anything and that they were never wrong. I know I love my dad because I keep thinking of him. He never was the vocal type; he demonstrates his love. Because he is not with us, I keep on remembering him for himself, not for what I want him to be. Children do have an expectation for their parents. I usually lived in that dome of shade, believing that my dad was what I thought him to be and loving him for that idealized form. But I am older. I know clearly of his human attributes, what I both like, dislike, hate or am annoyed with about him. And he’s being away makes me think of all of those and wanting him to be here so I wouldn’t have to think of them as memories but to actually experience them as realities. I am longing to again neglect his presence simply because he is before me and the idea of his not being with us would only be a probability, not actuality. I would want that peace of not even getting to think that we would be apart as a family because in the now we are as one.

For that I am still grateful. I will try to live my life with a thank you, whatever comes, thank you still – I have a complete living, breathing and loving family. I would’ve wanted my Christmas 2012 to be magical, like how it was to me when I was a child. If only I could live it as I thought my ideal day should be. My concept of an ideal day would be to have it as a single day, not comparable to any other. I want to live each day as if I had no past or no future ahead of me. Even if only Christmas, living it as a separate day, as if it is the only day I would have to be alive. That sense is what there is when I am with Shiela. She makes me realize that I may not have any more morrows to have with her even if the idea of not having her alive while I still am pains me. She also instills in me the truth that now is precious to waste for thinking about the times we have missed on each other. Her condition of fragility and susceptibility, being fully under the mercy of others while being able to stand on as herself is a salve for the numbing discipline of life.

I have met amazing people through all the years I’ve lived. Through them I can see life beyond my horizons. I am still hopeful. For that I will be grateful. I will not stop myself from being grateful. I will put effort even when I am very much against being grateful at any moment, the more I would give thanks. May I own up to this vow which is really more than a labor of love or denunciation of self. The Sovereign Lord deserves it from me. I pray faithfulness for living daily as a sacrifice; He loved me first.

A Call to Gratefulness

24 December 2012

The way I see things is in that greedy mind set. My contortionist brain fosters at the same time as that those of poverty and miserly and prideful, a greedy mind set. How could I not speak openly before people about the truth just because I find it distasteful? Why am I always at trouble about my lot in life when I am not actually the most depraved person on earth? That would be a greedy mind set. Because I do not have the best of everything there is, I consider what I have as dole outs or oppression. But can’t I see in the first place that I have something and that something I have will always be something that has been given to me, something that I would never be able to pay for completely? Why couldn’t I simply and purely concentrate on thanksgiving since no amount of effort from me would ever be able to pay for whatever it is that I have right now?

My sister Sam is on the heavy side. I was sitting sideways our dining table bench, grating coconut meat for our fruit salad with my knees to my chest. She told me she wanted to be able to do what I was doing. I invited her to sit and grate coconut meat with me. Sam laughed her boisterous laugh at me. What she meant by what she said was that she dreamt of being able in the future to sit with her knees to her chest, under her chin. That simple pose that I do absent-mindedly was something other people actually dream of being able to do. Am I not blessed at that? 

How would I not be blessed when even as I deny myself all throughout my college days, people around me find ways of meeting my needs and even providing me with luxury – free meals, movie views, extravagant gifts, free tabs on expensive food.

This year alone, I have a lot to thank. Personally, one miracle of the year would be that I passed the medical technologist exam. My application for license would have to be next year, I have to earn yet for that. Then I started trying to apply for employment and got responsive employers.

The most unexpected of all was my having to live in Cz’s condo unit free of rental fees. Because I still live there by myself (I am still looking for house mates), I pay solely for the association fees, water and electricity bills. The place is fully furnished and I should be enjoying it but I am stressing out.

There are surely lots to thank personally but I will reserve them for my prayers. I am grateful for all that has happened this year – from storms to killings, famine and boxing belts and crown earned. I am going to learn to be thankful. Before, I was blessed to see that every creation I happen to chance on and perceive was a cause of joy, something to be grateful for but it wasn’t tested then; merely a fancy that enabled me to smile senselessly. Then I was showed the side of life I only knew from others; I experienced suffering and destitution I never would’ve opted to go through. I felt how crippling poverty is if you let it get to you. Not only will you lose hope and breed envy, you will refuse to act and desire change, thinking of the present as something that should be maintained because it is already desirable or because at least it is known to you – an ill founded homeostasis. Much worse it is to be resigned to the current state because of deeming it as an inescapable prison. But the matter is disputable.

If I could bear poverty not by my own grace, but by that that could only be given freely and received fully, I am sure I have helped other people somehow. As I said before, I believe that when you do something, you enable other people to achieve the same state just as I think the principles we now consider theories come to us easily because the idea had already been conceived in the minds of others before us. This notion convinces me further that even if the people of before haven’t thought of that before, somehow we will get to know it. Alongside that, the more people believe a thought, the more possible it is for other people to receive those thoughts.