Braving Ignorance

We oftentimes squirm out of a situation that exposes our weakness, like knowing something that everybody seems to get but we don't. I remember how a group of friends in school before talking about Ang Huling El Bimbo and how the song was sad, and all I could do was nod and be as quiet as I could, and pray for the bell to ring. Fast.
Of course, we don't want anyone to know to know we don't know, so we never ask questions that would seem easy for most or say something as obvious as 1+1 = 2. We avoid this like the world depends on it, even if it meant losing an opportunity for something more relevant and important.
We just have to be perfect, so we don't get banished from society. So, even, when a relevant, important, but less than intelligent question burns, we keep quiet. It's fine, surely, it will be answered some time later or I could ask somebody who wont judge, like a best friend. Or I could ask an utterly evil person, anything that comes out of whose mouth, even when answering intelligent questions, is evil, so, I wont feel too bad.

Once at work, after thinking long about whether I should be exposing my ignorance about contracts, I proceeded to do a consultation with a lawyer and an actuary. You see most people my age now should know about contracts and how they work. Unfortunately, all I know about them are that they should be signed and notarized after reviewing whether the contents are as agreed and as expected.

Ok, I am not going to mention what I asked because they are the kind of questions many would roll their eyes over. But, what I did not expect was that they would be snickering and saying insulting remarks in the guise of being amusing. I thought, wow, I did not think it would be this humiliating. So, my passive-aggressive self just could not shut it. I am sorry to be asking these stupid questions, because I truly do not know. I have to be sure since we are talking about contracts and, as simple as an article "a" misplaced could spell the difference between lawsuits and losing them. These things I am asking, though pretty obvious to you, are important for me to be clarified, and are no laughing matter, since we are talking about a legal document, as you may well know...

Seriously, I must have heard crickets for a good 5 seconds.
And then, an almost whisper, "of course", on the other end.

So, though I am not proud of it, I got the answer to my stupid questions. I also found that there's more to them than just being disgusting clarifications for the smart ones. When asking questions whose answers seem as obvious as the fact that we all need air to breathe, it requires a bit of courage and a very strong sense of security to ask them. Courage because you know you'll be judged, and you will be asking these questions in spite of the possibly destructive replies you get, which may annihilate what's left of your self-esteem.

So, yes, courage.

It's also a testament to how well you know and how secure you feel towards yourself. People, whose sense of self is already at a level so mature others can no longer say anything to alter their self- concept, just doesn't care. To them, it's no longer about whether the question's stupid or whether they are stating the obvious but more what the answers they need. What others think about the question is down their priority list.

I don't presume to have the courage. I shake at the thought of asking these questions. For the most part, I don't think I will be able to handle anyone laughing at my ignorance. I also don't think I know everything, and I am definitely not as smart as many kindergarten kids, but I haven't stopped learning. 

And if being stupid every now and then is how I learn, I think it is worth it.

Weekends

On a Friday, starting at 3pm, the world feels like it's starting to pack for a weekend breather. This, somehow, brings a different kind of excitement, like everything is permissible. Go ahead, you dont have to finish whatever for Monday always comes.

All of a sudden, you only have to turn in work that can be done within the remaining hours of the work week. No need to hurry to complete anything.

Weekend starts with a bit of beer and, at first, a bit of TV. Only, often, TV extends till 1am because I just need to know more about Dune.

Saturday, is always a problem. It's never always clear how it is to be spent, but for some reason, it starts late, even if I skip breakfast and have my first coffee at 10am. I rummage through the drawers thinking that this will be the day I declutter, get rid of those old chargers and give old phones away. I end up neatly packing them in a bag for later use.

Lunch is a blur and quick.

While afternoon is planned for an hour at the gym, which usually takes 3 considering the long decision process of either going or skipping, there's still time for karaoke. 

Then the fun begins. Sitting in front of the TV and binge watch till the eyes hurt if only to forget the noise of work, while doing the laundry.

Sunday, is a bit different, this is when I argue against opening the work laptop. I always end up taking a sneak peek of the next day's schedule, which is always a good thing considering that Monday's usually packed. It's important to be able to make a mental note of what is happening when.

After a little tug of war with the pups, it is time for dinner. From this time on, everything happens like a movie in fast forward. Just when I finish ironing my work clothes for a week, I am back to thinking deadlines.

Monday can't wait.

Coffee and Decluttering

The dry season started about three weeks ago. And with it, the kind of humidity that makes showering a decadent dessert.

For days now, it has been difficult to stay at home with my shirt on, and on Sundays, when things are quieter, I fall into this daze like I could hear my hometown or my grandparent’s place. Sometimes, it feels like the sea is just a kilometer away and Jean, my cousin, would be out in the beach collecting shells and seaweed. But of course, anything exciting within a kilometer from my place now is an empty lot where my dogs do their business. Or the village grocery store.

Today, I planned on cleaning up and putting away clutters, which, though I try to stay away from accumulating, always end up being on the ottoman or on the center table or the shelves. That, I planned to do before lunch. Now, it’s 4 o’clock.

I would like to say it's the humidity. And it will not be entirely true. A few months back, when the temperature would fall to a nice 24 degrees, I would be on the couch thinking, the place is not that bad. Not like the college dorm some two decades or more back. I like a clean place, and when I do start cleaning up, I can do it with a passion. But getting myself to do it requires a tremendous amount of energy to get me off my inertia.

Instead, I open my ipad and start something I planned to do a year ago - writing something again. And because, I could not think of anything to ramble on, I think about iced coffee and a glazed donut. 

And there’s the delivery. It’s hard to miss Grab driver’s bike halting to a stop. It would be a crime to make him wait too long. :P 

Why the wash basin at night

To what end?

That has been in my head these days like a stubborn boyband song. It started the one time I pushed for a few more thousand steps to get past my goal of 8k and see that "congratulations" on my watch. When I did, I thought, Ok now what? Nothing else makes sense. Now, I struggle to even bother to wear socks to work without having to think about WHY?

On several occassions, this would be followed by thoughts about old age and what eventually follows, making every and any effort pointless. The only thing that has kept me going is the fear of something worse than dying. That of being a mediocre. Sad, shallow, and a bit pretentious, I know. But why did I have to count my steps! It makes me think about other things as trivial like knowing about the capital cities of all the countries in the world and why E. Dickinson cared so much about butterflies, or that we should make it a point to have passive income.

Just the other day, I thought deeply about brown belt and a matching pair of brown shoes. And also, just quite recently, I have added to my bills a gym membership because someone declared it's good for my health (the gym membership, not the bills). 

Oh, norms we all subject ourselves to, which we pass for "fine" because others take comfort in them. All I really care about is wind on my face on a road trip and Saturdays. But even with the realization of the arbitrariness of things, it takes time to be ok with just the basics- just ensuring my balls are covered, so I can get home in one piece. There must be more than just agreeing with everyone or pleasing strangers! 

Now, I wonder. How much of these are truly essential? Which, in itself, is a cause for irritation. For why bother? Because the little prince promotes so? 

Things were much simpler when all I worried about was fetching water at the city water district facility across the river from home or cooking rice after school. I remember how I loathed these chores. But the worst were weekends when I had to go hike up to the farm in the heat of the sun. In the mountain, I'd worry about snakes or hornets, or whether my friends back home had collected more marbles than I had. A horrible thought! So, I swore I would finish school and sit at an office desk for a job. As it turns out, nobody just sits at an office desk for jobs. They also smile at the video camera even when listening to something frustrating and ridiculous. They drive to and from home and sniff menthol to keep awake while waiting for traffic to move, complain about it, and then be at it again the next day. It is, in fact, a whole messy web of complexity that goes on without end, making fetching water a welcome relief, a simplicity that is home. 

But I have to be confronted with a question that sticks in my head like the latest pop song - whatever all this is for? It is funny how I still find time for this when I dont even have any for lunch. I could not count the times I would just agree to anything with anyone during meetings out of hunger, or the times when all I hear in discussions were food even when they were blabbering about solutions design. 

It finds its way into my thoughts and, when you are in the middle of finishing something of great consequence (insert sarcasm here), it does not help.

So, I am acknowledging it. It is a valid question even when it does nothing but ruin schedules and, is in the way of my very own dolce far niente. They say that about solving a problem. First, accept it IS there. And then, resolve it. 

Now, about that last part- resolution.

Blank. 

Let me just backtrack and state the problem for the record, and in a manner that is clear: I have felt that what I am working hard for is pointless. Or to be clearer, I do not see the point of washing my face. 

Let's take a read again. Let it sink in for a few seconds...

While the statement means something and definitely conveys important ideas that many of us would understand, it also does not make sense. It is a senseless problem about having problems about making sense. So, which brings me to my point about marbles and how I was right about not letting my friends get all of it back home. But really, what is the point of washing one's face? There are so many other more important things to do like learning to play the violin, understanding, whale migration patterns, finding ways to help reduce carbon footprint...

Just cooking rice now seems even more inviting.

I could really just be missing the point, too, you know. 

When we talk about the why of things we sometimes think of it as if it's something intrinsic. We look for it in what we do like it is always a part of what it is. Like helping is for the soul, organic is health, financial freedom is happiness, etc. I know I do. And I could be doing the best things in life for nothing really. That's the problem. 

But what about I define my why? What about I actively intend it? I do this because I decide THAT as my why. I do not do it for some made up definition by people I mostly have not even talked to. I sleep early because I need to be up early for sunrise. I like watching it like sunsets. I don't care if it's good for health. I drink water as much as I can because I do feel dry when I don't, plus it helps during long meetings. 

Finding meaning is good, but I think, being able to attach meaning to things is even better. And attaching beautiful, sensible meaning to things, the best.

So, then, to what end? I can't stand my face when it's itchy, hence, the wash basin every night. It's also easier for sleep that way.

- All is pointless and it is fine.

Transistor Radio and Summer

Back at my grandparents' place, decades ago, this was the source of news, music, entertainment and even messages (much like voicemail except everyone can hear it). 

This box would be with us when planting corn, harvesting rice, or making copra. And just before lunch, the whole village would pay extra attention to the program where people from the city would take turns at broadcasting their messages to family, relatives and friends for urgent concerns like money, weddings, deaths, or even a forgotten red towel because baths had not been fulfilling without it.  

This was our company at siesta, with music from the 70's, or at dusk while waiting for rice and dried fish to be ready for dinner. We'd listen to how Ramini, Ang Batang Bronse, would ride the whirlwind to distant lands. 

Sometimes, at night, when the wind is soft and cool, and crickets seem to give voice to the dark but sparkly sky, grandma would let us listen to a bit more music. She would turn down the sound to almost nothing. It would never take long for us to slumber and dream about the hills, our carabao ride to the river and the trees we climbed all summer.

Matnog to Allen

It takes just an hour and a half for the barge to get to Allen from Matnog. It's getting the documents approved and waiting to embark that could take forever!

It was our second time to attempt to take the ro-ro (as we call it) as we continue our drive to Visayas. The first one was botched, after finding out that we were going to wait one day at the port. It was also that time we realized it was not a good thing to do this during long weekends. 

(See video here)

The second time, we went on a regular day and processing the needed documents and paying the fees were a breeze. We got to the port just when they were about to start loading the barge for the next trip. It had already been fully booked, so we had to wait for the next ship to arrive in three hours. We should have just skipped breakfast in Legazpi and left for the port earlier.

We finally left Matnog at 3:00 pm, and arrived 4:30 in Allen. 

Notes:

If you're bringing a vehicle with you, make sure you have the vehicle's OR and CR. 

Fees to pay:

* Ticket (Light vehicle, including driver- P1,300)

* Passenger ticket (P 140/pax)

* LGU (P 25/vehicle; P 10/pax)

* Terminal fee (P 30 per pax)

* Port (P 129)

* Coast guard fee (P 25/pax)

 

Pray and Paddle Home

The earliest recollection I have of the 'power' of prayer is when I was about three or four years old. My mother, cousin, and I were on our way home from a nearby town to get replenishments for our small sari-sari.The sun just disappeared from the west and evening was starting. 

The small boat the three of us were in was riding the gentle waves. It was getting dark, and the wind, soft at first, was starting to pick up. I was getting drowsier by the minute.

 

I must have dozed off as the next thing I remember was mother telling me to hold on tight, rain feeling like dogs falling from the sky, and angry waves. We were now going up and down, left to right. I was holding on tight to both sides of the boat, while my cousin was paddling fast to shore.

Mother told me to pray, so we could get to that part up ahead where there were lights. I wanted to ask how prayers could do that, but rain water was getting into my eyes, and it was difficult to breathe. So, I prayed silently, and my hands hurt from the force of my grip of the boat. This went on for as long as trips from my house in the city to grandma's place. Very long.

Then, the lights ahead got brighter and bigger and, moments later, I felt the boat hit sand. 

We're back home.

The prayer I said saved us. 

Maybe, my cousin did, too.