I noticed my overflowing laundry basket when I got up this morning. I didn't think two weeks was that long, but if I postponed doing it for another week, I might as well head back to Mindanao and grow rice (as my father would tell all of us before when we failed to do our chores).
Growing rice.
It's strange that that did not sound as scary as it used to a decade ago. Before, the images I associated with it were comparable to those of a spent actor deciding to run for president. Now, the first thing that comes to mind is gratification, and next is peace.
What has changed?
I figured I would be sitting on my bed till kingdom come without an answer if I pursue the question, so I looked at my laundry basket again, sighed, and promised that this weekend is all about getting it done.
That's just one of the things that I would like to accomplish this weekend, though. These days, I enjoy torturing myself with lists that supposedly bring essence to my life if done.
Sadly, my lists contain re-named items of things that were not done last week, the week before that and the week before, and the week...
Still, it is better than not having any list at all.
Sure, I have completed some of them- those that do not require thinking like giving my living room a new look, going on a road trip, going to places I have never been to and of course, doing the laundry (which I am not sure fits in, as this requires me to ponder deeply on whether I should do it or just go buy some new clothes to wear instead). However, the more important ones have merely become tired to-do's.
Could it really be that I have been drugged?
A week ago, I was drinking with a friend who was telling me about how he had just decided to quit his job and run his own business. At first, I thought what is with these people who are scurrying towards becoming statistics of people who tried and failed? I was lost in my cynicism when he said something that really stuck with me, "You know, working for any company is like being drugged. You work your ass off for days, get depressed by the fact that you are doing something that no longer makes sense, and then you get your pay on the 15th and the 30th, then, you are on high spirits again. You forget your miserable life for a few days, and then back to being stressed and then, pay day once more. It is a cycle that not only steals your time, but your ideals, as well. You will wake up one morning and realize that you now need to look up what idealism is on the dictionary, let alone spell it!"
Great.
I fervently hoped that this morning was not what my friend was talking about.
I-D-E-A-L-I-S-M. Good. I am still ok.
I may be drugged, but I have not lost my wits entirely.
I know that any day now, I will have to urge myself to face that needs facing, like understanding what's changed about growing rice.
For now, though, let me get out of my bed and put "Do the laudry" on top of my to-do's for this weekend.
Baguio- Sagada- Banaue- Batad
For the second time, I visited the cold Benguet and Ifugao regions.
I was fortunate to be able to enjoy a four-day weekend, and though I failed to book tickets in advance, I was in luck. I found transportation that would bring me to as far as Batad.
For details about this trip, click here.
I was fortunate to be able to enjoy a four-day weekend, and though I failed to book tickets in advance, I was in luck. I found transportation that would bring me to as far as Batad.
For details about this trip, click here.
Untitled
"I'm leaving."
I pause the movie I am watching and look at him,
standing by the door, holding the handles of his big, red bag.
Why only now after eight long years?
He looks down, lifts the bag, and turns.
Before he closes the door, he says,
"I can't fix the shower knob for you anymore."
I pause the movie I am watching and look at him,
standing by the door, holding the handles of his big, red bag.
Why only now after eight long years?
He looks down, lifts the bag, and turns.
Before he closes the door, he says,
"I can't fix the shower knob for you anymore."
A Resolution
For who could stop farewells
One can only let out a smile
pretending to remember the infinite succession
of years
of days
hours, minutes
that had passed before that smile- a child of nostalgia
or a product of one's acceptance
that farewell is the easier way to go
about forgetting.
You marvel at an old friend's recollection
Both of you were trying the bike for the first time
He wanted to go home after the fall
You thought the scratches were painful
But you would never let go
of making it around that waterless fountain.
Now, you only remember the fear of falling.
You are not even sure you can still ride a bike.
Some afternoons, when everything seems busy
the clanging of metals from a house being built
the soft hum of the fan from your living room
some distant shouts of children playing ball, perhaps
You close your eyes for an instant
sip some cheap instant coffee
As you try to notice how it goes down your throat,
your eyes toward where the light of the setting sun
makes the greens of a tree brighter
You remember, you woke up late again.
But even that habitual self-reproach will fade
Like how a friend reminded you
of how you wanted to teach.
I have some years ahead of me.
I will welcome them like a sunny day after weeks of rain
It may be fleeting
before they become fragments
of stories my friends will remind me of
But I will see them pass by
as a child sees
a beautiful, colorful marching band
whose music can be heard even from later years
One can only let out a smile
pretending to remember the infinite succession
of years
of days
hours, minutes
that had passed before that smile- a child of nostalgia
or a product of one's acceptance
that farewell is the easier way to go
about forgetting.
You marvel at an old friend's recollection
Both of you were trying the bike for the first time
He wanted to go home after the fall
You thought the scratches were painful
But you would never let go
of making it around that waterless fountain.
Now, you only remember the fear of falling.
You are not even sure you can still ride a bike.
Some afternoons, when everything seems busy
the clanging of metals from a house being built
the soft hum of the fan from your living room
some distant shouts of children playing ball, perhaps
You close your eyes for an instant
sip some cheap instant coffee
As you try to notice how it goes down your throat,
your eyes toward where the light of the setting sun
makes the greens of a tree brighter
You remember, you woke up late again.
But even that habitual self-reproach will fade
Like how a friend reminded you
of how you wanted to teach.
I have some years ahead of me.
I will welcome them like a sunny day after weeks of rain
It may be fleeting
before they become fragments
of stories my friends will remind me of
But I will see them pass by
as a child sees
a beautiful, colorful marching band
whose music can be heard even from later years
They are possibly not happy
I read the news today, and my attention was drawn to how the CBCP (Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines) is planning on "luring back prodigal children".
It wrote how Cebu Archbishop Jose Palma said that it’s possible that we failed somewhere in the sense that people are transferring to another sector because they are not happy.
The first thing that came to mind is, "WTF!"
So, they merely consider this a possibility? Don't these pious ones really know why many have defected or simply stopped going to church on Sundays? Are they lacking up in there or just playing deaf and blind?
At least, though, they finally got it right. The people are not happy. Not because they have God in their lives but because they have leaders that seem to act as if they may not be able to spell the word L-E-A-D.
For almost 500 years now, the Filipino people have grown tired of their arrogance in asserting that only they know the truth and no one else. History has slapped them many times over with embarrassing moments of how many of their beliefs had been wrong all along. The people have been very understanding. I have been very understanding, knowing that they are also just human beings who are not exempt from making mistakes every now and then. However, there is a limit to that, especially, when they deign to care very little about history repeating itself. There they are, still, at the helm of every idiotic movement, imposing on people, and proselytizing them for a cause that is as clear as morning to somebody who has just gotten up with a hangover. It is tiring, indeed, to hear another priest's sermon on how this and that bill should be opposed or how this and that should not be allowed because the Bible literally says so. Sometimes, I wonder, do they think that God created his image without brains to think with?
Yes, they can guide people to be in the right. They can show the way, but should they have to push people to whatever way they think is the right path?
They are right, I am not happy. I am not happy because they are not letting me to be. To me, they are no different from a nagging wife who does nothing each day but point out all the wrongs by virtue of how she believes them to be wrong.
To CBCP, the people have not lost faith. I have not lost faith. I still believe in God. I still believe that everything has a beginning, a purpose and an end. Sadly, though, I have lost faith in your ability to lead my spirituality. You just plainly do not cut it anymore. I believe 500 years is such a long time for you to prove you're worthy to be the Catholics' leaders in this country.
It wrote how Cebu Archbishop Jose Palma said that it’s possible that we failed somewhere in the sense that people are transferring to another sector because they are not happy.
The first thing that came to mind is, "WTF!"
So, they merely consider this a possibility? Don't these pious ones really know why many have defected or simply stopped going to church on Sundays? Are they lacking up in there or just playing deaf and blind?
At least, though, they finally got it right. The people are not happy. Not because they have God in their lives but because they have leaders that seem to act as if they may not be able to spell the word L-E-A-D.
For almost 500 years now, the Filipino people have grown tired of their arrogance in asserting that only they know the truth and no one else. History has slapped them many times over with embarrassing moments of how many of their beliefs had been wrong all along. The people have been very understanding. I have been very understanding, knowing that they are also just human beings who are not exempt from making mistakes every now and then. However, there is a limit to that, especially, when they deign to care very little about history repeating itself. There they are, still, at the helm of every idiotic movement, imposing on people, and proselytizing them for a cause that is as clear as morning to somebody who has just gotten up with a hangover. It is tiring, indeed, to hear another priest's sermon on how this and that bill should be opposed or how this and that should not be allowed because the Bible literally says so. Sometimes, I wonder, do they think that God created his image without brains to think with?
Yes, they can guide people to be in the right. They can show the way, but should they have to push people to whatever way they think is the right path?
They are right, I am not happy. I am not happy because they are not letting me to be. To me, they are no different from a nagging wife who does nothing each day but point out all the wrongs by virtue of how she believes them to be wrong.
To CBCP, the people have not lost faith. I have not lost faith. I still believe in God. I still believe that everything has a beginning, a purpose and an end. Sadly, though, I have lost faith in your ability to lead my spirituality. You just plainly do not cut it anymore. I believe 500 years is such a long time for you to prove you're worthy to be the Catholics' leaders in this country.
Collateral
I had just gotten out of bed when I received a message from my parents asking me to call them when I get the chance.
Knowing their previous record of sending messages only when there is a problem or when they need money for my sisters' school, I thought I would be some grand poorer before the week ends.
"Do you still smoke?", my father's voice on the phone sounded hesitant. I said, yes, a couple of sticks a day, 8 sticks max.
I felt a little strange with the question, especially, since this was the first time we ever talked about my taking to smoking. They never said anything about the first time I went home from university with a pack of cigarettes. They even bought me an ash tray.
Stammering and sounding worried, my father continued, "Well, your mother and I, we...we just thought that maybe, you should start thinking about quitting". I was shocked, but found myself saying, "I am trying. That is why I go running every now and then to naturally expel the habit. I know it is really bad for my health, so I want to quit as soon as possible".
It has been 11 years and 2 months since the first time I started inhaling nicotine down my lungs. Previous to that, I had always thought that smokers did not have half the brain most people do. It's a no-brainer how smoking kills, and yet, they never seem to care or understand. This was one of the things I thought a normal, good person would actually avoid. Ironically, it was the same belief that led me to start it. With the decision to force myself into a nasty habit, I would be redefining myself. I would be breaking free from a self-concept that was too safe, too ordinary.
Now, this juvenile attempt at being unique has taken its toll. I am stuck, and every time I think of quitting, it only makes me smoke more. I asked a friend who managed to forget about nicotine after more than 10 years of puffing at least 1 pack (20 sticks) a day. To her, it was not really a decision to quit. It was more of a consequence of her decision for a better, healthier lifestyle. It was a holistic change that made quitting cigarettes a mere collateral change. And because it was not really an object of which she had to spend a lot of energy mustering her will against, it was relatively easy. Like her, I also believe that if I focus so much on the negative, meaning by going with the personal campaign: I will not smoke again, I would still have the action smoking for this to come true. I would have nothing to negate if it did not exist. So, I thought, like my friend, I will decide something positive: I will live a healthier, happier and more exciting lifestyle. I know that when I embrace that, smoking would become passe.
"Ok. We were just concerned, with all the news, TV ads, and your sister telling us about the statistics...", my father trailed off. "Yes. I understand. I am slowly getting rid of it", I said. I realized, I was so entranced by the conversation that I only puffed twice before the cigarette I was holding burned out. I was so close to telling myself that should be the last, but I snapped out of it. I know that if I said that, I would be running counter to what I believe. It's not smoking I want to stop, it's a better life (whose explications I am attributing to what I know as the highest ideal there is about life) that I would like to start. If I am still the one who shuns contradiction, then I know that smoking does not fit in. Naturally.
Simple Thing
Keanne could not have sung it better.
I celebrated my 31st birthday last month, and I thought it was going to be another uneventful one. As much as I tried (I don't normally make a big deal of it), it wasn't. I got a surprise bash from fellow managers, and my team gave another surprise blow out the next day. I also got interesting wishes in a jar.
Yes, I tried not to mind it so much, getting another year older. For me, it is just another day, an inevitability. Yet, I have been feeling a little uncomfortable with the idea of ignoring it for two reasons. One, it is a day to be thankful for. Two, it is time to reflect.
***
I am still awed at how there are people who think of this day important because it is my birthday. My family, for example, I know how excited they get when the day approaches. In fact, one of my sisters came to my place and brought a gift and some food. The rest (who live far away), they called to greet me. My friends, too. Many sent text messages, and many more posted their wishes on my website. I could never be more thankful.
But this day is also for me to pause. At least once, in a year, I can think about what I have done, where I am headed, and about my own evaluation of life, if it has changed.
Often, I find myself getting anxious about letting days go by, as if cars fleeting by on a highway. I don't remember any of them. They all happen in the most ordinary way they could. They all lack substance. So, to make up, I would arrange trips that I could mark in my diary, that I could write about. For a time, they fill me, but it does not last. Several months later, the trip transforms into nothing but images and words that I post online.
I remember how I used to convince myself with the belief that life is the one adventure I am looking for. I told myself how I needed not plan on going anywhere to be challenged, to be inspired. I only need to notice things more. It's a shame that I still cannot remember the color of the flowers my neighbor has planted in his small garden by his front gate, which I pass by every day.
On my way to work, I only notice the smog and fail to really see the buildings and the two bridges that I pass by. In the office, where I spend most of my time, I miss a lot of things. I only think of stress when I need to solve a work problem or when I need to come up with a good proposal. I do not notice the miracles that take place.
When I read the messages (written in rolled, small pieces of paper) in the jar that my team gave me for my birthday, I saw a couple of times, how he/she looks up to me, how I am his/her role model. I was stunned. I never thought of myself as that. I never looked up to myself because I thought I was really just doing what I needed to do. Yes, I do things with passion and excellence, but it did not occur to me that I was touching lives, inspiring people.
***
Today, I had been restless since I got up. I did not want the weekend to start without a clear picture of what I should be doing, and that it should be something that matters. I searched the web, played some music, and imagined myself as sombody else. And just like that, it is now only an hour before the sun sets, and all I have done is validate the inevitability of time and the futility of a grand adventure other than each day.
I may still be looking for that simple thing or that I am probably getting old without anything to rely on. Be that as it may, I am very thankful for this never-ending adventure.
"Oh simple thing where have you gone
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin."
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin."
 |
| A jar of birthday wishes |
Yes, I tried not to mind it so much, getting another year older. For me, it is just another day, an inevitability. Yet, I have been feeling a little uncomfortable with the idea of ignoring it for two reasons. One, it is a day to be thankful for. Two, it is time to reflect.
***
I am still awed at how there are people who think of this day important because it is my birthday. My family, for example, I know how excited they get when the day approaches. In fact, one of my sisters came to my place and brought a gift and some food. The rest (who live far away), they called to greet me. My friends, too. Many sent text messages, and many more posted their wishes on my website. I could never be more thankful.
But this day is also for me to pause. At least once, in a year, I can think about what I have done, where I am headed, and about my own evaluation of life, if it has changed.
Often, I find myself getting anxious about letting days go by, as if cars fleeting by on a highway. I don't remember any of them. They all happen in the most ordinary way they could. They all lack substance. So, to make up, I would arrange trips that I could mark in my diary, that I could write about. For a time, they fill me, but it does not last. Several months later, the trip transforms into nothing but images and words that I post online.
I remember how I used to convince myself with the belief that life is the one adventure I am looking for. I told myself how I needed not plan on going anywhere to be challenged, to be inspired. I only need to notice things more. It's a shame that I still cannot remember the color of the flowers my neighbor has planted in his small garden by his front gate, which I pass by every day.
On my way to work, I only notice the smog and fail to really see the buildings and the two bridges that I pass by. In the office, where I spend most of my time, I miss a lot of things. I only think of stress when I need to solve a work problem or when I need to come up with a good proposal. I do not notice the miracles that take place.
When I read the messages (written in rolled, small pieces of paper) in the jar that my team gave me for my birthday, I saw a couple of times, how he/she looks up to me, how I am his/her role model. I was stunned. I never thought of myself as that. I never looked up to myself because I thought I was really just doing what I needed to do. Yes, I do things with passion and excellence, but it did not occur to me that I was touching lives, inspiring people.
***
 |
| My team's birthday cake for me |
Today, I had been restless since I got up. I did not want the weekend to start without a clear picture of what I should be doing, and that it should be something that matters. I searched the web, played some music, and imagined myself as sombody else. And just like that, it is now only an hour before the sun sets, and all I have done is validate the inevitability of time and the futility of a grand adventure other than each day.
I may still be looking for that simple thing or that I am probably getting old without anything to rely on. Be that as it may, I am very thankful for this never-ending adventure.
Calaguas to Mayon
Check out my latest travel blog on Calaguas here.
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Top: Mahabang Buhangin, Calaguas Group of Islands |
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| Top: View of Mt. Mayon from Legaspi's ship port |
Elevator
So we almost got stuck in the elevator. It stopped, went down a bit, and then back up. We waited a good half a minute before the door finally opened and let us out. Before it did, the guy behind muttered, loudly enough for us- the last two to enter- to hear, "There are too many people. That's why!", almost telling us it was our fault.
In an alternate universe, I would beat the guy's nose bloody, because there, I would be taller.
In another universe, I'd probably hire him to get instant explanation for whatever. He does not look like somebody brighter than Johny Bravo but he was there when an explanation was most needed. And how I would trade an entire galaxy just to know why things are.
For instance, why do our building guards like to stand in the narrow entrance when they already have a spot where they could inspect people's bags? Or, why the same guards ignore Filipinos entering the building but would be all smiles to whites, even greeting them good morning?
I feel, though, that this would probably not interest the man in the elevator. I think he likes something that requires more mental calisthenics, like, what is the essence of life, how to be happy, and why metaphors being trifled with can give birth to love!
In that case, I would like to bring him to our company meetings. I would like him to tell me why it should be asked what is the relation between a performance appraisal and an evaluation. He would probably ignore the obvious, get something deeper into the subject and still give an awesome discussion on how these are as interrelated as boxing and the Philippines.
Or, if he wants more challenge, I could ask him to talk to Globe over the phone. He might be able to explain why Globe's representative would not speak with me all because I told them my real name when they asked. That is in spite of the explanation I gave them about how I had direct approval and had documentations (the details of which, like account number, etc, they could ask me for verification) to prove it. I told the woman on the phone, "Ok, in that case, I would call back and I would pretend I was my company's authorized representative". So I did, I called back and told her I was E.S. I completed my business with them in just 5 minutes, and I had my new iPhone 4s with me in 2 days. The elevator guy would probably tell me, "That's because you said you were the representative." Sleek!
In this universe, sadly, this guy is just the guy who makes irrelevant comments and I need to be considerate. He could be just in a hurry or, worse, he could be right! The elevator's capacity is up to 15 people and there were 8 of us. I must have missed something in my Physics classes that could show how we could be heavy enough to make the lift go berserk. Or, simply, all 8 of us could have had 5 bowls of potatoes for lunch, doubling our normal weight. I have heard of stories of how one's weight could actually jam doors, and I think that this is one of those moments.
So, instead of beating his nose bloody, I stopped when a clear bruise could already be expected on his forehead...in another alternate universe.
In an alternate universe, I would beat the guy's nose bloody, because there, I would be taller.
In another universe, I'd probably hire him to get instant explanation for whatever. He does not look like somebody brighter than Johny Bravo but he was there when an explanation was most needed. And how I would trade an entire galaxy just to know why things are.
For instance, why do our building guards like to stand in the narrow entrance when they already have a spot where they could inspect people's bags? Or, why the same guards ignore Filipinos entering the building but would be all smiles to whites, even greeting them good morning?
I feel, though, that this would probably not interest the man in the elevator. I think he likes something that requires more mental calisthenics, like, what is the essence of life, how to be happy, and why metaphors being trifled with can give birth to love!
In that case, I would like to bring him to our company meetings. I would like him to tell me why it should be asked what is the relation between a performance appraisal and an evaluation. He would probably ignore the obvious, get something deeper into the subject and still give an awesome discussion on how these are as interrelated as boxing and the Philippines.
Or, if he wants more challenge, I could ask him to talk to Globe over the phone. He might be able to explain why Globe's representative would not speak with me all because I told them my real name when they asked. That is in spite of the explanation I gave them about how I had direct approval and had documentations (the details of which, like account number, etc, they could ask me for verification) to prove it. I told the woman on the phone, "Ok, in that case, I would call back and I would pretend I was my company's authorized representative". So I did, I called back and told her I was E.S. I completed my business with them in just 5 minutes, and I had my new iPhone 4s with me in 2 days. The elevator guy would probably tell me, "That's because you said you were the representative." Sleek!
In this universe, sadly, this guy is just the guy who makes irrelevant comments and I need to be considerate. He could be just in a hurry or, worse, he could be right! The elevator's capacity is up to 15 people and there were 8 of us. I must have missed something in my Physics classes that could show how we could be heavy enough to make the lift go berserk. Or, simply, all 8 of us could have had 5 bowls of potatoes for lunch, doubling our normal weight. I have heard of stories of how one's weight could actually jam doors, and I think that this is one of those moments.
So, instead of beating his nose bloody, I stopped when a clear bruise could already be expected on his forehead...in another alternate universe.
Leap of Faith
I just received a resignation letter from one of my staff. It says she is thankful for the time she has spent with the team, but that she has to seek growth somewhere abroad.
I was saddened not only because she will be a big loss to the department but more importantly also because she is doing something I have always wanted to do (not really going overseas but)- a leap of faith.
The last time I did this was many years ago when I decided to leave home to go to college in a place that takes 36 hours by ship. It was growth in celestial proportions, which met me. It was not easy but it was the challenge that kept me going, propelled me to finishing what I had set out to accomplish.
In fact, it was the difficulty of it all that made me feel alive. Time was gold and every minute was spent on learning what must be done not only to survive but to excel!
Then I graduated. I got a job. I got content with finishing to-do's within the eight-hour work days. I have learned to fear inconveniences, and got sucked into the maelstrom of time tables and calendars.
It's like staring into thin layer of intricately designed glass, beyond which is a plethora of possibilities- both good and bad. I continue to build on that layer painstakingly, afraid that the chaos that I see through it might infect the order of things on the side I am in. I continue, each day, to keep things in order, but once in a while, I take a glance at the other side, what if?
This resignation letter is another reminder of how things around me are constantly changing. People are taking leaps of faith in the name of adventure, of growth, while I am warming my chair at my desk, fixing my schedule.
Sure, things are going well. Everything seems to be in its right place, but what now? Do I merely stare at the order I have created? Or should I go hunt for chaos with the uncertainty that I might not ever be able to find order in them?
I wonder, do leaps of faith start with a date, a place or a letter?
I was saddened not only because she will be a big loss to the department but more importantly also because she is doing something I have always wanted to do (not really going overseas but)- a leap of faith.
The last time I did this was many years ago when I decided to leave home to go to college in a place that takes 36 hours by ship. It was growth in celestial proportions, which met me. It was not easy but it was the challenge that kept me going, propelled me to finishing what I had set out to accomplish.
In fact, it was the difficulty of it all that made me feel alive. Time was gold and every minute was spent on learning what must be done not only to survive but to excel!
Then I graduated. I got a job. I got content with finishing to-do's within the eight-hour work days. I have learned to fear inconveniences, and got sucked into the maelstrom of time tables and calendars.
It's like staring into thin layer of intricately designed glass, beyond which is a plethora of possibilities- both good and bad. I continue to build on that layer painstakingly, afraid that the chaos that I see through it might infect the order of things on the side I am in. I continue, each day, to keep things in order, but once in a while, I take a glance at the other side, what if?
This resignation letter is another reminder of how things around me are constantly changing. People are taking leaps of faith in the name of adventure, of growth, while I am warming my chair at my desk, fixing my schedule.
Sure, things are going well. Everything seems to be in its right place, but what now? Do I merely stare at the order I have created? Or should I go hunt for chaos with the uncertainty that I might not ever be able to find order in them?
I wonder, do leaps of faith start with a date, a place or a letter?
Oasis
Sometimes, you find yourself eating at a fast-food chain on a Friday night. Y
ou don't mind how late, but you are going to have your lunch.
You look around. You think someone should be sitting opposite you.
You ignore the thought and think about "5 weeks and 6 days".
She must have planned it. Having another kid could not be taken lightly after everything.
But that's her, you tell yourself.
You notice the ID you are wearing. You've worn it proudly for the past 7 years. You scoff at yourself, thinking that, at least, she has done something she has willed.
You remember how, once, you wanted to go to the remotest villages of the north, learn how organic vegetables are grown, and enjoy the peace and quiet in the mountains.
You've done nothing for it.
Tomorrow, you think, I will start with the whites then the colors. Spinning them should not take two hours. After, I'll dust the fan and wait for Monday.
You finish your late lunch and, quickly, you assure yourself, it's not too late to live that other dream. I have time.
You wonder if she is going to ask you for a name for the little one inside her. But you can only think of cabbage to grow in that little village up the mountain.
It has been a long 7 years.
ou don't mind how late, but you are going to have your lunch.
You look around. You think someone should be sitting opposite you.
You ignore the thought and think about "5 weeks and 6 days".
She must have planned it. Having another kid could not be taken lightly after everything.
But that's her, you tell yourself.
You notice the ID you are wearing. You've worn it proudly for the past 7 years. You scoff at yourself, thinking that, at least, she has done something she has willed.
You remember how, once, you wanted to go to the remotest villages of the north, learn how organic vegetables are grown, and enjoy the peace and quiet in the mountains.
You've done nothing for it.
Tomorrow, you think, I will start with the whites then the colors. Spinning them should not take two hours. After, I'll dust the fan and wait for Monday.
You finish your late lunch and, quickly, you assure yourself, it's not too late to live that other dream. I have time.
You wonder if she is going to ask you for a name for the little one inside her. But you can only think of cabbage to grow in that little village up the mountain.
It has been a long 7 years.
My Ride
When I am not driving to work, I take the jeepney. For me, that's a good way to save money, save the environment and be reminded of where I used to be.
One thing that I have always wondered about myself when taking the jeep, though, is how, when the driver seems in a hurry to get all of us passengers to our deathbeds, I could not tell him to slow down. The same can be said about those drivers that play music so loudly my ears could bleed. I know that my safety is at stake and have all the right to complain, but I just couldn't find the courage to do so.
Once I was close to doing it, then I noticed somebody I knew on the same ride. I hesitated and let the whole thing pass. I didn't want to be embarrassed. I thought, it was not common for jeepneys to crash this side of the city, anyway, tail wagging between my legs.
I guess that's it. Fear of embarrassment stops me from speaking up for my and everybody else's safety. Truth is, sometimes I do not ask for the one-peso change anymore just so I could avoid having to yell at the driver for it. It's different with cabs, though. It's not difficult to tell cab drivers to slow down or drive safely, as either I am the only one in it or I am with friends. With complete strangers, however, I would not be able to stand the thought of them staring at me after complaining aloud as if I were some poor little thing. What if the driver ignores me? Worse, what if the driver cusses back and drives even more dangerously? With these idiots on the road, you can never really tell. I would rather have my rights as an individual be a thing for the books.
Maybe one of the reasons why I never want to stop taking the public transportation is the challenge. I posed that as a challenge to myself many years ago, to be able to comfortably stand up for my rights when the situation calls for it. I don't want to keep on ignoring this disregard for how things should be.
I am not sure if other passengers feel the same way I do or if they are just used to how these public transportations do not have any care for safety, good service or plain courtesy. I can't really say which one is better.
Then I wonder why corruption is everywhere in government. With people, me included, not speaking up for something so important as safety, I can just imagine how many more social ills we are tolerating.
Cruisin'
For the second year now, January is the month I consider the most expensive after December. It is when I have my car registered at LTO and its maintenance done. That is not mentioning the fact that this is also the time when I shop for gifts for those I promised presents last Christmas.
Though the car registration still gave me the same pain I have when I look at the latest pair of shoes that I have to postpone buying again, I actually remember feeling joy after the 45-minute process was over (Yes. It took me less than an hour to do that at the LTO branch along Shaw Blvd, where the old Ynares Gym used to be).
The maintenance was another story.
I was advised by a nearby garage that I would need to cough up 14000 pesos for all the fixes. But any car owner knows that the truth of the matter is only half of what these commercial garage people are saying. So, I paid my trusted mechanic a visit instead. It turned out, the garage had asked 10000 peso more.
My mechanic does not have a decent place to work on the car. I park mine right in front of his house, and that's it, he does his thing. You can just imagine how inconvenient it is for him, for me, for his neighbors and for the people passing by. However, it seems everyone has gotten used to it. They do not mind the hassle.
I do, though. That's why I always try to go by other garages before I finally decide to go to him.
Depending on what I need to have done on my car, I wait for hours, sometimes all day. I sit at a store across from his house, as that is the only place I could wait on him. The store sells all kinds of food, so there, I could have breakfast, lunch, and thankfully, I do not go all the way to dinner.
But the last time I went there, I did something out of the ordinary. After having my power lunch at the store (Knowing that I would have to wait all day), as usual, I decided to go around the place. This was something I hadn't really done though I'd already been there several times. I had never really bothered exploring. So, this time, I did.
I went around and found this interesting dock by the river. People cross toward the other bank, in another city, on a small boat that can sit about 20 to 30 people. Getting to the other side does not really take more than 5 minutes, and it is a very convenient and fast way of getting to that area. The sight is already stunning as it is, and I wonder how more beautiful it could have been if it were cleaner...
This dock has a shed with benches for passengers to wait on, so I stayed there the whole afternoon till sunset, listening to about 5 elderly talk about how everything used to be. One shared how he used to serenade different girls every night to woo them. He even sang to everyone listening to his story, and boy could he sing well! If not for the text message I received from my mechanic, I would have taken a late afternoon nap with that voice.
It was a great day, what with my car now well-maintained, and having spent time at that dock with people that still remember how the river used to be young. It was the only time I forgot about how expensive January is.
How the Universe Resolves Tedium
I wanted to send this to our CFO...
Hi, Eric (he is a namesake)!
Hi, Eric (he is a namesake)!
I accidentally spilled some drink on my iphone and now, the backlight does not work (even after 24 hours of trying to dry it out).
Everything else but the backlight works fine . Is there some kind of voodoo magic that I can perform so I can use it again?
Desperately,
Eric
His most probable reply...
Hi, Eric!
Get the latest one that's got Siri. She can tell you all about magic.
Eric
What I am hoping he would say..
Hi, Eric!
We finally got the new iPhone for you after the long wait. As for the old one, we'll cover the cost of having it repaired and you can still keep it!
Eric
Without a doubt, Gatorade is a cursed drink. It can destroy 5 days of your life...
Hi, Eric!
We finally got the new iPhone for you after the long wait. As for the old one, we'll cover the cost of having it repaired and you can still keep it!
Eric
Without a doubt, Gatorade is a cursed drink. It can destroy 5 days of your life...
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