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?

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.

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)!

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...

Transitions

From my desk at the office, I have a view of a mountain range that looks like an area graph, in dark green, mostly a steady horizontal, with one minor peak towards the rightmost end.

On beautiful afternoons, this range would be a picturesque background behind a sea of houses and a few buildings jutting upwards here and there. Looking at the contrast between the structures illuminated by the fast setting sun, and the green, almost black, background evokes warmth and respite.

These afternoons.

Strangely, they make me think of the red slippers I used when going to the farm as a kid. It is a thought to smile about but, it's probably just lack of caffeine most of the time. They also remind me of my black notebook where I would scribble notes from university classes. I liked how it had looked so worn and old, and how I would never have traded it for an iPad. I also remember, "What is essential is invisible to the eye..." It took me a long time to understand why the rose would cough when she was clearly not sick. I thought that was funny.

But I have to bring myself back to reality, where I read an email about rewarding the alcoholics in the office, or the one about a benefit that we have to pay for. On some special days, I have to urge myself to see through a situation that is deserving of judgment less than positive, explaining the basics of culture. And I have learned this by heart: it is difficult to have the best when it is impossible for you to state a logical understanding of it. Then, I wonder, how long should transitions be? 6 years? 

I suspect that somewhere between the rose, my black notebook, the pair of red slippers and the mountain range is an answer.

Breaking Through Forgiveness

The other day, I read about the former president's arrest, and I could not stop myself from pitying her. Then, came the shame of this involuntary emotion, reminding myself of how she had robbed the country for a decade.
I don't know if I should be thankful for the reflection that followed after what I felt about her being served the warrant. I just thought that maybe they should have waited a little longer or till she got better. "For Christ's sakes, she can barely move!"
But that had been long overdue. I waited years for her to pay for what she had done, for insulting my capacity to think, for thinking she could get away with anything, for making me realize that if it isn't about me not being able to do anything, it is about me being lazy to do something.
I am not really sure whether humanity should still be considered at this point. If I look at the abuses that she had done, my anger awakens.
I just thought that there could be something about my instinctual pity for her (perhaps, a very Filipino attitude?). I know she does not deserve mercy. I know that she had committed all these deceptions with full knowledge of what she was sacrificing and disregarding. However, how could I still feel sorry for her, catching myself silently telling everyone, "Let her get well!"

Justice over humanity is more of the rational choice here. Compared to everything that she had wrought while in power, where she is right now is merely an inconvenience.
I must never forget that.