big cup of crazy or devil incarnate?

on life's journey, you mean some odd people, some odder than others, some are just not odd but maybe plainly just crazy ... i chatted recently with an SFC brother about a woman i met who claimed to be the Holy Spirit ... see the conversation below ...

10:09 PM me: hi shaun ... are you busy

pls pray for me

i don't know if i just had an oppression of sorts

Shaun: hey there..

10:10 PM whats up PA?

me: i just met someone who claimed to be the holy spirit

i thought what a big cup of crazy

i kept on repeating it in my head

coz she was speaking in scripture lsanguage but it was distorted

Shaun: where was this?

10:11 PM me: here in geneva after church

she was introduced by a common friend

who i think was skeptical of her too

Shaun: a vision, dream, apparition? walking..or sleeping?

oh..

me: i was talking to her

that's why i said ... either big cup of crazy or the devil himself

10:12 PM Shaun: she said she was the H.S?

what did she talk about?

me: she said she was the annointed one

10:13 PM yes ... she said she was the HS personified

and i said a silent prayer for her and me while we were talking

i kept repeating what a big cup of crazy and that for her to be healed if her crazy talk was borne out of some kind of traumatic experience

10:15 PM Shaun: how did your friend meet her?

me: i asked her and they said that they met in 2000

and she claimed that they were friends (this was the crazy lady) because God had wanted her friend to accommodate her when she came to switzerland because she was doing His work

10:16 PM i felt so sorry for her

she was speaking logically at times then sometimes she was just ranting

Shaun: wow... that is strange..

me: yes ... that's why i need your prayers

Shaun: most definately..

me: the prayer that we pray after a prayover

Shaun: i have never heard of that before..

me: to wash away all that i heard

Shaun: the personification of the H.S

me: yes ... it was bizaare

10:17 PM and i am glad that God gave me strength to not laugh or to just feel for her

10:18 PM Shaun: ya..cause its also kinda scary..at last for me to hear this...

I will continue prayers tonight for this person, your friend and you..

did she give any other name? ID?

me: thanks shaun

Shaun: i mean she is travelling..so she has to be using something...

10:19 PM me: grabeh ... i think you wouldn't have laughed either because she was so serious

what do you mean "using something"?

Shaun: some form of ID to travel with..

10:20 PM what do ou mean by distored srciptual language?

me: she could quote the Bible

perfectly verses and all

but like literal interpretations

10:21 PM she believes that it's her work to call the 144000 people that were supposedly saved in revelation

10:22 PM Shaun: now that wierd, cause i didnt think that was a task of the H.S, but of an archangel.. not that i know a lot of How God's kingdom works.. but the H.S has always been the true being manifested in the eternal Love of Father a d Son, a Love so real its a person..

hmmmm...

well.. lets pray for her and your safety..

what ever it is..

me: yes ... thanks shaun

Shaun: if there is truth to be told, May God grant the wisdom of the spritual truth and the knowledge of the worldy truth upon us all

10:23 PM me: worldly truth .. she used that word a lot

she used wisdom too

she said that GOd had given her wisdom and knowledge

Shaun: well, being gifts of the H.S I imagine she would mention most of them ..

me: and that it was a burden for her

10:24 PM Shaun: there's an issue right there.. for the burden would never be laid upon the Love of the Lord..

gifts from God are always good and desirable..

me: sigh ...

10:25 PM she contradicted herself

she said that she was some sort of hero

and she didn't want to die

and because she was doing God's work

Shaun: but death only exists here on earth..

me: it was okay

Shaun: so weird.. PA.. wow.. i praise God that he gave you courage for that

10:26 PM me: she said that there would be a big earthquake in california and that she could see the four corners of teh earth

yes .. me too ... i'm glad that i wasn't enveloped in the twisted package of the devil's work

or whatever it is

Shaun: so she was referring to revalation type events..

10:27 PM me: she referred to the old and new testaments

she said she had done what was written and not had followed what was written

Shaun: hmm.. well. i need to get goign to pick up one of the sfc sisters from her work and take her home.. but we'll pray for you.. and i'll talk with you more later.. May God also grant you rest and calm the child within, so that you may rest easy

me: that in reading the bible she first had to have done those deeds and that she was personified in its pages

10:28 PM Shaun: whoa..hmmm

me: thanks shaun

Shaun: no problem.. I'm here for you if you need anythig else PA.. God Bless

i'll sign on later .. we can chat if its not late for you..

10:29 PM me: ok thanks

Shaun: cya later.. be safe

10:30 PM me: yup

talking talking to donna now

will ask for her prayers too ... you just tell her the details if she ask

s

Shaun: ok..i'm calling her later to discuss..

God Bless

me: God bless too

Going home ...

It's been nine (9) months since my last trip to Manila. It all seems like a blur. I have to store up enough leave so that I could stay a month or two.

I'm going home this year so that my family and I could finally celebrate the advent season together. It's been three years since our last Christmas together. I think this is nothing compared to the many OFWs that are abroad and are undocumented who haven't seen their families for decades for any occasion. I feel sad for them. I feel the longing but I know it's nothing compared to raising a child over the telephone.

Two years ago, I met a lady who left the Philippine Government service in search of a better opportunity abroad. She was well-educated but now she cleans houses. Recently, I saw her with a man. I know she's married but the guy had his arm around her. I thought, what's happening here? Like many OFWs who are undocumented, loneliness gets the best of them. They start "living in" with someone in a sort of acceptable marital infidelity. Everybody does it, why can't I? I love my spouse but I'm lonely are some of the excuses.

I cannot condemn this as being a single person, even I feel this loneliness abroad. Who am I to judge them? But it is a reality ...

As I go home this year even at extreme costs and for a limited period, I will try to make the most of it to honour all of those who can't come home to see their families and friends.

I honour those parents that are able to raise good children despite the distance. It takes a lot dedication to keep watch from so far away and what ultimate sacrifice is there for a parent to leave a child for that same child's future? Going home is sacrificed for a better tomorrow.

I just hope that it was all worth it. The social costs of migration has become so big that we are looking at an exponential number of broken families in the Philippines.

Mirrors of happiness

(originally drafted on 3/6/07 ... completed only today)

After two years of not going home to the Philippines, I was ecstatic to be back home. It was a cherished 13 days in dear old Manila with the hustle and bustle of city life and where meeting friends randomly becomes second nature.

I came home on February 14 to catch the best night of the UP Fair. True enough, ...

****

This has been embargoed for over eight months due to extreme busyness.

****

... it was the best night to be at UP.

It was like looking into the mirrors of the past to see the happiness that I so cherished when I was in UP. All those years of hard work but it's not just that. It's also the endless hours I spent in the tambayan (hangout) to wait for my classes and to exchange random thoughts with other UPians.

It was a place that left an impression in your heart and whenever you look in the mirror you see the product of that experience.

Coming so many years after my first year in UP (I've come back before), this was the only time I felt a bit detached. For one, I didn't know so many people. My batchmates were all on scholarships in Japan or elsewhere and I would be coming to UP to see UP and not to see my friends.

Gazing at the looking-glass of time, the outlines of the people are a bit blurry not as sharp as before but there is still the same feeling of home and excitement looking at it.

In life, we often look at our mirrors of happiness but instead of seeing the happy times, we look at the blurs. We lose sight of what the glory days held for us. We look at the advancing time and seek to recreate that time when we were at our prime.

To be stuck in that place would be tantamount to being stagnant. For people to move forward, we need to look at our mirrors of happiness as benchmarks and not as chain balls. It's what pushes us. It is what drives us to go to the future.

As I get older, it's easier to be caught in nostalgic moments. Looking at myself in the mirror, I want to see my former self. But would I be the way I am now if not for my former "glory days". No one can steal them from me. Not even the mirror of time.

So, I look at my mirrors of happiness and see the good old days. I try to look without bitterness or regret but only of nostalgia and of the hope that maybe, that same mirror will reflect today's reality.

Social consumable

There are some days that you just feel like you can't be around people or perhaps you're not in your element so you don't want to see people or let people see you in that state. But because you've been in the light too much to withdraw from it might mean unpleasantries from other people.

I've been thinking about how my mom has become a social consumable. She's one of those people that everybody wants to get a hold of. She's in a position to help but not only that, she's just plainly a nice person to talk to or be with.

But to what extent should we become social consumables that we lose ourselves?

I was exchanging emails with a fellow correspondent. She said she was tired of doing so many reports although she likes it because the Filipino community around her has expected it from her and she has won their trust and she feels obligated to report on their events.

I told her that I used to be like that too. But I remember what my old priest said: "Trying to please everyone is the beginning of madness." It holds true for many of us who are people pleasers that we compromise our integrity for the sake of keeping the status quo or to avoid argument or confrontation and in the end we lose ourselves and our minds by plaguing ourselves with thoughts of "he said/she said". God forbid somebody should say something negative about us! It will literally drive you crazy to care what other people would or could say.

What about Jesus? He is the epitome of a non-pleaser but at the same time a social consumable. If it weren't for his mother he would have never performed that miracle simply because His time hadn't come. But he succumbed to maternal pressure. But He wasn't a crowd favorite among the Pharisees or Sadducees. They killed him for teaching love outside the Jewish template. He ate during fasting season and he challenged the status quo.

Where do we stop trying to please other people so that they will learn to love us for who we are and not for what they want us to be?

How do we become a social consumable who somebody will pay a high price to consume knowing that this one is unique and not the run-of-the-mill Joe or Jane? It's by being who we are and being proud of what we're capable of and acknowledging that we can't please everyone. It's not an excuse to be a social b**** but to know that each one if they dig hard enough can carve their own little niches in this world.

Do you have a "consume by" date?

UP Naming Mahal

Getting into the University of the Philippines (UP) was almost a fluke for me. I was running around applying to other schools and didn't know that I had been accepted on the pending list of UP. I almost went to another school! It would have never been the same. At UP, I found my lifelong friends. I found my roots. I found myself and I wrote till it hurt. It was the only school that I stayed in long enough to finish. It was literally the melting pot of your red activists, your braniacs, the most beautiful women, the not so beautiful men (sorry), and greatest of all, it was where we as students were taught that we are not divorced from society and that we should give back to our country.

I had been like that ever since my mom inculcated in us how the Government is sending us to school. This time, it was the people of the Philippines that was sending us to school.

There, I learned to be more "masa", more open to different points of view and more importantly, there I learned that if you try hard enough, you can really make it. On my first year, the dean of the college said, "It's not the smart ones that finish, it's the hard-working ones". I never classified myself in the "smart" category so I sweated blood to do my best. I could have been the average student in my mind. And thank God, I finished alright.

Through the years, a lot has changed at UP. The general education curriculum has been modified and a part of me disagrees because it doesn't mold us any more into the well-rounded UPians we are. Students can now pick and choose their classes. Something tells me that I wouldn't be able to relate to the products of the new system as I could relate to my peers and those older than me that were the product of the old system where we took, humanities, social sciences and P.I. 100 as prerequesites to other courses. We all had the same "shared experience".

One hundred years has passed and many things have changed. The demography is UP is slightly more monied, tuition is higher, parking space is a problem, etc.

For the 1998 centennial, UP has produced a new hymn. Here it is ...


UP naming mahal
Pamantasan ng bayan
Tinig ng masa
Ang siyang lagi nang pakikinggan

Malayong lupain
Di kailangang marating
Dito maglilingkod sa bayan natin
Dito maglilingkod sa bayan natin

Silangang mapula
Sagisag magpakailanman
Ating ipaglaban
Laya ng diwa't kaisipan

Humayo't itanghal
Giting, tapang at dangal
Mabuhay ang lingkod ng taong bayan
Mabuhay ang lingkod ng taong bayan!

Resting on my itsy bitsy laurels

It's not everyday that one could get a compliment at work. If you didn't get any it meant that you were at least doing the job properly. The horror would be if you got a call from the boss - the conclusion would always be: What did I do wrong???

But today, after all the drama of my personal life, a translator came into my office and told me I did a good job with his Conference on Disarmament documents and for taking the time to look up all the names of the ambassadors who spoke at the Conference. I did it automatically because I knew the job was going to come back to us after he made his edits and we would retype the names anyway. But this extra effort I put would be unnoticed or at least not verbally appreciated. So, I feel good that for the rarest of moments, I receive a compliment.

I used to live on compliments but reality told me that one couldn't function like that. If there were none, it's like running on an empty tank. We must be our own fuel and God should be enough to affirm us. As long as we know that we are working to the best of our abilities, it should be enough. But it always makes me feel good to receive a compliment.

Runaway brother

As if the leaving of my mom and brother were not dramatic enough, my brother decided to run away the morning of their departure.

He had been sulking since he found out they were about to go home. You could hardly talk to him let alone bring up the subject.

The past weeks he had drowned himself in his friends, in activies for the Youth for Christ, including a conference here in Geneva and a service trip to Italy for the European Kids Village. In the hope of lessening the pain of the departure, we hoped that all these activities would somehow cushion the news of imminent departure. We were wrong.

We knew he was angry and upset about leaving but we didn't know to what extent he would take it.

To better capture the drama, I will tell the story with a timeline:

6.00 Wake up call
7.00 Departure of Mama for the airport for early check-in
7.40 Shower time for me
8.00 Reminder for my brother to take a shower
8.20 Talked to my brother to help me with luggage - he leaves the house
8.25 Comes back because he forgot something and leaves again
8.30 Mama has checked in her luggage
8.33 Mama calls brother and doesn't say where he is
9.10 Boarding time, brother no where to be found, reported to airport police that brother is missing
9.20 Tells airport ground staff that brother is missing and luggage will be offloaded
9.25 Supposed ETD (estimated time of departure) - no sign of brother
9.30 Baggage offloaded/Mama comes out of arrivals with baggage
10.00 Homebound meanwhile friends were called to inform and watch out for brother
12.30 Search for him at the gare; while other friends check out the airport; non-stop phone calls on how people can help
13.15 Go to church to pray for brother
14.00 Brother is found! His friend's parents told him to come over
22.30 Meeting with brother after he's ready to talk
00.00 Finally sees brother and hugs him

I'm tempted to opt for the cliche "All's well that ends well" BUT this is the reality of diplomatic life or any life that involves moving your loved ones, children especially, when it comes to saying goodbye to established relationships in that place. It was too painful for my brother to leave. He had made his statement that he didn't want to go. It was evident. But staying here was not a choice as he needs parental guidance and male influence to give him a male role model. He can only get that in the Philippines.

I didn't get to talk to him and I thought it would be better that way as I am still beating myself up from the thought that when he wanted to talk I immediately shut him out knowing full well that he would plead his case to stay here. I am sorry for that. But I didn't want to be cornered by a bunch of youths pleading on behalf of my brother. It was not the place nor the time. The time had come on its own after my brother decided to be a prodigal brother/son. And I'm glad that I'll be enjoying my mother and brother's company for a few more days and hopefully, when the dust has settled they will be able to leave peacefully and without much delay this weekend.

It was perfect timing and the best catharsis that lessened the pain of departure on all of us. It seems like a deux ex machina in a film where God's hands really made the plot move.

I am thankful that he has returned and I hope to be more of a sister to him and listen to his problems.

Au revoir, maman

The true transient city of Geneva has become a reality for me. Mama is leaving in a few hours for good en route to the Philippines. But it's not really Geneva that makes her leave, it's her diplomatic life that brings her from country to country and after six years, she is recalled to serve at capital in Manila.

Like every posting, she rushes to pack and leaves everything for the last minute. It came from her and I've never really heard it straight from her: "Maybe I do this to cope"; so she doesn't have to deal with the emotional part of goodbyes. She likes to be so busy that she forgets or is too tired to feel.

Goodbyes are hard for any culture, in any land, for any person. I think it's one of those universal human truths that just comes to haunt you. Sometimes it's welcomed but when it's your loved ones, you hope that day never comes.

For me, for the first time in my life, I will truly be on my own, in a foreign country. I will be left with Tita Minda but it's not really the same as a full house with Mama just there. No matter how old I get, I always miss my mom.

This time, I'm trying not to cry. She's left many times before. It was the hardest time in my life when she left us in the Philippines with our relatives. She didn't come home for almost two years. I thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown. I made it though and by God's grace, she came home just in time.

As she leaves this place, many happy memories come to fore. I still remember when I first came to Geneva and she picked us up in the white Toyota van of the labour office from the airport. I still remember that smell of April spring and the joy I felt to be reunited with my mom who was just plucked out of war-torn Iraq. I said it was truly a beautiful place. All these beautiful places are tied up with my mom's presence. I will now create new ones with other people. It's difficult to be separated. But as she said, we all have our own lives to live. No matter how much we try to be together, we are bound to lead separate lives. She with her diplomatic postings, my work at the UN, my brother's love of French culture, my other brothers' love of staying in one place. And mother's benchmark for good parenting is that we can fly on our own. If she has raised us to be independent and can live without her then she's done a good job. With a benchmark like that, we're bound to really live apart.

I hope I get to home this Christmas so I can be with all of them. I will be a real OFW now sending home monthly. I wonder how it will be.

As Mama leaves, I hope that it will not be so bad and not too sad. And that even if we're miles apart, we will still be together in spirit.

bahay-bahayan

tita minda said "para lang tayong nagbabahay-bahayan". i didn't exactly know what she meant. when she explained it was like we were playing the kid's game when you pretend to put up a house and do chores and the things you do when you're in the house.

i never really thought about it. i guess it's also the first time that we've ever had such a small place - it's a studio with a separate kitchen and bathroom. the room is about 20 square metres. i'm not really sure. we put up an artificial wall thanks to the big cabinet that splits our room into hers and mine. of course, it's but all artificial. we share one light and the space is practically one. so, we can hear everything.

when we've lived in other places before like the "big house" in the philippines, yes, we lived in one room too squashed in to fit all of us but we also had the whole house to explore. we just slept in one room, that's all.

this time around, it's like a make believe house indeed with partitions made of cabinets and other things. but what is a house or any building without its occupants to make it a home. hopefully, we'll feel at home soon.

today, for the first time in a long time, i sat down in my room, fixed my things, read the newspaper and watched a movie. i think it's a good sign of a future that is more relaxed and cozy.

small spaces either brings people closer or drives them apart. i hope it will be the former.

movin' on out

i didn't think i would feel like this ... not so soon.

the movers came this monday and started packing up mama's things. it was all so definite. i felt a sinking feeling at the pit of my stomach. i felt my heartbeat and i cringed at the thought - she's leaving at last.

it's been a roller coaster of dates of departure. she was due to leave in february. she was extended till june then she almost went at the end of june and now till the end of july but actually leaving second week of august.

it didn't sink in that my mother and all the family i have in geneva are actually leaving. the movers have packed up almost 80 per cent of the house. tita minda doesn't have a bed anymore. there are no furnitures in the living room.

---

it's now friday and the movers have finally loaded all the things in the container. bye bye white toyota celica. bye bye everything. the neighbours will also be missed. it's all coming so suddenly.

now, the bluewin tv guy is here at my apartment setting up the tv. everything is happening at the same time, i can't feel sad yet. maybe it's better this way.

i will write more as the move becomes final and post pictures too.

stranger than fiction

the saying goes ... we watch drama (soap operas) to see real life and we watch the news to see drama.

i watched stranger than fiction with will ferrell and freedom writers with hilary swank the other day.

i thought to myself how life has become so unbelievable sometimes that even if you put it in a fiction novel, it would still seem surreal.

as i watch the news, i see the killings in iraq and i can't believe that the place where i used to live has been reduced to a statistical contest of who's got the most casualties: the iraqis or the americans? whose bomb went off to kill innocent civilians? and which sect of islam is waging jihad?

i see also the unfolding of madeleine's story - the poor kidnapped little girl and the media frenzy accorded it. i am glad that at least it's being covered but what hypocrisy as thousands of children disappear from their homes, from their driveways in third world or developing countries without as much as a milk carton photo? who gave them media mileage? is a white girl more important than a girl of color?

i can also just imagine the twisted plot of whoever kidnapped her to be so inconceivable and morally distorted or simply evil that it belongs in an agatha christie mystery with darker story lines.

with everything that could be seen in phantasmal stories, everyday life doesn't veer far away from it - with dark-clad men bringing evil to the land as the mighty burning bush has earned the ire of cold war russia, as colorfully clad men and women walk around as if an anime character, as the life that was unimagineable has become a drama worth writing a play script for.

life indeed has become stranger than fiction.

Deadly Philippine politics

i was reading the inquirer online and two of the breaking news are failed assassination attempts on political candidates. why is it so important to be in political power for some people that they're willing to literally eliminate the competition?

i don't get it! where is democracy? maybe i'm deluded and have an idealistic picture of philippine politics. but i'm just hoping that it will stop. that political killings will stop. that extrajudicial killings would stop. that dissent be tolerated. and maybe people would learn to let go of their positions when their time is up.

some want political offices because they want the opportunities for corruption built-in to it. some just like power. others really want to make a difference but are strangled by a rigid and corrupt environment. it seems like a vicious cycle.

miriam defensor who claims to have won the 1992 elections was made to look crazy for doing so. the opposition is painted in bad light when it doesn't suit the powers that be. i saw her on tfc the other day and she was being interviewed about pork barrel and how political office becomes a lucrative campaign fund-raising mechanism or just simply a source of corruption if the politician is not honest enough. she explained the allowances of the representatives and the ways that they can rechannel money into their pockets, i.e. cutting operational costs by hiring less staff.

it's interesting how philippine politics has become a mere popularity contest with actors running in the race for senators. i have nothing against actors but at least they should have some experience. cesar montano was in a debate with another senatorial hopeful and he was asked by the moderator what experience he had that qualified him to run for office. he said and i'm paraphrasing "we actors when we play poor roles, go to the impoverished places and see the poverty there". i don't count that as qualifying experience to run for office. a lot of politicians have gone to the slums but nothing has changed. internalizing your role as an actor does not make for a good politician. would it mean that he's just "acting" as a senator?

in the senate, we need people of substance. people that can really make a difference and are not afraid to make a stand on what they believe in. what is this "plant pichay in the senate". i don't know how far you can get with a campaign like that except for a laugh in the face with the play on words for a vegetable to be planted in the senate. i hardly find it funny. whoever came up with that campaign will surely make pichay the laughingstock of the senate.

i feel such frustration but i remain hopeful. some day, there will be people that will set aside their own agendas for the betterment of the philippines. the partylist system was supposed to empower the marginalized sectors of society. it has become another avenue of political dynasties with politicians creating their own partylists to ensure that they remain in power. it might not be at the forefront but surely they are the puppet masters in the background.

i hope the political killings will stop. i hope that there will be a fraud-free election. i hope many things for the philippines. some day, i know it will come true. i believe there is hope and we can all work towards that ideal.

God bless the Philippines.

my Brother, the LAWYER

Yehey!!! The wait has ended ... The results are final and absolute! My brother, Salvador "Buddy" Escalante has passed the BAR! He is No. 661 on the list! He is a lawyer!

the countdown

everything boils down to time. how much time do you have for this? how much time do you have for that? time is an inevitable part of the equation at any stage of life - or death.

in a few weeks, my mom will finally leave switzerland. it will be the fulfilment of my dream to stand alone, be independent. be away from parental guidance. be myself. my mom has never been strict with me. she's not very hard on me at all. and with her leaving, i will miss every little fight we had, the endless conversations that are picked up in the morning in case sleep got in the way. i feel scared. but i know it's part of growing up.

i won't have my sounding board so close at hand. i won't have my kakulitan. no one will understand me the way she does. she's the only one that laughs at all my jokes. we have the same sense of humour. i feel sad. now, i have to contend with time differences. i hope that i will be able to make it. i get terribly homesick. i hope that i can manage the time that i will be away from my family. tita minda will be left with me but it won't be the same as having a full house. even with just christopher, my youngest brother, here it's enough to make the house as raucous. now, i have to contend with silence and a limited space where tita and i can see each other's every move. i have to get a new phone line. i have to apply for cable. i have to do everything. it wouldn't be such a burden if everything was done in english. but there's also a language barrier. i still haven't improved my french!

but time ... time winds down at the most crucial of moments. it seems to tick faster at the time you want more of it. and it seems to prolong every second when you want it to be quicker. time. the invaluable part of the equation.

***

MY BROTHER'S LAW BAR EXAM .... waiting ...

A certain degree of callousness

Moving around has many implications. One is the welcoming hellos but the more painful one is the many goodbyes.

Saying goodbye requires a certain degree of callousness of heart that enables a person to just be able to strike up a friendship without weeping at parting. It allows a person to go on to the next part of the journey invariably intact.

Goodbyes have the tendency to break the heart and wet the eyes as it wells ups with tears with the thought of imminent separation or departure.

A certain degree of callousness is required when you leave the people you love. Just enough to dull the pain or to keep one from suffering from breaking apart or being apart.

Just how much callous must one envelop his or her heart with so that contact will be cherished but removal won't be searing?

Just a certain degree, enough to let go when the time comes to say goodbye.

First snow fall in Geneva.

Pain – a catalyst of change

How much pain can we endure before we say “enough is enough?” How much suffering must one withstand before saying “No”? How much pain must one go through before doing something about it?

It’s an epiphany of sorts for me to finally realize that with enough pain and suffering, we are forced to change. If we bask in the pain, we either turn numb or become insensitive. We lose sight of the lesson behind the pain. Pain is not necessarily a bad thing.

I am no masochist or a big fan of inflicting pain on myself. I am also not a sadist to want to wish or give pain to others. But pain, at the most unexpected of moments from the most unexpected of people come like a thief in the night - the surprise of it makes it even more hurtful. But it happens.

I believe that everything happens for a reason and even pain is sometimes a tool or a catalyst of change. It speeds up decisions that we were too afraid to make. It puts things in perspective. Just like being burned at touching a stove, we are less likely to do the same things which wrought pain upon us. It gives us parameters. It helps us make a better life.

At the turn of this year, a new year is promised at dawn. It’s a time for change. Looking back at the years I have spent here, looking back at the pain I’ve felt all these years, if I never felt them, I would have never moved on.

Perhaps, if my boss didn’t make me feel like shit, I would have never found my new job. Perhaps, if I wasn’t hurt early on in life, I wouldn’t have been as strong as I am now. But that’s also because of God’s help. He is always a factor. But pain, if isolated in its purpose is analyzed, could’ve been the saving grace of many lives.

A happy person is usually a contented person. Not willing to move. Unwilling to change. I don’t think pain is a good thing. I think the absence of it is great but the reality of life is full of pain. One must face it. And for me, a good way of looking at pain is its potency and its potential for change.

Memories

New poem, inspired by my bubble keeper's recent musical composition. Thanks BK!

I SEE YOU EVERYWHERE
BUT YOU ARE GONE

HOW CAN I SAY I LOVE YOU
WHEN YOU'VE LEFT ME BEHIND

I'M LEFT WITH NOTHING BUT MEMORIES

MEMORIES

MEMORIES PAST, MEMORIES OF OLD
GOOD MEMORIES WITHOUT A FUTURE

HOW CAN I MOVE ON?

YOU LEFT SO SUDDENLY,
I ONLY HAVE THE WIND TO HEAR
HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU

WHY DID YOU GO,
WHAT DID I DO?
IT WAS TOO SOON,
YOU TOOK MY HEART WITH YOU.

Anger seeps from my veins

It flows through every capillary

I AM IMMOBILIZED WITH WRATH

Red from unCertainty

Ex-Files

It was a late night out ... The usual Friday gimmick with friends. Before it an empowering and enlightening SFC teaching by Des at Tito Oca's house.

Aimee dropped me off near Manor so I can go to Café Bizarre. Saw Christa, Faryal, Aries, Jazu and Haider. We left the café after an hour or so. They had been there for quite a while. Christa needed to move her car before we all went to Le Phare.

It was a leisure walk among friends.

Then ...

I walked into Le Phare. There were no seats nearby. We saw our friend Salim and said our hellos. Then we walked on ... stop ... she was there. My dreaded ex. The ex I had been avoiding and hoping not to meet. But Geneva is small. But I didn't know she'd be back from England doing her masters. But she was. Stop. "Hi. How are you?" she said. I said, "I'm ok." Cut. I grabbed some seats and grabbed Christa, "My ex is there." "Where?" she said, "give me some indication, 12 o'clock, 6 o'clock". "There," I said, "in the corner, 12 o'clock". I don't know the exact words that followed but as my friends knew, they started comforting me. Christa hugged me and kept close all night making sure to keep me company. Same with Jazu, Aries and Faryal.

I felt so weak in the knees. I felt like vomiting. I felt sick. I didn't know she still had that effect on me. I was thrown back in a time warp ... dry mouth ... uncertainty ... fear.

We kept a civil hi, didn't talk to each other except to say goodbye. She wished me a good night. I just smiled.

When I got home, I cried my eyes out, slept at 5 a.m. and turned the events round and round ... why didn't I wish her Happy Rosh Hoshana. Afterall, it was their new year. But I was stymied.

I prayed and I cried. I had just asked Des how to let go. Then came this. An unexpected meeting with my ex.

Good thing I was surrounded by friends and I was at my top form. I looked pretty Jazu said. At least, I had something to show. But I didn't need to care. It was a long time ago. A year and a half to be exact.

I have always been on good terms wit my exes. I don't know why we ended like this.

Certainly unexpected

I had the most wonderful birthday anyone could ever wish for. I turned 26 today (Sept. 8) and I spent my eve with the family and friends I have here in Geneva. I thought they would never be able to pull it off. After all, I was always on top of things. I had bionic ears and hardly anything could ever pass me without being noticed. But they were so good. Under the leadership of my mom, Aries and Jazu, they pulled off what I thought was unimaginable. From the KIS group, Roland, Ate Mercy, Kuya Ramil, and Diane were there on that eve of Sept. 8. Faryal and new friend, Christa, was also part of the surprise. Nikki, my oldest friend here, was also part of the scheme. Tito Roque, Ate Virgie, Ate Julie, Tita Minda, pitched in. Haritz made their appearance. Christopher went home on time.

My heart could have exploded from the adrenalin the surprise produced. It was certainly unexpected. I am so blessed to have good friends.

On my birthday proper, Faryal, Melissa, Christa and Jamie made it even more special. Taking me out on the town, in our dressed-to-kill wear, we danced ourselves out at Pickwicks where Melissa threw out her knee. Faryal was ever cool and Christa ever so friendly.

It was a very blessed 26th birthday. I went to Mass twice. I am crying from sheer happiness. I never expected it all. Thank you God for all the blessings and friends and family that think of me so dear. I am really happy. I still can't sleep from all these happiness.

Thank you all.

Au revoir mon frère

At exactly 9.25 a.m. my brother will board a KLM flight bound for Manila. The litany of goodbyes will begin shortly before it. Gallons of tears would have fallen and the familiar goodbye will be said stabbing our hearts like it did when at the age of one he was also sent home to the Philippines.

It is the same situation now. It is for his future that he has been sent home. It is because he will have a better life there. And we will be watching him in pain as he leaves. We hope he will study well and find his dream – whatever it may be. We hope in the company of his elder brothers, he will become a better gentleman.

Our family has been apart more times than the common parting. It is not just weeks of vacation but of years of separation that plague our lives. It is for our own good. It is Gorby’s turn to go home for his future. He makes the trip alone, literally and figuratively, but knowing him, he would have made many friends on this flight home. He is called “congressman” here.

He is just that – a congenial young man, full of ideas with a bright future ahead. Exceptional and unique in his own right.

As the tears flow from its cask, a new leaf will be turned.

I will find my brother - a man - on our next meeting.

I will miss him. We will all miss him.

Au revoir mon frère. May God always be with you as you start a new chapter in your life. I love you. See you soon.

Imminent death

What would you do if you knew you were dying? What would you do if someone close to you is ill and you don't know if s/he will die? Would you talk to him or her even in their sleep? Would you give up all hope? Would you just sit there for death to claim him or her?

Isabel Allende's Paula speaks of such an experience. At the bedside of her daughter suffering from an illness that put her in a coma, Isable writes her autobiography, the story of her life and Paula's life and traces back their lineage so that Paula will remember when she wakes up.

I haven't finished the book but my colleague said Paula dies.

What happens to the book? How could a mother feel when her daughter dies?

Culmination of disappointment ...

Or blessing?

I received my answer last Friday. The Cantonal Office will not give my return visa unless my boss or personnel gives me a certification that I will have a new contract when I come back. "IN THEORY" is a word often used in the UN, so in theory, I am going to have a contract when I come back from vacation but nobody wants to sign the paper saying that I will have it. I don't get the logic. How hard is it to sign a piece of paper that says I worked from this and that period and will work again from this period to that period. It sounds elementary to me. ILO did it for me, I don't understand why the UN is so uptight. UNCTAD does it. So, what gives?

That same day, that Friday when a friend of mine from Milan was about to come for a visit, the long-awaited feared answer reached my ears. I remained numb or maybe I was just too jaded. Then later that Friday afternoon, from out of the blue, a colleague of mine from the ILO calls to ask would I come back if they would offer me a fixed-term contract. I said, "Of course!" That is my long-term goal after all. I cried from excitement and from a sheer overwhelming feeling. God was there. Then came the worry. What shall I tell UN who's expecting me back and my colleagues who I have come to appreciate? I didn't know how I could possibly smile when I met Joy. Good thing Nikki was with me to absorb some of my worry. In the end, the three of us shared a wonderful meal at Al-Ameer. The worry dissipated until Monday came.

Joy left on Monday morning. I was going to tell my supervisor about ILO's offer. I had to give ILO an answer. Work was piling up. I had a hangover from my coffee. Didn't sleep a wink. A bad aftertaste of Jazu's outburst. But it would soon come to an end.

Joy left, I felt sad. I told my supervisor, she wasn't pleased. She spoke to the personnel assistant which will try to extend my contract. I feel like I'm in a tug of war. My hangover was almost gone but left me breathless. My eyes were falling at every word. Jazu's outburst seemed like a distant memory.

Monday came to a close. Another workday completed. I have until the weekend to give an answer to ILO. I am pondering whether my not being able to go home at this time is a blessing. I have savings at least. I will probably go to Milan without a visa and spend my holiday with Joy. What am I supposed to learn from this experience?

A rollercoaster of yeses and nos. Of would'ves and could'ves. But now, the answers slowly come: No to Philippines, Yes to Vacation, No to Certification, Probably No to ILO, Yes to Prayers, No to bitterness ...

I am tempted to be very bitter. To wallow in the self-pity of my not being able to leave Switzerland. My household sister being stopped at the border because she didn't have papers. I felt like that.

I felt like a nobody, a nobody that no one wants to guarantee with a piece of paper that says I am working again with the UN, ILO or wherever.

Maybe there is something I am not seeing. Am I to feel the whole range of emotions that an OFW must feel? Is this a test ... is there a silver lining to this storm?

Perhaps ... it is a blessing in disguise.

Feeling OFW (the saga continues)

I don’t remember who told me to call the Swiss mission but it sure was good advice. I called but didn’t get an answer so I asked my mom to phone them. Fortunately, she got a hold of the person concerned, Ms. G.

I had given up all hope of going home but made a bargain with God. I promised him that if he would let me go home without any trouble or damage to my work, I would give up a certain part of my life. This was also a test whether God existed. I believe in Him that’s why I made the bargain.

So, the Swiss mission said that there was another possibility. For my chief to sign the letter stating that I would be getting a new contract when I come back. This was the original letter that I requested which my boss didn’t want to sign because in her words and quoting her boss “if personnel won’t do it, then you shouldn’t do it”.

It was a very safe answer which removed all responsibility from her hands. It left me disappointed but I was so numb that I hardly reacted.

My mom got an answer and asks me to call the Swiss mission. I call them. They tell me to make personnel call them. Personnel calls them. I call personnel to follow up. Personnel says that the chief can sign but that personnel will not give any attestation. The personnel assistant comes up to the chief’s office whilst me in it. We talk. "I better not get sacked for this," she says. I say, "it's only a formality." The chief drafts the letter but has to call the Swiss mission first. She talks to the Swiss mission. She faxes the letter. I get a call from the chief. Call the Swiss mission on Monday she says.

I wait.

Feeling OFW (part 2)

As if working for my family was not enough responsibility and a source of heartache, my working abroad has been plagued by visa restrictions. I just spoke to my boss and she said that personnel would not issue a certificate allowing me to obtain a return visa from the cantonal (municipal) administration here.
I took the news with a smiling face. I did not know how else to react to such grave news. I feel quite jaded now.

I have been in Geneva for a year and a half without going home. I know it’s not as long as 25 years or even as short as some people’s five years, but it is grave for me whose longest time out is usually eight months and then going back home to recharge.

I still feel calm now and no tears have fallen. I think I’ve cried it out in the previous days and my sleepless nights were premonitions of my imminent disappointment.
I can bitch all I want now but I think it will be a waste of my time and energy.
It is difficult when people depend on you and you are not free to make decisions that only suit your happiness. My family’s finances are hinged on my working abroad. Some of my friends are working abroad too but they like what they are doing. I might be a little impatient but I do like what I’m doing here, I just want to be able to go home. And even that I am not granted.

If I leave for my vacation, there is no guarantee that I can come back. Not even my mom’s diplomatic status can help me because I am independent of her in the eyes of Swiss laws.

What do I do?

Anger Management

Do you ever find yourself just blowing up at anything that triggers your anger? It's a cumulation of angst and anger and then that one little thing breaks the camel's back.

I succumbed to that. I feel so sorry and feel like I've sunk to the lowest depths.

My brother's friends come over at 10:30 p.m. It's late by Geneva standards. It would have been alright if they had called first or rang the bell respectfully and didn't scream at my brother from the other end. All that I heard as my brother came to the speaker phone.

So, I decided not to take it lying down this time. I had been quite angry with this "friend" for a while now. He was very rude and I had just been keeping it civil. But I had enough. I waited for them at the door and greeted them with a resounding "why did you scream at the speaker phone?" He adamantly denied it but I felt myself rising at the sound of his voice and his rude way of talking. I walked away.

Then my brother makes an excuse for my behavior saying that I had had a row with my mother and that I was taking it out on them. I felt like I've been sold out by my brother. It wasn't entirely untrue that I had had some discussion with my mother but it certainly wasn't the cause of my newfound anger. It was because my brother's friend had been so rude.

So, I butt in saying that I wasn't angry at my mother but at them for screaming at the speaker phone. The friend reasoned out which made me even angrier. I told him to not answer back. He said, "Why shouldn't I, if I'm in the right?" At this point I was on the verge of crying from anger and he decided to walk off. Good thing.

But it left me feeling bad that I had stooped so low as to go down to his level of rudeness. I was out of place to accuse him that maybe my younger brother had acquired that same rude behavior from him. He was my main suspect. He denied spending time with my brother. Then shortly, walked into the elevator.

As they left and as I heard their voices downstairs from our open windows, I felt a surge of guilt at my behavior. I should have known better to be calmer and to get my point across without seething anger.

An angry person loses much credibility unless it's righteous anger. Mine was nowhere near righteous. It was just plain old boiling blood anger. And I am sorry for having let myself be poisoned by it.

Tomorrow night, hopefully, we will make amends as my mother had to call a meeting so that we could all clear the air. I hope it goes well. I don't ever want to have a repeat of tonight's Mount Vesuvius eruption. It's definitely not a pretty sight.

Responsibilities

Responsibilities

The saying goes “To whom much is given, much is expected”. As people discover you can do many things, they expect more from you, extracting every bit of your talent. Some people rise to the challenge, others prefer to keep their talents hidden and far far away from prying eyes who might someday want to exploit them.

I have some talents, or so my mother says. I am constantly getting myself unintentionally involved in this and that project by happenstance. I don’t usually complain when I like what I’m doing.

Recently, I was invited to help out in a farewell project for our long-time parish priest. I didn’t know how I could be of help but I suspected I would be doing the computer stuff and much to my un-surprise, I did.

The people are pleased with what I’ve done with the layout of pictures and texts. I find it quite simple. Of course, to them it probably looks difficult. But it really isn’t. I feel like a newbie in front of techie greats or the proven tech-savvy.

What I’m trying to say is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of building their expectations and then letting them down. In my younger years, I was very self-confident. I always knew the extent of what I can and can’t do. I put my foot down for things I knew were not my expertise. I was adamant in saying NO.

As I entered linguistics in college, I thought this must be easy sailing. I had always excelled in school so I thought, piece of cake. When I got my first almost-failing grade, I was on the brink of a nervous breakdown. I didn’t know what to do. I eventually got the hang of the subject but I decided to shift to journalism. There I was initially getting good marks, acing the homework, then all of a sudden, I got a failing mark on one of my articles. I was utterly crushed. I remember being randomly asked, “How are you?” by a classmate of mine and I broke down right there and then at the walk between the College of Social Science and Philosophy and the Faculty Center. She must have thought me mad. But it was the start of the incessant self-doubt and decreasing self-confidence. I didn’t know what I was really good at. I seemed to get good grades by sheer effort. I wasn’t as smart as everybody portrayed me to be. I felt like a cheater letting them think it.

But I guess at some point, God must have put something there in my head. I did know what I was doing. I got by even if I had no idea how to go about what I was supposed to do. It all worked out. It always worked out. But I was always afraid. I woke up late in the mornings. I became complacent. I lost my edge.

Now, I am here at a job that expects only excellence because it is simple enough. You have to be in on time so no late nights or sleep-ins. But despite my rigid schedule now, I still feel doubtful about my other responsibilities. As I complete each task, each activity, if I come out slightly triumphant, I am expected to do it again, even better next time.

All this thinking began because I did a good layout for the church and I was praised for it. I wonder how I would feel if my boss at work actually praised me. I would probably cry.

"What a waste"

Not a lot of people have openly expressed disappointment about what I'm doing right now. It's not to say they don't like it, they just think it's a waste of my talents. It's the first time I actually heard it out loud. She said "what a waste" when I told her I worked in the English typing pool at the UN. As if it wasn't bad enough that I've been feeling frustrated the past few days because I know that I could really be doing something more suited to my skills. But I have no choice at the moment. I haven't had proper time to look for other jobs and I can't afford to take time off so I can look for one. It's one thing chained to another thing and it becomes a vicious cycle of cannots.

I just hope I can get out of this rut soon. I look at where my batchmates are right now and I compare myself, which I shouldn't do. Everyone is different and we make different choices. Right now, I still don't know what I want to do in life. Five years ago, I was so sure. I planned to finish my master's degree and I was going to be some big shot somewhere. Well, I didn't know exactly where but I was going to be.

I'm at the UN now with a clerical job. Some people would say it's a real blessing. It is of course and the pay is not bad. But there is still something missing. As I go through the tedious task of encoding corrections after corrections from the translators, I am inclined to think - can I do better? Shouldn't I be doing something more?

I guess I compensate with all the extracurricular activities that I do. But it still doesn't feel right. Maybe I'm just complaining. But I really hope that something will come of my life soon. Something I can truly say I love to do. Something I can do for the rest of my life.

When in Milan, do as the Milanons do???

I was in Italy again during the Holy Week vacation. The last time I was there, I was in Rome. I loved it then and I still love Italy now. I love the people, I love the culture, I love the sun! and P.S. I love the shopping!!!

We left on Maundy Thursday at about 9 p.m. because Jazu was still working overtime. We were going to travel through the Mont Blanc tunnel with Tito Roque. There was a little nervousness at the border because my Schengen visa was about to expire but I needed to get out of Switzerland. Even if just for a while.

So, we found ourselves over the mountain (and through the woods???) and spent our first day in Italy in Como, the beautiful lakeside city where the famous George Clooney owns a mansion and WHERE the golden couple of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are supposed to wed. We didn't go to Bellagio but we did take a small tour through the monuments in Como. We even went up on the FUNICOLARE, the cable car that brings you on top of the Como hills that overlook Lake Como and the surrounding commune.



Being on top of the Como hills is breathtaking and looking down on the commune below made for a few fashion photo ops [will probably upload pics to my photoblog].






When we got down, we rested a bit and went to Milan via the interregional train. And voila! Forty-five minutes later we were in Milan Centrale and making our way to the Duomo where the Pinoy movie "Milan" had Piolo Pascual and Claudine Barretto feeding the pigeons.




Saturday was market day and the "mercato" for clothes were packed with tourists and local people buying the bargain wares ranging from the latest fashion trends to matching leather goods, etc.

Since Saturday was the only day to buy, I spent the whole afternoon in the mercato. Rain couldn't stop my shopping spree. Jazu had gone on to Rome to be with her friend Princess.

Sunday was a holy day. It was the "Pasko ng Pagkabuhay" (Easter Sunday) and Tito Roque and family including my godchild RR (Roque Robert) and of course, me, went to Caravaggio where the water fountain is said to be miraculous.




That same night, I was Geneva-bound. It was the longest four hours of my life. Traveling in facing seats with strangers can be a bit uncomfortable especially if your seatmate's boyfriend's foot was touching your pants! And it had a certain odor to it. A little respect for your travel companions pls! The lady in front of me was also anxious and tried to smile but just couldn't. I was praying for the couple to get off at any stop now, thank God they got off in Lausanne. I had 30 minutes of peace with the silent lady in front of me.

All in all, the trip was fabulouso! I can't wait to go back to Milan to visit Joy, our newfound friend who is just "dying" to see us. :) Hope you'll read this Joy! Mwah Bella!



(Photos by Jazu and Me)

I'm Moving!

Hello everyone. I changed my URL address to http://thewandererstales.blogspot.com . See you there.

“Bayaran”

When I took up journalism ethics in college, we tackled envelopmental journalism. It’s the type of journalism that “pays” journalists so they will write stories favoring a certain entity, be it a person, a company, etc.

I thought, it’s easy to give back the envelop, it’s easy to decline. It’s easy to stand on that moral high ground with the thought: ME? I WILL NEVER DO THAT. Boy, was I wrong! I had my first taste of this last Sunday. I was covering a church event. It was the anniversary of one of the Catholic Church groups here in Switzerland and they had a national conference to celebrate it.

The lady said she had something for me earlier on. She said thank you for my earlier coverage of a meeting that took place in Geneva. I was only doing my job. I covered it. I didn’t really pay attention as to what that that “something” was. But I had a feeling it would be money.

She dragged me around the conference venue and had me interview every big honcho there was. She was apologizing and prodding me at the same time. At the end of the conference, she came up to me with a folded amount of money. It was only one bill but it was big enough. I refused many times. She said, “No, no, it’s yours.” I couldn’t say outright, “It’s unethical. I’m only doing my job.” I could definitely not say “Hindi ako bayaran” (I am not paid). It would be rude. I didn’t know how to get out of it without hurting her. So, I accepted with every bad feeling in my heart and decided I would give it to charity. I will not use it for any personal gain.

She was a nice lady just thinking of my welfare. But it’s not right. Every journalist will face this dilemma in his or her life. It is a real temptation when the amount gets bigger and bigger and come Christmas time, you’re overflowing with gifts. It’s even more difficult when you are in dire need of money. I hope that journalists everywhere will continue to report faithfully, true “uncoloured” events, without money or without any gifts, because it is our job to report the truth and only that. It’s something we can be proud of.

OPMs

I was listening to 101.1, a local radio station in the Philippines, over the Internet. It was playing Original Pilipino Music (OPMs), old songs from my youth, including the OST of The Never Ending Story. I had this sudden urge to write after hearing a soulful rendition by what I suspect was Jessa Zaragoza doing a Sharon revival.

It is very funny to feel so moved by something usually taken for granted because you hear it all the time in your home country. And the association with OPMs is it blaring from the speakers, while stuck in traffic in a crowded jeepney, in a very polluted street, at the very dark of night.

Being abroad usually makes the familiar in an unfamiliar place such a welcome experience. For example, hearing the Top 40 in the Philippines even when you’re thousands of miles away or hearing OPMs that you grew up with and were already alive in your grandfather’s time.

So many things change when you are far away from the place you call home. Any little reminder of it becomes such a big deal and sometimes it moves you to tears. This time it brought a big smile to my face as I was reading The Alchemist, a book by Paulo Coelho, speaking of dreams; the radio was playing in the background and had already rendered “Ikaw ang lahat sa akin”, I’m not really sure what the title is and some song revival by Olgie Alcasid.

For many OFWs, April Boy Regino is a real idol. I heard him in Abu Dhabi in the United Arab Emirates before his X-forming “Di ko kayang tanggapin” days. I was totally amazed. I almost cried!

It is when you take yourself from what you know, from what you grew up with, from things you take for granted, that you realize what they meant for you. They were home.

Being a wanderer though, it’s hard to call one place home - but for me, I really found it in the Philippines. I could identify with the place, I could identify with the culture. I realized it was me. A part of the Philippines had traveled with me to all the places I went to. I left a little part of the country in everywhere I went as I took a little part of my host country to the Philippines. And I will continue to bring a little piece of the Philippines to wherever I go. And I’m glad that I can hear OPMs a thousand miles away from home.

Bubble Keeper

Life deals the biggest blows sometimes. Some blows are harder than most and breaks that little protective bubble that you keep around yourself.

Wouldn't it be nice to have someone outside of your bubble, a friend but more than just a friend, actually a protector of bubbles of some kind, perhaps – a BUBBLE KEEPER.

Yeah, I got me one of those! A little in-house therapist of sorts. We are actually each other's bubble keeper. I tell my bubble keeper my daily happenings and what life's bitch has dealt me and i listen in turn to my keeper's frustrations. And since we're both outside of each other's regular bubble, we can see when there's going to be a danger to the bubble. And we can be objective enough and physically distanced enough to be effective bubble keepers.

We don't move in the same circles, thus we cannot be readily identifiable as friends. We are not linked in society's eyes yet we are bonded by our little secret mission of bubble keeping.

Sometimes, one's bubble can get a bit claustrophobic too. It's nice to have someone from the outside explain or look at things from a higher plane. I am thankful for our meeting and being able to keep in each other's lives as protectors.

For my bubble keeper, here is your ODE!

“Islam: What Catholics Need to Know” by Father Elias D. Mallon

This was the topic yesterday night at the New Directions Speaker Series held at the Holy Trinity Anglican Church. It was the first time I attended a New Directions talk since it started last year. The organizers invite people to speak about different topics which are relevant to the times and to our religion, Roman Catholicism. New Directions is based in the John XXIII Parish Centre in Geneva.

I was surprised to see so many people cramped into the social hall of Holy Trinity. So many people were interested in the topic especially in the light of 9/11 and how we perceive Muslims and condemn Islam for breeding terrorist and fundamentalists. I am not one of them but this is an increasing world view.

We were fortunate to have Father Elias himself give the talk. He first cited the important dates in Roman Catholic history and Islamic dates of importance. He spoke about the Crusades and the Ottoman Empire. He spoke about how both religions conveniently forget their past of being aggressors and play the victim role and justify their perceptions now. He said that playing the victim creates a self-righteous perception of one’s self.

He said that what is important in inter-faith dialogue is DATA, PERCEPTION and EXPERIENCE. Before we accuse someone of being something, we should have data on the ground to support our claim. We should make sure that our perceptions match each other so that we are not confused by misconceptions. And that in the event we can get past our perceptions, we should strive to experience one another in dialogue or as Fr. Elias said, to engage our neighbour, Muslim, Jew, etc.

It was a very important talk not just in perceiving Muslims in particular but salient in perceiving people who are different from us in general. We tend to say “I don’t like him/her … just because … there is something about him/her.” This might be the beginning of a long misplaced hatred.

In dialogue, we should also not try to point out each other’s fault. Fr. Elias said we should talk from our best positions. What is best in both of us and move from there. The goal is not to convert anyone to his or her way of thinking but to understand where each is coming from and to discover what makes one a Christian and the other Muslim.

It is in this recognition that we begin to experience each other not based on just perceptions but based on what is intrinsically true.

The various inter-faith conflicts were discussed in the talk and how conveniently the aggressor forgets his previous faults and how the victims have long memories. He pointed out Pope John Paul II’s visit to Greece and if he would apologize for what the Crusaders did 800 years ago. Who can even remember? But the Pope did apologize.

In Islamic countries now, the word “crusader” is still very much alive. They have not forgotten the faith-driven war waged on the world. And having the principle of “God wills it”, when they win a war it means God is with them. The loser becomes humiliated.

But this is not the case now. We know this is not true. We have to correct our perceptions based on data so that when we experience someone, we are not talking from a misplaced and often erroneous perspective.

“Islam: What Catholics Need to Know” by Father Elias D. Mallon is one of several new publications that will be officially premiered at the NCEA convention in Atlanta on April 18-21. www.ncea.org

alzheimers, traveling ...

alzheimer’s

i hate forgetting. this was one of the reasons i cannot live without an organizer or a planner or just a simple tickler of a notebook. i find it hard to accept the fact that i can forget things. but i know it happens.

but it’s happening more recently these days. it is so disturbing that i’m just thinking of one thing a few seconds earlier and take an action to support it and then all of a sudden, i forget what i was about to do. i just stare for a moment and try to press that rewind button in my head. why am i in this room again? what was i about to get? and the perennial - where are my glasses???

is it a sign? maybe my brain cells are slowly dying with no hope of regenerating. i think i’m nearing that age when my brain cells have become non-renewable resources. maybe it’s all that smoke and alcohol! no, i haven’t started smoking. almost every gimik place here is smoke-filled, so we are not spared. alcohol – i had a few. i hope that hasn’t contributed to my ailing memory.

i remember one of 50 first dates’ patients, ten-second tom or bob is it? i can’t even remember.

***

i haven’t done a lot of travelling lately. traveling is one of the reason’s why i named this blog wanderer’s tale. i move too much. but for almost two years now, i have been in one country. the first year i was able to go visit my country. the first part of the second year, i was able to go to rome. i loved it. and i wrote about it here.

in a week, we are supposedly going to paris. i’ve never been to paris. the closest thing to france that i’ve gone is crossing the border to do the groceries (that was when i still had a visa) and to visit people in nearby france.

actually, i have been a little bit remiss about traveling lately. i like staying in one place and i can’t be bothered to make long distance trips. i get agitated easily when i know i’m traveling for long periods of time.

but i do love it. it’s just that i’m not in the mood right now.

i think i’m starting to grow temporary roots. but then again, if i was a plant, i would be a water plant. the ones that grow roots and can stay up to catch the light but can easily uproot (is this even possible when you just pull it from water?) and be put in another vase.

my life can be a bit boring sometimes but my friends always find it exciting. it’s either i’m traveling or meeting new people or doing both. it's part of the wanderer's tale.

First day of spring

siguro kapag nasa four-season place na-aapreciate at nagagalak ka sa kada change ng weather at season. wala na nga ibang pinag-uusapan halos kundi ang weather. kamusta sa labas, ano dapat isuot ... at kung anu-ano pa.

today is the first day of spring. medyo hindi gaano kalamig at hindi na kailangan mag-gloves sa labas. nakakahinga ka na rin without freezing your breath in mid-air. brain freeze ang labas mo nyan!

anyways, happy ako kasi magaling na rin ako sa sakit ko. isang linggo din akong plastado at depressed sa bahay dahil sa sinus infection-slash-throat infection with various complications.

masarap ang simoy ng hangin. kainis lang yung naninigarilyo habang humihinga ako. binigyan ko ng tingin yung naninigarilyo. hmmmph!

ang saya ... ilang araw na lang, spring jacket na rin ang suot namin. pwede ng mag-skirt at magshorts at wala na ring leggings na suot. it's a liberating feeling.

sana summer na. :D

is love a commitment? or what?

Buboyliit: let the commitment find their own love
Buboyliit: or let the love find its own commitment

I was talking to my friend, Parengchris aka Buboy Liit, last night. It might be a bit late for Valentine’s Day but love is never a seasonal subject, it’s the all-around topic.

So, is love a commitment?

It’s a difficult question. A friend said that being stupid is one of the prerequisite of being “in love” coz love makes you stupid. So, let us discuss the question again posed by buboy. So is being stupid a premise of love?

Before we tackle that, we have to define love. It is one of the vaguest words in the dictionary. It can be described as a “strong feeling”, “God” as in “God is love”, etc. What does being “in love” mean? Do we actually know what it means? Is it just a feeling we feel when we see someone we like for a long time? There goes my crush, “I love him” or “her”! Is that love?

Some of our ancestors married without love yet they eventually “learned” to love each other. So is love learned? Or do you just “feel” it? Or is it a commitment?

Last year, I was talking to Michelle, another friend, and she said, “feelings change all the time, we will always find someone better but we choose to love who we love because love is a commitment”. So love entails choosing someone. And we when we love, we choose to care for another human being and staying true them and “committed” to them no matter what.

Commitments are not always full of love but they can be. Think of mathematical subsets. Love is a commitment but commitment is not necessarily love. While the first subset still belongs to commitment, the second subset is not necessarily part of the same set. Confusing? Love is.

So, if love is not just a feeling but entails commitment. Commitment is not necessarily love-filled but could be, depending on the situation and the cause of the commitment. Things evolve all the time. Commitment can be love but love is always a commitment. Can love find itself committeed? Definitely! Parengchris, I hope I found the answer for you.

feeling OFW

nagegets ko na ang mga nararamdaman ng mga OFW sa ibang bansa. kung bakit ang tamis ng bawat tungtong sa lupang sinilangan at kay pait ng bawat alis.

wala talagang kapantay ang buhay sa atin. nafIfeel ko na rin kung gaano kahirap ang mabuhay sa ibang bansa. kung gaano kahirap ang mawalay sa pamilya na hindi mo alam kung kelan mo ulit makikita. nakakaloka, nakakapagpakapit sa patalim.

mayroon ng higit isang taon ako dito sa switzerland na hindi na kakauwi sa pinas. pero meron pang mas malala sa akin, mayroon dyang limang taon, sampung taon, maging dalawampu't limang taon ng hindi nakakauwi sa atin para lang makatulong sa pamilya.

ang iba, mga ina na hindi na naaruga ang mga anak. iba naman, nalipasan na ng pag-ibig at iniwanan na ng mga kabiyak. maraming lalaking nangulila at nagkaroon ng pangalawang asawa dito.

ang hirap ng hindi mo alam kung kelan ka ulit makakauwi. kung hanggang kelan mo matitiis ang pag-iisa, ang pangungulila sa pamilya, ang pag-lilinis ng bahay na hindi naman sa iyo.

bakit nga ba? para kanino? hanggang kelan?

Walang kasiguraduhan.

Kaya naman parang piyesta ang bawat uwi ng isang ofw. Kasi hindi na alam kung kelan pa ulit makakabalik sa lupang tinubuan.

mental sanitation

JINGYAHOO: i mean, write to enjoy. write to "live" life. write to document life's greatest pleasures and greatest miseries.
PA: and she carried her pained expression upon the back of the keyboard
JINGYAHOO: if you get good money out of it, that's just a bonus
PA: she painted with the keys
PA: her wrinkles, her sorrows,
PA: her most intimate ecstasies ... darn i feel like an erotic writer!

some people and i mean me, have a tendency to put things in a certain sanitized, compartmentalized way. it's the oc-ness in me. (read "aviator's" obsessive compulsive disorder.)

my friend jing damaso (read JINGPREETI) pointed out how my writing seems "too perfect" sometimes, removing all emotions from my writing and replacing it with a certain mental sanitation that can be counted among the very white white of laundries. in other words, so clean, you can't see what's behind it.

so, from now on, i will write more boldly not keeping what other people will say in mind and let whatever i feel out! look, dirty laundry all around.

for the people that know me, dirt is one of my worst enemies. but dirt makes the antibodies work. without it, we can die of cleanliness. so, i'm self-administering myself to some enemies so i can be stronger and in the end, keep myself mentally sane.

for those that may react badly to my writing and get shocked by following entries, i warned you! the gloves are off.

I'm FAT

You read it ... F-A-T aka Fabulous at twenty-five. My favorite wanton coined this for me earlier in a chat conversation. I thought it was a good way of putting my added kilos in a better perspective. Thank you, 'ton. May you always be FAT. :D

Sudden inspiration

The past few days have been filled with some sort of poetic stimuli that have made me write down my random thoughts on everything from waiting in line to clocks, to nightmares and practically anything. I feel like a beaker of words that pour my poetry into whatever could hold it. I have recently run out of "tickler" space and will start a new one for my on-the-spot poems.

The following posts are some poems inspired by recent events.

Waiting

I stare into the blankness of the night,
As I wait in agony over my plight,
The HOURS seem to p-a-s-s,
WithOut moVemEnt,
WithOut unceRtainty,
What will become of mE?
In France's visa line???!!!

Provocation

Swallowed, not quite digested
I feel something stuck
Some sort of emotion
Without release,
Nor beginning, nor end
A wanting, something to say?

Something to realize,
something to feel
But I cannot place that thing,
what is it?

Love, infatuation, desire,
sadness, tears, tragedy,
The workings of my mind
Lodged in my throat
It won't go down
No ideological or emotional wine
Unmoving, uncertain
Yet placed to provoke.

Waking dream

In my waking dream
I move closer to you
I touch you

I caress your hair
I kiss you
I want to do a multitude

But in my waking hours
It seems impossible, almost unreal
Like a dream, did I dream it?

I do not feel the same fire or passion
I do not know you
But I think of you in my dream

Did I dream you?

(Inspired by Borges' "Nightmares" in Everything and Nothing, 1999.)

"Complication" by Erich Fried

(Translated from German by Stuart Hood)

To see you only once
then never again
must be easier
than to see you once more
and then never again

To see you once more
and then never again
must be easier
than to see you twice more
and then never again

To see you twice more
and then never again
must be easier than thrice more
and then never again

But I am stupid
and want to see you
often
before I can never see you
again.

"vengeance"

that's the name of the book that "munich" was filmed after. it's an endless cycle of violence. a want for the redress of the death of jewish compatriots who were killed at the hands of arab terrorists.

but where does it all end? one side kills off the other to avenge the death of another. it never ends. and children are born and hatred seems to be inborn. it is a repeated pattern of avenging a kin's death, avenging the death of a loved one, avenging the motherland.

when does it stop? when does violence stop? a phrase my mom uttered is "when the wars of the heart stops, then maybe there could be peace." hatred in the heart brings catastrophies. and "ideological promiscuouity" gives it light. the character louis says, "i get my emotions confused" speaking of hatred, anger, etc. from one ideology to another.

working in the UN system makes it seem utterly useless sometimes when people take matters into their own hands, when principle rules above law and vengeance becomes part of life.

then again, hendrik, a diplomat says, "it's better to fight with words than physically". but how far will words travel if the guns have already fired their shots and blood has been shed in the name of principle which doesn't recognize international treaties but seek to give justice to that spilled blood?

vengeance ... it echoes in the ears of the palestinians that want their land ... it echoes in the minds of the jews that protect israel and claim it for themselves ... it is in every palestinian refugee whose land has been taken away ... it screams in our hearts for every hurt which we've been dealt. so, when does it stop?

is peace really possible with vengeance in our hearts?

FEBRUARY NA ...

Nalalapit na ang Araw ng mga Pusa, este, Araw ng mga Puso. Magsisimula na ang mga bilihan ng kung anu-anumang regalo at ang pagpaplano kung paano na nga ba pasasagutin si Inday. :)

Sa 25 taon kung buhay, isang beses pa lang ako nakaranas na kasama ang aking "mahal" sa araw ng mga puso. Medyo overrated ang araw na ito pero kebs, go with the flow na lang kapag may special someone diba.

Kaya sa mga merong special someone dyan, cherish every moment and that includes V day.

Advanced Happy Valentines to all of you!