i remember my mom telling me that one of the judges at an oratorical contest i joined told her that i should have one that contest had i not forgotten my lines. i was 13 or maybe 14 at that time and was new to my school at pioneers in abu dhabi. teacher winnie was one of the teachers there and she was nice to me. and it so happened that she was the aunt of my future best friend cheng.
i always remembered teacher winnie as a smiling person, light to be around with and generally just nice. even after years and years of my departure from abu dhabi, i always remembered her kindness, her words of encouragement and what she told my mom. i remember her smiling in the park as we celebrated cheng's birthday. i think it was the first time i met cheng.
people like her are always embedded in my memory because she was someone who made you feel good about yourself.
when i read cheng's news that she had passed today, my chest was heavy. i couldn't breath. the news was so much of a shock. i tried to call cheng but i got her voice mail. i am so sorry that she was taken so soon and so young. she wasn't even 50.
i hope that wherever she is she is happy now. i hope that she will find rest in eternal life. i pray she is meeting God who made her so kind.
may teacher winnie rest in peace.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
remembering the Canal Hotel bombing in Baghdad
Today marks the fifth anniversary of the bombing where 22 UN workers were killed in the fatal bombing of the UN headquarters in Baghdad. One of them was a Filipina who was facially disfigured, initially declared dead but was barely alive when recovered from the rubble. Another was the head of the UN in Baghdad, Sergio de Mello. He had just replaced my former boss, Francis Dubois, as head and had Francis left two weeks later, it would have been him we were commemorating.
It's difficult to say when death will come knocking at your door. It's difficult to say in what manner you'll die. No matter how many times it's said, it's still best to live life as if everyday was your last.
I cherised many good memories in that building. I was telling my colleague that we used to play ping-pong every afternoon after work. My favorite player was Saad al-Asali. He was doing computational linguistics and I used to take linguistics and we could exchange our views on that while hitting away on the ball. There was a sort of camaraderie among the UN workers there and I'm sure like in every mission because a lot of us were far from our homes. Saad is Iraqi and he even came over to my house to play ping pong. I was very saddened to find out that he was badly hurt during the bombing. I met him in 2006 during the second anniversary and I met his family. He wasn't the same. He still had the same smile but he was hurting all over as the pieces of glass that shattered his body left him physically scarred.
It's sad to remember and it's even worse to see that Baghdad now lies in ruins. I can only blame the invasion because this may have never happened otherwise. I hope that Baghdad will soon rise again from the ashes as it always does in the centuries of attempted colonization from the Kings of Babylon to the current occupying Power. I hope the UN will play a real role in peace and not back out in the face of fear and danger. After all, it's there to accomplish world peace.
It's difficult to say when death will come knocking at your door. It's difficult to say in what manner you'll die. No matter how many times it's said, it's still best to live life as if everyday was your last.
I cherised many good memories in that building. I was telling my colleague that we used to play ping-pong every afternoon after work. My favorite player was Saad al-Asali. He was doing computational linguistics and I used to take linguistics and we could exchange our views on that while hitting away on the ball. There was a sort of camaraderie among the UN workers there and I'm sure like in every mission because a lot of us were far from our homes. Saad is Iraqi and he even came over to my house to play ping pong. I was very saddened to find out that he was badly hurt during the bombing. I met him in 2006 during the second anniversary and I met his family. He wasn't the same. He still had the same smile but he was hurting all over as the pieces of glass that shattered his body left him physically scarred.
It's sad to remember and it's even worse to see that Baghdad now lies in ruins. I can only blame the invasion because this may have never happened otherwise. I hope that Baghdad will soon rise again from the ashes as it always does in the centuries of attempted colonization from the Kings of Babylon to the current occupying Power. I hope the UN will play a real role in peace and not back out in the face of fear and danger. After all, it's there to accomplish world peace.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
bye bye laptop
as if my laptop wanted to go on vacation too, it finally conked out on me. i'm in the philippine embassy relating this story. after my mom shut down the computer yesterday, i woke up from my sleep but my laptop didn't. it had gone into a cyber coma allowing me only to get to the start up screen and not detecting the ethernet cable. and i would receive the message over and over again after i continually "press[ed] any key".
i thought to myself, indeed now i will be on vacation eventually even cutting me off from my cyber attachments in geneva.
i tried fixing it checking if the hardware were still intact. but i only had a mini screwdriver originally designed for my eyeglasses. as i tried to unscrew the tightly screwed screws of my laptop, i found that the size of the screwdriver was quite small and that any attempt at turning it only resulted in a slippery unsuccess. so, putting my mcgayver thinking cap on, i took a piece of rubber from my phone charger to prevent the handle from slipping. SUCCESS! i was able to unscrew about six screws until i found out that i would have to disassemble the whole laptop composing of more than 20 screws! so, i gave up as my thumbs were getting calloused from the unscrewing.
we'll be checking out of the hotel on saturday and hopefully our host and i could manage to resuscitate my laptop. otherwise, adios mi laptop!
i thought to myself, indeed now i will be on vacation eventually even cutting me off from my cyber attachments in geneva.
i tried fixing it checking if the hardware were still intact. but i only had a mini screwdriver originally designed for my eyeglasses. as i tried to unscrew the tightly screwed screws of my laptop, i found that the size of the screwdriver was quite small and that any attempt at turning it only resulted in a slippery unsuccess. so, putting my mcgayver thinking cap on, i took a piece of rubber from my phone charger to prevent the handle from slipping. SUCCESS! i was able to unscrew about six screws until i found out that i would have to disassemble the whole laptop composing of more than 20 screws! so, i gave up as my thumbs were getting calloused from the unscrewing.
we'll be checking out of the hotel on saturday and hopefully our host and i could manage to resuscitate my laptop. otherwise, adios mi laptop!
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
International AIDS Conference 2008 in Mexico
i'm in mexico right now primarily to see my mom and to help her give her presentation on the philippine experience on the topic of "travel restrictions on people living with HIV: going against the grain of human rights and public health". it's been an interesting experience as i move around people with HIV/AIDS and to see the human face of the disease. i have only attended two panel discussions, one which was my mom's and the other with malou marin of ACHIEVE on the topic "mobile populations and globalization." the panel is composed of around six people who relates their experiences whether as part of government, civil society, international organization or person living with HIV/AIDS.
the venue is in the heart of mexico at the banamex which is a big exhibition center next to a horse race track. the global village where most of the exhibits are situated is in the middle of the race track. it's also the registration area. with an expected attendance of 25,000 people, the tent was only half the size of the session halls where the main events took place.
===
secondly, i'm on vacation!
so far, i have only seen the city. on my first night here, i already saw the zona rosa which translated is the red light district.
we are staying in the nh centro historico hotel. as the name suggests, it's the historical center of mexico where the "templo mayor" used to be behind the palacio nacional. you can still see the ruins of the aztecs. i have yet to see it as mama doesn't have time and it's a pity to go on my own.
i was also quite touched when i kept urging my mom to go out and see some touristic sites. she said "i only came here to see you and mama mary". she was crying last night as she was so thankful that i could make it. i am so thankful too. and she keeps reminding me that she's not as young as me and even in my youth, i got so tired yesterday i slept the day off.
so, hopefully, when her conference ends, we can see some sites.
===
even if i'm on vacation, my email isn't. hehe. so, i still receive requests for things to do in the filipino community. this time i ask before accepting responsibilities so that it's clear. i like my life uncluttered and i'm trying not to expend myself at the cost of my health and my sanity. life is good and i want to keep it that way. simple and sweet.
the venue is in the heart of mexico at the banamex which is a big exhibition center next to a horse race track. the global village where most of the exhibits are situated is in the middle of the race track. it's also the registration area. with an expected attendance of 25,000 people, the tent was only half the size of the session halls where the main events took place.
===
secondly, i'm on vacation!
so far, i have only seen the city. on my first night here, i already saw the zona rosa which translated is the red light district.
we are staying in the nh centro historico hotel. as the name suggests, it's the historical center of mexico where the "templo mayor" used to be behind the palacio nacional. you can still see the ruins of the aztecs. i have yet to see it as mama doesn't have time and it's a pity to go on my own.
i was also quite touched when i kept urging my mom to go out and see some touristic sites. she said "i only came here to see you and mama mary". she was crying last night as she was so thankful that i could make it. i am so thankful too. and she keeps reminding me that she's not as young as me and even in my youth, i got so tired yesterday i slept the day off.
so, hopefully, when her conference ends, we can see some sites.
===
even if i'm on vacation, my email isn't. hehe. so, i still receive requests for things to do in the filipino community. this time i ask before accepting responsibilities so that it's clear. i like my life uncluttered and i'm trying not to expend myself at the cost of my health and my sanity. life is good and i want to keep it that way. simple and sweet.
Friday, August 01, 2008
dream, dream, dream .... dreeeaaam
we were in a hall of sorts preparing for a singing competition or concert. we were practising. i was facing a wall with bleachers and my things were spread on the bleachers. other participants would come up and talk to me and we'd exchange views.
cut scene: an office with people coming out. a place that seemed like a university. the people were on their way to the singing competition but would it breakfast first in this mess hall that looked like a university canteen. i thought i saw rae in the dream.
cut scene: i was in an office to look at something, maybe an exhibition but the floor was being cleaned or has been cleaned but the cleaning agent was still on the floor whilst, there was a meeting of organizers composed of filipinos and what seemed like spanish-looking people. i was with someone but i couldn't recognize her and we went into the office and it was slippery. the motion of my feet were circular trying to maintain my balance. each spot i tried to see that didn't have detergent or cleaning agent on it i would step to that area yet i would still catch the slippery part and again i would scramble for my balance as my feet move in circular motion. one of the organizers were trying to let us see the exhibit. finally as we were able to reach the exhibit ... (sequence ended)
cut scene: back to the competition hall there seemed to be drama. it wasn't apparent but i could feel it. i don't remember now if there was a singer missing. what i remember is coming back to the hall and meeting someone, a man who i would talk to. i don't remember all the parts of the dream now. the sequence ended at the competition hall.
cut scene: an office with people coming out. a place that seemed like a university. the people were on their way to the singing competition but would it breakfast first in this mess hall that looked like a university canteen. i thought i saw rae in the dream.
cut scene: i was in an office to look at something, maybe an exhibition but the floor was being cleaned or has been cleaned but the cleaning agent was still on the floor whilst, there was a meeting of organizers composed of filipinos and what seemed like spanish-looking people. i was with someone but i couldn't recognize her and we went into the office and it was slippery. the motion of my feet were circular trying to maintain my balance. each spot i tried to see that didn't have detergent or cleaning agent on it i would step to that area yet i would still catch the slippery part and again i would scramble for my balance as my feet move in circular motion. one of the organizers were trying to let us see the exhibit. finally as we were able to reach the exhibit ... (sequence ended)
cut scene: back to the competition hall there seemed to be drama. it wasn't apparent but i could feel it. i don't remember now if there was a singer missing. what i remember is coming back to the hall and meeting someone, a man who i would talk to. i don't remember all the parts of the dream now. the sequence ended at the competition hall.
Monday, July 28, 2008
another dream seqence ... of a serial killer
missy and i were in a supermarket. you could see stacks and stocks of goods that spanned floor to ceiling like a warehouse supermarket. we stood in front of a door and she was telling me of a movie her family and she had watched. we were walking around the market and i put my hand around her arm and we walked, the way we sometimes do. she told me of this movie where a serial killer commits murders and how i would have liked the puzzling nature of it. i said "why didn't you ask me then?" she suddenly squeezes her arm with my hand in it walking quickly almost to the point of running. i'm puzzled, why? so someone wouldn't see. i didn't know who. we reached round the bend and found ourselves in the toilet. i was about to enter the cubicle and she was just on her way out of the door when the serial killer - the same one we were just talking about, the one in the movie - appeared on the reflection on the mirror. (her face was familiar and i didin't know why i recognized her but i seemed to have dreamed of her too and could see that it was her - the serial killer.) i thought i had just imagined it. the killer, a woman, was standing in her towering glory, with her crooked high nose her teased black hair in front of the bathroom window. i only realized that it was true when missy didn't leave. i was thankful she was going to stay. then a little baby girl came in playing around the space between missy and her. the killer was shooing out the girl. and she managed. i went in to the cubicle but not taking my eye off the killer and missy who was now in the cubicle next to me keeping me company. i tried to go and relieve myself. i had managed to let some out and i had closed my eyes to try to concentrate then suddenly when i looked up i saw the killer taking the curtain that separated the cubicles, wrapping it around her waist and standing tall and hovering in front of missy's stall. missy was seated on the toilet with the lid down. my heart was beating so fast. the killer turned around grabbed what seemed like vials of chemicals from the ledge near the mirror, sneered in a menacing way, her lips curled at the side letting her grin reveal her evil desires, her eyes full of intent, spread her arms as if to smash the vials. horror gripped us, i screamed NOOOOOOO! then i woke up.
===
i woke up with heavy breathing and a pain in my chest. it all seemed so real because in my dream, i had dreamed of the killer sitting on the bus. i was on a bus with a friend or may even be alone, sitting in the back next to a temporarily handicapped man whose leg was in a crutch and propped himself up with crutches. he went down a certain street in front of a house where a lady was standing inside her gates looking at the bus. this lady waited anxiously for the bus and watched the man get off the bus and seated herself next to me coming into the bus door as any passenger would and then the next dream sequence above started.
===
i woke up with heavy breathing and a pain in my chest. it all seemed so real because in my dream, i had dreamed of the killer sitting on the bus. i was on a bus with a friend or may even be alone, sitting in the back next to a temporarily handicapped man whose leg was in a crutch and propped himself up with crutches. he went down a certain street in front of a house where a lady was standing inside her gates looking at the bus. this lady waited anxiously for the bus and watched the man get off the bus and seated herself next to me coming into the bus door as any passenger would and then the next dream sequence above started.
Friday, July 25, 2008
wanting wants ...
it seems that when you have little you want little things. when you have a lot, you want bigger things. when you have little, you manage with what you have. when you have a lot, it still seems lacking. what's wrong?
Thursday, July 24, 2008
bad habits
we watched bo sanchez talk on "how to end your bad habits NOW" last night during our super household meeting. (super household refers to the meeting of unit leaders and household leaders with the coordinators.) it talked about how people had addictions to compensate for something that's lacking in their lives. it's not the first time i heard it but what struck me is that they were overcompensating for the lack of love. their "love tanks" were empty or didn't have enough in them. and it doesn't take much to fill someone's love tank if you give them some time, some sincere encouragement and just your presence or even listening to them.
i used to be addicted to over-achieving because i got the affirmation i needed by other people. but i felt that i was never good enough for my family or for my mom. my mom would always look for the missing 1 per cent when i got the 99 per cent. but through the years, we worked our issues out and i stopped trying to get affirmation from her because she already apologized for making me feel inadequate and that i realized that she was after all human. she wasn't perfect or all-knowing as i idolized her to be. she was just mom who loved me and during her own trying times couldn't give me the love that i needed.
it took some years to work on all the times when she shunned us to hide her own pain. we suffered as her children but we were very blessed to be surrounded by other people who filled our love tanks. we had wonderful friends, titos and titas and even teachers who affirmed us and believed in us. my mom always had the best intention and she would always encourage us when she knew we could do it. actually, she was very confident in all our abilities that she didn't want to help us too much. she said that as she was growing up her parents never helped and that they were expected to fend for themselves. i guess that it's the way parenthood works. it's just a cycle. you learn from your parents.
so now, even if there are still remnants of that attention-hungry self, i turn to God who is the only one who can truly affirm us. everyone needs attention and love. it's up to us to rise to the challenge to fill someone's love tank so that they don't turn to addictions to run away from the pains they want to hide.
bo said: addiction is an escape from the painful feelings ...
i used to be addicted to over-achieving because i got the affirmation i needed by other people. but i felt that i was never good enough for my family or for my mom. my mom would always look for the missing 1 per cent when i got the 99 per cent. but through the years, we worked our issues out and i stopped trying to get affirmation from her because she already apologized for making me feel inadequate and that i realized that she was after all human. she wasn't perfect or all-knowing as i idolized her to be. she was just mom who loved me and during her own trying times couldn't give me the love that i needed.
it took some years to work on all the times when she shunned us to hide her own pain. we suffered as her children but we were very blessed to be surrounded by other people who filled our love tanks. we had wonderful friends, titos and titas and even teachers who affirmed us and believed in us. my mom always had the best intention and she would always encourage us when she knew we could do it. actually, she was very confident in all our abilities that she didn't want to help us too much. she said that as she was growing up her parents never helped and that they were expected to fend for themselves. i guess that it's the way parenthood works. it's just a cycle. you learn from your parents.
so now, even if there are still remnants of that attention-hungry self, i turn to God who is the only one who can truly affirm us. everyone needs attention and love. it's up to us to rise to the challenge to fill someone's love tank so that they don't turn to addictions to run away from the pains they want to hide.
bo said: addiction is an escape from the painful feelings ...
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
another sleepless but dreamful night ...
it's been difficult to sleep ever since i got a cold and a mild pollen allergy on top of it. my sinuses are swollen and it's next to impossible to sleep at night without the help of medication. i try to sleep as early as i can so that i don't wake up in the middle of the night unable to breath or with blocked sinuses or a headache. if possible, as soon as i take the meds, i'd go right to sleep but i would need to digest my food first. hehe. i don't want to die of indigestion. :D
but even in my truncated sleep, i am able to dream: still weird dreams!
last night, i dreamed that i was going on a boat or it seemed like a cruise liner. i was on it with some friends but the only intelligible one was jazu. she was there with me. we were meeting some people. i got the impression they were nurses but i'm not really sure.
then we were separated. then i saw three little boys. two black and one pinoy. the other black boy was naked and i was teasing him that his manly parts were small. but they were only small from a far. as he got nearer me, it wasn't as small as i thought it was. he wasn't circumcised and i suggested that he get circumcised because it was a cleaner option. that was after he had managed to retract the foreskin. there was no malice in the dream and i don't even know what it means.
after that scene, i returned on deck and jazu was coming. she had a new hairstyle which suited her and made her look like toni gonzaga. i asked her where she got it, i don't remember her reply. then i woke up.
i don't know whether i dreamed it in the middle of getting up at 2.22 a.m. or at 4 a.m. when i drank my medication. i am just amazed how i can dream so often even when sleep is short.
but even in my truncated sleep, i am able to dream: still weird dreams!
last night, i dreamed that i was going on a boat or it seemed like a cruise liner. i was on it with some friends but the only intelligible one was jazu. she was there with me. we were meeting some people. i got the impression they were nurses but i'm not really sure.
then we were separated. then i saw three little boys. two black and one pinoy. the other black boy was naked and i was teasing him that his manly parts were small. but they were only small from a far. as he got nearer me, it wasn't as small as i thought it was. he wasn't circumcised and i suggested that he get circumcised because it was a cleaner option. that was after he had managed to retract the foreskin. there was no malice in the dream and i don't even know what it means.
after that scene, i returned on deck and jazu was coming. she had a new hairstyle which suited her and made her look like toni gonzaga. i asked her where she got it, i don't remember her reply. then i woke up.
i don't know whether i dreamed it in the middle of getting up at 2.22 a.m. or at 4 a.m. when i drank my medication. i am just amazed how i can dream so often even when sleep is short.
what gifts do you have that you can use to bear fruit?
that was the reflection question in my daily Bible guide. i thought i could wait until today to write about it but i already wrote something in the guide itself last night. it made me think ... some people say i'm talented, but i'm not really sure what those talents are. one thing i'm sure of is that i can write. so, that's what i put ... writing. it's the most useful gift that i can think of to glorify Him. the others, i think are still germinating and it would take a while before it bears fruit. i'm not really sure which direction to face and if those seeds are getting enough sun light. in any case, i hope that someday i will bear the fruits that God wants me to produce. in the meantime, it's still a growing process for me.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
wandering in my dreams
as far as i could remember, i've always had out-of-the-ordinary dreams. when i was younger, i would dream headless soldiers dressed in nutcracker-ish costumes running after us as we got on the back of a pickup truck or a headless priest on the back of a pickup truck. then there was the moulin rouge murderous musical. and bodily fluids in excess.
yesterday i dreamt i was on an airplane. i was in the middle east with some people i didn't really know. then all of a sudden, our old driver, duraid, in baghdad popped up holding my current hair clip. he looks at me and says, "this is all that's left. i've kept it." ... in my mind i'm thinking, aren't i wearing it. i didn't have that clip in baghdad. and then he says, "i've been trying to email you ..." then, he started asking if i knew of a job for him. i knew that he had gotten married in the midst of the US-Iraq war. then again i was on the airplane.
what could these dreams mean ...
i had dreams about aliens near a car before and many more fantastic stories only the sleeping mind can think of.
yesterday i dreamt i was on an airplane. i was in the middle east with some people i didn't really know. then all of a sudden, our old driver, duraid, in baghdad popped up holding my current hair clip. he looks at me and says, "this is all that's left. i've kept it." ... in my mind i'm thinking, aren't i wearing it. i didn't have that clip in baghdad. and then he says, "i've been trying to email you ..." then, he started asking if i knew of a job for him. i knew that he had gotten married in the midst of the US-Iraq war. then again i was on the airplane.
what could these dreams mean ...
i had dreams about aliens near a car before and many more fantastic stories only the sleeping mind can think of.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
t r a c i n g m y heritage ...
i watched a rondalla from boston, massachusetts today. a rondalla is composed of stringed instruments: banduria, octavina, guitar and bajo de una. it's a remnant of old spanish culture in the philippines yet more than half a century after, it's still alive. and it's thriving not in the blood of natural born filipinos but filipinos that have grown abroad. filipinos that were born in the states.
i first played the banduria when my brother started learning it in grade 3 in the philippines. i don't remember the reason why i couldn't play in the rondalla then but my brother could. so, i learned on it when he wouldn't play it. but that was it. i forgot and then six-seven years later, i would play in a rondalla in abu dhabi. i had come as a "saling pusa" or just a sit-in but i grew to love the instrument. i grew to love the teacher. and that made me stay more than ever.
i loved playing the banduria because it was the instrument that i was really able to master. enough so that i could widow songs on it. but the instrument i bought cracked under bad weather. i wish it had kept.
seeing the rondalla tonight made me think of the past. about how filipinos abroad long to belong and they somehow trace their heritage because they are not completely one thing or the other. they are not just americans but also filipino. as we all are ... we are not just one thing or the other. i honour the kids that laboured and have embraced this filipino musicality as their own and to be so jubilant in doing so. i love seeing second or third generation pinoys identifying themselves as filipinos because they don't forget. they don't forget where they're from. they may be foreign in their mentality or foreign in their speech but in the way they look and the values they hold, it's still very much filipino.
i pray that every filipino will continuously be proud of their origin - however dark, bleak or hard. as the saying goes - ang hindi marunong lumingon si pinanggalingan ay hindi makakarating sa paroroonan. He who does not (know how to) look back at his past (where he came from) will not reach his destination. (http://iloko.tripod.com/philproverb.html).
because the filipino is a great person. he is full of potential. he is full of talent. he is resourceful. he is strong, he is many things. he is faithful, he is loyal, he is humble, he is persistent. he is an asset. he is happy. he is light. he is inspiring. he is driven. he is many things. he can be whatever he wants to be. there is no limit.
i first played the banduria when my brother started learning it in grade 3 in the philippines. i don't remember the reason why i couldn't play in the rondalla then but my brother could. so, i learned on it when he wouldn't play it. but that was it. i forgot and then six-seven years later, i would play in a rondalla in abu dhabi. i had come as a "saling pusa" or just a sit-in but i grew to love the instrument. i grew to love the teacher. and that made me stay more than ever.
i loved playing the banduria because it was the instrument that i was really able to master. enough so that i could widow songs on it. but the instrument i bought cracked under bad weather. i wish it had kept.
seeing the rondalla tonight made me think of the past. about how filipinos abroad long to belong and they somehow trace their heritage because they are not completely one thing or the other. they are not just americans but also filipino. as we all are ... we are not just one thing or the other. i honour the kids that laboured and have embraced this filipino musicality as their own and to be so jubilant in doing so. i love seeing second or third generation pinoys identifying themselves as filipinos because they don't forget. they don't forget where they're from. they may be foreign in their mentality or foreign in their speech but in the way they look and the values they hold, it's still very much filipino.
i pray that every filipino will continuously be proud of their origin - however dark, bleak or hard. as the saying goes - ang hindi marunong lumingon si pinanggalingan ay hindi makakarating sa paroroonan. He who does not (know how to) look back at his past (where he came from) will not reach his destination. (http://iloko.tripod.com/philproverb.html).
because the filipino is a great person. he is full of potential. he is full of talent. he is resourceful. he is strong, he is many things. he is faithful, he is loyal, he is humble, he is persistent. he is an asset. he is happy. he is light. he is inspiring. he is driven. he is many things. he can be whatever he wants to be. there is no limit.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
"A Wrinkle in Time" by Madeleine L'Engle
It's fantasy turned reality. It's not often that I get sucked in into a fantastic story plot that I feel the story consuming me. I could always detach myself because I knew the story was fiction. What was different with this book is that the familiar concepts of love, family, respect, patience, impatience and many more were all related with such clarity and vagueness that it was uncannily realistic.
It sounds ironic but isn't life? It's the consistency of inconsistencies and the unchanging differences that really caught my attention as I read this book. The main characters were outcasts: weird, strange and "moronic" by people's standard. Meg Murry, a lonely girl who deals with the mysterious absence of her father with much anger and treats and seems not to belong whatever she does. Charles Wallace is a little boy who doesn't know how to read yet but is so profound in his thinking he can virtually feel someone's mind and emotions. Calvin, the popular school jock that isn't comfortable in his own skin. He too is pretending to be like everyone else yet he knows he is different. Charles and Meg are from the Murry brood and has twin siblings: Dennys and Sandy, who are average at most. Mrs. Murry is a beautiful scientist who writes her missing husband every day to the amusement of the town and the post mistress who knows of her daily routine. The town believes Mr. Murry ran off with a younger lady when in fact, he "tessered" into time ... hence the title ... A Wrinkle in Time ... it's a way of traveling through time not linearly but in the fifth dimension, almost like folding paper so that one can get on one plane without crossing the "shortest" straight line between distances which is supposedly the widely accepted form of traveling.
That thinking out of the box also captured me. The life on Camazotz is very mucht the life we strive to have in this earth. A sort of status quo were nothing is ever different and we function with certain norms. We don't want to upset anyone so we try not to be "too" different. But for some people, the differences are the best ingredients of fun. For me, I admit that the monotony of life would kill me. I am one of those people who would at least try something once. Although I have my own inhibitions, I also that I could overcome them given the equation that I won't be on earth forever. Morbidity mentioned ... death is such a potent mover.
Sometimes, I feel that I've become very ordinary, in my dealings with people, in my writing, in my life. It's brought by the stability of life. Then I get sick and then there's variety. Then there's the occasional peppering of problems which could be problematic or which could just be blah. I'm thankful though that I don't have much problems right now except for that very vague concept of property and ownership and wealth: MONEY. But that too is temporal and arbitrary.
I would like to deal in terms of love ... although I would probably be one of the least wealthy, I think it would be a sort fair trade. Then again, what is the measure of love and would measuring its worth demean it? Hmmm ... maybe. What if it wasn't traded like a commodity? Maybe if it was given freely and then measured in terms of how it makes a person's life worth living? What if the world was like that? How nice it would be!
I look at you and see the beatings of your heart and feel every tick of that organ pulsating with love ... or the quiver it makes with each pain it feels. One could tell immediately what needs to be done. A dosage of love and kindness please! It would seem out of this world, even for me ... but why can't it be? Why do we hide in our little shells or put on other shells that hides who we really are? What are we afraid of? People's judgements? The world's approval ...
The book taught me that being different is good and that we all have our strengths in them. This is something we all probably know. But it was a gentle reminder that indeed even in the most chaotic of differences and changes, lies the gem of uniqueness.
It sounds ironic but isn't life? It's the consistency of inconsistencies and the unchanging differences that really caught my attention as I read this book. The main characters were outcasts: weird, strange and "moronic" by people's standard. Meg Murry, a lonely girl who deals with the mysterious absence of her father with much anger and treats and seems not to belong whatever she does. Charles Wallace is a little boy who doesn't know how to read yet but is so profound in his thinking he can virtually feel someone's mind and emotions. Calvin, the popular school jock that isn't comfortable in his own skin. He too is pretending to be like everyone else yet he knows he is different. Charles and Meg are from the Murry brood and has twin siblings: Dennys and Sandy, who are average at most. Mrs. Murry is a beautiful scientist who writes her missing husband every day to the amusement of the town and the post mistress who knows of her daily routine. The town believes Mr. Murry ran off with a younger lady when in fact, he "tessered" into time ... hence the title ... A Wrinkle in Time ... it's a way of traveling through time not linearly but in the fifth dimension, almost like folding paper so that one can get on one plane without crossing the "shortest" straight line between distances which is supposedly the widely accepted form of traveling.
That thinking out of the box also captured me. The life on Camazotz is very mucht the life we strive to have in this earth. A sort of status quo were nothing is ever different and we function with certain norms. We don't want to upset anyone so we try not to be "too" different. But for some people, the differences are the best ingredients of fun. For me, I admit that the monotony of life would kill me. I am one of those people who would at least try something once. Although I have my own inhibitions, I also that I could overcome them given the equation that I won't be on earth forever. Morbidity mentioned ... death is such a potent mover.
Sometimes, I feel that I've become very ordinary, in my dealings with people, in my writing, in my life. It's brought by the stability of life. Then I get sick and then there's variety. Then there's the occasional peppering of problems which could be problematic or which could just be blah. I'm thankful though that I don't have much problems right now except for that very vague concept of property and ownership and wealth: MONEY. But that too is temporal and arbitrary.
I would like to deal in terms of love ... although I would probably be one of the least wealthy, I think it would be a sort fair trade. Then again, what is the measure of love and would measuring its worth demean it? Hmmm ... maybe. What if it wasn't traded like a commodity? Maybe if it was given freely and then measured in terms of how it makes a person's life worth living? What if the world was like that? How nice it would be!
I look at you and see the beatings of your heart and feel every tick of that organ pulsating with love ... or the quiver it makes with each pain it feels. One could tell immediately what needs to be done. A dosage of love and kindness please! It would seem out of this world, even for me ... but why can't it be? Why do we hide in our little shells or put on other shells that hides who we really are? What are we afraid of? People's judgements? The world's approval ...
The book taught me that being different is good and that we all have our strengths in them. This is something we all probably know. But it was a gentle reminder that indeed even in the most chaotic of differences and changes, lies the gem of uniqueness.
Monday, July 14, 2008
of french and interviews
today was a challenging day. in the morning, i had my french oral exam and in the afternoon, i had a job interview. on top of that, at the back of my mind, i was thinking about how my mom was doing. she's still in hospital and is recovering from gastro and has been diagnosed with ischemia - a heart condition. i used to think my mom was invincible but as she gets older, she's showing signs of frailty. i know it's normal. she can have whatever disease, as long as i die before her! i know that's asking a bit much but it just shows how important she is in my life. she's our only parent and it's difficult when she get's sick because we become orphans twice over.
===
on my french exam, i conjugated my verb wrongly and i kept repeating it. i wonder what it was like for the examiner to hear someone say "j'allerai" about three thousand times instead of the proper "j'irai". oh well ... i can't take it back now and i am trying my utmost to practice it. i guess maybe i should just get a french-speaking boyfriend as was recommended the first time i came here. maybe not~! hehe. hopefully, in that 15 minutes of describing a picture with my partner dmitro, we were able to make sense. he had to describe a young lady walking off into the sea. i had to describe a lady with her back turned to us. i just imagined she wanted to have a kid of her own that's why she was looking at her niece.
===
i had my job interview too. i hope i didn't appear overconfident and that what i said was true because my boss was there too. she kindly reminded that i'm just "one of the favorites" for urgents. i hope that they will see it as confidence and not overconfidence. i had to use some french too because they asked how my french was.
===
well, that's it for now. it was stomach churning but all in all, not life threatening so i guess i still have it blessed than most. i have nothing to complain about! i'm just glad it's all over. mama might be coming out of hospital tomorrow. i don't have to think about french for a while except to leisurely learn it on the street or whenever i can. as for my job, they said it's all just a formality. i can never be too sure. i just pray that all will be well.
===
on my french exam, i conjugated my verb wrongly and i kept repeating it. i wonder what it was like for the examiner to hear someone say "j'allerai" about three thousand times instead of the proper "j'irai". oh well ... i can't take it back now and i am trying my utmost to practice it. i guess maybe i should just get a french-speaking boyfriend as was recommended the first time i came here. maybe not~! hehe. hopefully, in that 15 minutes of describing a picture with my partner dmitro, we were able to make sense. he had to describe a young lady walking off into the sea. i had to describe a lady with her back turned to us. i just imagined she wanted to have a kid of her own that's why she was looking at her niece.
===
i had my job interview too. i hope i didn't appear overconfident and that what i said was true because my boss was there too. she kindly reminded that i'm just "one of the favorites" for urgents. i hope that they will see it as confidence and not overconfidence. i had to use some french too because they asked how my french was.
===
well, that's it for now. it was stomach churning but all in all, not life threatening so i guess i still have it blessed than most. i have nothing to complain about! i'm just glad it's all over. mama might be coming out of hospital tomorrow. i don't have to think about french for a while except to leisurely learn it on the street or whenever i can. as for my job, they said it's all just a formality. i can never be too sure. i just pray that all will be well.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Following your passion
I've never heard such a loud message in my life as this - FOLLOW YOUR PASSION. Since February, when I first gave a talk to a group of Singles for Christ in Milan, Italy, I've been bombarded by the messages of living life with passion, of pursuing your passion of making God your passion. I came back from that Empowerment Weekend with a certain high. I felt the passion in my life.
But what is passion? Is it just that torrid kissing scene in the movie? Is it that burning heat between two lovers? It's more than that! It's a strong commitment to a cause or someone. Commitment being a conscious decision and not just a fleeting feeling.
I've never really been a prolific speaker but when I get passionate about something, I can talk on the topic forever. One of the topics that really gets me going is the topic of GOD. Ever since I was small, I've always been drawn to the Church. I always gave the rites and sacraments so much importance and if I could follow it to the letter, I would. But of course, that was just the mechanical Catholic in me. It was not as meaningful as it could be. It wasn't lip service either. I truly believed that by following the rules and regulations of religion, I could claim salvation. Was I wrong! My life as a wanderer has taught me that the golden rule of "Do unto others as you want others to do unto you" is possibly the best way to prove your love to God and to begin the journey of faith and salvation.
There ... I started talking about something that was close to my heart and I could go on and on.
Going back to my talk on passion ... in February it was the Power of Passion, then Mama gives me a book on "40 Stories of Passion" of people who continue to feed the fire in their bellies in serving God and humanity. Then my recent talk on Discovering Your Passion - not just for your life partner but most importantly to God - the source of all passion and love.
Last Wednesday, I chanced upon a reflection on creativity and passion which remembered Madeleine L'Engle and her most renowned works and how one must discipline himself to write. I also opened up a book telling me to write my own book. Then as I was walking to church, a leaflet was on the sidewalk and it said "Follow your passion". It was too uncanny!!! I picked it up (even if it was dirty and was a Marlboro advertisement). God works in mysterious ways and I have neglected my writing for a long time.
So, I thought what was God telling me? I have never been so passionate in my life as to talk about God. There are other things that I could do for a lifetime but I don't know what am supposed to do to bring out the passion in me. I know I should write, but write what? I know I have many thoughts that could better see light than be stored in my dimly lit mind.
It's still one big question mark. I've buried all passion in my life that I don't know which one I should pull out. I have been just okay but just okay is not enough. As from the talk, we should strive for excellence in everything - note in everything, whatever it may be.
So ... hopefully by writing here, I am making a step towards fulfilling that passion and feeding that fire in my belly that hopefully will enkindle other souls. I want to burn with passion for what I do in life, I want to burn for God.
The final message of my talk is: Live life and love with passion!
But what is passion? Is it just that torrid kissing scene in the movie? Is it that burning heat between two lovers? It's more than that! It's a strong commitment to a cause or someone. Commitment being a conscious decision and not just a fleeting feeling.
I've never really been a prolific speaker but when I get passionate about something, I can talk on the topic forever. One of the topics that really gets me going is the topic of GOD. Ever since I was small, I've always been drawn to the Church. I always gave the rites and sacraments so much importance and if I could follow it to the letter, I would. But of course, that was just the mechanical Catholic in me. It was not as meaningful as it could be. It wasn't lip service either. I truly believed that by following the rules and regulations of religion, I could claim salvation. Was I wrong! My life as a wanderer has taught me that the golden rule of "Do unto others as you want others to do unto you" is possibly the best way to prove your love to God and to begin the journey of faith and salvation.
There ... I started talking about something that was close to my heart and I could go on and on.
Going back to my talk on passion ... in February it was the Power of Passion, then Mama gives me a book on "40 Stories of Passion" of people who continue to feed the fire in their bellies in serving God and humanity. Then my recent talk on Discovering Your Passion - not just for your life partner but most importantly to God - the source of all passion and love.
Last Wednesday, I chanced upon a reflection on creativity and passion which remembered Madeleine L'Engle and her most renowned works and how one must discipline himself to write. I also opened up a book telling me to write my own book. Then as I was walking to church, a leaflet was on the sidewalk and it said "Follow your passion". It was too uncanny!!! I picked it up (even if it was dirty and was a Marlboro advertisement). God works in mysterious ways and I have neglected my writing for a long time.
So, I thought what was God telling me? I have never been so passionate in my life as to talk about God. There are other things that I could do for a lifetime but I don't know what am supposed to do to bring out the passion in me. I know I should write, but write what? I know I have many thoughts that could better see light than be stored in my dimly lit mind.
It's still one big question mark. I've buried all passion in my life that I don't know which one I should pull out. I have been just okay but just okay is not enough. As from the talk, we should strive for excellence in everything - note in everything, whatever it may be.
So ... hopefully by writing here, I am making a step towards fulfilling that passion and feeding that fire in my belly that hopefully will enkindle other souls. I want to burn with passion for what I do in life, I want to burn for God.
The final message of my talk is: Live life and love with passion!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
broken bodies
Overseas Filipino Workers have always held a special place in my heart. I have witnessed so much of their hardship through my stay abroad and as I watched my mom coming to their aid - in the Middle East particularly.
I consider myself lucky that I am part of the more blessed OFWs with a legitimate working contract and a resident permit in Switzerland.
I honour all those OFWs who have stayed away from their families for so long and have eked out a living sacrificing their own loneliness to send enough for their families to live comfortably back home.
For all those OFWs, this is my little tribute:
Broken bodies
Broken lives
Broken spirits
for a family back home
in tact.
I consider myself lucky that I am part of the more blessed OFWs with a legitimate working contract and a resident permit in Switzerland.
I honour all those OFWs who have stayed away from their families for so long and have eked out a living sacrificing their own loneliness to send enough for their families to live comfortably back home.
For all those OFWs, this is my little tribute:
Broken bodies
Broken lives
Broken spirits
for a family back home
in tact.
Friday, February 01, 2008
of gossips ... and their kingdoms ...
some people get lost in the seabed of gossips, floating in and out of the lies and the fantastic stories that they create for themselves and for others ... almost like new looking glasses to see the world through, certainly colourful but murky at best, not seeing the true outlines but the soft blurs of the beautiful lies ...
some people see it as a compulsion to gossip, to create this weave of stories that they choose to see of other people and of themselves. sometimes, they like themselves to be the bearer of news, good or bad, of the source, of the mouth that whispers to people's ears so they can hear what they want to hear ...
like a kingdom of some sort, they create their domain, where all are their subjects and slaves and they are the rulers!
some people see it as a compulsion to gossip, to create this weave of stories that they choose to see of other people and of themselves. sometimes, they like themselves to be the bearer of news, good or bad, of the source, of the mouth that whispers to people's ears so they can hear what they want to hear ...
like a kingdom of some sort, they create their domain, where all are their subjects and slaves and they are the rulers!
Saturday, January 26, 2008
of wanderers ...
it seems that if you search "wanderer" on google, tons of web pages and blogs will come out containing that term ... i guess there are a lot of people on this journey called life and they see themselves as wanderers, looking for a final destination, or just going with the flow, but nonetheless, travelers that wander ...
i guess i'm one of them. i don't exactly know where life is taking me or where i'm taking my life. i like to think of myself as a wanderer looking for answers ... and since i travel a lot and have traveled most of my life, i see that my physical travails are part of a journey to a destination whether it be to find my purpose in life or to find out who i really am. i don't know where it will lead me or what tales will come out of it but it reassures me that there are people that share my journey ... kindred wanderers in spirit.
i guess i'm one of them. i don't exactly know where life is taking me or where i'm taking my life. i like to think of myself as a wanderer looking for answers ... and since i travel a lot and have traveled most of my life, i see that my physical travails are part of a journey to a destination whether it be to find my purpose in life or to find out who i really am. i don't know where it will lead me or what tales will come out of it but it reassures me that there are people that share my journey ... kindred wanderers in spirit.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Capturing grief
I wanted to take out my phone ... to take a picture ... but I couldn't do it. I couldn't or I didn't want to capture the tattered pieces of a the UN flag that was blown away by the terrorist attack at the Algiers office because I thought it irreverent to do so. I tried but shame got the best of me.
Amidst the wailing of one of the relatives, the official eulogy by the Secretary-General, the somber atmosphere of the black-clad audience, it was too forward to take a picture to take a souvenir for myself. It would be selfish.
The pictures of the victims were put in frames that were spread across the General Assembly hall. Eighteen of them died in the tragic event. Most of them were Algerian but there were international staff too.
They are:
Mustapha Benbara
Karim Bentebal
Saadia-Lamia Boucelham
Hind Boukhroufa
Mouloud Bouldrouah
Samia Hammoutene
Chadi Hamza
Abderrahim Hanniche
Mohamed Khelladi
Mohamed Lasli
Ma Gene Luna - Filipino
Babacar Ndiaye
Steven Robin Olejas - Danish
Djamel Rezzoug
Kamel Sait
Hakim Si Larbi
Nabil Slimani
Adnane Souilah
Each family representative lit a candle in front of the pictures and one could hear the sorrow in each sob. Beside me were UN colleagues that shared the families' bereavement, wiping away teardrops and silently weeping.
No one clapped at any speech including that of Ban Ki-Moon. It was too solemn. He respectfully bowed after his speech. Bowing in front of their pictures. When he unveiled the tattered flag, my heart wrenched in its place. What I felt was nothing compared to the loss of those families. The flag had only three remaining pieces. The logo of olive leaves barely noticeable as only the leftmost part, the central lower part and the slightest sliver of the olive branch at upper right in the second quadrant of the flag was superimposed on a separate cloth outlining how the flag should look. He then bowed in front of the flag.
Death comes like a thief in the night ... it's a saying that is often true. Gene had just transferred only a week before from her mission from Afghanistan then to Algeria when the attack happened. Nobody can really be sure when they will die. And even in the most secure places, death comes like a blanket snuffing out the living.
What I feel is nothing compared to the family. I share in their grief and hope that their loved ones who died in the service of the UN will see the peace that they all worked so hard for.
Amidst the wailing of one of the relatives, the official eulogy by the Secretary-General, the somber atmosphere of the black-clad audience, it was too forward to take a picture to take a souvenir for myself. It would be selfish.
The pictures of the victims were put in frames that were spread across the General Assembly hall. Eighteen of them died in the tragic event. Most of them were Algerian but there were international staff too.
They are:
Mustapha Benbara
Karim Bentebal
Saadia-Lamia Boucelham
Hind Boukhroufa
Mouloud Bouldrouah
Samia Hammoutene
Chadi Hamza
Abderrahim Hanniche
Mohamed Khelladi
Mohamed Lasli
Ma Gene Luna - Filipino
Babacar Ndiaye
Steven Robin Olejas - Danish
Djamel Rezzoug
Kamel Sait
Hakim Si Larbi
Nabil Slimani
Adnane Souilah
Each family representative lit a candle in front of the pictures and one could hear the sorrow in each sob. Beside me were UN colleagues that shared the families' bereavement, wiping away teardrops and silently weeping.
No one clapped at any speech including that of Ban Ki-Moon. It was too solemn. He respectfully bowed after his speech. Bowing in front of their pictures. When he unveiled the tattered flag, my heart wrenched in its place. What I felt was nothing compared to the loss of those families. The flag had only three remaining pieces. The logo of olive leaves barely noticeable as only the leftmost part, the central lower part and the slightest sliver of the olive branch at upper right in the second quadrant of the flag was superimposed on a separate cloth outlining how the flag should look. He then bowed in front of the flag.
Death comes like a thief in the night ... it's a saying that is often true. Gene had just transferred only a week before from her mission from Afghanistan then to Algeria when the attack happened. Nobody can really be sure when they will die. And even in the most secure places, death comes like a blanket snuffing out the living.
What I feel is nothing compared to the family. I share in their grief and hope that their loved ones who died in the service of the UN will see the peace that they all worked so hard for.
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