It’s been awhile since I last posted here. I know that Matell and Kitt are just so busy now. I can just imagine juggling everything to cope with the year-end stuff. Me, I am quite busy layouting publications, writing, and a lot of russians and argentinians (rush yan, urgent yan hehe) on the side.
For some reasons, I am just so paranoid now, but I am trying to be calm. There are just lots of things that I need to attend to, and I am having difficulty giving my best to each of them. My officemates are now seeing my temper, and there are moments when I am crying because of the sudden outburst of emotions.
Thanks to this blog. I have a way to let my insides out. The previous weeks caught me in a series of emotional extremes. I was overjoyed, but then all of a sudden extreme paranoia got the better of me. I ended up crying and going back to the dorm. I found myself writing, talking to God. That worked.
The Lord has been merciful to me, ever since actually. At times I have the tendency to always do things my way. To rely on my wisdom, until I get so weary. Then I’ll cry to God. After that everything is taken care of.
Now, I am writing again. I am glad. I hope this emotional stability continues.
What's good about the rain? by Toni Kindipan
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Posted by my friend, former officemate in Devcom Division here at PhilRice, Toni Kindipan. Toni,together with her two sisters and her mother, 25, died after the landslide in Benguet.
---------------------------------------
"Doing what is right today means no regrets tomorrow."I was looking out
from the window this afternoon while the strong winds battered and the
heavy downpour of rain lashed houses and trees in our neighborhood. A
super typhoon is heading our way, again. While staring at the pouring
rain, I thought, "What’s good about the rain?"
Seven years ago, a super typhoon hit our area that damaged a lot of
properties and took a number of lives. I was about 18 years old then and
although I have grown up to such a stormy environment, this typhoon was
one of the greatest shocks of my life, that until now left a bad memory in
me. A big landslide came rushing down from the mountain cutting the area
beside our house. The impact was so strong that the earth shook. We all
thought it was an earthquake. After a few minutes, people in our
neighborhood all came out to see a huge area dug out with thick mud all
over the place. A house beside ours was partly taken and I saw a person
being pulled out from the mud. I was totally scared. Immediately, I and my
family were out into the rain heading towards the evacuation center where
we stayed for a few days until the storm was gone.
A week ago, our capital city was the center of media attraction, both
local and international, because of the storm that hit a record high of
rainfall in just a matter of hours and send raging waters along the roads
and streets of Manila making it like a big river inundating thousands upon
thousands of houses, washing away years of investments and livelihood of
more than a million people. The sight was horrible and pathetic. The storm
was no respecter of people. Rich and poor, famous and ordinary people
alike were on their roofs waving for help. Thousands became homeless and
starting back to zero. Children could not go to school. People couldn’t go
back to work. For a time, the world for them came to a halt. It has been
said that this was the worst disaster that affected the whole of Metro
Manila in 40 years.
My personal experience about the storm gave me a bit of trauma that
whenever it rains, I always think of our safety. When the rainy season
comes (usually starts from June to October), I start to worry about my
family especially when I am away from them. Even when I am at home,
hearing the rain pouring at night keeps me awake, not because of the
strong downpour but because of thoughts that I may be caught off guard in
case something bad happens. Because of these, I hated the rain. Today,
this thought kept me thinking. “What’s good about the rain?” Sure, it
sends irrigation to scorched lands and all other areas and creatures
needing water but too much of it sends catastrophe to others. Thinking
about it further however, makes me believe that there is more to it than
that.
After the flooding in Manila, people are pointing fingers at each other on
who is to blame for this disaster. Some said it’s not an act of God as
people have become so irresponsible of taking care of our environment
instead it’s a wakeup call from God that we be conscious of our roles as
stewards of what He has given us. In the name of development, people have
cared less of the consequences of their actions. High-rise commercial
buildings mushroomed everywhere even in places where they are not supposed
to be located. Talk about poor urban planning as pointed out by one
official. Garbage! Yes, the ubiquitous wastes which scatter at every
corner now clogged the supposed waterways and drainage that should have
eased the flow of water. Climate change? This is yet another easy culprit
or say, lame reason for some but could be a consideration. Now, is this
the prize for socially irresponsible way of development? I leave it up to
you to judge. What’s good about the rain? Perhaps it’s nice to think that
it reminds us of our social responsibility as good members of our society.
When we were at the brink of that situation back in 2002, there was
nothing we could do but pray and ask the Almighty to spare us from the
wrath of nature. Natural calamities are always stronger than us and almost
always, we as humans are helpless in this. When we got back to our house
after the storm, we were so grateful that everything was intact. Nothing
was lost or damaged. It was amazing that the area on both sides of our
house had landslides but our house was untouched. I realized that in times
like these, what’s good about the rain is that it makes one draw closer to
the all-powerful God who holds everything in His hand.
Many also believe that what happened in Manila is an act of God to which
we don’t have control. It is pretty scary in fact to think this way. But
even in the Bible, it tells of stories about people who suffered disasters
because of their sins. More than the garbage that floats around us, a
better attention should be given to the garbage in us or our sins that
makes this place a sickening abode of injustice, crime, and all sorts or
perversion. But it is comforting to know that there is also the story of
His forgiveness and salvation of our self-inflicted garbage.
If there is something good about the rain, for me, it would be these
realizations. Tonight, even as I write this, the rain continues to pour
on. But what’s good about it is that it makes me value more the thought
that life is brief, that there are so many things to be thankful for, that
I can always trust the One who gives life to spare my life and the ones I
love from this storm.
To those in the area of the storm Pepeng and to everyone, keep safe!
---------------------------------------
"Doing what is right today means no regrets tomorrow."I was looking out
from the window this afternoon while the strong winds battered and the
heavy downpour of rain lashed houses and trees in our neighborhood. A
super typhoon is heading our way, again. While staring at the pouring
rain, I thought, "What’s good about the rain?"
Seven years ago, a super typhoon hit our area that damaged a lot of
properties and took a number of lives. I was about 18 years old then and
although I have grown up to such a stormy environment, this typhoon was
one of the greatest shocks of my life, that until now left a bad memory in
me. A big landslide came rushing down from the mountain cutting the area
beside our house. The impact was so strong that the earth shook. We all
thought it was an earthquake. After a few minutes, people in our
neighborhood all came out to see a huge area dug out with thick mud all
over the place. A house beside ours was partly taken and I saw a person
being pulled out from the mud. I was totally scared. Immediately, I and my
family were out into the rain heading towards the evacuation center where
we stayed for a few days until the storm was gone.
A week ago, our capital city was the center of media attraction, both
local and international, because of the storm that hit a record high of
rainfall in just a matter of hours and send raging waters along the roads
and streets of Manila making it like a big river inundating thousands upon
thousands of houses, washing away years of investments and livelihood of
more than a million people. The sight was horrible and pathetic. The storm
was no respecter of people. Rich and poor, famous and ordinary people
alike were on their roofs waving for help. Thousands became homeless and
starting back to zero. Children could not go to school. People couldn’t go
back to work. For a time, the world for them came to a halt. It has been
said that this was the worst disaster that affected the whole of Metro
Manila in 40 years.
My personal experience about the storm gave me a bit of trauma that
whenever it rains, I always think of our safety. When the rainy season
comes (usually starts from June to October), I start to worry about my
family especially when I am away from them. Even when I am at home,
hearing the rain pouring at night keeps me awake, not because of the
strong downpour but because of thoughts that I may be caught off guard in
case something bad happens. Because of these, I hated the rain. Today,
this thought kept me thinking. “What’s good about the rain?” Sure, it
sends irrigation to scorched lands and all other areas and creatures
needing water but too much of it sends catastrophe to others. Thinking
about it further however, makes me believe that there is more to it than
that.
After the flooding in Manila, people are pointing fingers at each other on
who is to blame for this disaster. Some said it’s not an act of God as
people have become so irresponsible of taking care of our environment
instead it’s a wakeup call from God that we be conscious of our roles as
stewards of what He has given us. In the name of development, people have
cared less of the consequences of their actions. High-rise commercial
buildings mushroomed everywhere even in places where they are not supposed
to be located. Talk about poor urban planning as pointed out by one
official. Garbage! Yes, the ubiquitous wastes which scatter at every
corner now clogged the supposed waterways and drainage that should have
eased the flow of water. Climate change? This is yet another easy culprit
or say, lame reason for some but could be a consideration. Now, is this
the prize for socially irresponsible way of development? I leave it up to
you to judge. What’s good about the rain? Perhaps it’s nice to think that
it reminds us of our social responsibility as good members of our society.
When we were at the brink of that situation back in 2002, there was
nothing we could do but pray and ask the Almighty to spare us from the
wrath of nature. Natural calamities are always stronger than us and almost
always, we as humans are helpless in this. When we got back to our house
after the storm, we were so grateful that everything was intact. Nothing
was lost or damaged. It was amazing that the area on both sides of our
house had landslides but our house was untouched. I realized that in times
like these, what’s good about the rain is that it makes one draw closer to
the all-powerful God who holds everything in His hand.
Many also believe that what happened in Manila is an act of God to which
we don’t have control. It is pretty scary in fact to think this way. But
even in the Bible, it tells of stories about people who suffered disasters
because of their sins. More than the garbage that floats around us, a
better attention should be given to the garbage in us or our sins that
makes this place a sickening abode of injustice, crime, and all sorts or
perversion. But it is comforting to know that there is also the story of
His forgiveness and salvation of our self-inflicted garbage.
If there is something good about the rain, for me, it would be these
realizations. Tonight, even as I write this, the rain continues to pour
on. But what’s good about it is that it makes me value more the thought
that life is brief, that there are so many things to be thankful for, that
I can always trust the One who gives life to spare my life and the ones I
love from this storm.
To those in the area of the storm Pepeng and to everyone, keep safe!
The Optimism of Uncertainty by Howard Zinn
Saturday, October 3, 2009
I find meaning and purpose in this piece. A silver lining in the midst of the disasters that our country faces today.
===========================================
The Optimism of Uncertainty
by Howard Zinn
In this awful world where the efforts of caring people often pale in comparison to what is done by those who have power, how do I manage to stay involved and seemingly happy?
I am totally confident not that the world will get better, but that we should not give up the game before all the cards have been played. The metaphor is deliberate; life is a gamble. Not to play is to foreclose any chance of winning. To play, to act, is to create at least a possibility of changing the world.
There is a tendency to think that what we see in the present moment will continue. We forget how often we have been astonished by the sudden crumbling of institutions, by extraordinary changes in people's thoughts, by unexpected eruptions of rebellion against tyrannies, by the quick collapse of systems of power that seemed invincible.
What leaps out from the history of the past hundred years is its utter unpredictability. A revolution to overthrow the czar of Russia, in that most sluggish of semi-feudal empires, not only startled the most advanced imperial powers but took Lenin himself by surprise and sent him rushing by train to Petrograd. Who would have predicted the bizarre shifts of World War II--the Nazi-Soviet pact (those embarrassing photos of von Ribbentrop and Molotov shaking hands), and the German Army rolling through Russia, apparently invincible, causing colossal casualties, being turned back at the gates of Leningrad, on the western edge of Moscow, in the streets of Stalingrad, followed by the defeat of the German army, with Hitler huddled in his Berlin bunker, waiting to die?
And then the postwar world, taking a shape no one could have drawn in advance: The Chinese Communist revolution, the tumultuous and violent Cultural Revolution, and then another turnabout, with post-Mao China renouncing its most fervently held ideas and institutions, making overtures to the West, cuddling up to capitalist enterprise, perplexing everyone.
No one foresaw the disintegration of the old Western empires happening so quickly after the war, or the odd array of societies that would be created in the newly independent nations, from the benign village socialism of Nyerere's Tanzania to the madness of Idi Amin's adjacent Uganda. Spain became an astonishment. I recall a veteran of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade telling me that he could not imagine Spanish Fascism being overthrown without another bloody war. But after Franco was gone, a parliamentary democracy came into being, open to Socialists, Communists, anarchists, everyone.
The end of World War II left two superpowers with their respective spheres of influence and control, vying for military and political power. Yet they were unable to control events, even in those parts of the world considered to be their respective spheres of influence. The failure of the Soviet Union to have its way in Afghanistan, its decision to withdraw after almost a decade of ugly intervention, was the most striking evidence that even the possession of thermonuclear weapons does not guarantee domination over a determined population. The United States has faced the same reality. It waged a full-scale war in lndochina, conducting the most brutal bombardment of a tiny peninsula in world history, and yet was forced to withdraw. In the headlines every day we see other instances of the failure of the presumably powerful over the presumably powerless, as in Brazil, where a grassroots movement of workers and the poor elected a new president pledged to fight destructive corporate power.
Looking at this catalogue of huge surprises, it's clear that the struggle for justice should never be abandoned because of the apparent overwhelming power of those who have the guns and the money and who seem invincible in their determination to hold on to it. That apparent power has, again and again, proved vulnerable to human qualities less measurable than bombs and dollars: moral fervor, determination, unity, organization, sacrifice, wit, ingenuity, courage, patience--whether by blacks in Alabama and South Africa, peasants in El Salvador, Nicaragua and Vietnam, or workers and intellectuals in Poland, Hungary and the Soviet Union itself. No cold calculation of the balance of power need deter people who are persuaded that their cause is just.
I have tried hard to match my friends in their pessimism about the world (is it just my friends?), but I keep encountering people who, in spite of all the evidence of terrible things happening everywhere, give me hope. Especially young people, in whom the future rests. Wherever I go, I find such people. And beyond the handful of activists there seem to be hundreds, thousands, more who are open to unorthodox ideas. But they tend not to know of one another's existence, and so, while they persist, they do so with the desperate patience of Sisyphus endlessly pushing that boulder up the mountain. I try to tell each group that it is not alone, and that the very people who are disheartened by the absence of a national movement are themselves proof of the potential for such a movement.
Revolutionary change does not come as one cataclysmic moment (beware of such moments!) but as an endless succession of surprises, moving zigzag toward a more decent society. We don't have to engage in grand, heroic actions to participate in the process of change. Small acts, when multiplied by millions of people, can transform the world. Even when we don't "win," there is fun and fulfillment in the fact that we have been involved, with other good people, in something worthwhile. We need hope.
An optimist isn't necessarily a blithe, slightly sappy whistler in the dark of our time. To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places--and there are so many--where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however small a way, we don't have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.
===========================================
The Optimism of Uncertainty
by Howard Zinn
In this awful world where the efforts of caring people often pale in comparison to what is done by those who have power, how do I manage to stay involved and seemingly happy?
I am totally confident not that the world will get better, but that we should not give up the game before all the cards have been played. The metaphor is deliberate; life is a gamble. Not to play is to foreclose any chance of winning. To play, to act, is to create at least a possibility of changing the world.
There is a tendency to think that what we see in the present moment will continue. We forget how often we have been astonished by the sudden crumbling of institutions, by extraordinary changes in people's thoughts, by unexpected eruptions of rebellion against tyrannies, by the quick collapse of systems of power that seemed invincible.
What leaps out from the history of the past hundred years is its utter unpredictability. A revolution to overthrow the czar of Russia, in that most sluggish of semi-feudal empires, not only startled the most advanced imperial powers but took Lenin himself by surprise and sent him rushing by train to Petrograd. Who would have predicted the bizarre shifts of World War II--the Nazi-Soviet pact (those embarrassing photos of von Ribbentrop and Molotov shaking hands), and the German Army rolling through Russia, apparently invincible, causing colossal casualties, being turned back at the gates of Leningrad, on the western edge of Moscow, in the streets of Stalingrad, followed by the defeat of the German army, with Hitler huddled in his Berlin bunker, waiting to die?
And then the postwar world, taking a shape no one could have drawn in advance: The Chinese Communist revolution, the tumultuous and violent Cultural Revolution, and then another turnabout, with post-Mao China renouncing its most fervently held ideas and institutions, making overtures to the West, cuddling up to capitalist enterprise, perplexing everyone.
No one foresaw the disintegration of the old Western empires happening so quickly after the war, or the odd array of societies that would be created in the newly independent nations, from the benign village socialism of Nyerere's Tanzania to the madness of Idi Amin's adjacent Uganda. Spain became an astonishment. I recall a veteran of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade telling me that he could not imagine Spanish Fascism being overthrown without another bloody war. But after Franco was gone, a parliamentary democracy came into being, open to Socialists, Communists, anarchists, everyone.
The end of World War II left two superpowers with their respective spheres of influence and control, vying for military and political power. Yet they were unable to control events, even in those parts of the world considered to be their respective spheres of influence. The failure of the Soviet Union to have its way in Afghanistan, its decision to withdraw after almost a decade of ugly intervention, was the most striking evidence that even the possession of thermonuclear weapons does not guarantee domination over a determined population. The United States has faced the same reality. It waged a full-scale war in lndochina, conducting the most brutal bombardment of a tiny peninsula in world history, and yet was forced to withdraw. In the headlines every day we see other instances of the failure of the presumably powerful over the presumably powerless, as in Brazil, where a grassroots movement of workers and the poor elected a new president pledged to fight destructive corporate power.
Looking at this catalogue of huge surprises, it's clear that the struggle for justice should never be abandoned because of the apparent overwhelming power of those who have the guns and the money and who seem invincible in their determination to hold on to it. That apparent power has, again and again, proved vulnerable to human qualities less measurable than bombs and dollars: moral fervor, determination, unity, organization, sacrifice, wit, ingenuity, courage, patience--whether by blacks in Alabama and South Africa, peasants in El Salvador, Nicaragua and Vietnam, or workers and intellectuals in Poland, Hungary and the Soviet Union itself. No cold calculation of the balance of power need deter people who are persuaded that their cause is just.
I have tried hard to match my friends in their pessimism about the world (is it just my friends?), but I keep encountering people who, in spite of all the evidence of terrible things happening everywhere, give me hope. Especially young people, in whom the future rests. Wherever I go, I find such people. And beyond the handful of activists there seem to be hundreds, thousands, more who are open to unorthodox ideas. But they tend not to know of one another's existence, and so, while they persist, they do so with the desperate patience of Sisyphus endlessly pushing that boulder up the mountain. I try to tell each group that it is not alone, and that the very people who are disheartened by the absence of a national movement are themselves proof of the potential for such a movement.
Revolutionary change does not come as one cataclysmic moment (beware of such moments!) but as an endless succession of surprises, moving zigzag toward a more decent society. We don't have to engage in grand, heroic actions to participate in the process of change. Small acts, when multiplied by millions of people, can transform the world. Even when we don't "win," there is fun and fulfillment in the fact that we have been involved, with other good people, in something worthwhile. We need hope.
An optimist isn't necessarily a blithe, slightly sappy whistler in the dark of our time. To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places--and there are so many--where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however small a way, we don't have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.
Pahirap sa buhay: Math
Friday, September 11, 2009
Sa hindi ko malamang dahilan, ipinanganak akong mahina sa math. Grabe, nung elementary hindi ako maka first honor, parati lang second kasi yung nag first ay parang calculator mag-isip.
Nung highschool napapunta ako sa science class, ang mga kaklase ko ang gagaling. Mas lalo lang nahalata ang kagalingan ko sa math. Actually kaya hindi ako nag honor nung high school dahil sumablay ang grade ko sa math nung third year. Grabe naiyak talaga ako. Gusto ngang tisurin ni mama yung teacher ko na yun. Haha!
Kaya, biyahe agad ako pa Laguna at nakipagsapalaran sa elbi.
Sa elbi, naipasa ko ang math subjects ko sa practice at dasal. Wala na akong ibang ginawa sa mga free time ko nun kundi magsolve ng algebra problems. Kaya pag nag-exam, aba, na solve ko na ito, not necessarily na naintindihan ko siya. Hahaha!
At sa di malamang pagkakataon, ang kinuha kong minor ay economics at ag econ. Matataas na economics ang kinuha ko. Yun, kulang na lang ay umikot ang mga mata ko sa mga graphs na gumagalaw. Sabi ko, ang likut-likot naman ng mga graphs na ito, bat ayaw pumirmi sa isang pwesto lang.
Naalala ko pa sa isang lecture room ng stat na may lampas isang daan ang laman, bigla na lang akong magsasalita, “Pakiulit po yung explanation, di ko po naintindihan.” Tinginan sila lahat sa akin.
Bakit ba?
Si Jaime yun na taga-devcom.
Hay, nakakatawa.
Hanggang ngayon, sa jeep pag mga may .50 na ang suklian at kailangang magmultiply ng three digits, OK na lang.
“Hijo, tama ba sukli mo?” sigaw si Manong driver. Para di na ako magcocompute, magmumukha akong busy sa diyaryo na hawak ko, at reply: “OK na ho ito”
Bakit nga ba kasi may math? Essay writing na lang.
Nung highschool napapunta ako sa science class, ang mga kaklase ko ang gagaling. Mas lalo lang nahalata ang kagalingan ko sa math. Actually kaya hindi ako nag honor nung high school dahil sumablay ang grade ko sa math nung third year. Grabe naiyak talaga ako. Gusto ngang tisurin ni mama yung teacher ko na yun. Haha!
Kaya, biyahe agad ako pa Laguna at nakipagsapalaran sa elbi.
Sa elbi, naipasa ko ang math subjects ko sa practice at dasal. Wala na akong ibang ginawa sa mga free time ko nun kundi magsolve ng algebra problems. Kaya pag nag-exam, aba, na solve ko na ito, not necessarily na naintindihan ko siya. Hahaha!
At sa di malamang pagkakataon, ang kinuha kong minor ay economics at ag econ. Matataas na economics ang kinuha ko. Yun, kulang na lang ay umikot ang mga mata ko sa mga graphs na gumagalaw. Sabi ko, ang likut-likot naman ng mga graphs na ito, bat ayaw pumirmi sa isang pwesto lang.
Naalala ko pa sa isang lecture room ng stat na may lampas isang daan ang laman, bigla na lang akong magsasalita, “Pakiulit po yung explanation, di ko po naintindihan.” Tinginan sila lahat sa akin.
Bakit ba?
Si Jaime yun na taga-devcom.
Hay, nakakatawa.
Hanggang ngayon, sa jeep pag mga may .50 na ang suklian at kailangang magmultiply ng three digits, OK na lang.
“Hijo, tama ba sukli mo?” sigaw si Manong driver. Para di na ako magcocompute, magmumukha akong busy sa diyaryo na hawak ko, at reply: “OK na ho ito”
Bakit nga ba kasi may math? Essay writing na lang.
At sea
Friday, September 4, 2009
While inside the boat going to Zamboanga from Jolo my friend saw someone in dextrose.
She was 18 years old, her mother said. She added it’s been a week since they were observing her. They thought the girl had typhoid fever. So they would be at peace, they decided to bring her to Zamboanga City.
All throughout the night the mother would wipe her with warm towel to make sure that she’s comfortable. On the other hand, the father did not sleep—walking back and forth inside the boat big enough to contain some 200 passengers.
That was a very sad scene. Imagine a girl being traveled in a boat in dextrose for 8 hours because they do not have access to a decent medical care in her province? My Muslim friend told me that the girl must be from a well-off family. Otherwise, they will just let old cures do the trick for her in Sulu.
Different images entered my mind following that scenario. What about other emergencies like giving birth? Treating contagious diseases? What about those who do not have PhP 400 for a one-way ticket to Zamboanga City? And what about those who can no longer afford to travel for 8 hours? What about them?
I stopped thinking. I did not like the images that followed.
At 4am, the boat docked in Zamboanga City port. Everybody was excited to go out of the boat. And the girl, at last, would have the chance to be treated at a decent hospital—after waiting for 8 hours.
Basic medical care is among the basic needs of humanity, and yet there are many who do not have access to it. Not just in Sulu, but in many parts of the country.
I have long been asking myself why. Why is poverty so persistent? Why is inequality so pronounced such that many have gotten used to it?
Alas, the answers must have drifted away at sea.
Preface
….Going back on me and my friends’ comfort zone
Whew! It’s good to be back. Thanks best, for welcoming me again. You really made me feel light. Well, I supposedly have a lot of stories to tell. It has been ages since I post on our blog.
A long list of things happened since July 15 (date of my last blog), I celebrated my 25th birthday, got a dinner meeting with Matell and Jaime, assisted as wedding planner for Chee and Jonas’ wedding, facilitated sports activities in the office – basketball, bowling, badminton- name it, bonding moments with my family, watched a good number of films like GI Joe, the Proposal, Up, attended a Psychogenetic Retreat, celebrated with my family on my cousin’s first birthday and my uncle’s graduation as military reserve corps, and still a lot number of things.
For sure, this would be sooo free style. My thoughts are shooting anywhere.
How will I start my post? I don’t know
What will I post? A lot of things
But how can I put in a short time? Just write
Well , I just missed my two good friends here, Matell and Jaime. The atmosphere is very very welcoming. Matell urged me to post first. And Jaime too, he wanted me to post my draft “When Anger breaks”. It is the draft I started when Jaime and I were not so “in good terms”. I told him earlier that the post will be too emotional and maybe full of angst which I believe would be unfit if I would post it.
Anyways, I missed writing here.
Perhaps, this will serve as a “preface” on the things that I would be writing soon (or simply an acknowledgement to my two good friends).
“Meet new friends. And keep the old.
One is silver and the other gold”
My nephew
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
On our way to Bicol last year we passed by the dinosaur statue along the national highway in Lucena City. My nephew who was 3 years old then said, “may kapatid yan nag school. Yung magulang niya nag work pareho kaya mag-isa lang siya.” We were all stunned by what he said. JM is turning out to be a very loving person. He is so attached with people around him.
Last long weekend, I decided to go to my brother’s house in Cabuyao where I lived for 4 years in college. Fortunately, my sister, now living in Quezon City, also decided to go there. It was like a reunion. My brother sort of missed me. It’s been a few months since I last visited him. And there was JM. He was just so happy to see us.
We did not have time to waste so I raised the idea of us going out. Just to go out. My brother agreed and in a few hours we found ourselves traveling to upper Laguna. We went to Caliraya Lake, the Japanese Garden (awesome!, very peaceful), and we ate in Kamayan in Bay. It was a splendid day. My brother also waited until I met my friends in the same place. My Ate Ping (my kitchenmate taking her MS in UPLB) celebrated her birthday last Sunday.
Then Monday came. My sister and I were busy preparing ourselves to travel back to our bases—she to QC, me to Nueva Ecija. We hugged and kissed each other, was so noisy immediately scheduling our next meeting. That was it. Time to go.
JM was all of a sudden silent. He was so snobbish. My sister-in-law said he is like that.
He hates goodbyes.
Last long weekend, I decided to go to my brother’s house in Cabuyao where I lived for 4 years in college. Fortunately, my sister, now living in Quezon City, also decided to go there. It was like a reunion. My brother sort of missed me. It’s been a few months since I last visited him. And there was JM. He was just so happy to see us.
We did not have time to waste so I raised the idea of us going out. Just to go out. My brother agreed and in a few hours we found ourselves traveling to upper Laguna. We went to Caliraya Lake, the Japanese Garden (awesome!, very peaceful), and we ate in Kamayan in Bay. It was a splendid day. My brother also waited until I met my friends in the same place. My Ate Ping (my kitchenmate taking her MS in UPLB) celebrated her birthday last Sunday.
Then Monday came. My sister and I were busy preparing ourselves to travel back to our bases—she to QC, me to Nueva Ecija. We hugged and kissed each other, was so noisy immediately scheduling our next meeting. That was it. Time to go.
JM was all of a sudden silent. He was so snobbish. My sister-in-law said he is like that.
He hates goodbyes.
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