One of the perks of this new job of mine is travel.
Travel to Manila.
I work the Philippine desk of an American firm based in Hong Kong. This job requires me to go to Manila about once a month for meetings. I've been with the Firm almost a month, so this first trip back is just about right.
I've managed to have meeting set on a Monday, so that means I can spend the weekend at home: where food cooks itself, clothes magically appear pressed and folded, and I get driven around all day.
Hmmm.... why did I move again?
Friday, September 29, 2006
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Out of Touch, Out of Time
The other day I was browsing through CNN.com and there was an article in the Entertainment section that headlined, "Fergie's Solo Album". I immediately clicked on the link. I hadn't heard that the Duchess of York was in a band, much less was venturing out on her own as a solo artist.
I hadn't heard about Sarah Ferguson's latest forays into the music industry because she doesn't have a career in showbiz (apart from being the spokesperson of Jenny Craig). The Fergie they were referring to was this hot mulatta I could not recognize to save my life.
Someone I have never heard of made it to a CNN.com Entertainment headline.
It's official: hell has frozen over. (That and I'm back to 16 hour days.)
And for those who don't know either, Fergie fronts the Black Eyed Peas.
I hadn't heard about Sarah Ferguson's latest forays into the music industry because she doesn't have a career in showbiz (apart from being the spokesperson of Jenny Craig). The Fergie they were referring to was this hot mulatta I could not recognize to save my life.
Someone I have never heard of made it to a CNN.com Entertainment headline.
It's official: hell has frozen over. (That and I'm back to 16 hour days.)
And for those who don't know either, Fergie fronts the Black Eyed Peas.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Social Sin vs. Self-Actualization
I learned about social sin back in college. If I remember correctly the concept of social sin concerns individuals participating in behavior that has become socially acceptable although morally questionable or downright wrong. Like apartheid or slavery.
By living a certain lifestyle, individuals can participate in (or commit) social sin, even without committing traditional, specific act oriented sins. The concept of social sin goes into the social dimension of each of our actions. Everything we do affects other people and vice versa.
I know, I know... this stuff is not for everyone. But I grew up reading Thomas Aquinas and I actually believe most of this.
Self-actualization is a concept made popular by Maslow. You know, the hierarchy of needs guy. And if that doesn't ring a bell, please remind me why we're friends.
According to Maslow, self-actualization is the highest level of human development. Something attainable only after your basic physiological and emotional requirements have been fulfilled. It is what people strive for after they have the attained a certain level of status; self-esteem.
Now you might ask, so what brought these ideas into the frontal lobe of your little brain, Jona?
The answer: I went house hunting today.
I went to check out serviced apartments with the Firm's appointed realtor, Y. Y. is a short, pushy, noisy Chinese lady. I love that Y is on my side.
Rent in Hong Kong is exorbitant. Much higher than in New York (my only other first world reference for rent). A 700-900 square feet (70-90 square meters) one bedroom goes from anywhere between HK$ 22,000-35,000 (that's about USD3,200-4,500 or P165,000-over P220,000).
Yes, I know. It's crazy.
Y. has taken me around the island a few times since I got here, showing me the low-end places as well as the unbelievably high-end ones. After a while, they all look alike. But today, I walked into an apartment I felt I just had to live in. To say that it was luxurious is an understatement. Sarah Jessica Parker could live there. No. Gwyneth Paltrow. No. Michelle Pfeiffer.
I'm not really the glitz and glamour type, but this apartment reeked of success. You had to be someone to live there. And I want to be that someone.
I've worked hard in school and even harder the first few years of practice. I think it's time for me to step up and live a lifestyle I've always wanted and can now afford. I deserve to live in a beautiful apartment. Plus with the Firm's housing allowance, I can actually afford to live in a beautiful apartment.
But should I?
If I live in the showcase apartment, would I then be falling into the abyss of materialism and consumerism? Would I be permanently putting a magnet to my inner compass? Is this the start of a life I never wanted? I've always looked at materialistic people with pity. I feel sorry for them since they've lost all sense of what's important in life. All they want to do is acquire. As if having expensive things makes you better than everyone else. And if you think that, well, that's just silly.
But then I think I could be living in this:
By living a certain lifestyle, individuals can participate in (or commit) social sin, even without committing traditional, specific act oriented sins. The concept of social sin goes into the social dimension of each of our actions. Everything we do affects other people and vice versa.
I know, I know... this stuff is not for everyone. But I grew up reading Thomas Aquinas and I actually believe most of this.
Self-actualization is a concept made popular by Maslow. You know, the hierarchy of needs guy. And if that doesn't ring a bell, please remind me why we're friends.
According to Maslow, self-actualization is the highest level of human development. Something attainable only after your basic physiological and emotional requirements have been fulfilled. It is what people strive for after they have the attained a certain level of status; self-esteem.
Now you might ask, so what brought these ideas into the frontal lobe of your little brain, Jona?
The answer: I went house hunting today.
I went to check out serviced apartments with the Firm's appointed realtor, Y. Y. is a short, pushy, noisy Chinese lady. I love that Y is on my side.
Rent in Hong Kong is exorbitant. Much higher than in New York (my only other first world reference for rent). A 700-900 square feet (70-90 square meters) one bedroom goes from anywhere between HK$ 22,000-35,000 (that's about USD3,200-4,500 or P165,000-over P220,000).
Yes, I know. It's crazy.
Y. has taken me around the island a few times since I got here, showing me the low-end places as well as the unbelievably high-end ones. After a while, they all look alike. But today, I walked into an apartment I felt I just had to live in. To say that it was luxurious is an understatement. Sarah Jessica Parker could live there. No. Gwyneth Paltrow. No. Michelle Pfeiffer.
I'm not really the glitz and glamour type, but this apartment reeked of success. You had to be someone to live there. And I want to be that someone.
I've worked hard in school and even harder the first few years of practice. I think it's time for me to step up and live a lifestyle I've always wanted and can now afford. I deserve to live in a beautiful apartment. Plus with the Firm's housing allowance, I can actually afford to live in a beautiful apartment.
But should I?
If I live in the showcase apartment, would I then be falling into the abyss of materialism and consumerism? Would I be permanently putting a magnet to my inner compass? Is this the start of a life I never wanted? I've always looked at materialistic people with pity. I feel sorry for them since they've lost all sense of what's important in life. All they want to do is acquire. As if having expensive things makes you better than everyone else. And if you think that, well, that's just silly.
But then I think I could be living in this:
Monday, September 18, 2006
Weekend Report
My first weekend after joining the Firm was spent at work. I was in before 10 and was hacking away at the document I was ordered to hack. Hack into what is really of no consequence. Work is work. And my coming in on my first weekend was no surprise.
After you've spent some years doing the same thing, you get an idea of how a 300 page document is supposed to flow. How the provisions fall into each other, like a well designed clock.
Oh, and I painted this.
After you've spent some years doing the same thing, you get an idea of how a 300 page document is supposed to flow. How the provisions fall into each other, like a well designed clock.
Oh, and I painted this.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
The View From The Top
This is what I see when I look out my office window:
Pasensya na, I've never had a window room in my life.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Being the New Guy
I hate being the new guy at the office. The new guy has no friends, no people to have lunch with. The one who is always getting lost on her way to the pantry or the copy machine. The one who asks too many questions on how to retrieve or save a document. The one who smiles at everyone but has no idea what people's names are.
The new guy is dressed too well. Always comes in before everybody else, but gets to go home early. The new guy has a sparkling clean office. Gets taken out to lunch by all the partners on her first week. The new guy gets one of the newly issued computers, just because she's new, even if everyone else has put in a request weeks before.
You can't talk office politics in front of the new guy, you don't know her. You have to be nice to her, otherwise she might freak out and quit like the last dozen new guys.
God I hate the new guy.
The new guy is dressed too well. Always comes in before everybody else, but gets to go home early. The new guy has a sparkling clean office. Gets taken out to lunch by all the partners on her first week. The new guy gets one of the newly issued computers, just because she's new, even if everyone else has put in a request weeks before.
You can't talk office politics in front of the new guy, you don't know her. You have to be nice to her, otherwise she might freak out and quit like the last dozen new guys.
God I hate the new guy.
Monday, September 11, 2006
My First Day of Work
As with most things in life, my first day of work at The Firm was not as remarkable as I thought it would be. I came in too early, sat through 6 hours of orientation, met a lot of new people, set-up my e-mail account, made a couple of calls and then went home.
To celebrate, I went to this hole in the wall and ordered myself half a roast duck. It was superb, but I had three pieces then was too suya to eat anymore. Been drinking hot water since 8 to melt away all that fatty goodness.
A few things worth noting: I have a kick ass view of The Peak and a fruit basket the size of a mini cooper parked on my desk. I guess I'm having fruit for lunch for the rest of the week. I also have my name on the door. There's something about that whole name-on-the-door business. Makes you feel important, like your occupancy of that space is worth printing a metal nameplate for.
On the train ride back to the serviced apartment I call home I looked at the other weary travellers and thought,
"Man, that guy in the blue shirt is cute."
To celebrate, I went to this hole in the wall and ordered myself half a roast duck. It was superb, but I had three pieces then was too suya to eat anymore. Been drinking hot water since 8 to melt away all that fatty goodness.
A few things worth noting: I have a kick ass view of The Peak and a fruit basket the size of a mini cooper parked on my desk. I guess I'm having fruit for lunch for the rest of the week. I also have my name on the door. There's something about that whole name-on-the-door business. Makes you feel important, like your occupancy of that space is worth printing a metal nameplate for.
On the train ride back to the serviced apartment I call home I looked at the other weary travellers and thought,
"Man, that guy in the blue shirt is cute."
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Out For A Walk
In HK, people drive on the left side of the road. It is a pretty simple concept. Keep left. The thing is, retards who come from places where they drive on the right side of the road cannot seem to latch on the idea. So to avoid stupid people like me from getting plowed down by a speeding car, the government of HK has deemed it wise to paint signs on the road such as this:
I went walking around Sheung Wan today, the district where my serviced apartment is located, the place I will call home for about 4 weeks. Went to a couple of temples (didn't take pictures, I have this thing about not taking pictures in other people's places of worship) and a couple of parks.
Throughout my walk I thought: 1) Man, this place sure is hilly; and 2) Hong Kong really is China, with some western influences. Narrow street after narrow street I saw Chinamen plying their trades (noodle makers, coffin makers, antique sellers). You name the Chinese trade, they had it. Furniture craftmen, stationeries, incense makers.
I always thought HK was this really cosmopolitan town teeming with expats. And it is, to some extent, but it's really more of a quite Chinese trading center. Which is how it really was, before the Brits came.
Before heading home I came across a shop the piqued my curiousity. I took a picture:
Saturday, September 09, 2006
You're On Your Own, Kid
After you use them, dishes need to be washed. Food does not cook itself. Clothes need to be laundered. You need to walk to the curb to get a taxi or to the train station to catch the MTR.
Then there's all this waiting. Things don't just lie and wait around for you all day. You queue up for the bus, you wait at the bank, the dry cleaners, the grocery.
I seem to vaguely remember all these things from my NY stint a few years ago. But somehow the almost 3 years back home made me forget all about living on your own. I still know how to cook, thankfully. But just thinking about the laundry I need to do by the end of the week makes me depressed. Then there's grocery shopping (I really really hate this one) and the hours spent doing a multitude of errands other people used to do for me before.
When I get depressed like this I turn on my 42" Plasma TV, glance at my view of the water and think happy thoughts.
Then there's all this waiting. Things don't just lie and wait around for you all day. You queue up for the bus, you wait at the bank, the dry cleaners, the grocery.
I seem to vaguely remember all these things from my NY stint a few years ago. But somehow the almost 3 years back home made me forget all about living on your own. I still know how to cook, thankfully. But just thinking about the laundry I need to do by the end of the week makes me depressed. Then there's grocery shopping (I really really hate this one) and the hours spent doing a multitude of errands other people used to do for me before.
When I get depressed like this I turn on my 42" Plasma TV, glance at my view of the water and think happy thoughts.
Friday, September 08, 2006
The First Day of the Rest of My Life
A young man in a bad suit held a cardboard sign with my name on it. He takes my bags and weaves me through the Hong Kong airport, to an exit with a row of shiny Benzes on the curb. He opens the door to one of them and motions for me to get in. I do. The young man puts my bags in the trunk. The driver appears shortly, greeting me by handing me a bottle of mineral water. I take it.
He drives fast and after a very impressive system of suspension bridges and tunnels, I am delivered to my new doorstep. A serviced apartment by the water. I have only one thought as I check-in: God I hope The Firm got me a two bedroom with a view of the water. Please God. The man at the front desk walks me through the housekeeping rules. The gym is on the fourth floor. He hands me my keys. I pocket them.
Bellhop was on a break so I had to take my luggage up. Each maleta weighed 30 kilos. I paid $35 in fees to get them here. I push and heave and drag. Finally I get to my room at the end of the hall. 801.
I swing the door open. Two bedrooms.
I leave my bags at the door and look out the window. Water.
He drives fast and after a very impressive system of suspension bridges and tunnels, I am delivered to my new doorstep. A serviced apartment by the water. I have only one thought as I check-in: God I hope The Firm got me a two bedroom with a view of the water. Please God. The man at the front desk walks me through the housekeeping rules. The gym is on the fourth floor. He hands me my keys. I pocket them.
Bellhop was on a break so I had to take my luggage up. Each maleta weighed 30 kilos. I paid $35 in fees to get them here. I push and heave and drag. Finally I get to my room at the end of the hall. 801.
I swing the door open. Two bedrooms.
I leave my bags at the door and look out the window. Water.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Time's Up
After 13 weeks of naps, novels, movies, three hour lunches and four hour coffee breaks, my vacation is finally coming to an end. I fly out on Friday. Now that the move is imminent, those 3 months seem to have sprinted by.
Funny how time plays tricks with the mind. I thought that the first four weeks would be the death of me. I was waiting to find out if The Feerm would make me an offer. Everyday of June was like an entire week. I was literally crossing days off a calendar, like an inmate making etchings for each day in his cell.
Things loosened up in July. I knew I got the job, so that part of me was settled. I went on a movie marathon, slept a whole lot, gained weight. It was fun, but by the end of July I was getting restless again. I wanted to start working. I remember by week 8 I was climbing the walls. I'd do silly chores to fill my day. (You will be happy to note that my shoe rack has been arranged by color, then re-arranged by frequency of use) Today though, with the big move only days away, all those weeks spent at home watching movies and napping seem like just one whole long lazy afternoon.
I want to look back at this break and remember it was restfull and stress-free. And to a large extent it really was. It was when I started going to the gym, a practice that eventually made me go back to my college weight. (God, I hope I can say this by year's end.) It was a time I spent with friends (a record 7-hour brunch at Pancake House, whimsical trips to Tagaytay) and just hanging out with the parental units.
This break will probably be the last one I will have in a long time. I think that if I tried harder, I would have been able to make a more efficient use of my time. I could have started drawing again, I could have read more books, maybe even taken a trip. But overall, I think I did pretty well for myself. I started this blog, I watched 50 movies, integrated exercise into my daily routine and have I mentioned that my shoe rack is the bomb?
Funny how time plays tricks with the mind. I thought that the first four weeks would be the death of me. I was waiting to find out if The Feerm would make me an offer. Everyday of June was like an entire week. I was literally crossing days off a calendar, like an inmate making etchings for each day in his cell.
Things loosened up in July. I knew I got the job, so that part of me was settled. I went on a movie marathon, slept a whole lot, gained weight. It was fun, but by the end of July I was getting restless again. I wanted to start working. I remember by week 8 I was climbing the walls. I'd do silly chores to fill my day. (You will be happy to note that my shoe rack has been arranged by color, then re-arranged by frequency of use) Today though, with the big move only days away, all those weeks spent at home watching movies and napping seem like just one whole long lazy afternoon.
I want to look back at this break and remember it was restfull and stress-free. And to a large extent it really was. It was when I started going to the gym, a practice that eventually made me go back to my college weight. (God, I hope I can say this by year's end.) It was a time I spent with friends (a record 7-hour brunch at Pancake House, whimsical trips to Tagaytay) and just hanging out with the parental units.
This break will probably be the last one I will have in a long time. I think that if I tried harder, I would have been able to make a more efficient use of my time. I could have started drawing again, I could have read more books, maybe even taken a trip. But overall, I think I did pretty well for myself. I started this blog, I watched 50 movies, integrated exercise into my daily routine and have I mentioned that my shoe rack is the bomb?
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Karaoke Lists
If you haven't figured it out by now, I am one very competitive creature. Everything is a game to me, and I need to win. This philosophy includes evenings dedicated to karaoke.
In the "Saved Messages" folder of my mobile phone is a list of songs I have mastered. Songs I have sung again and again during previous drunken open mic nights. Songs I regularly sing while taking a shower. Songs whose lyrics I know from beginning to end. (By the way, knowing the lyrics to a song is key when showing off at karaoke. You need to look at the audience and emote. No time to read the screen at crucial moments.)
Right now my list includes:
Only Hope (Mandy Moore)
Unwell (Matchbox 20)
Take This Love (Sergio Mendes)
Please Don't Throw This Love Away (Martin Nievera)
Don't Know What to Say (Ric Segretto)
I know, I know, ang baduy ko. Ako ay sbaduy. Saksakan ng baduy. But hey, these tunes score me 100's!
My nephew P. has a karaoke list of his own. Right now his list consists of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Baa Baa Black Sheep, Happy Birthday and I've Been Working on the Railroad (first two lines only).
He's at that age (2 and a half) when you ask him to sing and he breaks into song like Placido Domingo getting over laryngitis. P. is a rock star. He sings Happy Birthday every time he sees a flame (not even a candle). He breaks into Baa Baa Black Sheep as soon as you say, "P., can you sing B..."
The thing is though that P. doesn't know the words to most of his songs. He's got the melody down pat, but the words get mixed up. When he's old enough (in a few months), I will teach him the finer points of scoring well at karaoke.
In the "Saved Messages" folder of my mobile phone is a list of songs I have mastered. Songs I have sung again and again during previous drunken open mic nights. Songs I regularly sing while taking a shower. Songs whose lyrics I know from beginning to end. (By the way, knowing the lyrics to a song is key when showing off at karaoke. You need to look at the audience and emote. No time to read the screen at crucial moments.)
Right now my list includes:
Only Hope (Mandy Moore)
Unwell (Matchbox 20)
Take This Love (Sergio Mendes)
Please Don't Throw This Love Away (Martin Nievera)
Don't Know What to Say (Ric Segretto)
I know, I know, ang baduy ko. Ako ay sbaduy. Saksakan ng baduy. But hey, these tunes score me 100's!
x x x
My nephew P. has a karaoke list of his own. Right now his list consists of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Baa Baa Black Sheep, Happy Birthday and I've Been Working on the Railroad (first two lines only).
He's at that age (2 and a half) when you ask him to sing and he breaks into song like Placido Domingo getting over laryngitis. P. is a rock star. He sings Happy Birthday every time he sees a flame (not even a candle). He breaks into Baa Baa Black Sheep as soon as you say, "P., can you sing B..."
The thing is though that P. doesn't know the words to most of his songs. He's got the melody down pat, but the words get mixed up. When he's old enough (in a few months), I will teach him the finer points of scoring well at karaoke.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
In the News
Two weeks ago a bunch of astronomers got together and said that Pluto is no longer a planet. I didn't know they could do that. I didn't know that deciding whether a planet was a planet was something that could be done by consensus. Like a bunch of botanists can huddle in a room for six days and then say a carrot is no longer a vegetable.
Philosophical Jona thought about the impermanence and relativity of everything. If Pluto's no longer a planet, then maybe one day Disneyland will no longer be the Happiest Place on Earth. I also thought about the supremacy of man over the universe. If people decide what a planet is, did they decide to make-up the idea of a higher being as well?
I mulled these thoughts over for about 20 seconds (each thought naman). Then I turned to the more pressing task at hand: with Pluto no longer a planet, how are students supposed to memorize the sequence of the cellestial bodies with the time honored mnemonic device:
My
Very
Educated
Mother
Just
Served
Us
Nine
Papayas
How?!?! Tell me, how?!
And so I came up with.... tada!
My
Very
Educated
Mother
Just
Served
Us
Nilaga
I admit it's a little folky, but it works.
Philosophical Jona thought about the impermanence and relativity of everything. If Pluto's no longer a planet, then maybe one day Disneyland will no longer be the Happiest Place on Earth. I also thought about the supremacy of man over the universe. If people decide what a planet is, did they decide to make-up the idea of a higher being as well?
I mulled these thoughts over for about 20 seconds (each thought naman). Then I turned to the more pressing task at hand: with Pluto no longer a planet, how are students supposed to memorize the sequence of the cellestial bodies with the time honored mnemonic device:
My
Very
Educated
Mother
Just
Served
Us
Nine
Papayas
How?!?! Tell me, how?!
And so I came up with.... tada!
My
Very
Educated
Mother
Just
Served
Us
Nilaga
I admit it's a little folky, but it works.
Monday, September 04, 2006
The Good People of San Juan
Over cold cuts and a pitcher of vodka with some orange juice, G., R., and I discussed the ethics of cyber snooping. Well, it was more of me asking about the ethics of cyber snooping and G. and R. (my favorite married couple) fielding my questions.
You see, until recently I've been indulging my curiousity over other people's lives: I've been looking into other people's websites. Blogger, Multiply, Friendster, MySpace, Live Journal. You name it.
As with most things, it started off as completely innocent. Looking up old friends and then browsing through their friends to see if a long-lost college drinking buddy has re-surfaced (he hasn't).
But then I discovered links. People link other sites to their own and typically, the connections are based on meaningful relationships. Current lovers, former classmates, etc. You can get to know a person not only from his/her site, but from the sites he/she links to. It's like making a web of someone else's life from the patches you get on-line. Like a jigsaw puzzle. It is fascinating. It is also addictive.
I got burned a couple of weeks ago when I got "caught" snooping by a friend of a friend. It was for my own good. I needed a wake-up call from this silly (although potentially dangerous) game I was playing.
So there I was last night, trying to convince R. and G. that my intentions were innocent. That my desire to know more about people was borne out of sheer curiousity, not out of some maniacal desire to steal other people's identities.
They both looked at me like I was guilty as sin. I had another cold cut.
And just when I thought R. and G. were going to condemn me as a cyber stalker, they gave me tips on how not to get caught snooping. They recommended getting a second browser, never logging into anything and for best results, creating a fictional person with a fictional blog (back date for believability) and let's not forget the fictional friends.
Ok, so maybe that last one is a little scary....
You see, until recently I've been indulging my curiousity over other people's lives: I've been looking into other people's websites. Blogger, Multiply, Friendster, MySpace, Live Journal. You name it.
As with most things, it started off as completely innocent. Looking up old friends and then browsing through their friends to see if a long-lost college drinking buddy has re-surfaced (he hasn't).
But then I discovered links. People link other sites to their own and typically, the connections are based on meaningful relationships. Current lovers, former classmates, etc. You can get to know a person not only from his/her site, but from the sites he/she links to. It's like making a web of someone else's life from the patches you get on-line. Like a jigsaw puzzle. It is fascinating. It is also addictive.
I got burned a couple of weeks ago when I got "caught" snooping by a friend of a friend. It was for my own good. I needed a wake-up call from this silly (although potentially dangerous) game I was playing.
So there I was last night, trying to convince R. and G. that my intentions were innocent. That my desire to know more about people was borne out of sheer curiousity, not out of some maniacal desire to steal other people's identities.
They both looked at me like I was guilty as sin. I had another cold cut.
And just when I thought R. and G. were going to condemn me as a cyber stalker, they gave me tips on how not to get caught snooping. They recommended getting a second browser, never logging into anything and for best results, creating a fictional person with a fictional blog (back date for believability) and let's not forget the fictional friends.
Ok, so maybe that last one is a little scary....
Recovering From Heart Disease
DISCLAIMER: An aborted romantic tryst is not the only way to get your heart broken. Like skinning a kitten, there are many ways to break your heart.
My heart is broken. It doesn’t really matter who broke it, or the circumstances surrounding the injuries sustained by my vascular organ. These things have been discussed thoroughly and extensively in several post-mortems with S. and A.
I also won’t get into the sadness or the hollowness one feels as a result of getting hurt this way. Volumes of sonnets have been written about this. I think one of every four songs was composed during this state of mind.
And then there’s the recovery process. Won’t talk about that either. It’s different for everybody. My process involves copious amounts of alcohol and several disjointed journal entries.
What I do want to express is the helplessness. No, not a kawawa helplessness, puh-lease. I’m talking about the incapacity to alter the current state of affairs. The simple truth is that things are not in my hands. I gave it a shot, but life being the way it is, things did not turn out the way I wanted them to. I can’t do anything to change that.
And when I get that little nugget of truth into my little nugget of a brain, I’ll stop gnawing at the past with my “what ifs” and “what could have beens”.
Because that, I can do.
My heart is broken. It doesn’t really matter who broke it, or the circumstances surrounding the injuries sustained by my vascular organ. These things have been discussed thoroughly and extensively in several post-mortems with S. and A.
I also won’t get into the sadness or the hollowness one feels as a result of getting hurt this way. Volumes of sonnets have been written about this. I think one of every four songs was composed during this state of mind.
And then there’s the recovery process. Won’t talk about that either. It’s different for everybody. My process involves copious amounts of alcohol and several disjointed journal entries.
What I do want to express is the helplessness. No, not a kawawa helplessness, puh-lease. I’m talking about the incapacity to alter the current state of affairs. The simple truth is that things are not in my hands. I gave it a shot, but life being the way it is, things did not turn out the way I wanted them to. I can’t do anything to change that.
And when I get that little nugget of truth into my little nugget of a brain, I’ll stop gnawing at the past with my “what ifs” and “what could have beens”.
Because that, I can do.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Ber Ber
I'm pretty sure I will hear a "ber-ber" comment at least 3 times today.
"Naku, ang bilis ng panahon. Ber-ber na."
"Ber-ber na. Pasko na."
"Ber-ber na, traffic na naman sigarado."
Today is the first day of the "ber months" -- the last four months of the year. Filipinos are crazy about the ber months. Filipinos attribute all the joys (and all the ills) of the Christmas season on the ber months, as if September 1 does in fact advent the coming of December 25. Traffic jams, expenses, year-end bonuses, parties. All these seem to occur more frequently during the ber months.
I notice that the Christmas season seems to get longer every year. A few weeks ago I was at a mall and noticed that a Christmas tree was out, all decked out in full battle regalia. (Gold is back this year, people.) Maybe next year we won't have "Back to School" season anymore. We'll go straight from summer to Christmas.
Personally, I like the ber months because the rain stops, the days cool and the nights become still.
"Naku, ang bilis ng panahon. Ber-ber na."
"Ber-ber na. Pasko na."
"Ber-ber na, traffic na naman sigarado."
Today is the first day of the "ber months" -- the last four months of the year. Filipinos are crazy about the ber months. Filipinos attribute all the joys (and all the ills) of the Christmas season on the ber months, as if September 1 does in fact advent the coming of December 25. Traffic jams, expenses, year-end bonuses, parties. All these seem to occur more frequently during the ber months.
I notice that the Christmas season seems to get longer every year. A few weeks ago I was at a mall and noticed that a Christmas tree was out, all decked out in full battle regalia. (Gold is back this year, people.) Maybe next year we won't have "Back to School" season anymore. We'll go straight from summer to Christmas.
Personally, I like the ber months because the rain stops, the days cool and the nights become still.
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