This morning, I felt like slitting my throat. No pun intended. I was so annoyed that the most logical thing to do was cry and stop where I was standing, and hope that the world stops turning as well. It’s so damned irritating. First, I got up really early. Since its Monday, I believe every single one of us is expected to report in time for work. There’s nothing wrong with that. Besides over the past few months I have been unlearning my style in the government where I used to dictate my own schedule. There you go. But the thing is – I had to travel five hours from the province to Manila just so I won’t have a “late” on my DTR. Now what will you do if the bus driver happens to be a class A, over the top, superkaduper heckler??? He is so pestering. Because you know why? He speaks so loud. No, he shouts all the time. At one point, I overhear him mock some passengers: tatanga tanga, palibhasa mga bagong salta. And then off he laughed like he’s the only one inside the bus. Didn’t he ever realize that if he thinks he is that good, then why the hell is he driving a lowly BUS? (Not just a poor one, but the most hated of the buses in our province. I just don’t have a choice. That’s why) Why not drive his own car. Of all people, I hate it when I had to bear with monsters.
Anyways, when I’m about to reach Manila, I was hoping that Jun told me the exact location where I can get easily to my destination. (Cant totally blame my husband either, because I am just so hopeless when it comes to directions. I am a walking disaster at that.) Imagine, I alighted to a place only to be told that I w as way too far from the LRT where I must take. You can actually visualize the blood rising through my brain and the burden I had was not just on a mental level. My goodness, I’ve suffering from excessive dry coughing for weeks. And look, I was carrying two huge bags plus an umbrella (the long one.). Whoa. This is something, I told myself. Something to be suicidal about. While coughing madly, I was suppressing my tears from flowing. Until finally I managed to hail a taxi, I thought I reversed my jinx. Hell, no – it was meant to give me a hard time. This went on. And I hate it. I was lost on the way to work, wasted my precious time, got tired. Now, I can only recall what a bad morning it was. I was late by 17 minutes. But its done. So thank God. I’m alive!
Monday, September 24, 2007
Saturday, September 15, 2007
“Give this a title, I can’t think of any”
Did I mention before that I’m a total disaster when it comes to writing? This is weird because my discipline has a lot to do with the written communication. Perhaps when I was in college, I was so busy thinking of where to get my transportation allowance from our village to my alma mater on the next day. Result? I ended up teaching it. (lol) Result number two? I ended up marrying a writer!
Anyways, I want to talk about the road to being successful or the attempt of many to enlighten us on this. Much has been written and said about it. In fact, next to love – I think it’s among the most commonly abused words. But let me define it in my own terms. Not necessarily circumscribe ala Merriam, or Wikipedia style – maybe, say something about. (See, I was positive a medical practitioner can diagnose me with ADHD. Meaning, my memory flutters so fast from one topic to another that I had to catch them one by one). I grew up in a small, poor village located in the Bicol region. As you might probably have known, the region is popular for two of its provinces being on the top ten with the highest poverty incidence in the country. Yet despite its ugly reputation – I can still vividly remember my childhood and teenage days with all candor. My father is a palay farmer who used to tend a half-hectare land given to him by my grandparents when he married my mother. Every summer, we were among the children who’d play games barefoot in our Tatay’s uma. We would also help Nanay sell her deliciously-cooked pansit, softdrinks and tinapay to the paraani. My siblings and I weren’t afraid of getting our clothes soiled. I think it was typical for barrio children to think that way. Even after school when my feet would perspire while on the way home, I’d prefer to walk minus my step-in. No one is looking anyway. The barrio I live before was not as populated as it is today. Our house then was built in an area near a meandering creek. One time, Tatay went on summoning all my strength as he smash me with his panlatob. I took three or four hours taking a bath in the creek with my cousins. It was his rule that we don’t take a bath on it. I was so carefree not to mind about the spanking that follows every trip to the kali (local term for “creek”). Not even if Nanay warn us we’ll get buni or that leeches are all over to feast on our blood! Those were the days. And until now, I can’t help but laugh remembering them. My cousins and I imagined it was a swimming pool we’re into and not a creek that sometimes had “yellow submarine” floating in it.
Anyways, I want to talk about the road to being successful or the attempt of many to enlighten us on this. Much has been written and said about it. In fact, next to love – I think it’s among the most commonly abused words. But let me define it in my own terms. Not necessarily circumscribe ala Merriam, or Wikipedia style – maybe, say something about. (See, I was positive a medical practitioner can diagnose me with ADHD. Meaning, my memory flutters so fast from one topic to another that I had to catch them one by one). I grew up in a small, poor village located in the Bicol region. As you might probably have known, the region is popular for two of its provinces being on the top ten with the highest poverty incidence in the country. Yet despite its ugly reputation – I can still vividly remember my childhood and teenage days with all candor. My father is a palay farmer who used to tend a half-hectare land given to him by my grandparents when he married my mother. Every summer, we were among the children who’d play games barefoot in our Tatay’s uma. We would also help Nanay sell her deliciously-cooked pansit, softdrinks and tinapay to the paraani. My siblings and I weren’t afraid of getting our clothes soiled. I think it was typical for barrio children to think that way. Even after school when my feet would perspire while on the way home, I’d prefer to walk minus my step-in. No one is looking anyway. The barrio I live before was not as populated as it is today. Our house then was built in an area near a meandering creek. One time, Tatay went on summoning all my strength as he smash me with his panlatob. I took three or four hours taking a bath in the creek with my cousins. It was his rule that we don’t take a bath on it. I was so carefree not to mind about the spanking that follows every trip to the kali (local term for “creek”). Not even if Nanay warn us we’ll get buni or that leeches are all over to feast on our blood! Those were the days. And until now, I can’t help but laugh remembering them. My cousins and I imagined it was a swimming pool we’re into and not a creek that sometimes had “yellow submarine” floating in it.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Reflections in September
A friend texted me an anecdote I love reading. Here it goes:
"A sailor is stuck in an island where he is the only surivor. He made a hut for shelter, day and night he prayed and waited for someone to rescue him. But no one came. He stored foods in the hut for his survival, but one day the hut burned to ashes and he had nothing left. He was so angry and said: God why have you done this to me? The next day, rescuers came and he asked: how did you know that I am here? They replied, we saw a smoke signal. Then he realized that when his hut is burning, something good was happening. Surely, God will make a way!"
I was especially touched with the last line. Many times, in many ways -- God has shown His love for me. I can no longer recall how many times did he save me, and blessed me with all abundance there is. Just like the past few months. Nanakawan nga ako dati ng malaking pera. Pero ang kapalit naman, magandang trabaho, malaking oportunidad para mas maging produktibo.
(To be continued)
"A sailor is stuck in an island where he is the only surivor. He made a hut for shelter, day and night he prayed and waited for someone to rescue him. But no one came. He stored foods in the hut for his survival, but one day the hut burned to ashes and he had nothing left. He was so angry and said: God why have you done this to me? The next day, rescuers came and he asked: how did you know that I am here? They replied, we saw a smoke signal. Then he realized that when his hut is burning, something good was happening. Surely, God will make a way!"
I was especially touched with the last line. Many times, in many ways -- God has shown His love for me. I can no longer recall how many times did he save me, and blessed me with all abundance there is. Just like the past few months. Nanakawan nga ako dati ng malaking pera. Pero ang kapalit naman, magandang trabaho, malaking oportunidad para mas maging produktibo.
(To be continued)
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