Thursday

Two things happened today. Fire and a phone call. Unrelated, by the way.

I was making pancakes this morning when I noticed an unusual amount of noise coming from the streets. I went outside when I heard sirens to see what the ruckus was all about. There was a fire across the street. A huge pillar of smoke (what I’d imagine the column of fire to look like from the Moses’ time) was coming from behind the building, and from my house I could feel the emanating heat. Firemen were climbing up ladders with their hoses to get a better view of the fire. People were gathering outside my house to get a better view.

They eventually put out the fire, but the smoke had cooled down and blanketed our compound. We closed the windows and filtered our mouths with our shirts. Then the power went out.

This afternoon I got a phone call from IBM. They weren’t offering me a position, but were notifying me of a phone interview with an account manager on Monday. I informed them that I signed with another company, and they said to call them back if anything happens because that was supposed to be the final interview.

I don't regret my decision (yet. I know I’ll regret it every morning when I fight through traffic), but I still wonder if I made the right decision. Everyone I talked to said to take the research job, but IBM just seemed so much more convenient and friendlier. And in the pro/con list I made, I gave the most importance to the job description, when really I don’t really care what I do. But I assure you, I’m confident I made the right decision.

It’s strange. I’ve been stressed out about this job thing for the last month. I anxiously wait for phone calls and have long conversations with people about my possible future. I lose sleep at night and lose my appetite. People try to reassure me that God will take care of me, and that I shouldn’t worry about the future. But then days like this happen, where a calamity strikes. Not to me, but to those around me. A sister, or parent will pass away, or a fire will erupt across your street. The aftermath is horrendous. I walked outside when it was all over, and saw people with what’s left of their possessions straddling the side of the road, wiping away their tears.

I don’t know what conclusion I’m trying to end at. Everything I want to say seems shallow and self-centered compared to what I witnessed earlier. My problems, my worries are temporary. I had two jobs lined up in front of me and I’m losing sleep over it, while there will be people tonight who won’t even have a place to sleep. Sigh

Conclusion

Apparently in my last blog post my ratings were off. An overwhelming majority of the people I talk to have ISS over IBM. I just hope I'm offered the job. And I hope my body clock can adjust to waking up at 6AM every morning.

ISS or IBM?

Hypothetically, if I was accepted to both ISS and IBM, which one would I choose?

When I was in high school Mr. Moore lectured about decision making and about the process of enumerating pros and cons. In college we learned to make decisions by quantifying those pros and cons and assigning a weight to each. (Proximity may weigh more heavily in person A's eyes than in person B's.) Let me start over. We each have something we look for in a job. It could be the salary, the prestige, or even the benefits. These are your desires and you assign a value to each according to their importance. We have options, for me it's ISS and IBM. Now we rate the likelihood that my desires will be met if I chose company A over company B. Here's what it looks like.

Simply put, ISS is more prestigious, the work is more challenging, and it won't disrupt with my normal schedule. IBM on the other hand is closer, and I won't have to deal with rush hour. It looks like ISS outweighs IBM. Oh wait, I forgot to include that ISS is a temp job that does not guarantee I'll be regularized.

doh....

Judging

I'm wondering what I'm allowed to post on this blog and what should be kept private.

It disturbs me when people say I'm a good person. Or that Christians/Protestants are all good people. I have a friend who doesn't share the same value of sobriety as me. Whereas my values come from my family and my involvement at church, his lack of value for sobriety stems from his value for socializing. Though you may think that one value outweighs the other, you have to account for other circumstances because it can also relate to other areas of your life. For instance, I'm not a sociable guy and I don't have that many close friends, but my friend influences the lives of his friends for the better because of his gift and his value in getting along and meeting new people. Who's to say he's not the better man for the good he's responsible for? No one is perfect and no one is good. It disturbs me when we discriminate amongst ourselves and become judges with evil thoughts.

Ebooks

When I had my interview with the ebook publishing company they told me some information about the conversion process. For classics they scan the book then with a conversion tool convert the text into editable letters. The process is 99% accurate, translated be 5 errors every 20 pages (approximately). The company checks for errors to push the accuracy rate to 99.5%, or 1 error for every 20 pages (approximately). They don't check every page, they check random pages because there are hundreds of books, each with a hundred different pages. If you take a random sample, you should get an accuracy figure which you can base your quality on.

I'm reading the book Shades of Grey by Jasper Fforde and I've come across a bunch of dumb errors. The main one I found is the collapsing of words, so instead of "all hope of believability was gone forever," it reads as "all hope of believabilitywasgone forever." Another error I found, which was obviously from the conversion program is the use of "ex- cited" instead of "excited." You can tell that the word was broken to fit the next line.

I could've been doing this for a living.

Gogogo

I didn't blog yesterday because I had supper at my Tito and Tita's house. When I got home my internet wasn't working so I wasn't able to blog.

A Canadian missionary named Trent came along and we bought an ice cream cake from Trinoma. And then we made the terrible decision of taking a cab to Project 4. It was a bad decision because we had a bad driver that claimed he didn't know his way around Project 4. We had to direct him on which way to go. We end up taking terribly long routes and making U-turns, and it was just a bad experience. I don't like taxing around Manila. It's no fun.

Basketball League

I don't like playing basketball. I'm usually placed at center because of my height and my reach. I don't mind this position because I don't have to guard anyone aggressively, instead all I have to do is stand in the paint and throw my hands straight up. Unfortunately this is there position where guy charge at you. So by the end of the game you have a layer of other people's sweat on you, and a number of bruises on your abdomen. But apparently, I'm good at this. I just have to make sure I don't move my hands a lot or else I'll foul out like I did in my first game.

Today we had our fourth match. Black vs Red. Both undefeated teams. But we were at a major disadvantage. The day before the game we found out that half our team couldn't make it to the game. We were playing with six players to our opponent's seven. This meant that four of us couldn't take a breather. It also meant we couldn't foul out.

The opposing team was very aggressive at first, crashing the rim whenever a shot went up. My height is my only advantage, my weight my biggest disadvantage. These guys were pushing me around like a doll. I couldn't box out and couldn't grab the rebounds. Fortunately, since they didn't have that many substitutes themselves they had to slow down their pacing to maintain their energy. By half time we were up by 1.

In the second half we lost our lead early on. They got inside the paint for made their shots. But then my team picked up our pace and scored easy points on fast breaks. We were up by 15 points. But we got into foul trouble. They closed the gap when they started pressuring us full court. Soon the lead shrunk to 3 points. But time was running out. Our strategy was to run down the clock, pick up fouls, and extend our lead at the free throw line. No fouls.

The game ended with the Black team victorious: 87-83. We are still undefeated.

Birthdays

I just came from a birthday party. Another of my young friend's debut. I was talking to my friend about how strange it is that the birthday celebrant was only turning 18 now, when I had the impression that person was already 19 going on 20. She's in her second year of college and to me she acts older than her age.

I reasoned that this only seemed strange since I grew up in an American school where high school seniors graduate at 18. In the Philippines we lack the middle school years 7 and 8, so high school grads are 16 or 17 when they enter college. I am generally older than most of my peers. You will find a handful of college grads at the young age of 19.

I'm just relieve that I wasn't asked to dance with the birthday celebrant. I'm getting too old for this.

Ta-da

Cheers to blogging.

Interview #3

I just came from the supposedly last job interview. After this you're either in or out. I'm confused about how the process is, it seems to me they pick one individual for one position and expect them to pass the exam and the interviews. I don't think they turn anyone down. Everyone I know who has applied there has been accepted. So I'm thinking I might not even be competing against anyone for this position. Hurray?

The job interview was at UP-techno hub, on congressional, across from the UP campus. It's one jeepney ride away from my house and it takes around 25 minutes to commute there. This is excellent. The IBM building is next to a mini-outdoor mall, but it's not as lively as Eastwood at night. The actual building seems non-spectacular but decent enough. It's a new building, built within the last four years. So the actual interview...

I was supposed to be interviewed by a M. Go, but he never showed up. I arrived 10 minutes early and had to wait nearly 25 minutes before a replacement came and did the interview with me. His name is J.A. and I kept thinking it was A.J. This seemed like the most laid back interview I've had so far (largely due to JA's candid manner). He pretty much asked me about myself and went through my resume -- but he stayed away from the question "tell me about a time when you got stressed out, then tell me how you dealt with it." What he did instead is ask about my perception about the company, what my job expectation were, where I see myself in 5 years, relatively easy questions. He told me what the position entails: processing payroll for 19,000 employees in the states. He warned me that it's very technical and I might not enjoy it since I seem more like a creative person (he actually compared himself to me -- business management student out of default who has a creative side). So generally, it went really well. He's going to send in his evaluation and hopefully I'll hear back from the company by Tuesday. Yayyy

Food

Yesterday I realized that I had leftover chicken in my fridge. This got me very excited because I have been too lazy to cook and it meant I could postpone my going to the grocery store to buy more raw chicken. Let me take a step back and say that I consider food to be a luxury, in that I feel like I don't have to eat well every meal, but instead food is just a necessity in life. Very much like breathing or laughing or dancing in place. I eat anything. Um... I know how I want to end this but it seems like I have no where to go, so I'm just going to end this now. I found out that my leftover chicken had molded. Now I have a ton of rice that I don't know what to do with. Sigh. Sorry for the short post. The End

Groceries

In high school I enrolled in a food management class. The class was so serious that we had our own text book. It was not so serious in that we watched episodes of Emeril on block days. I remember one lesson we learned during our first session -- you should eat before you go buy groceries. I did this today when I was at the grocery store. I had a gift cheque worth 500 pesos and I decided to spend it on groceries (is this a sign of growing up?). I walked through the aisles but after eating I had no appetite, making me impervious to the drawing powers of food. For the first five minutes or so I was stumped. The only thing in my basket was bananas. I explored the whole area before I eventually got around to buying cereal (something I took for granted in Taiwan -- its so expensive here!) and a bunch of non-food items, like soap. When I arrived at the check out counter, I had money to spare so I grabbed a snickers bar. My bill registered 500.95php. I like gift cheques.

Bible

I really don't want to write anything at the moment.

I've been trying to memorize the book of James for the past week. I've got the first chapter and half of chapter two down. I take a paragraph a day because it takes effort remembering the verses from the previous day.

I just want to say two things. First, memorizing scripture is amazing. I haven't regularly memorize scripture since high school Bible class, and now I'm beginning to realize how helpful it is to my spiritual sustenance. When I'm put in a situation that requires a decision to be made the verse "If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God who gives generously to all, without finding fault, and it will be given to him." (I double checked on BibleGateway if I got the passage correct and they actually have it wrong. They use "you" instead of "him," possibly to be more politically correct.) If I find myself facing a difficult situation I think of "Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life which God has promised to those who love Him." At Church I think of "Do not merely listen to the word, do what it says . . . the one who looks intently into the perfect law which bring freedom, and continues to do so, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it, he will be blessed in what he does." I need to work on punctuation.

But when you do this, when you memorize scripture like James, you realize how impossible it is to live the Christian life. I just memorize this tonight "But if you show favoritism you sin and are convicted by the law as lawbreakers. For whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles at just one point is guilty of breaking them all." Then in a previous verse it says "If anyone considers himself religious yet does not keep a tight reign on his tongue he deceives himself and his religion is worthless. Religion that God the Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."

Seriously, almost every verse is as convicting as the next and I start wondering what kind of Christian I am. "If you show special attention . . . have you not discriminated amongst yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?" We're hopeless, no wonder the world is as wrecked as its ever been. I was born to Christian parents who brought me up straight as an arrow yet every single one of these verses preaches that I am not who I think I am. I am just as corrupt as the next guy.

Thank God for His grace and mercy. I just wish my life would better reflect that.

Trapped

I want to hit the road.

Seasons of Hair

My hair has a tipping point. I usually grow my hair out without maintaining it in any way, and when it gets too long I ask the barber to chop it all off. I got it cut today and now my hair sticks out like porcupine needles. It takes around three weeks for it to not look like it was recently cut. Then I hit another point where my hair gets really hard to manage and it sticks up in the back when I wake up in the morning. It requires me to take a shower or wear a hat in order for my hair to stay matted down. After a while my hair gets longer and heavier, making the sticking up problem non-problematic. This is the point where I can actually comb my hair and look neat. But here’s where the tipping point comes in. One day my hair suddenly looks too long and too messy. One day my hair becomes unmanageable and I get ton of people telling me to get a haircut, all on one weekend. That’s what happened yesterday and today.

Yearbook

I'm using Dvorak right now after two months or of using Qwerty. This is going to take me forever to write.

So the Green and White yearbook has been printed and I got a hold of one during the yearbook and dvd launch party. A years' work has finally paid off and I'm surprised how well it has turned out. I hope people like it and its unique concept of using letters instead of articles (when I say letter, I mean letter -- envelope and all. I need to post this now. It's 11:58pm.

IQ

So at Pioneer Insurance I was given the exact same aptitude test but still couldn't finish the exam. What made my day was when the HR person asked me what I thought of the test. I said it was difficult (challenging), but she told me I did pretty well on it. Sweet.

Oh, the answer to the previous question is AD.

Interview #2

Today I had an interview at IBM. The days leading up to this one have been extremely stressful. I think about what I'm going to say at the interview, how I'll hold up working with IBM, what my daily routine would be, etc. During the week I've lost my appetite and get small headaches, it's not very pleasant. But the day of the interview is fine. I wake up, dress, commute, fill out the application form, and wait. It's strange but waiting at the actual venue is the least stressful part of applying for a job.

I'm interviewed by a lady named Lea who's very pleasant and very helpful (she better be, she's HR). The interview goes well (even though I feel like I babble a lot). I'm asked about situations where I've been stressed and how I react to it. I hate this question, it's not that I'm not comfortable or unable to answer it, it's just the only thing that comes to mind are problems that STILL EXIST. So before I know it, I'm spilling my guts about my failures at coordinating the youth fellowship and finishing projects, and then I get stuck with how I dealt with those problems. I managed to pull something out of my butt. Up to this point, I'm wondering if I was completely truthful with that interview. I might of skewed things in my favor. Oh well.

So I'm told I might be contacted later that night or the next day about an interview. I'm surprised because the interview is only for 15 minutes, and after that I'm already heading home. I hail a taxi and leave Eastwood when I receive another call. It's IBM asking me if I'm still in the vicinity because they would like to have another interview. I've already left the area when I tell the taxi driver to stop the car. I run back for another interview in a different building. Good bye fifty pesos.

I'm interviewed by Diane and April (the team leader). They ask similar questions that I was asked earlier, along with "tell me something about yourself that's not on your resume." I'm baffled and start stuttering because I can't think of anything. I throw out my involvement in Church activities, etc. They ask how comfortable I am with numbers, and this is when I bomb the interview. I pretty much say I don't like accounting or finance, which is basically what the position is for (payroll). On top of that, I let them know that I prefer to work at a different IBM location, not at Eastwood (meaning I'm asking for a different position). Okay, I don't think the interview went terribly, I handled myself pretty well. I'm just struggling with a few things:

1. How am I going to commute to Eastwood?
2. How am I going to adjust to the night shift? (Good bye social life... Oh wait, I don't have one)
3. What am I going to do about food?
4. Do I really want to spend the next 6 months or year dealing with numbers everyday?
5. Am I going to be good at what I do? What if I suck?

After the interview they said they might call me tonight or tomorrow morning for a third interview (What? I thought there were only two.) Supposedly this is the last one, and this one's supposed to be with the head honcho. Supposedly.

Interview #1

I took an pre-employment exam at RiskMetrics (aka Institution of Shareholder Services). It was dreadful. The test contained a bad combination of logic, comprehension, finance (not math, finance), and self evaluation. It took me four hours to complete the exam, and by the end my head was spinning.

Forty minutes later I have my initial interview which I flounder in. I express myself awkwardly, grab at words, think out loud... It was a disaster.

I’m really hoping they brush my exam and interview aside and accept me with outstretched arms. An embrace would be nice.

Next on the list: IBM.

Question 4
BANTER AN WINTER IN FAMINE AM LADDER **
Answer
________

Email

Here's an email I wrote to my parents because I'm too lazy to write anything else.

Good news, I received a few phone calls today. I have an examination tomorrow at Makati for RiskMetrics. It's a part time job that has the possibility of regularizing me after six months, but it seems like a big deal company. It's research based.

I got a call from someone who got my number about KGC Philippines. I was unsure about what it was, but it's for entrepreneurs and it has to do with wholesale/retail. I turned it down because it sounded kind of shady.

Later that day I got a call from IBM about an HR - payroll job. It's night shift and I'll have to work at Eastwood. I'm going to the interview on Thursday. But don't worry about the Eastwood part, my friend says there's a shuttle that goes there from Quezon Avenue, which is walking distance from my house.

Please pray for me. God has already been gracious enough for the examination and the interview to be on separate days (Wednesday then Thursday). On top of that, since we're talking about two positions this will be me options instead of decided on one job. I'm very grateful. But please pray for me just the same :)

Open

So it's November. You know what that means... NABLOPOMO!!! (also, happy All Saints' Day!) That means I'm going to attempt to blog everyday for the month of November. Exciting, right?

I've been reading the Andre Agassi memoir Open on my new Kindle. Great way to start my ebook reading. It reads a lot easier than the previous book I read (The Blind Assassin). For one, I'm reading it on the Kindle, and two, the words are simple and the sentences are short.

Like this.

But I can't stop reading. I'm in love with the character. Let me clarify, I'm not in love with Agassi, I'm in love with the character that he is. I don't want to sound all woman-like, but I've found that I'm attracted to reading about tragic men. Two of my favorite books in the past four years have been about tragic men: The Tender Bar and The Yiddish Policemen's Union.

I'm comforted that there are men out there who are great, although insecure and remorseful, yet can still carry on with that baggage in tow. I can't say I have much in common with these characters, but I do understand what it's like to be judged by who I'm perceived to be, yet live a life that's totally different from within. Unlike these memoirs and novels, it's harder for us to express our stories. And it's even harder to be honest about it.

Maybe I can be more honest with myself in the coming month.

The Problem with the Kindle

I can buy a paperback for 7.50USD from the local bookstore. Since my region is listed as Asia & Pacific I'm charged and additional 2 dollars for a book. Books are around 10USD if you're in the States, thus I have to pay 5USD more for an ebook than for a paperback. I'm wondering if this was a good investment or not.

What I love about the Kindle is that it's so easy to read. The font is big and the contrast makes it readable anywhere -- in the dark or in sunlight. I don't have to worry about my body's position to the light because there are no pages to cast shadows . It's light and portable. And it's easy to hold and flip pages. No longer do I have to worry about the book's spine, nor do I have to put any effort into keeping the book pages open with my fingers, which is always a pain when I'm reading with one hand.

The Kindle is amazing. I'm just sad that the books I want are either too expensive or not in Kindle format yet.

Bleh

So the previous entry wasn't how I intended it to be. Anyways, here's part 2.

Ever since I was young I didn't know what I wanted to be. I had no aspirations. I still don't. I don't know who I want to be, so I either take the next logical step or refer to other people for what I should be doing.

I just want to do something I'm good at. I know that's a dangerous thing to say as I could be good at being a super villain, or maybe something milder like a custodian. Not that I'm comparing the two. But what I'm trying to say is that I want to do something where people can value my work and say complement me on a job well done. I don't want to be stuck in a job where I'm second guessing myself, worrying about getting scolded for a poor work. I'm scared of failure. I hate letting people down.

Sure, I have some minor esteem issues, but isn't that what everyone wants?

Rearranging my Priorities

A job. I'm looking for a job.

Yesterday I received a call from a company that was looking for Proofreaders. I was skeptical but was curious as to what this job entailed. Honestly, when I applied for the job I wasn't too keen on joining this relatively unknown company and I didn't feel any reason to commit to it, but I was intrigued that they were a non-voice BPO and dealt with e-book for companies in the US and in Europe.

This morning I went to Eastwood and made it barely in time for my scheduled interview (I would've been there sooner if I had flagged down a taxi when I needed one -- but hey! I was on time!). I wasn't too impressed with the building they were located in -- four floors, no elevators, and I didn't see the company's name anywhere. As I came to unit 302 I was surprised to see a door filled with book covers published some time ago. I felt deceived as the website I visited the previous night showed nothing to do with books, but at the same time I was comforted that I had found myself in the publishing industry -- or some form of it.

I was let in by the secretary who asked me to take a short exam. The proofreading exam required me to compare the scanned pages of a book with the ebook that it was converted into. Normally, the conversion tool is 90% accurate, meaning you'd find lots of mistakes. I was to note down the page number, the original error, and beside that the correction. For example:

102 - inside the lockde cabin was- inside the locked cabin was

I was given fifteen minutes for three pages -- I didn't finish. I was half way through the third page when I was asked to stop. After fifteen minutes the boss asked me to step inside a private room for the actual interview. He was impressed with my examination but quickly asked whether I could keep this up for eight hours a day, six days a week. He asked if I was okay with doing tedious work that required me to stare at a computer screen all day. He pretty much pointed out that this probably wasn't what I'd be interested in doing in the long run, especially with the low salary. I admitted that I applied for the job out of curiosity, but expressed my interest in the ebook industry.

He then gave me an education about the ebook industry, talking about their customers at Barnes and Noble, the evolution of the ebook format, and how the iPad had corrupted the ePub format by making it a single-platform through the use of DRM.

He told me that as a Lasallite (or a La Sallian) I was probably more ambitious, probably searching for a business related vocation which would prepare me to start my own business. He guessed that I didn't have any long-term plans for staying with the company, which he found to be a shame because he was searching for new proofreaders. He then asked me what I expected for a starting salary. I gave him a figure and he said he had a position that paid that much, but it required background knowledge and experience, which I had none of. He wracked his mind for job openings that I might be interested in, but the company was too small. In the end, the only thing we could come up with was a 1-year contract as a freelance proofreader, and maybe a promotion in the future. I thanked him for his time and consideration, and for the education about the ebook industry. I left. I felt sad.

The guy was really nice. He was amiable and tried to accommodate me knowing I had higher expectations. I was in an industry that I liked, and would be able to "read" books. At the same time, I knew I couldn't accept a job that paid so low. I knew my living expenses would outweigh my potential income. I knew I didn't want to stare at a computer screen all day (although that's pretty much all I do now). I just felt bad that my priorities were different than I thought they were.

Imagined Priorities:

I wanted a job that I could do well (and apparently, I'm a pretty good proofreader). check

I wanted good pay. no check

I wanted irregular work hours. check

I wanted an accessible location. check, no check, depending if I work there or at home

I wanted something with a future. half-check

I wanted something to do with writing. no check

I wanted a good boss. check

Actual Priorities:

Good pay.

It's kind of ridiculous. I find my pride is getting in the way. I know I'd compare myself with my more successful friends if I took the job. I feel like the job would be a poor return on investment. I feel like the job is for high school drop outs (his words). It's not a great job. But I feel like I'm turning it down for the wrong reasons.

Apple Shampoo

Is there any difference between shampoo for men and shampoo for women? Are they really chemically design for men's scalps or is that just a marketing tool? I've been using shampoo all my life and ... yes, I really have been using shampoo all my life ... and I don't feel my hair has gotten any dryer or more dandruff free because I use a shampoo that's marketed towards women. The only difference I've noticed after switching to shampoo for men is that the shampoo smell is more manly. And... well... Actually... Actually that's good enough a reason for me.

Cat

My uncle keeps lot of pets at his house. A bunch of extraordinary ones as well, such as horn bill, a monkey, two eagles, and a bunch of hens. You don't see these animals unless you're at the zoo, but apparently you'll fond them at my uncle's house.

My uncle also owns a handful of dogs and cats. Most of the cats were feral but he has one kitten that close to being domesticated. And out of all the exotic animals in this zoo-like house, I found this kitten to attract most of my attention. It's just so cute! With its stubby legs and its mechanized movements. Every now and then you'd find it curiously sneak up behind someone as they'd walk by and jump at them like a jaguar, but would retreat at any sign of danger.

I guess what really caught my attention was that the kitten reminded me more of an animated cartoon. It shocks me that animation has become so good that movies like Bolt don't look like an imitation of real animals, they look like the real thing. It also disturbs me that real life now looks like animated cartoons.

Forgiveness

[disclaimer: I am still typing in dvorak so if I don't make sense... tell me to switch back to qwerty]

---The first half is boring. Skip to "I don't like sermons about forgiveness" (third to the last paragraph) if you don't consider yourself to be a reader.---

This evening the pastor at my church spoke on Proverbs 17:9. "He who covers a transgression seeks love, but he who repeats a matter separates friends." We were asked to think of a person we needed to ask forgiveness from. I couldn't think of anyone because I'm the type of guy who's quick to forgive; I don't hold grudges. People make mistakes, I try not to let it get the best of me. But in the back of my mind I knew that I was having a bad day and it had to do with me being 'disrepected.'

One thing that irritates me is when I'm not shown respect or attention, especially when I'm waiting for food. Seriously, don't get between me and food when I'm hungry because I begin to brood and it's not pretty. So at lunch today I was waiting to order but the waitresses kept on snubbing me. She wouldn't take my order and continued to give her attention to other customers, even those who came in after me. I realized she was only doing this because there were a ton of customers that were demanding her service and since she knew me, she probably figured it would be wiser to snub someone she knew than a customer she didn't know.

Okay, I'm starting to feel bad for writing this because I feel like I'm digging up stuff that has already been forgiven and forgotten, but for the sake of blogging...

College fellowship is supposed to start at 2PM. I've tried to make it a point to start on time because I once got in trouble for letting the people out late (they were late for volleyball practice). I corrected them and it was fine for a time but today people came really late (even the youth pastor came late) and it really got on my nerves. We ended up starting the fellowship at 2:20 and by then I didn't want to be there. I contemplated leaving after the praise and worship session because I felt people didn't respect my time nor my value for punctuality. But the moment passed and I was okay for the rest of the fellowship. We try to end at 3:30, but on that day we didn't get out till 4:10. It was ridiculous because you can see people fidgeting in their seats as they wanted to leave, but we didn't want to end the program prematurely. I hope they come early next week so we can dismiss them on time.

After the fellowship I was fine. I let it pass because dwelling on something like that doesn't benefit me. Then during the worship service we learned about forgiveness.

I don't like sermons about forgiveness, not because I don't like forgiveness, but because the pastor always tells you to conjure up feelings of resentment that you try hard to forget. You're asked to think of someone you need to forgive, and it's hard for me because I'm quick to forgive. So what happens in my mind is I think of a time when someone had wronged me, remember that I've forgiven that person, then struggle with the thought of "Why do I still remember this? Haven't I forgiven this person already?" And it's tough because I have to re-evaluate whether I'm still willing to forgive that person.

One resentment that I feel I've gotten over yet still struggle to deal with whenever the memory floods back is my denial of a US Visa in order to attend my sister's wedding. The American consulate in Taipei denied me the opportunity to see an event that will most likely never happen again. I blamed everyone for this: the US and their restrictions, Filipinos who went to America and never came back, and God for having the power to do something but withholding it for whatever reason. It still upsets me today as I'm scared to return to an American embassy knowing that I'll have to check the "have you ever been denied a visa before" box. Will I ever see my sister's life in the States? Will I be able to attend my high school friend's wedding? I know I've dealt with this frustration in the past, and I've been able to forgive. But when I'm asked to conjure up this memory.. a memory of being rejected on grounds that are unrelated to me, but are related to my nationality.. I have to wonder whether I am willing to forgive again.

It gives a new meaning to Jesus' words in Matthew 18:22 in response to Peter's question, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Not seven times, seven times seventy.

Dvorak

On August 22 I forced myself to learn how to type on a Dvorak keyboard. It's been a week and I've made some progress, but I still type very slow. Dvorak is supposed to help you type faster while cutting down on the amount of mistakes you make. In one week my typing speed dropped from 80+wpm to 22wpm. In a week's time my typing has become more erratic and I make more mistakes now as sometimes I revert back to qwerty subconsciously. It's debilitating going from qwerty to dvorak. I can't even type in qwerty well anymore as I sometimes confuse the two while typing fast. Right now I'm typing with my eyes closed because it helps me concentrate. I make fewer dumb errors this way.

It took me a whole year to learn how to type in 5th grade. By the end of 2001 I was able to type 35 words per minute. I expect the same results in 51 weeks. Sigh

I wish I was this disciplined in other areas of my life. I wish I could give the same amount of patience and attention to learning other things as I've given dvorak. I know it'll take more than a week to perfect, but I know this is one skill that I'll use for the rest of my life. If only I had that devotion for something like language. Or economics. Or piano. Or towards God.

Its hard typing a well thought out blog when you're constantly thinking about what letter comes next. Its like talking in another language: you struggle with coming up with ideas in your head while making sure the words coming out of my mouth are correct.

40 and Reminiscing

I listen to a podcast by Bill Simmons from ESPN. He's a funny guy who loves Boston teams and reality TV shows. He also talks a lot about being 40. "Forty is the age when your warranty begins to run out," says recently interviewed Rich Eisen, and Bill Simmons agrees with him. "You wake up in the morning and your body starts to ache unlike when you're 30." Forty is also the age when you wake up at five in the morning and it feels perfectly natural. I'm not saying I've turned forty, twenty years ahead of schedule, but there's something else about turning forty. You're able to look back on every experience you lived through and say, "I remember when..." You're filled with stories about the OJ Simpson trial, the Bird vs Magic era, and the years of losses that led up to the 2004 World Series. You recount these stories with friend who know exactly what you're talking about. I'm twenty years his junior and feel like I've missed a life time's worth of events.

I'm fascinated by stories. I can sit through hours of podcasts listening to guys talk about the differences between the late 80's athletes and today's superstars. It intrigues me how they come up with comparisons about context between two strangely similar guys. It marvels me at how different things were before I was even born.

This evening I sat at Starbucks for four hours with a 25 year old and a 42 year old man. These two guys went to the same Bible college and they shared their stories about their phases of rebellion and resentment towards the college administration during their time in college. They shared stories about their successes and failures and how it felt like every moment in the past led up to today, and now it's like the fog has parted and he knows where his life's path was leading.

Me? I'm still struggling to find my purpose in life. I'm still searching for that thing that I'm passionate about. I sat there drinking coffee feeling jealous that this guy knew exactly what made him happy and he knew exactly what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

I'm about to graduate from college and I feel like my life is just beginning. Yet I don't know where to go. I lack direction, I lack purpose. I'm starting to doubt whether life begins at 21; life for my friend seems to begin when you hit forty. I wish I was forty and reminiscing.

Say What You Mean

Sometime back in May 2009, I told my family I needed a new wallet. The one I currently held was soaked with rain and sweat and it had already started peeling away at my IDs. I've had it for over three years and I was hoping my family would replace it. One day as I was browsing through Bratpack with my sister and brother-in-law, we saw a very black wallet that was self-proclaimed to be slasher-proof. We looked at the price and it was way more than I was willing to spend. There were other wallets displayed and my sister offered to buy me one, but I declined.

Come September, my birth month, my friends surprised me with an A3 sized birthday card. It was awesome and I enjoyed it immensely. Attached to the birthday card was a white Adidas bifold wallet made of polyester with an attractive penciled design. It was awesome and I used it right away.

Christmas rolls around the corner and my parents give me an assortment of small gifts, one of which is a wallet -- the same black wallet I saw at Bratpack at an exorbitant price. Was I grateful? Not exactly, I asked my mom why she bought me a wallet when I had told her I was given one for my birthday. I think I caught her off guard with my remark because she was expecting gratitude. And really, she deserved gratitude. I noticed my ungrateful attitude right after, but it was too late. No matter how much thank you’s I pour on my mother, I'm sure she still felt the pang of regret for getting me a gift I didn't want.

I still regret that Christmas morning.

Earlier today I was chatting with a friend online. She asked what my plans were after college and I responded by saying I'd look for work. She questioned me with "right away?" in which I responded "um. what else am i going to do?"

friend: do something to celebrate the fact that you've just graduated?

me: like get a job? isn't that the point of college? just kidding. hm. i should go to taiwan. but i don't know if my sister is pushing through with her christmas visit

friend: what does that depend on? ticket prices?

me: um. yeah. i don't mind not being rich, but sometimes it seems like life would be much different if travelling wasn't so costly. brb.

While I was gone it hit me how ungrateful I am. Is it in my being that I make these comments without thinking? I thought about what I said and questioned myself for writing off all the opportunities I've had to travel. Three years ago my whole family went to Africa. In the past two years I've been to Taiwan twice. In the past year I've traveled all over the Philippines. I am ungrateful.

I came back online and apologized right away for what I said. "i am rich. and i do travel a lot." It's a truth in my life that I take for granted. I know people who haven't even been on an airplane before, and I'm complaining about the cost of travel. I make trips to Taiwan every year for a fraction of the cost it takes my American friends to make the same trip, yet I'm still the one complaining about the cost of travel.

I sometimes say things I don't mean. And every time, the words I say can't be unsaid. The tongue is a rudder, it says in James chapter 3, it steers the whole ship. The tongue also is a fire, it corrupts the whole person. Our tongue sometimes says things that are hurtful to others, other times it neglects God’s blessings and says ungrateful things. Sigh.

[Supplemental reading: Jonah 4]

Nearing the End

I’m currently enrolled in class entitled Leadership in Organization (LEADORD). The class demands a lot from the students in terms of time and effort. We’re routinely given assignments, online activities and quizzes. But I guess what makes it so hectic is everything is essay based and the assignments are already posted so you know what you have to do today, and on Monday, and next week. It’s frightening, but I do well in that class. Just don’t let it get to you – like in a dream.

Last night I dreamt I was in LEADORG. Everything seemed normal until my teacher announced we had a midterm on that day. A Midterm? This wasn’t good news for me because I was clearly not prepared. I didn’t have the test booklet that we were required to use on such occasion. I looked to my pal in the front row who usually brings with him an extra copy but he didn’t have one either. I panic. Everyone else is scribbling away while I sit with my arms at my side not knowing what to do. Fortunately, C. was sitting beside me and he had an extra booklet.

I start with the cover. Name, ID Number, Section, Type of Test, Name of your Pet. Wha-whaat? I skip to the next page and answer the first problem. The quiz is much harder than I had expected it to be. My answer to the first essay question was only two lines long. A sigh and my dream shifts to something else. In my hand I hold paper, glue, and scotch tape. I make a binder for sheets of paper but it turns out terribly. My teacher walks up to me and reprimands me for wasting time and tells me to start answering the questions. I look at question two and draw a blank. I turn back to question one and realize that I answered the question in the wrong format – there was supposed to be double-spaced, but mine was not.

I look at the clock my bedside clock and realize it’s 9:01AM and yes, it was all a dream. Two more months until I graduate!!!

[edit] apparently this happens on August 8 or 9 because that's the date i wrote on the test booklet

A Casual Trip to the Hospital

I don’t know why, but whenever I come back from the hospital I feel compelled to blog about it. Wait! Don’t be alarmed that I mentioned the word hospital, I was only there to get my ears cleaned. I know people tend to think of something horrific when "hospital" is mentioned in a sentence, but it’s actually a relatively pleasant place from my experience (just avoid the emergency ward, worst place on earth).

So yeah, I got back from the hospital after getting my ears cleaned. I had to make the trip because I had a mandatory school check-up and at the clinic the guy made a big deal about getting my ears cleaned. “Get your ears cleaned and then I’ll clear you.” My ear wax was so dire that apparently I couldn’t graduate until I do something about it.

But it wasn’t that bad because I was cleared without having them cleaned. But before I left the guy asked me, “You can hear me, though, right?” I would’ve said, “What?” but I got scared he’d revoke my clearance if I didn’t say yes.

So today I went to Capitol Medical Center. I’ve actually had my ears cleaned before at CMC when it was really bad (I was deaf in one ear – one ear was completely clogged… It sounds really gross just saying that). My first trip happened a year ago and it was terrifying, whenever I asked for directions I had to ask them to repeat themselves, explaining that I couldn’t hear them. I was directed to an ear doctor whose office was very blue, very spacious, and very cold. She had a terrific view of Quezon Avenue and I gave her loads of compliments.

The chair was located off-center of the room, but close enough to the middle that it was obvious you were supposed to lay your eyes on it upon entering. I explained my situation and she told me to sit down, then she took out a terrifying contraption – it was a huge vacuum. She sucked out the wax chucks stuck in my ears and was so impressed because I can hear again! She told me there were still hardened chucks that she couldn’t get out with the vacuum so she told me to come back in a week after applying mineral oil and some ointments so soften the wax. I returned the next week and everything was great. She was such a pleasant person. I was in such a good mood afterwards. But it did set me back 3000PHP (around 50USD).

This time around my ears weren’t clogged; I just needed to get them cleaned. I went to a different doctor this time. His office was orange and he had statuettes of Buddha’s head, a Singapore plaque, and figure I guess came from Vietnam. You can tell he was really into feng shui because he had a waterfall in his room (protected by glass). I guessed he had one for two reasons: 1) feng shui; 2) static background sounds so when he cures you of your deafness you can yell out “I can hear the water!”

His chair was located in the corner of the room. He told me to sit down but he didn’t use a vacuum like the other doctor, he did something much more frightening: he pulled out a syringe. He explained to me that he’d clean my ear out by water (sounds a bit like Avatar). He took the syringe, stuck it in my ear canal (is that the right term?), injected the water in two bursts. The first burst clogs your ear, the second one washes out the gunk. He does this twice to both ears. It was awesome. I prefer this ear washing to the vacuum, it tickles your ears and it wasn't super-duper loud like the vacuum (imagine a vacuum in your ear).

So there’s my journey to Capitol Medical Center. I can now hear. I met another pleasant ear doctor. And this time it only set me back 900PHP (20USD).

Lost in Translation

I'm currently taking a literature class about Filipino history. We've tackled books by Foucault, Ileto, and Rafael. Foucault's book, The Archaeology of Knowledge, criticizes our perception of history by deconstructing the discourses that were impressed on us (what? I didn't understand it either). Ileto's Pasyon and Revolution is about Filipino history from the perspective of the masses, or the lower class, taking into account folk Catholicism and Filipino literature and how it shaped their understanding of current events. Rafael's Contracting Colonialism is about language and how Filipino cultural conversion partially failed due to poor translation (...apparently. I've only read the book's introduction; we've yet to discuss the book in class). And that is pretty much the situation I'm in now -- completely lost in translation while my teachers throw around Tagalog words.

In chapter one of Contracting Colonialism Rafael lauds the humor of Jose Rizal in his work, Nole Me Tangere, where Rizal describes the fictional Catholic priest's Spanish sermon. The Filipino's can't understand him because they don't understand Spanish, but they do understand a few words here and there, so what they get from a sermon about obedience and loyalty to the government is instead a sermon about the King and punishment (okay, I forgot the actual passage -- but you understand the point Rafael was trying to make). This is how I am in my literary class: about 90% of the lesson goes over my head, with the leftover 10% I create my own lesson. But what's a little more interesting are the words I do know, the words that make my ears perk up when I hear them. But the English words that perk up my ear are actually Filipino terms. Unfortunately, those two don't translate very well. For example:

English

≠

Tagalog

trite = "banal" = holy

*sigh*

Required Reading II

Was called on to recite in class. Didn't remember anything from the chapter. Typical.

Required Reading

My school readings are insanely boring and sometimes my mind drifts off into a meandering state. I often catch myself doing this, but usually I'll have "read" a page worth of material before I can stop myself. Sometimes I go back, most of the time I don't. In case you were wondering, here are some of my thoughts while drifting off . . .

"Need to check the movie times for Robinson's Place. I should probably do it now before I forget, but I don't want to break my train of thought. Doh! I'm drifting off again. What did I just read . . ."

"Vagabond. Where have I heard that word before? I think it was from a song. But what song was it? What does it mean??? Think it's something like a vagrant? . . ."

"Acquiesced. How do you pronounce that? I've seen that word a lot but it just looks weird. Note to self: look up acquiesced on howjsay.com . . ."

"I'm hungry. I wonder what I can eat. I don't think there's anything in the fridge, I should probably go to the grocery store later . . ."

[Cinematic Orchestra starts playing on my iPod]
"Dude, this sounds like something I'd write if I was in a band. No singing, just music. [Starts playing along on my air guitar] I'm such a loser . . ."

"How many more pages are left in this chapter. I'm getting bored. This book is boring. I don't like my Great Works class. The teacher's condescending. And this book is boring. It's not making any sense. Ileto is all over the place. And I'm going to have to sit through an hour and a half of him on Friday. I hope he doesn't speak Tagalog. I hope he's not boring . . ."

"Phooey, what was this chapter about?"

Casting Call : The Yiddish Policemen's Union

I'm not comfortable giving faces to characters in my favorite books. But I heard they were making a movie out of The Yiddish Policemen's Union so I figured I should give the characters faces as I would have pictured them before Hollywood ruins everything for me.

Meyer Landsman : Benicio Del Toro

Benicio is one scary dude, but his brooding and washed up look totally resembles Meyer Landsman.

Berko Shemets : Danny Trejo

It took me forever to think of someone for Berko's character, because how many big half Indian actors can you think of? I picked Danny Trejo as I was browsing through imdb pages and figured he looks more like the part than any white guy I came across. Wouldn't stick with him in the long run though.

Bina : Brunette Kristen Wiig

I know she's more a comedian than a serious actress, but I can see her being the assertive, bossy character of Bina. She can play the part with a little skin pigmentation.

Mendel Shpilman : Kevin Connolly

Without giving too much away, I can see Connolly play the drugged out victim from the first chapter. He's relatively small, he's got an appealing personality, and he looks harmless. And again, I can't give too much away.

Re: Can the Netherlands beat Spain?

I’m finding it quite difficult to think so. You can argue that they’re undefeated, that they shocked the world by eliminating Brazil, and they’ve got a terrific feel for the game. But look at the countries the Netherlands defeated: Denmark, Japan, Cameroon, Slovakia, Brazil, and Uruguay. Group E did not contain that many contenders, so it’s not shocking that the Netherlands got out of the group with only wins. They proceeded by defeating Slovakia. Then they beat Brazil. That’s quite a feat, defeating the world’s number one team. But if you remember, Brazil fell apart in the second half as Ronaldo lost his temper and was ejected from the game.

The Netherlands needs a Brazil type collapse from Spain to win. They need a Switzerland-like goal to come out on top. Spain is just too good. They’re too good at controlling the ball, completing passes, stealing and intercepting passes from their opponents. But maybe, just maybe Spain’s offense might collapse. In their past games they’ve had breakaways but failed to capitalize. Apart from Villa, their strikers haven’t been that menacing. But Spain is still a great team and they very well may be the next World Cup champions.

With that said, I predict a Netherlands victory 2-1. Spain will get frustrated with wasted opportunities, and the Netherlands will manage to maintain ball control. They’ll have good shots at the goal and in the end, will come out on top.

(I don’t know how I convinced myself that this will happen)

Indestructible

iPods are amazingly durable. Just the other day I dropped my iPod from five feet off the ground and it survived. A five foot drop can break a lot of things – cell phones, televisions, guitars. Five feet is high enough to hurt a person.

Nalgenes are equally, or quite possibly, more impressive. They say Nalgenes are indestructible – able to survive drops from tall, tall buildings. Their hardened plastic, on impact, will not shatter but will absorb the shock. They will be bruised and may even dent but you can count of them to not crack, and they will survive all sorts of abuse.

I love my iPod, and Nalgenes are awesome, but they are not perfect. My iPod’s volume button is stuck because I accidentally dropped my iPod on its side. I cannot raise the volume with the volume button, I can only lower it. Nalgenes also have their sweet spots. In high school we tested the durability of the water jug. We filled it up to its brim, capped it, and then threw it as high up as we possibly could, confident that no type of impact could possibly break it. It landed on its soft, plastic lid, cracking the only part of the bottle that wasn’t made from the same polycarbonate as the rest of the body. From then on I couldn’t carry my Nalgene around with me.

R. is a friend, a very durable friend. He can survive five foot drops and all sorts of abuse. He weathers life storms yet still keeps a positive outlook on life. He loses life’s games yet continues to carry on knowing he can win tomorrow instead. But over the past few months I learned he had a sweet spot as well. “No” is such an easy word to use and abuse. If you say it jokingly or seriously it can still have the same negative impact as an unintentional slap to the face. It doesn't matter what tone you say it in, you can even say it with a smile on your face, but what “no” infers, probably means much more to R. than to you or me.

So sorry R. for being a No person. Sorry for the abuse.

President Noynoy’s Inaugural Speech

You can find the actual transcript here. The English translations can be found here.

On June 30, 2010, President Noynoy Aquino was sworn into office at the Quirino Grandstand. There was a sea of yellow and a sea of hopeful faces. I was going to critique President Noynoy’s speech by pointing out things I’m doubtful of or things I disagree with, but his speech filled me with hope for the Philippines. We share the same disdain towards the Philippines’ slow economic growth, we share the same resentment toward poor governance, we share the same contempt towards the corrupt, and we share the same dream for a better country. I am hopeful for the future because President Noynoy knows what to do, and he’s got the whole country backing him up.

Yet, I’m wondering why he cut God out of his speech. His mother was a devout Catholic; she wore it on her sleeve. I’m surprised President Noynoy didn’t do the same, because in the end he is still accountable to God. In the end, it is not man who controls his path, but the God of the universe.

In the end, I applaud President Noynoy for giving us what we need: hope.

“For I, the Lord, love justice; I hate robbery and iniquity.” Isaiah 61:8a

Re: When will the Philippines get a World Cup team?

You can draw similarities between the World Cup and the Olympics, such as they both happen every four years and they are both global events. But what makes the World Cup different is that it's only one sport, people are actually passionate about that one sport, and not all countries are represented -- i.e. the Philippines.

This makes the Philippines one of the worst places to be during World Cup season. You're more likely to find a rowdy crowd in North Korea than in the Philippines. Filipinos aren't interested in soccer. They have the same attitude towards it as the USA -- football (I mean soccer) is a slow sport with not enough action. In the Philippines the fast-paced, high-tempo aggressiveness of basketball is king. We celebrate it as though we invented the sport -- but the truth is, we suck at it. We don't have superhuman characteristics like height or speed to be good at basketball, we're too malnourished for that. Despite this basketball is our prime sport followed by billiards, boxing, and then ice skating.

Football's unpopularity does have its perks. It's such a niche that you're forced to talk with people you hardly ever talk to, because out of your 400 facebook friends only 4 people stay up till 230AM to watch the game.

Here's what needs to happen before the Philippines can get a World Cup team.

1. The USA needs to win the World Cup.
   The Philippines' culture is intertwined with American culture. We watch American movies and TV shows, we listen to American music, we eat American, and we root for American sport teams (ew Lakers). We are superficially American. What I'm really trying to say is that soccer has to take off in Americaª before it can take off here.
2. We need to implement a soccer program in our public school.
   We're not exposed to soccer enough. We don't get the opportunity to play until it's too late. Other countries are passionate about soccer because they grow up with it. They learn it while they are young and they start developing strange tendencies to do everything with their feet. If you throw a ball at a Filipino he will catch it with his hands. If you throw a ball at a European, he catches it with his chest.
3. Similar to the economy, we need better infrastructure.
   I'm talking about lots of grass. We don't have a lot of grass in the city -- where things really matter. The only place where soccer can take off is at DLSU, UP, UST, and Ateneo, because our campuses are either big enough, or have already designated an area for outdoor sports. You can't even tell us to play in our backyard, because we don't have one.
   
   

---

ªIs soccer finally taking off in America?

No. Once the World Cup ends it's going to be back to basketball, football, baseball, golf, tennis, nascar, and wrestling -- everything except for soccer. Why? Because soccer is the world's sport, and America is no good at it. The United States will only watch a sport if they're the best -- or at least competitive. And when will we know that the United States is competitive? When they start showing soccer games on ESPN. Same goes with cricket and rugby.

Can soccer take off in America?

Yes. Next World Cup season, once America beats Brazil, or a team equally challenging (instead of beating Algeria, ranked 30). You need to have dignity before you can feel proud.

---

World Cup quarterfinals predictions
Ghana 1 - 0 Uruguay
Brazil 3 - 1 Netherlands
Germany 2 - 1 Argentina
Spain 2 - 0 Paraguay

if only i had tumblr...

... i could post videos to really great songs from some of my favorite movies.

An Education

I think my professors at school share the same resentment towards the Philippines as me, though their understanding of the Philippines is more robust and knowledgeable than mine. They also have the benefit of living through the Philippine’s golden years when we were one of Asia’s finest. And today, any teacher above the age of 40 bemoans the fallen and lost empire that our country had the potential to be.

“When we were in college, companies would send us letters inviting us to apply to their corporation . . . each student would receive three to five letters, two from the government and three from the private sector.” Now, we’re paying entrance fees at job expos just so we could hand in our resumes.

“Bangladesh refused to do business here in the Philippines because our processes are too slow and inefficient. Imagine, Bangladesh is refusing to manufacture medicine here.”

“The Philippines is still using the feudal system. Our people still resort to dole-outs from the President. They expect the government to feed their mouths.”

And the one that stick out like a sore thumb is our culture. “Culture is the one thing that is holding back our country. If you look at other countries’ political parties, no one jumps from one party to the other. But here in the Philippines, people jump on the bandwagon of the majority, because that’s where the power is, and that’s where the money is.”

I’m bombarded with this almost everyday at school. How can I feel proud of my country when the role models I look up to at school have no faith in our government? How can I pretend to be patriotic when one of my professors refuses to even acknowledge the presidential election last May?

The country barely seems to be moving forward, and in a sense I feel my bitterness and resentment being justified by our limping progression. But then again – I have seen our country advance. The past election is evidence of progression as we successfully had an automated election (thank you Richard Gordon). The rebuilding of infrastructure in my neighborhood tells me that the local government is still operating, despite the slow process. And we’ve finally extended the LRT1 to connect with the MRT. But something within me yelps, “Is that all?”

The Philippines still has the potential to be big, to make a comeback. But I fear we’ll make the mistake of leaning too much on government and not enough on our own efforts to push us forward. I fear Filipinos will lose confidence in President-elect Noynoy when their immediate wants and needs aren’t gratified. I fear that our culture won’t change because we’re too resistant and too afraid of change. I fear complacency is what lies within all of us.

My professors at school have the right to be angry. They’ve done their part to pull the Philippines forward, and they continue to do so today through educating us in college. But instead of infusing resentment and bitterness into our minds, I wish our teachers would instill in us hope and hunger.

Borromeo

The construction in Taiwan is amazing. During my last trip to Taiwan last December I saw numerous buildings being erected all over the city. Gigantic, overwhelming monstrosities that make the uncapturable sky to look that much smaller. Roads are repaved routinely; black, silk asphalt that is layered and flattened over stretches of road in the midst of the night. Taiwan is a well oiled machine and it’s beautiful.

Outside my house is a road, constructed way before I came along, but never renovated until now. When I came back from my trip to Taiwan in January, construction workers started tearing up this road. Their loud and heavy machinery clawed away at the asphalt, removing large chunks to install new pipers. The local government finally decided our neighborhood needed better infrastructure. It’s June right now and they’re still not done. They’ve torn up edges of the roads to add a sidewalk – removing gardens and lots of grass in the process. The road is much wider now, but it is still in its cement phase. Walking the newly renovated street last week, I noticed a large crack and wondered when they’d cover the road with asphalt.

The process is slow. The beauty has been taken out of the process. We have giant piles of sand, rocks, and uprooted plants lining our streets. I’ve been meaning to document the process but didn’t want to pull out my camera. Now I resort to memory.

There wasn’t really a point in my writing this. I’m sorry if I sound bitter. I’m not that upset with the slow construction. I’m actually quite relieved that the road is new and not just repaired. New pipes, sidewalks, a really wide street, this is more than I could ask for.

It’s late. It’s 2:20AM now and I’m too tired to watch the Cameroon v Denmark game. Good night.

Eye Candy

Four times a week I take the MRT to school. It’s a long commute, but it mostly requires me to stand around while I’m whizzed by a steel machine. On this hour long commute, I am entertained by flashy images that pepper EDSA. Most of the ads are for clothes and prosthetics – I mean body care, read: a lot of billboards with attractive, half-naked Filipinos models. I can picture a contemporary Mad Men episode where Don Draper is faced with ad A) model in a tight jump suit marketing not the clothing but the abs that are clearly visible on the guy’s abdomen, or ad B) woman adorned with recycled rags representing what it means to really be an environmentalist. Draper would look at ad A and then ad B then say something like, “This isn’t what people want. No, men and women both want to be free – free from the city’s steel bars, free from the norms of society. [Dramatic pause] Think Free.” He then pulls out his own poster with two models barely naked, nothing but a loin cloth hiding the model’s private parts. “Ladies, gentlemen, Bench’s new direction – ‘Uncut.’ I think that’s actually what happened. I saw three fifty feet tall underwear ads. Three!

I’m surprised that there hasn’t been a car crash apocalypse on EDSA yet. Hmm… This sounds like a wonderful new idea for the game Burnout. We can call it Burnout: Deadly Distractions. And what you do, instead of driving a car into oncoming traffic, is place an ad beside the street that would distract male drivers, causing them to crash their cars. Leading to a multi-million dollar car pile up.

I wonder if anyone is as embarrassed by Philippines’ un-conservative marketing as I am. And people ask my why I shifted away from my advertising major.

It’s raining outside.

In the past month the Philippines has experienced minor downpours. The rain has fallen, running down sky scrapers, bridges, and light posts, into the street and taking with it the summer heat. I no longer sweat after exiting the house for more than five minutes. But instead of being drenched with perspiration, I now have to deal with soaked shoes, and wet jeans.

Yesterday I walked down Scout Midrinan with my umbrella in hand when the sky released its breathe and let down a heavy downpour. My small sized umbrella protected my head but anything below my knees was already beginning to feel like I’d marched part of myself into ocean. But this is the type of weather I love. The coolness, the drowning effect of the rain on rooftops and windows, the feeling of hope as maybe, just maybe school may be suspended for the day.

Rain can sustain our livelihood or it can be a force of destruction as we witnessed in last year’s Typhoon Ondoy. It makes life difficult as we sometimes have to trudge through floods that are ankle deep, or it can be a cleaning agent that washes away the dirt from tiled buildings or parked cars. It can limit our sights while driving, or it can clear away the smog that permeates our city. You can’t hate the rain. You can’t love it either. It’s just a part of life that we deal with on a yearly basis. Rain is.

It’s stopped raining outside. The only evidence we have of the rain’s existence is the puddles it left behind for us to stand in.

I attend a leadership class every Friday. I hate attending this class because every time I attend I feel like I’m being told everything that I’m doing wrong. You’re not proactive enough, you’re not supportive of your subordinates, you’re not taking your role seriously. It makes me want to scream, “I never wanted this in the first place!” But I’m here anyways. These classes aren’t about teaching – they’re about preaching, and it’s pretty heavy preaching. It makes the burden on my back feel 10 times its actual weight.

But at the same time, I need it. I need it to see my faults – to see the areas in which I can and should improve. The material isn’t about one aspect of my life, it’s about everything – they way I think, the way I talk and behave, the way I relate with other people. Leadership isn’t just about managing others, it’s about managing yourself. The class does emphasize on things I’m doing wrong, but it has made me stronger.

And in ten years, when I look back on my college years I hope to have made in impact. In a way I just want to leave behind a legacy – or a puddle.

Summer Cleaning

My mother spends most of her day cleaning the house. It’s one of her passions; it’s one of her obsessions. She sweeps, she mops, she dusts everything in every room. It’s a lifelong chore that she finds satisfying. And I’m proud of her; I’m proud of her work. At the end of the day the house always seems to sparkle. It makes me feel like a king whenever I visit her in Taiwan. But here in the Philippines, my place is a mess.

Ever since summer I’ve been either too busy or unmotivated to clean up. I receive comments from my sister and mother about how cluttered my room looks whenever we video conference on Skype. It’s embarrassing. So today I cleaned my room. I started with my desk. Then I swept the floor. I even organized my files on my computer. I was on a role. Then there was the task of cleaning the wall.

My mirror sits on my desk which allows me to see my whole room and the TV even though I’m staring at the wall. But it took up too much space so I decided to move it. In the mirror’s place is its dirty outline: a white wall with dark smudges, sticky-tack, and dust. The sticky-tack came off easily, but the dark smudges . . . Cleaning a white wall is impossible. The more I scrub, the more the smudges seem to spread and smear. Some day I’m going to repaint this wall a different color – or maybe I’ll paint a mural of the Justice League instead.

I love cleaning my room. I feel so accomplished when my room is neat and organized. And I expect my mom to be proud of me, even if she can’t see it. I just wish my life was the same way. I still have my 2009 New Years Resolution on my wall, most of which can be repeated again this year (e.g. raise GPA, go somewhere new). Last year I accomplished four of the ten resolutions. But there are always things I wish I did that I didn’t do. I’ve gotten most of the sticky-tack and dust off my life, but you’ll still find smudges of failures and shortcomings that refuse to come off despite the constant scrubbing. I know how clean I want my life to be, but no matter how I go about it I’ll always say something hurtful or negative to bring others down. I’ll eventually lose the motivation to continue to work at it, and in the end nothing will change. Dust will collect again; posters and pictures will fade.

I go through these phases of wanting to be, needing to be, a better man. I find it so easy to give in, to give up. But giving up is always a mistake. I want a clean wall.

Teach me your way, O Lord, and I will walk in your truth; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name. -Psalm 74:11

Memories

It’s been over a month since I’ve sat down and read a book. The last time I had done so was with A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, back in April of this year. Since then I haven’t been able to get past the third chapters of any book. I’ve tried – I got through 10 pages of A Life of Pi, and 30 pages of Slam. The busyness of school and orgs, and the distractions of Google Reader and podcasts have taken away my readers mojo and I’m determined to get it back.

On Monday I pulled The Yiddish Policemen’s Union off my shelf and made up my mind to get to the last page. My first time through the book was a chore; I struggled through every paragraph with its landmines of five syllable words and Yiddish references. In retrospect, if I told myself that the plot could have been summed up in less than twenty pages, I probably would have given up. But I have fallen in love with this book. This is my third or fourth time through and I have a much clearer understand of what’s happening. I can now sit back and enjoy everything that makes the book great.

The added pleasure of rereading the book is the memories that come with it. I found tucked in its pages a boarding pass from my trip to Tacloban, a slip of paper with the contact details of Bratpack, and a airline napkin that book marked the glossary. Before I used receipts which doubled as a book mark and a list on which I wrote vocabulary words. The receipt is now gone since I transferred the list onto my computer. You can download the vocabulary list by clicking here.

TYPU represents much more to me than just a book; it is a memory bank that brings me back in time. Grab a book off my bookshelf and I’ll tell you where it came from. Give me a song off my iTunes library and I’ll give you a memory. Journals, diaries, blogs can remind you of an incident, but those words are told in past tense; they tell of a time when you remembered an incident. They are a memory of a memory. The things you can touch, hear, taste, smell, or feel – those are the things that really bring you back.

I downloaded two podcasts this evening – both were re-aired interviews from March. And surprisingly, I knew exactly where I was when I first heard those interviews. The first interview was with the creators of South Park and I remembered I was across DLSU at National Bookstore looking for a present for my dad. I ended up buying him Blink by Malcolm Gladwell since he enjoyed Outliers so much. The second interview was with Kelly Kennedy, and I remember hearing the first half of the interview while I was waiting at the airport for my mom at three in the morning. I wasn’t able to finish the podcast as I saw my mom exit the customs area.

Sounds, feelings, emotions, things that created a moment for me. I am mesmerized at how my memory works. I wish I could utilize it for my education.

---

I just noticed how sentimental I sound. I don't consider myself to be a sentimental guy -- I move around a lot, which disallows me to accumulate much. If I was evicted from my house on the unlikely premise that Nick Hornby wanted my room, I'd take my laptop, guitars, xbox, clothes and my books with me. I'd leave everything else to his disposal. I don't care much about the foam hand from my first UAAP game, or the lanyards from the different retreats I've been part of. Almost everything in my room are for decorative purposes only. What I'm trying to say is that the memories I was talking of are memories brought up by books and music.

*Sigh* It's hard to differentiate the two. Maybe I am a sentimental guy -- deep down inside. Maybe memories are what keep me sane. I'd hate to think so. Memories . . . they tell me who I am. Where I have been. What I have done. Memories -- please go away. I'm trying to live in the present.

Michel Foucault

Sometime in May I was standing in front of a urinal when my jean's button popped out and landed on the urinal's porcelain bed. My hygienic conscience prevented me from picking it up, so I left it. In the succeeding months I have depended on my belt and zipper to keep my pants from falling. I've since appreciated buttons.

I'm not a school person. School is a place for me to be judged on my output, not because they affect anyone or change anything, but because of the expectation of my teacher. How could I appreciate the Archaeology of Knowledge if I don't understand its text? What's the point of diving into this piece of literature when it has no effect on my life?

O weekend. Please come quickly.

Musings

[Don't tell me that I'm emo]

“I honestly think this may be the end of the world.”
And just like that, the world explodes. Australia is flung towards Neptune, while Africa coincidentally breaks apart into the shapes of its countries and drifts into the center of our solar system. The earth’s water vaporizes and freezes back into ice as it enters deep space. All plants and animals cease to exist. Nothing is left alive. Our conscience is the only thing that remains.

“I think therefore I am.”

I know exactly who I am. I am the shadow of my human form. I am water. I am the essence of life. I am alive.

I drift through space without direction, without a destination, and without a guide. I move laterally, diagonally, then in curves. I move forward in time, and then retrace my steps. What is a day if you have no sun? What is a second if you have no heart? What is now if nothing ever changes?

I know exactly who I am. I am eternal. And I know exactly who I am not. I am not here.

“Is this home?”

You are outside of the milk way. Careening through space. Careening through time. Careening through nothing. This is home.

Can you see that? No. Can you hear that? No. Can you smell that? No. But can you feel that? Yes. Approaching you is a star that’s five hundred times bigger than the sun. Its energy radiates and explodes, giving light and heat to everything around it. Giving warmth and life to everything it touches. But this star too explodes. It no longer lives. It’s gone. And in its place is nothing.

I know exactly what I am not. I’m not a star.

How do you end consciousness? Through sleep? Nay. Through death? Never. You can’t quiet a spirit that doesn’t depend on any material thing to survive. You can’t mute the siren that we know as life. How far is the east from the west? It’s as far as the beginning is from the end. And you my friend, are right in the middle.