Back from Retreat

My first experience of a formal retreat was on my last year in college. It was a requirement for graduation. I was very hesitant then.

In my first four years in college (mine is a five-year course), I was very detached from my classmates. There were only three classmates I was able to relate to. I was different, and they, too, acknowledged that. My concerns and priorities were not the same with theirs.

While most of them, if not all, centered their college lives on their studies, I practically majored in extra-curricular activities. I believed that it was my responsibility to give more of myself to others. I did not understand their lack of interest and indifference to school activities. I thought that they, too, did not understand me. And for that reason, I did not want to be with them.

But things changed during and after the retreat. I let them inside of me and more importantly, I allowed myself to get inside them and understand them. And it was then that I realized that while I was running away from them, they were always around - behind me and supporting me. They were very proud of me and of what I was doing.

I am very thankful for that opportunity given to me to appreciate them and build a better relationship with them. They have all become my friends and are now a big part of my life.

I never thought that I would experience another formal (required) meaningful retreat in my life. But retreat per se is something that I always do. I have ran away from home several times as a child but I was always found. Maybe because I wanted to be found in the first place.

In college, when academic and extra-curricular pressures got so heavy, I always found ways to leave for a while and go to places where I couldn't be reached. My parents seemed to understand (or they never knew because I told them I was going somewhere else for a school-related activity).

At the end of every retreat, I always felt so much better (or more confused).

Even now, in a way, I am having a retreat. I work and live in a place where I originally knew no one. This is because I also wanted to be alone.

I just got back from my second formal retreat. NDMU administrators, faculty and support services personnel had their retreat last September 3-4. One friend, a fellow educator, asked if the activity was necessary - that maybe the two days (three, including the travel) on retreat could be spent better on teaching our students. I wasn't able to answer his question at the time because such was not my concern.

For the past weeks, I had been looking forward to the retreat because it would be my first time in more than three months to leave the confines of my region. I will also get the chance to see former classmates who are reviewing in Davao, the venue of the retreat. I could rest my voice and be alone for a while.

Our retreat master, Bro. Joe, is an American Marist priest who is now on his 11th year here in the Philippines. He spoke to us in mixed English, Filipino and Bisaya. My greatest dream is to work as a missionary in Africa; and meeting Bro. Joe was very inspiring. He is more than 6o years old yet he was able to learn the Filipino language and Visayan dialect. I know now that I, too, could learn foreign languages.

I intended to leave in the evening of the first day to see my friends but I changed my mind after Bro. Joe's talk. He said that we all came there to spend two days of the year to be away from all forms of noise - our problems and pains, workloads and other responsibilities, etc. We went there to listen to the yearnings of our hearts and deepen our relationship with God and with ourselves. I stayed and decided to live up to the purpose of our retreat.

On my moments alone, I realized that I am like an empty cup, always thirsting for those which I do not have and for what I am lacking. And many times, the temptation was so great, yet my soul was empty.

I took time to reflect on what are the more important things in life - what I must fill my cup with and what I must pour out.

I was also able to reflect on my relationship with my family, friends, the people I work with, students, other people and God. I discerned what God is inviting me to do.

I let out all the negative emotions and pains. I accepted that it's now time to let go of the things and the people who are gone.

I wasn't able to stop tears from falling. I haven't cried for a while. It felt really good afterwards.

In answer to my friend's question, Yes, the two days spent on retreat were worth much. When I came back, I was somehow a better and more positive person. I can now give and share more to my students.

I believe that in one way or another, we all need to have a retreat even for a while.

Note: I can't wait for my next retreat. But it sure won't be a required one. I'll have it my way!

Happy at 22

I attended the GRP-MILF symposium on present issues last Friday. I said (and wrote in my previous post) that I will relive the days of meaningful journalism. But only minutes after I took a seat to listen to the speaker, I could not anymore contain my impatience. I'm a poor listener and I easily get sleepy. The inevitable happened - I left and slept at the Faculty Lounge. I decided that I would not blog again until I have this one good relevant post regarding social issues.

But here I am, without a post on social issues (specifically on the events here in Mindanao) because I have no understanding of the issue. I am not making good a promise. But this is for a very special reason - I'm in Youngblood today! In the August 26, 2008 issue.

I would like to say that I'm floating. But that is not really what I feel. I am happy, just simply happy.

It had been my dream when I was in high school to write for Youngblood. It remained a dream because I never really submitted anything. I had a lot of stories but I did not have the courage and the confidence. I thought that Youngblood is only for the good creative writers. And I was no creative writer (and I don't consider myself a creative writer even now). Yes, I wrote for my publications in my elementary, secondary and tertiary years - but only news articles and sometimes, editorial, but always from a third person point of view.

Youngblood way of writing just isn't my way.

I stopped patronizing Youngblood during college. Maybe it was my defense mechanism because I knew that I would never realize my dream.

So why am I in Youngblood?

Because I learned that Youngblood contributors are not gods. Just like me and everyone else, they are people here on earth. We share the same space and breathe the same air. They have life experiences - happy and sad; and they, too, are not perfect. I now believe that there is only one qualification in order to be part of Youngblood - you must have a story to tell. And we have a lot of stories to share! Therefore, we can all write for Youngblood.

Youngblood is not as high as I thought it was.

I have always been insecure as a writer. This insecurity is manifested even in this Blog. I knew that I have limitations. I had more posts months ago than recently. When I realized that fellow writers read and have read my posts, I became conscious, thus, I stopped writing. This YB experience somehow gave me assurance that my writing is not so bad.

I don't want to make a big deal out of this. But come on, this is a dream come true! So for me, this is somehow big. Hehe.

And many will not escape my thanks!

• Jude - the guy who gave me the idea that Youngblood is within reach. Thanks for encouraging me, although you may not be aware of it :-)
• Ate and Eric - Guys, nauna ako sa inyo!!! Kayo rin ha. I had my first experience of YB through them. They were and still are avid fans of it. They cut articles from Inquirer that's why the articles were always available for my consumption.
• Mama - for believing in whatever I do, whether I'm good at them or not. Imagine, she actually believes that I'm a good singer and dancer! But then, she's a mother. She would believe in anything.
• Papa - well, he's not really a fan of a "me-myself-and-I" way of writing. He would probably not consider my article a journalistic piece. But thanks for the genes anyway, hehe.
• Bro Willy and the people who inspired me to live a Marist life and commit myself to service.
• Fans and supporters - especially Menardo, Ma'am Tess, Sir Jet, VOICE (2003-2006), VOX and SSG pipol, former classmates, dearest friends, etc.
• Journalism mentors - Mama, Ma'am Badet, Sir Gilbert, etc.
• And yeah, my two most favored stuffed toys - Emmy and Rolly, for the companionship and loyalty.

Oh, I almost forgot. I celebrated my 22nd birthday three (3) days ago and this is the best gift I have received. In a lunch with friends, I was asked what my birthday wish was. And I said this: I want to have an article of mine published in Youngblood. Of everything I could have wished and asked for at the moment, this had been my answer. And yes, it was given. Thanks :-)

Note: I'm not sure if I'm really on Youngblood. I was informed through text by both Jude and Bro Willy, but the August 26 issue of the newspaper is not available at the Library and the latest YB article on Inquirer.net is dated August 23. There is still the possibility that I reacted too early. Hehe. Hopefully, this is not a joke.

Losing and (Hopefully) Finding Myself

Am I lost? Not literally. But I feel so lost.

I couldn't write. I don't want to read. I have sleeping problems. I again start to question things. I'm so bored. Yes, I still like what I'm doing. I don't think quitting is an option. It's just that I want more but I don't know what the "more" means.

Maybe I ask a lot from myself. Maybe I think a lot. Maybe I'm ok. Maybe I'm not.

And many more maybes.

Or maybe I like the idea of being like this. Because I'm bored. Whatever. Anyway, I won't blog for a while. I'm drained. And I want to try doing other things. Jeez, I'm so inconsistent.

Be happy everyone! Or try to be. Whatever.

Ciao. For now

Perfect Scores

I want my students to get perfect scores. A week before the examinations, I gave them individual and group review quizzes, hoping that this strategy will increase their chances of mastering the topics. Aside from review quizzes, I also scheduled consultations.

I give this assurance: my exam items were easy and had been discussed thoroughly in class. Yes, there were a few tricky questions; but if they would really analyze, they’d easily get them right.

I teach business subjects and all of them, in one way or another, are related to management. The first function of management is planning, which starts with setting goals and objectives. I constantly inspire my students to practice this and in the process, I, too, have set my goals.

And for this midterm exams, I was hoping (still am hoping) that many would get perfect scores. But now, it seems that such is too much to ask.

Six of my seven classes have already taken their exams. I have checked more than a hundred out of almost 300 papers on hand.

No perfect score yet. The highest score so far is 69 over 70. What's alarming is that some students got less than half of the total. I don't want to be disappointed or frustrated. I do not want negative feelings to rule over me.

Maybe perfect scores aren't so important. I don't think they mind not getting perfect. Many are actually satisfied with passing marks. So I better stop assuming that they feel the same way I do. Perfect scores (in minor subjects) ruled over my life when I was in college. I could never forgive myself then if I had mistakes.

Again, they are not me.

Still, I'm hoping that they be motivated to be serious in their studies - listen to discussions, read books/materials, set goals and achieve them, etc. And if they can, I hope that they get perfect in exams; if not this midterms, then in the finals.

I'm Not Unhappy!

My bbf (best bud forever) Kris, at my urging, finally bought a sun cellular sim. We haven’t talked for a month so there was a major catching up. The call lasted 20 minutes.

The two topics of our talk were their review and my life here at Marbel.

He gave me the latest news on their end – preboard scores, dorm feuds, sacrifices, sufferings and the hesitations on taking the October CPA Licensure Exams.

May of them, including him, are considering prolonging their agony (review) to ensure that they pass the board on their first take. The results of their 2nd preboard weren’t so good. So I gave my unsolicited advice: take the board on October!

There is no difference between taking the board this October and fail; and taking it in May. Because if they fail in October, then they take the exams again on May. At least they would already know what awaits them.

There is not much to lose but there is so much to gain. Of course, there is the possibility of passing. If not totally passing, they may become "conditional", meaning, they will only have to retake two subjects on May. With the latter, at least they can start working on November; or can concentrate reviewing the subjects to be taken again.

Great. The one who is not sweating and having sleepless nights, the classmate who will not take the exams and who does not know whether she will be able to actually take it (that's me), spoke as if she knew a lot.

I somehow feel guilty (just "somehow"). While the whole class is there in the battlefield - others are on the verge of crying and others are actually crying, here I am, living a relaxed life at Marbel.

Speaking of my life, it has become an issue, too. Apparently, when Kris dropped by at our place in GenSan to give the first draft for the yearbook, my mother took the opportunity to share what she believes is my unhappy life.

My parents visited me two weeks ago and my mother claims that her precious beloved (and spoiled) child is not happy because of the ff. reasons:
1. I have a witch landlady. (Why did I tell her what I feel for that woman?!)
2. I don't know anyone in the dorm. So my dormmates aren't my friends. According to mom, what if something happens to me, who would help?
3. My room is ugly, smelly and gloomy. Come on, as if our house in GenSan is a palace.
4. I have no one to talk to. Rebuttal: I talk to my stuffed toys. They listen and actually answer back. Hehe.
5. The water smells foul. No problem really because aside from my being deaf and half-blind, I also have a very poor sense of smell.

Had she openly asked me if I am happy or unhappy, she will surely be assured that there is nothing to worry.

Why did I have to hear her sentiments from a third party? She tried to tell me last weekend. I did not let her go on because I never really thought that she was serious. Now, Kris believes that I am unhappy and would probably tell the rest of our friends, too. I won't explain. I have nothing to explain!

I don't understand how they equate happiness with clean water or a nice landlady. Funny.

I am not unhappy. I'm not very happy, too. I'm fine; and I am fine with just being fine. I hope that makes sense.

My Taxi File

Last night, I read a youngblood article entitled The Taxi Files. And I remembered a not-so-happy incident concerning a taxi ride in Manila a year ago.

I'm a courteous person. I have respect for the elders and I am extra-sensitive to the poor. But I am extremely opinionated and principled. And I will never keep my mouth shut if I feel that I am, or any person, is abused. I will always defend my friends regardless of situation.

We took a taxi ride from Mall of Asia to Market-Market in Taguig. Taxis are required to use the meter system where passengers must pay what's on the meter. But taxi drivers in Manila have this illegal system of imposing a mark up. If you won't agree, they would not accommodate you.

There were six of us in the group. We would not fit in one taxi so we divided the group into two. Daryl and James were with me while Inday and Rom were with Sir Mark. The other group left first, with an agreement with the driver that they pay P30 mark up (additional to the bill). It took us longer to find a taxi who's willing to take us to Taguig. Grrr, they were so papresyo. Finally, one taxi was willing. The driver was talking to the other drivers there while we put our luggage in the taxi. We did not really listen to them. What's important was that we could finally leave.

When we reached Market-Market, with the others already there, I paid what's on the meter and an additional P30. But the driver insisted that during the negotiation with the other drivers at MOA, it was decided that we pay a P50 mark-up. Great, so other drivers negotiated on our behalf.

I was almost willing to pay without complaints. I was tired and I wanted the driver to just get lost. But James was arguing with the driver. He was talking about fairness and all. If I gave in to the driver's demands without a fight, James would have felt betrayed. The three from the other taxi were also butting in. Daryl didn't care because he didn't have money anyway. And he knew I'd pay the bill.

James set out the status quo, meaning, how much mark-up the other group paid. I knew that the debate would go on and on if I did not put a closure. For the sake of argumentation, I told the driver (shouted is probably more reflective): Wala kayong values. Walang love of work! In the first place, we are only required to pay what's on your meter. There, go take P50. Sana masaya na kayo. Mukhang pera.

Yeah, I said a lot. The driver did not give his rebuttals. He took the money and left.

What did my act accomplish?
James did not feel defeated.
We felt that we applied our principles and we held on to Sir Mark's famous motto (popular to us): It's not about the money, it's the act.
We felt that we were more value-oriented people than the driver/s in Manila.

Did it prove that I was a better person than that driver? No. I actually stooped down to his lowly level.

I don't really know how it could have been handled more appropriately. Anyway, I'm not looking back wishing I didn't say what I said. And if anything could be changed, I would have conveyed my message in a nicer way.

But can there really be a nicer way in telling a greedy person that he has no values?

Slash

I've been wanting to have my hair cut for many months now. I wanted to have a new look last Christmas, for graduation, before my first day at work and many times in between. But I never had the courage and energy to enter a salon and just get on with it.

Mother wanted me to keep my hair long and has many times told me that cutting it would break her heart. I don't know how having a haircut could affect her so much. I heeded because I constantly reminded myself that it was I who made all the decisions in everything else in my life. My hairstyle is such a small thing.

But looking at the mirror everyday and seeing how ugly, brittle and consumed with split ends my hair was, the urge to have a haircut became greater. And yesterday, when I couldn't take it anymore and while my parents were out, I finally went to a salon.

I was lying on the couch watching tv, then got up supposedly to get something to eat. Then the thought once again occurred, I want a haircut. I knew that there is a salon on the next block. Without rationalizing, I got my comb and purse and headed for the salon. Some five minutes later, I found myself knocking on the gate of a house that had a signboard "Angel's Salon" (if I remember it right).

An old lady came out and I told her that I want a haircut. "May sakit si Angel, umiinom nga kami ng orange juice kasi wala s'yang panlasa," she answered. Then Angel came out saying that it's okay, she can manage. I hesitated a little but I could not turn away and say No, I don't trust this kid (she looks like a high school student) with my hair. I'm also very idle and I don't like the idea of going back home to get changed so that I will be presentable in going to a salon in the city. That would be too time and energy consuming. That salon and the kid were good enough.

When I got inside the house (salon), she asked what kind of cut I wanted and what length did I want it to be. There were no magazines to check out and I know only two styles, slash and straight. I didn't think I wanted it straight so I said I wanted a slash. She got a pair of scissors that looked like normal scissors, not the type used in normal salons. Oh my. And I thought that perhaps I was getting punished because I was betraying my mother and having my hair cut behind her back. But I did not complain and I decided to trust the sick girl. Good luck to my hair.

I tried not to look at how she was doing her thing. But I could make out that she did not do it the same way other stylists did. Huhu. Still, she heard nothing from me.

While she was cutting (and slashing?) my hair, my thoughts wandered. I remembered that it was years ago when I had my last haircut. And many times before, the decision was always easy to make. I did it when something major came to my life - I was very happy over something, I got an award or citation, my heart got broken, I was letting go of things/people, etc. And I asked myself, So what happy or heartbreaking thing happened to me? But I couldn't point out anything. For the first time, I had my hair cut because I wanted it cut. Period. It's not really very ugly. I have only given that as an excuse. I also did not do it because I wanted to defy my mother. It breaks my heart every time I defy her. Yet I always do. Hehe.

After thirty minutes, I was back in front of the television. Done is my hair. Did the sick young stylist make me beautiful? No, for I still have the same face and features. But I surely felt better because I finally did it. I hope that every morning when I look in the mirror, I wouldn't say bad things about my hair anymore. But then, if I do, my hair can still get shorter. Hehe.

Note: Mama did not even realize I had a haircut!!! How could she?! My hair is now three or more inches shorter. Something must be very wrong with her eyes. But it's a good thing. At least I did not have to explain. And what she doesn't know won't hurt her. Hehe

I'm No Blogging Addict

Bo Sanchez wrote:
All addictions, whether to drinks, food, shopping or sex, are an escape from feelings we don't want to face.

Very well said. And it supports my claim that I'm no blogging addict!! I'm spending an hour or so a day, I seldom miss (but I did for almost a week, straight), on blogging - writing and reading blogs. At some point, the thought occurred to me that perhaps I'm beginning to become addicted to this. Or I already am addicted.

I always justify that this is not an addiction, but a way to express myself - feelings, thoughts, ideas, interests, etc.

And after I've read Bo's article about negative emotions - how people sometimes run away from them through their addictions, I feel better. . . Because I certainly am not running from negative emotions through blogging.

Blogging has given me a way to acknowledge negativities and conquer them. Yehey! I'm no blogging addict.

Haha. I'm reading inspirational books. Ate Kamz said (or implied) that an excellent reader reads anything and everything. Why am I justifying myself? Really, Bo's articles are funny, amusing, sometimes self-centered but you can surely relate. And yes, they are quite inspiring, too.

PS: I am not blogging as much as I used to; not really because I have not much to say. . . I don't know. Maybe I'm over the "overwhelmed" stage. But I still intend to keep blogging.

Confessions of a pet lover

I've always been into animals. I remember, when I was in grade school, I would save my baon to buy chicks. At the time, they were sold at the city market and in a stall in Lagao at P20 each. I've bought more than 10 chicks and only 1 came to live with me until maturity. The others died or were saved by people who could better take care of them. I never allowed my parents or neighbors touch my precious surviving pet chicken.

My father bought me a turtle which I eventually lost. Well, it actually escaped. I'm a freedom-lover and I did not want my pets to feel as though they were prisoners. I left my turtle in a planggana. Later, it swam in the canal and of course never came back.

Because my parents tried very hard not to play favorites (or pretended that there is no favorite), they bought my siblings and I three ducklings, one for each of us. It was just a front; for my sister and brother were never into pets. I claimed all three ducklings and my siblings couldn't care less. My joy with having them was a little longer than with the turtle. They at least spent the night with me, on my bed, and the next day swam in the canal. Never even bothered to say good bye! They, too, never came back. I've had birds, white mice and cats as well.

My fondness for animals is probably attributed to missing farm life and the animals we used to have. . .

But when I was in high school, I forgot about them. I was busy with barkada, activities, UAAP, movies, contests, crushes and orgs. While in college (in later years), my interest in having pets again surfaced. I got a dog which looks like the one in the movie, The Mask. I'm not sure of the breed but it's no asong kalye, although I got teased by friends that my beloved dog was ugly. It's small, playful and very much into me. I named him Du, the term of endearment of a special friend and I (eeewww).

During Regional PRISAA held in GenSan where I was a facilitator, I stayed at school even in the evenings. One time when I went home to get clothes, Du was making kulit and followed the trisikad when I left. The dog must have missed me so much. I thought he could find his way back home because he usually did. Apparently, he never came back. My parents thought that I took him to school because I have done so many times before.

When I learned that he's missing, after PRISAA when I finally got home, I was broken. I swore that I will find him no matter what. I felt very guilty because I did not make sure that he was safe at home. He must have tried to really get to me and eventually got lost.

With my brother, who does everything I tell him to do, I looked for Du first in our subdividion, then in the purok and barangay. We walked and walked, called out his name but no Du emerged. After months, I still looked around, hoping that I'd find him. But I never did.

I thought I'd never have another dog. Then came Twofi. Why the name, it's a long story.... He's a labrador. At four months, he was already big but could not walk yet. I carried him a lot then. He's got these wonderful, expressive eyes. I really loved Twofi. But it was hard taking care of such a big dog. And he has o.a. and exag needs - shampoos, food, etc.

He was very attached to me, like most labradors are to their owners. He'd like us to play always. I just didn't have the time. When I'd leave for school, he'd cry but I couldn't do anything about it. He'd run to me and spoil my uniform. A lot of times, I went to school not in uniform because Twofi got them dirty. Speaking of dirt, he poops a lot, too! And the time came when I didn't want to look at him anymore because it would be hard to get away, physically and emotionally.

My parents were busy as well so we had to let him go. He was given to a co-teacher of my mother who promised to give us a child of Twofi. It was sad parting with him but at least I know where he is, and that he's safe.

Then came Mac2X. I bought him from a friend of a friend - half Japanese spitz (?) and half something else. He's really very cute and is such an attention seeker. He has some eeww habits though. His favorite activity was masturbating on my big lion stuffed toy. I never held that lion toy again.

I know I could keep Mac but when a cousin visited and took an interest in him, my parents found an easy way to rid of my dog. I couldn't complain much because I wasn't the one grooming him. I was always out. I never cleaned his dirt. I wasn't being a responsible pet owner. And they promised that Mac would be available when I am available. So Mac is with my cousin now and is very much loved there.

But the pet that had the biggest impact in my life is Cara, my baby rabbit. This story got this long and far, without my intention, but the real story lies in Cara. After the introduction, finally, we got to her. . . .

Cara was bought in Gaisano when she was two weeks old. She was very cute and adorable, with yellow hairs. Everyone just loved her. She was popular among fellow student leaders, too. They would drop by at the SSG Office to have a look at her and bring her food. Officers never complained even if the office and the tables were filled with Cara's dirt. She was part of all the activities - Acquaintance parties, meetings, etc. I brought her to Water Gran for the Leadership Seminar but left her on the second day to my colleagues because I had to go back to GenSan for a competition. When I got back to her, she was sick. She would not eat and was in a very poor condition. The inevitable happened, Cara died. And her first death anniversary was last July 21, 2008.

That was one of the saddest days of my life, not only because I lost a pet I loved so much but because I received one of the most important lessons in life the hard way. As a human being, I took control over other beings, in this case, Cara, but I was not responsible. I treated Cara as a trophy, a pet to show off to other people. She was constantly passed from one hand to another like she's a toy. I gathered all the rewards of being the pet owner but I never really took care of her. All these I acknowledged during the memorial service my co-officers and I gave to Cara.

Her remains lie at the grounds of Water Gran. And she will forever remind me and all the others whose lives she touched that we must not take for granted those that are given to us and that we must always be responsible.

Many times I was tempted to buy another rabbit but never got to. It's either I reminded myself of Cara or I got reminded by friends and family about her. Oftentimes it's the latter. In time, when I am ready, I will again have another bunny....

No Regrets

The National Youth Commission identified days ago the 28 youth delegates from the different regions in the coutry who will represent the Philippines to the 35th Ship for Southeast Asia Youth Program (35th SSEAYP) which will be on October 21- December 25, 2008.

The participants will have a training this week at Tagaytay. The National Youth Commission was calling me yesterday morning. I was aware of the calls. But I could not dare press the 'Answer' button. I saw what was coming. I did not stop what I was doing; and after some 15 minutes and around 8 missed calls, the battery of my phone drained. I let it be. I could have charged the phone but I did not. I waited until I got home in the evening to do the charging.

Apparently, NYC continued its efforts to reach me but decided at 5pm to get a filler for me from the National Capital Region. I myself am supposed to be a filler. One of the female official delegates could not attend the training because she was hospitalized, I had been told through text. I was next in rank, so I was to fill in for her.

I could not join the program and I have my reasons; reasons which I do not have the courage to tell the NYC people. Because in the first place, I applied and showed interest to the program. But things have changed.

Joing the SSEAYP entails leaving NDMU, after working here for only a month and a half. I have to go to Manila for the training and stay there to process documents for travel. I could not drop everything now. I hold seven classes. There may be other faculty members who could fill in but I will cause so much complications, discomfort and burden. I do not have the heart to face the administrators who openly accepted me despite perhaps my lack of qualifications; and tell them now that I'm leaving because of greater opportunities.

By committing to SSEAYP, I will enter the world of uncertainty. I am not really afraid of the uncertain. I am a person who welcomes challenges and adventure. But this is different. There are more entities to consider. And I have found a place for myself already. I love what I do and I have committed myself to so many activities in the College of Business. If I leave, I cannot assume that they will take me back, after leaving them hanging in the air. . .

I do not want to let go of the weekends in GenSan; the sembreak and Christmas break, the only times that I see my brother and spend time with him; the trip to Davao this 26th to see former classmates and take entrance exams for Masteral; the dinners and outings with friends; and more.

Because I seem to have countless excuses, perhaps I don't deserve to be part of the program and the endless possibilities that it can give me - meeting people, going to different countries, engaging in activities. Maybe it is just right that I won't be there.

I don't regret letting the SSEAYP experience slip away but I do regret how badly I responded to the situation. I should have been more responsible. I should have faced them by accepting the call (although I still do not know how I could answer them). Where are my values?! Wasn't I taught that the best and only way to face anything dreadful is to be honest... And this I had not been.

There are lessons learned. I certainly won't be such a coward again. I've learned to check on my priorities and also consider other people. My decisions do not only affect me but also others.

From here, I can only move on. I am happy to be where I am now. I have all the things that make me happy at my hand. I may not be happy about my poor attitude toward NYC but I intend to be more responsible from now on.

I am not a person who lives with "What ifs." At the end of the day, what matters most is that I am the one who makes my choices and I am happy with them (minus not answering the phone).

I hope the NYC won't take this against me, should I hope to apply for other programs in the future. . .

100 Dreams

July is Leadership Month in NDDU. The annual leadership training is usually conducted on the third week of this month. So it will be on July 19th this year.

I remember (just now) a particular activity we facilitators underwent two years ago in preparation for the training. Facilitators had to undergo the activities first because we will not be able to have those during the seminar proper.

So the particular activity that I remember now is writing down 1oo dreams. I never got to write a hundred. I wrote around 30. And at the top of my list was to become a CPA Board topnotcher. Funny, it seems now. At the time, it was actually my greatest dream. . .

Hmmm. . . Maybe I'll write down my hundred dreams now and finally complete the list. I'm not really sure whether the topnotch thing is still included. More likely, it is not. But I am sure I can have a hundred others written down.

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J O U R N E Y

Life is a journey and hopefully, we all make ours meaningful. Hehe. Here are some tips on journeying, written by yours truly, inspired by other people, readings and my experiences. . .

1. Know where you are going. Set a goal and achieve it.
2. Be prepared. Pack well. But do not bring excessive baggage.
   
3. Do not hurry. There is really no rush.
   
4. Do not take short cuts. Your journey might end too soon.
5. Care to look at the sights. Some may be beautiful, others are not so. Appreciate them nonetheless.
6. Have stopovers. Take pictures or buy souvenirs. They will remind you of the wonderful journey.
7. Talk to people. They have wonderful stories to tell. They can give directions, too.
   
8. Leave things along the way. They will help you find the way back when you get lost.
9. Pick up people who need a ride but could not afford. It's always nice to be of help.
10. Enjoy and always have fun!!!

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Inspired ako. . .

Having a blog account gives me an opportunity to read the thoughts of other people. And after clicking this and that, I came across this specific post of one fellow blogger. It's about the things that she feels inspired to do. . . Due to lack of originality (o baka na-inspire nya rin ako), I'd like to post those which I'm inspired to do, too. . . I'll try to communicate my thoughts in my native language, Filipino, which I am not very good at.

Inspired akong:

1. Matulog. Kailangan ba ng inspirasyon sa pagtulog o ma-inspire matulog? Ewan. Gusto kong palaging natutulog; at masarap matulog; at masaya ako habang natutulog at tuwing pagkatapos matulog (in other words, masaya ako paggising); at sa paggising, gusto ko nanamang matulog. . .
2. Kumain. Wala na akong pakialam kung tataba man ako o hindi. No more rules sa type of food at quantity of food. Inspired akong kumain dahil masarap ang pagkain at kinikita ko ang pinambibili ko ng pagkain. . . Actually, masaya lang talaga ang kumain at masaya ang buhay kaya dapat hindi pinipigilan ang sarili sa pagkain!!! Kung meron lang din naman. . .
   
3. Matuto. Ang blog na ito ang isa sa mga produkto ng inspirasyong ito. Inspired akong matuto lalo na sa mga related sa kahinaan ko, una sa listahan ang gaheto. Isali na rin ang pagsusulat sa wikang Filipino. Maliban sa mga gaheto at teknolohiya, inspirado rin akong matuto ng marami pang bagay na may kinalaman sa buhay, pamilya, pag-ibig, pagkakaibigan, pag-aaral at marami pa. . .
   
4. Magsulat. Napakatagal na panahon akong nalayo sa interes na ito dahil sa hindi gaanong masayang mga rason. Dalawang taon at sampung buwan!!! At sa blog ko pa nagawa itong muli.
   
5. Magbasa. Ang mga aklat ay tinuturing kong mga kaibigan. At tulad ng pagkakaibigan, ako at ang aking mga aklat ay may mga pinagdadaanan. Hindi sa lahat ng panahon ay nagkakasundo kami ng aking mga nababasa kaya dumadaan din kami sa mga pag-aaway, dulot ng individual differences. Pero sa huli, nananaig ang pagkakaibigan.
6. Magturo. Ito ang pinakamasaya at pinaka-rewarding (haha, ang hirap i-translate) na trabahao. Syempre opinyon ko lang ito. Sa pagtuturo, ako ay natututo rin. Sobra.
7. Maging Masaya. Tumawa ng malakas. Umiyak habang tumatawa. Basta, maging laging masaya.
   
8. Marami pa.

Ang hirap mag-Filipino. . .

Runners Do Get Tired

For many years, I have been running. I've won many and lost some.

A few months ago, after my latest and most triumphant run, I suddenly felt the need to stop, and I did, with no rush to conquer another finish line.

Every athlete ages, gets tired, retires...

I don't think those were my reasons for taking a break. Yes, I may have stopped running. But this is only for a while- to rest, to listen.

Sometimes, we see life as a never-ending track and field match. We tend to forget to look deeper and appreciate the miles we have covered, the places we passed by and the people we meet along the way. We are so focused on the finish line. We run for the sake of running and winning, with no greater purpose.

It may not be too late for me. I am now taking one step at a time, absolutely not rushing; certainly not caring whether fellow runners get ahead of me. There is no need to achieve record-breaking runs. I will enjoy the walk and let God guide me......
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Love Story on Hold

During college, when the idea of writing crosses my mind, I would immediately make accounts of my latest love obsession. I would start my story with the overwhelming feelings I had - the heart that stops beating, the meeting of the eyes, the assumptions and illusions.

I may have started my stories well but they never had an ending. In the end, I kept them to myself and ultimately, with the change of heart (crush), the articles evaporated together with the feelings.

So consumed I had been with love or the idea of it that I never entertained doing more meaningful literary works. But then, such job was not expected of me. I had been the copyreader in the publication, never the writer. And with the many articles I've checked (others were modified, others underwent major overhauls), I never had much chance to have anything of mine published.

Perhaps I took so much pride finding faults in other writers' works that I was afraid it would backfire. They might find fault in mine - signs of too much self-pride and egotism. But I believe that through the years, I have developed better and stronger values, hopefully, hehe.

I disassociated myself from the publication almost three years ago, so goodbye copyreading. And in the years since then, I grew farther away from journalism (No thanks to you Riki, hehe). I tried another career path.

Surprisingly, when I took on blogging, the idea of writing about a love story never occurred. It had been only now that I remeber how I had been as a writer years ago. Change certainly is constant.

But this does not mean that I will never write my love story again. I will just have to wait, for of course I have yet to experience one.

This time, I will be patient and hopefully, I can finish the story. It will be the first.
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No See, No Hear

I've been living a life of an hermit..... Alone and believe me, loving almost every minute of it. This change of heart is probably the effect of too much exposure for the past many years (hehe).

I used to avail of the unlimited text. Now, I could not even send more than 20 text messages in a day, most of which are lav u, mis u messages to parents and siblings. And that is not due to lack of textmates. It's the lack of will to text. Sayang nga ang alltext. Magastos rin kung regular load.

And here's the routine: bhaus - faculty room - classroom - faculty room - library - internet room - faculty room - bhaus. Boring!? But lots of thanks to the free library and internet service access. Hehe. But can you believe that I actually settle for this and probably won't change the routine. And who do I talk to? Co-teachers, students, dean......... I haven't had a real talk about life-related topics in many days now. Oh, except the 3 hours spent with friends in GenSan. And none since then.

For now, this is life for me.......... For how long, I don't know.

No tragedy

Today, I attended my first mass here at koronadal city. I did not know what time exactly the mass would start. When I left my place, I wasn't decided whether to get in an internet cafe (get things done for the yearbook and check out my friendster), to buy my groceries or to go to church. The internet was more tempting.

I'm not yet familiar with the place, there was no one to ask for directions, it was so hot and I did not know what to say to the tricycle driver. No choice, I had to walk and find out things on my own. I walked and walked and walked and there was no open internet cafe. Is is like this here on Sundays?! And the next thing I knew, I was in front of the church. God does know how to guide. Deep inside, I know, I wanted to go to church.

And I was just in time. There were already so many people and the mass was about to start. I did not miss anything. I looked around, hoping to see familiar faces. Just like back home. But who was I kidding? I'm new here and seem to know no one. The first voice I heard was that of a child who was actually serving during mass. There wasn't just one, but there were many children taking part. Amazing.........

You ask me what the homily was about? I did not understand. It was delivered in Ilonggo. And you see, my knowledge of the dialect is so limited. But I grasped a line. The priest said, (in Ilonggo) Its a tragedy if you do not know what you want. Is it really? For I do not know what I want. Or more of, I know what I want but I make it an excuse to other people that I don't because they could not understand the reasons for my actions........ So this is not a tragedy.

I'm in a place I only considered being in just recently. I'm doing something that I never thought I'd even consider doing, well, until eight months ago. And here I am, in a not-so-far place from home but in a totally different world from where I was expected to be. And I am alone. But this is what I chose. And even at this time when I feel so sad and lonely, I would not choose to pack up and turn away...............

For a long time, the past 21 years, everything was simply given to me. I could say that I had been a brat, a spoiled one. I want something, I get it. If I do not want it, I'd dispose of it and turn away. A friend, Eric, always said then, What Barbie wants, Barbie gets. And in the biggest decision of my life yet, I got what I wanted. But I understand that it would have to be the last "bratty" decision I would make (and have made) because times have changed. I'm now in the world where I am not the boss; no more of getting something because I simply want it or giving it back because I do not want it anymore. I have to learn to be responsible for my actions and stand by my decisions.

Wherever I am now, whatever I do and though there were many great things I have forgone, I am where I belong and mine is no tragedy............