a necessary process in looking for my purpose...
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Friday, May 17, 2013
We are the World
I have the Haiti version of "We are the World" in my phone and found the opening song sung by a young, passionate voice fascinating. I went on to google it and saw articles comparing the original version by Michael Jackson and the new version. There were several criticisms against some artists used in the new version. Initially, I saw what they meant. The talents of the first were amazing. However, as the second video continued to play, I realized that they are rooting for the same cause - to help. And that's all that really matters. And it seems, I started finding myself again. I was saying a lot of things, "Mon Dieu, je voudrais aider mais je ne sais pas comment. Merci beaucoup pour le chance a vivre." I said all sorts of things that made me realize how irrelevant my worries and concerns always were.
I thought I would search for my mission in life and thought I would find that through introspection. In retrospect, all the experience in the past few years may have left me empty and there was nothing to dig further inside. Songs like these, were external sources of inspiration. Although I still want to travel write and sip margaritas by the beach while I write my blog, I could put that to better use by having a more meaningful objective.
My parents are not rich like the Hollywood personalities in this musical piece, they have no international influence nor talent that people would come to pay for and watch. In their own way, however, they have contributed a lot. They gave what they could and never really thought of always making a profit. Maybe to a certain degree, they did. Maybe the driving force behind their actions were different, probably self-serving. But I know they have helped people. And that is something that is not hard to do. What little I can contribute will always have an effect, no matter how tiny the drop.
Friday, February 22, 2013
A Letter to my Children
Dear Mikkael and Khalil,
As a child, I grew up reading fairy tales, Nancy Drew and some encyclopedia (I know, I don’t understand either). I always knew that Prince Charming marries the damsel in distress and they live happily ever after. The damsel is always being mistreated by some evil stepmother or evil stepsisters and is saved by the prince. Charlie’s Angels (if you don’t see the connection, they’re kind of Nancy Drew in that they solve mysteries) were always there to save the day and beat the bad guys up. This balanced my victim view and kindled a superhero feeling. I identify the victim, the superhero and the bad guys in my real life and behave as the author intended, that is, that someone should run and save the victims and beat up the bad guys to straighten them out or even kill them. If I feel I am the intended victim, I defend myself with all weapons I could find – my wit, sheer intelligence, my expertise in what I do, my sharp tongue or my pen – or find a champion, if I could find one, to be the superhero that would defend the oppressed. Growing up in a society where oppression comes in the form of wealth or power, mostly power, I found a venue that cultivated critical thinking and responded to oppression in revolutionary ways – taking things to the streets or writing some masterpiece like “Noli Me Tangere.” I hate any form of bloodbath or fiery confrontations so I usually opt for the written word. If someone else is the victim, I almost always feel obliged to offer some sort of help – a comforting word or unsolicited advice on what could be done.
Its effect is usually twice as lethal. The result is long-lasting, most of the time. Now that is not all media-influenced or university-influenced. A lot of it is genetic. Dad was a Catholic high school principal ever since I could remember. Mom was a public school teacher. Dad grew to having a second job serving the municipality I grew up in and Mom eventually a school principal as well. Dad’s motto was to serve the poor and the underprivileged although he did not say that in many words. He lived and breathed it. In his job, there were a lot of underprivileged and oppressed, both real and imagined. In Mom’s, there were the same. Mom’s motto was to never waste a moment.
In Dad’s school, there were a lot of poor students who could not always pay for tuition fees. Remember, this is the Philippines. High school (or college in New Zealand language) is not free. His job was to educate, not to make profits. As long as he made enough to pay the teachers and print the test papers, that was enough. He would let them take the tests and allow promissory notes. I saw that all the time. I knew generally who was displaying the latest material acquisition but could barely pay for their children’s education because of misguided priorities. Dad was great at lecturing parents or giving unsolicited advice on matters that he found twisted such as those. He is great at that. And that is where I got my lack of tact from. As a public servant, there would be people knocking on our door in the middle of the night asking for help in the form of transportation or financial assistance because someone’s child is very ill or for some aid of sorts. That’s where his salary from both jobs went.
Mom, on the other hand, juggled school work, raising four active boys and a very feisty girl, church and civic work and her orchid garden. Now I really hope you see a beautiful pattern here. We were not abandoned children at all. Lesson one : both parents have several passions. And by passion, I mean that with a similar intensity as the passion Josh displays when he screams at you, Mikkael, most of the time more intense. Lesson two : they walk their talk. They not only tell us, they show us. Lesson three : they live with a purpose – to help those in need and give more than they receive. Lesson four : they live every minute productively. Mom, even though, she’s now retired, is still actively pursuing money, fame and grandeur ☺. Dad, even in his almost-penniless retirement, is still supporting Mom in her pursuits, serving his community, sending you clothing which I could buy cheaper here and lecturing any lucky person he could find. Now don’t think all of that is selfless. They get paid for what they do, whether commensurate or not is another thing. They also get a huge amount of satisfaction from doing all of it. So they please their Maker, themselves and set a good example to those around them. Now it is our job to identify the lessons and learn from them.
There are more lessons I have learned but we will tackle them later on. For this particular chapter, let us focus on this lesson : Dada and Mommy chose to be big fish in small ponds (now this is relative). And by God, they made big waves. You really need to start choosing now. I have somehow not decided what to do. I am having a mid-life crisis of sorts. I do know that I must do something meaningful, like education or helping those in need like Mom and Dad are doing. You see, I don’t see much meaning in what I am doing yet but like I said, I am in a crisis. I may not see it but there’s probably some meaning in it. And in finding your choice, you are never too young to start now.
I know you don’t like these lectures I give because they tend to be long-winding and judgmental and sermon-like, hence writing this. But I really hope you take the time to read it. Now, later, choose your time. I am telling you this because I have been so lucky to learn all of these. I want you to have the same luck. You will be luckier if you actually apply them.
So until the next lessons.
Love,
Mama
As a child, I grew up reading fairy tales, Nancy Drew and some encyclopedia (I know, I don’t understand either). I always knew that Prince Charming marries the damsel in distress and they live happily ever after. The damsel is always being mistreated by some evil stepmother or evil stepsisters and is saved by the prince. Charlie’s Angels (if you don’t see the connection, they’re kind of Nancy Drew in that they solve mysteries) were always there to save the day and beat the bad guys up. This balanced my victim view and kindled a superhero feeling. I identify the victim, the superhero and the bad guys in my real life and behave as the author intended, that is, that someone should run and save the victims and beat up the bad guys to straighten them out or even kill them. If I feel I am the intended victim, I defend myself with all weapons I could find – my wit, sheer intelligence, my expertise in what I do, my sharp tongue or my pen – or find a champion, if I could find one, to be the superhero that would defend the oppressed. Growing up in a society where oppression comes in the form of wealth or power, mostly power, I found a venue that cultivated critical thinking and responded to oppression in revolutionary ways – taking things to the streets or writing some masterpiece like “Noli Me Tangere.” I hate any form of bloodbath or fiery confrontations so I usually opt for the written word. If someone else is the victim, I almost always feel obliged to offer some sort of help – a comforting word or unsolicited advice on what could be done.
Its effect is usually twice as lethal. The result is long-lasting, most of the time. Now that is not all media-influenced or university-influenced. A lot of it is genetic. Dad was a Catholic high school principal ever since I could remember. Mom was a public school teacher. Dad grew to having a second job serving the municipality I grew up in and Mom eventually a school principal as well. Dad’s motto was to serve the poor and the underprivileged although he did not say that in many words. He lived and breathed it. In his job, there were a lot of underprivileged and oppressed, both real and imagined. In Mom’s, there were the same. Mom’s motto was to never waste a moment.
In Dad’s school, there were a lot of poor students who could not always pay for tuition fees. Remember, this is the Philippines. High school (or college in New Zealand language) is not free. His job was to educate, not to make profits. As long as he made enough to pay the teachers and print the test papers, that was enough. He would let them take the tests and allow promissory notes. I saw that all the time. I knew generally who was displaying the latest material acquisition but could barely pay for their children’s education because of misguided priorities. Dad was great at lecturing parents or giving unsolicited advice on matters that he found twisted such as those. He is great at that. And that is where I got my lack of tact from. As a public servant, there would be people knocking on our door in the middle of the night asking for help in the form of transportation or financial assistance because someone’s child is very ill or for some aid of sorts. That’s where his salary from both jobs went.
Mom, on the other hand, juggled school work, raising four active boys and a very feisty girl, church and civic work and her orchid garden. Now I really hope you see a beautiful pattern here. We were not abandoned children at all. Lesson one : both parents have several passions. And by passion, I mean that with a similar intensity as the passion Josh displays when he screams at you, Mikkael, most of the time more intense. Lesson two : they walk their talk. They not only tell us, they show us. Lesson three : they live with a purpose – to help those in need and give more than they receive. Lesson four : they live every minute productively. Mom, even though, she’s now retired, is still actively pursuing money, fame and grandeur ☺. Dad, even in his almost-penniless retirement, is still supporting Mom in her pursuits, serving his community, sending you clothing which I could buy cheaper here and lecturing any lucky person he could find. Now don’t think all of that is selfless. They get paid for what they do, whether commensurate or not is another thing. They also get a huge amount of satisfaction from doing all of it. So they please their Maker, themselves and set a good example to those around them. Now it is our job to identify the lessons and learn from them.
There are more lessons I have learned but we will tackle them later on. For this particular chapter, let us focus on this lesson : Dada and Mommy chose to be big fish in small ponds (now this is relative). And by God, they made big waves. You really need to start choosing now. I have somehow not decided what to do. I am having a mid-life crisis of sorts. I do know that I must do something meaningful, like education or helping those in need like Mom and Dad are doing. You see, I don’t see much meaning in what I am doing yet but like I said, I am in a crisis. I may not see it but there’s probably some meaning in it. And in finding your choice, you are never too young to start now.
I know you don’t like these lectures I give because they tend to be long-winding and judgmental and sermon-like, hence writing this. But I really hope you take the time to read it. Now, later, choose your time. I am telling you this because I have been so lucky to learn all of these. I want you to have the same luck. You will be luckier if you actually apply them.
So until the next lessons.
Love,
Mama
Friday, March 30, 2012
My Eternal Search for Myself
And four years later, I start smiling again, although my sense of smell has not yet fully recovered, nor my love of life back to full throttle. But I will get there. Maybe in a few months or a few more years. I just know I will. I have always been in the upper echelons of the genus homo, the species sapiens. My propensity to survive and to thrive has always been higher than average.
I packed my bags, gave away my shoes and my fabulous, extravagant Middle Eastern lifestyle in exchange for a bright future for my children. This I did without much thought but with a lot of faith and a very strong belief in myself. I did my cost-benefit analysis but forgot the economics of it. But once again, I am getting ahead of myself.
It all started with my high school valedictory address. I talked about the dreams of the graduating class and how we will conquer the world. I envisioned myself going to the region’s best Catholic university, paying my way through it, hopefully not a single cent coming from Dad but just doing it on scholarship and maybe a job waiting on tables or something more exciting. I forgot that I took two university examinations in the past year to some obscure-sounding places that Dad urged me to do. I did both for the opportunity to travel (the tests were in the big city) unsupervised with my friends.
But all those movies in my head changed when the test results came : my University Entrance Test came at 99%. In my euphoric state, I ran barefoot to church to light the candle I promised. I was the first one to get it from my unknown little school and come to think of it, probably my little town. And I really just hoped to pass at 75%. A few days later, I received notice that I got into the quota program of the country’s best Dental School, and in effect into the country’s best university(I didn’t know it was the best university until later. I always thought that Catholic university was the best). I was way into the beginning of the school year when the other university test results came : I got another scholarship into the pre-Medicine program of another reputable state university in my region. I call that a triple whammy. Those were the best years of my life.
Reality struck! The program was very tough, I did not see myself poking into people’s oral cavities growing up and I did not look forward to sitting in another Zoology class cutting open that poor cat or talking about ketones in Organic Chemistry. I moved into the Tourism program of the same university’s main campus an hour away. Once again, I did this without much thought. I still did not know what I wanted to do although I knew I wanted to get into the main campus for the lifestyle. I loved every minute of it!
Fast-forward a few years later, I became a young mother after moving from one job to another. I chose not to marry my son’s father. This was an unthinkable choice in my strictly-Catholic upbringing. Dad supported this decision, though, and Mom was unusually quiet. And I learned to tell the world to shove it! I learned not to care about getting anyone’s approval, not even my family’s. And I learned to stick to a job even if it was not my ideal so I could support my little one. I was not having any single cent from good, old Dad.
And as luck would have it (I really call it blessings from above), I thrived in that job and grew and got poached by a good company and the rest of my story unfolds. This series of promotions was my ticket to an overseas job that paid better and promised a better future for my two children. I had to get married in between and decided to be unmarried. I left the Philippines a happily-single mother of two boys. I was unhappy about having to leave my sons but was resolute in giving them a better future confident in the knowledge that they are probably better off in the caring hands of my efficient, smart, and very strict mother.
My interrupted young womanhood of parties and fun continued in the Middle East. I did not have to cook or clean much as the job I had provided for all that and more. I went to bars for the free ladies’ drinks and hung out with newfound international friends. I visited other Asian and Middle Eastern cities. I sunbathed in the 50-degree heat and had a year-round tan. Three years later, I brought my sons to Dubai. This was always in my head although I did not have a sound plan. My series of promotions, however, gave way to this nagging thought. And that thought (called a goal in the Law of Attraction) finally came to fruition. I brought them to Dubai with me so we could finally be together. I never really understood the point of having a family if Mom or Dad was overseas and just sends money home to the kids. My children deserved better than that.
And once again, reality hit me between the eyes. My cooking skills were practically non-existent and so were my housekeeping skills. My demanding job and family life drove me into denial. I stayed longer at work and made sure we went to the beach the whole day on my days off and pretend that the laundry was not piling up. I made sure the kitchen door was always shut. Those days were filled with hotel lunch buffets on weekends and Pizza Hut deliveries. In the meantime, my Visa and Mastercard balances were growing. So were our closets. We had to wear clean clothes.
Again, I forgot that I have been processing an application to work for residence in New Zealand. Suddenly, our passports came back with the much-coveted visa. But I only had six months to enter the country. I still could not decide. My life was great apart from my home-making disasters. I was being offered a promotion but on the condition that I stay at least six months. The money would definitely be better and the perks bigger. I did my cost-benefit analysis bearing in mind that life is not all about the money. New Zealand won. So I packed our bags and gave everything else away. We were starting a new life and I didn’t want the excess luggage. The kids were resentful as they loved their newfound lives. I told them it was for their own good.
I got a temporary job after five days since arriving and an interview for a proper job(in this case, a hotel job, which is my area of expertise) after a week. I quit my temporary job and started after two weeks.
I wanted to walk out after the first week. It was not what I expected. I felt that I jumped from the pan into the fire. But I had to hold on so I could get my permanent residence. Four years later, here I am, still with the same company, happier with what I am doing albeit not quite challenged professionally. I have learned to cook and my kids actually eat what I cook. I still cannot keep a tidy house but I do clean once in a while. I am back into a physical fitness routine after six years of not bothering. I still do not like to plan but I have learned to look before leaping.
Life is a celebration of the senses, when your nose can smell the scent of expensive linens, or your eyes see the contrast of the reds and the oranges of autumn, or the touch of a slow breeze on your hair, of the excitement of a party coming up. It seems these functions have atrophied in my case. From lack of exercise or great expectations not met, I don’t know. I do know that I will get it back. I do know that I try everyday. And I know my passion for living and for life itself will never wane.
I packed my bags, gave away my shoes and my fabulous, extravagant Middle Eastern lifestyle in exchange for a bright future for my children. This I did without much thought but with a lot of faith and a very strong belief in myself. I did my cost-benefit analysis but forgot the economics of it. But once again, I am getting ahead of myself.
It all started with my high school valedictory address. I talked about the dreams of the graduating class and how we will conquer the world. I envisioned myself going to the region’s best Catholic university, paying my way through it, hopefully not a single cent coming from Dad but just doing it on scholarship and maybe a job waiting on tables or something more exciting. I forgot that I took two university examinations in the past year to some obscure-sounding places that Dad urged me to do. I did both for the opportunity to travel (the tests were in the big city) unsupervised with my friends.
But all those movies in my head changed when the test results came : my University Entrance Test came at 99%. In my euphoric state, I ran barefoot to church to light the candle I promised. I was the first one to get it from my unknown little school and come to think of it, probably my little town. And I really just hoped to pass at 75%. A few days later, I received notice that I got into the quota program of the country’s best Dental School, and in effect into the country’s best university(I didn’t know it was the best university until later. I always thought that Catholic university was the best). I was way into the beginning of the school year when the other university test results came : I got another scholarship into the pre-Medicine program of another reputable state university in my region. I call that a triple whammy. Those were the best years of my life.
Reality struck! The program was very tough, I did not see myself poking into people’s oral cavities growing up and I did not look forward to sitting in another Zoology class cutting open that poor cat or talking about ketones in Organic Chemistry. I moved into the Tourism program of the same university’s main campus an hour away. Once again, I did this without much thought. I still did not know what I wanted to do although I knew I wanted to get into the main campus for the lifestyle. I loved every minute of it!
Fast-forward a few years later, I became a young mother after moving from one job to another. I chose not to marry my son’s father. This was an unthinkable choice in my strictly-Catholic upbringing. Dad supported this decision, though, and Mom was unusually quiet. And I learned to tell the world to shove it! I learned not to care about getting anyone’s approval, not even my family’s. And I learned to stick to a job even if it was not my ideal so I could support my little one. I was not having any single cent from good, old Dad.
And as luck would have it (I really call it blessings from above), I thrived in that job and grew and got poached by a good company and the rest of my story unfolds. This series of promotions was my ticket to an overseas job that paid better and promised a better future for my two children. I had to get married in between and decided to be unmarried. I left the Philippines a happily-single mother of two boys. I was unhappy about having to leave my sons but was resolute in giving them a better future confident in the knowledge that they are probably better off in the caring hands of my efficient, smart, and very strict mother.
My interrupted young womanhood of parties and fun continued in the Middle East. I did not have to cook or clean much as the job I had provided for all that and more. I went to bars for the free ladies’ drinks and hung out with newfound international friends. I visited other Asian and Middle Eastern cities. I sunbathed in the 50-degree heat and had a year-round tan. Three years later, I brought my sons to Dubai. This was always in my head although I did not have a sound plan. My series of promotions, however, gave way to this nagging thought. And that thought (called a goal in the Law of Attraction) finally came to fruition. I brought them to Dubai with me so we could finally be together. I never really understood the point of having a family if Mom or Dad was overseas and just sends money home to the kids. My children deserved better than that.
And once again, reality hit me between the eyes. My cooking skills were practically non-existent and so were my housekeeping skills. My demanding job and family life drove me into denial. I stayed longer at work and made sure we went to the beach the whole day on my days off and pretend that the laundry was not piling up. I made sure the kitchen door was always shut. Those days were filled with hotel lunch buffets on weekends and Pizza Hut deliveries. In the meantime, my Visa and Mastercard balances were growing. So were our closets. We had to wear clean clothes.
Again, I forgot that I have been processing an application to work for residence in New Zealand. Suddenly, our passports came back with the much-coveted visa. But I only had six months to enter the country. I still could not decide. My life was great apart from my home-making disasters. I was being offered a promotion but on the condition that I stay at least six months. The money would definitely be better and the perks bigger. I did my cost-benefit analysis bearing in mind that life is not all about the money. New Zealand won. So I packed our bags and gave everything else away. We were starting a new life and I didn’t want the excess luggage. The kids were resentful as they loved their newfound lives. I told them it was for their own good.
I got a temporary job after five days since arriving and an interview for a proper job(in this case, a hotel job, which is my area of expertise) after a week. I quit my temporary job and started after two weeks.
I wanted to walk out after the first week. It was not what I expected. I felt that I jumped from the pan into the fire. But I had to hold on so I could get my permanent residence. Four years later, here I am, still with the same company, happier with what I am doing albeit not quite challenged professionally. I have learned to cook and my kids actually eat what I cook. I still cannot keep a tidy house but I do clean once in a while. I am back into a physical fitness routine after six years of not bothering. I still do not like to plan but I have learned to look before leaping.
Life is a celebration of the senses, when your nose can smell the scent of expensive linens, or your eyes see the contrast of the reds and the oranges of autumn, or the touch of a slow breeze on your hair, of the excitement of a party coming up. It seems these functions have atrophied in my case. From lack of exercise or great expectations not met, I don’t know. I do know that I will get it back. I do know that I try everyday. And I know my passion for living and for life itself will never wane.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
I will miss you, Hernancito
Today, I attended Hernan's funeral. Hernan is one of my Body Pump teachers. He always made class fun and something to look forward to. And I had a big crush on him. He was only 33. The service was heart-wrenching. His brother, Leo, gave a very moving speech. Briar, his partner, sobbed mid-way. His adopted Mom sang. The man I barely knew but saw a lot of came to life before me. Albeit late. And this is one thing I regret not having done - talking to him or asking him out. A crazy thing but I am really broken-hearted. Such a young life, so full of promise. Just like my little brother who was just there one day and was rudely taken away from us. My heart is screaming with the unfairness of it all. You ask God why these things happen. Why not take away the ones who make others' lives miserable. Lord, I respect Your wisdom and Your reason but I find it unfair that someone like him is taken away so rudely from us. He needs to inspire further, to spread goodness and happiness. Quiero morir. It's selfish, I know, but that's how I feel right now. I don't know if these tears are a continuation of 8 years ago when Litlit had to leave in such a rush, in worse circumstances. My God, please take this pain away. Please let them rest in peace. I don't want them left in limbo because I'm crying. Will I still see them someday? Mon Dieu! S'il te plait!!!
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Post-Surgery
Four days out of surgery, I take out my bandages, all four of them. They look minuscule compared to the enormity of what passed through them. This puts into perspective the relevant from the irrelevant. At the time it was about to happen, it looked humongous. But in the greater scheme of things, it is but a drop in the ocean. There are still wars, there is famine, people have cancer. In this extremely vast universe of joys and sufferings, my little surgery was but an ordinary occurrence.
I only have an ear piercing, no tattoos or any other defilements on my holy temple. I never thought I would have to be ripped open by the scalpels of a world-class surgeon. It was not an impossibility but was a very remote possibility then, considering I am such a hypochondriac. But sometimes, one's best-laid plans don't come to fruition. Then again, even the falling of a leaf has a reason. This one is very obvious really. If not for event A leading to event B, it could have gotten worse. And it could be far more exciting. Let's wait and see.
I only have an ear piercing, no tattoos or any other defilements on my holy temple. I never thought I would have to be ripped open by the scalpels of a world-class surgeon. It was not an impossibility but was a very remote possibility then, considering I am such a hypochondriac. But sometimes, one's best-laid plans don't come to fruition. Then again, even the falling of a leaf has a reason. This one is very obvious really. If not for event A leading to event B, it could have gotten worse. And it could be far more exciting. Let's wait and see.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
A Break
Two days out of surgery, here I am back in my bedroom, laying back like a queen. Food courtesy of Theodora, baby-sitting the other night courtesy of Marie's family. I have been instructed that anything which cannot be lifted with one hand should not be lifted. I am also supposed to be resting but I keep on looking at my bloating tummy and worry how much work needs to be done when I finally return to Les Mills. But the most pressing thought is the issue of true friendship. I saw this in the last two days of this rather hectic life that I have. I learned so much in these last few days than I had in the past few years. I have always been suspicious of people's motives or am always careful about whom I trust. Although I believe in Anne Frank's belief of all people having something good in them, I still hold back because I have seen betrayals. All I am doing is preventing myself from living each day to the fullest by holding back what I can give. Never again!
I will remind myself to tell my children how much I love them. I will show my friends how much I care. I will listen to every conversation directed my way or every problem brought to me. And yeah, I just might ask that cute surgeon out if I find out he's available.
I will remind myself to tell my children how much I love them. I will show my friends how much I care. I will listen to every conversation directed my way or every problem brought to me. And yeah, I just might ask that cute surgeon out if I find out he's available.
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