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.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Salsa
28.08.11
I had my first class last Wednesday, a casual one and loved it. I actually understood what I was doing and understood the music. And I was half in-love with the dance instructor who had cool hands and smooth moves and a very seductive smile. Tango, compared to Salsa, was a bit stilted although I understood it as well. Actually going to a Salsa Milonga tonight, if that's the right term, made me fall in love with it. It's fast, fun, invigorating. I was hoping for a dance with the sexy instructor but was quite happy with the many partners I had. My mistake, holding out and hoping to dance with him by quitting dancing with Wayne, a Kiwi guy who's nice. The same way I do things in life, writing someone off because I like someone in particular. Still haven't learned my lesson. But doing all these has taught me all the lesson I need. And I am learning something new everyday. I guess that's what's important.
Tonight also made me realize there are so many options out there, there is so much fish in this wide ocean. I have just restricted my sights on the small horizon that is work, gym and home. The Latin dance world has so many like-minded souls. If I don't bump into anyone at all, I still would have enjoyed the ride and given it my best. And that's what's important. I want to spend the rest of my life laughing and dancing and having fun. It's not golf or any other pretentious sport that would make me laugh. It's the intoxicating beats of Latin music, the gyrating hips, the euphoric feeling brought by all these. Yes, this is my world!
I had my first class last Wednesday, a casual one and loved it. I actually understood what I was doing and understood the music. And I was half in-love with the dance instructor who had cool hands and smooth moves and a very seductive smile. Tango, compared to Salsa, was a bit stilted although I understood it as well. Actually going to a Salsa Milonga tonight, if that's the right term, made me fall in love with it. It's fast, fun, invigorating. I was hoping for a dance with the sexy instructor but was quite happy with the many partners I had. My mistake, holding out and hoping to dance with him by quitting dancing with Wayne, a Kiwi guy who's nice. The same way I do things in life, writing someone off because I like someone in particular. Still haven't learned my lesson. But doing all these has taught me all the lesson I need. And I am learning something new everyday. I guess that's what's important.
Tonight also made me realize there are so many options out there, there is so much fish in this wide ocean. I have just restricted my sights on the small horizon that is work, gym and home. The Latin dance world has so many like-minded souls. If I don't bump into anyone at all, I still would have enjoyed the ride and given it my best. And that's what's important. I want to spend the rest of my life laughing and dancing and having fun. It's not golf or any other pretentious sport that would make me laugh. It's the intoxicating beats of Latin music, the gyrating hips, the euphoric feeling brought by all these. Yes, this is my world!
Saturday, August 13, 2011
The Violinist
He moves on to an intensely emotional Italian aria and Bocelli's Con Te Partiro. He makes love to his violin with such fervor. The crowd stops and listens. He gets more coins and herbal gifts than the vendors. Which explains why he gets the end stall the following week. The heat of the sun and the emotion brought about by the intensity of his performance prompts him to take off his sweater. The Mediterranean guy could not keep his Blackberry away. I initially thought he was a talent scout but discovered later on that he owns the Turkish stall in the corner. The amazement and the admiration by the audience are almost tangible. The old couple in the corner have not moved an inch. The grandpa in front is absolutely mesmerized and could not help himself and eventually walks over to introduce himself and gush over our maestro. I stay rooted to the pavement and plant my fat behind with a camera aimed at all times looking for "shootable" moments and angles, and reminding myself not to gape as it's not very flattering.
A nice lady at the Charity corner starts her "buy me" spiel on me but hesitates when I told her I am a Unicef global parent. Then again, I told her I wish I could do something more. She told me they accept volunteers but for the love of me, I can't remember the website now. The whole week has just been a blur of activities and thoughts.
He gets relegated to the naughty corner the following Saturday. Unusual for them to get the same artist two Saturdays in a row. This time, the stall owners get more patronage than his violin case.
His spell over me has not waned at all. Sad, though, that there are so many indifferent passersby. Really, how can they not stop and listen to that celestial sound? They go about their business deafly and blindly, almost mechanically. It is a sad sight. His repertoire is slightly similar to the one last week but is no less moving. To me, at least. Oh gorgeous-gorgeous Saturday!
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Looking But Not Touching
Every morning between 2 and 3 o'clock, something wakes me up and keeps me up until I need to take a shower and go to work. This has stopped me from going to the gym because I am worried I will faint if I pushed my body too hard. Putting this on paper makes me think, though, that this is possibly because I have been missing my gym trips and my body is looking for that adrenalin rush. This has nothing to do with anyone thinking about me and waking me up.
I have been overanalyzing this going-on with a guy at work. I decided I liked him and thought would want to get to know him better. I saw him once walking hand in hand with a girl but that somehow did not deter me from wanting to get to know him better. I analyze every scenario of moments with him and put meanings into things said and done. In the end, it could just be my overactive imagination because nothing is happening at all or he is just a committed man which I admire.
I compare what he says to what he does. Take for example his declaration that he is vegetarian and I saw him order a big steak tonight. The egg at the cafeteria the other day gave him away but I just needed more proof. Stepping back again and analyzing his little gestures makes me think, though, that he is as lost as I am. Maybe moreso. I will probably never know that and will always wonder. My good friend advised me to ask him out. Probably not in a million years, not even after 5 glasses of bubbles. And it is probably something I am not too keen to learn about. And it's not fear of rejection (although maybe it is). It could be fear of disappointment. Here's one man that does not intimidate me too much but I really admire. He is good at what he does but I see a few chinks in the armor. Then again, I will never find that white knight I guess. I dunno, I dunno. That is why looking and not touching is way better. That is why window-shopping is more fun sometimes.
My restless thoughts, my restless mind, please settle down.....
I have been overanalyzing this going-on with a guy at work. I decided I liked him and thought would want to get to know him better. I saw him once walking hand in hand with a girl but that somehow did not deter me from wanting to get to know him better. I analyze every scenario of moments with him and put meanings into things said and done. In the end, it could just be my overactive imagination because nothing is happening at all or he is just a committed man which I admire.
I compare what he says to what he does. Take for example his declaration that he is vegetarian and I saw him order a big steak tonight. The egg at the cafeteria the other day gave him away but I just needed more proof. Stepping back again and analyzing his little gestures makes me think, though, that he is as lost as I am. Maybe moreso. I will probably never know that and will always wonder. My good friend advised me to ask him out. Probably not in a million years, not even after 5 glasses of bubbles. And it is probably something I am not too keen to learn about. And it's not fear of rejection (although maybe it is). It could be fear of disappointment. Here's one man that does not intimidate me too much but I really admire. He is good at what he does but I see a few chinks in the armor. Then again, I will never find that white knight I guess. I dunno, I dunno. That is why looking and not touching is way better. That is why window-shopping is more fun sometimes.
My restless thoughts, my restless mind, please settle down.....
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Never Settling For Less
Settling for less is a lesson that I have learned even as a child yet I seem never to get around to applying it to my choices, even the simplest of them. This past weekend I bought Calvin Klein CK One Limited Edition because the packaging looked exciting and there was a bonus magnet toy. Really! When I got the goods, it smelled like everyone else, what else! I know I am a Carolina Herrera person but I seem to forget it every time I am faced with tough choices like these. I had to wear it as I paid for it and yeah, true enough, I smell like everyone else now.
Then there was this guy I met a few years ago – not really my usual but the first dinner turned to lunch and so on and so forth, and yeah before I knew it, two years had passed. The same with that oral-maxillofacial surgeon although I would not call him less, just not my usual but my hunches were right again.
Now, New Zealand could be something else. I used my logic when I chose this country despite loud protests from Dad and Tony. All because of what it could possibly offer my kids. Their protests were not entirely unfounded – it’s twenty years behind the rest of the world, their sense of fashion still sucks, the temperature is absolutely, absolutely horrible and there is nowhere to go for a real party. Plus I don’t honestly know what they do in school. The bus drivers are kind, though, the air is clean, the best salmon and oysters I have ever tasted, and yeah, I eventually found myself a “normal” job – weekends off, holidays off. The remuneration does not count at this moment. I was looking for quality of life, I got it.
The work challenge is something else but hey, one cannot have one’s cake and eat it at all times. By that, I mean, this is not what I have been set out to do. I barely use any of my grey cells but use a lot of my EQ dealing with bozos. It certainly is a test of tough-mindedness and stomach-strength. I guess I am being prepared for something where a lot of that will be needed. Am I being true to myself? To my calling? What is my calling anyway?
Then there was this guy I met a few years ago – not really my usual but the first dinner turned to lunch and so on and so forth, and yeah before I knew it, two years had passed. The same with that oral-maxillofacial surgeon although I would not call him less, just not my usual but my hunches were right again.
Now, New Zealand could be something else. I used my logic when I chose this country despite loud protests from Dad and Tony. All because of what it could possibly offer my kids. Their protests were not entirely unfounded – it’s twenty years behind the rest of the world, their sense of fashion still sucks, the temperature is absolutely, absolutely horrible and there is nowhere to go for a real party. Plus I don’t honestly know what they do in school. The bus drivers are kind, though, the air is clean, the best salmon and oysters I have ever tasted, and yeah, I eventually found myself a “normal” job – weekends off, holidays off. The remuneration does not count at this moment. I was looking for quality of life, I got it.
The work challenge is something else but hey, one cannot have one’s cake and eat it at all times. By that, I mean, this is not what I have been set out to do. I barely use any of my grey cells but use a lot of my EQ dealing with bozos. It certainly is a test of tough-mindedness and stomach-strength. I guess I am being prepared for something where a lot of that will be needed. Am I being true to myself? To my calling? What is my calling anyway?
Saturday, July 9, 2011
It's been over a year since I started looking for my mission again and I've lost my focus. Yet I learned a lot of things along the way. I'm not in a rush. It's just beneath my nose, I guess. And a friend once said something about overanalyzing, expecting too much of one's self. Yes, I do both. The good thing is, I am taking things slowly, allowing time to absorb my surroundings, my current state and living in the moment.
I have learned the basics of tango nuevo, have started hitting the gym, can lift 7 kilos at Body Pump, can bake a good chocolate cake and carrot cake, get thanks from the boys for the meal they just had, got Mikkael to get up a bit earlier for school, saw him through his A's in Physics and Chem, and Josh learning to stand up for himself. Plus a lot of other things.
The year has not been wasted at all. I've gone through a few books and have a renewed zeal for life. I have also found someone interesting, a miracle.
My writing has taken a turn for the worse but constantly stimulating these neural pathways will correct that. I just have to keep myself focused. Yes, focus is my dilemma as always. Because I want to have my cake and eat it, because I get greedy, because I want to be superwoman.
The good thing, I can genuinely smile at adversities - at a superior who has not seen kindness, at circumstances that are less-than-ideal, I have found my missing fortitude. Yes, there is light at the end of this tunnel, the sun does smile behind the dark clouds.
I have my Savior to thank for this, my Intercessor, the Source of my strength, the Source of my breath....
I have learned the basics of tango nuevo, have started hitting the gym, can lift 7 kilos at Body Pump, can bake a good chocolate cake and carrot cake, get thanks from the boys for the meal they just had, got Mikkael to get up a bit earlier for school, saw him through his A's in Physics and Chem, and Josh learning to stand up for himself. Plus a lot of other things.
The year has not been wasted at all. I've gone through a few books and have a renewed zeal for life. I have also found someone interesting, a miracle.
My writing has taken a turn for the worse but constantly stimulating these neural pathways will correct that. I just have to keep myself focused. Yes, focus is my dilemma as always. Because I want to have my cake and eat it, because I get greedy, because I want to be superwoman.
The good thing, I can genuinely smile at adversities - at a superior who has not seen kindness, at circumstances that are less-than-ideal, I have found my missing fortitude. Yes, there is light at the end of this tunnel, the sun does smile behind the dark clouds.
I have my Savior to thank for this, my Intercessor, the Source of my strength, the Source of my breath....
Thursday, May 20, 2010
A Respite
A day off the rat race. The rain on my roof is slowly ebbing to a stop. Some rap music plays on my stereo. I have Facebook, Strawberry and Fishpond on simultaneous windows - a typical day off spent. The mess around me occupies a tiny part of my mind. The good thing is I don't feel like lying down and sleeping. Life is too short to be spent sleeping. Another good thing is I remember being conscious about my dreams last night. I mean I remember a lot of them - like telling Peter Devantier about my grandfather. Peter is back as butler from Guest Relations Manager. An ironic twist of fate but I think he prefers that to the politics up there. I remember seeing Melaine as well in my dream - my mom's once-empty garden with a gaping hole on one side, suddenly had a whole body of water moving from the other side and filling it up. A bit weird, don't know how that happened. Remember living in a house that is half my house back home and half my Auckland abode. Remembering my dreams is a good sign.
I don't really know what a blog's purpose is, I am thinking it's my kind of journal, written in uniform fonts instead of my usual curly and curvy handwriting. And of course, it's for people to see. I would have preferred my journal to be somewhere private but with my vagabonding lifestyle, it's always difficult to keep them somewhere safe. Keeping them in my hard drive or in a flash drive is not too safe either. Putting them online is the safest place and the most accessible at the same time but it's too public, prevents me from saying all my thoughts.
Today is a good day. Simply because I feel good about life. I was not too lazy to cook for my kids despite the pouring rain outside and the low temperature. I can always find my excuses but I never should. Getting my locks chopped was a good start to taking control of my life, though.
Today is a good day. God loves me. That's all that matters.
I don't really know what a blog's purpose is, I am thinking it's my kind of journal, written in uniform fonts instead of my usual curly and curvy handwriting. And of course, it's for people to see. I would have preferred my journal to be somewhere private but with my vagabonding lifestyle, it's always difficult to keep them somewhere safe. Keeping them in my hard drive or in a flash drive is not too safe either. Putting them online is the safest place and the most accessible at the same time but it's too public, prevents me from saying all my thoughts.
Today is a good day. Simply because I feel good about life. I was not too lazy to cook for my kids despite the pouring rain outside and the low temperature. I can always find my excuses but I never should. Getting my locks chopped was a good start to taking control of my life, though.
Today is a good day. God loves me. That's all that matters.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Music
As the lyrics to Carpe Diem by Aldebert rush forth, the speed of my hands on the folding and dishwashing also accelerates. Even when the Disc jumped on to I’ll Make Love To You. Yes, music has always been inspirational. It has taken me to all sorts of moods and all highs and lows. It could provoke a torrent of sobs or a laughing hysteria. It takes me to romantic interludes and high school parties, even the forgotten face of a lover. I believe this can take me back to myself, that part of me which has been lost. It seems I jumped on to a stage which I am not ready for, simply because I skipped something in between. Looking closer, it’s missing the part where I backpack before I get married and have children. I had children first, got married and did not exactly backpack. I started backpacking to Ifugao, though, and got interrupted. I have to continue that before I go back to having children and then getting married. Only then can I feel that I have followed the cycle of life. This I need to resolve, otherwise I will never lose that feeling of missing something. Who knows what else I will find along the way – my missing mission, my missing self….
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Holy Thursday
April the 1st. I have a paunch, confused thoughts, disappointment with self. All these reflected in an unsmiling face, indecision, blabbering, back-stabbing. Rather an ugly picture. It is only a stage but what a dreadful stage to be in. Stuck with cyber-stuff : Facebook, Yahoo, Gmail, Flickr, etc. No human contact, reminiscing old friends but there are really no friends here. The only saving grace is the kids. They are growing and breatheing, and they are my raison d'etre. I should never forget that.
I go to Post-Grad school in a few months, part of the steps in my search for my Personal Legend. I thought this could lead to teaching, a balanced life and giving back what I have received. It's not always written in stone, right? It could change, right? I could make my own choices without fear and worry that I've made a grave mistake, right? I know I swore I won't teach like Ma and Da but looking back, it is a noble profession. Although it could be a sad fate, that is, teaching Hospitality. But on further introspection, I do love doing it. I probably love it better than if I had ended up looking into oral cavities for life. I will never know, though. But does that mean I am giving anything back, though, or doing anything meaningful? Will I be really?
If I am paying for it, I might as well do it well. But keep that hotel job for the sake of the benefits. Not much of a work of Art but a very honest one.
I go to Post-Grad school in a few months, part of the steps in my search for my Personal Legend. I thought this could lead to teaching, a balanced life and giving back what I have received. It's not always written in stone, right? It could change, right? I could make my own choices without fear and worry that I've made a grave mistake, right? I know I swore I won't teach like Ma and Da but looking back, it is a noble profession. Although it could be a sad fate, that is, teaching Hospitality. But on further introspection, I do love doing it. I probably love it better than if I had ended up looking into oral cavities for life. I will never know, though. But does that mean I am giving anything back, though, or doing anything meaningful? Will I be really?
If I am paying for it, I might as well do it well. But keep that hotel job for the sake of the benefits. Not much of a work of Art but a very honest one.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
19th Feb, Mission Bay, 18h13
A beautiful yet windy day.....
Lying out in the sun, the very short, peaceful moments were interrupted by annoying gusts of wind sending tiny bits of sand onto my teeth, my sarong and into my eyes. Josh enjoys a whirl around the playground while Mikkael opts to stay at home with Mac and Runescape. I try to finish my book, The Element by Ken Robinson, while getting a suntan until I finally give up, pack my things and move over to the shell-filled part of the beach. Anything to avoid the irritating sand. The wind is too cold and does not help my suntanning objective.
I take photos of the landscape and beach-goers on my Nikon Coolpix hoping for anything that can be remotely-labelled as a work of art. To my usual disappointment, I cannot find anything even half as good. But I have always been a tough critic to myself. I have always thought I should pit myself against the masters and the geniuses. But I have never really studied them thinking I have some kind of talent hidden somewhere which will just manifest itself suddenly or slowly.
I have also realized I have always liked to record things - take a photo or write an essay - without basking in the moment. I have always not trusted that my own senses and my own memories of a beautiful sunrise, for example, would ever do justice to the actual spectacle or event. Hence, the need of an electronic aid or otherwise - the camera, the Macbook or the reliable pen.
Again, this is still a part of my search for my mission. Maybe be a historian or a journalist? Maybe Carlota was right? But wouldn't my being opinionated get in the way of my objectivity? Would I be happy telling people of an event? How much time would it take before I'd get bored?
Would my life be summed up by the photos I took and posted on Facebook? Where is the meaning there, the purpose?
Who cares about my thoughts and interpretations of people and events? Who cares about the stories I concoct in my crazy head?
Lying out in the sun, the very short, peaceful moments were interrupted by annoying gusts of wind sending tiny bits of sand onto my teeth, my sarong and into my eyes. Josh enjoys a whirl around the playground while Mikkael opts to stay at home with Mac and Runescape. I try to finish my book, The Element by Ken Robinson, while getting a suntan until I finally give up, pack my things and move over to the shell-filled part of the beach. Anything to avoid the irritating sand. The wind is too cold and does not help my suntanning objective.
I take photos of the landscape and beach-goers on my Nikon Coolpix hoping for anything that can be remotely-labelled as a work of art. To my usual disappointment, I cannot find anything even half as good. But I have always been a tough critic to myself. I have always thought I should pit myself against the masters and the geniuses. But I have never really studied them thinking I have some kind of talent hidden somewhere which will just manifest itself suddenly or slowly.
I have also realized I have always liked to record things - take a photo or write an essay - without basking in the moment. I have always not trusted that my own senses and my own memories of a beautiful sunrise, for example, would ever do justice to the actual spectacle or event. Hence, the need of an electronic aid or otherwise - the camera, the Macbook or the reliable pen.
Again, this is still a part of my search for my mission. Maybe be a historian or a journalist? Maybe Carlota was right? But wouldn't my being opinionated get in the way of my objectivity? Would I be happy telling people of an event? How much time would it take before I'd get bored?
Would my life be summed up by the photos I took and posted on Facebook? Where is the meaning there, the purpose?
Who cares about my thoughts and interpretations of people and events? Who cares about the stories I concoct in my crazy head?
Thursday, January 21, 2010
The Green Mile
Watched part of the movie and was deeply touched. The irony, an ad for a washing machine detergent passed through, and I am reminded of how I used to wash my clothes in the shared machine back in Baan Dusit. Those were a few of my early memories of Dubai. And those were my more treasured memories - taking the staff bus to Karama, to Sunday masses, to work and back. More memorable than when I drove my own car. Simply because those were my humble beginnings. And I'd like to think this is the lesson I am being taught. To remember those humble beginnings.
I went to university in the big city, dependent on my poor parents' salaries as teachers. I had two brothers due to go to university soon themselves. To live decently, I had to go to this ladies' dormitory where the well-off kids went to. I'm not sure how my dad survived that. Then I flunked the pre-dent dexterity test, and further flunked the interview. Just a few of the things I flunked in life. You win some, you lose some. That should have kept me grounded, plus the 4's I had - Math 11, Biochem, Zoo 10 (or was it 11?). My Physics wasn't so bad, though. And I got a 1.75 when I took up Math 11 again. Really a big embarrassment since I got a 99% in my College Entrance Test and passed a quota course.
That should have been more than enough to keep me humble. But my memory is really very short.
I went to university in the big city, dependent on my poor parents' salaries as teachers. I had two brothers due to go to university soon themselves. To live decently, I had to go to this ladies' dormitory where the well-off kids went to. I'm not sure how my dad survived that. Then I flunked the pre-dent dexterity test, and further flunked the interview. Just a few of the things I flunked in life. You win some, you lose some. That should have kept me grounded, plus the 4's I had - Math 11, Biochem, Zoo 10 (or was it 11?). My Physics wasn't so bad, though. And I got a 1.75 when I took up Math 11 again. Really a big embarrassment since I got a 99% in my College Entrance Test and passed a quota course.
That should have been more than enough to keep me humble. But my memory is really very short.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
I am Wind
I am exciting, moody, powerful, invisible but felt, changeable, strong, unpredictable, a catalyst for fire and for change, mysterious, eerie, frightening, graceful; I am the air you breathe. I make leaves dance, I destroy, I soothe, I calm, I bring on rain, I sway, I whip, I cool / neutralize heat, I go through cracks, I carry beautiful scents and aromas, I stir, I cause tornadoes, I ignite fire, I kindle fire, I kill weak fire, I carry sound; too much of me kills and hurts the lungs; I let birds fly, I let kites and airplanes fly.
I am Wind.
For the next thirty days, this is my mantra. My changeable and unpredictable nature resembles the wind most of the time. I do not make plans. I do things at the drop of a hat. I change course when I like. I do things according to my moods. That makes me unstable, too. But then again, I am powerful, strong enough to control that instability. That is really up to me. I have so much power and potential in me that I am capable of building or destroying. It is really up to me to choose.
I am Wind.
I can shape the destiny of things. I can influence the weather, the direction the leaves sway or the dancing of the mighty trees. I influence the movement of the waters, the direction of sailboats, the ease or difficulty with which the pilot steers his aircraft, whether a small child hurts his hands from keeping control of his powerful kite or for that same child to enjoy its gentle gliding. I even help in reproduction, when I blow seeds into the direction of good soil. If I blow too much, I could break a beautiful butterfly's wings or the frail limbs of a baby bird.
I am Wind.
I could be gentle like a lover caressing his beloved's cheek or be ruthless like a raging storm. My power lies in my ability to control that rage. I look to my Master for orders. I look to Him for help. Though I know I am wind, I do not know what is expected of me. Should I be the bearer of beautiful sound or should I be the bringer of rain? Should I put out tiny sparks or do I ignite huge fires? Should I help steer sailboats or should I discourage adventures? Do I help build sand castles or do I destroy mighty fortresses?
I am Wind. I do as the Great One bids.
I am Wind.
For the next thirty days, this is my mantra. My changeable and unpredictable nature resembles the wind most of the time. I do not make plans. I do things at the drop of a hat. I change course when I like. I do things according to my moods. That makes me unstable, too. But then again, I am powerful, strong enough to control that instability. That is really up to me. I have so much power and potential in me that I am capable of building or destroying. It is really up to me to choose.
I am Wind.
I can shape the destiny of things. I can influence the weather, the direction the leaves sway or the dancing of the mighty trees. I influence the movement of the waters, the direction of sailboats, the ease or difficulty with which the pilot steers his aircraft, whether a small child hurts his hands from keeping control of his powerful kite or for that same child to enjoy its gentle gliding. I even help in reproduction, when I blow seeds into the direction of good soil. If I blow too much, I could break a beautiful butterfly's wings or the frail limbs of a baby bird.
I am Wind.
I could be gentle like a lover caressing his beloved's cheek or be ruthless like a raging storm. My power lies in my ability to control that rage. I look to my Master for orders. I look to Him for help. Though I know I am wind, I do not know what is expected of me. Should I be the bearer of beautiful sound or should I be the bringer of rain? Should I put out tiny sparks or do I ignite huge fires? Should I help steer sailboats or should I discourage adventures? Do I help build sand castles or do I destroy mighty fortresses?
I am Wind. I do as the Great One bids.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Still Day 1
This is how a confused mind thinks. It's past midnight and I just finished my first blog. I am thinking of getting a Big Mac just because I see a friend's name on Facebook who's had a combo earlier. Not really a good way to start the Sunday. Thank heavens, ma voiture est en panne (my car is not working). These blogs will be filled with a mixture of languages I know which could be grammatically correct or which could not be. The kids are at a friend's for a sleepover. What's left for me to do? I could watch that French movie again but I don't think I have the energy to listen to and to understand what the actors are saying. Or I could read that book further but I'm not really in the mood. Which reminds me that I still have a row of books on my shelf that need to be read. They have accumulated for the past few months but my moods have been at extreme highs and lows and a high would merit reading and finishing one.
Which means there have been more lows that I had to resort to re-reading the Twilight saga in so short a time. Another proof of a lot of lows. This pattern seems to occur every few years or so manifested in different ways. It could be in the form of binge eating, binge reading, obsessive behaviors such as photography, looking up Robert Pattinson's biography (a recent one, it was Shahrukh Khan once) and just taking up any course that catches my fancy (Travel Writing being one of the most recent). Again, I figure this is an attempt at finding my life's mission.
I keep thinking having pictures on my wall would help me. Or even an action plan - the same kind you make for work (strategic and short-term). But they are always only good on paper. Implementing them has always been hard. Doing a picture plan didn't do me any good either. I just ended up losing interest because my painting skills left a lot to be desired.
I have always had illusions and delusions of grandeur. I thought my mission would be something like changing the world - hence the attempt at being an online volunteer for the United Nations. I had a rude awakening when I discovered I could not even volunteer for one job because all I knew was how to make a training plan for new Front Office staff and how to meet the boss's expectations (which is a major struggle). Nothing meaningful like creating a suburban city plan nor a school curriculum. I ended up just being a global parent which required nothing but $25.00 a month, a feat any average Jane could do. Again, another proof of my delusional tendencies.
Looks like this will take a lot of work and time....
Which means there have been more lows that I had to resort to re-reading the Twilight saga in so short a time. Another proof of a lot of lows. This pattern seems to occur every few years or so manifested in different ways. It could be in the form of binge eating, binge reading, obsessive behaviors such as photography, looking up Robert Pattinson's biography (a recent one, it was Shahrukh Khan once) and just taking up any course that catches my fancy (Travel Writing being one of the most recent). Again, I figure this is an attempt at finding my life's mission.
I keep thinking having pictures on my wall would help me. Or even an action plan - the same kind you make for work (strategic and short-term). But they are always only good on paper. Implementing them has always been hard. Doing a picture plan didn't do me any good either. I just ended up losing interest because my painting skills left a lot to be desired.
I have always had illusions and delusions of grandeur. I thought my mission would be something like changing the world - hence the attempt at being an online volunteer for the United Nations. I had a rude awakening when I discovered I could not even volunteer for one job because all I knew was how to make a training plan for new Front Office staff and how to meet the boss's expectations (which is a major struggle). Nothing meaningful like creating a suburban city plan nor a school curriculum. I ended up just being a global parent which required nothing but $25.00 a month, a feat any average Jane could do. Again, another proof of my delusional tendencies.
Looks like this will take a lot of work and time....
Day 1
I read this book several years ago, The Path by Laurie Beth Jones. In restrospect, I thought I wasn't ready. Several books and several years later, I read it again and still think I am not ready. I start with the first few chapters and end up falling asleep. My long weeks of long hours at work have taken its toll. I end up more confused than ever. One minute I think I would take up a Bachelor's Degree in Psychology, the next minute I think I should take up Linguistics. And I continue to slog in hours in the luxury hotel where I manage the Club.
I went into a quota course in the country's premier state university with dreams of having an MD after my name. Really, it was my mother's dream. I didn't know what my dream was. I spent about a year and a half in the pre-Dental program and ended up cross-enrolling in the main campus taking up Spanish and Italian. And I finished a Bachelor's in Tourism since then. That's how I became a hotelier.
The hotel business is an exciting and dynamic industry. No two days are ever the same and managing people from all walks of life and from different cultures is quite challenging. This was not the challenge I had in mind, though, when I went into university. But then again, I've lost sight of what I really wanted. Simply because I thought my youth would be there forever and that I will always have time to pursue my dreams. I don't know if I am the only person in this planet with this dilemma.
I know that each human being has a role to play in the universe but I don't know what mine is. I am not even sure I am good at anything. I have a few things I can do here and there but I am never happy with my abilities, I always think I am mediocre. Don't get me wrong, I finished top of my class in high school - hardly mediocre by some people's standards. But going into that tough university filled with the country's creme de la creme, you think you are some deluded loser pretending to belong.
But I never belonged anywhere - not in the small town I called home, not in the big university I earned my degree from nor in the new country I now live in. I probably never will.
But I will continue searching for my place and for my mission......this is just the beginning of actively seeking it.
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