Now playing: Leave out all the rest by Linkin Park
Everything ends in death or loss, because as long as there is still something out there, you know it is not yet the end.
My dog died today. He has been with us since he was a baby. We had to feed him milk, help him on his feet, and train him.
When you want to call him, you do not need to whistle or make ordinary dog sounds. All you have to do is call out his name or the monicker of it: Beebee. We also sometimes call him Peebee from Spielbee.
We were not exactly sure if Spielberg was a pedigreed dog. We did not care. We like the fury ball of energy which came into our life unexpectedly.
He was the first male dog we really warmed up on. Well, we girls in the family always frowned upon male dogs but Spielberg was an irresistible force.
Then, just two days ago, he got sick. He refused to eat and kept vomiting nothing. I took him out for a walk this morning but all he did was lie on the pavement as if he was too tired. I promised to take him out for a walk everyday if he would just get well.
That promise still holds. I am going to walk every morning as a memorial for Beebee.
I wished we brought him earlier to the local vet but we were just too late.
I feel a bit angry, sad, and confused.
When my brother said he has died, apparently in his sleep, I did not feel anything. I have become a total expert in blocking my feelings, but, the overwhelming pain eventually caught up with me and I felt my heart breaking literally.
I could not breathe. It was as if a big stone has lodged somewhere in my heart.
Beebee always slept on my bed every morning. And he is such a noisy bedmate because he keeps barking all night.
He pretended to be such a brave pug and would act as if he would attack anyone close only to back off when you leave him facing the “enemy”.
He was the thing I hugged when I felt sad. I really would miss feeling his awkward licks. He never really learned how to lick a hand properly, you know.
I am going to miss him.
I asked God to give us this pet. Beg and bargained with Him to allow us to keep him. My prayers fell on deaf ears.
Was it not important?
It made me evaluate a lot of things in my life lately.
Do animals have souls (watch Brother Bear 1 and 2)? When they die, where do their souls go (I am currently playing Even in Death by Evanescence, I thought I heard him bark)?
Does God have any special place for them?
I don’t know. I feel as if something inside me has changed with the death of this pet. I was the one who named him Spielberg. We were so totally into Dreamworks movies, that’s why.
I am going to miss you, Spielberg.
When he was a pup, Spielberg walked all over my laptop and was able to leave this mess on my files. I copied it and kept it. I intend to delete it so I made a back up here.
It was created on Friday, December 26, 2008 at 10:19:26 AM
Xdffffdd6y7y777777777uijjjjjjj888888888888dddddddddwwwwwl,kvgbbbbbbkjpikokl.oogfhffheee8i97’;[;90fffgvjmnh4e3wrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmwwwwwwjnmkkkkkhsdxxxxxxjikmedrrrrrrrrrrrrriimwwwwwwwwwwkwk22ikkikkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
I would rather think that Peebee has now joined the spirits and is at peace. It would be awfully painfully to even remotely consider that after this life, that valiant spirit, that spirit which made him wag his tail when he was very much closer to death’ door, would just disappear like that.
My sister is still crying outside and I cannot console her.
Now playing: My Last Breath by Evanescence
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Job Hunter’s Ordeal
For three years, I have written three application letters to the same institution where I applied as a secondary school teacher. I guess, in these letters I have written, you will see the changes that happened to me.
Here is the second letter I wrote:
April 28, 2008
For a long time, I have nurtured the ream of serving my alma mater and sharing to my fellow %^&*#hons the treasure-chest of knowledge I have diligently collected over the years.
The very reason that I took a bachelor’s degree in education lies in the heart of the school where I graduated from. I had great teachers and a great training and I wish for the next generation of %^&*#hons to experience the same excellent education I had. Failing to serve where my love for education blossomed is almost synonymous to not heeding my mission and my calling.
I am (etcetera) and I graduated with a (whatever) from (wherever) last March 2006. I was awarded a Proficiency in English Award (Secondary) and Outstanding Student Teacher in English Award (Secondary) by the same institution.
In the same year, I took and passed the Licensure Examination for Teachers with a rating of 85.60%.
I have come to apply as a (whatever). I am very willing to come for an interview at any time you find convenient. I can be reached at this number: etc.
Thank you very much.
I was almost desperate at that point. In that letter, I was almost begging the school to take me in since I was so damn willing and eager to do anything for that dream. A dream which was nipped in its bud before it has even had time to flourish.
April 13, 2009
I would like apply for a post of Communication Arts Teacher (English) in your school.
I earned the degree Bachelor of Secondary Education (English) from (where I graduated)last March 2006. I graduated with a General Weighted Average of 1.49.
I took and passed the Philippine Licensure Examination for Teachers (PLET) on the same year with a General Average Rating of 85.60%.
I have served as a Secondary School Teacher in English I, this year, under the (blank,blank,blank)Local School Board.
Enclosed herewith is my resume which outlines my education, references and other pertinent information.
I know I have what it takes to help the school achieve its aims and ideals. I am also very much willing to learn and work hard if I am granted the opportunity to work in this school.
May God bless you.
To those who know me well, the letter sounds (or reads) so unlike me. It sounds bold, and brash and really confident. It also is direct to the point and seems very, very sure of himself (or herself).
Well, after three application letters sent to the same school (which happens to be my beloved Alma Mater), I guess you do get tired of trying to impress them with all your flowery words and credentials and your desire to truly serve it with all your heart and soul.
I have grown weary of waiting and the school has mad me feel very little, very tiny, very small and very insignificant.
Nanay and I also had a really weird argument over my lack of interest to prepare my application letter. She told me to have my certificates photocopied but I was not interested anymore and I don’t really know why.
I guess the two year experience has disappointed and disillusioned me. It will really take a miracle to bring back the faith I lost in the power and vision of teaching.
Here is the second letter I wrote:
April 28, 2008
For a long time, I have nurtured the ream of serving my alma mater and sharing to my fellow %^&*#hons the treasure-chest of knowledge I have diligently collected over the years.
The very reason that I took a bachelor’s degree in education lies in the heart of the school where I graduated from. I had great teachers and a great training and I wish for the next generation of %^&*#hons to experience the same excellent education I had. Failing to serve where my love for education blossomed is almost synonymous to not heeding my mission and my calling.
I am (etcetera) and I graduated with a (whatever) from (wherever) last March 2006. I was awarded a Proficiency in English Award (Secondary) and Outstanding Student Teacher in English Award (Secondary) by the same institution.
In the same year, I took and passed the Licensure Examination for Teachers with a rating of 85.60%.
I have come to apply as a (whatever). I am very willing to come for an interview at any time you find convenient. I can be reached at this number: etc.
Thank you very much.
I was almost desperate at that point. In that letter, I was almost begging the school to take me in since I was so damn willing and eager to do anything for that dream. A dream which was nipped in its bud before it has even had time to flourish.
April 13, 2009
I would like apply for a post of Communication Arts Teacher (English) in your school.
I earned the degree Bachelor of Secondary Education (English) from (where I graduated)last March 2006. I graduated with a General Weighted Average of 1.49.
I took and passed the Philippine Licensure Examination for Teachers (PLET) on the same year with a General Average Rating of 85.60%.
I have served as a Secondary School Teacher in English I, this year, under the (blank,blank,blank)Local School Board.
Enclosed herewith is my resume which outlines my education, references and other pertinent information.
I know I have what it takes to help the school achieve its aims and ideals. I am also very much willing to learn and work hard if I am granted the opportunity to work in this school.
May God bless you.
To those who know me well, the letter sounds (or reads) so unlike me. It sounds bold, and brash and really confident. It also is direct to the point and seems very, very sure of himself (or herself).
Well, after three application letters sent to the same school (which happens to be my beloved Alma Mater), I guess you do get tired of trying to impress them with all your flowery words and credentials and your desire to truly serve it with all your heart and soul.
I have grown weary of waiting and the school has mad me feel very little, very tiny, very small and very insignificant.
Nanay and I also had a really weird argument over my lack of interest to prepare my application letter. She told me to have my certificates photocopied but I was not interested anymore and I don’t really know why.
I guess the two year experience has disappointed and disillusioned me. It will really take a miracle to bring back the faith I lost in the power and vision of teaching.
In The Mood
Mode: pedantic and contemplative
Music: Out of My League by Stephen Speaks
Solitude is a pretty nice concept. It gives one peace and a sense of imaginative freedom and disattachment to the real world.
I love solitude because I have never totally enjoyed it. I have savored that kind of sublime peace once in a while, in short burst of unexpected solitariness.
Solitude is not just about being alone, you know. You maybe secluded once in a while but you might never feel that content sense of aloneness.
I love solitude and for years, that has been the goal of my existence.
I feel a peaceful sense of solitude whenever I wake up in the middle of the night and I find everyone at home sleeping.
I love that time between 11 pm and 1 am. Genius and imagination seems to favor those hours for me. They clandestinely meet in my head and bring reason to all the disjointed and rumbled thoughts of the day.
During this point in eternity, I find the peace I long to have. It is during this time that I feel I could do just about anything.
I have also experienced that thrilling sense of solitude when I am riding a bus from my hometown to Iloilo City. It is especially most potent when I have the whole seat to myself and I have the chance to enjoy the sunrise or the sunset.
That is another thing that I look forward to now that I am about to take my Masters Degree at my previous college. I have a 7:30 class in the morning so that means I have to board the bus at about 5:00 in the morning. I would get to see the sunrise somewhere in Pototan or Zaraga and that would be totally awesome.
Then, my last period class would be at 1:30. I would spend the rest of the afternoon at the library (for my next burst of solitary ecstasy) until 5:00 Pm. Then, I would ride the bus again and watch the sunset, alone…hopefully.
Why do I like solitude so much?
I feel at peace during such times. I feel as if I can do anything I have set out to do. I feel free and I feel really happy.
I can work for hours on my own. I can take tests for as long as the whole day (as long as it is not about Math). I can listen to a lecture for a whole day. I can do research for as long as possible. But, I can never last more than an hour of mediocre chitchat with an acquaintance.
In fact, talking about nonsensical matter exhausts me more than manual labor.
I have experienced that a lot of times. After a lengthy conversation with an acquaintance, I usually find myself out of breath. That is why I try to avoid acquaintances as much as I could, especially if we have not met for years and we have nothing quite significant to say to each other (and Adel, you are definitely not just an acquaintance, so smile. I love talking to you and you know that).
Another precious solitary existence is the time I spend in the library. No one can really understand my preoccupation with books. I guess to girls out there, it’s just about the same as your preoccupation with the next moda or those scents and make ups and shoes and sandals and dresses that girls my age usually buy. To guys, I can compare it with their preoccupation with the latest gadgetry, cars and other boytoys.
And then, the height of solitary nirvana, are those hours spent inside our Parish’s adoration chapel. It was only during these times that I let go of my inhibitions and sing those songs I learned from the choir. (Oh, I do that when no one is around).
Yes, solitude is fine. I do miss it.
Music: Out of My League by Stephen Speaks
Solitude is a pretty nice concept. It gives one peace and a sense of imaginative freedom and disattachment to the real world.
I love solitude because I have never totally enjoyed it. I have savored that kind of sublime peace once in a while, in short burst of unexpected solitariness.
Solitude is not just about being alone, you know. You maybe secluded once in a while but you might never feel that content sense of aloneness.
I love solitude and for years, that has been the goal of my existence.
I feel a peaceful sense of solitude whenever I wake up in the middle of the night and I find everyone at home sleeping.
I love that time between 11 pm and 1 am. Genius and imagination seems to favor those hours for me. They clandestinely meet in my head and bring reason to all the disjointed and rumbled thoughts of the day.
During this point in eternity, I find the peace I long to have. It is during this time that I feel I could do just about anything.
I have also experienced that thrilling sense of solitude when I am riding a bus from my hometown to Iloilo City. It is especially most potent when I have the whole seat to myself and I have the chance to enjoy the sunrise or the sunset.
That is another thing that I look forward to now that I am about to take my Masters Degree at my previous college. I have a 7:30 class in the morning so that means I have to board the bus at about 5:00 in the morning. I would get to see the sunrise somewhere in Pototan or Zaraga and that would be totally awesome.
Then, my last period class would be at 1:30. I would spend the rest of the afternoon at the library (for my next burst of solitary ecstasy) until 5:00 Pm. Then, I would ride the bus again and watch the sunset, alone…hopefully.
Why do I like solitude so much?
I feel at peace during such times. I feel as if I can do anything I have set out to do. I feel free and I feel really happy.
I can work for hours on my own. I can take tests for as long as the whole day (as long as it is not about Math). I can listen to a lecture for a whole day. I can do research for as long as possible. But, I can never last more than an hour of mediocre chitchat with an acquaintance.
In fact, talking about nonsensical matter exhausts me more than manual labor.
I have experienced that a lot of times. After a lengthy conversation with an acquaintance, I usually find myself out of breath. That is why I try to avoid acquaintances as much as I could, especially if we have not met for years and we have nothing quite significant to say to each other (and Adel, you are definitely not just an acquaintance, so smile. I love talking to you and you know that).
Another precious solitary existence is the time I spend in the library. No one can really understand my preoccupation with books. I guess to girls out there, it’s just about the same as your preoccupation with the next moda or those scents and make ups and shoes and sandals and dresses that girls my age usually buy. To guys, I can compare it with their preoccupation with the latest gadgetry, cars and other boytoys.
And then, the height of solitary nirvana, are those hours spent inside our Parish’s adoration chapel. It was only during these times that I let go of my inhibitions and sing those songs I learned from the choir. (Oh, I do that when no one is around).
Yes, solitude is fine. I do miss it.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Heavenessence : What’s left of me…once you take everything else.
An old college friend once told me that I have a tendency of giving my justification and rationale in the middle of a lecture. Sort of writing the significance of the study in the chapter for the review of related literature, when it comes to research.
Well, I guess, she is right.
And I think the reason for that is because I usually realize the significance of my actions only while I am doing those actions.
The problem with someone like me is I tend to overanalyze things. I would get thoroughly distracted by a matter or a decision I have to make and I would try to churn it up in my brain. When I could find no objections or I have successfully blocked all objections, only then would I start acting.
The reason, the enlightenment, comes while I am working on it or after I worked on it. As a college professor once said to me, there are persons who have foresights, insights or aftersights.
I guess I am in the last category if it so exist. If not, I may be offbeat.
For years, I have been searching for meaning. I wanted to know the whys, hows, whens and wheres of the whos and whats. I unconsciously went in search of knowledge and wisdom and after years of searching, I haven’t come any closer to the answer.
In fact, until now, I do not know what I am looking for. Everything else is still a blur of wh and h questions.
Who am I? Why am I here? What am I doing? Where am I going? Where was I from?
Questions I could not answer until now.
There are a lot of answers depending on the philosophy you subscribe in or the religion you aspire to or the faith you believe in.
But, what if there are no philosophies, no schools of thought, no religion. What becomes of us? What becomes of me?
A heaping mass of unidentified confounded creature.
What a sorry existence.
If you take away everything else, what becomes of us? What becomes of man?
But then, is there really anything else aside from what?
Questions.
I need my coffee, I think. Sugar-saturated.
Well, I guess, she is right.
And I think the reason for that is because I usually realize the significance of my actions only while I am doing those actions.
The problem with someone like me is I tend to overanalyze things. I would get thoroughly distracted by a matter or a decision I have to make and I would try to churn it up in my brain. When I could find no objections or I have successfully blocked all objections, only then would I start acting.
The reason, the enlightenment, comes while I am working on it or after I worked on it. As a college professor once said to me, there are persons who have foresights, insights or aftersights.
I guess I am in the last category if it so exist. If not, I may be offbeat.
For years, I have been searching for meaning. I wanted to know the whys, hows, whens and wheres of the whos and whats. I unconsciously went in search of knowledge and wisdom and after years of searching, I haven’t come any closer to the answer.
In fact, until now, I do not know what I am looking for. Everything else is still a blur of wh and h questions.
Who am I? Why am I here? What am I doing? Where am I going? Where was I from?
Questions I could not answer until now.
There are a lot of answers depending on the philosophy you subscribe in or the religion you aspire to or the faith you believe in.
But, what if there are no philosophies, no schools of thought, no religion. What becomes of us? What becomes of me?
A heaping mass of unidentified confounded creature.
What a sorry existence.
If you take away everything else, what becomes of us? What becomes of man?
But then, is there really anything else aside from what?
Questions.
I need my coffee, I think. Sugar-saturated.
What Heaven Wants
What Heaven wants, Heaven do not usually get.
Fact of life number one to a girl who grew up in a weird set up. Anyway, I am kinda weird myself so what the heck.
I have wanted a lot of things in life but I often do not get it. Not often, but I sometimes get some, you know. But not as often as I want to.
Maybe, I just did not know what I want or I do not know myself enough to really determine what I want.
Well, not all of us can get what we want but we often get what we need and that is what counts the most right?
Anyway, this post is mostly written to help me find out what I really wanted out of life.
Wants List
I want independence.
I want my own living space.
I want to be alone.
I want to be free of financial and material worries.
I want to be free of obligations and responsibilities.
I want to see new places, new things, new experiences but I want it all to be part of a significant journey.
I want to finish a book.
I want to escape the rut I am in right now.
I want to go abroad, somewhere, wet and rainy with a magical unheated sun.
I want unlimited access to the internet.
I want to become a writer.
I want to meet a fairy, a vampire and an alien life form, an angel…whatever there is.
I want to be with a sensible, fascinating person who can share all those wants with me. I do not really want the rest of the world, just him, and me, and books and music and sweet moments…
I want to be happy.
I guess the really sure thing is the last one, I want to be happy. I just do not know how.
And as you have seen, teaching has no part in it. I have become very honest with myself now. Teaching is no longer the passion that it used to be. I like giving lectures, I enjoy searching knowledge and I like sharing them with kids. What turned me off was the system.
It is not the same. And over the years, I have realized that I have lived in a pink bubble that puffed up when I first stepped on the school that burned to the ground all the rosy images of education I have in my mind.
Now, I want to be my own boss. I do not want to sell my time to people who do not value it as much as I do.
But, I cannot give up the contact with the kids. The babies who would eventually grow up and forget about me. Who cares? I have the memories.
I may hate the system but I love the students who pass by my classroom. Every student I talk to always carry a part of myself with him or her, once he or she lives the room.
I would always loves this part of the teaching process. I just wish there is some system out there which is more relevant, more significant, and more hands-on than what we have right now.
Fact of life number one to a girl who grew up in a weird set up. Anyway, I am kinda weird myself so what the heck.
I have wanted a lot of things in life but I often do not get it. Not often, but I sometimes get some, you know. But not as often as I want to.
Maybe, I just did not know what I want or I do not know myself enough to really determine what I want.
Well, not all of us can get what we want but we often get what we need and that is what counts the most right?
Anyway, this post is mostly written to help me find out what I really wanted out of life.
Wants List
I want independence.
I want my own living space.
I want to be alone.
I want to be free of financial and material worries.
I want to be free of obligations and responsibilities.
I want to see new places, new things, new experiences but I want it all to be part of a significant journey.
I want to finish a book.
I want to escape the rut I am in right now.
I want to go abroad, somewhere, wet and rainy with a magical unheated sun.
I want unlimited access to the internet.
I want to become a writer.
I want to meet a fairy, a vampire and an alien life form, an angel…whatever there is.
I want to be with a sensible, fascinating person who can share all those wants with me. I do not really want the rest of the world, just him, and me, and books and music and sweet moments…
I want to be happy.
I guess the really sure thing is the last one, I want to be happy. I just do not know how.
And as you have seen, teaching has no part in it. I have become very honest with myself now. Teaching is no longer the passion that it used to be. I like giving lectures, I enjoy searching knowledge and I like sharing them with kids. What turned me off was the system.
It is not the same. And over the years, I have realized that I have lived in a pink bubble that puffed up when I first stepped on the school that burned to the ground all the rosy images of education I have in my mind.
Now, I want to be my own boss. I do not want to sell my time to people who do not value it as much as I do.
But, I cannot give up the contact with the kids. The babies who would eventually grow up and forget about me. Who cares? I have the memories.
I may hate the system but I love the students who pass by my classroom. Every student I talk to always carry a part of myself with him or her, once he or she lives the room.
I would always loves this part of the teaching process. I just wish there is some system out there which is more relevant, more significant, and more hands-on than what we have right now.
A Secret Side
I am an immature reader.
I guess that is one confession I am a bit embarrassed to admit since I am a literature student and my college professors used to frown about the kind of pulp fiction I am addicted to.
For the literary purist, I am the stereotype of one who preferred lower class reading materials over the realities of life.
I guess pain and reality and unhappy endings sell well to lit critics but I have never really fancied littering my reading relaxation with such pieces although I do study them for analytical purposes. I just can’t bear drowning in on them when I am supposed to have some bit of R&R.
Well let me share my reading list with you,
My Elementary days used to find me reading Sidney Sheldon stuff back to back. I started out with If Tomorrow Never Comes then I went off to Bloodlines and something about diamonds and mines that I cannot remember anymore. There was the Sands of Time and something about mirrors. It is no longer as clear and I no longer enjoy Sheldon as much as I did in the past. Sheldon books remind me strongly of old closets and antiquities, I just don’t know why.
Then, I turned to Tagalog pocketbooks, the really highly inexpensive ones. They were not as sophisticated as the ones we have now where you get to pick a series which suits your tastes. There was Helen Meriz, Maia Jose and several other Cinderella stories where the rich guy marries the poor girl and they lived happily ever after.
When I was in first year highschool, I went nonfic reading biographies and autobios of people. There was a Marie Antoinette book, a George VI one, A Catherine of Aragon story and the one about Princess Diana written by Andrew Morton. That was the reason why I got such low grades when I was in the first year. The tagalog romance novels I have been reading also ate most of my rest time as well and I barely have time to do anything else.
Then, when I was in second year, I gave up reading pocketbooks for a while and focused on my studies to catch up with what highschool students of my age are supposed to learn. I read the textbooks cover to cover and I did all my notes and studied my lessons. Emerging as top of the class by the end of the school year could not compensate with the boredom, damn it. I missed my books.
By the third year, a rent-a- bookstore has opened up in our small sleepy town where no one has thought of ever selling books because they do not sell well. I was so grateful to see a lot English pocketbooks for rent at 8 to 15 pesos for two days. I went book-berserk and found out that I actually loved reading medieval romances and historical lovestories (the pulp types, not the classics). I was into harlequin, zebra and mills and boon. I would miss recess for days and I would walk to from school to home just so I could rent my books. Since my mother disapproved of my habits, I often sit in front of a brook on the way home for hours on end and would go home when it was already inexcusable for me to stay on.
In college, I was into a lot of textbooks and treatises and serious literary works but I never gave up my passion for pulp romance. I could not. It has seeped into my blood. Along with Macbeth, I read Jayne Ann Krentz and Julie Garwood and a lot of other nonsense. Along with the poetry of the great, I read Anne Rice, tried Stephen King (and hated him) and went off with J.K. Rolling and Tolkien and Vanessa and Rose Tan and Arielle and Sofia, and Edith Montelibano (shocking Edith)….
I was a mad, indiscriminate reader. I read Coelho (introduced by Mae Sheilou and Adel), Dan Brown (courtesy of Adel), Bob Ong (what madness Adel), and a whole lot of crap I had not fully digested. I was also into Michael Chrichton, John Grisham, Jeffrey Archer etc.
But, I have always detested horror stories and ghost stories. I abhorred them which to most of my friends were quite abnormal of me. I also did not went through the whole Nancy Drew and Hardy Boy’s series phase.
And, I had not thought I was into intrigues, conspiracies and detective type of novels until I come across a romance line in one major publisher.
But this summer, I am so into it now. I absolutely loved detectives and agents and CIA’s and psychic heroines and odd out of this day sensation plus terrorist battles and the like. Coupled with romance, they just seem so palatable.
I guess that is one confession I am a bit embarrassed to admit since I am a literature student and my college professors used to frown about the kind of pulp fiction I am addicted to.
For the literary purist, I am the stereotype of one who preferred lower class reading materials over the realities of life.
I guess pain and reality and unhappy endings sell well to lit critics but I have never really fancied littering my reading relaxation with such pieces although I do study them for analytical purposes. I just can’t bear drowning in on them when I am supposed to have some bit of R&R.
Well let me share my reading list with you,
My Elementary days used to find me reading Sidney Sheldon stuff back to back. I started out with If Tomorrow Never Comes then I went off to Bloodlines and something about diamonds and mines that I cannot remember anymore. There was the Sands of Time and something about mirrors. It is no longer as clear and I no longer enjoy Sheldon as much as I did in the past. Sheldon books remind me strongly of old closets and antiquities, I just don’t know why.
Then, I turned to Tagalog pocketbooks, the really highly inexpensive ones. They were not as sophisticated as the ones we have now where you get to pick a series which suits your tastes. There was Helen Meriz, Maia Jose and several other Cinderella stories where the rich guy marries the poor girl and they lived happily ever after.
When I was in first year highschool, I went nonfic reading biographies and autobios of people. There was a Marie Antoinette book, a George VI one, A Catherine of Aragon story and the one about Princess Diana written by Andrew Morton. That was the reason why I got such low grades when I was in the first year. The tagalog romance novels I have been reading also ate most of my rest time as well and I barely have time to do anything else.
Then, when I was in second year, I gave up reading pocketbooks for a while and focused on my studies to catch up with what highschool students of my age are supposed to learn. I read the textbooks cover to cover and I did all my notes and studied my lessons. Emerging as top of the class by the end of the school year could not compensate with the boredom, damn it. I missed my books.
By the third year, a rent-a- bookstore has opened up in our small sleepy town where no one has thought of ever selling books because they do not sell well. I was so grateful to see a lot English pocketbooks for rent at 8 to 15 pesos for two days. I went book-berserk and found out that I actually loved reading medieval romances and historical lovestories (the pulp types, not the classics). I was into harlequin, zebra and mills and boon. I would miss recess for days and I would walk to from school to home just so I could rent my books. Since my mother disapproved of my habits, I often sit in front of a brook on the way home for hours on end and would go home when it was already inexcusable for me to stay on.
In college, I was into a lot of textbooks and treatises and serious literary works but I never gave up my passion for pulp romance. I could not. It has seeped into my blood. Along with Macbeth, I read Jayne Ann Krentz and Julie Garwood and a lot of other nonsense. Along with the poetry of the great, I read Anne Rice, tried Stephen King (and hated him) and went off with J.K. Rolling and Tolkien and Vanessa and Rose Tan and Arielle and Sofia, and Edith Montelibano (shocking Edith)….
I was a mad, indiscriminate reader. I read Coelho (introduced by Mae Sheilou and Adel), Dan Brown (courtesy of Adel), Bob Ong (what madness Adel), and a whole lot of crap I had not fully digested. I was also into Michael Chrichton, John Grisham, Jeffrey Archer etc.
But, I have always detested horror stories and ghost stories. I abhorred them which to most of my friends were quite abnormal of me. I also did not went through the whole Nancy Drew and Hardy Boy’s series phase.
And, I had not thought I was into intrigues, conspiracies and detective type of novels until I come across a romance line in one major publisher.
But this summer, I am so into it now. I absolutely loved detectives and agents and CIA’s and psychic heroines and odd out of this day sensation plus terrorist battles and the like. Coupled with romance, they just seem so palatable.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Twilate
I was able to watch twilight only lately and I have heard so much rave about it. I heard some negative comments and I myself even made snide remarks about certain vampire materials that does not fit traditional vampire lores.
When someone tried to compare it with the Harry Potter phenomena, I immediately told off the offender. I mean, Harry Potter is a league by itself and nothing can compare with it. Rowling created a whole new world with it.
Twilight, on the other hand, is a charming young adult novel. I have not yet read the book since I have always missed it. But, I got hold of the plot from one internet source and thought it simplistic until I watched the movie.
I adored the concept. You see, I have been into all this supernatural hooplah when I was in college. I started out with vampirism in fourth year when a classmate lent me The Vampire Armand. That got me hooked with Anne Rice’s vampire chronicles.
The phenomena was even reincouraged in one of our Mythology class when we took up the customs of the worshippers of the God Bacchus or Dionysus. Adel and I started sharing conspiracy theories and oddities about vampirism and how the old religions always seemed to require virgin sacrifices. Then came out the Queen of the Damned movie.
However, all those ponderings were interspersed with the Harry Potter book borrowings and the Dan Brown period where several Silak staffers got hooked on The Da Vinci Code.
I thought I was so over the vampire craze. Until Twilight last year, I guess. I did read a review of the last book from a broadsheet even before the movie was shown. I was intrigued with the Potter comparison and the vampire birth I guess but I decided to put away the info until Twilight caught on the Philippine mad market.
What did I like about Twilight? The fact that it actually exceeded my expectations, I think. I did not expect to like it, you see. I thought it was a stupid, mob-appealing nonsense.
But, it tickled my fantasy. Edward Cullen was definitely a charismatic character. It is just that the role is really beyond any human actor’s grasp. Pattinson managed to come across as possessive and cold and alluringly aloof. But, he does not have the effortlessly sensual intensity that all vampires are supposed to posses.
Bella is a believable enough character, I think. I guess it is plausible to feel an attraction to the dangers that the Cullens actually presented and to have the impossible Edward’s fickle attention is just so, fascinating.
I also liked Forks, Washington. The weather is cool. I liked cold climates and constantly raining places. I don’t know why, really. I have always hated the heat in our country. In fact, I dream of going to a place where I can escaped the tropical mundanity of heat.
Alaska? Nah. Too cold. I just want an impersonal weather that is not too sunny.
Then, there is my imagination. Every little nuance of action between Edward and Bella are just too romantic. It teased my senses silly and I sometimes find myself holding back a squeal, especially that part when Bella turned up in that Bio class and Edward fidgeted. Hehe. I loved that.
The last part where Edward kissed her on the neck instead of turning her into a vampire lacks proper passion. I guess Pattinson could have put something more there.
Basta. I liked Twilight. Whatever you folks say, I liked it. (I can’t believe I liked it! Am I a Twilight fan then?).
When someone tried to compare it with the Harry Potter phenomena, I immediately told off the offender. I mean, Harry Potter is a league by itself and nothing can compare with it. Rowling created a whole new world with it.
Twilight, on the other hand, is a charming young adult novel. I have not yet read the book since I have always missed it. But, I got hold of the plot from one internet source and thought it simplistic until I watched the movie.
I adored the concept. You see, I have been into all this supernatural hooplah when I was in college. I started out with vampirism in fourth year when a classmate lent me The Vampire Armand. That got me hooked with Anne Rice’s vampire chronicles.
The phenomena was even reincouraged in one of our Mythology class when we took up the customs of the worshippers of the God Bacchus or Dionysus. Adel and I started sharing conspiracy theories and oddities about vampirism and how the old religions always seemed to require virgin sacrifices. Then came out the Queen of the Damned movie.
However, all those ponderings were interspersed with the Harry Potter book borrowings and the Dan Brown period where several Silak staffers got hooked on The Da Vinci Code.
I thought I was so over the vampire craze. Until Twilight last year, I guess. I did read a review of the last book from a broadsheet even before the movie was shown. I was intrigued with the Potter comparison and the vampire birth I guess but I decided to put away the info until Twilight caught on the Philippine mad market.
What did I like about Twilight? The fact that it actually exceeded my expectations, I think. I did not expect to like it, you see. I thought it was a stupid, mob-appealing nonsense.
But, it tickled my fantasy. Edward Cullen was definitely a charismatic character. It is just that the role is really beyond any human actor’s grasp. Pattinson managed to come across as possessive and cold and alluringly aloof. But, he does not have the effortlessly sensual intensity that all vampires are supposed to posses.
Bella is a believable enough character, I think. I guess it is plausible to feel an attraction to the dangers that the Cullens actually presented and to have the impossible Edward’s fickle attention is just so, fascinating.
I also liked Forks, Washington. The weather is cool. I liked cold climates and constantly raining places. I don’t know why, really. I have always hated the heat in our country. In fact, I dream of going to a place where I can escaped the tropical mundanity of heat.
Alaska? Nah. Too cold. I just want an impersonal weather that is not too sunny.
Then, there is my imagination. Every little nuance of action between Edward and Bella are just too romantic. It teased my senses silly and I sometimes find myself holding back a squeal, especially that part when Bella turned up in that Bio class and Edward fidgeted. Hehe. I loved that.
The last part where Edward kissed her on the neck instead of turning her into a vampire lacks proper passion. I guess Pattinson could have put something more there.
Basta. I liked Twilight. Whatever you folks say, I liked it. (I can’t believe I liked it! Am I a Twilight fan then?).
The Fascination Facts
I have been fascinated of the Prince William of Wales since I was 11 years old. I don’t blame anyone for that failing. In fact, when I first saw the picture which caught my attention, I did not know that who was featured was actually a living Prince.
I have always been fascinated by nonexistent men when I was young. There was our national hero and then there is the child Jesus (He is God so He does not qualify as “man”).
The Jose Rizal fascination was inspired by a book on Rizal I read before. The fascination with the child Jesus was inspired by a Christmas time movie…and the fascination with Prince William was inspired by a picture of a 14 or 15 year old William smiling toothily and with childlike joy in front of the camera. So, I actually fell fascinated with the boy he was once, not the man he has become.
In fact, I remember feeling a little disappointed with how he turned out to be. I know it is sort of wrong to feel that way since that is pretty stupid but I sort of feel as if he has not actually lived up to the potential that I sensed in the boy.
He lost the happy, childlike look on that charming face he had in the photo, the innocent-looking eyes, the accepting face and the adorable big front teeth.
He used to wear his watch on his right hand too, revealing a sort of childish disregard to custom and a concern for comfort (since I read somewhere that he is left-handed). Since I sort of liked him, I also wore my watch on my right wrist back then.
Now, I recall seeing the watch on his left hand like everybody else.
I also remember liking the teener who seemed shy and schoolboy-like. I like seeing his unsophisticated self, his natural attitude, not really conscious of so many eyes watching him.
Now, I am still fascinated with the man he turned out to be.
I do know that typically, a rich young lad who grew up in the kind of environment he is could turn out to be a spoilt SOB or an emotionally handicapped person, unless he had someone to guide him along his way.
But, when things turned out differently in my own life, I realized that normal is as normal does. Insisting that they want to live a normal life is really silly, you know.
Normal in our standards is different from normal in their standards.
Because the norms that men adhere to often differ according to the planes of existence so it is quite overrated to say “I want to have as normal a life as possible.”
There is nothing really special about Prince William really. I have been watching some youtube clips of the guy as he attends one ceremony or another and the girls simply went wild.
I have never exhibited such a reaction in my life so I cannot understand that sort of hoo-haa over another person. Well, I guess I am not just into iconic idolatry.
Come to think of it, when did I ever madly scream over someone? I know I like Sandra Bullock and I adore Hugh Grant (hehe, I just watched Two Weeks Notice so may hang-up). Reese Witherspoon is cool too. And I think I sort of fancy Joe Jonas and Demi Lovato as well. And now, after watching Twilight (months after the Twilight craze) I guess I am also into Pattinson (or maybe, it’s the Edward Cullen character itself, Pattinson could do with more passionate intensity in a cool and not overrated manner.)
But, I have never gone wild over them.
During fiestas, when people in my hometown would throng over the arrival of a celebrity, I would go to the opposite direction (I hate the crush of people so I always avoid throngs and crowds as often as possible).
But then, I have not yet seen Prince William in person. Maybe if I do see him, I would also start screaming my head off (hehe, wonder what good it will do me, really stupid reaction).
Well, I just am plainly fascinated with Prince William in the same manner that Shakespeare, Byron, Shelley and Dickinson interest me. There is also the sense of wonder and curiosity about who or what he really is.
I mean, it is the kind of feeling you get when you hear a really good song and you simply want to download it from the internet so you will have a copy and you can play it anytime you want to. That is how I feel for him.
I equate the feeling with listening to the song Little Wonders by Rob Thomas. It’s beautiful.
I have always been fascinated by nonexistent men when I was young. There was our national hero and then there is the child Jesus (He is God so He does not qualify as “man”).
The Jose Rizal fascination was inspired by a book on Rizal I read before. The fascination with the child Jesus was inspired by a Christmas time movie…and the fascination with Prince William was inspired by a picture of a 14 or 15 year old William smiling toothily and with childlike joy in front of the camera. So, I actually fell fascinated with the boy he was once, not the man he has become.
In fact, I remember feeling a little disappointed with how he turned out to be. I know it is sort of wrong to feel that way since that is pretty stupid but I sort of feel as if he has not actually lived up to the potential that I sensed in the boy.
He lost the happy, childlike look on that charming face he had in the photo, the innocent-looking eyes, the accepting face and the adorable big front teeth.
He used to wear his watch on his right hand too, revealing a sort of childish disregard to custom and a concern for comfort (since I read somewhere that he is left-handed). Since I sort of liked him, I also wore my watch on my right wrist back then.
Now, I recall seeing the watch on his left hand like everybody else.
I also remember liking the teener who seemed shy and schoolboy-like. I like seeing his unsophisticated self, his natural attitude, not really conscious of so many eyes watching him.
Now, I am still fascinated with the man he turned out to be.
I do know that typically, a rich young lad who grew up in the kind of environment he is could turn out to be a spoilt SOB or an emotionally handicapped person, unless he had someone to guide him along his way.
But, when things turned out differently in my own life, I realized that normal is as normal does. Insisting that they want to live a normal life is really silly, you know.
Normal in our standards is different from normal in their standards.
Because the norms that men adhere to often differ according to the planes of existence so it is quite overrated to say “I want to have as normal a life as possible.”
There is nothing really special about Prince William really. I have been watching some youtube clips of the guy as he attends one ceremony or another and the girls simply went wild.
I have never exhibited such a reaction in my life so I cannot understand that sort of hoo-haa over another person. Well, I guess I am not just into iconic idolatry.
Come to think of it, when did I ever madly scream over someone? I know I like Sandra Bullock and I adore Hugh Grant (hehe, I just watched Two Weeks Notice so may hang-up). Reese Witherspoon is cool too. And I think I sort of fancy Joe Jonas and Demi Lovato as well. And now, after watching Twilight (months after the Twilight craze) I guess I am also into Pattinson (or maybe, it’s the Edward Cullen character itself, Pattinson could do with more passionate intensity in a cool and not overrated manner.)
But, I have never gone wild over them.
During fiestas, when people in my hometown would throng over the arrival of a celebrity, I would go to the opposite direction (I hate the crush of people so I always avoid throngs and crowds as often as possible).
But then, I have not yet seen Prince William in person. Maybe if I do see him, I would also start screaming my head off (hehe, wonder what good it will do me, really stupid reaction).
Well, I just am plainly fascinated with Prince William in the same manner that Shakespeare, Byron, Shelley and Dickinson interest me. There is also the sense of wonder and curiosity about who or what he really is.
I mean, it is the kind of feeling you get when you hear a really good song and you simply want to download it from the internet so you will have a copy and you can play it anytime you want to. That is how I feel for him.
I equate the feeling with listening to the song Little Wonders by Rob Thomas. It’s beautiful.
Have I Ever Been In Love?
(The Account of a Pocketbook Love-Nut)
Mood: Reflective
Music: Little Wonders by Rob Thomas
The answer is no.
Why?
Well, you have to have a clear definition of what love is before you can answer that question. The question is similar to the question, Have you really lived?
I am in a philosophical mood today because it is 5 in Sunday morning and I have to accompany my sister to take her SATT at WVSU. I also have to check my results for the M.A. Ed.
What is love?
Reading a lot of romance pocketbooks really ruins a person’s proper perspective of love and life. I guess I got a nasty overdose of romances recently and I have come to understand that those books are actually out of this world-modern-day-fairy-tales and like fairy tales; they are so untrue and focused on an overabundance of clichés.
Oh well, they are entertaining and rather enervating.
Well, to a pocketbook junkie like myself, love is:
ü A never ending love-affair
ü A rare, overwhelming emotional upheaval that turns your world upside down
ü An exciting roller-coaster ride
ü A happily-ever after entanglement with a single man
ü Is possible only with a rich, handsome man who is always caring and understanding
ü Starts with clanging bells or a bang
My teacher’sin highschool used to warn my mother about my propensity to read English romance pocketbooks (mostly harlequin/mills and boon titles or zebra romances or whatever there is basta mabasa).
They told my mom that my reading interest would get me knocked up and before she knows it, I would turn up on her doorstep with a baby in my arm.
Boohoo.
Well, Ma’am, I am twenty four years old now, a college graduate, with an odd career path, while working on a masters degree and very much unpregnant and unattached… and yes, I am still reading my romances and I have a growing collection at home that sort of frightens my mother. Very sorry to disappoint and dash your I-told-you-so dreams…
In fact, in a wondering voice, my Mom said that my reading kept me absolutely out of any possible and pissible relationships.
Why?
Reading made me lazy. I spent most of my time tucked on a comfortable chair reading a book. It also made me fat and has thus made me the anti-social that I am today.
A classmate said reading made me set impossible standards about men and relationships that sort of turned me against the real word.
Reading pocketbooks and seeing life convinced me that the kind of love I want and need for myself only exist in the pages of books. As one character in Home Alone 4 said, everybody’s parents now get divorced. Whew. She was so right!
Reading satisfies me. I feel no need to seek things out since I could read them anyway. I cry with the characters, fall in love with them, laugh with them… In fact, favorite authors have become like friends to me.
I used to wonder if the old maids I koew turned to reading as comfort for the lonely times they have. I did not realize that reading has turned them into what they are.
Of course, I still want to get married someday and have a family of my own. But, if it will not happen to me, I know I will not feel sad and bitter.
That is one things I promised I will never be, a bitter, self-pitying old maid. I have a lot of things to do and I would be glad to have the freedom to do them too. If my prince never arrives…that is.
Mood: Reflective
Music: Little Wonders by Rob Thomas
The answer is no.
Why?
Well, you have to have a clear definition of what love is before you can answer that question. The question is similar to the question, Have you really lived?
I am in a philosophical mood today because it is 5 in Sunday morning and I have to accompany my sister to take her SATT at WVSU. I also have to check my results for the M.A. Ed.
What is love?
Reading a lot of romance pocketbooks really ruins a person’s proper perspective of love and life. I guess I got a nasty overdose of romances recently and I have come to understand that those books are actually out of this world-modern-day-fairy-tales and like fairy tales; they are so untrue and focused on an overabundance of clichés.
Oh well, they are entertaining and rather enervating.
Well, to a pocketbook junkie like myself, love is:
ü A never ending love-affair
ü A rare, overwhelming emotional upheaval that turns your world upside down
ü An exciting roller-coaster ride
ü A happily-ever after entanglement with a single man
ü Is possible only with a rich, handsome man who is always caring and understanding
ü Starts with clanging bells or a bang
My teacher’sin highschool used to warn my mother about my propensity to read English romance pocketbooks (mostly harlequin/mills and boon titles or zebra romances or whatever there is basta mabasa).
They told my mom that my reading interest would get me knocked up and before she knows it, I would turn up on her doorstep with a baby in my arm.
Boohoo.
Well, Ma’am, I am twenty four years old now, a college graduate, with an odd career path, while working on a masters degree and very much unpregnant and unattached… and yes, I am still reading my romances and I have a growing collection at home that sort of frightens my mother. Very sorry to disappoint and dash your I-told-you-so dreams…
In fact, in a wondering voice, my Mom said that my reading kept me absolutely out of any possible and pissible relationships.
Why?
Reading made me lazy. I spent most of my time tucked on a comfortable chair reading a book. It also made me fat and has thus made me the anti-social that I am today.
A classmate said reading made me set impossible standards about men and relationships that sort of turned me against the real word.
Reading pocketbooks and seeing life convinced me that the kind of love I want and need for myself only exist in the pages of books. As one character in Home Alone 4 said, everybody’s parents now get divorced. Whew. She was so right!
Reading satisfies me. I feel no need to seek things out since I could read them anyway. I cry with the characters, fall in love with them, laugh with them… In fact, favorite authors have become like friends to me.
I used to wonder if the old maids I koew turned to reading as comfort for the lonely times they have. I did not realize that reading has turned them into what they are.
Of course, I still want to get married someday and have a family of my own. But, if it will not happen to me, I know I will not feel sad and bitter.
That is one things I promised I will never be, a bitter, self-pitying old maid. I have a lot of things to do and I would be glad to have the freedom to do them too. If my prince never arrives…that is.
A Mission
I have been thinking about the things I have been doing as a teacher.
I came to the point of feeling a certain sort of dissatisfaction about how I did my job and how I turned out to be in the end.
I guess I was just trying too hard. I have set too high a standard for me to reach and I ended up feelings unhappy.
No one can change the world in just a year, yes. I cannot mould a person into becoming something that I want him to be and I have been doing just that for almost two years of my teaching career.
And if a student does not fit the mold, I immediately reject him.
I never realized that my duty as a teacher is not to change a person into a better one. He has to do that for himself and I can only help him make choices.
Amo lang daa gali ya role ko as a teacher.:To show my students that they have options in life. Making the decision is their job, not mine.
I guess I feel better now that I understand the extent of my mission.
I guess the fact that one of the most brilliant students I handled this year reportedly got pregnant depressed me. My God, she is only what, 13 years old?
Was I not able to teach her the importance of safe sex (well, we have not taken that up in our lit class but I wish I did). Or at least, did I not somehow discuss the necessity of keeping oneself chaste in this day and age or avoiding entanglements at their age?
I feel bad because I was not able to do something. She is a very intelligent girl and has so much potential.
Two of her friends led her astray I guess and I felt I should have warned her beforehand.
But then, I realized that is beyond me. I am only their teacher in English I and I am not in contact with her for such a long time.
I still feel bad though. I should have been more sensitive, more discerning. I should have kept a careful tab on her.
I was not able to do much for this child. I could have done better. I just do not know what that better is.
With this experience, I learned that as a teacher, I should not be selfish. I should nopt allow myself to wallow in self-doubt and self-pity and should, instead, focus my attention on these young folks who needs them.
Because to be really honest, in the middle of the school-year, I have been happily wallowing in the depths of self-pity and despair that I was not able to open my senses to the needs of my students.
I have been very selfish. I eagerly wanted to pull the hours to the time I could go home and sleep the whole night off.
I now realized that while in school, I should have kept my own problems and worries somewhere else. As a teacher, I am obliged to lead my students. They need my guidance.
And when my duty is done, I could then turn to God and let Him lead me and guide me. Because He is my teacher.
I came to the point of feeling a certain sort of dissatisfaction about how I did my job and how I turned out to be in the end.
I guess I was just trying too hard. I have set too high a standard for me to reach and I ended up feelings unhappy.
No one can change the world in just a year, yes. I cannot mould a person into becoming something that I want him to be and I have been doing just that for almost two years of my teaching career.
And if a student does not fit the mold, I immediately reject him.
I never realized that my duty as a teacher is not to change a person into a better one. He has to do that for himself and I can only help him make choices.
Amo lang daa gali ya role ko as a teacher.:To show my students that they have options in life. Making the decision is their job, not mine.
I guess I feel better now that I understand the extent of my mission.
I guess the fact that one of the most brilliant students I handled this year reportedly got pregnant depressed me. My God, she is only what, 13 years old?
Was I not able to teach her the importance of safe sex (well, we have not taken that up in our lit class but I wish I did). Or at least, did I not somehow discuss the necessity of keeping oneself chaste in this day and age or avoiding entanglements at their age?
I feel bad because I was not able to do something. She is a very intelligent girl and has so much potential.
Two of her friends led her astray I guess and I felt I should have warned her beforehand.
But then, I realized that is beyond me. I am only their teacher in English I and I am not in contact with her for such a long time.
I still feel bad though. I should have been more sensitive, more discerning. I should have kept a careful tab on her.
I was not able to do much for this child. I could have done better. I just do not know what that better is.
With this experience, I learned that as a teacher, I should not be selfish. I should nopt allow myself to wallow in self-doubt and self-pity and should, instead, focus my attention on these young folks who needs them.
Because to be really honest, in the middle of the school-year, I have been happily wallowing in the depths of self-pity and despair that I was not able to open my senses to the needs of my students.
I have been very selfish. I eagerly wanted to pull the hours to the time I could go home and sleep the whole night off.
I now realized that while in school, I should have kept my own problems and worries somewhere else. As a teacher, I am obliged to lead my students. They need my guidance.
And when my duty is done, I could then turn to God and let Him lead me and guide me. Because He is my teacher.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Clueless
Life is one tricky old game. I guess, if I were an irreverent atheist, it would be so aesy to make fun of God and say that He is one wicked game master who wanted to play with creatures and test certain theories. Or He could one really lackwit mad scientist who wanted to prove his theories.
Whatever we say, life really sucks.
And there is no life on earth which sucks as much as mine does.
I have been a part of an ugly conspiracy which I am asking God now not to let blow on my face since I have learned my lessons and would unlikely forget them for the rest of my life.
In fact, here is a summary of the things I learned from my ugly experience. Maybe, someday, I can frankly tralk it all out.
I know that at this ppoint, I am one of the villains in the story and gee, I believe I would rather be the abused one, the battered heroine, the conspired against idiot than the evil doer.
First, I learned the importance of really getting to know yourself. Knowing what you can and cannot do will help you make the right decisions and choices. This experience taught me a lot about myself. I may leave this part of my journey smiling but deep inside are the indelible marks of my journey with my learners. Deep inside is the knowledge that the actual journey is not yet finished and the marathon must keep on.
Second, I learned that one must be careful in accepting responsibilities. And, once a responsibility has been accepted, one must not think of what one can get from the duty. It is enough to know that you keep your end of the bargain. Doing less would give you sleepless nights and a very bothersome conscience.
Third, I realized that money is the least important motivation of all (in my case that is). It never works to measure all you do as a way of earning money. This may sound really impractical but, it is more important that you get an internal drive to finish what you have started, an emotional investment to do your part with the best that you can and a sense that what you are doing is right because you heart agrees with you.
A clean heart, a quiet mind and a peaceful soul is the most important reward of all.
********************
I have learned to give allowances to the mistakes that other people makes. They are only as human as I am and are therefore just as privileged to be given second chances.
Yes, most of the my learners have committed grave moistakes and made choices which pulled them to inevitable difficulties. I used to be so impatient about these matters. However, coming into contact with them regularly made me realize that they did not know they had a choice.
My forays into the world of my learners taught me to always remind my students in the formal school system to be aware that in life, they have choices and options that they should always consider. Forearmed is forewarned.
I now make it a point to show everyone that there is always this way and other ways and that the choices they make in the present would determine the direction of their future.
******************
Whatever we say, life really sucks.
And there is no life on earth which sucks as much as mine does.
I have been a part of an ugly conspiracy which I am asking God now not to let blow on my face since I have learned my lessons and would unlikely forget them for the rest of my life.
In fact, here is a summary of the things I learned from my ugly experience. Maybe, someday, I can frankly tralk it all out.
I know that at this ppoint, I am one of the villains in the story and gee, I believe I would rather be the abused one, the battered heroine, the conspired against idiot than the evil doer.
First, I learned the importance of really getting to know yourself. Knowing what you can and cannot do will help you make the right decisions and choices. This experience taught me a lot about myself. I may leave this part of my journey smiling but deep inside are the indelible marks of my journey with my learners. Deep inside is the knowledge that the actual journey is not yet finished and the marathon must keep on.
Second, I learned that one must be careful in accepting responsibilities. And, once a responsibility has been accepted, one must not think of what one can get from the duty. It is enough to know that you keep your end of the bargain. Doing less would give you sleepless nights and a very bothersome conscience.
Third, I realized that money is the least important motivation of all (in my case that is). It never works to measure all you do as a way of earning money. This may sound really impractical but, it is more important that you get an internal drive to finish what you have started, an emotional investment to do your part with the best that you can and a sense that what you are doing is right because you heart agrees with you.
A clean heart, a quiet mind and a peaceful soul is the most important reward of all.
********************
I have learned to give allowances to the mistakes that other people makes. They are only as human as I am and are therefore just as privileged to be given second chances.
Yes, most of the my learners have committed grave moistakes and made choices which pulled them to inevitable difficulties. I used to be so impatient about these matters. However, coming into contact with them regularly made me realize that they did not know they had a choice.
My forays into the world of my learners taught me to always remind my students in the formal school system to be aware that in life, they have choices and options that they should always consider. Forearmed is forewarned.
I now make it a point to show everyone that there is always this way and other ways and that the choices they make in the present would determine the direction of their future.
******************
Great Talks
Nene graduated yesterday along with all the other SSC students.
Anyway, my mind is already off and running to another prospect which is my graduate school.
However, before I ran out of steam thinking, dreaming and obsessing about it, I just would like to reflect on the past month.
Yes, March is always an enlightening month. It is the time for school alumnus to speak up for the graduates. I have always loved listening to the speeches of these great people.
It helps me work out a clear course for myself as to what to do to reach the achievement they have achieved.
The Recognition and Promotion Program speaker for this year was Engr. Aristotle Pardilla. His speech sort of encouraged the non-honor students to work hard since he himself was also not an honor graduate. His secrets to success were: 1) discipline, 2)knowing your strength and weaknesses, 3) honesty and 4) determination.
He also suggested that when it comes to work, one should avoid over promising and should instead, overwork. If a superior asks one to work at this level, and knowing that you could not do so, you should be honest and come upfront. Then, you should reset the limit and overachieve it.
The SSC 10th Commencement Speaker was even better. Ma’am Jazmin Pama, the current Schools Division Superintendent and another PNHS Alumna, also said that the secret to success would be persistence and perseverance.
She went on to insist that without persistence an perseverance, talent and genius will we wasted.
She shared the story of an 18 year old young man whose surprising persistence got him a good job.
But, what I absolutely liked was the last story she shared. The one about the Wisdom of the Hot Chocolate.
I like that one better.
In the story, a group of college graduate visited their former college professor who has now retired.
The professor served them hot chocolate in one big jar. Then, he took out different cups in various types, sizes and shapes. There were expensive cups, crystal cups, ordinary cups, regular cups etc.
When his former students took part of the chocolate, the professor started to speak about how the cups left on the table were the most ordinary ones. The more expensive, organized and neat ones have already been taken.
All unconsciously went for the best cup when one is really after the hot chocolate.
He said that everybody seems to want the best cup for himself. Now that they have already each chosen and taken a cup, had they not noticed that they kept looking at each others cup and comparing one from the other and who has the best cup of all?
But, is not the chocolate they are drinking all from the same jar ?
The cup is supposed to contain the chocolate and the chocolate they are drinking is just the same. So, is there a reason for comparison?
The professor then compared the chocolate to life. And the cups to friends, wealth, courses, career paths and choices etc.
The cup does not define the quality of the chocolate. The same is true in ones life. Friends, studies, etc are simply tools that contain life. They are not the defining factor in ones life.
God brews the hot chocolate but He does not chose the cup.
Ma’am Pama then ended her message with the following words:
“The happiest people do not have the best of everything, they just make the best of what they have.”
Anyway, my mind is already off and running to another prospect which is my graduate school.
However, before I ran out of steam thinking, dreaming and obsessing about it, I just would like to reflect on the past month.
Yes, March is always an enlightening month. It is the time for school alumnus to speak up for the graduates. I have always loved listening to the speeches of these great people.
It helps me work out a clear course for myself as to what to do to reach the achievement they have achieved.
The Recognition and Promotion Program speaker for this year was Engr. Aristotle Pardilla. His speech sort of encouraged the non-honor students to work hard since he himself was also not an honor graduate. His secrets to success were: 1) discipline, 2)knowing your strength and weaknesses, 3) honesty and 4) determination.
He also suggested that when it comes to work, one should avoid over promising and should instead, overwork. If a superior asks one to work at this level, and knowing that you could not do so, you should be honest and come upfront. Then, you should reset the limit and overachieve it.
The SSC 10th Commencement Speaker was even better. Ma’am Jazmin Pama, the current Schools Division Superintendent and another PNHS Alumna, also said that the secret to success would be persistence and perseverance.
She went on to insist that without persistence an perseverance, talent and genius will we wasted.
She shared the story of an 18 year old young man whose surprising persistence got him a good job.
But, what I absolutely liked was the last story she shared. The one about the Wisdom of the Hot Chocolate.
I like that one better.
In the story, a group of college graduate visited their former college professor who has now retired.
The professor served them hot chocolate in one big jar. Then, he took out different cups in various types, sizes and shapes. There were expensive cups, crystal cups, ordinary cups, regular cups etc.
When his former students took part of the chocolate, the professor started to speak about how the cups left on the table were the most ordinary ones. The more expensive, organized and neat ones have already been taken.
All unconsciously went for the best cup when one is really after the hot chocolate.
He said that everybody seems to want the best cup for himself. Now that they have already each chosen and taken a cup, had they not noticed that they kept looking at each others cup and comparing one from the other and who has the best cup of all?
But, is not the chocolate they are drinking all from the same jar ?
The cup is supposed to contain the chocolate and the chocolate they are drinking is just the same. So, is there a reason for comparison?
The professor then compared the chocolate to life. And the cups to friends, wealth, courses, career paths and choices etc.
The cup does not define the quality of the chocolate. The same is true in ones life. Friends, studies, etc are simply tools that contain life. They are not the defining factor in ones life.
God brews the hot chocolate but He does not chose the cup.
Ma’am Pama then ended her message with the following words:
“The happiest people do not have the best of everything, they just make the best of what they have.”
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