Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! 2009

December 31, 2009

As we come to the end of the year. I try to look back at the year that is just hours to passing. And try to reflect on the things that I have learned from the past 365 (err, 364) days.

I’ve learned that...

If you perceive somebody as weak, it’s just that. A perception. For all you know, it’s you who are weak for even entertaining the thought.
If you think you are wise and mature. It may be just that. A thought. Hehehehehehe. So dig deeper before you brag about it.
It’s easy to learn forex. It’s hard to keep your account alive. Nor your confidence And that there are a lot of strategies. Just limited funds. Hehehehehe.
That life doesn’t end with a failure. It ends when you die. Literally.
That sometimes people do stupid things. To take the pain away. Making them stupid? Well I’d say human. Hehehehe.
That it’s not what you have that matters. But how much. Hehehehe. Most importantly, who you have. And how much is your networth. Combined. Wahahahaha!.
That money can’t buy love. But something for a loved one.
That no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life has to go on. Because you have no other option. Do you?
I’ve learned that if you haven’t done what needs to be done today. There is tomorrow. Well, hopefully. Hehehehe. So better do it today.
I’ve learned that you don’t need to spend much cash in order to be beautiful or handsome. Just find somebody who finds you one. Hehehehe. Or better yet, go to a public hospital. Nyahahahaha.
That opportunities don’t come knocking once. But a lot of times. But what counts is letting it in.
That you don’t look for happiness. It finds you. Instead, focus on your family and friends. And the things that matters most. As in focus. Hehehehe.
That I still don’t know what success really means.
It’s not important that the people you love and care, would love and care you back. Aba’y problema na nila yun.
That life is a series of complications. No matter how hard you keep it simple, troubles will find you. So be strong.
When you learn something from a mistake. It’s not a mistake. But an experience. So don’t regret.
That a fall is painful. Very.
That you will forget what you said, or did. But not what you felt.
That time is not gold. It is diamond.
That things are easier said than done. At least they are said. Hehehehehe.
Same goes with values. Hehehehehe.

Happy New Year!

and belated Merry Christmas!

Gusto kong Matuto ng.....

June 29, 2009

Pede bang lagyan ng prologue ang sagot? Hehehehe

As cliché as it may sound, it’s as true as it can get. Money can’t buy happiness. Not that I have a lot of money and yet I’m unhappy. Or that I’m unhappy with a lot of money. (I’m not that unstable. Hehehehe.) Neither am I unhappy because I have no money. Not because like the other statement that preceded it, is not logical, but simply because it’s not just the case.) I can say I have some money from working my ass hard for several years. And yet when I look back at all those years, I am just surprised to recognize that they’ve been worthless in some ways. Not that the wisdom gained nor the time spent with your loved ones are meaningless or that hardwork just so you can save enough for the rainy days or that being so frugal to yourself are of no value. It is just that, sometimes we get absorbed in working so hard that we put off matters that we wish to do for ourselves. Things that could've made us, happier if not at least, happy. That, you see, it should not come as a blow (and yet ironically it does) when one day, when we think we have found the time for ourselves, to do the things we wanted, we realize, “uhm, matanda na tayo”, hehehehe. (And oh, not that the last statement is true for me, nyahahahaha).

They say that you can never be too late for the things you want to do, but in reality you can. Because accept it or not, age has its limitations.

Kaya tama yan. Pagaralan ang gustong pagaralan. Habang maraming pang oras. Hehehehe Life is shorter than we think.

And by the way. Gusto kong matuto ng.....maraming bagay. Lahat ng nilista nyo. Hehehehe. Siguro ang idadagdag ko na lang, ang maging naughty. Sa taong mahal ko. Hehehehe. Wala po akong iniisip na madumi.

Ladies vs Gentlemen: Bakit May Humor Gap?

April 23, 2009


Hmmmm…bakit parang may humor gap?

Because there really is.

Now, that is one of the difference between men and women. What he finds amusing and funny in general, she may find cheap, cocky, an attack to the female kind (What?!, Hehehe). What she on the other hand find laughable and entertaining, he may find sarcarstic, cynic and feminist. And do not wonder. You see for what matters for him is a sense of humor, and for her, humor na may sense. If you know what I mean. Hehehe.

Men will laugh at almost anything, because it really is – at least for them (no offense, Hehehehe). Usually at those with sexual connotations/suggestions, and aggression towards the same sex (to put down their “competitors” as humor by men is used to attract the opposite sex – which would explain why they say, men can laugh women into bed, literally). Hehehe.

Women on the other hand are not like this. They don’t share the same goal (to appeal to men), much more expect the same reward (to be laid to bed by the opposite sex). If men would laugh at almost anything, women on the other hand, are swift to locate the unfunny (and thus more “selective, particular, picky”), slower to get the joke and more pleased when they do. Really, girls, no offense, hehehehe.

The humor gap between the genders has been explained by a study of 10 men and 10 women asked to rate 70 black and white cartoons on the “funniness scale” in Standford School of Medicine. It has been seen that:

“Men and women share much of the same humor-response system; both use to a similar degree the part of the brain responsible for semantic knowledge and juxtaposition and the part involved in language processing. But they also found that some brain regions were activated more in women. These included the left prefrontal cortex, suggesting a greater emphasis onlanguage and executive processing in women, and the nucleus accumbens … which is part of the mesolimbic reward center. ”

Which in simple terms, translate to “difference”. Hehehehe.

Now, there are always exceptions to the rule. For, individuals to find something humorous, do not depend on hormones, gender or instinct alone, but on a lot more variables like culture, maturity, education and intelligence.

Which would explain why there are women who could laugh men into bed. And why there are men who are witty. Hehehehe.

Again, no offense. Peace.

Corruption in the Philippines: Bayaran na naman ng Tax

April 15, 2009

Nais ko lang ibahagi ang sumusunod. Nainspire lang isulat. Hehehe. Kahit walang moral lesson. Medyo huli na nga lang. Kasi last day na ng bayaran.
Posted on: Apr 15, 2009, 12:07 PM

---

Bayaran ng naman ng tax.

Sakay ako ng bus. Tulog. E ikaw kaya magising ng maagang maaga. Para magbayad ng tax. Sino kaya ang di pipilling matulog na lang. Ng mahimbing. Yung tipong di na magigising. Hehehe. Sa banyo. Habang naglalakad. Ah, sa bus na lang. At oo, alam kong tulog ako. E nagising ako e. Hehehehe. Ng ratsada ng isang matandang lalakeng nakaupo sa bandang unahan ko. Abay akala ko nanaginip ako e. Ng matandang lalake, namputsa naman?!!!! Bakit ba di na lang ng dalaga. O kaya binata. Hehehehe. Wag lang ng syientonwebe anyos! E yun daw edad nya e. Hehehehe. Nung una di ko alam kung saan ako nagising. Sa edad, sa boses o sa amoy ng matanda. Hehehe. Ngunit nung mahimasmasan. Sigurado ako. Llitany nya ang gumising ng kanina lang ay nagpapahinga kong diwa:

“Wala ng pagasa ang Pilipinas! Matindi na ang korapsyon dito. Ang pulitika ginagawang negosyo.”

Muntik na akong magpara. Nagalinlangan. Magbayad ng buwis? O bumili ng tiket. Papuntang America. Maluwag naman ang tourist visa. At mag-TNT na lang. Abay pareho lang atang sugal. Ang pamamalagi dito at ang pagtatago sa ibang bansa. Tiyak mas malaki pa maiipon ko. Hhmmmmm........ Sayang. At tulog nga ako kanina. Madami na syang sinabi e. Alam ko. Kasi nga narinig ko sa panaginip. Ewan ko ba naman at di ko maala ngayong gising na ako. Nangyari na ito e. Tuwing mananaginip ako ng numero sa lotto. Nyahahahaha. Sabi pa nya:

“Talamak na nga. Buti na lang taga-amerika ako. Kahit sino pa paupuin mo dyan, e kung yung nakapaligid naman e corrupt din, e ganun din. “

Hmmmmmmmmm.....(iba ibig sabihin niyan, hehehehe). Me biglang sumaglit sa isip ko. Intermission.

“E abugado ako. Sabi nga sa yo kanina, dami ko na nakita. Halehalimbawa. Sa branch ___ ng supreme court. Stenographer. Nakakatanggap ng bonus na 100T”

Sabay singit ng kasama niya:

“Baka me makarinig sa yo”

Sabay tingin sa akin? Ano ba? Pagdudahan ba ako? Sa gandang lalake kong ito? O babae? Sabagay tama siya. Narinig ko nga. E ano ngayon? Hehehe. Nahulaan atang isusulat ko ito. E gusto ko e.

“E wala ako pakialam.” (E ako din. Sabi ko sa sarili ko.)

“79 years na naman ako. Handa na akong mamatay.”

Hmmmmmmmmm....Napaisip na naman ako. Ng ibang bagay. Hehehehe. Na masarap. Nyahahahaha. Gutom na ako e. Di ko tuloy masyadong narining ang iba niyang ratsada.

“Dati iniisip ko. Yungmayayaman bakit nasali pa sa pulitika. Me pera na, hahanap pa ng sakit ng ulo?”

Ah, alam ko sagot diyan. Power.

“Si ________, di bilyonaryo, kundi multibilyonaryo. Pero ano? Namulitika pa rin. E minsan sumabay ako ke councillor __________. Wala namang emergency. E matrapik. Sabi niya, patabihin mo nga konti. Nagwangwang. Biglang nahawi. Ambilis tuloy naming. Narealize ko, ah, power.”

Kitam?

“Mantakin mo, councillor pa lang yan. Isipin mo na lang kung ano ang kayang gawin ng presidente. E kaya nga si _________, sumali pa, e para proteksyonan ang negosyo.”

Malas. City hall na. Kelangang magdesisyon. Bilis. Ah, bababa na lang ako. Tapos. Kung sakaling magbago isip. Sa pagbabayad, e sasakay na lang ulit. Pauwi. Nyahahaha! Ngunit, datapwat, subalit, naisip ko bigla. Ang aking pending application. Kelangan ang record, malinis. Pansamantala, hehehe. At isa pa, paano ako makakapagreklamo sa sistemang bulok, kung ako’y papakabulok? Nagmamalinis? Medyo lang.

So ayun, luminya ako. At kasunod ng aking pagninilay nilay. Sa kung anong oras na naman. Makakauwi. Sa pagkahaba habang pila. Naramdaman ko ang lungkot. Habang pinipilit kong imaginin ngunit di ko lubos na maisip sa kung kaninong bulsa na naman mapupunta ang perang pinaghirapan. Sa kung ano na namang maiskandalong proyekto ilalagak, sa magkanong komisyon? Sila lang nakakaalam.

Sa kung kaninong sakripisyo?

Ahhhh....

Bayaran na naman ng tax.

BIR

February 16, 2009

Below is a BIR story emailed by a friend. Enjoy!
_______________________________________________________________

HOPE BIR WILL COME UP WITH A STANDARD PROCEDURE FOR THESE WORKERS WHO ARE WILLING TO PAY TAXES TO THE GOVERNMENT... (well, sa mga willing lang naman. hehehehe. )

ONLY IN THE PHILIPPINES.

Dear Joey,

Kumusta sir. Naalala mo pa si Mjolnir? Yung anak kong gustong pumasok sa McCann? May nakakatawang storing nangyari sa kanya. Nang nangailangan si Jol ng TIN ay ginawa siyang pingpong ball ng BIR. So isinulat niya yung BIR experience niya tapos nilagay niya sa internet. Biglang kumalat. Last time I heard ay nasa L.A. na.

Anyway after 3 days sa internet ay nabasa ni BIR Commisioner Parayno yung story. Pinadalhan kaagad si Jol ng TIN card via mail. Ang bilis.

Ang maganda pa nito ay nag-email kay Jol yesterday si Bart Guingona. Gusto raw nilang gawing play. Tuwang tuwa si Jol. Sabi ko nga ay ang agang dumating ng 15 minutes of fame niya.

Anyway here's his original story:


ADVENTURES SA KAWATANAN NG RENTAS INTERNAS
ni Jol Ong

Okay. So natanggap na ako nung November sa NCCA bilang researcher. Contract employee lang. 3 months. May Yearbook project kasi sila at kailangan ng extrang tao.

Okay lang ang bayad, kaso may 10% withholding tax, at siyempre, dapat may Tax Identification Number (TIN) ako. Sotinanong ko yung boss ko- "Sir, di po ba yung employer ang maglalakad ng TIN ng employee?"

Sagot ni bosing- "Di ka kasi regular employee kaya ikaw ang maglakad ng TIN mo."

Assurance nung assistant ni bosing- "Okay lang yan, one-time hassle lang yan."

Ala ako problema. Sige, ako maglalakad ng TIN ko. Tutal, ano ba ang > worst case scenario? Mahabang pila? Red Tape? Naknamsiomai, sanay naman ako sa UP e-kuhaan ng classcards, pila sa registration, pila sa graduation, etc. Ako rin naman ang naglalakad ng registration ng beetle ko, at sa pagrerenew ko ng lisensya, so okay lang.

Sabi ni bosing, dun daw ako mag-apply ng TIN sa BIR Main, sa may QC, para mas konti ang pila! . May BIR din naman sa labas ng Intramuros, walking distance para sa mga sanay maglakad, pero mas konti raw ang tao sa Main.

So, sige, nagpaalam ako, isang araw mag-aabsent ako para lakarin yun. Dun ako sa Main, dahil malapit lang sa amin, tapos plano ko, dadaanan ko yung ilang research materials sa UP. Solve!

Pagdating ko sa BIR Main, nagulat nga ako dahil wala ngang katao-tao. Ni wala akong nakitang pila, maliban lang dun sa pila sa harap, dahil tsinecheck nung sekyu yung bag ng mga tao. Nung pagpasok ko, wala pala silang TIN forms. Wow. Naubusan ng TIN Forms ang BIR Main. Hanep.

Tinanong ako nung lalaki sa desk kung para saan yung TIN application ko; sabi ko, para sa work. Tinanong kung saan ako nagtatrabaho; sabi ko sa Intramuros.

"Dun ka mag-apply sa Intramuros." sabi nung lalaki.

"Di po ba puwede talaga rito?"

"Hinde, kasi sa Intramuros ka e, sila ang may hawak sa 'yo."

Okay lang, although medyo naburat ako sa efficiency nila. Ibig kong sabihin, wow, Main BIR sila tapos una, naubusan sila ng TIN Forms, pangalawa, ewan, ang laki-laki ng saklaw nilang lugar, ang laki-laki ng mga building nila, tapos hindi nila ako ma-accomodate.

Taragis, e malamang sa kanila rin naman mauuwi yung records ko kung sa BIR Davao o BIR Batanes ako mag-apply, dahil tutal, Main sila e, di ba? So ala na akong magawa, ala rin silang TIN Forms, so useless din kung magprotesta pa ako dun. So pumunta na lang akong peyups ( U.P.) for official business, for the first time. Hehehe!

Pagpasok ko sa work, sinubukan kong lakarin yung TIN application ko sa BIR sa labas ng Intramuros, yung malapit sa port area. Pag-akyat ko sa taas, hinanapan ako ng certificate of employment, at barangay clearance. At dahil walang nagsabi sa akin na kailangan ko nun, lalo na yung lalaki sa BIR Main, wala akong bitbit na requirements.

Pagbalik ko sa opisina, inexplain ko sa bosing namin yung problema. Nakatingin sa akin yung bosing ko na parang nawe-weirdohan din at di maintindihan yung paghihigpit ng BIR. Lintek, sabi nga nung isang workmate ko, the fact na nag-apply na ako for TIN, dinedeclare ko na sa gobyerno na puwede na nilang kupitan, err, kaltasan ang maliit kong suweldo. Ako na nga ang magbibigay ng pera sa kanila, ako pa ang hinihigpitan. Tanginang gobyerno yan, kahit kailan talaga pahirap sa mga tao.

Anyway, pag-aaralan pa raw nila kung mabibigyan nila ako ng certificate of employment. Yung barangay clearance, ako na ang maglalakad. Plano kong bumalik ulit sa BIR Main. Hindi ko na lang sasabihin na sa Maynila ako nagtatrabaho. Yung ninang ko na may business, binigyan ako ng TIN Forms. Form 1901, take note. Para sa mga regular employees. May pipirmahan sa likod ang employer ko. After nito, dumiretso ako sa barangay hall namin para sa clearance. Hiningan ako ng CV para sa file. Medyo naiirita na ako sa puntong ito. Isipin mo naman kung gaano ka-hassle ang buong prosesong ito, para saan? Para gawin ko ang aking role bilang mabuting mamamayan sa pagbabayad ng tamang buwis. Anyway, tinanong ako nung babae sa barangay hall kung may TIN daw ako. Napapalo ako sa noo ko.

Whoooooo!!! I LOVE THIS COUNTRY!!!!!

Okay! So may clearance na ako!

Humingi na ako ng certificate of employment sa bosing ko, at pinapapirmahan ko na siya sa likod ng Form 1901 ko. Kaso sabi niya, hindi raw puwede kasi wala ako sa roster of employees ng NCCA. Project employee lang ako e. So tinanong ko kung puwede ibalik yung mga kaltas sa akin, tutal ala naman akong TIN e, at ayaw akong bigyan ng BIR, kaya pu**ngina sila, di ko bibigay pera ko sa gobyerno! Ang problema, hindi raw puwede yun. Tuloy-tuloy ang kaltas sa suweldo ko. Kapag hindi raw kasi kinaltasan, sila raw ang malilintikan kapag nag-check ng expenses ang NCCA, makikitang hindi binawasan ang suweldo ko. So tinawag ngayon yung isang accountant ng NCCA para tulungan kami sa aming munting problema. Hindi rin maintindihan nung accountant kung bakit hinihigpitan ako ng BIR. Putsa, ako na nga ang magbibigay ng pera sa gobyerno, may gana pa silang magpakipot. Sabi nung
accountant, yung kinaltas sa akin, mapupunta pa rin sa gobyerno, may TIN man ako o wala, at hindi sa bulsa ng kung sinoman sa NCCA.

Well, dadaan muna sa gobyerno, sa BIR, bago mauwi sa bulsa ng isang congressman, pero technically, alang problema dahil pagkahaba-haba man ng prusisyon, sa simbahan pa rin ni satanas ang tuloy. Ang difference bale, kapag may TIN ako, dinedeclare ko lang na sa akin galing yung kakaning-ibon na baryang portion ng pang-tip ni Mr. Congressman sa pokpok niya sa Pegasus. Otherwise, mula kay Mr. Anonymous yung pang-tip niya.

Advise sa akin, sabihin ko na lang na freelance writer ako. Tutal, may kaltas din naman daw kapag nag-freelance ka sa mga diyaryo. Tapos i-assert ko raw na ako na ang nagbibigay ng pera sa kanilang mga letse sila kaya dapat bigyan pa nila ako ng libreng chocolait at biskwet out of gratitude mga hayop silang mga impakto sila.

Okay. So bumalik ulit ako sa BIR Main. As usual, ang pila lang ay yung sa harap, kung saan nagtse-check yung sekyu ng bomba sa mga bag ng mga tao. Anyway, babae na yung nasa desk ngayon. Pinakita ko na yung barangay clearance ko, at yung accomplished Form 1901 ko. Nung tinanong sa akin kung saan ako nagwowork, inexplain ko na freelance writer ako kaya wala akong regular employer, kaya walang nakapirma sa likod. Okay?

Okay... Hinde. sabi nung babae, since hindi ako regular employee, ibang form dapat ang finill-up-an ko. At bigla siyang naglabas ng Form 1902 at binigay sa akin. Whew, kinabahan ako dun a. Yung Form 1902, sabi niya, ay para sa mga "mixed-income individuals, " para sa mga taong hindi regular ang kita- professionals, businessmen, at sabi niya, freelance writers.

Okay! Fill-up dito, fill-up dun, okay lang!!! Magkakaroon na ako sa wakas! Inaabot ko na sa babae yung Form 1902! Eto na...

"Ummm, okay na? Ngayon, punta kayo sa West Ave. Branch namin."

Nanlaki ang mata ko. Wow, nasira agad ang aking moment of triumph.

"Err! , hindi po ba puwede rito sa Main?"

"Hinde, kasi sa Project 6 ka nakatira. West Ave. Branch namin ang may hawak sa inyo."

Naramdaman ko, parang umiikot-ikot ang paligid ko. Parang gumagaan ang ulo ko, nanglalambot at naghihina ang tuhod ko. Bigla kong naramdaman ang isang matinding pangangailangan na i-head butt ang kausap kong babae sa desk. Sa halip na isang head butt, nagtanong na lang ako.

"Puwede po bang ibang tao na lang ang maglakad nito para sa akin?"

"Oo, gawa ka ng authorization letter..."

Ah! Para akong nabunutan ng tinik sa dibdib! Papalakad ko na lang ito sa nanay ko. hehehe. Paglabas ko, marami pa ring tsinecheckan ng bomba sa bag sa harap. Ngayon alam ko na kung bakit. Ako rin gusto ko rin silang bombahin.

Hindi ko pa rin mawari, nung araw na yun, kung ano pa talaga ang purpose ng BIR Main. Nakangsiomai, dun sa maliliit na branches nila, siksikan ang mga tao, milya-milya ang pila. Sa Main, ang lawak-lawak, pero di sila nag-a-accomodate ng applications!

Sa kasamaang palad, hindi ako nakapagsulat ng authorization letter, at masyadong busy ang nanay ko para ilakad ang TIN ko. Anyway, sabi niya sa akin, may kaklase yung tita ko sa BIR West Ave. Kapag nagipit ako, hanapin ko na lang yun. Okey. Sige. Isa pa, may Form 1902 na ako, barangay certificate, at yung excuse ng aking pagiging freelancer. Pila lang siguro ang problema, pero okay na. Putsa, dapat okay na.

At nakarating din ako, isang araw, sa BIR West Ave. Sa second floor sila nag-oopisina sa isang building. Masikip yung elevator dahil sa dami ng tao. Narating ko na rin yung desk para sa TIN. Nung chineck nung babae dun yung papeles ko, hinanap nila yung pirma ng employer.

"Ay. Wala po. Freelance Writer po ako e." Napatingin sa akin yung babae, tinitigan ako sa mata na wari'y tinitimbang ang mga salitang aking nasambit...

"Ano yung Freelance Writer?"

Napapalo ako ulit sa noo.

"Ma'am, freelancer po ako. wala po akong regular na sahod. Binabayaran ako per article na sinusulat ko. Hindi po ako regular employee kaya wala akong certificate of employment."

Nung makitang Form 1902 ang dala ko, sinabihan pa akong maling form ang bitbit ko, kaya inexplain ko pa na nanggaling na ako sa BIR Main na Form 1901 ang dala ko dati pero sabi dun, mali raw ang 1901 para sa akin kaya binigyan ako ng 1902 dahil freelance writer ako, at inirefer ako sa branch nila. Nakatitig sa akin yung babae, ninamnam ang bawat salitang sinambit ko...

"Ano yung Freelance Writer?"

Okay! Kulang ka ba sa iodized salt?

Ipinaliwanag ko ulit kung ano ang freelance writer, at nakatingin pa rin siya sa akin na tila nambubullshit lang ako.

"Punta ka na lang sa Officer of the Day."

"Umm. Saan po yun?"

"Sa Seventh Floor."

1...2...3... 4...5...6. ..7...8.. .9...10.. .ayan...kumakalm a na ko.

NAK-KANANGTOKWA! !!! ANG DAMING TAONG NAKAPILA SA ELEVATOR!!!

$#@*^%$% #!!!!!!!!

Alang choice, tumakbo ako paakyat sa hagdanan mula 2nd patungong 7th floor. Hingal na hingal ako nang lapitan ko ang Officer of the Day.

"Ma'am, pinaakyat po ako mula sa second floor..."

At ipinaliwanag ko yung nangyari, mula yung pagpunta ko sa BIR Main, hanggang sa pagpunta ko sa ibaba kanina.

"Umm... at anong gusto mong gawin ko?"

Gumuho muli ang mundo ko, pero buti na lang may upuan sa likod ko. Ipinaliwanag ko ulit.

"Oo nga. Sa second floor ang application ng TIN. Bakit ka pinaakyat sa akin?"

Halos nagmamaka-awa na ako. "Ma'am, ala po ba talaga kayong magagawa?"

At inilahad ko ulit yung masasayang adventures ko sa BIR Main, sa BIR Port Area, sa BIR Main, at sa BIR nila. Awa ng diyos, may kinuhang chart yung ale, hinanap yung kategorya ko. Nung makuha yung code, sinulat niya sa isang espasyo sa 1902 ko, sabay tatak.

"Ayan. Okay na yan."

Napangiti ako. Sincere!!! Halos mapaihi na ako sa tuwa. Matatapos na!!! Kaso, putsa, ang daming taong naghihintay sa elevator. Walang choice, takbo ulit ako sa hagdanan pababa. Pagdating dun, lalaki na yung nakaupo sa desk. Pinakita ko ulit yung mga papeles ko.

"Saan ang Certificate of Employment mo?"

Nammannnnn!! !! Ano ba'to? Twilight Zone? Napasok ba ako sa isang loop?

"Bosing, hindi po ako regular employee e. Freelance writer po ako."

"Ano yun?"

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOO! !!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!

At ipinaliwanag ko ulit kung ano ang freelance writer, at ikinuwento ko yung episode kanina, at yung episode sa BIR Main, etc.

"Ito kasing Form na ito, itong 1902, para sa mga may negosyo ito e."

"E yan po ang binigay ng BIR Main sa akin, dahil hindi regular ang sahod ko!"

"May mayor's permit ka ba?"

Pikon na pikon na ako nun kaya hindi ako natawa, pero, talaga, grabe, comedy ito, men. Wow.

"Hindi ko po kailangan ng mayor's permit! Writer lang po ako!"

Ineksamin ulit nung lalaki yung papeles ko.

"Ummm, propesyunal ka ba?"

"Opo."

"Anong propesyon mo?"

"Writer po."

"May lisesnsya ka ba?"

Sa isip ko- "HU-WAAAAAAATTTTTT! !!?"

Kung kumain ako ng bulalo kanina, malamang na-stroke na ako ngayon.

"HINDI NYO PO KAILANGAN NG LISENSYA PARA MAGING WRITER!!!" Sabay follow-up ko ng "ANO BA KAYO? AKO NA MAGBABAYAD NG TAX SA INYO, PINAPAHIRAPAN NYO PA AKO!!!"

Deadma si lalaki. Nakatingin pa rin sa papeles ko, iniisip kung ano gagawin. Kung pinapunta pa niya ako ulit sa Officer of the Day, i-he-head butt ko na'to talaga. Buti na lang-

"O sige, irereceive ko ang forms mo, pero ang alam ko dapat may kasamang papeles pa ito e. Pumila ka na lang dun..."

*haaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy yyyyyyy.. .....*

Kaso, sobrang haba ng pila, at sa takbo ng mga pangayayari ngayon, ayoko nang maghintay ng isa't kalahating oras para lang mag-replay ng kuwentong kung ano ang freelance writer, at kung bakit hindi ako regular employee.

Lumabas ako, pumunta ako sa corridor. Pikon na pikon.

Tinawagan ko nanay ko, tinanong ko yung pangalan ng kaibigan dati ng tita ko sa high school na nagtatrabaho ngayon dun. Okay, nakuha ko na yung pangalan. Balik ako dun, tinanong ko yung sekyu kung saan ang opisina nung babae.

"Sa seventh floor po."

Hindeeeeee!! !!!

Pero sige, para lang magkaroon ng bunga ang paghihirap ko ngayong araw na ito- may exodus ng tao sa harap ng elevator, kaya ayun, inipon ko ang natitira kong lakas at hininga, at aking tinakbo muli ang second to seventh floor sa hagdanan.

Pagdating sa taas, halos bumagsak sa lupa ang baga ko. Nagtanong-tanong ako ulit kung saan ang opisina nung bes-pren ng tita ko, hanggang sa mapunta na ako sa gitna ng opisina nila.

Sa wakas- "Ay! Diyan yung opisina nun, pasok ka diyan."

Yehey!!!

"Ha? Ay! On-leave siya ngayon. Babalik siya sa January 2."

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOO! !!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!

Hindi pa rin nauubos ang mga tao sa elevator, hindi ko maalala kung paano ko tinakbo pababa ang first floor. Pikon na pikon ako, grabe. Pag-uwi, nakaubos yata ako ng isang pitsel ng gulaman. Hinintay kong humupa ang tila-nuclear holocaust ng galit sa loob ng dibdib ko.

Punyetang gobyerno ito!!! Letse!!! Hindi mahuli-huli yung mga tax evaders, hindi mabigyan-bigyan ng TIN yung mga nagmamagandang loob na magbayad ng buwis!!! t*ngina, no wonder may lumolobo tayong mga deficit!!! Syet!!! Ano nangyari sa iodized salt campaign ni Ramos!!!

Nung gabi, tinawagan ko si TJ, yung kasama ko sa trabaho, at kinuwento ko lahat. Lagi ko kasing kinukuwento ang bawat installment ng aking BIR adventures, at tulad ng isang epiko, grabe ang climax nung hapon na yun. Syet. Hayop sa climax. Tinatawanan ko na lang, pero nung hapon na yun kaya ko sigurong mangagat ng leeg.

Tawa rin nang tawa si TJ, at ngayon, kuwento niya, tawa rin nang tawa yung mga pinagkuwentuhan niya. Pati yung mga tao sa tambayan namin, nung kinuwento ko, di rin makahinga sa katatawa.

Langya, baka maging urban legend pa ang buhay ko, in which case, sana puwede kong i-video lahat, at lalagyan ko ng sumpa- ala "The Ring", tapos papadalhan ko ng kopya yung mga tao sa BIR.

Naisip-isip ko na lang ngayon, paano nga kung kailangan mo ng lisensya para magsulat. Isang physical manifestation ng concept ng poetic license? haha! Kung sa driver's license, may mga restrictions tulad ng:

"Vehicle up to 4500 KGS GVW" o kaya "Automatic clutch above 4500 KGS GVW", etc. paano kaya yung sa "Poetic License" o "Writing License?"

I. Restrictions

1. Haiku and short essays only

2. Essays up to 500 words and Free verse up to 5 stanzas.

3. Essays above 500 words and Free verse above 5 stanzas

4. Critical Essays, Short Fiction, Poetry, etc.

Pero nag-digress na naman ako. Isang hapon, pagkatapos nung BIR episode, dumaan ako sa tambayan namin sa UP. Nung makita ako ng mga kasama ko- "Jol! Pumayat ka a! Grabe!" hehehe.

Naalala ko yung jogging-jogging ko sa building, at yung stress, at napangiti ako. Isang mapait at matamis na ngiti. At kinuwento ko kung bakit.

ps: hanggang ngayon, wala pa akong TIN. Kuwento ni TJ, si Santi Bose raw, namatay nang walang TIN,. . . . . nakakatakot!

Random Thoughts

Feb 13, 2009

I can’t sleep. Funny, but this is one of those few times that I experience having such an ordeal. I’m a person who is the total envy of insomniacs, not to mention normal people. No trouble at all when it comes to that part of daily living. Just put something flat on my back, and I am dead to the world. In fact if sleep could kill (which it could, if you were a chronic alcoholic, or just plain too unlucky, he, he, he) I would have been gone a long time.

However, as much as I would like to, I know that even if I try to count sheep (which by the way would always work for me during restless times-which again I would hardly have any-in both having restless times and counting 10), I would still lay awake staring blanky at darkness not figuratively (this time) but literally because the lights are already off, hehehe. I am very well aware of the cause, but not very willing to share it even in writing, even to people I don’t know and don’t know me back (or should I say, don’t care at all). I have a pride you know, and I intend to keep it in one piece (as much as possible). Let’s just say, I am wondering, and considering of hurting somebody, back. I have a pride you know. Not sure though if it is still intact, on second thought.

And so I decided that instead of wallowing in my own misery, to get up, and do something productive (like earning money, online and offline, in this most unholy hour of the day, oh yes, it is very possible). But I contained myself and settled on something decent and respectable (like watching something biblical). No, (I am not that pretentious), but rather translate my thoughts into words, which at first I thought was not possible. Given that my situation is not inspiration but desperation.

After several minutes, of mulling over emptiness, i came up with randomness, which surprisingly the one which lulled me into sleep. But before I finally submit into unconsciousness, I pondered on one last conscious thought – to confront the person responsible. And deal with an emotion I have so tried to deny and renounce but have so far failed (well at least so far, which by the way, could not take me that far, hehehe, so might as well concede?). Not a chance. Now, that one, not sure If I deliberated on in my wakefulness or in my dreams. Now this, maybe just a product of my imagination. Oh how I wish..... Hehehehe.

Bakit Single Ka Pa?

January 02, 2009

O eto na serious contribution ko on this thread. hehehe.

The need to belong is one of the basic human needs. Just like air, food and sex. And yes, sex doesn’t go with love and security (at least according to Maslow, hehe). And yes, it belongs to the same level as the physiological needs. And, no, I’m not liberated. All I’m saying (with that statement) is if you want just sex...you don’t have to be married. Wahahahah! And no, I'm not very comfortable discussing that which follows.

Seriously though, our search for human affiliation stems not from social pressure but from human nature which is rather instinctual. Afterall it is the same desire for intimacy (and not just sex, since as humans, we associate procreation with love, otherwise the pregnancy gets aborted, hehe, hypocrisy aside) that brings new members of the species. It is the same yearning for closeness and bonding that results to a family and community structures as these new members get to be nurtured and supported.

However, we must also understand that the need for love and belongingness is satisfied not only by having a romantic relationship with the opposite sex, (or the same sex depending on your preference) or marital commitment with them. But also from friendship, social activities, religious affiliations, familial attachments, and yes ... even animal connections, not to mention extramarital affairs, hehe. And okay, even from cyberforums like PMT. And not with yourself (it’s a different thing, hehe, - narcissism na yan or I don’t know). Man tries to overcome feelings of loneliness and alienation. This would explain why there are single people who are as fulfilled as those who are wed. And not because they are simply rationalizing.

So you see, the goal of entering into a romantic relationship is to seek if this means would fulfil our need to belong. But of course you don’t declare that literally or aloud. Baka hiwalayan ka nun. Rather it is the unspoken sentiment. If you regard it as the only way to such an end thus it should and must work, then it will result to disappointment and yes, bitterness.

Understanding the hype that society puts in romantic love as part of marketing and a way to sell literally everything from condoms to movies, though, “being single” becomes a social and psychological issue. But actually it’s only a legal status. Afterall we can’t declare being “married” to our friends, or to our dogs and definitely not to our mistresses (or should I say “your”), can we?

Lastly:
As to the issue of marriage depending on your upbringing and the kind of society that you’re in, it then becomes an act that concurs with ones values, social norms and customs, not to mention legal issues. And that which needs to be respected, if you want the respect back.

Therapeutic Communication

The current financial crisis and many other issues that the United States is facing right now is bringing a lot of stress in the global market, not to mention in man of our countrymen's psyche. I'm not referring to myself because that's already given. But to my friend's.

Like many aspiriang Flipinos trying to look for a greener pasteur, she is bound to the land of the free, until, the market crashes. Uhhmm, wait, I think it's even before the collapase (hehe, I'm mixing things up lately, thanks to Pinoymoneytalk). Well, I really don't know the reason of the retrogression but I'm pretty sure it's as complicated as the charts right now.

But that is beside the point. Or not completely, because it is related. Given that I made that as an introduction. Hhhmmm...

Anyway as she succumbs to hopelessness, having waited for 2 years already for the immigrant visa, she tried to find solace in me. I mean, in somebody that is as in despair as her? How can she possibly get a good advice? Hahaha! Or at least a therapeutic response. Well, in the first place she has no idea of my current state of mind, as I've always maintained an air of hope, confidence, optimisim, intelligence and beauty. And she doesn't know that, too. So much for being friends. Besides, I don't think anybody can tell the difference, though.

As I try to come up with something to say, that would appear as caring as it is sound, not to mention, therapeutic, in a situation where the answer is as uncertain as the current market, I came up with several options.

"Everythung has its reasons"

"Maybe there is something better in store for you"

Making me realize fast, (as fast as I thought of them) that they're the exact same phrases I am trying to avoid. It's tantamoung to lying!

In the end, I ended up...dead. Hehe...I mean laughing. For my friend, it is mocking.

We didn't end up in a fight thoug, as much as I'd like to. Just close. As I'm quick in explaining the comic I've imagined. Though, she didn't share the laugh, and I felt a little guilty.

In the end I said, "I understand"

Realizing what could be more therapeutic than that

Ah, keep my mouuth shut.

A Matter of Perspective II

Nov 13, 2008

Sabi nga nila, the only time politicians tell the truth is when they call each other liars (Hehe, sorry, can’t think of a better analogy).

No, the answer to that is because investing/saving is a personal issue and responsibility. For any loss or gain, we are the only one accountable.

Rather hard (and pointless) if everybody agrees on something about money because there are always 2 sides to the coin. Not to mention, economics is the only field by which two people can share a nobel prize for saying opposing things. But of course, arguments need to be laid out properly. If inaptly put, see beyond the drama. There’s more to it (sana) trust me. We listen, and examine who is more sensible. But as is always the case, everybody will have a point. The decision is ours to make.

Don’t worry, if there’s something we are in total agreement, yun ang YUMAMAN!

A Matter of Perspective

Nov 10, 2008

When our ideas are put to the test, it is hard to be receptive . Moreso if it is our pride. And that is the truth.

With forums like this, we get to meet a lot of people who has different intentions, opinions, personalities, not to mention sense of humor. The problem is we only get to read the message. Believe it or not, it is easier to get the idea across in a conversation. I think because, the emoticon is not enough. Hehe. Or probably because in person, we can assault the other instead.

In as much as it is important to think what we’re going to post, it is equally imperative to consider how others would take it. If we have to think twice before posting, we also have to think as much (if not more) while reading others’ messages.

It’s hard you see, given the complexity of man, to decode each other’s persona, moreso in a forum where we are defined only by some of our thoughts. And I think you can’t fault some people on how they put up their message in as much as they can’t fault us in how we would respond.

The best thing would be to try our best to keep an open mind. Trust me, it takes a lot of effort. It’s hard to be opposed. But it’s harder to accept defeat. (and I admit my guilt, hehe)

Sabi nga nila, pag binato ka ng bato, batuhin mo ng tinapay. Easier said than done. Hehe. But then in forums, it would always boil down to the matter of perspective. Malay mo tinapay pala iyong binato.

Ironies

I am not sure if this is true for everybody. But I realized that as we transcend from the stage of innocence to that of maturity, there is that phase in between that we become cynical. Probably as we get to experience life and the real world, we get to see the contradictions behind our values and we begin to question the integrity of our convictions. It can even make you feel betrayed and connived on by your mentors in leading you to believe certain things about life, which you may find dubious, if not true. For example, these ironies between good and evil.

1. Why is it much harder to be good, moral and upright than to be evil, immoral and ruthless? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? What’s worse is, these bad people get to do it the easier way out and yet get to reap the rewards. And put it in a Swiss Bank. And get interest. In dollars (or in euros). For the long-term. Cost-averaged!

2. We often tell, or convince ourselves and others, that goodness will always be rewarded if not on earth, in heaven. Why can’t heaven be on earth but hell can? Why can’t our righteousness be compensated while we are still alive? So that we will be motivated to do more even good deeds. And end up in the heavens for certain (not to mention live life in merit)? And not kidnapped, vanished or eliminated.

3. Is it just me, or is it just in the movies, or is it but reality that evil always win over good initially (and for a much longer time). The latter prevailing eventually in the end after one or more (if not all) of the protagonist dies, or after 2 or 3 despicable generations, not to mention after 2 hours in a 2-hour movie. And then (in real life) when the time of retribution comes, they’ll wound up having so much money to pay a good liar or buy justice, or clemency or a dialysis machine (not to mention an organ) sparing them of punishment partially (if not totally). Which is still great, of course – I mean, that good would end up winning (and hypocrisy aside, the ability to procure everything literally). But why can’t uprightness triumph over wicknedness even from the start? So that again, man can be inspired to uphold what is right from the beginning.

4. Finally, again, is it just an adage, my observation or an actuality that really, (tsk,tsk)- “matagal mamatay ang masamang damo”. After some massive stroke (ex-senator), a bad knee (ex-pres), or a deceased set of kidneys (current doj sec), they still manage to recover (OMG!). Others in fact, have remained quite well for ages (ex-comelec) while their divine counterparts are dying relatively younger (edsa figure, ex-presidentiable, national hero). Probably because the former just happens to have healthy genes. This being maybe just a coincidence. Or perhaps being righteous really is much more stressful than being crooked. You tell me.

But as we mature, we begin to reconcile the paradox, come up with acceptable answers and realize that our gurus were right (well, at least most of the time).

But as for me, the above incongruities, I have not completely resolved.

Probably because sarcasm denies reason. Or maybe it sees beyond what is believed as reasonable.

If you can help enlighten me, please do so. I don’t want to be in the dark. At least, not for long. He, he.

On Reproductive Health Bill/ Family Planning

It was the 25th of Dec, 2006, when a newly delivered infant showed up in the front door of the emergency room where I was working.

Like that of the original one, this baby was delivered in a non-traditional place because no hospital would accept them. But that’s the only similarity.

Unlike it, that birth was in broad daylight. There was the sun shining in all its glory. No northstar nearby. (but I’m pretty sure, it’s there, just that, it was overshadowed by the nearer sun)

This one was in no Bethlehem, but a birth inside a taxicab! The good thing though is that, it was in a Toyota Avanza. More space was allocated to the family (the parents and two of their kids) to have this moment at the back of the car.

Having played a role (with me as one of the 3 kings... or queen, and the other staff as sheperds) in what appeared to be a re-enactment of the birth of our Lord in the 21st century should have felt as a privilege.

But during this time, it’s more of a stress or a distress.

Not because this wasn’t Jesus himself (nor because t’was just an ordinary infant). But for the reason that this was born not of a virgin! Oh NO! ( And YES, that’s the reason! )

Rather, It was from a woman who had previously delivered to 8 term babies, with this birth, as her 9th! At the age of 32!

But this scenario is not unusual. In fact, if we’ll consider birth in a non-traditional place and the denial of admission as criteria to label such occurrence as Christmas, then, in the Philippines, everyday is one.

Having so many children is actually not the issue. But the fact that a family with entirely no means to support even a small one could afford to have a bigger one. Describing this family, physically is upsetting, thus it suffices to say, that they obviously lives in penury.

In a not so progressive country like the Philippines, population growth becomes both the effect and contributor (if not entirely the cause) of poverty. In a world, wherein money becomes the tool of trade, living in scarcity strips man of a lot of opportunities. Without education, he fails to realize why planning the size of the family is important (and how he could carry out such) aside from, per se, not having a decent job. The rarity of work prospects (if not the total lack of it) then gives him generous amount of time, ironically, to spend in nothingness. That, (plus the smallness of the living area not to mention the paucity of a blanket) literally, makes him yield to his instinct. To procreate, that is. In the end, the numerous mouths to feed coupled with the lack of resources leads to a vicious cycle of poverty. Not to mention, irresponsibility.

It is clear then, that though, overpopulation may not be the original cause of our destitution, it largely contributes to it. Thus it follows, that managing the size of a family, cuts its financial needs, in the end reducing the impact of poverty in our society.

Thus it is not surprising why some of our fellowmen and legislators alike advocate the use of artificial means of family planning (like the use of OCPs, condoms, etc which are given for free). In fact, they are now studying and trying to pass a bill about reproductive health which promotes the distribution of such artificial tools of reproduction. The natural method is besides, (and ironically) more complex and less successful than its artificial equivalents. For somebody who hasn’t been properly schooled, moreso, in dire need of money, spending some 14 days (or more) of a month would be translated to a waste of time rather than an assistance, in which they are less than willing (or not at all) to participate in.

However, one of the hurdles of the use of these artificial means is the institution that advocates life itself, the church. I am catholic myself, and in total support of its dogmas and teaching. However, in this issue, I am not an ally.

Working as a healthcare personnel enabled me to deal with the richest and sadly, the poorest of the poor (but in our country, more of the latter.) There are countless occasions and demonstrations of how instructions about well being (that would include family planning and, yes, life’s lessons) would always seem futile. Every year, you would get to meet the same pregnant women, in the same living condition (if not worse). That, teaching them the use of OCPs, and condoms, would appear as a desperate alternative, and a much easier solution to the problem. Besides, it’s understandable that their quest for food should come first than worrying when their next ovulation will be. A hungry mind wouldn’t care about anything but bread, anyway.

Finally, yes, as believers of Christ, we are taught to support life, advocate procreation. But then again, like many of what’s written in the Bible, this shouldn’t be interpreted literally as to mean existence. It is not just being physically present, nor just have the chance to experience life’s difficulties, only because we lack the means to feel its pleasures because we are poor. But it should be life with quality, with worth, with value. Though money is not the only mean to reach this, we have to accept that it is an invaluable tool in achieving this end.

And also, preventing conception is different from abortion because, in the latter, one kills life that is already created.

For a conservative Catholic like myself, I feel guilty to think that I support something that is totally opposed by my faith. It is understandable though, that the church would always uphold what’s most right and ideal. I don’t know if such is considered a sin, but I’d rather commit one than stand to see more lives left unnurtured.

As to what happened to the family above, they were sent home, without shedding a penny. Besides, as much as we’d hoped to, there isn’t anything to give anyway. Well, it’s Christmas, and the free service (which came with a free reprimand by the way), is anything but less than enough gift for a newborn we named Emmanuel.

Assuming the sick role as a child

I actually have no idea as to what “being sick” should really mean for an ordinary child. For one, back then, that was the least (if not, NONE) of our concerns (especially, now that we are already grown up) But my memories, now I find amusing and which gets me wondering. Well, if we take me, as ordinary and normal, “being ill” meant:

1. Being excused from going to school, skipping scheduled exams, yet getting a special quiz for the same topic-for which I would have longer time to study than my classmates have had the chance of, and then get higher grades, hehehe.

2. More time for playing “Chinese garter”. I would tie the ends of a long string of intertwined rubbers in any available posts – from our sofa to our door, to a hook that anchored my baby picture. Even if I have to hammer down a nail in the wall and ruin its paint, as long as I could hang it! I was very good at this game by the way, having acted always as the leader (with some of my members actually taller than me) whenever we would have this game in school (which would be everyday). I'd wait for my mother to take off for work, before playing, then would hurriedly “tidy up” all “evidence” before tucking up myself in bed and finally putting a damp cloth in my forehead (really!). By that time, my temperature would have temporariy gone down (out of perspiration) before going up again in the evening (out of dehydration).

3. A justification for gnawing Aspilets one after the other! I have an addiction for this as back in the old days (they were once made up of Aspirin – the same one that’s being used for heart problems), they'd taste like candies. Unlike the new ones, which now has a bitter taste.

4. Getting “pasalubong” - a slice of leche flan (yummy!) and a royal true orange.

5. Receiving a sponge bath. Whenever I'd become ill, my mother would render me a procedure, that I remembered more as a ritual, which I really dreaded but which was inevitable at that time. This actually would form the highlight of the sickrole. Usually on the night of the second day (which is the height of fever), my mother would prepare a concoction – a mixture of slightly cooled boiled water (note slightly) and alcohol – which she'd sponge bathe my body with. Because this infusion is really hotter than lukewarm (enough to give me first degree burn actually, had the moistened towel stayed in my skin much longer), I would cry during the whole process (yes, out of pain!). But the hottest part (literally) would be when she'd soak both my feet in a basin full of a newly prepared mixture (of the same temperature, but to the sole of my feet – which is more scientifically sensitive than skin – scorchingly hot!) for several minutes! At this time, I would lay quiet but not out of relief, rather out of exhaustion. By the time, we are finished, my fever would be down several degrees (just imagine the tremendous amount of sweat my body has shed out), but to my mother, it would be yet another demonstration of the effectivity of her formula.

This was how I defined being sick as a child. That is again, if we take "me" as ordinary and normal. Hehehe.

Good Hair Days

I was born with thick, unruly hair. The type that would get constant interest from concernd friends and citizens alike. The former would always prod me into getting a relax, rebond, or hair spa. The latter sees me as a potential consumer for the aforementioned services and hair products. But I have remained unyielding, steadfast, and unwavered to my resolve into maintaining my hair as it is - long, neither straight nor curly, and full. Not because I want to make a statement but because honestly I don’t find it disturbing at all. While I would like to be considerate for onlookers who may find it unsettling (could it really be that bad?), I’d like everybody to just mind their own hair business. Certainly, my hair has created some near-sensational incidents, that have made me laughed and be laughed about. That, when I had it cut (in a renowned salon) and styled (accidentally)one day, I got an uproar.

I have always maintained my hair long, halfway my shoulder and hips. It had no style in my early years. Back in grades school up to high school, it was my cousin or my mother who would cut it. And whenever they would, they’d always remark that I got a thick hair – usually with an exasperated sound – which back then I woul take non-chalantly. (By the way, my mother and father have both curly locks, and I’m not adopted.)

I have to move to Manila to continue college. This time, I'd have my hair chopped by a hairdresser. Partly because of puberty (I was a late bloomer, and so I believed) and partly because of a tight budget (I have to get the most from my money), I became aware of haircutting and what transpires during this process. Because I’ve always maintained it long, I would go every 2 months or more, to a salon – sometimes in an expensive, sometimes in a cheap one, depending on budget. I would always give them the same instruction, cut one-inch off, put some layers – initially because I have no regard with hairstyles (I only want to maintain a presentable look- at least according to my perspective). But later on, because I don’t want to exhaust them (or I would be obliged by conscience to give an additional payment). Time and time again, gays and women alike (i don’t maintain a personal hairdresser in any salon) would comment on the same thing – my thick hair – along with the same exasperated sound that my cousin’s and mother’s used to give. The constant criticism has gone into my nerves that it came to a point, when, going to a salon became almost an ordeal. Me, cutting off some visits. Then came bargaining – I would decline a shower or mostly post-cut blow-drying. Then finally acceptance – I would affirm the comment while maintaining an air of impassivity (grabbing some magazines, and succumbing myself in reading about gossips of other people – I love to do this!)

One day, while window-shopping in a mall, I decided have it cut. Because I’m already inside an establishment, and mostly because I already have some money to spare (I’m now working) I decided to go to a renowned place, commanding some 200pHp/cut. Because this one is expensive, I decided not to pass on any pre or post cut services like the shower and blow-dry (besides I thought they would not dare complain, given that this is a recognized company). I was summoned by a young gay which I figured my hairdresser. This time, (believe it or not) aside from indifference to the current trends, I wanted something that is more or less wash and wear (I have a busy schedule, and I could care less with the way I look – I already got a boyfriend). Given that my hair is long and thick, I thought it was music to the ears of the one who will blow-dry it (who turned out to be the same hairdresser). And so taking my hair with one grip, he chopped it just above the shoulders. Gave it layers. Then dried it out. However to his surprise (and for a split second, mine, too) the style didn’t turn out to be one that he expected. I looked like a lion (with a shorter mane than a regular one)!!! I tried to imagine what it would have looked like had it not been of the fullness of my hair. I felt poor for the guy ...or gay. And so he chopped here and there several times. Until finally, I told him that I’m okay with the hair. Even faking satisfaction with a smile..or grin (though I still looked like a lion, now with very short mane). I even gave him a big tip (bigger than I used to give), for his effort, but more, to regain his confidence. Then I headed straight to a store to buy a headband (which is the only thing that would tame the mess). And by a struck of luck, the overall look turned out to be one of my best hairstyles ever! I got complimented by the security guard of the hospital (who mistook me for a student), my coresidents (one even confused the change to my black headband, perfectly blending and disappearing in the darkness of my hair - how could he see it?), the staff (who thought of me as a new resident) up to the canteen personnel (whom I barely knew, mistaking me also for a younger staff).

Before, I got no idea how the hair could be one’s crowning glory. I thought, it’s just an outgrowth of the head, why give it such importance? Now, I know better. But what happened, still didn’t change my resolve. In fact, I’m letting it grow back to the length that it used to be (since, I’m having headaches from the constant use of the headband, too). Sooner or later, I will have the same, long, and unruly mane. But what the heck, one imperfection couldn’t hurt that much, could it?

By the way, I may fail to maintain my anonymity, because my friends know me for my hair, they had fun with these stories. Unless of course, Simba has learned to write.

The Mathematics of Choosing the Right Career

Have you always thought that you had the wrong profession? That if you probably pushed through with your first, or perhaps second or third career choice, you would have, by now, your own house, or mansion, your own car or cars, and maybe managing your own company or...productions. You see there are endless possibilities. Numerous permutations that you can probably solve using a formula if you knew the exact numbers of variables – like the number of professions you would have considered and the number of your dreams/ambitions. Such will lead us to the realization, that the chances of us getting our expectations right is actually inversely proportional to the number of careers we have in mind! Which will make us realize in the end, that indeed it is not choosing the perfect career, but how we utilize what we have become to get what we want is the real deal.

If you are to ask some of your friends whether they are satisfied with their career, you are likely to get a positive response from those who are doing well financially and professionally, and a negative one from those who are not. This observation is rather an expected outcome, so much so, that it may pass as a theory but not quite a law. The reason is that there is another way of putting it logically. That is supposedly if you have the right career, then you should be getting quite a sum of money and an exponential growth in this chosen field. That, it is equally logical (if not more )that, getting your own car, your own house, or maybe your own talk show should be a product of the right profession. And not its difference.

However, partly because of an instinctive desire to spare our ego of the blame (which is justifiable) and partly to search for an easy way out of what we perceive as soon to be a “mess”, we account our profession as an inexact means to our ends. We fail to realize, that it is actually the loss of focus that has eluded us from our goals. As they say, the road to success is not always smooth. Rather it is more often than not rough. Thus, the momet we stumble, giving up, choosing another direction (then realizing eventually that this one is as rocky as the first one) may not be the best option.

Because of the complexities of life, the many variables to consider, we may be led to consider different solutions. And yet there is only one formula for victory in which finding the right career is not a constant . Rather, it is seeing a goal and aiming for it unswervingly, no matter what profession we are in, that will lead us to a 100% probability of suceeding.

Gaano Kaimportant ang Diploma?

Oct 12, 2007

As cliché as it may sound, it is as true as it can get. KNOWLEDGE IS POWER. I don’t think anybody will argue on that. In our ancestors effort to prevent chaos, they tried organizing everything, from governance to the body of knowledge. Thus they came up with education. And the diploma is the proof that somebody gets it formally.

Now, let’s analyze the question, “Gaano kaimportante ang diploma?” If this is going to be taken figuratively (that is what the diploma represents), then inarguably IT IS IMPORTANT. Again, it’s because education is simply a system of knowledge. Although it’s perseverance and hardwork that are more important in achieving success, education will make it easier and possible the impossible. In fact, it is the latter that enabled us to make it this far. (Otherwise, baka nasa kweba pa rin tayo).hihi

For those who were able to make it without a diploma, let us not forget the component of luck. Besides they are only a few compared to those who succeeded because of education.

I, too came to think that getting a diploma doesn’t guarantee success. Sabi ko pa nga, iyan ang ituturo ko sa anak ko. But I realized soon (thank god!), that the role of education can’t be downplayed, something that we can’t do without, something VERY NECESSARY. It’s just that some people (including me) blames it on education in general the mistake they make in choosing the wrong carreer. Watchuthink?

Taken literally, you need that piece of paper as proof. Again to prevent chaos.I remember asking my mother why I have to go to school when I can study on my own at home. I remember her telling, “Kasi sa school mo lang makukuha ang diploma, at yun ang pruweba na you have learned what you are supposed to know and know how much you are supposed to learn”:D