Scared of the Rain

The rains in the metro have been causing more than floods, since it has also greatly disrupted traffic. The other day, Tuesday, so many people got stuck on the road for hours. And at home, the power was out. This deadly combination got me thinking about little kids going to and from school. I know that in many ways, those who were able to post their concerns by social media are the workers who have to suffer through a long day and then a long night of rain and traffic. But just imagine the kids!
When I was growing up in Baguio, I remember the typhoon and monsoon seasons with its strong rains, power outages and the cold. When we were home and cancellations were announced early, we enjoyed soup, a warm mug of Milo, and extra sleep. But typhoon season meant we had to go to school extra early so we could avoid the rains. We huddled up to the radio at around 4:00 to listen to AM news where the updates were announced. If by 5:00, there were not cancellations, we waited for the first jeepney out to go to school. My siblings and I usually arrive at school at 5:45 in the morning. So there were times when the cancellations would come by 6:30, and we had to walk back to the jeepney station 30 minutes away. We would be home by 7:30 AM.
Rains could be very strong, so once we reached home we had to empty our bags and air dry our books, notebooks, shoes and clothes. As Baguio people, we did not have electric fans because of the cold weather, so air drying took all day and night. At times we had to hang up some of our stuff at the back of the refrigerator, where the air was warm.
The season meant other chores too. Before the warm, cozy perks of the rainy day, we had to make sure of some things around the house. One, the water drums in the back yard were to be opened to catch rain water. Two, the windows and doors of the house were to be shut reinforced with rags. Three, new leaks and drips were to be cleaned, dried, plugged and logged for repair. Four, candles, emergency lamps and food were brought out for quick access. After all this, we would enjoy TV if there was power, catch up on some random art projects, or stay out in the rain for games.
Nowadays, I am less fond of the rainy weather, because things have become more than just being ready with a few extra chores. I think, as a rule, the season has become more threatening, because things tend to turn worse, compounded with factors that people can supposedly regulate and be more disciplined about. I wonder how much more metro-dwellers can take, though.
Earlier today, I told a housemate of mine, that we should go home to the provinces, because the rains were becoming scarier, with the power outages and floods. He said that back home, power outages were common, he was used to them, and that hopefully people would invest on better infrastructure for energy. And I just responded that our islands had a myriad of concerns, and how colorful it is to be Filipino. To another housemate, who was worried about getting home through another Rain+Traffic combo, I said #WowPhilippines #Sarcasm. And then, again, I thought about kids, getting through the terrible weather, wondering what defense mechanisms they would develop growing up in such times as these.

posted from Bloggeroid

28th Year

For the past years, every date of my birthday, I always think about the year before and all that had happened. I also reflect on what my mother had been doing at the same age. My mother was young when she had me. I was 6 when she was my age at 28. How different things have turned out for me. I am unmarried, but committed to a relationship with Poy.
I have chosen to pursue further studies and find a job with modest pay. I am still supported by Mama, with a monthly allowance, which I save in the bank. I think that my life is much slower than hers was as a 28-year old. She was a young instructor at the university, and I was a wide-eyed kindergarten student. This year, many people hope that I finish my graduate school thesis.
I can, but will I? I should. I could. I must. I will.

Memories from the Afternoon Music

Because there are a lot of people all the time in the local coffee house favorites, i chose to visit the nearby crepe cafe near our house for an afternoon of studying and casual reading. I was listening to an audio book after having put it aside for later reading, but now and again, I would stop and listen to the music played in the background. The afternoon's playlist is a Beatles album.
The Beatles are one of the bands Mama listened to, and one of the first CDs she bought in the late 90s. When many of my age were solely fans of current day bands, I listened to the Beatles because it was Mama's music, and I really like listening to things.
On the summer I had first listened to the Beatles hits, Mama had a portable CD player (like a Walkman, but it played CDs) which I would play out through the night. It had rechargeable batteries which I would charge up every afternoon.
I had probably first acquired such a habit of listening to something to lull me to sleep because I had such anxious evening thoughts. Later I grew into a habit of falling asleep to movies, setting the TV to sleep after some hours. Of late, I have been wanting to get rid of this habit of playing a movie/TV series on the background since it is sometimes counterintuitive to the goal of falling asleep, not only for me, but also to roommates. I find it harder though, to shake off listening to something to fall asleep.

posted from Bloggeroid

Translated Awkwardness

Social interactions seem very tricky to me. I find it harder these days to respond to the customary "kumusta?" But then again, perhaps it had always been quite hard for me. A wall erects within my mind, composed of 10 statements on the matter, all at once. Which one would I be best able to elucidate? Is it merely the fact that I don't have a ready answer to such a question? Perhaps. But it also may be because I lack a level of social graces that keep me afloat and keep me honest at the same time. Social interactions are a charade, to some extent. They keep things pleasant and organized between people but they sometimes become a sham, with no honesty. I don't prefer my state, where I leave a conversation hanging often for longer than I would like, but I can say I have no filters when it comes to such things. Conversations with me end the way they do because I have nothing more to say, and I can think of nothing appropriate to gently ease out of the interaction. How painful it is to be aware of this fact and then come back later in thought for something that would have been better to say or do.

posted from Bloggeroid

Changes on Being Judgmental

I listened to Bach played on acoustic guitars recently. It is by no means pop. I find I know much less of current pop artists than I do a few pieces of classical music. I have listened less and less to music over the years, not by choice really. It just kind if happened.
I do feel more connected to 80s, 90s and 00s music, singing words I used to know from the times I listened to the radio. I can relate to TV teenagers who would be fascinated with the guy who brooded and played the guitar for the band. I realize that there are much more interesting things to talk about with other people than the guitar-playing type.
I'm not so sure why, and how come, but I have started to become cynical about some things I used to prefer as a teenager. To be fair, they were passing fancies. Before the cellular phone selfie, I practiced using my digicam for taking selfies. I also used to enjoy just amassing random photos of the day. My digicam would sometimes have up to 500 photos for a single day, when I would document an event for my student organization. I managed my personal computer space very tightly because of that. My computer always had an empty desktop, with all the files sorted into cascades of folders, with designated categories, making sure everything was in place. My computer also had an impressive variety of songs, with whole albums, more or less downloaded from the then unchecked and unregulated sources. I streamed a few movies and some TV series, or otherwise copied files from other friends. These were a matter of course then.
These days, I have spent less time on the photographs I would take, insisting on my anonymity wherever I was. I now have a messier "Pseudo-desktop" folder, for the clutter of files I am working on in my computer (I still enjoy a clean desktop). I have transferred my old photos, music, movies and series files on external hard drives. I have felt no need to open most of them in the past 5 years. Somehow, because of the changes I have made, I feel judgmental towards other people who keep the old things in their life, or are amassing such things. I did enjoy all those things as a younger person. Simply, I no longer do.
I guess what I do want to change is my attitude of being judgmental. Just because they were things I used to enjoy but no longer do, it does not mean I have to thing less of those who currently do. Perhaps these things have their own season, and that I have only to sort, re-sort, keep some then discard some things.

posted from Bloggeroid

Thinking about time makes me panic

I can be very neat, and I can also be very awkward, but there are times that I can really get over that. The worst of my waking nightmares is starting the day late. I like to start early with work, because I like to fuss over method. I have a nickname, used primarily by Poy, "Turtle."
Like the turtle, time is very very precious to me. The only way I know to do my work best is step by step. I carry everything I need and might need when I work.
This week, the church I work with celebrated 39 years as a registered organization, and for the past 6 years, I have been working as the secretary. I grew into my job, and I have learned that my work style really requires me to be early. I have a habit of setting up a work station, where everything I might need is within sight and reach. I do not work fast, but I like working like an assembly line.
During the anniversary service last week, I came in 2.5 hours before the start of the service to set up technicals. A significant amount of time I spent cleaning, and a bit of time I spent delegating tasks to some helpful early birds. We finished set up after 2 hours, and the 0.5 hours I just used to calm down. At the end the packing up took 2 guys 0.5 hours to store all the equipment.
I enjoy working down a to-do list, not so appreciative of the success to the deadline, but more that I have done the task well. I do mind the time when I work, but I just feel panic with that element. I live with it, and I understand why it is important. It's like cooking a stew. It's nice when you have all day to prepare, but you still have to eat something by dinner.

posted from Bloggeroid

Occasional Teaching

When I can, I definitely enjoy teaching/facilitating discussion. I appreciated the method used by elementary school teachers where I studied, where they would use charts and colored paper with all the important words and concepts to take note.
I have always been an outliner... if that's a thing. I favored enumeration and sorting concepts of the same kind. Mind-mapping, linear relationships and squiggles between concepts have never been daunting.
This weekend, I am engaging in a first: facilitating book study for my church youth group. It's been a while since my last book report, and I consider this a re-training for facilitating a workshop with the use of a guide, which will be an activity I should look forward to in the next few months. I have been part of a book study group in the past, but never as a facilitator. Presuming that all the participants read the book, my job would be easy; but treading the difference between those who have accomplished this and those who have not will make my challenge more daunting.

posted from Bloggeroid

Waking up early used to be a thing for me

... or was it? I mean, I could wake up early when I prepare for it the night before, but to think of it, I really have a mixed up version of protest and nonchalance to waking up early since I was young.
Growing up it was just a matter of course, until the summer. Or until there was an adult who would goad me into being the best kid ever for always waking up early after sleeping early the night before.
Now, I find that I have to wake up earlier again because so much needs to be done. It seems like a good idea nowadays. Coming up in the next few posts, perhaps reflections about what in this world am I doing.

posted from Bloggeroid

Black Coffee

I imagined that more people drank black coffee. I cannot recall the last person who drank their coffee black, there would always be some cream and sugar. I must say that I am a low level addict. I enjoy a cup of coffee once every few days. I do try not to drink of it everyday, since I started getting headaches without the stuff. The pure cup of brewed coffee has a taste that I enjoy, by itself, but to be honest, I guess the habit came a few years ago when I got a boyfriend who likes his coffee with a lot of milk and sugar. He would get a cup of coffee and ask to split it in two. He would put in a liberal amount of sugar, as well as a half cup of milk. At the beginning, I was probably just resigned to giving up my milk and sugar packets. I have since thought that its acidity and bitterness suit a specific part of my appetite.
In a more pretentious discussion, black coffee just gave me a feeling that I had somehow grown up. Growing up, the coffee powder had a special place in the beverage shelf. My mother never kept it in the house, but my grandfather and uncle who lived in the same compound had a small jar of instant coffee set aside on the dining table. They would fill the small jar at about the same time every month, on a Saturday, after the market run in the morning, just in time for the afternoon coffee. When I was young and not allowed to drink coffee yet, I had a fascination with the way my grandfather would stir the coffee back and forth instead of around. The swirls of tiny bubbles were a peculiar sight to a child. And since then I thought that was the way coffee ought to be stirred.
Of course, now I know coffee is enjoyed differently from person to person. Sugar, cream, milk, foam, syrup, ice -- every variation has a different effect. People can have very specific preferences when it comes to coffee, and every person just likes his/her coffee just the way he/she likes it.

posted from Bloggeroid

First. That time I restarted.

Some time ago I kept a blog, but I shut it down. I downloaded the old files, but I will not be putting those up anytime soon. The thing is, I have often been insecure about my writing capabilities for a long time. The other thing is that I am sometimes horribly self-critical.

A day at a time is meant to be an opportunity for new grace. A day at a time to reflect on blessings instead of hollow regrets. I am of course aware that this is quite a public place to write about reflections. Very deliberate ones. But that's how I have always been able to write. My journal takes a little less these days, and I can't bring it anywhere all the time. At least an entry can be drafted through the phone.

Today, I was going over my references for a paper I am writing. I am stuck. I have read so much, I am unsure which people said what. I am just going to have to read my article again and check concepts, then match the facts with the references. I haven't done this in a while, but let's go (and by "this" I mean writing a paper, and perhaps a little bit the blogging thing, too).