tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65006106981346992442024-03-05T20:54:28.362+08:00The Obiter MasterA single Catholic lawyer who prefers to look at the obiter dicta in life.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.comBlogger163125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-58419528203271757402010-04-15T18:22:00.004+08:002010-04-15T18:25:09.537+08:00Who Moved My Blog?I did. I grew tired of this template and wanted to try Wordpress.<br /><br />Please visit me at <a href="http://obitermaster.wordpress.com">http://obitermaster.wordpress.com</a>.<br /><br />I will maintain Lessons on Waiting at <a href="http://www.elladelrosario.blogspot.com">http://www.elladelrosario.blogspot.com.<br /></a><br />See you around!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-76641685598667271852010-04-15T17:03:00.002+08:002010-04-15T17:47:21.661+08:00Terrible HeatI promised myself I will minimize complaints, especially about things I cannot control. Like the weather. But the extreme heat of summer 2010 is getting to me.<br /><br />I get constant migraines. I don't like moving from air-conditioned to non-air-conditioned rooms as it makes me dizzy. I am constantly thirsty, especially upon waking up in the morning. Perhaps I'm also coming down with the flu so I have been generally feeling a bit under the weather this week. I try to drink several liters of water a day just to make it through.<br /><br />I am not ignoring the sun's benefits, especially since I love to do the laundry and clothes line-dry quickly in summer. I just hope that we get some rain soon, and not in Ondoy proportions, please. There is such a thing as too much sunshine. <br /><br />So this is not a complaint. Just a statement. I'll do the (pro) rain dance if needed.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-82307210471648130082010-04-10T20:11:00.002+08:002010-04-10T20:15:42.919+08:00The Unreachable StarA <a href="http://www.palancaawards.com.ph/">Palanca award</a> is like an Oscar to the Filipino writer - it sticks to the winner's name. It announces to writers' circles that this particular writer has arrived. It opens doors to great projects and probably even leads to a book or a movie in the future. <div><br /></div><div>Probably, the only <a href="http://www.palancaawards.com.ph/">Palanca</a> I'll ever receive in my lifetime is the Palanca letter from my mother, which I got when I attended the Days with the Lord retreat while in law school. Every year, I download the <a href="http://www.palancaawards.com.ph/RULES%20AND%20FORMS.php">c</a>ontest rules, toy with the idea of joining, and then decide not to. It's <a href="http://www.palancaawards.com.ph/history.php">Palanca season</a> once again and I actually could have found the time to write, except I have not been in the right mood to do so for the past decade.<div><br /></div><div>Perhaps I have made this writer's block get in the way, and have not found enough ways to be in touch with my creative side. My writer-friends say that they submit entries to the <a href="http://www.palancaawards.com.ph/">Palancas</a> even if they don't win, as it is good exercise to prepare and polish one or several pieces of writing. I wish them all the best.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am too lazy, uninspired, and scared to take the plunge. Until then I will remain unknown and unskilled, happy to keep my blogs and journals, and safe from the threat of failure.</div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-75275024587365778512010-04-10T17:44:00.004+08:002010-04-10T18:09:58.266+08:00Growing Older and TechierOver breakfast, my mother asked me to create for her a <a href="http://www.facebook.com">Facebook</a> account. Then, she suggested that I get my father on <a href="http://www.twitter.com">Twitter</a>, to which he replied that he would much rather setup a <a href="http://wordpress.com">blog</a>.<div><br /></div><div>I drank my fresh hazelnut-flavored coffee from Baguio and when the caffeein kicked in, I got to work on their requests. Although they are already senior citizens, my parents have been able to use AIM, Yahoo, Skype, Magic Jack, and Google gradually over the years, to keep in touch with my siblings who are scattered all over the globe. My mom can access her bank accounts online, Papa reads his newspapers from the computer, buying only the Sunday issues, and together they watch their grandchildren on YouTube .</div><div><br /></div><div>Before we got to the new account creations however, they asked me to give them a more detailed tutorial on how to maximize their Presario. I taught them about browsers, URLs, search engines, and websites. They actually had a lot of questions and it was fun. I had more tech-savvy siblings but I was the one they lived with so they didn't know what they were missing. </div><div><br /></div><div>I showed them, like I did my legal research students, how to use keywords for more accurate results. My father's name is unique so we found only one website on Yahoo that had his full name - and it led to the Acknowledgment page of <a href="http://www.lib.ncsu.edu/etd/public/etd-4355153099853020/etd.pdf">my brother's dissertation</a> from NCSU. My parents were so delighted.</div><div><br /></div><div>We were in the middle of reading my <a href="http://www.linkedin.com">LinkedIn</a> profile, which was the first search result when we typed in my name, when said brother suddenly invited us to a Voice Call through <a href="http://skype.com">Skype</a>. The tutorial was put on hold. My parents said we'll continue next week.</div><div><br /></div><div>They leave next month for an extended trip to Sydney, to take care of my niece once my sister goes back to work. They want to watch TFC online and get in touch with their classmates, relatives, and friends via email and Facebook. I know of parents teaching their kids how to use the Internet responsibly. I am happy and proud to be a daughter teaching her parents how to leave their comfort zone and befriend their new laptop. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-81543733412745752512010-03-22T22:21:00.002+08:002010-03-22T22:23:59.332+08:00Luigi - Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2While my nephew was performing, some of his family in the audience, including myself, were brought to tears. He's only 12. He's amazing.<br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; "><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/X_nfOdVY9gU&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/X_nfOdVY9gU&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></span></div><br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bc3bELCxoXA&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bc3bELCxoXA&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-90421556364028175582010-03-22T15:29:00.003+08:002010-03-22T22:20:57.692+08:00Miko's CzardasHighlight of my day: watching my nephew Miko Q. del Rosario play <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Mbqvrp6kxg">Czardas</a>.<br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; "><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8Mbqvrp6kxg&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8Mbqvrp6kxg&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object></span><br /><div>He's only 10, by the way.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-41711752932322728832010-03-09T13:01:00.003+08:002010-03-09T13:05:27.049+08:00Escapade!Last year was my <span style="font-style: italic;">shlumpadinka</span> year. This year, although slightly improved, is turning into a long rant, so to avoid any more negativity, I will try to think of positive things. Like an escapade. Singing this now:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Escapade</span><br />Songwriters: Lewis, Terry;Jackson, Janet;Harris, James<br /><br /><br />As I was walkin' by saw you standin' there with a smile<br /><br />Lookin' shy you caught my eye<br /><br />Thought you'd want to hang for a while<br /><br /><br /><br />Well I'd like to be with you and you know it's Friday too<br /><br />I hope you can find the time this weekend to relax and unwind<br /><br /><br /><br />My mind's tired I've worked so hard all week<br /><br />Cashed my check I'm ready to go<br /><br />I promise you I'll show you such a good time<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Chorus</span>:<br /><br />Come on baby let's get away<br /><br />Let's save your troubles for another day<br /><br />Come go with me we've got it made<br /><br />Let me take you on an escapade (let's go)<br /><br /><br /><br />Es-ca-pade we'll have a good time<br /><br />Es-ca-pade leave your worries behind<br /><br />Es-ca-pade you can be mine<br /><br />Es-ca-pade an escapade<br /><br /><br /><br />So don't hold back just have a good time<br /><br />We'll make the rules up as we go along<br /><br />And break them all if we're not havin' fun<br /><br /><br /><br />Repeat Chorus<br /><br /><br /><br />My mind's tired I've worked so hard all<br /><br />Worked so hard all week<br /><br />I just got paid, we've got it made ready to go<br /><br />I promise you I'll show you such a good time<br /><br /><br /><br />Repeat Chorus<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Don't take the lyrics seriously. I don't plan to break any rules. I seldom do.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-87582266608605933462010-03-05T13:55:00.004+08:002010-03-05T14:04:55.883+08:00New RantsMaybe this is due to the unbearable heat. Maybe it's the series of difficult events that have happened to my friends and me. I just felt like posting two questions that have been bothering me for sometime now:<br /><br />1. <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Why does Road Watch and all other traffic updates on the radio broadcast live with that irritating beat in the background? </span> The traffic announcers sound nasal and scratchy - think A.M. mono effect - and given that unnecessary background music slash noise, who can understand what they're saying? A motorist stuck in traffic, tired from work, late for work, or out of patience? The announcers also mouth their updates at the speed of light, and seldom do I catch what I need to her when I need to hear it. <br /><br />2. <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Why do Shell gasoline attendants ask me if I want full tank V-power even before I can speak? Is it because of my old Velocity sticker? </span></span>Or is this SOP? It irritates me when I'm rushing and just need a quick pit stop and there they are, offering me a product I cannot afford. <br /><br />I try not to be masungit anymore. I am grateful for many good things. I just needed to vent.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-83586129487857500762010-02-14T08:44:00.004+08:002010-02-14T09:12:04.663+08:00Self-Diagnosis: An Exercise in FutilityLast week, I took an online test to determine if I had autism. I really did. I learned from someone with Asperger's Syndrome that such a test was available online, and had always wondered if I had A.S. or something similar. As if it would explain everything that was wrong with me.<div><br /></div><div>My friends in the know would probably laugh this off as another one of my silly ideas. But hey, last Thursday, I had reason to believe that I might be autistic. </div><div><br /></div><div>Case in point. I helped prepare PowerPoint slides for our scripture study in the parish. Two weeks ago, I was able to set up the LCD projector, although I did not have much time to do it, so the screen was cut off at the bottom. The text was readable and comprehensible enough, so I let it go. I was happy to listen to the lessons in Greek and Paul's Letter to the Galatians.</div><div><br /></div><div>Last Thursday, however, I got stuck in traffic (story of my life last week) and arrived late. I had mere seconds to set up the presentation. I was confronted with the following problems: the screen was placed at an angle that required the projector to be placed similarly from a particular angle, which it was not. Now, I count visual art, geometry and physics as some of my weaknesses, and no way in the world could I make the projector work properly given that angle and the milliseconds to go before bible class had to start.</div><div><br /></div><div>Next, the Sanyo projector actually had a loose cable that unplugged it at the <i>slightest</i> movement. Did I mention that I had to find the right angle for the whole picture to appear on screen? Every time it got unplugged, therefore, it decided that it had to cool down for a few minutes, and then restart. Every single time. And it happened almost five times, to my growing dismay, irritation, and frustration.</div><div><div><div><br /></div><div>When the thing finally worked, the screen was cut in half. I could only read "<i>atians</i>" instead of "<i>Galatians</i>" from the title. I had a stiff neck because the screen image was tilted. And I was operating the clicker as Fr. Steve went on to start without the LCD. Nobody could appreciate the text on screen anymore. Fr. Steve was right; we had handouts and we didn't need the LCD. Technology only slowed us down and made life more complicated. </div><div><br /></div><div>What made it even worse was that the lesson about faith and salvation was so difficult for me to grasp, and I could not follow it. I had a frown for an hour, which caused me a headache. I lacked sleep, I had a long day at work, and I traveled for two hours to get home, so all these things affected my mood.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was not happy. I kept thinking, Oh no, all the nuns and my Bible Study classmates must think I'm a moron for not being able to make this work. One nun, God bless her, approached me afterwards and said she understood my difficulty, and it was not my fault. The projector had to be set up permanently. The table we were using was not suited for the purpose. She was right; for it could not even fit both the MacBook and the projector. She offered to help. I wanted to hug her.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I thought I was not normal for insisting that we still use the projector; and I was not normal for being distracted and irritated that the screen was partially hidden from view; and I was not normal for being so worried about what my classmates thought instead of listening to the theological points raised at class.</div><div><br /></div><div>But then I flunked the test. Miserably. I did not have A.S., according to my computer screen. Well, that figures. A person with A.S., usually possessing superior or even better I.Q., could make something as simple as a PowerPoint presentation work properly. And I with my normal IQ, low AQ and EQ, just had to deal with life with more patience and perseverance.</div><div><br /></div><div>My office mate suggested taking an online test for OCD (<i>Gee, thanks Twix!</i>). I found out that OCD and OCPD were two separate things. I didn't seem to fit any category. But what do I know? Maybe what I need, really, is professional help (<i>Tina, you can say I told you so</i>). Someone who can tell me what's wrong with me, and help make it right.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the meantime, I vowed to go to class extra early next week, and employ other people to set up the projector. Yes, I have not let that frustration go yet. (Perfectionism: there it is. The answer to the question.) </div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-83212915056901528672010-02-10T00:35:00.004+08:002010-02-10T00:45:55.192+08:00It's All Geek to MeI am a geek. There, I've said it.<div><br /></div><div>For the past two weeks I have been helping a couple of friends get used to their MacBooks. I installed MS Office and iWork '09, downloaded updates, introduced them to Skype and Gmail, added bookmarks, customized settings, among others. I spent hours doing this and I could have spent more hours if I did not have other things to do, like, for example, work, and teach.</div><div><br /></div><div>One of those friends has had his Mac for almost four years now, but was not able to maximize it. Another friend just bought a brand new MacBook. I happily removed it from its box and smelled all the newness inside. Then I gladly introduced her to her new toy slash best friend. She was surprised at this side of me she had not seen in action - my geeky side.</div><div><br /></div><div>Of late, grade school classmates have been posting our class pictures on Facebook. Ugh. I want to untag myself. Who wants to look at those pics? Those were my geekiest days, when the library was my hangout, books were my best friends, and classmates just existed to tease me no end. Okay, I still have a few friends left from grade school, but still, those were not exactly my happiest days. But they probably shaped me to become who I am now. And who I am for about two weeks now is <i>a geek</i>.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-88524601662530653632010-01-21T21:42:00.003+08:002010-01-21T21:58:23.304+08:00I'm. Too Lazy for My Blog.Too lazy for my blog, so lazy, it hurts.<div><br /></div><div>Time was when I wanted to document everything I did so I could share it with my readers. All five of them. But then Facebook and Twitter came and I turned to microblogging. Excuses, excuses.</div><div><br /></div><div>This year is whizzing by so fast that I've hardly had time to pause and reflect. It's been one project, meeting, activity, and errand after another. My friends have not seen me since before Christmas. </div><div><br /></div><div>But that was my whole game plan for 2010. I wanted to pursue my dreams, finish old projects, and excel in my jobs. All three and a half of them. And so far, so good. It's been an exciting three weeks.</div><div><br /></div><div>I will be back to the blogging world once my world settles a bit. With midterm exams coming for my students, good luck with that. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-66369384396003139232010-01-09T22:56:00.002+08:002010-01-09T23:10:37.157+08:00Teach in Order to LearnI am expanding my teaching and training skills bit by bit and have become increasingly convinced that nothing challenges me to learn more than teaching.<div><br /></div><div>I learned the way of life of Lingkod, the movement for single professional Catholics I belonged to, by giving the talks repeatedly for several years.</div><div><br /></div><div>I learned the ins and out of Lex Libris and other CD Asia products by being tapped to train lawyers and legal researchers to use them.</div><div><br /></div><div>I learned the basics of piano playing by heart when I subbed for my mother as piano teacher one summer a long time ago.</div><div><br /></div><div>I learned "Legal Grammar" or English for lawyers when I gave one module on the subject. </div><div><br /></div><div>The list goes on. I have become passionate for different causes and am able to share them to different groups because I am open to studying new ideas and acquiring new skills. </div><div><br /></div><div>Today, I learned how to maximize my MacBook to teach music through GarageBand, Pages, and Keynote. I went home eager to practice the piano and listen to classical music. I shared a day with music teachers and it was an amazing exchange of knowledge, skills, and ideas. I was able to tap the creative side of my brain, which usually has to lie low when I'm doing my job as a lawyer and a professor.</div><div><br /></div><div>I no longer need to read manuals from cover to cover before teaching a new course, according to my friend who facilitated the training earlier today. I need to keep pace with today's learners - my students - by learning and adapting in a much quicker pace than my teachers in their time were required to do. </div><div><br /></div><div>This new year has opened even more new doors of possibilities and opportunities. I am grateful for the chance to learn and impart, to think and perform, to grow and improve. </div><div><br /></div><div>This tells me that I have moved on from the things of the past. I have learned from them, too.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-88811154831965653832009-12-24T16:53:00.003+08:002009-12-24T16:59:54.906+08:00Merry Christmas!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XaMOefptCXE/SzMtf7FlUTI/AAAAAAAAFh8/7yi9TukNank/s1600-h/11232_213654929181_793214181_2966284_1366139_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 323px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XaMOefptCXE/SzMtf7FlUTI/AAAAAAAAFh8/7yi9TukNank/s400/11232_213654929181_793214181_2966284_1366139_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418724803117142322" /></a><br />I celebrate with all of you the blessings of this season. There is hope, there is joy ,and there is love in the world because Jesus our Savior is born. I put my trust in His Holy name. All the tragedies of 2009 are nothing compared to His love, and He can heal all things and all peoples. <div><br /></div><div>May we experience this hope, this joy, and this love, today and everyday. Merry Christmas to one and all!</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-367814934086696892009-12-20T21:59:00.001+08:002009-12-20T22:01:34.650+08:00Luigi Plays Jump!I can only play the first 11 chords of this song. Luigi heard his dad playing it and learned it on his own. He was asked to perform during the Christmas program of his school, Centro Montessori. <div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; "><object width="445" height="364"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/sbZxYxdC91A&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/sbZxYxdC91A&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"></embed></object></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-31635906656494143292009-12-08T23:02:00.007+08:002009-12-08T23:38:50.755+08:00Tuloy na Tuloy pa rin ang Pasko<span style="font-weight:bold;"><i><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I watched the Philippine Madrigal Singers at the Philamlife Lobby for Christmas Treats, a one-hour concert for the benefit of streetkids. I think the message of this song is very apt for Filipinos.</span></span></div><div><br /></div>Tuloy na Tuloy pa rin ang Pasko</i><br />Apo Hiking Society</span><br /><br />O bakit kaya tuwing Pasko ay<br />dumarating na<br />ang bawa't isa'y para bang<br />namomroblema<br />hindi mo alam ang regalong ibibigay<br />ngayong kay hirap na nitong ating buhay<br /><br />Meron pa kayang caroling at noche buena<br />kung tayo naman ay kapos at wala nang pera<br />nakakahiya kung muling pagtaguan mo<br />ang 'yong mga inaanak sa araw ng Pasko.<br /><br />[refrain]<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(85, 85, 85); ">♫♬♩♪ </span><br />Ngunit kahit na anong mangyari<br />ang pag-ibig sana'y maghari<br />sapat nang si Hesus ang kasama mo<br />tuloy na tuloy pa rin ang Pasko<br /><br />Mabuti pa nga ang Pasko noong isang taon<br />sa ating hapag mayroong keso de bola't hamon<br />baka sa gipit, Happy New Year mapo-postpone<br />at ang hamon ay mauuwi sa bagoong<br /><br />[refrain]<br />Ngunit kahit na anong mangyari<br />ang pag-ibig sana'y maghari<br />sapat nang si Hesus ang kasama mo<br />tuloy na tuloy pa rin ang Pasko<br /><br />(Instrumental)<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(85, 85, 85); "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(85, 85, 85); ">♫♬♩♪ </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(85, 85, 85); "></span>[refrain]<br />Ngunit kahit na anong mangyari<br />ang pag-ibig sana'y maghari<br />sapat nang si Hesus ang kasama mo<br />tuloy na tuloy parin ang pasko<br /><br />[coda]<br />Tuloy na tuloy pa rin (Tuloy na tuloy pa rin)<br />tuloy na tuloy pa rin (Tuloy na tuloy pa rin)<br />tuloy na tuloy pa rin ang Pasko<div>tuloy na tuloy pa rin ang Pasko <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(85, 85, 85); ">♫♬♩♪ </span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzksf_fze3Mt7dx7dLrbyNl-hGDKNelrvBOYhfwvehf6MswdAEmKkgTwZYHV71m57eYKegIl4KoMFFyF9Iccg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-41453597111265043792009-12-07T09:19:00.001+08:002009-12-07T09:21:10.371+08:00Not in VainI couldn't have said it better.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /><br />If I can stop one heart from breaking,<br />I shall not live in vain:<br />If I can ease one life the aching,<br />Or cool one pain,<br />Or help one fainting robin<br />Unto his nest again,<br />I shall not live in vain.<br /><br />-- Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-67565545229956835282009-11-29T08:45:00.002+08:002009-11-29T08:49:01.541+08:00Total Eclipse of the Heart<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>I know there are better things to do on a Sunday, on a Sunday morning, on the first Sunday on Advent at that. I will get to those in a while.<br /><br />For now, I want to share something that people with a lot of time on their hands have done.<br /><br />First, the flowchart. Study it closely. Prepared by <a href="http://jeannr.tumblr.com/post/165291081/i-made-a-flow-chart-that-we-might-better">this blogger</a>.<div><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 293px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XaMOefptCXE/SxHEehpnLLI/AAAAAAAAE-Y/py36NdvDO8Y/s400/total-eclipse-of-the-heart-flow-chart-4232-1250607798-5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409320656156699826" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And now, the literal version of the video. I'm rehearsing for the upcoming Christmas parties. Wonder if I'll get 100 if I use these lyrics. Haha.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:10px;"><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lj-x9ygQEGA&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lj-x9ygQEGA&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-57663122764150798722009-11-23T15:25:00.001+08:002009-11-23T16:04:58.438+08:00For All the Lives You LeadAn advertisement for a cellular phone struck me when I saw it because of its claims of superior multitasking capabilities. As an eternally restless kid, I thrive on carrying multiple roles that require results in rapid succession.<br /><br />One time, I was eerily reminded of the ad. It happened on a Saturday morning, which was not my sharpest time of the day and of the week. I had to attend a seminar at the law school, and I was specifically told to wear business attire as my picture will be taken for the Faculty ID card. So I took out my favorite power suit, blow-dried my hair, and carefully applied makeup. <br /><br />I always store workout clothes in the car just in case Nike the goddess of fitness decides to descend upon me and motivate me to do some rounds in UP campus. Workout clothes, Skechers walking shoes, check. Check.<br /><br /> I was going to meet my friends at Mr. Jones after the seminar so I packed casual weekend clothes as well. I was going on my first round of Christmas bazaars so I packed my updated 2009 Gift List too.<br /><br />I also keep a spare pair of flip-flops in the car for floods, pedicures, and other eventualities.<br /><br />I zoomed from Quezon City to Makati and miraculously made it on time. When I got to the Lyceum parking area, I stopped the car, and as had been my practice since ruining two perfect leather shoes early this year due to driving, reached for my black pumps to replace my Crocs. To my shock, my shoe bag was not where it was supposed to be. It was inside the bag containing my Saturday shopping clothes. Both bags were, unbelievably left in my bedroom.<br /><br />In my haste and confusion, I arrived in business attire from head to… above the foot. I pictured myself entering the august halls of the LPU library, with my colleagues admiring my corporate appropriateness, eyeing me from head to… Crocs! I panicked. I contacted all my friends in the general Makati area, and at 8 a.m. on a Saturday, I knew I must have deprived some of their beauty sleep. I needed office shoes that would fit my feet and my outfit, and I repeatedly banged my head (lightly) on the car window for my stupidity. All the Crocs, Skechers, and Havaianas in the world could not fill my need at the moment. <br /><br />Finally one of my BFFs woke up and generously offered to lend me a shirt (for later) and the requisite shoes. Thank God she’s almost my size. I would have worn a size 7.0 if that was the only pair available. I had to drive to Taguig to fetch the loaned goods, however, and thus missed the first part of the seminar. My priorities showed, but shoes complete the outfit!<br /><br />Later, I credited this confusion to my desire to lead many lives. I had two jobs and three phones, two home computers and an office computer, multiple email addresses and blogs, a virtual life and a real life. I realized that I had to pull myself together and be consistent, since perfection was obviously unattainable.<br /><br />A high – profile lawyer told me a couple of days later that she left her heels at home and was grateful she had left her weekend shopping shoes in the car, and that they happened to be black. The shoes went well with her suit and I complimented her for it. I did not tell her of my similar, in fact worse, experience. But I had to smile that I was not alone in making that mistake. The only problem is: she’s about thirty (30) years older than me. <br /><br />I therefore conclude that this multitasking thing is speeding up my aging process. I had better get grounded and organized. Soon.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-80829721839120399942009-11-10T10:16:00.002+08:002009-11-10T10:22:38.729+08:00Does Your Teacher Teach?<span style="font-style: italic;">“The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires.”</span> - William Arthur Ward<br /><br />I start teaching on Monday. <br /><br />There is a feeling of gratitude for I take this as a wonderful opportunity to share something of value to the next generation of lawyers. But there is also some trepidation. What if they need more than I can give?<br /><br />I decide to put these fears at the back of my head, and concentrate on the task at hand. I will give my best, and leave the rest to God. Yes, I admit, that I am a bit excited to formally and finally be a teacher. Like my parents before me. My aunts. My siblings. My very own teachers.<br /><br />The subject assigned to me is so benign, but my students are in for a surprise. I will make them work hard for their grade, in the hope that they will become better legal researchers and lawyers in the future.<br /><br />So watch out for Ella's Classroom Experiences. They are bound to be anything but boring. :)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-67920362986441114732009-11-08T00:11:00.002+08:002009-11-08T00:13:22.952+08:00Away MessageI know. I know. I haven't blogged in a while. It's not that there's nothing to write. I just haven't got the right mood for it these days. Feel free to browse the archives here and in <a href="http://elladelrosario.blogspot.com">my older blog</a>. <div><br /></div><div>Blogger's brain is elsewhere. Let's hope it rejoins this body soon.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-35528307622566769052009-10-25T22:09:00.004+08:002009-10-26T11:31:36.844+08:00Blind-SidedThere are times when you are in the mood for a fight. As long as it's a good fight. Like a car accident, for example, with an irresponsible bus driver and a drunk bus operator as the objects of your wrath. You sit in the rain, wait for your adversaries, argue with all your might, and get what you want. You then go home exhausted but fulfilled, because your concept of justice had prevailed. You fought for your rights, and you won.<div><br /></div><div>Then there are times when you are preoccupied with thoughts of saving the world, healing the sick, feeding the hungry, and doing your job when BAM! Your car gets hit and the other driver starts blaming you and takes advantage of your confusion. You are led to believe that it was just a scratch, that no harm was done, and that since both of you were at fault - something you could have easily disproved had you been so inclined - you would be better off leaving the scene of collision to pay for your own injuries.</div><div><br /></div><div>You then go home to find out that there were a couple of dents, not just an ugly scrape. Your father starts asking questions but you are not prepared to say that you had met another road accident just as you still suffered from the trauma of the previous one. You sit in silence and ignore the dents and the scratches and seethe inside. </div><div><br /></div><div>Life happens. You can take the car to the shop quarterly and try to be the best defensive driver but there will be times when you will be a victim of other people's stupidity.</div><div><br /></div><div>You can plan your day, your week, your month, and your year down to the details of your wardrobe and accessories, but you will never be prepared for all eventualities. There is no insurance that covers everything.</div><div><br /></div><div>You can be the best friend any person could have, treat people with respect, conduct yourself with honesty and integrity, yet BAM! Life can and will still surprise you. You can fight each battle and lose all your blood, or you can just walk away with your dents, scratches, and tears, and pay for the consequences of others' actions. And you will keep your head held high. Others who cheat and hurt, deliberately or carelessly, will get what they deserve in time. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>C'est la vie.</i></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-6496590978353730942009-10-24T01:02:00.002+08:002009-10-24T01:05:57.862+08:00i carry your heart with meThis wowed me. Why reinvent the wheel?<div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; "><b>I carry your heart with me</b></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; font-weight: bold; ">e.e. cummings</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; "><table class="contentpaneopen" style="text-align: center;padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; "><tbody><tr style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><td valign="top" colspan="2" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><p align="center" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><br /></p><p align="center" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "></p><div style="text-align: center;">I carry your heart with me (I carry it in</div><div style="text-align: center;">my heart) I am never without it (anywhere</div><div style="text-align: center;">I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done</div><div style="text-align: center;">by only me is your doing, my darling)</div><div style="text-align: center;">I fear</div><div style="text-align: center;">no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet ) I want</div><div style="text-align: center;">no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)</div><div style="text-align: center;">and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant</div><div style="text-align: center;">and whatever a sun will always sing is you</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">here is the deepest secret nobody knows</div><div style="text-align: center;">(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud</div><div style="text-align: center;">and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows</div><div style="text-align: center;">higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)</div><div style="text-align: center;">and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)</div><p></p></td></tr></tbody></table></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-14235038712244623692009-09-29T21:02:00.007+08:002009-10-02T21:17:20.308+08:00The Resilient Filipino<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/NyVoLTHgUBg&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/NyVoLTHgUBg&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />(Please press PLAY and read while video loads)<br /><br />I have been trained to be strong in times of distress and calamity, to focus on what I can do rather than on my feelings or reactions to the situations around me. Well, I have been trying to be strong since Saturday, but I can't hold back my tears anymore. <br /><br />I weep because of the tragedy brought about by the typhoon Ondoy in the Philippines, the increasing number of confirmed deaths, the stories I hear from the traumatized survivors who have barely escaped from the flood, and the overwhelming destruction to real and personal property. It happened to people close to me. As one TV announcer said, every Filipino was either directly hit by the flood or knew someone who suffered from it. <br /><br />Yesterday, I wept during my prayer time, asking God who among our leaders failed us. I badly wanted anybody who had been negligent in any way in their duties however small, or who had pocketed public funds meant for the upgrading of facilities that could have saved more lives and property, to be held responsible and to be penalized. I cried, but I knew that anger would not solve the mounting problems being highlighted by this event - ranging from erosion to garbage disposal to disaster preparedness.<br /><br />Today, I wept because of the goodness of the Filipino, and our resilience. We are no strangers to disaster, as I have personally witnessed how we have stood up after every storm. I have survived the flooding of 1988 (we slept in our school), the earthquake of 1990 (we held classes in makeshift classrooms after our school building was condemned), and the eruption of Mt. Pinatubo in 1991 (the roof of our house in Olongapo fell because of the ashfall). Mt. Pinatubo, in particular, led to something beautiful, for I heard that it had become a must-see natural resort, and I plan to visit it one day. <br /><br />What triggered my emotions tonight was this information I got from an FB friend, who also reposted it from someone else:<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Caught on TV- Man rescued in a rubberboat asked, "<span style="font-weight:bold;">28 na ba ngayon</span>?" Cameraman: "<span style="font-weight:bold;">Opo</span>, 28." Man somberly replied, "<span style="font-weight:bold;">Birthday ko na pala</span>." Rescuers who were paddling hard turned to him in surprise before slowly singing, "Ha...ppy.. birth..day... to you..." Even in the midst of devastation the Filipino spirit never ceases to acknowledge and celebrate the gift of life.</span><br /><br />I wept for our people who, in the midst of tragedy, could still break into smile and wave when they saw TV cameras; who, while watching floodwaters rising last Saturday, danced and jumped in the rain; who, after losing everything to the flood, still could joke that their TV had become an aquarium; who, while waiting for their rescuers atop their roof, could still eat <span style="font-style:italic;">litson manok</span> and count themselves blessed as others had nothing to eat for days; and the stories continue.<br /><br />I wept because we had become so used to disaster and tragedy that we simply find comfort in humor, in food, and in music; instead of wanting more, or demanding what was due to us.<br /><br />On the news and all over the Internet, there were many stories of real-life heroes: those who lost their lives after saving many other lives; those who gave out of their bounty; and those who gave out of their need. So much love was being poured; and it felt like one big family effort to feed the hungry, clothe the poor, heal the sick, and bury the dead.<br /><br />Of course, there were evil spirits as well that had triggered text scammers to pretend to be Ondoy victims, looters to take advantage of the lowered defenses of people, and campaign managers to discredit and doubt the generosity of their political opponents by spreading ugly rumors through every channel possible. <span style="font-weight:bold;">These untimely, uncalled-for, and unbelievable actions should be flushed out together with the floodwaters.</span> I choose to believe that even while there are still some who do not listen to their conscience and continue polluting and abusing the environment, and renege on their duties as public servants by considering their own welfare above those of the people whom they serve, that there still many more who respond to the call to give whatever they could to a people in need, once more.<br /><br />There was news of that judge on jetski in Palmera IV, Quezon City, who rescued many neighbors and led people in prayer. Then there was the highly-applauded young man who saved several people and animals, but who died while in action. We heard about that actor who helped and refused to be recognized for his efforts. And there was a report about that famous TV personality/singer who made sandwiches and distributed them herself.<br /><br />Even those seemingly in need also gave out of the generosity of their hearts, and because of their deep gratitude at being saved, like that poor government employee who showed up to help others, even if he himself suffered the wrath of Ondoy's flood, and that child who gave up his toys and wanted to make sure that the children in the evacuation centers got them.<br /><br />There is still much to be learned, seen, and written because of this ongoing tragedy and triumph of the Filipino. The job of picking up the pieces and starting over is more difficult given the financial, emotional, and psychological issues that surround a disaster of this magnitude, but one thing is certain: <span style="font-style:italic;">we can weather this storm. We have been through a lot, and we have the means and the tenacity to survive this one. </span><br /><br />My prayer though is for every Filipino to wake up one day to terrific good news, whatever that may be; to know how it is to thrive instead of just survive; and to personally see for themselves the fulfillment of the promise as symbolized by the rainbow after the rain.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-15604697866582689502009-09-25T22:49:00.006+08:002009-09-25T23:53:19.123+08:00Shameless Plug for Jollibee :)I passed by <a href="http://www.jollibee.com.ph/">Jollibee</a> before going home to claim some freebies courtesy of my <a href="http://www.mybpimag.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=628&Itemid=764%20">BPI Credit Card</a> (<i>ayan may free advertisement pa ng aking paboritong fastfood at paboritong bangko, Proudly Pinoy). </i>I meant to eat something on the way home as I had anticipated that the rains would cause streets to be congested all the way to QC. I was right. <div><div><br /></div><div>I was snacking on the regular fries while waiting for a taxi outside <a href="http://www.robinsonsmalls.com/">Robinsons Place Manila</a>, my newest hangout due to its proximity to my office, when a man, who must have grown old begging, held out his palm to me. I stopped chewing mid-fry and handed him the packet of fries that still had a good amount of potato left. The man eyed my Jollibee bag and said, "<i>Tinapay</i>!" (Bread!). I shook my head and said, "<i>Para po sa anak ko ito" </i>(This is for my child).</div><div><br /></div><div><i></i>I didn't know what came over me. I didn't have any children. What I had was <i>pasalubong</i> for my parents and my <i>balikbayan </i>aunt, and I guess I was looking for gratitude in the man's eyes. I didn't see any. Then he said, "<i>Barya na lang"</i> (Give me coins then). The lady standing on the taxi lane before me interrupted and said, "<i>Manong, binigyan ka na nga ng pagkain eh</i>" (Brother, she already gave you food). The man walked away, sad.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was saddened by that incident, without knowing that I would later on give the Double Yum with TLC in my bag to someone else: the cab driver.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Taxi Lane was not moving, and irate shoppers were picking on the mall security guard for allowing people who did not fall in line to get the cabs that refused to stop in front of the designated space. I already had enough bad experiences with cabbies to know that I might have to wait for an hour in that kind of situation. So I did what I had to do. I called my regular cab company, Reno, the garage of which was just five minutes away from my house. They <i>never</i> refused passengers who wanted to get to Don Antonio, as that was their home base as well. I was at ease with their drivers, since they knew that I knew where they worked and could thus report any undesirable behavior.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway.</div><div><br /></div><div>I waited for ten minutes in front of the Padre Faura exit of the mall, away from the taxi lane so as to avoid having to "fight" for <i>my</i> cab, and when I saw the plate number I was given on the phone, I hailed the cab, and the driver saw me. It was a rainy night and the end of a very long work week. Before I could get in, a man (in black) also hailed the cabbie. I saw the driver motion with his left hand that he was answering a client's call and was not available. As I was taking my seat, I heard a loud thud and immediately saw another man (in white), apparently the companion of the one who hailed the taxi after I did, violently hit the hood of the taxi with his bare hands.</div><div><br /></div><div>Man-in-white shouted to the driver, "<i>Pulis ako!</i>", and proceeded to hurl expletives at the driver. I gathered that he thought the driver was just being picky, so I attempted to talk to him and explained that I called the taxi company and he was just fetching me as scheduled. Man-in-white refused to even acknowledge my existence. He looked drunk. He then twisted the radio antenna of the car, and the driver protested. They had a heated argument, and man-in-black intervened. He closed the door of the cab, but man-in-white opened it again, all the time shouting expletives at the driver, who was regally defending himself. </div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually we were out of danger. Or so I thought. The driver could not get over what happened, and made a U-turn to drive directly in front of the men-in-uniform, but a mall security guard stopped him, thinking his passenger (who was me) was alighting, and asked if he could let the "man from Immigration" ride the cab. The driver asked the guard for the man-in-white's name, but at this time said man already flashed the dirty finger to the driver, and they exchanged another round of obscene four-letter words.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, I had had a rough week. Month. Year. I was in <a href="http://kolumnista.blogspot.com/2009/09/shaken-but-not-stirred.html">a car accident last week</a>. The day after, my vertigo struck as the cab driver wound his merciless way around the streets of Manila. Worse, I could not contribute much towards the hosting of my aunt from the States as I got sick with the flu over the weekend. My work was stressful enough for ten people, and I had all the stress-related symptoms ever invented. I was just diagnosed yesterday as having Impaired Glucose Tolerance (IGT) or being in the pre-diabetic stage, and was given medication, and was studying a new diet and exercise plan more suited to my situation. Two weeks ago, I kept a close friend of mine company after her car accident. I had yet to see my first government paycheck for this position. The actual list of whines is much longer. You get the point.</div><div><br /></div><div>My natural reaction would have been to panic at the scene played in front of me. But I could not afford to panic. I tried to calm the driver down and to dissuade him from courting disaster. He kept saying he could get any policeman dismissed from the service, as he had done so in the past, when his rights were similarly trampled upon. This man, he said, was not even a real policeman! He was not afraid! His taxi company would defend him! He had a witness: me! He had a defender: Tulfo!</div><div><br /></div><div>I had to agree with him that he did nothing wrong and to utter other words of assurance that he was victimized by a government employee who was on a power trip. I then reminded him to flag down his meter because he had completely forgotten it, so engrossed was he on thoughts of revenge. We had a very long discussion as traffic was bad (usual Friday rainy night stuff), and to cheer him up, I offered him a Jollibee yumburger.</div><div><br /></div><div>He unwrapped the juicy burger and quickly bit into it while he was driving. He said that he didn't realize that the incident had left him hungry. At last, I heaved a sigh of relief. It was only then that I ate my favorite Jollibee hotdog, which I had been wanting to sink my teeth into ever since leaving the mall. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was a scene straight out of a <a href="http://www.jollibee.com.ph/">Jollibee</a> commercial. Comfort food. <i>Pampalamig ng ulo. Pag may karapatan, ipaglaban mo. Mag-Jollibee muna tayo.</i> (Sorry, there simply is no appropriate translation for that.)</div><div><br /></div><div>I got home safely and paid the driver the usual fare, even though the taxi meter showed a much lower amount, since our drive from Faura to Quiapo was not registered. I still had a Jolly hotdog and a Cheesy Bacon Mushroom to share with my family. I wasn't able to tell them about my eventful night because they were engrossed with the last episode of <i>Tayong Dalawa</i>. Yes, this entry is so <i>Pinoy</i>!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Tomorrow, or sometime this weekend, I will write about two office outfit disasters that eventually turned into blessings. Safety pins and shawls are involved. ;)</b></div><div><br /></div><div>By the way, I am not getting paid for this by Jollibee. But if the people behind it chance upon this blog, a two-piece Chickenjoy meal will do. For me. For cabbie (I can get his name from the company). For man-in-black. Even for man-in-white (Cabbie is going to research his identity). Might change his ways, who knows.</div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6500610698134699244.post-90224650065199487542009-09-17T01:56:00.004+08:002009-09-17T02:29:11.428+08:00Shaken, But Not StirredSince I can't sleep anyway, I might as well write.<div><br /></div><div>I got hit by a bus. The car I was driving, I mean. I'm fine, and the car will be fine after repair, but it was another harrowing experience.</div><div><br /></div><div>Is it just me, or have bus drivers, especially those plying the Fairview-Manila route, worsened in their blatant ignorance of all traffic rules and regulations? I must have been thinking of them too much and getting affected by their snake-like driving from Commonwealth to Taft Ave. that one night, I just found my car being slowly hit by a bus.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was a rainy night, and rush hour traffic was moving slowly. I knew I was sticking to my lane, however narrow it was due to the inexistent lane division on that part of Quezon Ave., when all of a sudden I felt the collision, and to my utter horror, the bus driver did not stop. It only meant that he did not notice that he was already about to run over an entire car. He was oblivious to my car's blaring horn. He only stopped the bus when he heard a loud, scraping sound, and I don't know, maybe his passengers who had better eyesight and awareness of their surroundings noticed what he was doing. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was all alone, and no matter my 10 years of practice, I still could not compose a single lawyer-like sentence to defend my rights. The driver, his conductor, and ten million other uzi (Pinoy term for people who like to ogle during the oddest and most inappropriate times, like accidents) proceeded to my side of the car. Driver insisted that it was my fault, because, if he had been the one at fault, I would have suffered greater injury. Then he asked me to move my car because his passengers were being inconvenienced. I felt my blood rising.</div><div><br /></div><div>I should have thanked him for doing a Chavit! (Chavit Singson is the notorious "state witness" who told on his ex-friend Erap, thus starting his impeachment case, and who recently told the media that his lover and her new bf were lucky that he only hurt them and did not have them killed, after he caught them in the act of making love). Oh, thank you bus driver, that I only suffered that injury!</div><div><br /></div><div>I told him instead that it the vehicles should not be moved until the police officer had had the chance to inspect the scene and make a sketch of the collision. Well, maybe in not that clear a manner, for I was in distress and close to tears. I willed myself not to cry in anger and frustration. I had to think. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was hard to think. I could not focus. It was dark, it was raining, and I had been in that situation before, but for some reason - tiredness, maybe, or panic - I could not think straight. After a couple of minutes of quick prayer, I told myself that I had to pull myself together. I called up my family and friends to ask for help. I was so helpless and alone and I needed a lawyer, a policeman, a family member, and a friend. </div><div><br /></div><div>I got what I wanted. They all came at the same time. The traffic police came first, and he was very efficient. I trusted him on instinct, and he was nice to me. I don't think it had anything to do with where I worked. He must have seen that it was the bus driver's fault and I was the victim, for he walked me through the entire ordeal and made me feel safe, that everything was going to be alright. </div><div><br /></div><div>My brother was in a meeting, but he sent my sister-in-law, who immediately took photos and assured me with her presence. I wanted to cry when I saw her, but stopped myself again. She accompanied me to the police station, and only left when my friend, the lawyer, arrived.</div><div><br /></div><div>My lawyer was no stranger to car accidents, having herself been in one last week, where I played the role of lawyer. She was the calm one while I tried to control my anger, and came up with a wise strategy that solved my problem for the night. She advised that we aim for a cash settlement outright. The policemen were very, very helpful. They did their job well without a single centavo from any of the parties. There is hope for this country. Goodness still exists underneath the rough exterior of people.</div><div><br /></div><div>After a long, restless wait, the bus company operator arrived and the dreaded negotiation began. I tried to recall everything I had learned about those situations, but no concept or idea came to mind. That was what TSP was there for. She assisted me when I began arguing with the obviously drunk operator. The policemen let us come up with an agreement before they came in. They too were surprised that the owner/operator paid in cold cash, although his hands were shaking while he was counting the money. </div><div><br /></div><div>This experience woke me up to many things, but one thing I know, is that when trials hit one after another, instead of complaining, I should be grateful, that God provides the means to triumph over them one by one. Worst things could have happened, my parents said when I related the story. I could have been hurt. My nephew asked his mom to tell me that he was glad that I was not hurt and that he loved me. I had wonderful friends who were praying for me and who offered help even though they could not be physically present. </div><div><br /></div><div>Ironically, it's the bus operator's statement that summarized the experience. "Nobody is perfect on the road," he said. That's right. I realized that if accidents happen, as they sometimes do, there are much more things to be grateful for. As I told a friend when he asked me how I was after the accident, "I'm shaken, but not stirred." It was a bad thing to happen, but good things came out of it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I close with the psalm for today that I read this morning before going to work:</div><div><br /></div><div><i>I will give thanks to the LORD with all my heart in the company and assembly of the just. Great are the works of the LORD, exquisite in all their delights. (Ps. 111, 1-2)</i></div><div><br /></div><div>For what can I say? He answered all my prayers tonight. I will sleep with that comforting thought. I will bring the car to the <i>talyer</i> this weekend. No driving for me for a few days.</div><div><br /></div><div>Will also pray if it's time to move.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06076972307299752414noreply@blogger.com1