Escapade!

Last year was my shlumpadinka 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:

Escapade
Songwriters: Lewis, Terry;Jackson, Janet;Harris, James


As I was walkin' by saw you standin' there with a smile

Lookin' shy you caught my eye

Thought you'd want to hang for a while



Well I'd like to be with you and you know it's Friday too

I hope you can find the time this weekend to relax and unwind



My mind's tired I've worked so hard all week

Cashed my check I'm ready to go

I promise you I'll show you such a good time



Chorus:

Come on baby let's get away

Let's save your troubles for another day

Come go with me we've got it made

Let me take you on an escapade (let's go)



Es-ca-pade we'll have a good time

Es-ca-pade leave your worries behind

Es-ca-pade you can be mine

Es-ca-pade an escapade



So don't hold back just have a good time

We'll make the rules up as we go along

And break them all if we're not havin' fun



Repeat Chorus



My mind's tired I've worked so hard all

Worked so hard all week

I just got paid, we've got it made ready to go

I promise you I'll show you such a good time



Repeat Chorus


Don't take the lyrics seriously. I don't plan to break any rules. I seldom do.

It's All Geek to Me

I am a geek. There, I've said it.

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.

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.

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 a geek.

Merry Christmas!

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.

May we experience this hope, this joy, and this love, today and everyday. Merry Christmas to one and all!

For All the Lives You Lead

An 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.

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.

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.

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.

I also keep a spare pair of flip-flops in the car for floods, pedicures, and other eventualities.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

I therefore conclude that this multitasking thing is speeding up my aging process. I had better get grounded and organized. Soon.

Blind-Sided

There 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

C'est la vie.

Shaken, But Not Stirred

Since I can't sleep anyway, I might as well write.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I close with the psalm for today that I read this morning before going to work:

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)

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 talyer this weekend. No driving for me for a few days.

Will also pray if it's time to move.

Arriving at the Next Step

What can I write now that I haven't already written during the past six years of this and my other blog's existence? I have been through trials and triumphs, challenges and victories, and all these things have been documented. But since God is good to me repeatedly, it is almost a disservice to Him not to speak of His goodness again and again.

Let me introduce my latest blessing by saying that each journey is different, and the way God has moved in my life cannot but affect others around me. Even if my decisions have made some people sad, it will only be for the short-term, and in the future they will be much better off and will meet new people who will fulfill my current roles so much better.

I write about my journey to share how it has been for me, as there were whispered prayers to God that have been answered in the specific way I asked Him to. Now isn't He grand? I thought I was meant to suffer, but the sufferings I endured turned out to have a limit, and one day I found myself free to go and to move on with my life, hopefully wiser from all that I have gone through.

The journey of finding the next step in one's career is not always easy; in fact in my case it has been a constant search for my place under the sun. I have done new things and met new challenges I would not have welcomed, were it not for God's clear instructions to stay where I was and to continue giving my best, even if I doubted whether my best was ever going to be good enough for the demands of my job.

I had a constant feeling of being inadequate, and longed to be measured in terms of the things I was good at - writing, for example - rather than things I was constantly groping in the dark about. Although results did turn out well eventually and I somehow got into the groove of the business, part of me was undeniably yearning for a life I thought I had turned my back on - my life as a lawyer.

After a lot of soul-searching, I asked God to let a job land on my lap. I had no time to job-hunt, and I had no desire to shift careers again. I did not know how things would end up, and I must have bored my friends to death with my constant complaints about my inefficiencies and frustrations at work. I have angels for friends, for they waited with me, and gave sound advice. I was in a good place, and I had to stay put until a better, concrete offer came along.

One day an old friend asked me to give the Court another try. I was closed to the idea because I was not sure how something I had already left behind would be my future. It was fun while it lasted, I thought. The Court was located in Manila, which I associated with flash floods and bad drivers. My friend encouraged me to pray about it, because I had constantly been talking dreamily about my life as a court attorney, and how I wanted to write for a living again. But I was familiar with Padre Faura, having studied in Manila Science High School for four years, and Manila, well I lived there for 15 years. I was coming home to Manila (remember a few posts ago, I posted the song)? I was coming home to the Court.

I went home and discussed it with my parents. My mother got excited, because according to her, my father brought it up just a week before, how he would be happy if I would go back to being Court Attorney. I asked my father what he thought, and he lifted up both hands in jubilation. I was surprised at his reaction, for my father was not prone to outward expressions of emotion. He said, "I have been praying for this for a very long time now!" He said he would be so much at peace knowing I worked for the Supreme Court and would even be open to the possibility of me becoming a judge someday. I told them I was almost tempted not to get the job because it made them too happy. It was a startling contrast to the time I insisted on resigning from the Sandiganbayan to work for Lingkod full-time as a volunteer staffer. That did not sit well with them, at all, but I had to do it, for my heart was so in it. It was the calling for me at that time.

Things moved fast after that. I talked to my old boss, and my current boss, two women I admired greatly. We worked out a plan and a schedule. It made a lot of people very happy, but I was the happiest of all. It was just time to move, and I had God's full blessing. Nothing was sweeter than that knowledge, not even the approving cheers of all my (burdened) friends. I did not have to apply; for the offer had been standing for some time now. I would not have to shift careers or to adjust in a major way, for this was my prior life. I had done my share of serving God full-time, and obeying Him to the letter, and it was time to be happy again.

Life is continuing to fall into place day by day. I am at a time of harvest again. The seasons of life do come, and I am glad I waited for the Lord to move before moving, for in His time, everything is in beautiful blossom, and they will all bear good fruit.

I will have time to rest soon before the new job starts. I am happy to be surrounded by such supportive family and friends. My colleagues whom I will leave behind are also very supportive of my decision. They probably can't wait for the despedidas and the parties as well.

Unceremonious Graduation from Torture

I woke up last Saturday not knowing that it would be my Freedom Day. That after several years of enduring braces on my teeth, my orthodontist was finally going to take them off.

I wish I had known beforehand. I would have prepared a little ceremony. I would have asked my parents to accompany me. I would have arranged for my friends to meet us after, so we could all have a nice lovely lunch.

Instead, it happened this way. When I got home on Friday night, Mama told me that my dentist's secretary called and informed her that the Doc wanted to see me on Saturday, and that I had to confirm anytime during the night. It was very important, the secretary said. Mama wondered what that was all about.

I explained to her that during my last few visits, I had strongly hinted that I was going to get myself featured in a dental magazine as the Person Who Had Braces on the Longest. The secretary begged me not to do it, as she said nobody would come to their clinic anymore. I said I was giving them (the dental team) an ultimatum. They had to take the braces off as they were preventing me from migrating abroad, getting married... basically getting a life.

I was using humor as usual to hide what to me was a source of frustration and irritation. I could have gone lawyerly and just filed a lawsuit for them to do their job properly and get my teeth fixed, pronto. They promised it would only take two years. Sure, I had missed out on a few appointments, but that started when I was already tired of those wires and bands that were residing in my mouth.

During my last visit, another dentist from the same team saw me. I had gone on a Friday, after several years of going on Saturdays, that's why I chanced upon her. She was mildly shocked to see that I still had braces on, and that my stubborn teeth still had not moved closer together.

My theory is that doctora talked to The Doctor, and informed him of my threat of a Dental Magazine Expose.

I had a full schedule last Saturday, with errands, chores, and meetings, but I squeezed in ten minutes to see my ortho. Little did I know that I was going to stay there for more than an hour, miss my movie date with my parents, and be poorer by a couple of thousand bucks.

He told me that he discussed my case with his team and they had decided to do recontouring, so that we all didn't have to wait anymore for the day when my teeth would finally obey the braces. I endured an hour of pushing and pulling, with my dentist working his magic, as if I had lost all my teeth on some accident and he was giving me an appearance of a perfect smile. He took a before-and-after photo. He took the darn braces off. I had to raise my hand to get gargle breaks during the procedure, as I had not eaten lunch (this was an unplanned procedure) and some acid from my stomach got caught up in my throat.

Afterwards, he told me, "Congratulations. This is your graduation day. No more braces."

I went home dazed. Magazine popularity? Gone. Possible lawsuit? Prevented (at least for now. Hehe). Pearly white smile? Here I come.

That night, while eating Mango Bravo at Conti's, I gave my friend K a bright smile, hoping she would notice. She asked if I meant she had chocolate on her teeth. I said no and kept my toothy smile. She said, "No Ella you don't have chocolate on your teeth." Our other friends who knew about my recent graduation from torture laughed and told her what I was smiling about. They found out about it on Facebook. My nephews immediately noticed when they came to visit the next day. Kids just pay more attention, sometimes.

If only all my braces would come off. Then I would have every reason to smile more.

I Was Thirsty

Just imagine how thirsty I was earlier this evening. I was out with my friends, we had all just come from a two-wedding-weekend where we had played various roles to support the respective couples, we were dressed to the nines, and my order had just arrived.

The waiter placed the ice-cold bottle on top of the coaster. Then, my seatmate exclaimed that she had a missed call from one of our friends. I checked my cellphone and saw two missed calls as well. We looked at one another and suspected something was wrong. When we got in touch with our other friend, true enough, we found out that the car they were riding got side-swept by a truck.

I stared at my drink, which I had waited for since yesterday. I looked at the brother beside me, who was talking to the girls in the car accident, and asked him if the damage was serious. He reported that the girls were okay, but the two vehicles that collided were already causing traffic.

Perhaps I was exhausted from the two weddings, but I was, up to that point, oblivious to my supposed role in the incident. I attempted to take a sip. My friend, who was also a lawyer, asked the brother, "Do they need our help?" I sighed. "Do they need a lawyer?" I asked, suddenly imagining my friends' predicament and wishing I could just take one sip.

We discussed what to do and it was decided that three of us would rescue the girls. I stared longingly at the ice-cold drink in front of me. Brother M told me, "Let's come back to drink that later."

We turned out to be a good team. Brother M knew everything about cars, K could play good lawyer, and I could play tough lawyer.

During the drive to the scene of the accident, it suddenly dawned on me. I was never going to see that drink again. Never mind that my friends and I had planned and waited for that perfect moment when all our duties would have ended and we did not anymore have to wake up early the next day. It was a long, but very enjoyable, day and it was not going to end the way I wanted it to.

When we got there and saw our friends, our drinks were momentarily forgotten. The truck was loaded with six pigs. It was midnight. We did not have sufficient paper to properly write the driver's statement on. The driver claimed he had no money, which we all agreed was just the standard excuse.

We all wanted it over and done with. At least no one was hurt. But it took us too long to get out of that situation that our other friends, who had watched our drinks for us, had to go home already. In the interest of safety, we all went our separate ways as well after we got back to the restaurant. Somebody graciously paid for my unopened drink.

I don't usually charge lawyers' fees from friends (for small matters like these), but I will make an exception on this one, and will settle for a drink. One ice-cold drink.

Back from the City of Smiles

I used to associate Bacolod City with rest and recreation. My first two trips to this City of Smiles were sponsored by a wonderful family whose last name, to me, became synonymous with good food. Every meal that I spent with them was worth celebrating. I saw the wonderful sights within the city and drove to the nearby towns to taste what they had to offer. I always came home to Manila with loads of napoleones and half-moon from Roli's, mango tartlets and butterscotch from Virgie's, souvenirs from The Negros Showroom, and angel cookies from El Ideal.

During those vacation trips, I enjoyed my visit to the ancestral homes, played a piano that belonged to native Jose Mari Chan, posed at the Mambukal Resort, ate authentic chicken inasal at Manukan, and feasted my eyes on the colorful costumes on parade during the Masskara Festival.

My last two trips, however, were for work. Last year, I only stayed for a night as a stopover for my meetings in three cities. This year, I went to Bacolod for IBP's 12th National Convention of Lawyers. It was a busy first quarter for me as I prepared our marketing materials for our sales booth during the convention. I looked forward to the actual trip because I thought that I could work hard and play harder by going out each night.

As it turned out, my plans to unwind were thwarted. Nobody expected what would happen. Instead of the 1,200 confirmed participants to the convention, 2,300 actually came. There were not enough rooms and kits; the food ran out; and the space was cramped. Lawyers lined up under the heat of the sun to get their snacks and lunch, and everyone was cranky. My heart went out to the organizers of the event, who had no idea that so many lawyers would walk in, never mind that a disputed memorandum was issued weeks before requiring lawyers to attend at least one national convention.



I checked my camera today, and found only three pictures worth posting here: the ones I took before the convention actually started. There was a mini-masskara festival, with Masskara dancers performing around the venue and during the Opening Program, and stalls offering the best of Negros products dotting the open space between the buildings at the Bacolod Pavilion Resort and Hotel. Believe it or not, I only spent five minutes checking out the stalls, for I was too busy to shop even for a shirt to bring home as souvenir.



Each night, I preferred to go home early and rest. I could not lift my right arm on the second day after all the stuff that I mindlessly carried, mostly marketing materials. Our company's booth was swamped with inquiries and sales during the short breaks between sessions, and I was on my toes for three whole days. I hardly had time to go out, and when I did, I only ate to get it over and done with. I went to the famous Calea for the first time, but despite the tempting desserts on display, I was able to resist buying anything.




People kept saying I was lucky my work allowed me to travel, so I focused on that as a blessing, instead of complaining that it was an exhausting trip.

What I need right now is sleep, a good massage, and some time of rest and prayer. I am grateful that it is almost Holy Week. It will be a joyous Easter after all the ordeals I went through during Lent. :)

Still Amazing, Despite a Long Break From Blogging

What is my excuse for disappearing on you?  I had been feeling less than wonderful these past few days.  

I got sick with the flu, which almost always succeeds in slowing me down and putting life on hold.  I could not do what I usually did - that of making the mundane seem interesting, and of chronicling the simple events of life with eyes of awe and wonder.  Sometime after my last post, the river was just a river, so to speak.  I felt like I had nothing amazing to share.

So the book review on "The Secret Life of Bees" has been shelved. I have also backed out of some other projects offline.  Health and work had to take priority, aside from my other duties.  

But it had not been a month of boredom and monotony.  I had some serious fun as 

well!

Check out the photos.

I relived the beauty of Manila when I toured it with my family,

I watched fireworks last Chinese New Year at the Mall of Asia with my entire family,

I goofed around in our living room for a photo shoot,

I posed for our first proper family portrait, 

and

 

I attended birthday parties of friends.

All in all, still an amazing life.  And it goes on. 

I cut my hair.  I got sick.  I got well.  I went back to work.  I attended a prayer meeting.  I had coffee with great people.   And Valentine's Day came.

I will look at my blessings and be grateful for this amazing life.

Another Amazing Anniversary

To add to my two previous posts about anniversaries for 2009, this year we're also celebrating 10 years of Lingkod QC's predecessor, Friends and Lovers in Prayer/ Friends and Lovers of Prayer (FLIP/FLOP). We're going to have a reunion on February 14, 2009 at Lime 88 that sits behind Mirac's house in Mandaluyong.

Calling all QT's! Leave a message or e-mail me if you want to attend. It's going to be a night of music, friendship, great food, and more! God bless.

Sweet Dreams Are Made of These

We've all read that forwarded message stating that we shouldn't postpone happiness, that we shouldn't wait until we've paid off our debts, won the battle against cancer, solved our family problems, reached 200% of our company targets, achieved a Pulitzer or Nobel prize, found our suitable partner, raised brilliant kids, or reached the Oscar Hall of Fame until we decide to be happy.

We can choose to be happy now, and when we do, we can recognize just how much we are blessed. I have been overwhelmed with the gift of friendship that God has given me. I do not deserve to have such wonderful people praying for me, taking care of me, listening to me, laughing with me, counting on me, sharing with me, rooting for me, and giving to me. It is not all about me, but about how God has placed the right combination of people so that I won't be led astray.

I am very happy now, and I hold on to the feeling with delightful bliss, for as a recovering perfectionist happy moments are few and far between (yes, despite the blessings).

The reasons for my happiness are endless.

My father celebrated his 73rd birthday last Saturday and despite the health scare last week, he is doing okay now and is even back to his usual daily routine. I am looking forward to a vacation with my family this coming January, when all of my siblings and siblings-in-law form abroad will be here in the Philippines. It gives me a warm fuzzy feeling, and I enjoy the planning and scheduling that is involved in anticipation of our family reunion.

I seem to be doing better in my job. After a year in my position, I am not as daunted by my responsibilities anymore, and I have learned to just give my best and let God do the rest. The formula, as always, has worked, for last month we reached our sales targets, with several team members performing way beyond expectation. Planning season is upon us and I savor it as a time to apply what I have learned the past year and to implement my plans for our products and our department.

And have I mentioned that I really do have wonderful friends? From grade school, high school, college, law school, Lingkod, parish, and office, I am surrounded by friends. This should not be, and it is not out of my sheer charm that this happened. God knows that I am a people person and I delight in organizing get-togethers and spending quality time with people I treasure.

Last night was one such happy event. To celebrate the birthday of our dear friend Fr Steve Tynan, Lingkod brothers and sisters who have come to know him through the years gathered at Dencio's for about five hours of fellowship. More get-togethers were planned, and friendships were strengthened. The conversation was life-giving to everyone. I had a personal relationship with everyone who was there and I was very glad to be sitting there, watching the people, joining the conversation, sharing the food, passing on the love.

Dencio's Capitol Hills was the perfect venue. We had a good view of the Marikina Valley, and we did not have to drive out of the city to do that. We enjoyed the sisig, the beer, the turon, and everything in between. We loved their coffee. It was surprisingly good. We definitely want to go back to that place.


It is nights like these that I celebrate, to help me survive the daily challenges of life. I am very grateful to God for all these blessings, and in response, I want to share His love to everyone around me. For His love is just abundant that I cannot contain it. I have to give it away.

This is so High School!

No, I'm not talking about that musical that was turned into a movie.  This is IT, the real thing, my high school batchmates, back in my life, alive and kicking.

We've reloaded our Manila Science High School Batch '91 (and thus she reveals her age) egroup recently, and just like an old friendship, we all picked up where we left off.  Anyone who knows me well can attest that I had loads of fun at MaSci, and that I loved my smart, witty, and creative batchmates.  I cried the most during graduation.  I had them over to my house as often as I could.  I was a walking class directory and birthday alarm.  I went to college with about 100 of them, in U.P.  Before I met the Lord through community, MaSci was my second home.

At the dawn of the Internet era in the Philippines, we had our first egroup.  Everyone was excited and we received hundreds of messages in a month.  But alas, high school tempers flared up and that egroup had slowly disappeared into oblivion.  

Many years later, we have probably matured and missed high school even more, so we tried again.  Efforts were made to organize mini-reunions.  Threads were introduced in the yahoogroup to entice members to email.  It did not pick up easily, like a diesel engine.  

But it was only a matter of time before my outspoken batchmates would enter into an online debate about health care, legal issues, and the economy.  Reading the entries, all well-written and well-supported, became a habit for almost 150 members of the world's labor force.  MaScians scattered across the globe slowly came together to support whichever side they were on.  I did not contribute to the intelligent conversations.

I was more interested in reminiscing.  And I'm glad we're on that thread now.  Oh, the revelations!  The implications.  The what-ifs and could have beens.  The resolutions and reconciliations.  We're onto something here.  

MaSci was a huge part of my life that I had relegated to the background for fear of being inconsistent with who I had become, or trying to become.  Now I can slowly see that I can be true to myself with them, for I no longer need their affirmation.

To my batchmates, I hope all 316 of us could be accounted for.  Spread the word!  Masci91reloaded.  We don't need a movie to know we have great stories to tell.  Get in touch with me and I will add you to our yahoogroup.

Campus Girl is back. ;) 

 

Now Playing: Remembering You

The video and the song played during Fr. Geoffrey's Youth Alive despedida, October 18, 2008.  Read about him here.

Remembering You
Steven Curtis Chapman
The Chronicles of Narnia Soundtrack

I found You in the most unlikely way
But really it was You who found me
And I found myself in the gifts that You gave
You gave me so much and I

I wish You could stay
but I'll, I'll wait for the day

Chorus
And I watch as the cold winter melts into spring
And I'll be remembering You
Oh and I'll smell the flowers and hear the birds sing 
and I'll be remembering You, I'll be remembering You 

From the first moment when I heard Your name
Something in my heart came alive
You showed me love and no words could explain
A love with the power to
Open the door
To a world I was made for

Chorus
And I watch as the cold winter melts into spring
And I'll be remembering You
Oh and I'll smell the flowers and hear the birds sing 
and I'll be remembering You, I'll be remembering You 

The dark night, the hard fight
The long climb up the hill knowing the cost 
The brave death, the last breath
The silence whispering all hope was lost
The thunder, the wonder
A power that brings the dead back to life

I wish You could stay
But I'll wait for the day
And though You've gone away
You come back and

Chorus
And I watch as the cold winter melts into spring
And I'll be remembering You
Oh and I'll smell the flowers and hear the birds sing 
and I'll be remembering You, I'll be remembering You 

And I'll watch as the sun fills a sky that was dark
And I'll be remembering You
And I'll think of the way that You fill up my heart
And I'll be remembering You

I'll be remembering You
I'll be remembering You
I'll be remembering You

I'll be remembering You

When I Was Four-and-Twenty

From the last silly post that had me taking an online quiz and finding out that I acted like I was twenty-four years old, comes now this new entry about a song that came out when I was about that age and bawling over the movie "My Best Friend's Wedding".

I'll Be Okay
Amanda Marshall 

It's time to let you go
It's time to say goodbye
There's no more excuses
No more tears to cry

There's been so many changes
I was so confused
All along you were the one
All the time I never knew

I want you to be happy
You're my best friend
But it's so hard to let you go now
All that could have been
I'll always have the memories
She'll always have you
Fate has a way of changing
Just when you don't want it to

[Chorus]

Throw away the chains
Let love fly away
Till love comes again
I'll be okay

Life passes so quickly
You gotta take the time
Or you'll miss what really matters
You'll miss all the signs
I've spent my life searching
For what was always there
Sometimes it will be too late
Sometimes it won't be fair

[Chorus]

I won't give up
I won't give in
I can't recreate what just might have been
I know that my heart will find love again
Now is the time to begin

[Chorus]

I can't hold on forever baby
I'll be okay.

Well now.  That was fun!  I bet girls who are old enough to remember that movie have also memorized each song in its equally famous soundtrack.  I think this was the only original song in that compilation.  The rest are re-makes.  But I know them all by heart.

There was a time when I couldn't watch that movie without shedding a tear.  It was a comedy, for crying out loud.  My best friend lent me her copy so I could desensitize myself, so I watched it nightly for a straight week.  I wept every time.

More than a decade later, I saw it again on HBO.  The song is right - I eventually became okay.  I survived up to the last scene without crying.  I saw how selfish Jules had been, and un-romanticized Michael, the sports writer who was going to marry a college student and ask her to give up her career, and who was blind not to see that he and Jules were perfect for each other.  I hated him for the tender moments he shared with Jules just when he was supposed to be focused on Kimberly, and for not choosing Jules.

I am okay about the movie.  As to the reality, I'm getting there too.     

For Fr. Geoffrey

There's an e-mail that's circulating that begins with the sentence, "People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime."

It continues to state that when someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed. When that need is fulfilled, they leave your life. Their purpose is extinguished.

People come into your life for a SEASON because your turn has come to share, grow or learn from them, or from each other. You will enjoy their company, but only temporarily, for a fixed period of time.

LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons, things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. I reckon this refers to friendships that stand the test of time. I have been blessed to have these kinds of friendships, and today I want to write about one very special person who has helped me to grow spiritually, emotionally, and even physically (by encouraging me to go the gym regularly in order to release stress and feel better about myself).

We often do not honor the people in our lives enough. Or at least we do it after they've gone. I'd like to honor someone who to me is a friend for a reason, a season, and a lifetime. He's leaving the Philippines by the end of this month after a six-year missionary duty. He's going back home to Australia. Even though we'll keep in touch, I know that it won't be the same. I have to thank him now. I have to recognize how good he has been to me now.

I met him four years ago, in October 2004, at the Lingkod National Leaders' Training Conference in Iloilo. I was told by my confessor, Fr. Steve, that their order of religious priests was tasked by the bishop to take care of our sub-parish (how blessed I felt, how specifically loved by God, for it was an answered prayer to find a home in my own parish). He brought along with him to Iloilo a priest who was to become our assistant parish priest. I was shy to approach him, for he was six feet tall, and spoke English with an intimidating (to a Filipino) Australian accent, but I needed someone to talk to, for Fr. Steve left that conference early, and that week I heard the Lord inviting me to give up my career as a lawyer to become a full-time missionary. I needed someone who could understand and give me wise advice.

I looked for him, introduced myself, and thus was prayed over for the first time by Fr. Geoffrey Coombe, mgl. It was a day of retreat but I could not sit in silence. I needed to speak out, to ask and express how I could be called to serve God in that capacity, when all I could see were the obstacles before me.

Thus began four years of pastoral care under him. Fr. Geoff guided me through a six-month period of discernment, through five-minute chats after the 6 p.m. mass, which I could attend regularly then as I worked a few minutes away from home. He checked up on me, prayed over me, shared his experiences with me, and discerned with me. I knew he was God's gift, for I really felt God's love through him. I looked forward to sharing my reflections and realizations with him, for he directed me gently but firmly towards focusing on the Lord and not on myself.

While I was a Lingkod staffer and was having difficulty reconciling that with being a lawyer, Fr. Geoffrey continued to be my spiritual director. I sought him out to sort me out, for it was good to have someone outside of my ministry who was objective enough to point out what I was being blind to. He taught me to discover my gifts and to share them at the appropriate time. He taught me to deal with the burnout I felt after giving to the point of exhaustion. He showed me how I could serve without losing myself.

Fr. Geoffrey also encouraged me to serve at the parish. He invited me to give my first Life in the Spirit Seminar talk in Tagalog, gave me a pamphlet about being a Lector at mass and then gave me a regular assignment, and sat down with me to discuss his dreams for the youth of our parish. This was before Bro. Daniel Strickland and Fr. Brian Steele came to take care of the Youth Ministry for our new parish.

Being an architect and an artist, Fr. Geoff had a wealth of knowledge and experience to draw from, and that was exactly what I needed to discern my career. In deciding to leave Lingkod, he prayed with me. In looking for my next job, he prayed for me. He gave me books to read and asked me to submit reflections, just like a patient teacher to a wayward student.

He is a quiet man with a deep prayer life, and it is a blessing to be one of his directees. Yesterday, the first of October, about four weeks before his flight back to Canberra, I told him I felt like I graduated from a course from the Fr. Geoffrey Coombe School of Pastoral Care. I wanted to make him proud of me but I was nowhere near sainthood and still unsure about many things.

He told me that what was important was that I grew to be more honest in my relationship with God, and that I knew how to love even if it was painful and complicated. He felt his time here, in my life, was up too, and he was happy to endorse me to my new spiritual directress, a Cenacle sister. He believed in planting seeds and leaving them to grow.

I will miss having Fr. Geoffrey a text away to pray over my concerns, from the mundane to the melodramatic. I will miss seeking his advice and hearing his voice that did not ever judge me, no matter how disobedient I had been to God. I will miss his creative homilies. I will miss his Powerpoint presentations that illustrated deep Catholic teachings in a way that young people and young souls would understand.

He is moving to a new ministry and is very excited about it. He is excited at how God's plans would unfold for me, he said. I sit here today wondering what my next step would be, but grateful, very grateful, that for the past four years I have had someone to guide me, listen to me, and pray with me. I will continue to consult, or maybe inform, him over major decisions of my life. But even if this friendship is for a lifetime, I recognize the reason he was here, and the season we shared, as one of God's greatest blessings.

I dedicate one month of saying goodbye to him, made up of despedidas from all the groups that would organize it for him, highlighted by my family's first piano recital, with him and a few friends as audience.

Fr. Geoffrey, thank you for being a part of my life, in the context of the Parish of St. Benedict, Ang Lingkod ng Panginoon, Youth Alive, the Disciples of Jesus, and the Posh. I will never forget everything that you taught me. God bless you on your new ministry. And... see you in Canberra! :-)

Picking Up the Pieces

Finally, I was prevailed upon to play the piano again, for a one-night engagement, here in our living room, as part of a family recital for a dear friend.  

I have a confession to make.  I never play because I don't think I'm good enough.  I'm not concert pianist-level.  I'm never going to make it to Julliard.  So I quit while I was still ahead, and opted to finish Business Economics, instead of taking up a Minor in Piano, which a friend of mine actually succeeded in doing.

It all came back to me tonight when I started practicing "The Poet's Harp" (Op. 38, No. 3, composed by Felix Mendelssohn) a beautiful piece from my college days.  After four tries (should be ten times, according to my piano teacher-mother), my neck and shoulders hurt (I can hear her reply - that this is due to my wrong sitting position), and I felt like I had wrestled with the notes.  I had to stop and play something easier, something I had memorized like the back of my hand, J.S. Bach's Two-Part Inventions, until I checked the pieces and the actual notes, and realized how wrongly I had been playing Nos. 1, 4, 8, and especially 13, all these years.  Like a friend of mine from a choir told me years ago, practice makes permanent.  I did not practice perfectly and so the effect of that mistake is permanent.  Unless I practice the pieces correctly, "ten times".  I stopped after an hour, for I could not hear the music anymore.  I also noticed that my piano teacher from UP's Extension Program had encircled parts where I made the most mistakes, and consciously or subconsciously, I hit the wrong notes on the exact same parts of The Poet's Harp.  Talk about repeating one's mistakes over and over again.

I will try again this weekend, and hopefully, I will not resist anymore, and will not end up feeling like I had just been on a boxing match with the piano.

There was only one man who was able to bring not just me back in front of the keys, but also my mother, who is even more of a musical perfectionist than I am.  One man, a good friend of mine who is leaving the country, requested a recital for his farewell party, and I could not help but oblige.  He also convinced my mother, who in turn encouraged her grandsons (the current performing stars of the family) to play at least two pieces each.  I don't know how to say goodbye, to face him and thank him for all that he's done for me, to wish him the best in his further studies, to ask him to write to me often, to memorize his face so that I don't forget.  I will just pour my goodbyes into The Poet's Harp.  I asked him to paint me something as a remembrance.  He is an artist who has stopped painting due to a new vocation.  I don't know if he will do his part of the bargain, but I sure am doing mine.

In the movies, goodbyes are so poignant.  They bring out the best memories and make the characters realize their worth in one another's eyes.  

In the movies, rusty musicians play gloriously in the end, and frustrated artists create masterpieces.

This is real life.  I don't know how this will end.  But I will try to enjoy the journey, and not commit the same mistakes I've made in the past.