transitions

The first week of school (last week) and the 2 months of summer seemed, to me, to be ocean miles apart. It seemed long ago when all I had to do after work was to watch TV until midnight (unless I had freelance works due). I've finished the last two seasons of Heroes and latest two seasons of House. As always, I am updated in Naruto and Bleach. My routine is now back to normal, that is, start the day early and end it late. And I am not complaining. I've learned to love this life; I like learning.

The hardest week of school (aside from exams week, of course) is the first week. As in most things in life, transitioning from one thing to another, or from one kind of life to the next, is the hardest part. It is the twilight zone.

At first you can't let go of the past just yet. Then you have difficulty adjusting. It always seems like you are not ready. (I'm just talking about school here, though I might sound like talking about life.) The vacation time should be enough for me. I cannot recharge forever, even rechargeable aa batteries need to be pulled off.

You cannot always be prepared. (Now, I'm talking about life here.) But what can we do? Perhaps take a deep breath and face everything head on. What else? Before we know it, it's over.

together

How much does it take to give up one's dream? Well, I'm not too idealistic to think that no one would exchange their dream for something more, say, luxurious. I see people everyday going on about their lives trying to make it big in the corporate world, forgetting that they once dreamed of being an artist or a musician. Practicality has a way of forcing things into you, especially when you don't have the luxury of choosing.

I have a friend who loved his job in advertising. In advertising flags of perfume, fruit juices, or an MTV program, brainstorming, pumping out creative juices, and making brilliant storyboards were something he looked forward to every day, not to mention the artsy office and the weird hours of work. But it didn't sustain the needs of his children. So he packed his bag and worked somewhere else, boring but well paying.

Now, I have another friend. He had worked as an executive/manager for a long time, especially because he's brilliant in whatever he does. He wouldn't run out of companies offering him top positions. But one day, he just walked out of the office and never wanted to look back again. Now he's starting an IT firm of his own, just a small one in a small office, with very few employees. He wasn't earning much, or earning at all, from this office, and he recently turned down an employment as an executive in another company. Financially, now, he's struggling, but otherwise, he's happy.

This is not to say that one of them is right and one of them is wrong. It's a matter of what makes you happy, or better yet, what makes you not miserable the rest of your life.

I have always aspired to be a lawyer, but circumstances made me forget it. Six years after graduating, I was still working in a publishing company, well paid but unfulfilled. From time to time, it comes back to me---that I want to be a lawyer. But what could I do? I have responsibilities that no one would or could carry but me.

Two years ago, I finally did it. I finally told the family what I really wanted, and my grandmother pledged to help me if she can. I transferred to a less-pay but less-time work. Law school is very time consuming. Earnings dwindled significantly, and sometimes some would think that we wouldn't have to suffer like this if only I were focused on work. It gets to me sometimes, but I am bent on finishing what I have started.

I would be on my third-year now, very thankful that I made it this far and did better than I expected from myself. Perhaps I am really meant for this one, I thought to myself sometimes. Now, I am facing a dilemma. I would have to let go of office work completely, but I am afraid that freelance jobs would not suffice for a family with two sick parents. Then again, I guess I have to do this now or postpone my dream. Well, this dream of mine has been long overdue. I hope it's not too selfish to quit my job. We'd just have to make do on what I'd earn without it.

I realize that dreams are not meant to be achieved alone. People need understanding and support, and sometimes sacrifices, especially from family. We could not do it alone.

I met a (suicide) bomber

At around 315 am, my friend and I were already at the Victory Liner bus terminal in Cubao to get on the 4 am trip to Baguio. And about that time, the bus was already fully booked. We have to wait for the 5 am bus. For us, that was really frustrating. And so did the man in line behind us felt.

He was wearing a white polo shirt and carrying a suitcase and another hand-carry bag. Although he didn't look like a rich businessman with great management jobs, you wouldn't get friendly with him either. He's the serious type. He asked us (more like confirmed) if the 4 am trip was full, and we said yes. He said the Genesis bus line still has the 4 am bus. We asked him if he was sure. He said he was. So we agreed to go there. It's on the north-bound lane in EDSA, whereas the Victory Liner bus is on the south-bound lane. Inarguably, we could walk to there.

But the man talked to the taxi parked outside Victory and told the driver to bring us to Genesis. My friend and I didn't know how to react. First, we didn't want to spend money on taxi fare. Second, he's a stranger. But our better judgment failed us, and we got on the taxi. (Although frankly, I didn't have second thoughts. I felt he was harmless. lol.) He asked if we were from Baguio, and we said no. Then I asked him if he was from there; he said he's going to Pangasinan, and if he fell asleep on the bus, he'd go to Baguio. Then he said, he just got home from... but he stopped talking just before he could say a place.

We got to Genesis just a few minutes after. The man took a thick fold of money just cramped together from his pocket (I saw 500 bills!) and paid the cab. Once we reached the cashier, we learned that the 4 am trip was also full. We again agreed to go back to Victory. I told the man that maybe we should walk, but he again called a cab. He told the driver to bring us to Victory, but to drop by a fruit stand first. Now this time, we said it's okay, we'd go straight to Victory. Of course, the fruit stand was another matter. haha.

He said, okay. He gave us a thousand bill to buy two tickets for him, because he wanted the whole seat to himself then told the taxi driver to bring him to Farmers (the fruit stand). Before the cab could leave, I asked for his number, just in case we'd have to go somewhere else and could not wait. He said, "ok lang yan. makikita ko kayo," then left.

At this point, my friend and I couldn't help but smile in amazement about this man. Why would he give us a thousand bill just like that? In fairness, he made our otherwise surly morning to something interesting. We made speculations on what this could man be. My friend came up with an idea that maybe he's a (suicide) bomber. (Of course, you know a few paragraphs before, that my declaration in the title was not true... right?)

He went back to the terminal. We gave him his tickets, then we went to 711 to kill time. When we finally sat on our seats on the bus, we noticed that there were two people across us. Well, that should be just one man, the stranger we just met.

Why wasn't he on the bus, after buying two tickets and after exerting efforts to get on the 4 am trip?

My friend checked the spaces below the seats. There were no black bags left hidden. =)

his best birthday EVER

My "little boy" Eduard had his 11th birthday last May 6. Since it was a Friday, I got to celebrate his birthday with him on a Saturday night. (Actually, we bought him shoes Saturday afternoon.) And according to him, he truly had a great time, that is, compared with his other birthdays---his best birthday ever! So where did I bring him and his kuya ian? I brought him to a resto bar (owned by my friend's family).

We started the night with a dinner. We ordered the specialty rice, buttered chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, and something that tasted like pindang na usa. The food was great!

Eduard really ate a lot!

Then, I urged them drink with me in the bar! They were a bit shy at first...

But eventually learned how to hold a bottle!

Hey! I'm not that cool, you know? All we did in the bar was photo-ops. Dami namin pictures sa bar na yan! hehe. Maybe next time, I'd really teach them how to drink or to trailer hitch or to play pusoy dos, but not at age 11!

Just the three of us bonding

The fun part was when we played billiards. The three of us are novices, so we were all excited to hold a tako. And we were all eager to shoot a ball. But a single 8-ball game took an hour! And we downgraded our goal to this: just hit the ball with that white one!

At about 1 am, we finished playing billiards. We got exhausted after hours of playing and containing our excitement. It felt like we were pros the way we were too keen on shooting a ball. haha. Whenever we shoot a ball (is this even the term used for it?), it was hysteria!

Afterward, we conquered the videoke until 3 am, with yours truly leading the challenge. haha. We wouldn't go home if I hadn't received a text from an angry mother (my mother) telling me to bring the kids home. =)

Happy birthday, Eduard! I love you soooooooooo much!

tacsiyapo!!!

On mother's day, our family went to Isdaan in Tarlac. It's such a wonderful place. I wasn't expecting I'd really enjoy the place. I thought it was just like Dampa, where fresh seafoods and delicious meals are cooked. I was completely wrong. Isdaan was so much more (i'll make a post soon).

It was known for tacsiyapo. They have a wall there where you could throw plates, cups, and even a television just so you could release your anger or stress. Be it your inefficient cable or xbox live subscription, the loss of you favorite NBA team, lousy boss, poor grades, or just your pure hellish life. haha. You have to shout "tacsiyapo" before smashing stuff against the wall.

You could buy the plates, mugs, etc., from them. Heck, you could even buy a TV to throw at the wall (if you're frustration is that big!).

Mugs cost P15. Plates P16. TV P2000.

Here are the pictures of the kids before throwing against the wall. When people throwing are supposed to be angsty, the kids were so happy!

a toast!

Here are our photos targeting all those things we're mad at.

College kid Ian targeting "Profs/Classmates"

Eduard targeting, well, the wall. haha.

I targeted "highblood atbp" (they should have changed it to cancer/kidney failure haha. On my next try, I also targeted "Profs/Classmates". =)

My cousin's girlfriend, manager of a computer sales company, targeted "abusadong customer" and threw the plate with feelings! Among the bubbles there, I think the most targeted, judging by the faded paint, was "mother-in-law" haha. You? What would you hit there?

choices, and lack thereof

Life is full of choices. Whether Coke or Sprite, liposuction or conjugated linoleic acid, nursing or engineering, stay or leave, single or married, fight or flight. Whether an optimist or a pessimist. Whether an idealist or a realist. You choose whether you'd be a hero or a villain.

But it's easier said than done, as most lines like these are. I know I'd choose Coke any time, but that's about the most decisive I can be. I think my life hasn't been much of a conscious choice, not to mention that this life has made me indecisive. Most of the time, I feel like I have no choice---everything's a matter of survival---and I think many people feel the same way as I do.

I know I've made choices I'm not happy with, but I think that they're the right choices. I guess that there's one choice I can't afford to be wrong with, and that is responsibility, although it sometimes is at the expense of choosing to be happy or choosing to be free. Then again, you couldn't also be happy if you know you failed in this one. Aha! Is there really a choice?

I may sound a little (or a lot) bitter, but at this point I am not. I have already accepted what fate has brought me, although I'm not sure how much longer this state would be. Perhaps fate isn't that antithetical of choices after all. And perhaps one day, I could freely make choices the way it's supposed to be. That probably again is one thing that we should always choose to have: hope.


(P.S. This a comment to eks' multiple choice.)

a quiet week

How did you spend your holy week?

I went home to the province (and I'm still here). Against my mother's complaint, I brought with me so many stuff and urban clothes, thinking I'd "seize" every day of this long vacation. I've been missing drinking alcohol and going home at 4 am. I also missed my old friends here.

Apparently, I only went out of the house twice. One was on Good Friday to "watch" the procession, at the request of 11-year-old Eduard. The other was on Sabado de Gloria, making our way to hundreds of people who decided to go to the same water park as the one we went to (it was really a hassle, but we enjoyed the day nonetheless). This was also at the request of the children.

I guess my plan to party didn't work out well. Apparently, I didn't miss drinking and partying that much. Is this part of growing old? Or perhaps this was really the normal me. I've spent almost every day here in a routine manner. Reading a book, watching DVD, watching TV, and reading a book---with meals in between, and almost all the time, with kids around.

I remember holy week last year was full of activities. Yes, it was a vacation week, but it was quite tiring. This one was more serene. And frankly, I enjoyed it more. =)

So, how was yours?