selfish decisions

A friend asked me recently, "What if I save some money to visit her and tell her how I feel?" I answered, "What's the point? She has a boyfriend and they have been together for quite some time now."

Call me a dream killer but allow me to defend myself on the argument. I do feel his need to express his feelings or he will forever have his "what ifs". But freedom of expression is not absolute, as my mass media law professor used to say. My friend had all the right to say what he feels, that I agree. But is this enough reason for him to actually do something? There is just a part of me that cannot find justice to the consequence his actions may be to the girl (who is a friend and a sister in faith), much more to her boyfriend.

asking God why

"Di ba sabi sayo ni God kayo? Bakit nangyari sayo 'to?"
(Didn't God tell you, you were going to be together? Why did this happen to you?)

I remember my best friend telling me that a few months ago. She, who recently declared that she no longer believes in religion or God, cares so much for me that I'm sure she did not state those words to offend God or my religion. It was an honest observation. Too honest in fact that I dreaded the day she will be saying this to my face.

But she did anyway. She had to. It was her being my friend. And this is also why I have always doubted telling her that the only reason I held on to him despite our complicated and seemingly unfair situation was that God wanted me to. She always had doubts with religion but she never questioned me for what I believed in.

Moses and the burning bush

I was listening to my soundtrack playlist on ITunes at the office and my Prince of Egypt album reminded me how much I enjoy reading about Moses in Exodus.

Moses, though prominent, is usually unappreciated for his short temper which actually led to not being able to step foot on the Promise Land. What I do appreciate in his story is how, despite attempts of denying his purpose, actually left his royal status and came back to Egypt only to obey what God had commanded him to do. He was not perfect, but God's ways in his life were undeniable and he stood up to be a man of God.

One of favorite stories about Moses is when he tried to outsmart God to send someone else to deliver the Israelites from Egypt which is found in Exodus 3. Of course, no one could outsmart God but I do not think less of him for even trying. And the movie Prince of Egypt actually illustrated God in this as fierce and firm yet also very loving and understanding of our doubts in this situation.

I always believed God wants us to be honest with Him, to argue with Him of our thoughts and opinion. By reasoning out, we would fully understand His ways to the point that we will never doubt. It is not a form of disrespect, but rather an appreciation of His willingness amid His greatness to have a relationship with us despite our imperfections.

resurrection song

Easter Sunday is the day we remember that God had raised His Son, Jesus, from the dead to signify that He has overcome death for our sins.

On Easter Sunday, while I was singing in church, I was reminded of the song "I'm Alive (Reprise)" from the Broadway musical Next to Normal.

The musical tells the story of a mother who suffers bipolar after losing her son, a father who tries to make his family feel normal, a daughter who wanted nothing else but her parents love and attention, and a son, who despite dead, has been treated alive, thanks to the mother. Next to Normal stages the struggles of a family when dealing with death, psychological disorder, drugs, grief and acceptance.

"I'm Alive (Reprise)" was sung by the son, Gabriel, to express that despite his father's denial and his mother's therapy that erased him from her memory, he still lives on.

When I imagined God singing this song, I am reminded that His existence can never be denied. No matter how we dislodge Him from our thoughts, the more that He will make it known that He is more than just man's thoughts. He is and always will be alive.

I'm Alive (Reprise)
I am more than memory
I am what might be I am mystery
Come closer, come closer

I am old as time
I'm forever young
I am every song that will stay unsung 

I'll find you, remind you

Until you name me
you can't tame me
This is one old game
I can play so well

I'm alive, I'm alive
I am so alive 

The medicine failed and the doctors lied

I’m alive, I’m alive,
I am death defied!
I'm alive, So alive
I'm alive

An inspiring painter

Local news reported inspirational Filipino painter Joey Velasco passed away on July 20. He died of kidney cancer complications yesterday afternoon.

I had the privilege to interview the great artist last year for a personality profile to be published in the magazine I was then working with. He warmly invited us to his meticulously designed home. As we entered his house, much of his paintings were leaned against every wall as they were freshly taken out of the package from an exhibit in Cebu.

He truly had an amazing story to tell, much of which were already featured in the news (e.g. Probe Profiles). He was not born an artist nor did he never had formal training in painting. He described this talent as a sudden God-given gift that had saved him and could save others by sharing through visuals of the Lord’s love.

I asked him if anyone had offered to buy his paintings. He told us of a time a great patron wanted to buy his most famous painting Hapag ng Pag-asa. He was at the point of selling his painting when his grade school son left a note for him. I had the privilege to read his son’s letter which he took out from his pocket aloud for the group.

His son, only seven then, begged his dad not to sell the painting to anyone as he will work hard to earn a great deal of money to be able to buy painting. I remember myself in tears as I handed the letter back to Joey.

Early this year, he gave me a call. It was even embarrassing that I forgot who he was at that moment of the call and he had to remind me that he was “the painter”. We talked a few about the article on him and he then asked me of my work in the magazine. When I mentioned that I had already left that job, he immediately mentioned that he intended to ask that I write for him a few essays on his paintings. He wanted to provide an artist perspective of his paintings through words.

I’ve always wanted to get back to him on that as he said there will be another time for that. Obviously, there will not be another time but his offer then inspired me to try art reviews as well.

I will be posting a few essays on some of his paintings that touched me as a tribute to the painter that has inspired me to write.

three drops of tears

It was midday and I was at work. Though I know there is so much that needs to be done, it wasn't as immediate as the term "now" would imply. Besides, procrastination is a stage we all enjoy, especially when you have tons of work.

Seeing myself at that stage, I looked for a friend to talk to. One friend, online in Facebook, sent me a message. This was the distraction I needed. We talked about a lot of things that afternoon.

Of course, there were times my boss would give me instructions and thoughts on the issues the magazine has to cover. Just as he was about to leave, he wanted me to forward all the emails I sent to possible contributors. This is aside from the tag line for the magazine he wanted me to think of, and the blog posts and updates of vendors, activities and what else is there that he wanted me to upload. Obviously, I have not done a single one of them. Maybe he realized I wasn't doing anything work-related, I thought to myself.

I looked back at my computer to see if my friend had written any message right after my boss gave his talk.

And there I read my friend's message: "He left."

I knew he was leaving. God has been telling me for the past year that this will be happening, and I guess I should have been expectant of such a message. Besides, he himself told me he was, that is, four months ago.

Actually, it was the only thing he told me regarding this trip he is having. I must admit, I tried to dig a little deeper, but I guess I'm not as skilled as I thought I'd be. Without having any idea of what is to happen next, that is aside from his leaving, it only made me feel that I should be more than the unresponded messages.

"He left."

I left the room in fear of a public display of whatever reaction I was going to have. I rushed towards the comfort room to have more privacy and started to call God. I went down on my knees to hear what He was to say. And there were tear drops.

One.

Two.

Three.

I stood up, checking myself in the mirror if the drops had made a smudge of my make-up. There were so much to do, writers to contact, blog posts to write. I looked at myself in the mirror once more and smiled. If I were the unresponded messages, you mean nothing more than just three drops of tears, easily wiped out and barely noticed.

hallelujah chance!

If you are a Jdorama fan like me, the first thing that would definitely come into your mind reading these words is Ken-zou and his efforts to go back in the past and change things so that his bestfriend would love him instead.

I have been a fanatic of the series, really. In fact, since I have been the source of recommendations for DVD marathon episodes, I have used this position to influence people to patronize such a wonderful story. True enough, everytime they hear my ringtone in which Iwase Ken shouts "Hallelujah chance!", they would be frantic while enjoying the rush of thoughts it brings them.

I thought it was a simple fanatism.

Being a Christian journalist living a day at a time in faith, I take opportunity of every chance I get for a coverage, or at least get a hold of whoever official related to foreign affairs. Even if it were a mere ribbon cutting, photo opportunity or what else not newsworthy there is, I'd be there just to get a hold of anyone.

I have actually had days when I had no concrete plan of how and where to get a story. And then, a sudden coverage would come up and I would find myself writing stories to be passed a few hours later. I find myself mused with the fact that there is always a chance, an opportunity for me to survive this daily grinding. I know and I cannot deny that God is and will always be there to help me survive. And I have actually learned to remind myself of God's providence to the birds where it know not where to get food and yet they still manage to survive. How far more will He provide for human?

Hallelujah for the chance.

I'm currently on my 6th week on the beat and I have been able to pass articles daily. Though most of the times I pass them late, I am still thankful I was able to pull out a story, to have them submitted and sometimes, if lucky enough, would get it enough.

I'm always excited for text messages, as it is the door of chances for me; a spokesperson texting for Somali pirates updates, my friend reporter telling me of a coverage, or my editor sending me to another out-of-my-beat coverage. Whatever it is, it signifies my chances of survival and I'm happy for it.

Hallelujah chance.

to my editor

After a burst of tears, a word from God, further realizations along with moments that urge honesty last Sunday, I am ready to be terminated from work.

I am no egotistic person not to recognize how incompetent I had been in work. Working in the beat for almost a month now, I was only able to publish two stories on paper, and around six more on the net. With a quota of two stories a day, six days of work a week, this is a really low average.

I have had good coverage, but if someone else had been sent there, my editors would have gotten a better output compared to all the crappy articles I have done.

I'm no good writer, I always knew that. It's the love of writing that makes me stay in this field of arts but even before I graduated from college, I knew I will never be one of the best writers in my batch.

I have been a waste. The money paid for my salary has not gotten its worth.

Sunday work dreads me. In fact, I hate it. I feel I'd rather live with exact means in a ministry, than to be journalist.

Although to defend myself, my beat had never been easy. With officials who hate interviews, a bureaucratic agency and kill-the-young principle of certain reporters, I live with the story fed to me. I have learned to ignore or minimally use press releases. Very few press officers remember me. And I still have to admit, despite the stress and shame I feel every time I see my editor, I'm still happy I am in this paper. I am very blessed to have a very patient editor, and a newspaper who is teaching me of journalism standards I have not seen in any newspaper in this country.

The only reason why I have not resigned is because I know it is God who has given me this job. It has been difficult but He has shown His providence as well. I know for myself I will not be the one giving up on what God has given me.

Then again, I have never been great in this field, and my rational mind tells me I doubt I will ever be. If it God's plan to have me terminated, I am ready to accept that. If my editor tells me that there is nothing for me in this field, I am ready to accept. And by the time he tells me this, I have a lot of thanksgiving to tell him, not to make him retract but to recognize the good things this job has brought me.

If it is God's will, I am ready to accept my termination from this job. It is never mine to take.

surviving

After exactly two weeks in the beat, like a fish taken out of the water, I am trying to get all the necessary air I can get to live as long as possible.

I have been bombarded with press conferences last week that I am usually assured of at least one story everyday. And how I wish it would go on until I decide to resign from work but then, it's just a wish.

I am starting my week with nothing, a blank paper. I checked out the newspaper where my friend is working, only to find out she does have stories to pass and they do actually get published. And I will not withhold from her the credit she deserves. She is excelling in the beat.

I'd like to think life is unfair, that she gets stories and I don't. But then, I'm just entering my third week on the beat. Aside from her, I've only had two friends in the beat, one would be my newspaper's photographer.

I opened all my electronic inbox in hopes to find a press release to start off the day. If I could get a lead of something, I might actually have something good to write on for the afternoon. But no, all I get are messages telling me of blog entries.

I checked on the embassy websites in hopes to find something new. Aside from the transcripts of interviews one of my editors had with the Australian Trade Minister, I didn't find anything else.

I went back to my mother, feeling depressed. And when I found myself alone, I broke into tears. I didn't really understand why but now, I am admitting that this job is killing me.

But then, life goes on. I am no quitter. I do not see myself backing out in the middle of any battle. I left and headed for the beat office.

Sure, I had some ideas on what to work on but never got the courage to do it. A few minutes after two in the afternoon, the beat spokesperson texted, informing the release of Filipino seamen in Nigeria.

I was happy enough to realize that I have a story for the day. But thinking that I had started passing two stories last week, I simply do not want to slow down the momentum.

I found a press release from the vice. Although I tried making it not a press release, circumstances drove me to passing it without getting an expert's opinion.

It's still depressing to find myself passing crappy articles. Then again, I shouldn't be complaining at this stage. I was able to pass two articles. That's what's important. Getting it published will come eventually.

I will get there someday.

just got killed

I would very much admit now that though I was not able to pass an article daily last week, if the managing editor had been there, I would have resigned or received a memo for my incompetency even before the week ends.

It had been frustrating then, but it would been even more if the managing editor had not been in Europe last week.

By the time he got back to work, I was filled with events and big time press conferences that I had been able to pass at least one every day.

Of course, much of what I had planned still were flushed in the toilet for either lack of newsworthiness, lack of facts, or simply never followed up.

Given that Friday was supposedly the lightest day of the week, I was truly thankful enough that I still had an event to cover, which meant a sure-ball article and I will still have enough time to follow up on stories I've been thinking to do.

Then again, everything just seemed to fade away so sudden.

Who would have thought that I could never get anything from an ASEAN event? I have been into the health beat for the week and I'm pretty sure I have enough knowledge to go about the press conference. I called up my editor to slug in my story, only to find out it was not worth the internet space.

Allow me to insert this here. This was the only time my editor really talked to me about my beat. Much of the phone call we had for the past few days were "this is my story" and "ok". But this time, he was telling what I should always be looking for in my beat, which is basically, "What will the Philippines get in this?"

With our phone conversation this afternoon, I was able to realize how vague and superficial ASEAN statements could get such that I couldn't really find anything concrete for the Philippines. I'm sure there are, but with less than an hour of open forum to a secretary who never really gave in to interviews, there wasn't enough opportunity to probe in these questions. And so, my story was scraped but he also gave me the feeling that it's ok since I'm just starting to get in the beat.

By the time my friend and I were in a taxi to get to a netshop, the desk texted me, telling me that my managing editor was looking for my stories, and should I further emphasize this, STORIES.

I was obviously obliged to call him and when I did, I realized I was talking to him without any story in my mind.

As expected, he was frustrated and started questioning me on what I had been doing the whole day. I had to explain the delay of schedule for the press conference and my attempts to look for a story even during the morning.

He wasn't that mad, but I remembered from him is that I should be treating my day as if no events were to happen and therefore I should be striving hard to get a story. The good part here though, is that he said since this was the first time, he's going to let it pass and instructed me to call him if I was able to come up with a story (which is an hour before the deadline).

I was scared really. I knew he was right and I needed to hear that. My editor and the managing editor has some sort of balance that both made me start moving on and try to do better. Moreover, I saw the blessing that has hidden from me last week, that if he had been there, I would have been dead by now.

I was killed today, yes, but it put a lot of pressure on me and I was still able to pass two stories for the day (although one of it is 30mins late). Welcome to the journ life of the business paper.

being a reporter

Being a journalist is not a far-fetched idea for friends who've known me and have been with me since time and memorial. Studying the craft for five years makes people think that I have been equipped with the necessary principles and skills to become a true journalist.

Yeah, right. Who ever said it was going this hard?

But then, to give credit to all my professors in college, journalism was never easy. Doing an article daily and living each day at a time may be stressing but students could really get use to it. They did not lack in reminding us of the perils of the system, not just the political but the media itself. With the communication theories, ethical principles and journalism artciles we've done in the past, how can the work field be so different?

Haha. It is. And my stress level had never got up this high, with my appetite shifting and my mind rejecting food as it is filled with plans and ideas for stories instead. (And by the way, I am a stress eater)

From the very moment I wake up, my mind worries of the stories I need to do, much of them I don't know where to get, where to look for. As I worry, I start praying hard, telling God to just grant me with stories that will get me through the day.

Around eight in the morning, I venture the computer shop in hopes to find a press release in my inbox. If not, I'd really be hoping that the beat spokesperson would suddenly text for updates on overseas Filipino workers stories.

If I had not been successful to look for a story by 10, I start getting depressed with no ice cream to compensate for what I feel.

I tried coming by the office during those times, but with my computer located right behind the line of editors, the more I feel tensed. And by feeling tensed, I literally mean shaking. If I would want to get out the office, it would be very hard because I had to pass by my editor's table and he would usually look at me every time I walk there.

If by 0ne in the afternoon, I still have no story (which by the way usually happens), I feel like I want to hide. It's a feeling of shame, embarassment of admition of incompetency that I just want to fade away.

Getting out of the office is not that different actually. Being assigned in a beat where most reporters are rather old, new reporters are not really easily welcomed. The press office is fantastic. Computers are available. Newspapers are on the desk. A television (and I think cables for PSP) is ready to use. Phone lines are everywhere, and the best part, the room is air-conditioned. But then, no one usually comes there, unless something important is going to happen or somebody wants to sleep during office hours.

Courtesy calls for the big people in the beat are simple fantasies for new reporters. The only event that I was able to see any official at the building is when the secretary was about to leave the building. I had tried asking permission to even at least, meet the spokesperson but no one ever allowed me. In activist terms, the agency is very bureaucratic and the media is expected to be simply an information dissemination agent. Probing is, I guess, discouraged.

So how had I been amidst the pressure and the beat, I'm trying to survive. Ergo, I must survive. I know very well that God had given me this job and to give up so easily is by far giving up on what God wants for me. Anyway, I'm just on my first week. Who ever said the first week was going to be easy? In fact, it might take me a month or so for just adjusting. Then again, being a christian journalist is never easy. I am obliged to live each day at a time with stress but still and always in faith.

I will survive, sing it with me :D

super blessed! (part 2)

A few days before my grandfather's (mother's side) birthday, the family decided to have lunch at my grandparents' house.

Before I go on telling the story, allow me to provide a little context of the family. My grandfather (we call him Papi) is a devoted Catholic. My mom became a Christian through my dad a few months before they were married and basically, Papi hated that. Let's just say the grandchildren had some emotion impact on the grandparents that we were included on gatherings. He still doesn't like my dad as much though. Anyway...

We were at the dining table. My mother announced that I just got a job this week. Without looking at me, Papi asked me where and what kind of job I would be doing. I told him I'm going to be a reporter for a business paper. He asked what exactly does a reporter do. I told him I have to write articles that are aimed to be published on the paper. He looked at me with some concern and asked if the pay was going to be on the basis of the published work. When I told him no, he started eating once more.

After awhile, he started saying that's very good. I'm going to be on a good track. By being exposed with a variety of businesses, I would be able to know what kind of business to put up and how to handle it. He kept saying very good.

He asked me what will become of my studies. I told him I just graduated last April so I'm all for working.

The only advice he could give me as he said, if I may quote him, is "Don't fall in love seriously." He said it will keep me from aiming higher things in life. I think what he really meant there is that I should not hurry to get married.

I've always had that pressure of becoming the better person in place of my dad, especially in front of Papi. Obviously, he knew very little in my life, little in fact I doubt if he ever knew I transfered schools four years ago. Hearing these words which is basically the only advice he had given me for the past 22 years, I definitely will never forget this episode in my life.

super blessed!

This week, I am proud to say, have overflowed me with blessings.

I got a call from a business paper last week telling me I was to have an interview last Wednesday. Come Wednesday, I was face to face the paper's managing editor. He asked me the basic stuff, like why I chose to apply for that paper, where else did I apply for work, and what was my thesis about. He also inquired if I were an activist but aside from these, most of what has been said in the interview is about the newspaper, the reporter's working condition and what to expect if I were to work there.

Now, I have to make a confession. I don't think I did good during the interview. I was, the most, honest such that I told them the reason why I applied for that paper is because I felt like it and my dad always dreamed that his daughter would be a business reporter instead of going into politics writing.

Wednesday night, one of the editors to where I had my internship called me up to tell me I got the job at their organization. Of course, I was happy indeed but since the managing editor of the business paper told me that they'd call me the next day, I had to be honest to tell him I want to wait for the result from the other company.

I got a call from the business paper Thursday afternoon telling me I got the job.

Now I have to be honest. I love where I had my internship. It was a blessing during the time I was out of focus and I had more than one priority in mind. Though they are not strict with the time at the office, I had learned a lot and the experience is something I will always remember. And I was actually happy to settle with them. But then, the opportunity at the business paper came.

I've always wanted to write for a newspaper, a broadsheet to be exact, although I really think I do not have the ability for such. I am not a good writer (especially if compared to my batchmates) and I have a lot of other things in mind, like the church and my other commitments with God. I also had some apprehension if I would really get into too much politics like I did when I was in the council (because I know for myself I will have that same passion for action which will put me in a difficult position again).

The business paper offers a good pay (better than I had hoped and prayed for). Since it is a weekday paper, much of the work will be done on weekdays. Although Sundays could be in danger to sacrifice, the managing editor told me that ever since he was assigned to his position (which is since 1992), he only had two reporters that resigned because Sunday was taken away from them. Writing for this paper will put me into politics but not as much as other newspapers and my concern for direct action will not be triggered too much (I hope).

This opportunity is a clear-cut blessing which I cannot deny and I am just simply happy God has put me in this. I know it's not going to be easy but I think I'll just be too happy to think about stress. Anyway, I've been stress ever since I ran for the elections. How different will be?

to visit or not to visit?

I really find myself weird and sometimes, I think it’s good to ask why I am like this.

My mother has been texting me this morning while she is still in the hospital which is a clear manifestation of her being bum. She’s also been joking a lot, which makes me think maybe she will be crazy after all.

However, her boredom usually also signals her longing for a visitor. Since my dad has been at the church all morning, she has no one with her except the television.

One of the girls’ grandmother and my sister is at the hospital at the very moment. My brother wants to visit her sometime as well, although I doubt if he would be able to since he has long days at school. My youngest brother misses his mommy and whines that he visit her as well but since he has exams this week, I don’t think we can afford to make him get out of the house.

And I? The best word to describe it is “kebs”. Don’t get me wrong now. It’s not that I don’t care. It’s just that it’s isn’t so necessary. It’s not like my mother is dying already. I guess I’m pretty satisfied to know she’s in a normal condition and do the things I have to do here at home.

Yes, I know. I can be so detached. I may be like my dad who worries but I’d rather worry alone and isolated. It’s weird and sometimes I hate myself for being such.

Luke 10: 38 – 41 describe a family in Bethany when Jesus came to visit them. While Mary listened to the words of the Lord, her sister, Martha, opted to do the household chores and eventually ended up complaining because of all her worries about unimportant yet rational details.

This passage always reminds me of who I am. Even if Martha was the bad one when the story is told to grade school kids, my mother had still taken my name from this passage. What we all find quite amazing is that I am very much like this Biblical character.

Maybe this sort of detachment isn’t anything to do with how my parents raised me. Maybe it’s more of my concern for other details while my mother is away. Maybe I can still be describe as the bad one in the family but it doesn’t mean I don’t really care; a sort of irony probably. At some point, it disturbs me but what can I do? This is how I am, although at times I try harder. Or best yet, maybe we should kill the Martha to whom my mother got my name. Haha. Parents, be careful of what you name your children. :D

side effects of surgery

While the Filipinos are busy reacting on Mrs. Arroyo's State of the Nation Address (SONA) and despite that I was watching it at home with the slightest feeling of boredom, my mind was off somewhere else.

My mother just had a hysterectomy this morning, a surgical procedure removing the uterus. Although my mom looks ten years younger than her age, this wasn't really a surprise for us. We just saw a menopausal episode of her friend earlier this year and we knew it would be coming to her soon. My dad seems extremely worried and I'd have to admit, I am more concerned with my dad than with my mom.

She has been visiting her doctor for some time now and the doctor would also usually talk to my dad, especially when the option of hysterectomy came up. Since an important part of the woman's body is to be removed, there will be changes with her hormone levels which also meant changes with her mood.

Now, I have to say this. My mom has very obvious mood swings when she has her period, which is not different from the ones her daughters experience like extreme depression (and liters of tears), easily irritated, sudden outburst aggravated by almost anything and the list goes on.

I guess my dad is very worried on how extreme unreasonable she could be and this could affect almost everyone, her family, the people in the church, the children of our preschool & their mothers. and god, there's even one kid who's an extreme brat.

However, her other doctor also told her that she was already medicated with some hormone medicines which meant the side effect of her surgery will most likely be similar to what she is now. Let me tell you, my mother has been extremely happy these past few weeks.

So now, I'm torn. I don't know which one to believe, my dad or the other doctor. At some point, I want to deny the idea that it could be worse but logically speaking, I have not heard of a hormonal imbalance story that turned out positively. yeah, yeah, me and my over concern for details. But then, I still have to prepare myself if it gets worse.

Now I'm thinking. I am no fan of my mom's mood swings and ever since I graduated, I would usually opt to either keep quiet or stay away when my mom bursts. Maybe this time, I can no longer escape that. Since she might explode at anyone, anytime, I feel like I have to be there even more, to mediate or worse, do the things she's suppose to do so that others won't be prone to her outburst.

details, details. Sometimes God reprimands me of my overly concern with details since it puts Him out of the picture. My mom works full time at the church and if this surgery will negatively affect how she relates to other people, I think it's a crap if God doesn't think of all these. He will never put things to worse (Jer. 29:11).

Then again, I'm just plainly worried.

what happened next

The next few episode of that first job interview were really quite interesting.

By the time I got home Friday afternoon, I was actually almost decided that I will never return to that office for a job again. (hyberbole here, please note :D ) However, it was a dilemma as to how I would tell my supposed editor about it. Without any idea what exactly to say, I delayed telling him until I was suppose to be at the office.

Actually, I got no courage to tell him. When my parents arrived Saturday afternoon, I asked my dad to help me compose the most appropriate message to send my "editor" only to realize, I was only in fact in need of moral support. After sending him a thank-you-but-I'm-not-going-to-take-the-job text message, I left my phone at home and headed to the park for a volleyball game with some of my church friends.

Around ten in the evening, I received a response from him. He told me to pray about it and think about being even a researcher for the paper. I thought, since he mentioned something about praying, it was the best time to explain to him that this isn't actually the job God was referring. And this is what he texted me next: "You do not need to wait for manna to come down from heaven. You should labour, work and find it, find it hard."

Now, I've had to admit, I found the message quite amusing in a sense. But instead of making an issue out of it, I reiterated my point that I've prayed about it and I'm backing out.

This is what he told me next: "You are backing out from blessing. I don't get it. There are millions of unemployed Filipinos. I consider my job as blessing. Even Paul work hard and did not rely on offerings."

With that message, I almost flipped. I have no intentions to question whether his job is a blessing or not but the idea that I'm going to be really overworked and underpaid in that company doesn't make it a blessing for me. There will be great experiences for me, I'm sure but the expenses cannot compensate the burden.

At the same time, the manna delivered everyday for the Israelites was not a simple compensation from God. He was the One who brought them out of Egypt despite their contentment of their conditions. God had promised them of a better life, and although the journey for that was not easy, He showed each day that they do not have to work very hard as to have doubts that God was not providing for them. God will always be with them even in the wilderness.

Paul worked hard for God's ministries. His job as a tent maker was a simple detail of the very great mission he had for the Lord. It coincided with God's plans. It should not be taken out of context.

Of course, I could not tell me editor that. I think it would be very disrespectful of me still. Whether it were a form of manipulation or simply sincere, I dare not question. I opted not to reply.

I prayed once more that night and that was when I heard this song.

Sing to me the song of the stars
of Your galaxy, dancing and laughing
and laughing again
When it feels my dreams so far
Sing to me of the plans
that You have for me over again

The best thing that happened to me, I realized I was an Israelite journeying through the wilderness and God has and will be providing me the manna that I needed.

my first job interview

I received a text yesterday morning asking me if I could come by their office for a job interview. Although the text message had the name of the one who sent it, I absolutely had no idea what company it was or what position I was supposedly applying for.

Well you see, my former bible study leader had referred the person to me. I had my share of doubts before I actually sent my resume. The only thing I knew about this was that this is a new broadsheet and they were looking for business reporters.

If my dad was given the power and the choice, he would have opted me to become a business reporter. I think he believes this beat is safer and offers bigger wages than a reporter interested in politics.

Anyway, I decided to come for that interview. I called the guy who texted me and as it turns out, the name of the paper is Philippine Gazette, a new broadsheet to come out next week. They have nothing to do with the former Philippine Gazette paper and they are in desperate need of writers. Their office was to be found at Port Area, Manila.

I went in their office, which is basically a newly renovated but not yet finished structure beside Manila Standard Today office. The guy introduced me to his boss. They looked at my resume and asked me to do a sort of rewriting the lead as an exam.

This exam turns out to be lifted from the Associated Press (AP) stylebook that describes very loaded leads. What was quite weird is that they expected me to rewrite these leads exactly how the book rewrote it. True enough, AP is AP and it has been an international standard when it comes to news writing but to expect an specific type of answer omits the idea of a writer's own style. Then again, who am I to complain?

I talked with the big boss of the newspaper once more. As it turns out, I was applying as a contributor and therefore my pay would be based on my published articles but here's the catch. I am obliged to be in their office seven times a week. I'd be in training for a few weeks as a researcher and web content organizer. It will be only after sometime that they'll decide if I can be trained for the Senate beat. After a few more reminders and stuff, they wanted me to start this afternoon.

I honestly don't mind the low pay, as long as I don't find myself spending more than what I would be getting. I'd rather write for a newspaper, like how I first intended when I took up journalism than getting a good pay in advertising.

At the same time, working as a researcher and being in training for the Senate beat sounds too ideal. I know for myself that's what I wanted to hear but I never imagined myself working seven times a week. And with an undetermined pay, I feel like I was going to be harassed!

I left the office with an uneasy feeling, as if I was getting sick, as if my knees were getting weak and my lungs are having a hard time doing its job to help me breathe. I never thought of working somewhere at Port Area. I had the image that most newspapers which are based there as tabloids (although not all of them are). As I was waiting to get a ride, I am reminded of Weng who is working for a development company in Ortigas. She's a writer working for the night shift. She has a really big pay and gets free food most of the time. If she can get a job like that, why can't I?

I was on the LRT on my way home and I felt like I literally wanted to cry. This is the same feeling I get every time I feel like there's something wrong and I can't exactly point out what is. I guess it's one of God's ways of making me realize what I'm getting myself in. It's a disturbing and depressing feeling. I never want to go back to that office again.

another story unfolded in front me

yet another story unfolded in front of me. actually, i did not want to have anything to do with it. as i would usually say, i'd rather appreciate it from a distance. the more i be with people, the more it makes realize the details and lessons of my own life.

we never really got along very well. i find him very obnoxious at times, especially his political views. he does very irritating jokes that i couldn't really find funny. plus, he even described talking to me as if he was talking to a 27-year-old adult, six years older than his age. we won't talk as much as he would with other people. there are only two things we'd actually talk about, politics and other people.

she's three years older than me, got a good job, and has good sense of humor but can be quite a grouch because that's what her profession calls for. we don't talk much actually but we do get along very well. i know a lot about her life, the same thing goes for her but we never actually confirm these things to each other.

what unfolded in these six months was something beyond crossing cultural communities.

he would talk to me about it quite more often than he would with my kuya. i guess it must have something to do with the points of view and the perspectives i get from the weird people around me. he'd sometimes ask me what i think about what my parents think. i would usually tell him he's concerned with too much details, the very same lines i would hear from God last year as He tells me to let go and go with His flow.

i'd see her worry as i had been last year. i mean, who could blame her for feeling lost and depressed in such a situation. but then, god has a plan. he's not playing game with people's emotions.

it feels weird actually to have a story like unfold in front me, as if the story were telling me something beyond my eyes can see, as if God Himself is talking to me in the complicated situation that He had led me.

ten again, we all have our own worries. But who are we to question what God unfolds in us? If there was something I got from all these, it a form of reaffirmation, of control and at the same time a tinge of hope that God has His own ways and what He is about to do will never be boring. it's an episode that we must all wait with anticipation, with hopes that in His proper time, we will all have our own share in life.

something so wrong

About a year ago, my dad had forced my brother and I to get a student driver permit. He aimed to have me driving by the time I graduate. And since I have been so busy on my last year with the student council and my thesis of course, I have not had the time to actually learn how to drive.

By summer vacation, my dad had been so busy with church stuff that we only had one chance to teach me whatever it is that I have to learn. And since my dad buys the big cars, I had to learn to drive with a Pajero.

So ok. The Pajero is actually lovable. It's very easy to handle. The breaks are good. The condition of the clutch is good. So what's wrong?

Actually, I couldn't reach the clutch very well everytime I had to hit the breaks. In other words, I guess I'm too small to drive the Pajero. Kuya Jonell says I should learn using automatic cars instead. He even volunteered to teach me given that my dad didn't have time. However, both my parents disagrees of course.

Anyway, our student permit is to expire this friday. That means we have to get a non professional licesnse before it expires or else we do the same process all over again. (and crap, I really hate LTO when it comes to lines). The big question now is what did we do?

To make the story short, I am currently holding onto my driver's license but I still don't know how to drive. So ok, I know how go left & right, forward & backward without pushing the breaks. That's it. I've come to join that bandwagon that I wanted to change for so long and I was forced to benefit that sort of faulty and crappy system of government agencies.

This is life in this country. It sucks.

nanood ng Prince Caspian

"Buti na lang hot si Prince Caspian." Ilang ulit na sinabi ni Jam iyan noong nagpalipas kami ng gabi sa kanila.

Pero aaminin ko, buti na lang talaga cute si Prince Caspian (Ben Barnes). Kung hindi siya cute, baka nawalan na talaga ako ng ganang manood.

Paano ba naman kasi, hindi ko talaga nagustuhan yung unang movie ng Narnia, The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. Parang walang dating, walang magic, walang x-factor. O siguro dahil nabasa ko yung libro at napanood ko yung stage play ng Trumpets (Kamusta naman! Trumpets na yun! One of best stage performers kaya sila!) Isa siyang disappointment at hindi na-capture ang mga importanteng scenes ng pelikula.

Anyway, medyo nagdalawang isip ako kung papanoorin ko ba talaga itong Prince Caspian. Hindi ko rin masyado nagustuhan yung libro. Na-frustrate na lang ako na yun na ang last adventure nila Peter at Susan, gayong si Peter pa naman ang favorite character ko dun.

Siguro din, hindi ko talaga masyado naintindihan yung libro. Alam mo naman sa relihiyon namin. Dahil kilalang ka-relihiyon namin sina J.R.R. Tolkien (Lord of the Rings) at C.S. Lewis (Chronicles of Narnia), may mga hidden biblical messages ang mga kwento nito. Tulad na lamang ng The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe na tumutukoy sa salvation kung saan ipinapareho si Hesus kay Aslan na siyang namatay upang iligtas si Edmund.

Ang nakita ko lamang sa Prince Caspian nung binasa ko ang libro ang usapin ng spritual warfare. Ngayon ko naiisip, dahil ilang taon na rin ang nakakalipas nang basahin ko ang libro, maaari ngang bata pa ako para maintindihan ko ano ba talaga ang warfare na tinutukoy dito.

Ayun na nga. Kasama ko sina Ate Ems, Leeloo, Twinkle, JD at Kristia kahapon upang manood ng Prince Caspian at natuwa naman ako.

Naging loyal naman sa libro ang pelikula, although hindi ganon ka-perfect. Bagamat sa estasyon ng tren nagbukas ang pinto papunta ng Narnia, hindi ito tulad ng ipinakita sa pelikula. At walang naganap na romantic something kay Prince Caspian at Susan (Anna Popplewell). Marami ring mga eksena sa libro na tinanggal nila, tulad ng kung paano pinalaki si Caspian ng kanyang tiyo at tiya at ilang eksena kung saan parang nagpakita si Aslan sa mga magkakapatid ngunit hindi masyadong pinansin. Hindi rin talaga kasali si Susan sa digmaan tulad ng ipinakita sa pelikula.

Mas na-capture ng Prince Caspian ang mga eksena at mensahe ng kwento. Sa totoo lang, naging malinaw sa akin ang usapin ng spiritual warfare habang pinanonood ko ang pelikula. Mas naintindihan ko ang kahalagahan ng paninindigan sa buhay kahit na nagiisa ka lang sa pinaglalaban mo.

Nakita ko na rin ngayon ang mga pinagpareho ng Two Towers ni Tolkien at ng Prince Caspian ni Lewis, na may haring kinakailangan i-reclaim ang trono, nagiisang sundalo bihasa sa pana, isang napaka-importanteng espada, may aalis na kasama sa kalagitnaan ng digmaan at babalik ng may mga kasamang mga kakamping puno.

Bakit kelangan may reclaim something pa? Bakit kelangan almost failed yung digmaan bago darating ang mga bagong kakampi? Bakit laging may pana at lovable ang humahawak ng pana? At bakit kelangan laging puno ang tatapos ng digmaan?

"Masyado ka lang nag-ooveranalyze," madalas sabihin sa akin ni Weng. Siguro nga, masyado ko lang din binasa yung mga pelikula hindi ko na natutunan enjoyin.

Buti na lang cute si Prince Caspian. Lalo ko pang kinatuwa, cute din pala yung gumanap ni Peter (William Moseley). Buti na lang din talaga.