mega-ness

Thursday night.

I spent my whole day at the office updating the directory for the research department's biggest project, the top 1000 corporations for 2008. Since I couldn't take as much responsibility in the project such that I might be pulled out of the department any time, my temporary boss asked me to help out with the phone calls instead. Given the 1000 corporations, Judy and I had to call each company, check if we have the right phone number and address.

Since it was also Thursday, our cell group day, Ate Rona and I decided to buy something for Ate Beth's birthday. I left the office earlier than usual, went straight to Go-Nuts Donuts and bought their Mix-n-Match treat. By 5:30pm, I was already headed for home and expected to be at the church before 7pm.

A few minutes before seven, rain started to pour. A few minutes more, the roads were flooded. Quite shockingly, I have never seen that road get flooded with the 18 years that I had lived in Cainta.

Then, I started to pray. More than that, I was singing in my head. Though it has been raining this month, God has not let me go in the flood just to get home. I had never been stuck anywhere in the rain and I knew, at that time, God was not going to let anything of that sort happen to me. In other words, I was singing praises. I have always been in love with the rain and it has never been a pest in my life.

By the time I got to Bayanihan (where flood is most likely deep), the jeep to where I was didn't have any problem and I was praising God even more.

My mom texted me a few minutes after, telling me my dad was going to get me at the subdivision gate. After waiting for about 30 mins, I saw my dad in a raincoat holding my pair of slippers. That meant only one thing. I was going to go in the flood. Oh no.

We started walking near our old church building. It was flooding alright, but it was only less than 6 inches deep. I was still happy.

By the time we reached San Francisco Street, oh my, the flood started to climb up to my knees.

By the time we were walking in front of our new church building, it wasn't just flood. It was a mega-flood. Tne waters had reached half-way my thighs. It was still raining. My bag was already wet, and did I tell you? I was wearing my favorite blue skirt that day. And it was just flooded, it was a flash flood. The water current was strong that I had to walk really slow in fear that I might slip (and drown...)

What was even funnier was that I was reminded of how I praised God a few minutes before I started walking in the rain. And I knew, someone wanted me to take back my praise.

Instead, while I was walking through the flash flood, I was singing. From the verses of Close to You, I headed for the notes of For All You've Done. Though it was a pest that I was walking inches deep in dirty flood water, I knew what it felt to be a David, singing praises to God despite the whatevers in life. And to that, I was even more glad.

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.