30

Today, I turned 30. I said goodbye to the decade that has been my 20s. My 20s was all about putting my passions into good use and making sure that I'm earning out of it. It was moving from one job to another until I found my rightful place under the sun. My 20s was all about building relationships and seeing them crumble right before my eyes. It was all about letting go and moving on. My 20s was all about testing my ideologies against the daily grind and see what worked and didn't. It was about learning from experiences. My 20s was all about angst, rebellion, heartbreak, and anger, yet at the same time it was all about knowledge, redemption, healing and purification. Together, they have formed the wisdom that I know will help me survive my 30s.

Today, I turned 30.

End of the Semester

PSY 101 and The Teaching Profession classes are over, but graduate school classes are not! No sembreak for you and for me, and the entire human race!

This Demigod of Chopsticks

Three days before I first met my boyfriend, I attended a seminar in CPU (coincidentally, his alma mater) where I learned supposedly how to balance my life and my work. I expected it to change my life. After all, I was living a hectic lifestyle of a single woman who is teaching and studying at the same time. I was a tad disappointed though. It did teach us how to balance the checkbook and budget the time for work and family, but it would have been nice if they taught us how to balance our emotions. Yes, they should have included that as part of the topic -- "Let Your Emotions Do a Balancing Act."

Love seems to have a way of catching you off guard. The last thing I expected to do was fall in love, and swim in this torrent of strong emotions. I ended up getting drowned. And I never expected it to happen during lunch where chopsticks would play such a dramatic role.

Feast for the Eyes. Are those hearts I see in your eyes, My Love?
I bow before the Universe for sending me this demigod of chopsticks.

Sometimes, what you thought would be such a mundane activity would in fact, turn out to be the most life-changing. 

Beautiful Boy

I met a beautiful boy today. It's not a chance meeting. Somebody arranged it; the heavens arranged it. My tummy did mad somersaults when he smiled, and my heart started hammering when I heard him laugh. I long to meet him again and to just get lost at the sight and sound of him. 

But my confidence is failing me. 

Oh dear. 

Tired

The daily grind is consuming my existence these days that I just want to throw in the towel and go somewhere special. I haven't taken a holiday last summer vacation because of the summer class. I only had about two weeks for my vacation before SY 13-14 started, so I haven't really taken a good rest. On top of that, I feel tired and stressed with the number of things I have to finish these days. So, I'm looking forward to attending that seminar about balancing one's life and work. That'll be on Aug. 5-6. I hope I'll learn a lot!

How Long?

Man, I'm beat. Tomorrow is another day, but it's going to be no different from today, what with the hectic sched. To top it all, I'm taking 9 units of graduate school classes. Great.

This is going to be my busiest semester.

Challenge

And so, there it was on my hands... My enrollment receipt. I enrolled in three subjects this first semester. That's equivalent to 9 freaking units. It's suicide. I wanted to turn around and drop at least one subject. But I didn't, so tomorrow I'll be staying in school from 7:30 AM to 4:30 PM. But I want to challenge myself and with me being inspired to finish my degree, I know I'll manage.

I'm proud of my batchmates, Jenifer Tuazon and Rolando Libutaque for passing their compre! Now, they're going to do their dissertation. I'm really happy for them! I'm not far behind. Give me two years more and I know I'll get my degree. Watch out, NBC!

Independent Caller

She woke just in time to respond to the nagging pressure from her kidneys. Her cellphone was vibrating on her bedside table. Aside from the unbearable desire to pee, this was what woke her up. The caller is not listed on her phonebook and the number has a +49 area code.

She never had a caller with this area code. Could this be her mother? But her mother who works in Hong Kong has a +85 area code. Maybe it's her friend from Norway. That's strange; why would she call at 1 o'clock in the morning? Perhaps, it's her aunt from Singapore? No, that's not her area code for sure. She felt a sense of dread when she thought that it's probably the people from the scholarship she applied for. Are they calling to confirm her acceptance? Her palms started to sweat and her heart skipped a beat, but before she could answer the phone, it stopped calling just like that. She got lost in the silent darkness and for a moment she forgot that she's supposed to go to the restroom. Nah, it's a probably just a prank call or somebody who dialled the wrong number. It was best that I didn't answer it, she thought.

After relieving herself, she went back into a fitful sleep.

The next morning was a holiday, Independence Day to be exact. Lying on bed, savoring the hassle-free morning, and mulling over the activities she planned for the day, her thoughts drifted to the unknown caller. She got up, opened her netbook and checked the +49 code in Skype. Her friend from China popped her a message. She's not in the least interested to have an early morning conversation, but perhaps she could talk to her about the early morning call. So she typed back with an enthusiastic how are you and asked whether she knows what country has a +49 area code. Her friend responded Germany.

That's strange. She doesn't know a single soul in Germany. Hitler maybe and Anne Frank...

Her friend asked her why she didn't answer the call. She replied that a call from an unlisted number early in the morning gave her the creeps. It reminded her of the movies where the caller's just standing with knife ready to strike behind an unsuspecting victim. Her friend said, grow up. Next time he/she calls, answer the phone, ok?

Ok, she replied. So that day, Independence Day, she missed called the unlisted number twice. Once at 9 o'clock in the morning and once at 7 o'clock in the evening. That'll encourage the caller to call back, she thought.

True enough at 3 o'clock in the morning the next day, the same number called and woke her up. The conversation went like this:

Caller: Hello, why did you call me today?
Callee: You called me first.
Caller: Oh, I'm wondering. How much do you charge for your English class?
Callee: I haven't thought about that. You're from Germany, right?
Caller: Yes.
Callee: Where did you get my number?
Caller: From the Internet.
Callee: And what's your name?
Caller: Matthias. M-A-T-T-H-I-A-S
Callee: How old are you?
Caller: I'm 30 years old.
Callee: What are we going to use if we're going to have a class? The phone, the Internet?
Caller: Skype
Callee: Why do you want to learn English?
Caller: Just for communication.
Callee: Actually, it's 3 o'clock in the morning now.
Caller: I'm sorry. I'll call again some time.
Callee: Yes, please do. What time is it there?
Caller: 9 in the evening. I'll call again some time.
Callee: Please call three hours earlier or so. Goodbye.
Caller: Goodbye.

So, the unknown caller turned out to be a 30 year-old German named Matthias who wants to learn English. She was excited with the prospect of teaching someone from Europe that she could no longer sleep. Later that day, she asked her friends how much she would be charging this German for a one hour English class. Her colleagues suggested $10/hour. Europeans are rich anyway. She thought $7.00 is fine, but her friend said stick to $8.00. That night, she anticipated the call.

When the call didn't come, she decided to send him a message about her fee and she thought about the many topics that she'll be sharing with this German. She thought that he must be handsome since his name sounds handsome enough. His voice followed her throughout the day. It wasn't the nicest sound what with his heavy accent, but the memory's enough to make her smile.

She waited and waited for his call, but he didn't call. He never did.

At this point she felt sad. Did he think I was too expensive? She regretted the message she sent. She wanted to send her a message again, this time she'll say her services will be for free. It's just for communication, anyway. Besides he could use a friend, right?

But he never called again. And still with her sense of pride, she never tried to contact him, too.

Sometimes, early in the morning and when she'll have that nagging pressure from her kidneys, she would check her cellphone to see that maybe there would be a message from him or maybe a missed call. But no messages nor calls from him. There's only the silence of the night and that urged to pee. She feels utterly alone.

Thoughts on Retirement

What I like about being in the College of Education is that we really give time to celebrate and honor our retirees. The dean and the VIPs under her would set aside a day (they would usually coincide it with the COE general faculty meeting) to treat the people who have spent most of their lives in service (30-40 years of being in the university)

Today, we gave tribute to Prof. Lazarito and Dr. Morano. As the older faculty members gave their speeches and praises for the retirees, we the young faculty can't help but think about our own retirement. Even if we still have many years ahead, I can now imagine how my retirement party is going to be like. In my case, I'll still have 30 years to go before I officially retire and perhaps if God is good and if I'll still be healthy, then maybe He'll allow me to give service to the univ for 35 more years. I hope that my friends will still be around to give me a nice and warm speech about how I was as a teacher, as a friend, and as person in general. Maybe that time, I'll be crippled by arthritis and I'll probably be straining my ear to hear what the people are saying. Worse, with how I abuse and overuse my eyes now, I'll probably be half-blind by then!

Even then, I can't help but be amazed with the retirees. They've given so much to the univ and along the way of many years of teaching, they've built friendships stronger than any ties. I like that. I know I've made several friends already and I do hope we'll retire together. When that time comes, I'll be as happy to give speeches on their retirement party. 

Semicolon; My Favorite Punctuation

Don't you just love semicolons? It's a cross between the Zen-like meditation of a period and the Lamaze-like breathing of a comma: relaxed, peaceful and therapeutic.

It's a punctuation that asks you to take a longer pause and to calmly separate your thoughts from each other. It reminds us to take our time and choose our words and sentences carefully. It does not allow us to jump from one thought to another the way a comma would tell us to, or to keep on enumerating our thoughts (in jagged breaths) the way a colon would ask us to.

Also, a semi-colon looks sexier than any of the punctuations. Who wants to have the ghastly vampire bite of a colon, the tearful pauses of a comma, the condescending and selfish attitude of an apostrophe, the hyper jumps of the of an exclamation mark, and the drunk and incoherent garble of the ellipsis? The semicolon is even a perfect balance between the Yin and the Yang, if you get my point (thank you, Freud).

If the punctuations were in a classroom, semicolon would be an exceptional student. Why? She (I'd like her to be a strong female) is the ever meticulous writer carefully drafting her compositions and the cautious math whiz slowly solving her equations. She'll be a varsity player of the volleyball team and her eloquence will land her on a spot on the debate team. I bet she'll even be crowned as the Prom Queen what with her glamorous looks and star quality.

Know what I think? I think we should set aside a day in actual homage of this humble punctuation. We'll call it Semicolon Day, of course. It's going to fall somewhere in June because it's the middle of the year and semicolon is one balancing-act punctuation.

On Semicolon Day, people will be required to put on their best suits and dresses, and everyone MUST bring with them their sunny dispositions. Frowning will be a big no-no. People's conversations all throughout the day will be punctuated by semicolons:

"This is one lovely day; thus, I won't allow it to be ruined by the spilled coffee, by the traffic on my way to work, or by my grumpy boss."

"I hope everyone gets a bit of sunshine this Semicolon Day; a smile from me will definitely brighten up their day." (Flashes a smile to a passing stranger)

And everyone will flash their smiles to every person they meet and people will wonder why it can't be Semicolon Day everyday.

So you see, semicolons should be given the attention it rightly deserves. I think it's high time that semicolons come out of the shadows of colon, comma, and period. Semicolons deserve to make a mark, too and what a sexy mark they would leave!

Addict

My good friend, Graziella Sigaya made this photo collage of me. I'm sniffing a coffee creamer here because it smelled good, but I ended up melting the the contents of one packet in my mouth. It didn't taste bad either.

Summer Class 2013

I was at first hesitant to accept the subject, Children's Literature load this summer because I wanted to just read and write and sleep for the entire break, but it turned out to be one of the best summer classes I've handled so far. Instead of focusing on Western children's literature, I gave extra attention to Philippine children's literature which I believe was more fun and rewarding, not to mention nationalistic.

These are some of the pictures from the Literary Press Conference that served as their final exam. They gave such an impressive performance. The pictures are scanned from their documentation scrapbook that's why they're quite tiny.

Literary Press Conference (Philippine literary characters only)

Maria Clara and Si Malakas at Si Maganda

 A Surprise Guest! Sir Jan Raymond Cabangal, one of my first STs.

A bevy of characters

Clockwise: Lam-ang, Filemon Mamon, Lola Basyang, Darna, Bathala and Pinya

Psych Me Up

I started my Ph.D degree last 2010 but I haven't checked any of my grades so far. I just checked them awhile ago and I was so happy that I got a flat 1.0 in my Abnormal Psychology! It gave me an extra boost to finish this degree. After I checked my grades, one of my teachers/colleagues called to inform me that she'll give me a Psychology 101 load this first semester. I'm floating somewhere in the clouds now. I can't wait! I'm going to handle two of my passions - Psychology and Literature this schoolyear 2013. I won't fail my teacher. I'll do my best, oh yes, I will.

Six Degrees of Separation

The American band The Script gave a new take on Frigyes Karinthy's theory of Six Degrees of Separation by categorizing it as a break-up song. Originally, the theory says that everyone and everything is six or fewer steps away, by way of introduction from any other person in the world so that a chain of "a friend of a friend"  statements can be made to connect any two people in a maximum of six steps (Wikepedia). Ever wonder how you and your new Facebook friend has at least one or more mutual friend? The Six Degrees of Separation explains that.

The Script on the other hand used it as the six steps of getting separated from one's lover after a break-up. This song speaks true of what happens in most break-ups. Just listen to the song in this link: The Script's Six Degrees of Separation. Enjoy!

It's All in the Graveyard

My aunt once told me that praises and criticisms don't do anything to you. She told me this after a colleague whom I thought all these years was an angel, gave me such a whipping of nasty criticisms during the day of the Prom that  its stinging venom left me weak and dazed weeks after the cotillion and all the JS brouhaha had already long gone.

My aunt's remark surprised me. She is, after all a psychologist and my own studies of the human psyche led me to believe that praise can actually do a lot of things to the ego. The same is true with criticisms.

I guess now I understand what she means. If we know ourselves well enough, I don't think we need praises from others nor criticisms. If we know where we're standing and and evaluate our own strengths and weaknesses, then we don't need validation from others.

What I picture out is a balloon. When there's no air inside it, it's lifeless, shrunken, and wrinkled. It will never give joy to anyone who holds it. When we criticize someone, they become like this kind of balloon. That is because they allow one needle of criticism to poke through it. On the other hand, if you're full of air, there's a big possibility that you'll fly away and forget that you're not supposed to be up there in the clouds. Praises can do this to you.

I think the key here is balance and a good dose of self-knowledge. If I know myself enough, I don't have to feel bad when criticized nor feel extreme bliss when praised. See, I don't need to be a balloon because I can just be myself.

*********************************************************************************

I finished Neil Gaiman's the Graveyard Book tonight and the ending made me a wee bit sad. I was surprised that the author is a Newbery awardee!

"Face your life 
Its pain, its pleasure, 
Leave no path untaken."

This book's trying to tell me something about praises and criticisms in some way. Special thanks to my sweet little sister in Christ, Gabby Moralidad for lending me her book.

Globe Telecom Technician Incident Report

April 15, 2013

THE MANAGER

Globe Telecom, Inc.

SM City

Mandurriao, Iloilo City

Dear Sir:

Greetings!

I would like to address my concern regarding one of your technicians whose ill-manners and unpleasant attitude have marred my perception towards Globe Telecom employees, specifically towards the Internet technicians.

I am saddened that I was not able to get his complete name, but I am sure that you have a complete record of your employees and the clients that they had catered to. He is about 5’2 in height, medium-built, probably in his 40’s, and has a distinct skin allergy on his hand (I cannot remember if it’s left or right). If I will be shown his picture, I will definitely recognize him right away.

This technician has offended me on two separate occasions.

The first time was May of last of year (I can no longer remember the exact date, but I trust you have a record of it) when I had my Internet connected. My landlord did not allow him to connect the cables to my room through a shorter route; thus, he needed about two more meters of cable, more than that of what is supposed to be the required length mandated by the company. He told me that I will be charged for the extra cable and it will appear in my bill the next month.

I did not expect the extra payment so I asked a friend who used to work in Globe and he told me that there is no payment for anything else.

With that answer from my friend, I asked the technician if he can give me an approximate amount. He replied that it’s going to be quite expensive, that is of course, if he is going to report it. He gave me another option. He will not report the extra cable and all I have to do is give him an amount and I’ll be off the hook. I asked again how much I’ll be giving him. He said ‘biskan pila lang da ihatag mo a.’

At this point, I knew that the technician’s simply fishing for a tip, so I played along with his game. I said I’ll give him money for his troubles. But I was greatly irritated by his manners because even if he didn’t mention anything about an extra payment, I would still give him a tip.

When they were done with the connection, I handed him a plastic of fruits (freshly-picked tambis), but he condescendingly refused by saying, ‘Indi na a.’ His younger assistant, however appreciatively got the fruits from me and said thank you. When I gave him my ‘tip’ of P200.00, he pocketed it straight away without looking back.

That was my first encounter of this rude technician.

The second time was last April 6, 2013. I didn’t have an Internet connection for two days and he was once again the one who facilitated the connection. This time he had a different assistant.

After checking my modem, they went out and came back after about 20 minutes. He asked if I had load because he didn’t have load anymore and he still needed to call somebody in the office. I said I didn’t have enough load for a phone call. He replied that he’s just going to text. Thinking that he needed to communicate with someone regarding my connection, I reluctantly gave him my cellphone but I ended up texting for him because his assistant didn’t know how to type through touchscreen. His text went something like this (it’s quite hazy in my memory now): Tawgi na si Manok or Patawga na si Manok.

When the connection was ok and when they were bidding their goodbyes already, I overheard him ask his assistant, “May load ka da? Ma text ko.” His assistant gave him his phone. After a minute, they came back to check my modem again. The rude technician was talking to somebody on the phone. The assistant told me that somebody from Manila wanted to talk to me. The caller was a woman who wanted to know the details of the connection. One of the questions was, “Naka proper uniform po ba ang mga technicians?” The assistant was in his proper uniform while the rude one was not. He gave a thumbs-up sign to me and I resignedly answered, “Opo, nakaproper uniform po sila.”

Well, how could I say no? The loudspeaker was turned on and he could hear our conversation. I felt that I owe him so I didn’t give him a negative feedback. He’s not just rude, he’s also quite tricky.

With that, I believe that this technician deserves a disciplinary action for the following reasons:

1. He demanded an extra payment from me even if it wasn’t stipulated in any way that I will be paying extra for the connection. What he did was just plain bribery.

2. I find it improper that he’ll use my phone. Why did he have to use my ‘load’ by using my cellphone when his assistant also had a loaded cellphone? (Feeling close?)

3. I believe that as a client, I need to give my feedbacks of the service in private, free from influence of any kind. I find it improper that he turned on the loudspeaker of his phone so he could eavesdrop over my feedbacks and over the questions of the evaluator.

I wrote this letter because two incidents are enough for me to prove that this man’s ill-manners do not give a positive image to your company. I believe that I wasn’t his only victim. In fact, when I posted in my FB status about the incident, two of my friends expressed the same sentiments about Globe technicians (I like to believe that we encountered the same technician).

I hope that my letter be given a positive response and I also hope that I’ll no longer encounter this kind of technician in the future.

Thank you in advance and more power to Globe Telecom, Inc.!

Truly yours,

 (sgd.)

VAN KRISTINE L. MENDOZA

Globe Subscriber

Summer Break? What's That?

Earn as much as I can.

That's one of my goals this year. It's ranked twelfth out of my thirteen things-I-should-do for 2013. By earning as much meant extra work so I'll get extra pay. I should have heeded that adage which says that I should be careful with what I ask for because it might come true.

I was hoping that this months of April and May, I'll be staying at home and just laze around, do some serious writing, and pursue other hobbies. But, I was invited to teach summer class because no one else will take the load. My class is from 10:30 AM-5:30 PM with a one hour break in between. I'm teaching Children's Literature which is a first-time class for me, so no there are no powerpoint presentations that I could just rehash.  That means I'm spending a lot of time making my slides and also studying my lessons.

My weekend also isn't free. My colleague asked me to help her teach the online Long Distance class which will be a three-hour session every Saturday afternoon. Sure, I'll just spend three hours in front of the computer but my lesson preparation is going to be longer than three hours. I know it's going to eat much of my time.

Then, next month I'll be handling a two-week teaching class in Calinog campus which is again another preparation for me.

On top of that, I have my online night classes every weeknights. I also have action researches to edit.

I wonder why I'm doing this to myself. I'm not even financially supporting or helping anyone. It's just me, myself, and I. Really, I need more rest than money. The problem with me is that I can't seem to say no when someone asks me to teach this or that.

I guess, I'll just have to wait for another summer before I can do serious writing and do my other hobbies.

Who says teachers are lucky because they have summer breaks?!

Agony Hill

          I first heard of the word “Panata” and witnessed it all at the same time when I was in college. My classmate and I were 15 minutes early for a Mass and as soon as we arrived in church, a harmless decrepit woman dressed in white caught our attention. She was doing the Way of the Cross in her brown and wrinkled bare feet. When the congregation stood for the entrance of the priest, I was surprised to see her parading behind the good father, her hands solemnly clasped in prayer and her eyes fixed on the cross by the altar. She kept her distance from the priest by standing a few meters away, but when he delivered his sermon, she stood behind him again, all the while bobbing her head up and down in agreement to whatever the priest said. It was a peculiar sight: she, an old woman who could probably only speak and understand Hiligaynon agreeing to the Irish Reverend whose English had been garbled by the flawed acoustics of the church. Since most churches in Iloilo are frequented by the most bizarre worshippers, I dismissed her as another “buang.” My friend however, explained that she’s simply doing her panata.

          My poor grasp of Tagalog never made me think that the word has something to do with vows as in Panatang Makabayan. I later discovered, though that the word has a religious significance and the examples border from the simple like lighting a candle before the Virgin Mary on one’s birthday to the extreme like crucifixion and self-flagellation during Holy Week. I could not find a seemly equivalent Hiligaynon word for it, but it is synonymous to the “Panaad” of Cebuano which means ‘act of promise.’

            I would like to share to you how I made my own panata. Just like the old woman, mine is also doing the Way of the Cross, though not on my bare feet because mine involves climbing a mountain with a rather browbeating name - Agony Hill. For six years now, my faithful trek to Agony Hill on a Holy Thursday has become my spiritual retreat, a purging of the soul as I endured the summer heat and a yearning of the heart as I offered petitions. Because of these, the mountain has become my friend, a silent witness to my struggles of rising and falling and rising again.

             Six years ago, I first climbed the mountain after making the most liberating decision of not continuing my teaching contract in a Chinese school. I was no longer happy with my work so when March came, I felt freer than any of the graduates. I was still high on the feeling of being emancipated from schoolwork that I jumped at every chance of getting invited to go anywhere, thus, I ended up going with my roommate to Agony Hill, a rolling valley towering over the quaint town of Alimodian 25 km off of Iloilo City.

         For many years, Agony Hill had been cleared to serve the faithfuls in their Via Crucis during Cuaresma. To make the penitential rite more meaningful for the visitors, the local government of the town and the parish church erected huge imitations of each station of the Way of the Cross.

           As soon as I was greeted by icons of the first station, I whispered my petitions. I was in between jobs, so not knowing where my next paycheck will come from, I prayed that I be given a job that will financially get me by. When I reached the summit, I stood before the giant cross, invisibly opened my chest and laid forth all the desires of my heart. Suffice it to say that when June came, I was given not only a teaching job in my alma mater but to my surprise, I was also given a person to love. And so, my panata of climbing Agony Hill every Holy Week came into existence. I’ve also learned to love the mountain not so much for the expiation of my sins nor for the request of favors, but for the sheer joy of climbing it.

          My 2009 visit of the mountain was the most blissful climb that I did. I hiked Agony Hill with the person whom I thought was the One. We did the obligatory Way of the Cross, but my eyes were set on him and him alone. That time, I had a job that thoroughly gave me professional pride and I was secure in the arms of this man. What could go wrong?

           My climb the next year gave me that answer. Around February 2010, our differences took a toll in the relationship that I decided to end it. But for old time’s sake, I asked him that we climb Agony Hill again hoping somehow that we could piece back our broken hearts together. He did accompany me, but we no longer held hands and the conversations were punctuated by awkward silence. Still, I hoped and prayed that our relationship be given a second chance.

             By 2011, I was still in denial and I was still longing for the man who once trailblazed Agony Hill with me. With a heavy heart, I trekked the mountain with some colleagues. Again, I stood by the giant cross and prayed that he be given back to me.

             My prayer wasn’t granted.

             Last year, I’ve finally accepted the fact we’re no longer going to climb mountains together. Trekking Agony Hill with the colleagues who became good friends, I realized that it was I who was given the second chance - a chance to meet other people, to discover my passions, and to love myself again.

             This year, I’ll once again scale Agony Hill on a Holy Thursday with friends and I’ll continue to do so up until these able knees will allow me. It has, after all become my panata. But perhaps I’ll invite that guy who gave me flowers last Valentine’s Day to join us. And before the giant cross, I’ll once again send my petitions to the heavens, but this time like the old woman, I’ll be clasping my hands in prayer and I’ll be fixing my eyes on Him and only on Him. 

Agony Hill, 2012

Agony Hill, 2011

Agony Hill 2010

My ex was the one who took my 2009 Agony Hill photos. I'd rather die than ask for copies.

Agony Hill, 2008

THEIR STORY, OUR STORY

“The Four-Way Test: Peace Through Service”

           A long time ago, famine struck a land where two brothers worked as farmers. The younger brother thought that since his older brother had a bigger family, he needed more rice. And so at night he secretly carried one sack of rice to his brother’s storehouse. To the younger brother’s surprise the next day, he still had the same sacks of rice as he had before he carried one to his brother. So that night he set out again to bring his secret offering when he bumped into his older brother carrying also a sack of rice. The two brothers wept after realizing that both had thought of doing the same thing. That is, carry a sack of rice to each other’s storehouse with the thought that one needs it more.

          Ladies and gentleman, this is one folktale that clearly sends a universal message that when we think more of others and less of ourselves, we find a greater gift in our relationships and within ourselves, the gift of peace. But is peace really born out of service?

          Today, I am given the task of scrutinizing the phrase “peace through service.” And I will do this by putting it under the magnifying glass of the Four-Way Test. The questions are as follows: Is it the truth? Is it fair to all concerned? Will it build goodwill and better friendships? And will it be beneficial to all concerned?

          My dear friends, we all love to hear stories. Stories about triumphs of the human spirit amidst trials and tribulations have clearly been sources of inspiration. There is no other powerful example than a man’s life story to prove a point. Therefore, the four ethical questions that will be posed to me today shall be answered through the names of these notable men whose works of peace through service have forever been etched in the history of mankind.

          First, is it the truth? Mahatma Gandhi’s name echoes resoundingly to answer this question as his optimism led him to believe that all throughout history, the way of truth had always been won. He found truth through nonviolence, thus his efforts paid for the freedom of his country, India from the British rule. His philosophy of passive resistance transcended religious and political ideologies. We can win a person not through the way of violence but through the way of love, sacrifice, and service. His truth also became our truth.

          Second, is it fair to all concerned? Hasn’t Martin Luther King, Jr. exemplified this enough? His tireless service to end racism and discrimination in the U.S through peace efforts may have cost him his life but it started a movement that empowered the black community, thus encouraged the U.S government to abolish laws in black and white segregation. Peace through service transcends the color of our skin, the differences in our faith, abilities, and social background.

          Third, will it build goodwill and better friendships? Oskar Schindler, a German businessman saved thousands of Jews from the atrocities of Hitler during World War II by letting them work in his factory. When after the war he became bankrupt, the Jews in his ‘Schindler’s List’ - the Jews he helped, financially supported him and his family. Peace through service creates an effect of kindness and gratitude that ripples far beyond our own lives.

          Lastly, will it be beneficial to all concerned? Benigno Aquino’s struggle to bring back democracy to his country cost him his life but it gained back the freedom of the Filipinos against Martial Law. One cannot deny the fact that this man’s peace efforts have benefitted and will benefit the many generations of Filipinos.

          My dear friends, these are stories of ordinary men who made such extraordinary actions and because of that they became the movers and shakers of this world. We are no different from these men. We have in our hands the key to peace and that is through service.

          Let me go back to the folktale of two brothers I have narrated in the beginning. It was said that not long after, a church was built on the same spot where the brothers bumped into each other. It was because they couldn’t think of a holier place than that spot where the selfless act of service was exhibited. Ladies and gentlemen, may you let your every standing ground be a holy place of service. Act now!

A piece I wrote for Jeiya Nicole de Castro which won 1st runner-up during the 30th Rotary Four-Way Test Oratorical Contest held in Red Cross Building Bonifacio Drive La Paz, Iloilo City on February 8, 2013.

          

Pushing 30

30 isn't such a bad number, but when it comes to age it's I think where most women my age (late 20s) experience midlife jitters. It's the biological clock, for one. I know a lot of women who would like to have children before turning 30 because our eggs decrease in number as we increase in age. We'll have a slimmer chance of getting pregnant in our 30s than in our 20s. The problem, however is even if they're willing to have babies, they still don't partners! My issues on turning 30 has nothing to do with my ability to procreate, but with my professional productivity. I feel at this point in my life that I haven't accomplished anything "major" yet.

Last December, I asked a colleague if she can help with an oration piece. She asked, "Why don't you do it, Van?" I replied that I don't have much time and I don't feel very confident in my writing skills. She asked again, "So when are you going to start?" That made me uncomfortable because even if I want to do a lot of things in my career, I haven't really made an effort to start working on it.

Then, early this morning as I lay on bed contemplating whether I'll wake my sleepyhead students for a contest or let them sleep a few minutes more, I realized that if I don't start working on my dreams, I'll forever be stuck as a chaperon or coach to my students for the rest of my career. And as I grow older, my students will be getting younger each year. I don't want that to happen. As much as I want them to reach their potentials, their winnings and goals are not my own. I am just the "coach," after all. Nothing to be proud, really.

So what would I like to do exactly?

I'd like to write for a magazine. I'd like to be academically-inclined through researches and that involves writing, too. I'd like to get a scholarship in a university abroad and finish my Ph.D there. After which, go home and make a difference in the academe. I'd like to travel and see the Eiffel Tower, the pyramids in Egypt, the Angkor Wat, the Taj Mahal... oh, the whole world! I'd like to win an award for my causes.

But all is not in vain. I've started on seeing the world part. I've gone to Hong Kong, Vietnam, and Cambodia. I'm also trying to explore the Philippines now. I'm trying my hand on writing again and rediscovering the passion that has been slumbering for so long. I'm on the right track as far as my advocacies are concerned.

The midlife jitters sometimes get into my system making me feel insecure and hopeless. But I know that as long as I take each day as something to bring me closer to my dreams, I know I'll be able to achieve them all. Yes, I will.

Now, if only I can do something about that baby part there ;-).