Warm Autumn Ramblings

The clocks turned back an hour last Sunday. For me, this seemed like an official goodbye to summer in the UK. There have been other indications of summer leaving:

Like the frequent rainshowers (hello, umbrella and waterproof jackets)

Like the gazillions of leaves that you “crunch” on while walking. (hello, vacuum cleaner on my room’s carpeting)

Like the drop in temperature (hello, heater, jumpers, socks, socks and more socks)

Like the sun retiring early (hello, lamps)

Like the number of hot coffee and tea I have sipped from a warm mug (hello, caffeine!)

Saying goodbye to the summer months also meant one very sad thing for me—that is having to say goodbye to my flipflops pretty soon. I have been able to still wander around the corridors (and a few short trips outdoors) with it but my love for flipflops is not to the point of frostbite, so it will have to stay indoors or maybe parked in my room for sometime.

Not that everything’s all that bad now that summer is over—rest assured, the novelty of being in England has not exactly worn off. Autumn brings its own charms and most them are seen in the molten colors around me as I take walks. Thankfully the sun still comes out
most days. I also get to look “posh” ankle-length boots (bought from good ol’ ukay ukay) and nice jackets and scarves (courtesy of good friends).

Another hello that autumn brings is the warmth of new friendships. Having settled into the community life in college and finding your niche in it helps warm one up—it could be a hug, a cup of warm tea especially made by a friend, a special dish of extra hot Indian curry, a sweet, encouraging anonymous note slipped under your door, an exchange of private jokes and hand-signal greetings (too complicated to explain!), saturday DVD nights all huddled together in the warm TV room.

As a new friend would tease me when she clasps my perpetually cold hands, “Cold hands, warm heart.”

It’s nice to know that for every goodbye, there are hellos—and that for every draft of cold air, there is warm company to ward it off.

---and there's English (Part II)

...and I also learned that...

Bangers are not some kind of gang but actually something you eat (and we all have eaten it as sausage.)

Aubergines are what you put in moussaka and this makes it sound more posh than saying, “I put eggplant in my vegetarian lasagna.”

Barbies are not what little girls play with, in fact, kids are not allowed near it since its where they grill their bangers and burgers.

“Pee” is not what you do in the toilet but that’s the price range I can afford (and happy to pay for).

Chips are also made of potatoes but they are not thin and crispy (those would be crisps!)—and they are said to go well with fish and vinegar. (and I, of course, still prefer ketchup!)

Courgette sounds more romantic thus the Brits prefer to eat this than the humble zucchini.

Jacket potatoes do not mean fashionable spuds in leather, they’re just spuds baked in their skin. (Ouch!)

When you’re chuffed, it means you’re happy and not irritated or itchy with rashes.

Runs are not what you do everyday to keep healthy---in fact, if you have them everyday, you’d get dehydrated and have to admit yourself into the hospital (so be careful what you stuff yourself with!)

A garage is not where you park your car and leave, its were you “fill” your car and leave. (Fill it with…what? Remember the previous post? Yes! Petrol!! Well done!)

Powerpoints are not produced by Microsoft, but you need to get your computers plugged into them to use your Microsoft (or Mac).

A coach is not somebody who yells at you when you shoot the ball into the wrong basket, its what you might want to take when you need to go out of town.

A jumper is not the coverall Dennis the Menace usually wears—well, actually, he might need to wear a jumper when its cold…

A chemist is not somebody who works at a laboratory, it's a place to buy your drugs, I mean, your medicine.

A hole in a wall is not what you haunt for if you’re on a gastronomic adventure but it’s where you might need to get money from if you do go on one.

The Subway is where you get a nice (and pricey) sandwich and the underground is where you catch the trains.

Broody is not when you are in the mood to brood but when you are in the mood for a brood (ie. bushel of babies!)

I could go on and on…but hey, I 'm still learning! Cheerio for now, mates!

There's "English"--and there's English (Part I)

Last week, one of doors to the shower cubicle had a post-it sign that said ”Shower not in use.” I thought that was a strange—but I figured that maybe the lock wasn’t working and so you need to use that post to indicate when it's in use or when it's not. But since it wasn’t the shower cubicle I normally use, I didn’t give it another thought. Until one day when I was using one of the sinks in that bathroom and a bathrobed-Brit dorm mate came in and groaned, “Oh no, not again!” and left with a sigh for the other bathroom. It was only then that it dawned on me that “Shower not in use” actually meant it was NOT WORKING.

Obviously, there’s "English"---and there’s English—and no two are the same (nor created equal as the Brits would insist, and I know from experience since they have observed loudly that I spoke American English--observed with an accusatory tone, I might add).

I’ve learned that…

Rugby here is not to be sniffed or administered in “gaping” shoes, but actually it is all about grown men groping and clawing each other for the sake of an oval ball.

A bonnet is not where a bee flies into but where men stick their heads into when they're fixing their cars.

When you go into a surgery, nobody will cut you open, they might just check your tongue and make you say, “aahh.”

You can have dinner at lunch time and have tea in the evening, and be quite full.

A rubber is the innocent eraser and not something that controls population growth.

A boot is not what you give people who are not performing well but its actually where you stick your luggage in (or in the case of the Mafia, dead people).

The first floor is on the second floor and the second floor is on the third floor.

Half nine is not 4.5 but 9:30--am/pm.

People walk on pavements not sidewalks, and so do their dogs.

Brit cars prefer petrol to gasoline.

A crèche is not something you eat but it’s where you put your baby if you have to go somewhere else.

There is no yellow color on their traffic lights, only amber.

Afters are what you look forward to when you've finished your main meal but when you are dining with the Queen you will have dessert instead.

3 in 1 Meme!

Even with my assignments breathing down my neck, I know that I must respond to the three—yes, three!—tags from Ipanema over the past few months (read: centuries ago!!). My sense of duty and responsibility to my fellow blogger is strong and therefore cannot be ignored, so assignments can just wait a wee bit for now. Anyway here goes!

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A. I was given the Thoughtful Bragger, ooops, Blogger award which is my third award from Ipanema (and the forth award if I go back to childhood, this would include my poster-making win at elementary, I think I mentioned this before so you can see how pathetically thrilled I am!). So thanks, Ipanema, my friend, you know you are always welcome if you decide to visit the UK ( as if I have a proper home here, but will definitely make a cup of tea with a spot of milk, my lovely.) See how thoughtful I am? *wink*

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B. I was also tagged (also by Major Tom) to write about my second name (or middle name as some would call it), which I unfortunately do not possess and for this reason I sometimes get suspicious looks for immigration officers in airports because I obviously share my not so unique name with a couple of hundred other people. In fact, on my first trip abroad when I was about 17, the immigration officer in the then called Manila International Airport wanted to detain me because I shared the same name with a drug pusher. As if!!

But anyway, I have recovered from the so-called traumatic incident and so will simply give myself a second name and surprise, surprise, its GYPSY. *grin* So, okey, heeeere goes! First, the rules:

1. You have to post these rules before you give the facts.
2. Players, you must list one fact that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of your middle name. If you don’t have a middle name, use the middle name you would have liked to have had.
3. When you are tagged you need to write your own blog-post containing your own middle name game facts.

Here’s what GYPSY means to me:

G – gallivanting. As many of you know, due to my job (and my nature) I do a lot of travelling. Sometimes I feel like I can’t do anymore but when I do stay put in one place for some months, I think my feet literally itch. For a month now, I am “stuck” in Gloucester since travel is incredibly expensive here and I need to save up for it. So, to keep my feet from itching, I go out for long walks. In fact, last week, I walked around town for two hours (that’s a personal record)!

Y – you. I am almost always curious about the people I meet. I ask questions and wonder why they are where they are, who they are, and what makes them tick, among other things. The problem is that I'm a talker myself and if you share something that piques my interest, I would end up gabbing about it! Oh well..

P – peer. As in a colleague. I had a long talk with a colleague who insists that I should develop my leadership potentials, but I believe that I can be of better help to people by coming alongside them than by leading them. Plus there’s less pressure, at least, expectationwise!

S – space. Somedays it means outer space. Depending on my mood, sometimes I go off somewhere into outer space and end up asking the same question a few times before the answer registers. It’s a good thing my officemates are patient with me. Somedays this means personal space, I am an extrovert who has a pig-headed hermit living inside me, and its name is Gollum (my precioussss ssssspacceeee…..).

Y – That’s “why” in text language. I have been accused of being over-analytical sometimes. I like to ask why about a lot of things and sometimes it takes a long series of whys before my curiosity is satisfied. But after only a month here in the UK and with the demands of the course I am in, I might just get tired soon of asking why since the lecturers here expect me to answer my own question. But why?! *sniff*

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C. The third tag I got has to do with my deskstop. Boy, I feel like some celebrity being obsessed about by a movie magazine! (Humor me…!)

The tag calls for a screenshot of one’s own desktop, including all the possible icons thereon.

As you can see from my desktop--I am sooo missing the Philippines!!

Anyway, for those tagged, here's a complete set of instructions, please read this:

*Upon receiving this tag, immediately perform a screen capture of your desktop. It is best that no icons be deleted before the screen capture so as to add to the element of fun.

You can do a screen capture by:

1. Going to your desktop and pressing the Print Scrn key (located on the right side of the F12 key).
2. Open a graphics program (like Picture Manager, Paint, or Photoshop) and do a Paste (CTRL + V).
3. If you wish, you can edit the image, before saving it.

For MAC users: Press [ Apple] [ Ctrl ] [ Shift ] and [ 3 ]

* Post the picture in your blog. You can also give a short explanation on the look of your desktop just below it if you want. You can explain why you preferred such look or why is it full of icons. Things like that.

* Tag five of your friends and ask them to give you a Free View of their desktop as well.

And so…I am tagging Beng, Abaniko, Aleks, Ate Grace, and Jap!

Thanks again, Ipanema, for the tags! It was a fun diversion from my reading assignments!

Prayer on My Window

The prayer written on my window is in Portuguese. Inherited from a former student from Brazil. Perhaps it was written during times of loneliness, or times when her studies felt like it was too much, or times when all the "foreign-ness" around her seemed overwhelming. Then perhaps she felt she needed to look outside of herself and to God and how He would wish her to respond.

Perhaps.

And if this is so, I share her prayer. Here it is in English:

"Like a lighthouse that shines in the night,
like a bridge over the water,
like a shelter in the desert,
I want to be used in a way that pleases you,
in any place you might place me .
Here is my life, use it."

And I say, "Amen."

Hugging the Space Away

I had to be the shoulder to cry on last week to two new friends. One because of terrible news from home of a relative’s death, the other from having to say goodbye to her boyfriend who stayed only for the weekend. As I put my arms around each one, I felt very keenly, how I was purposely causing the “space” between to disappear. And for the first time in the past couple of weeks, I didn’t mind.

Space—a word that people do not generally associate with Asians. But as a friend once said, and only half-jokingly, “Those who generalize, generally lies.” How true! Because in my case, space is so important. If I could get a restraining order out and keep people at about an arm’s length away, I would…generally.

Now that I am back to dormitory living, space is fast becoming a rare and, therefore, precious commodity. When I was shown to my room a couple of weeks ago, I felt relief wash over me just realizing that I don’t need to share my room with somebody else. But the relief was short-lived since a closed door does not seem to guarantee unlimited enjoyment of private space.

Well, wholly my fault, too if you think of it. My extroverted nature started making friends to the detriment of my introverted side. And so like Smeagol and Gollum, the battle rages, and the points actually go to the extroverted side. You see, I cannot ignore a knock on my door, even though I should actually bury myself under a pile of books stacked up beneath my desk.

But as I hugged a sobbing friend, I realize that part of what makes one human is the need for comfort from community and a sense of belonging—which I would not find if I choose to simply stay within the space. You cannot hug yourself properly, nor can you cry on your own shoulder.

It’s reassuring to know that one day when I myself will need a hug, I will get one.

So you see, Simon and Garfunkel, I can't be a rock, nor a mountain.

Walking Around Windsor

Just thought to share with you my Windsor walk three weeks ago (was that only three weeks ago?!)

To Keep Me From Getting Homesick...

Aleks told me about this wonderfully indigenized version of "Troy" but never got around to watch it, until I got hit by the homesick bug in the middle of my reading assignments. So this got me snickering in my room, discreetly, though, as the Brits would. Enjoy!

Promises to Keep

There’s a nice apple tree outside my window. Everytime I look out to it, the word “temptation” comes to mind--and how I need to resist it.

The temptation to...

Go out and enjoy the remaining days of summer sunshine – or be holed up in my room starting my reading assignments.

Go out and have a cup of coffee at the dorm lounge with new friends – or go and check out reference books in the library.

Go out and watch a movie at the TV room – or do some research on the net for assignments.

Go out and learn how to play “cricket” with my dormates – or settle down and write a paper on this controversial topic called “postcolonialism.”

…and I am gently reminded by Robert Frost:

“The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”

The Extravagance of God

*written on Sept 10.

“God cannot do things that are not extravagant.”

The preacher said on my first Sunday service here in England. How apt. How true. I’ve been here for 5 days and still I find myself incredulous that I’ve managed to get here. Many months back when I started the whole process, I was less than positive that I would make it—there were too many hurdles and hoops. But the whole process went amazingly smooth that I could not help but think that this must really be something that God wants me to get into.

Of course, I have yet to get myself to campus and face whatever academic hurdles there is--but the past 6 days have shown me so many glimpses of God’s extravagant grace.

He’s provided me with generous colleagues who have opened their home to me for a week’s stay. This didn’t just mean a roof over my head but food and hospitality!

He’s provided me with the best sleep I have ever had in ages—I’ve had a full 8 hours of sleep and at British time as well…funnily enough, no jet lag. I just slept when the sun went down and got up when it rose. Well, it didn’t hurt that I had an unbelievably cuddly duvet!

He’s provided me with fabulous food—and yes, I can honestly say that the English meals I’ve had have been good and they were as English as it could get: Toad in the Hole (not what you think it is), Scotch Eggs, Tea and Cream, Scones. Unfortunately no Fish & Chips as of yet (I wonder what they’ll think if I dip them with catsup instead of vinegar…)

He’s provided me with great sunny and comfortably cool weather, so I could take walks and enjoy the neigborhood I’m in (it’s obviously a fancy—or as the Brits would say—posh neighborhood, what with houses having names instead of ordinary numbers with the street name attached to it—like No. 10 Downing Street…)

He’s gotten my generous hosts to bring me to some sightseeing at Windsor…and with the Union Jack flying high on one of the Castle’s tower, the queen was even in residence! I never got to visit the Queen or chase the little mice under her chair (ugh) but just going around the outside grounds, watching a Society wedding from the outside of the Guild House where Prince Charles and Camilla exchanged vows, and having tea and cream in the Windsor church that the Queen frequents, taking a walk along the River Thames…how could I complain?

He’s given me the best Sunday I’ve had. After a stirring sermon, I was able to enjoy a scrumptious potato and beef stew lunch with my hosts’ family friends in their farm, then go off for apple picking and “brambling” that is picking blackberries in their orchard. Perfection was ending this whole fun day with tea and scones.

All I expected was a place to adjust my body clock and maybe some introduction to British culture but God have me The Works---and how extravagantly! I wonder sometimes why He bothers, but He does and I am thankful.

My Humble Conclusion

I have concluded, from my very limited (read: next to nil) experience, that the best time to arrive in London is at noon—when the immigration officers have just had their lunchbreak (and therefore too sleepy to bother with incoming travelers like moi) or going into lunchbreak (therefore too hungry to bother with incoming travelers like moi)!

I just figured that must be one of the reasons why I breezed through the whole process of coming into merry old England. The biggest problem I had was not being able to produce my letter of invitation from the college. “You should have brought it with you,” said Mr. Immigration Officer, looking at me sternly. “I’m sorry, but I gave it to your Embassy already when I had to submit all my requirements to get my student visa.” I said, widening my chinky eyes ever so innocently (a feat). Which to me means, “Hello, don’t you have records?! It’s YOUR government who gave me a student visa…”

Anyway, I somehow had the last say. He then kindly directed me to the Health officer. I got there and the lady in the counter asked me for results from a recent chest x-ray. “Huh?!” Nobody ever told me that! No, don’t worry, I wasn’t too cheeky this time. I just said, “I didn’t bring them with me, but I’ve had a chest x-ray and I did have my medicals done when I applied to the college.” She goes back into the office, called somebody and spent a few minutes chitchatting, I guess, about me. She comes out and says, “Well, the radiologist says you don’t need to have another x-ray since you got it done back in your country…so, could you have somebody send it over?” I said yes and that was it, I was sent off my merry way with the needed stamp on the back of my travel card. I went back to another immigration counter, handed the card to a nice lady staff. “Oh, lovely!” she says with a smile as she handed me my passport. I never had a more pleasant experience going through any immigration (even our own). I guess these guys just had lunch.

After collecting my luggage (and yes, Barbie Bag came along for the trip) I went to the sign that says 'NOTHIN TO DECLARE' and wondered if I would get into trouble with my instant Lucky Mee Pancit Canton…only to stroll through because there was no one around to man the counters. I guess they were on lunchbreak! Everything took less than an hour.

So I offer you my humble conclusion: that the best time to arrive is noon (and maybe this works in any airport in any country!)

Half and Half

**posted at the old NAIA, which, to my delight, has a weak wifi signal.:-)

That is what I would have to reply when people ask me whether I am excited to leave for the UK. Half of me just went through a 2006 issue of Trafalgar Travel Book and got really excited about the places I will be able to visit while there, and the other half wishes I could stay on in Manila to do some more work.

The thing is, a lot of good things have been happening in work and it seems a pity to leave them. I am actually leaving them to able hands but still…

It’s the control freak in me who wants to always be around to set things up and work things out—but God reminded me, “You know what, the world actually continues to spin on its axis quite without incident while you sleep!”

Oh yeah, Lord, thanks for reminding me You’re in charge of my work since it is after all Your work.

So I take a step of faith—both ways—away from the work that I love, and into a new and unknown future.

Now I am 100% excited.

Cheerio, and may you also experience how it is to leave things to the Boss!

PASTILAN!!!!

When I get very frustrated, I lapse into Cebuano…and this is the only word that can do justice to how I feel since yesterday afternoon!

I had mini-despedida merienda with a good friend and she, out of the blue, suddenly asked the “so-called” seasoned traveler, moi, “So you leave September 5 midnight? You do know that you have to be at the airport September 4 early evening, right?” Well, you would, of course, expect me to say, “Duh!! Of course, I know that!” I would expect me to say that---instead of the stunned silence and the hanging jaw.

No, Sireee, it didn’t occur to me! And for this silly oversight, I would have missed--err--nice airplane food! (?)

I could really knock myself on the head on this—especially as this is not exactly the first time I had my dates worked out wrongly. (Confession: I came late for my Davao-Manila flight last year—one day late, because I got my dates mixed up.) I also get my times wrong (I am not good with military time—why do they have to say 1300hrs when they mean 1pm?! Okey, please don’t bother to comment on this, I know why but I just don’t want it that way for myself.)

My friends, who know I have been getting schedules and dates mixed up (like expecting to go out with some friends on June 3 and then finding out later that I actually told them June 30.) , aside from being accused of dyslexia (can’t read time and tell my left from my right), are also now accusing me of on-set Alzheimers!

Anyway, all’s well that ends well—but wait, I haven’t exactly boarded the plane yet, so who’s to know if I get something else mixed up again??

Pastilan!

THINGS

As I sat on my bed, still recovering from a short trip, and surveyed the things strewn around me, trying to put away stuff from my recent trip, trying to sort out what to bring to the UK, what to put away and what to give away. I am overwhelmed.

Things. A vague word we use to refer to what we cannot or are too lazy to give specific labels to. Yet, what a meaningful, burdensome word.

Shoes.
Clothes.
CDs.
VCDs.
Photos.
Letters.
Toiletries.
Bags.
Magazines.
Books.
Knick knacks from travels.
A collection of rupiah, ringgit, Singapore Dollars, Thai Baht.
Gifts hardly used: coffee mugs, trinkets, wallets, souvenier items, T-shirts, and more coffee mugs.

Pile them all together and they’d be a Mount Everest of things. Imagine if I were married, the pile could probably fill the whole stretch of China’s Great Wall…shudder.

I would like to think that there are worse ratpackers than me, but just looking at my collection of things—many of which are hardly used but never disposed of—I wonder.

Why is it so much easier to accumulate than to throw away things? Why can’t I throw away my old Kathmandu T-shirt which has been mothballed to one side of the closet for the past 6 years? Why can’t I give up a pair of well-worn (during its heydays) sandals that has not seen the light of day for two years? Why can’t I just give up a lot of these stuff.

Beats me!

There is a saying that goes, “The one who dies with the most toys, wins. Wins what, I wonder? Anyway, what does one do with all these toys if one is six feet under? Somehow, these “toys” or things hardly make me feel like a winner---more like a “drowner.”

Sigh.

Ironically, I just found out that my airline has graciously granted me extra 10kg luggage allowance…to make room for more “things” to bring to the UK. Now my feelings are mixed.

Talking to Myself

On the eve of an overseas trip:

Me: (taking a deep breath) Okey..I’m using Barbie bag tomorrow…

The Other Me (TOM): What’s that deep breath for? It’s just a bag!

Me: ..but it’s pink..*sigh*

TOM: So what? The important thing is for you to use it a few times, sort of like a test drive, before you bring it to the UK.

Me:…but I’m worried what people will say…it’s just sooo not me.

TOM: My goodness! Just because you got free media mileage from Snglguy’s blog post yesterday doesn’t make you famous enough for people to take notice! What an ego you have…

Me: But I’m worried about my colleagues when we meet up tomorrow night at the airport, I am sure they’ll laugh at me!

TOM: You don’t only have an over-active imagination but you’ve also got an overblown sense of self-importance…the thing is, who cares?!

Me: I can already see them snickering away—maybe I should just use the green one.

TOM: No, you are suppose to use this one and see if it works okey, besides you are only away for a week, you don’t need a bigger bag.

Me: Yiiiii-ikes…I can see myself and Barbie bag glowing beside me…

TOM: You know what, there are more important things to think about…like making sure you’ll bring your passport, your ticket, your money…

Me: Oh yeah, I’ve got that covered…sigh…it’s pink…

TOM: (frustrated sigh) Hello, will somebody out there give this girl the “Silliest Blogger Award?”

I Don't Mind...Really!

The fervently prayed-for rain has come and everyone cheers—of course! Since the lack of rain has been a real issue these past months, the rainy days has been a welcomed inconvenience for many of us commuters….yes, really, a welcomed inconvenience!

I don’t mind, really, that I get splashed by muddy water by passing cars, tricycles, buses and motorcycles…

I don’t mind, really, that the rain has made commuters sitting ducks to taxi drivers morphed into opportunistic sharks (hmmm….come to think of it, when aren’t they sharks?).

I don’t mind, really, that this means getting your shoes and pant legs all soaked because of the floods or water that has pooled up in our uneven sidewalks.

I don’t mind, really, that this means double the traffic especially along Cubao where, if you’re a commuter on a bus, you have no right to use the express underpass (only those who can afford cars or taxis have the right not to be late for their work or appointments, it seems).

I don’t mind, really, that you have to think three to a hundred times whether to make/keep appointments that would mean getting out of your house (where you stay warm and dry).

I don’t mind, really, that it means having to share an MRT ride with others who are all sweaty under their rained-soaked jackets.

..really! I don’t mind!

Five Over Three

That is, five goodbyes in over three days. Two of them are to people I am not sure I will ever see again. For the rest, if things go as planned, I will see them again in a year’s time. But then again, who’s to know in this unpredictable planet we live in?

It can be a trying practice, this goodbye business. No amount of farewells, hugs, despedida meals or goodbye gifts can take that pang away.

But, as I always try to tell myself, life goes on—everyone moves on. It would be unnatural to hang on to someone and refuse to move from a certain spot in your life unless that person moves with you. Now, that kind of messy goodbye, I can do without, thank you!

We all have our journeys to walk, and along the way we bump into people, we get helped—or lend a helping hand. And when that patch in life has passed, we go our different ways. Sometimes we meet again somewhere in the future, sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we keep in touch, or try to, other times we can’t--or don’t want to anymore.

Some people will be sorely missed as we go ahead with our journeys, others will become pleasant memories, still others will be forgotten. In some ways, forgetfulness can be a real gift—when the pain of separation, through the help of forgetfulness, will fade into hazy but good remembrances.

We then can go on with life, embracing new friends, not keeping them at arm’s length—knowing that friendship is worth risking the pain that goodbyes, which eventually comes, bring about.

Just as I thought, life is a bed of roses—you have to lay down on both the petals and the thorns.

Crying for Jack

*written a couple of weeks ago.
**WARNING: If you have not seen the last episode of 24’s Season 6, there is a bit of a spoiler here... but only a little bit, I promise you!

I haven’t cried for such a long time. But Jack Bauer had me sobbing away. Since he can do almost anything humanly possible, that shouldn’t surprise me, I guess. Just watching him fight to get his own life back for a change, at the last episode of 24, made me root for him all the more.

“Way to go, Jack!”

“About time, Jack!”

Season 6 ended with everyone in the United States of America getting their lives back after a series of terrorist attacks, with CTU staff, the president, the vice president and the rest of the gang, including the pregnant Chloe getting their much needed sleep after a stress-filled 24 hours.

Everyone but Jack.

Yeah, I know, I sound like a starry-eyed fanatic who can't tell my fact from my fiction. But just thinking of Jack Bauer made me realize how even in fiction, our heroes are all too human.

Whoever our heroes may be, like Jack Bauer, when they say “I promise you” they will not always be able to deliver, even if they promised with all their hearts and tried their very best. They will fail us somehow, sometime. Once you’ve walked with them and witnessed their own angst and struggles, you will root for them, cry with them and pray for them—but you will know for sure that they cannot always be there for you. Because they are just as human as we are.

Whatever the case may be, we hope to see you again soon, Jack!

Rocking Away!

After a scholarship, after a one-year visa, what would be the icing on the cake?

How about an award?

Imagine that, I was given another award from that girl who rocks, Ipanema! Oh wow, to be awarded twice is such a privilege--especially from someone I look up to as a really rockin' blogger herself!

So now, I need to pass the blessing again--and this is one other reason why I am so happy I got this award, I can pass it to those I would have also wanted to award the other time...

So here's the list of rockin' girls I am delighted to pass this award to:

Jenny! She writes well, she takes great photos and she speaks French! Trés cool, don't you think?

Toe! Which should not come as a surprise to many of us who are so much entertained by her posts...and the fact that she is making a difference in Cambodia, that rocks, too!

Chesca! She is a great gal who has a great family and loves to share her diving adventures with us. The fact that we both used to work in this unique place in Bataan makes her special to me, too!

Jojie A! Because not only takes great photos but she is an eagle-eye when it comes to those really funny ones that make my day! Plus she was my classmate in my college days--where we first discovered we have the same warped sense of humor--that keeps us both afloat through the rough times. Right, girl?

ZJ! Another lady who is making a difference in Cambodia! I am sure the Khmer people are know that they are blessed with your contribution there. You rock, girl!

And, Ipanema, you know, I will also have to give this award to you, too! I know I may not be following the rules, but hey, I rock (as you say) so I have the license to break some of 'em rules, don't I?

Happily Tired

Ever been tired and happy at the same time? That is how I feel today. I just got back from an overnight trip out of town and had one meeting after another today—after a couple of hour’s trip back to town. The last meeting just wrapped up a couple of minutes ago.

But even with the tiredness, it’s nice to know that many things got done and that you can go to sleep happy, even though you know that there are still about a week of "meeting marathon" (one more long-distance travel included).

Two factors that make my work meaningful and fun are the fact that I believe that what I do and where I am in what I do is my “place in the sun,” so to speak—my niche—and the other factor is that I am with colleagues (though only here for a short visit) who are so easy to work with and who share the same vision and passion I have with what I do. It does help that we’re able to “click” in such a short time (two days!), so much so that we can swap jokes and laugh at each other’s bloopers and antics without fear of being misunderstood.

If only everyday were like this, then there is nothing else I can ask God for …well, almost nothing!

Okey, better go and get ready for bed—another big day coming up tomorrow! And the next day…and the next…

Have a happy (even if you get tired) weekend!