IngliseraKuno

With all the stuff happening in the workplace these days, a one-day respite from it all was a treat. I felt that all of us needed that, so off we went to Baguio. My colleagues from Ilocos Sur can barely go on trips, except for those of us who are called to conferences out of the province. Trips can strain the meager office budget, but this time I gave this Baguio trip a 'go'. Aside from the symposium they had on gender and values reformation, I 'let them go' for half a day and do whatever they wanted: most went to church, some went to buy products from Good Shepherd Convent, the market, Session Road, and of course, the mall, SM. They all had a reason to go to SM. We decided to declare Mondays, as that day where we are to wear our proper office attires: in other words, I ordered (yes, I did not request) that the men wear collared polo on top of slacks (no jeans) and the women wear dresses/skirts. We have been wearing casual clothes color-coded each day for the past years...

'The problem with you, is that you anthropomorphize Jesus.', he told me. We were talking about two things which anyone must not touch on if a pleasant coversation is wanted: politics and religion. For one, the lunch we were having with a bunch of friends was hosted, and cooked, by a politician. The Holy Week was coming up that time: to my mind, no other religious tradition is given the most important than when Lent begins towards Easter Sunday. I am a Protestant, raised as such, and went to Catholic schools for all of my education. In between gulps of pasta (which I cut with my fork, instead of rolling it around the way it should be before raised to one's mouth), our host went on and on about the religious practices we have during the season: the ash, finger-painted on our foreheads by priests; the processions which parade around the barangay with images of Jesus, Mary and other saints carries on shoulders of men who want to offer sacrifice; the Holy Rosary recited with mys...

Over the weekend, I again thrust myself to the 'being in the moment' thing with the charming kids in Vigan, and of course their mothers. There are many of mothers they have, to which I now claim a spot. It was the usual weekend of noise, the screeching sound that Louis makes to be funny, to which Laisha would reply; the skirmish of Chesca and Louis on an issue with the 'pogs' (these circular type of cardboard toys). We went out for some errands in the afternoon, went to a shop to buy underwear, with Chesca choosing other stuff for me. In the middle of all that, there was Louis, alternately stepping out of the shop, sitting on a stool, or burying himself in tshirt racks, hiding from us. I think that he knows too well we will all panic when we lose sight of him that he intentionally makes himself disappear. Of course, no day would end with Louis without the chicken in Jollibee. It made me remember when my kids were that age. There was a time that Jollibee was a luxury for...

She told me her prayers were answered today, because I called for my usual massage each week. She is not the spa-uniformed-lavander-scent-hair-tied-up-in-a-bun type, actually her work is a cross of a 'hilot' and a masseuse. I experience relief and relaxation from her skill so she has become my official on-call 'hilot'-massage lady in Vigan. I asked what I had to do with her prayers. She told me, in an casual tone, that she needed the money to buy rice. Tonight's dinner, she said, was the last cup of rice to be cooked. If I had not called, she went on, she would spend another sleepless night thinking of where to get the money for tomorrow's meals. Oh, she had 'mongo' or beans in stock, she told me. She earned it by helping in the harvest of a neighbor, who gave her half of what she gathered for the day as payment. And she said their neighbors who fish for a living would always hand them a few pieces of their catch, as long as they helped in pulling the ne...

I was fine with being a woman, I was not raised in a family that treated women as a class below. In fact, our family takes good care of its women, and by that, I not only mean spoiled to the heavens but in the same breath afforded the freedom to aim high and push ourselves to our limits. Until one day, a big boss (he passed away already) refused to sign my designation as Assistant Regional Director, even only in Officer-In-Charge capacity. I thought he simply did not know me that well to give his blessing. I learned later that he did not welcome the idea of a 'woman' being in such post, moreso, in field operations. Admittedly, at that time, I felt inadequate. But I was confident I could learn fast, and I could do the job. This was bolstered by the fact that my Regional Director then, who was my immediate superior, was generous in sharing his vast knowledge and experience on our operations. He practically taught me everything I know today. So my designation was signed only after...

Nearing the 'finish line' of this administration, I look back at the learnings from the last five years or so. I have always believed that no matter how we perceive the circumstances which develop in our lives, we always win. Without exception, lessons surface. Choosing how to experience these lessons spell if we do allow ourselves to win, or lose. It is a matter of perpsective, and really, a choice. I was cynical about this administration, to be honest.  Not because we were all struck speechless by EO1, but I thought then that the change this administration wanted, I looked at as impossible. We are all spoiled brats in government service, admittedly, and we always had our way. The 'syndrome' was so systemic that at any instance, when a new approach to managing public service was introduced, almost always I react with a sly, quiet smile, yet I wanted to scream inside. I justified my cynicism by telling myself, if there is no room for flexibility, I cannot deliver the ta...

Nearing the 'finish line' of this administration, I look back at the learnings from the last five years or so. I have always believed that no matter how we perceive the circumstances which develop in our lives, we always win. Without exception, lessons surface. Choosing how to experience these lessons spell if we do allow ourselves to win, or lose. It is a matter of perpsective, and really, a choice. I was cynical about this administration, to be honest.  Not because we were all struck speechless by EO1, but I thought then that the change this administration wanted, I looked at as impossible. We are all spoiled brats in government service, admittedly, and we always had our way. The 'syndrome' was so systemic that at any instance, when a new approach to managing public service was introduced, almost always I react with a sly, quiet smile, yet I wanted to scream inside. I justified my cynicism by telling myself, if there is no room for flexibility, I cannot deliver the ta...