Attended "Stand up against poverty yesterday" and somehow wondered about the pledge part. Until I read in the news that it was "Stand up against poverty" day in support of the Millenium Development Goals. For a time there, had thought the pledge part was somehow staged. An in a way, it was. But going further from the drama part, the event made me think how I could play an active part in the realization of the Millenium Development Goals. Is it just allright that I do my role as employee and serve our clients? There has to be more to it than keeping an 8-5 job. There has to be more to it than having a good relationship with my co-employees. It has to be more than being on the good side of my superiors. Far more than that. It has to make an impact to the world I live in. Maybe not really something huge, small steps...little things in little ways, maybe touch one life. I need not launch a crusade or muster an army. All I need is the conviction and the desire to contribute and make my presence count. That's it: make my presence count. Break the wall of apathy that surrounds me. One brick at a time. By reaching out. By actively seeking means to touch lives. And how do I start with this? I don't know. But becoming aware of this is an improvement.

There is this restlessness within me that urges me to take action. A nagging feeling that I try to ignore and drown by any means. But it keeps building up, becoming more painful and insistent that I have to confront it so that I may be able to address the need and let the matter rest. And now it is back. And it gets me out of bed during the wee hours of the morning. These things inside me that seeks to get out. Thoughts that need to become words. And like acid buddbling inside our troubled stomachs, they find their way out. Despite my vain efforts to keep them down. And the thoughts tumble out, as my fingers seek out one letter after another...joining them to form words...joining the words in an attempt to achieve coherence. Until I become empty once more. I wonder why I resist the effort. Maybe because of the Law of Inertia. But to be empty once more feels good. Ahh...

I don't know where or how I will start making a solid stand against poverty. But I'll be thinking about it. And I will let it guide me in the decisions I make.

On Love and Fear...and forgiveness

When I was small, I dreamt that my father died. The pain of loss was so great, I woke up crying. Then I woke up to realize it was just a dream. I was very much relieved. There are many times since Monday, May 29, when I hoped that just like before, this is all just a dream. And for each time, I have to accept that it isn't. Tatay succumbed to chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (emphysema), hypertensive cardiovascular disease and hospital acquired pneumonia. He was 64.

When I was a little girl, I used to go up the verandah in the afternoons and be on the lookout until I see him appear in the corner. I would announce to my sisters "Tatay is here!" and we would scamper downstairs to lovingly welcome him. For most of my adult years, I had feared more than loved this man. There were many times when I wondered where the love went. Tatay was a disciplinarian who believed in the saying "spare the rod and spoil the child." In the hierarchy of household discipline, his was the highest level. He used this sparingly but the prospect of his belt was something we feared . And almost everyone used that knowledge to force us into submission. Which was unfair to him I now realized. There he was, working to provide for us, and we were left at home threatened that we would get it when he got home for our misdemeanors. It was inevitable that we would fear him and avoid him rather than appreciate him and cuddle up to him. The past month when COPD took its toll on him, Tatay gradually weakened. He was bedridden the past three weeks and we had to care for him. And while it was painful to see him suffer, I realized that the past weeks made us closer to him and helped us bridge the gap that had separated us all those years. And now I weep. But not for Tatay who is now at peace. I weep for that little girl whose love was replaced by misguided fear. For the years that would have been more meaningful and love-filled. For being so worried about incurring more debt and deciding not to bring the kids over on what should have been our last Christmas with him. For thinking I had enough time.
My relationship with Tatay taught me that God and family come first; that friends, both at and off work are important; that while we try hard to become good parents, we will always make mistakes; and that I should always consider each day a gift to be shared with loved ones.
Pride made me think that Tatay's illness made forgiveness possible. From me, to him. Now I fervently pray that it I was right. This time for me, from myself.

Requested a copy of the curriculum for Doctor of Management major in Development Management from CPU. Since my credentials are there, might as well continue rather than transfer my credentials in another school.

I'm still not sure though whether I'd specialize in Business Management or in Development Management.

Anyhow I still have until May to think it out.

I don't know where to start. But as the saying goes, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. I hope each word I type, each word that goes out of my head and appears on screen, are small steps towards freedom. Freedom from my self-imposed limitations. Freedom from fear. Freedom from insecurities.

I've got a new mantra: Get a Life. And I recite it everytime I find myself watching by the sidelines, acting as if I don't care, but fervently hoping somebody in the playing teams would call me and ask me to join them.

Get a life...
Get a life...
Get a life....