I need to blog + Project: Rant Less

I'd say with the proliferation of social media and microblogging platforms, I have lost the will to blog. Obviously. Can you count the years since I last posted here?

* * *

Blogging takes so much from you. Every entry is such an investment, requiring significant effort -- the text is longer, hence there are more chances for grammar or spelling errors; there's the cohesiveness of ideas that you need to worry about, that won't even cross your mind if you're just writing a two-sentence status update on Facebook or a 140-character tweet. Blogging, like many things before it, seems like it has met its doom: it has become too cumbersome for our tech-savvy time-strapped perpetually distracted society.

And yet, I miss it more than sometimes. I miss having the luxury of pouring my thoughts onto a text box without an ominous automatic character count bidding me to be careful not to use long words. So I can't really use antidisestablishmentarianism or pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis - not that I would want to under normal circumstances, but still, I'd like to have the option.

***

What can one say after almost two years of not blogging? Where do I start?

I've wanted to start writing more for pleasure again for the longest time, and on numerous occasions I had wanted to resurrect this blog. The final straw was when 'chwistine.blogspot.com' my original URL from years back -- which I had accidentally deleted in a moment of utter stupidity -- became available again. So here I am. First few attempts at resurrection.

I believe another reason why I seemed to have given up on blogging is because for the past 6 years I have been a communications manager -- this means I write for a living. Doing so -- writing with deadlines, with an incomplete brief, writing about things you don't like and multiple other 'forced' writing tasks has, for me, taken the fun out of the activity. Add to that the fact that I had gone into graduate school, with its endless papers, researches and assignments, you can imagine just how Microsoft Word became my best friend and worst enemy at the same time.

With all these, what used to be a passion has turned into a chore, and after having to write endlessly during the day, I started to avoid it at all costs outside of the workplace or school.

***

Oh, ranting. The sheer joy of letting it all out. Just a small notch below cursing, ranting usually rids us of the things that frustrate, annoy or irritate us by verbally lambasting it, so we are left feeling a little bit comfortable or relatively happier with life. Of course, until the next rant-worthy thing happens to us.

I believe everyone wants to lead a positive life. Who wants to be branded nega (i.e. negative) anyway? But (and here's the but, case in point of the constant negation in our lives) often the small things get to us, and we let them do so. I know this to be true of myself. I simply cannot let go even if all logic points to that being the best solution.

***

So, I'll leave it at that, and with hope fervently burning that I can indeed resurrect this long-missed hobby. Wish me luck.

To my new President: My humble message for P. Noy

Dear P. Noy,

Congratulations! Yesterday you were sworn in as our country's 15th president. I cannot even begin to imagine how that must feel like. I think for a person to voluntarily subject him/herself to such immense duty and power, one must be extremely ambitious or delusional or compassionate or greedy or selfless - or an incomprehensible mixture of all of the above. But as they always say - it's a dirty job... and thank God some people actually want to do it!

Today, as you were getting ready for your inauguration, my family and I left home early to travel to Tanauan, Batangas and visit the Mabini Shrine. You see, my family are descendants of the Sublime Paralytic, and it felt like an appropriate time to pay homage to another great Filipino who paved the way for the democracy that we are enjoying now. As I stood before his tomb, I thought: What would our forefathers say if they saw the joke that we have turned this country into? How would they feel if they discover all those lives lost fighting our colonizers were lost so that we could steal from and deceive fellow Filipinos? I know you might have this at the back of your mind too, having lost your parents they way you did. But here before you is a chance to correct this; I hope you seize it, and make the most of it as you possibly can.

P. Noy, I did not vote for you. And while I believed that there is someone else out there more competent for the job, I watched in awe as the nation came together and rallied behind you. And this, I see, is your greatest gift. We have had many different kinds of presidents but none who seem to be quite as well-loved as you; you have inspired a hope in the Filipino people that, at least for the time being, caused many a kababayan to turn a blind eye to the obvious signs of our inefficiencies. That hope, quite honestly, should have already been gone considering years of our motherland's painfully slow progress and the suffering that many of our countrymen endure everyday from living in such a disorganized nation. I can understand how that hope has been replaced by apathy and a society that is often unimpressed with grand promises of a better tomorrow - we have seen far too many of those broken. But today, seeing the outpouring of support during your inauguration, I hope you can recognize just how desperate we are for good governance and how badly we need you to step up to the plate -- not after your first 100 days, not after the first half of your term -- but starting today, your first day as the President, and every single day hence.

I am sure many Filipinos feel and believe with all their heart that YOU are the answer. That YOU will change everything. Right now, you have the love of our people and with that, you can do no wrong. Not to point out the obvious, but yes, the country eagerly awaits for you to use this love and support well, to show them that they chose the right person to put in power. All eyes are on you and for once we actually care more for what you have to say than what your sister has to say. That is rare, and it might not last long, so you really need to get a move on.

P. Noy, I believe there is a group out there who are in-between; they are neutral Filipinos who, while they do not outright disparage or ridicule you, they are also not your most staunch or devoted of supporters. I belong to that group. We are a group that remains to be convinced, and quite frankly, we would love to be proven wrong. We would love to be shown that there never was any need to doubt you, Mr. President; that all your plans can be done and that you will do it.

I sincerely look forward to being proven wrong, because when that happens, P. Noy, it would mean that you have succeeded in pushing this country forward.

For now, I promise to be a good citizen; to not be a hindrance but an enabler for our country's development. And yes, you can expect me to send my OFW dollars back home. But I'm watching you. We all are.

With best regards and a whole lot of well wishes,
Teng

Hong Kong Chronicles: Day One

It's day one in Hong Kong, and what a day it has been. First item on the schedule was to unpack and clear what little space I have in my "home" for the next two months: a studio unit at The V right in the heart of Causeway Bay. And yes, I put "home" in quotation marks because it is barely the size of my bedroom in Beijing. The bed is next to the kitchen which is next to the closet which is next to the bathroom -- all these packed in a tiny little box of a room over looking a busy road right down the street from Sogo department store. Times Square is also only a 5-minute walk; that is, if you do not pause to enter a shop or buy something along the way, which is a virtual impossibility.

My room is not small; it is tiny. And for a homebody like me, I found the prospect of living here for the next couple of months quite daunting. I enjoy big spaces; a place I can call my own, where I can move around, hence the size of my previous apartments in Beijing. So as I lay on my bed contemplating these thoughts, I suddenly felt claustrophobic. I found it hard to breath and felt like I was having a panic attack. I couldn't even walk to clear my head, because three steps from the bed is the door, right outside is a narrow hall, and right downstairs was a crowded street, a normal occurrence for Hong Kong. So I laid there, closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths and tried to calm myself (thanks Jaim for talking me through that!).

I had to step out, and so I found myself headed towards Times Square. I'll pick up some necessities from the supermarket, I thought to myself. As I passed the shops along the way, I started to relax. I realized I'm just going to have to get used to the fast pace of this city. I guess this is coming as a shock to me because of the relative laid-back environment that I came from. Life in Beijing seemed five times slower than here, and so I just need to step it up.

I lost myself in the crowd, all the stuff on display, the sights and smells of street foods, all the things on sale. I soon forgot my anxiety and found myself settling a little, realizing how and why shopping has become a way of life not only for those who visit this city, but even those who live here. I know this will be controversial but let me say it: shopping is therapeutic. When you buy something -- there is that moment where 'that thing you wanted' turns into 'that thing you own', and it gives you a feeling of control. And at a time when I was feeling like a fish out of water, that feeling of control was gold.

I know fully well that this is not sustainable. I can't go on a shopping spree every time I feel uncomfortable or stressed; specially not while I'm here, as you can buy anything and everything in Hong Kong, and oftentimes it will be a steal, and that's how you justify it. But let's just say that today, as my Tita Cynthia put it, shopping was a 'quick fix for my boo-hoos.'

Papa was also quick to pull me back to reality. As soon as I stepped back into my room, my mobile phone was ringing and Papa's words were, "O, magdahan-dahan ka. Wag masyado gumastos." I swear, that guy is psychic. Either that, or he knows me too well.

But now it's time to get ready for the actual reason I'm here. Tomorrow will be my first day working in the Hong Kong office. I just know it's going to be different - a good kind of different. Maybe tougher and more challenging, but that's how we grow, right? So I'm going to try to get to bed early, prepare myself both mentally and physically for the start of a new chapter.

A day after arriving, I have a feeling mine will be a gradual transition into the beat of this new city. Hong Kong's slogan is "Live it, love it!" -- I have yet to go through the first part, but I am sure the last part will come, all in due time.

And in the meantime, I've got my purchases to cheer me up. :)

Sunday Mass... in the Jing

Today, I did something for the first time: I heard mass in Beijing.

Yes, I will be first to admit that I have been remiss in my duties as a Catholic -- why that is so is a different entry altogether.

Anyway, after living here for more than three years, today was the first time I actually went inside a church and heard mass. I was surprised to see many people inside the church, with the Communist Party's stand on organized religion being what it is (the government is officially atheist). I was not so surprised to see quite a handful of foreigners, Filipinos included. After all, this was one of only two weekly masses held in English.

I realized that the experience of hearing mass is the same as it is everywhere; I left with my heart feeling a bit more joyful, my burdens a bit lighter, and I felt ready to face the week ahead. But I also left with a sudden yearning for home, in particular the understated beauty with which we celebrate our religion: the solemn churches, the hushed crowd, and above all, the angelic voices of those who sing their praise.

What I wanted to drive at is actually very simple: I wish the church choir sounded a bit better... but anyway, I am ending this now before this entry starts to sound like a rant.

Being back in church was a good feeling, and to be honest, I am still pretty darn lucky to have a church to go to, all things considered. So I'll take what I can get, and try to start turning up regularly for my Sunday appointments with the Big Man again.

Memories of Birthdays Past

First thought today: Is it Thursday already?

Quickly followed by: Why are the days just breezing by? Where are they off to?

Then I realized. They must be in a hurry to get to my 26th birthday.

If I had a panic button, I'd press it now. Not because I'm worried about getting older, but because I have no idea how I'm going to celebrate this birthday. My best friends have left Beijing, my family is 1800 miles away, and some other special people are even thrice further.

I am scared that this might rival that birthday I spent in an overnight train to Milan, alone. God, please, I hope not. Well, at least I have a home in Beijing; I can cook spaghetti and buy some fried chicken and celebrate... even if I'm by myself. So maybe it won't be that bad. Sad, but not that bad.

Last month, I spent almost three weeks on vacation in the US and thought that would be enough to make this birthday special. An advanced birthday gift, I told myself. I guess I should have known better; I should have known that despite the wonderful trip I had, I still would like to do something to commemorate November 3rd.

It would be easy to round up people and throw a party; but I've always held birthdays in high regard, and it just wouldn't feel special if I celebrate it just for the sake of having warm bodies around me as I turn a year older.

So I twirl the date round and round in my head, and I dream of past birthdays spent with loved ones... old friends, my crazy family.

My parents would be up early to go to the market and pick up ingredients for the day's feast. The kitchen would be a mess and the smell of garlic prawns and inihaw na liempo would be wafting through the house, signalling that amazingly delicious food will soon be served.

The coolers are soon filled with ice to chill the beer, and set out by the garage, almost as a welcome to the guests. Chairs and tables would be arranged, and 'reinforcement' a.k.a. rented monoblocs would be arriving by this time, if deemed necessary. My brother would tinker with the audio and visuals -- speakers, projectors, amplifiers, what have you; because no party is ever complete without good music -- and bad music at that, courtesy of the videoke! And I would wake up relatively late to all this chaos (a benefit of being the balikbayan, haha), jump in the shower and soon join in the boring preparations fun.

The party starts when you hear Buster, our smelly but dear German Shepherd, bark at the first few guests approaching the gate. Then it's all good times from there. Stories, laughter, booze, more stories, singing, dancing, getting drunk, then drunken stories. In the middle of it all, I would probably be asked to rush to the supermarket to buy more ice, more beer, or more pulutan, and I would gladly oblige since it's my excuse to start picking my friends up from their houses (kayo yan songers! spoiled! haha). Towards the end (normally past midnight), we would start bringing out the coffee and batchoy so people can have something warm in their stomachs and make sure they are sober enough to find their way home.

Often during get-togethers like these, people would be doing their their own stuff: the adults in the garage downing the alcohol (special mention: Tita Cynthia!), the kids playing inside the house or watching cartoons, me entertaining my friends, my brother enjoying his Red Horse and looking judgmental at all the SMB drinkers (haha), my sister in a corner with her phone, texting, oblivious to everything (haha joke lang Tata). But despite that, everyone partakes in an atmosphere that is festive and happy, because the fact they we're all together is the most important of all.

*moment of silence*

This is the point where I would be sighing, swearing that I miss home so much so that I am tempted to go to the PAL website and book a ticket no matter how expensive it is. But no. No complaining.

I had considered just letting the day pass, shelve it together with the rest of those ordinary days of the year, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. The day I disregard my birthday is the day I stop loving life -- and I'm not even thinking of going there.

No worries. Come November 3rd, I'll be happy with my spaghetti and fried chicken, and memories of birthdays past... and more importantly, dreams of birthdays to come. :)