Pastilan! Living the dog-eat-dog world of a Global Pinoy!

News always fascinates me. Writing is a challenge and one of those passions included in my very short list of things on my bed spread. The problem with news, it should be straight that I ended up spending so much of my time being vigilant so that the truth is not bent, that honesty shall prevail and for fraud to surface. The good news is, in the College of Nursing, there is not much bad news and it is good to me. But in the long run, it is practically impossible that good news is constant. In the words of Napoleon Bonaparte, he warned that, “Never awake me when you have good news to announce, because with good news nothing presses; but when you have bad news, arouse me immediately, for then there is not an instant to be lost.”

It is the bad news that excites me. I actually loathe at it. But just like Bonaparte, there is not an instant to be lost when presented with it. In my short stay in the University of Baguio, I have met spectacular personalities, worked with different types of people and rubbed elbows with the amazing and the simple. The culture was extremely unfamiliar to me, I learned a thing or two and bruised me big time in the process but at the end of the day, I hit the bed with a smile, that at least, life has never been less interesting. I even pray for it. Hoping that life be a constant opportunity to beat the bad news, that bad news never stays the same. It churns the optimist in me.

Being a chunk in the arena of student leadership, I want to emphasize two things. First, there is a need for all the students of the College of Nursing to sprint and be “bold and daring.” Secondly, everybody must do the same. When it comes to what is considered as bad news, it is when change is introduced. That of course is a sign of lack of understanding that change would improve us all. Another is often the news that would involve participation and time. Time is what we make of it. It is just frustrating to hear complaints about certain issues but only the few would put effort to be a part of the solution. The majority would flee from involvement, so it elates me to see students reading what is on the bulletin board. That is a sign that at least their visual gift is not actually wasted.

I dare everyone to be bold and daring. Be bold to stand for what is right and to uphold the truth. Be bold to accept our roles as student by respecting our Clinical Instructors, administrators and those who are in authority. Be bold to accept that our mentors are not omniscient and only through constructive participation and sharing that true symbiotic relationship shall exist. Be bold to respect individual differences and promote tolerance. Dare to be part of the solution, but if you are oblivious to bother, try not to add to the problem. Be bold to go beyond your potential. Do not be satisfied with what is just being presented within the boundaries of the classrooms, the world is so vast, we can actually drown with its vastness and yet, we are still ignorant of what the world has to offer. Dare to make a difference. Dare to acknowledge that all the persons we meet in this university have its own purpose, be nice to everyone even if others are not. Do not be too traditional. Life changes and together with it is the demand of the time compelling everyone to be more creative, to be assertive of our rights and to be more participative. Be bold to remain a person of character and virtue.

Student life is not without end. This part of our life shall be reduced to memories but what would be left is our ability to withstand the real battle waiting for us after graduating from this university. What lies ahead is the true test of our character, our virtue and our strength to win the real challenges of life. Take advantage of this chance, when we are still allowed to falter because of our naïve disposition, when we can still fail because it is understandable, be wary of this opportunity to be care free for at the end of the day, when we are no longer under the responsibility of our instructors and administrators, we shall be by ourselves. We shall be the person based on the choices we made during the time when we are still being prepared to travel the journey they call life. Let us all be careful of what we pick along this journey, for what may break or help us is what we did or did not choose.

Life will be a constant skirmish of good and bad news. It will not change but it does not matter, what matter most is who was left standing. Who fought the fight, who made the difference, who were the bold and the daring.

I have not written anything for like eternity. If you’d ask me what have came to pass about me and my boring uneventful life, I guess, it wasn’t that less exciting at all. I got mugged. I was hospitalized and became a party MC shortly after my hospital discharge. Actually, I needed to leave the hospital to be able to host that party. Now beat that.

Aside from my gruesome mug experience with 5 brainless brutes, I can relate what have happened to me during my short ER experience. I guess I am still not willing to recollect my hold-up experience just yet. Drop you a hint. It was a near death experience. Now drop it.

As everybody knows, my allergic rhinitis haunted me like hell. I was having nauseating post-nasal drip and my nose is just so spiteful to me. I swear I could take all my antihistamine pills to get my allergy to rest but it was no avail. I was beginning to feel like I got cooked with my nasal spray. I suddenly felt a chest tightening. I mean, I can’t breath well. I ignored it and went on with my life that day. I had it relieved for a while so I thought I could go to do my grocery. I never thought I’ll have asthma attack, but then all of that shortness of breathing was already a symptom that I was actually having exacerbation.

I was able to survive my attack in the supermarket. I went to shower immediately as soon as I got home. Tried to sleep but my chest is getting too tight, I was actually gasping for air. I could hear my lungs wheezing. I walked my way to the hospital, I think it was the longest 50 meters walk I ever did in my entire life. I presented myself at the ER and the doctors immediately went to work. I had my IV, a nebulization, my oxygen saturation was all time low and my blood pressure was shooting up high. My heart rate was like gone mad. I felt like the window of consciousness is closing upon me. I was terribly dizzy.

I wanted to leave ASAP when I got a bit relieved but then I was surprised that the doctor ordered the nurse to admit me for confinement. I was shocked. Scared and a bit pissed off. I wanted to leave and was so frustrated why they can’t understand that. They ordered for an ECG. One of the ER nurses put me on a wheel chair and wheeled me off to the radiology department for my chest X-Ray, I thought I’d pass out. I swear I wanted to puke that time. I was glad that the staff were too patient and caring. I got a couple of shots, blood sample was taken from me and the last thing I can remember, I was shivering not sure because of cold or the IV shot that I was injected.

After that ordeal in the ER, I was transferred to the ward. Gladly, the nurses there are my friends. You know, when you become terribly sick, the first thing that would hit you is how on earth that you are in a hospital and not even one from your loved ones were there beside you. That thought hit me like a total devastation. My self-pity was devouring my will to keep going. My nerves are all wrecked up that moment but the worst thing was about me being alone.

That was the hardest part of it. I learned then that life is too short. I have never appreciated much about the significance of staying healthy. That period of my life, the thought of how much I love to stay with my loved ones preoccupied me. That experience had caused me to appreciate life more fully.

Oh, so I forgot about the party, wait up for it. I’d write more about that shindig in a short while.

I am not sure if my leaving the Philippines had actually obscured my insight of the real Pinas. It is only lately that I have been inflictedwith self-realization that I am not the same as I was before, with a hope thatI did not get worse, I guess.

Of course, I hate to sound a bit condescending about my past, or my roots or anything that has to do with mylife back in the Philippines. It is just that despite of the drastic change of my lifestyle, the sting brought by my economic inadequacy back then suddenly reminded me of the lucid frustration I mustered, and I can say, it is still haunting me occasionally – just like it does lately.

Those experiences have taught me a thing or two. It bruised me big time but I turned out to be tougher. But that is not the real reason why I am writing about it. I want to let you see the shame and guilt I have been into for what I thought were miserable living in the Philippines.

Back then, I whined so bad that I put the complaining biatches to shame. Only little did I know that there are more people who has no ability to complain at all, not that they could not but they just have nothing at all to feel the need of complaining. What is more devastating is the fact that I am just one of the million Pinoys who do not know other thing more productive than just complain.

My understanding then of beingpoor was my inability to take a vacation in Hong Kong because I do not have the money to pay for the package promo rate. I am so frustrated every time I was unable to pay the tuition fee of my two college siblings in full since my salary can only pay the down payment for each semester. I hate myself because I can only take my then gf to Chowking and not in Via Mare, Chilis, or take a break in Cibo or Red Crabs.

Back then, I have always thought that my life is in constant misery. I would be easily upset by the surge of bodies boarding MRT trampling everyone who would not budge in and the way some passengers smell. I cursed myself for not having my own condo unit near my work place and not being able to afford a chauffeur to drive me to my office.

Most of my miseries that time were very mundane, almost incredibly superficial. But I was not conscious of it, all I knew was I am poor, devoid of any ability to alleviate my state of inconveniences. I was stupid enough that millions of other
Filipinos are deprived of the very basic necessities to survive a day. Children are unable to go to school because they were either abandoned by their parents or have to work instead so they can have something to feed their hungry stomach.

I had the chance to be acquainted with a group of gay teenagers who were giggling while staring at my brother while we, together with my younger sister, were waiting for our computer to be fixed in a computer shop while I was in the Philippines. They throw banters to each other about how awful was the other guy to hit on my brother and tag their pal as “patay gutom” meaning, he doesn’t even have the means to find food lest find a partner. Although they laughed at it, deep inside me is the feeling of sadness that someone has to be told like this just because of his below poverty-line existence.

I went to interview one of the kids (he told me his name is Princess, I did not bother to ask for his real name), his enthusiasm masked the scarcity of resources that made him appear very malnourished. His energy was high and his laughter is typical of a loud gay who is just having fun probably because of the attention they are getting while my sister and brother were embarrassed, because I am entertaining Princess and his friends.

He told me of his dreams, his was simple. The way Princess put it was very quaint, his purpose in life is devoid of complexity, it was rather plain, unadorned and yet the sincerity is perceptible.

He just wants to finish his high school study and be able to dance, then he paused and an unmistakable laughter followed, probably to betray the seriousness of his response and make it appear less melodramatic. Back then, I doubt I knew of someone who would only think about finishing high school as a dream. I always thought that dreams are meant to be high, oblivious to the reality since dream comes free anyway. Then I realized that life is no longer the same as it was before.

Being able to live another day is an everyday feat. Shelters are no longer a choice of concrete and wood, the dichotomy is now between having one and nothing at all. I used to hear that poor people are poor because they sleep on the floor and not on the bed, it has changed dramatically. It is now about what comes between the floor and the naked back. Or even what floor is it, the street or a shanty built under the bridge. Life is harsh. Even worst than I thought.

Living and working abroad has made me realized that looking from a distant point of view, I witnessed images and those conceptions that were never there back then - back in the Philippines where you only see yourself. I was miserable because of my aspiration to feel better and escape from life’s harsh whip. Isn’t that pathetic?

My absence from the Philippines had me. It resulted to an almost transcendent understanding of what really lies beneath and poked the real side of me. The guilt and shame went gushing to my consciousness, embarrassed of my complaints, my pains and personal hassles.

Right now, I am frustrated that there is not much I could do. Unable to do something significant to cause any radical change to the state of my dear nation and its people. I am just another clueless pinoy, not knowing how I can be different and make an impact, even to the least degree of what they may call positive action.

Or probably I know. Just that I do not have the guts to work it out or just being less courageous knowing that whatever effort I do, I will be sucked up by the already corrupt system. Thinking about it, I find myself to have less and less audacity to do whatever is purpose-driven.

Sigh. It just sucks that it is easier to give up and throw your hands to the pblivion of hopelessness.

I got assailed with so many weird things this week. Here is one for you. There was one of those guys from apartment complex I live who suddenly came up to me, while I was standing beside my supermarket cart, whispering that he thinks I can play tennis well. He nudged himself toward my ear and said things I did not readily understand.

The way he did it reminded me of mobsters trying to lure me to buy drugs. Only because it fell under the category of “weirdness,” I was not exactly very polite and got a bit jumpy, retreated in a flash and gave him a stern look. Only then I realized that he was telling me that he wants to help me with my tennis practice.

I wrote something about “invisible people” sometime ago then found out I am again guilty of keeping other people in transparent mode - harsh. He said he usually see me in the gym when I am not in the tennis court. I kinda felt I was a “little” distant and less affable that time.

Then I become conscious that he was actually trying to make friends or unless he had seen me play tennis and thought I am in a terrible need of some kind of help. This is funny, without me knowing, the poor guy was just intending to help me sort out my tennis game because it makes him sick watching me whack those tennis balls and turning that “noble” game into a spectacle of guffaws.

So trying to recompense my offensive reaction, I told him that I will be glad to see him help me with my tennis strokes and prolly, he can teach me to be the tennis player that I wanna be. I was almost tempted to ask if he would make me the next Federer (who, by the way, I think will win the Cincinnati Open) and would he be kind to bring me Gatorade as well during every game. Oh that sounds condescending. Come on, I am just kidding.

I am beginning to believe that I am a likeable person (geeez, I am flattering myself way to much here but definitely not thrilled with “him” liking me though) and for not having recognized the people who wanted to give their assistance to better my everyday existence is a substantial shame because unlike the rest of you guys, I have nothing to offer except my one big cheesy smile.

Walking along the Session Road in Baguio City on the first day of the year 2008 became a little bit less smile-triggering, somehow diminished my already high-level enthusiasm brought by the holiday season.

I bet I am just one of the zillions, who-for some reason, are putting up on their minds about things they wished would be improved. Why not? New year brings hope. The problem is, mine is only hope. What I see around me is the inability of the many to really realized that our country is becoming less and less likely to be better. No, I don’t think so. Then you would go, wow, what a great way to start 2008 with cynicism. Sure. Whatever.

I certainly do not wish to start with my own list of complaints, I just find that incredibly surprising. I also think that Filipino, whether they are the business people or those bureaucrats regulating the economic policies of this country, are just simply nasty, greedy and cruel. The day of reckoning shall come too…Now that is my 2008 so called less conventional, non-optimistic way of looking at it. I am not angry, this is not an explosion of angst as well as it usually gets tiring in the long run, it is just a quick observation that in this country, those who are poor are becoming worst while the wealthy are just getting fatter.