The Calm Before the Storm

First half of the week was pretty much idleness. The heat was still searing although it was waning by Wednesday.

Happy Birthday!

Thursday was my sister's birthday and it's one of those required family dinners. Unfortunately, also had a meeting with my friends during the evening so I asked my mom if she could schedule the dinner earlier (6 pm) rather than the usual time we leave the house (7 pm) so I can meet up with my friends at the designated time (7:30 pm).

My mom was persuaded but unfortunately, she chose a far flung restaurant away from the Greenhills area where I was supposed to meet up with my friends. So by 7 pm, I got out of the restaurant and braved the streets of Quezon City (where ABS-CBN is) to walk to Ortigas. Of course this really shocked my mom, and agitated my father, who didn't want me walking alone in the evening. Threats were made against me, only to be rescinded before I left.

Suffice to say, walking and sprinting from ABS-CBN to Ortigas (where Xavier School is) during nighttime took me a record high of 30 minutes.

Rain

By Friday there was some change in the weather, with rain starting to pour. Father felt guilty over the incident, and told the usual spill of loving me and all.

Storm

I still stand by the opinion that there's only two instances when father starts talking about his (and his family's) life: when he's drunk, and when he's making a sermon-type of speech. He gathered all his children yesterday and told the narrative of his grandfather until the present time.

It's not that I don't appreciate my family's history, but I've been asking these questions several years before, only to be rebuffed and given a short, vague answer. Which is really annoying about my parents. Because I know them more than they know themselves, and so I ask the pertinent questions way before they want to talk about it. And when they finally talk about it, they treat it as if I wasn't interested in the first place.

Anyway, insight for the day was why my father has a prejudice against Filipinos, and the fact that my "real" Chinese family name is xia (fookien) or xie (mandarin) (谢 ) instead of yu or yang (杨 ). So yes, neither Charles Tan nor Charles Yu is my supposed to name (as if it wasn't already complicated) but Charles Xia.

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Traffic Nightmare

For those of you unfamiliar with Philippine traffic, you should drop by the Ortigas area this weekend. Because Mega Mall has a three-day sale, and nothing draws crowds (and jams the traffic area) more than a sale. Having said that, it's a good day to be a pedestrian.

Job Interview

I had my first job interview the other day. And while I was nervous before the meeting (and I even left the house early because I had to find where Emerald Ave. was but lo and behold, the first street I came upon on Ortigas was Emerald Ave., so I killed time at the Podium instead), there's really no sense being nervous during the interview (unless, of course, that's the kind of image you want to project).

My potential employer was kind and accomodating, so I was lucky during that time. Hopefully it won't be my *only* job interview...

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A Painful Experience

I was going through my old documents to put into my portfolio and I feel this certain aversion to things I've written in the past. And I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels this. Many people don't usually like to comment or see/read their old work, whether it's drawings, writings, or previous creations (of course the opposite is also true; we might treasure them for the nostalgia factor, that it was one of our first works, etc.). The feeling is like your parents showing your baby pictures to all your relatives, friends, and acquaintances. There are some things which I can't believe I did or wrote in a certain way, and you ultimately ask yourself "was this me?".

Of course looking back into the past has its benefits. It also shows how much we've grown, how much we've changed. If we're disappointed in a previous work of ours, it's only because we now know better.

But not everything in our past is to be apprehended either. There are moments when we're full of passion, full of zeal for things. Now, in certain respects, we've either lost hope, grown cynical, or don't exert as much effort as we used to (for various reasons).

Change has always been a two-way street. But it's usually about perception. Instead of focusing on things we dislike in our former lives, it's more comforting to remnisce about the positive things (but we shouldn't dwell on them too much either... they are, after all, in the past for a reason).

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