Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts

February 5, 2008

How to resign

My mind was wondering for awhile, drifting my thoughts to whether or not I file a resignation letter or not. The question, "Do I really want to leave or not?" is bothering me lately. But one thing that I'm pretty sure of, I'll be missing mbs when I finally decided to leave. The finality of my decision will be so soon, and I am already feeling the pain of leaving the company, which I served for more than a year already.

As I was thinking about this, there's something that reminded me most about my stay in mbs tek. It was the first post I've written about MBS TEK. I made it last year and now I'm re-posting it here so I could somehow reminisce of what it takes to be a part of MBS Tek.

Isang umaga sa pantry, kung saan kalansing ng mga tasa't kutsara'y pumapawi sa mga naiidlip pang ispirito. Sabayan pa ng halakhakan na sadyang panghimagas na nga yata ng karamihan dito. 'Yun bang sa simpleng kwento lng matatawa ka na, o baka naman kaya ay sa hitsura ka nya natatawa? Kumusta naman 'yun? Ewan natin, pero ayos na rin basta lang may mapagusapan. Ehersisyo man lang kahit hindi sating mga pangagatawan, kundi sating mga bunganga.

Ang sarap sanang matulog sa mga oras na ito, alas otso pa lng ng umaga at heto tayo parang nakikipagbaka sa tikatik ng hay-tetch na makinilya. Di mawari kung anong sisimulan. "Di bale na, kusa na lang aagos ang ideyang halos balot na ng grasa," ani konsensya. Pero bago ang lahat, dahil sa ako'y hindi na nakapaghigop man lang ng kape sa aming barong-barong, patikim naman ng brewed coffee ni em, bee at ess...

Ewan ko ba at parang kinakabog ang dibdib ko. Di ko mapagtanto kong ito ba'y kabog talaga ng dibdib o sikmura ko lng na kumakalam na sa sobrang gutom. Pwera usog sa may sibang dyan. Laking takot ko tuwing sasakay ako sa dyip, malay ko ba ma-sibang ako. L*ntek na di ko alam ang tagalog ng terminong yan eh. Basta yun na yun. Naalala ko noon, nasa murang edad pa lamang ako. Nakaramdam ako ng sobrang sakit ng tiyan. Di lang 'yun...alam mo ba yung pakiramdam ng na-i-L? Ay sensya na naiwan yung BM. Iyon! LBM pala. Naku! Kung alam mo lang na para akong natatae na pinagpapawisan ng malamig. Hay, ayoko ng balikan pa ang mga panahong iyon...

Balik tayo sa brewed coffee ni em, bee at ess. Dahan-dahan kong tinahak ang pantry, halos katabi lang naman iyon ng aming pugad. Bitbit ang kulay puti kong mug na me kasama pang kutsara, nang aking silipin ang...teka, ano nga ba ang tawag nito? ayan o sa baba nito...

keepsakes ni em, bee at ess

Sila ang tinatawag kong "keepsakes ni em, bee at ess". Heto na kinabog na naman ang dibdib ko ng keepsakes na ito. Siguro'y nanabik na kayong malaman kung ano nga ba ang ibig sabihin ng kabog na ito...

Halikayo at ibubulong ko sa inyo...

"Minsan isang araw, at gaya ng nakagawian hindi na naman ako nakapaghigop ng kape sa aming barong-barong. Pagdating ko sa pugad ni Em, Bee at Ess, dali-dali kong tinahak ang pantry, sinilip ang laman ng keepsakes ni Em, Bee at Ess. Hulaan niyo ang nakita ko....naks! galing mo tsong! sakto! exactly! nakusit mo nanggad (lengwahe ni halley)...

Ang nakita ko ay si Wala! Wala wala wala akong nakita! paksy*t!

Isang araw naman, siguro naawa si Em, Bee at Ess kasi laking gulat ko may laman na ang keepsakes ni Em, Bee at Ess...heto naman hulaan niyo?

tadaaaan....Kape! Coffee! L*ntek na...

Subukan mo ngang higupin yan ng walang asukal! gawin kong pulbos 'yan sa pagmumukha mo eh!

Natakot siguro sa banta ko, isang umaga talagang may laman na ang keepsakes ni Em, Bee at Ess. Asteeeg! Kumpleto ang laman. May creamer sa keepsake #1 (iyong bang may takip na dugyuting platito?), sa keepsake #2 naman nakalagay ang asukal (eto naman yung may takip na transparent na plastic container, yung bang pang salad?) ewan ko kung sinong may mabuting kalooban na nagdoneyt noon, at sa keepsake #3 naman nakalagay ang kape (buti na lang hindi pa inaanay ang takip nito)...

Ayan napaghalo ko rin ang pinakamimithi kong creamer, kape at asukal. Pagkatapos, tinulak ko yung gatilyo na kulay pink at bumuhos na ang tubig. Hinalo halo ko yung coffee with creamer ng hawak kong kutsara habang nglalakad pabalik sa aming pugad. Sa aking pag-upo parang sabik na hinigop ko ang tinimpla kong kape...

"Pweeeee!!!" napangiwi ako! Isa pa ngang paksy*t dyan! Para malaman mo, hindi mapait yung timpla ko, hindi rin matamis. Tama lang yung pagkakatimpla...Tae! Hulaan mo nga ulit kong anong deperensya nito?

Iyong intensyon na magpainit ng sikmura ay naging isang malameeeeg na kape! Hindi ako namali ng pagtulak ng gatilyo. Pink yun! Pero ang tanong, bakeeet malameeeg kang lint*k na kape ka?!!

If my memory serves me right, I found that avatar on my visitors widget a day after I posted this entry. I imagined how he reacted when he read it and it made me laugh, really. So the next thing that had happened, presto! We had a new set of canisters at the pantry. And not just that, we have complete stocks of coffee, creamer and sugar...A round of applause to whoever acted on that matter...hehehe!

Now, let's go back to my emo-mode...

If my question then is, "bakeeet malameeeg kang lint*k na kape ka?!!", at this point, I am yelling at myself with this question, "I resign or I resign?"

2

February 4, 2008

The first time I stepped in my kindergarten class marked the beginning of my history in writing. It began with writing the alphabet. My teacher was a petite lady, well-known for her patience. We were a perfect match as I took twice as long as my classmates just to write A-Z. She would take up all of the papers and then slowly turn around. Then came the stare; a stare I came to know very well. I would look back at her with an exaggerated innocence and quietly ask, "How does my paper look?" I knew even at that tender age that my letters looked better than everyone else’s. At this early stage, I developed enthusiasm that has lasted throughout the years. I would finish a writing task and when I finished it, which is more often than not, it would take a special and qualified person to truly appreciate it.

During my elementary years, from grades one through six produced nothing more than a long and dormant period of writing. I was just like Bermuda grass that turns brown all winter long and then greens up in the spring. I finally came out of dormancy in my first year in high school when again I met my grandma, who took a flight from Australia. In my eyes, she was halfway to perfection. But it was just about her wits. She was about five feet tall with large, soft, black eyes and short hair. I was just 2 inches shorter but that didn’t matter.

Every time I saw her, a tingling feeling would start in my stomach similar to the sensation of racing around that sharp, fast turn on a giant roller-coaster at the amusement park. Not only was she physically aggressive, she was also a vibrant human-being with strong personality. Right then when I realized that I want to be like her, a woman of wits. She has a career of various interests, a journalist in the Philippines (during Marcos’ regime) and in Australia, a terror professor, a lawyer, a pianist and an interior designer. I look up to her as a versatile career woman and as a mother. I was her favorite grandchild, and we would sit together and talk about everything. Much to my surprise she never tired of my constant attention. One remarkable tribute was her ability to express meaning as well as describe people she had encountered or objects she had seen. I always listened intently. Throughout her stay here in the Philippines, I went out of my way to learn more from her about things that will help me be inspired in reaching my goals, which is becoming a journalist tops my list. That was before when I was kinda innocent…

My experience during my high school was in some way profound. It wasn’t so much the fact that I thought my stay in high school was so spectacular. What was amazing was the emotional response that my achievement could summon from some members in my clan. All year long, I had seemed somewhat friendly. I have earned the care and love from my friends in the class and even from other class sections. Perhaps they had little time for sentimental thoughts of the finer things we had (wink!)

It appeared that our friendship had somehow transformed as least temporarily when we enter college, where we traverse separate tracks towards our future career. But I know that is just temporarily like what a friend of mine has told me, "That’s all right, Tel. She then gave a somewhat less-than-thunderous slap on my shoulder. Not very soft, but it was an improvement. This gave me a comfortable feeling.

Well, after high school I embarked another level of thinking. My writing habit has begun to absorb inks of my pens. I even joined the publication to somehow dream that I am at least on my first step in becoming like my grandma, a journalist (sigh!Attention and congratulations from people around me have become a part of my college years as well. I was completely captivated with writing and speaking which required a unique combination of flexibility, strength, grace and poise. I slowly improved my skills.

But at this point, I now realized that true wits is often hidden and concealed. The skills utilized during my activities still manifest itself in my own character. (To be continued hahaha!)

I was just a little girl then when I witnessed how artistic my clan was. I've looked up to my grandfather (the late Arch. Raul Atos Corral) - this post is dedicated to you my dear lolo. At young age, I told myself that I want to be an architect. I admired him so much by merely looking at him, sitting in front of his large table with different kinds of pen, coloring materials, triangle, a very long ruler, and also a large white paper where he did the light but fast strokes. As you look over the drawing, you'll see series of lines that can't be understand by a young girl like me, or even those who aren't fond of drawing. Until my dad came and told me not to disturb my lolo.

My dad and I went to the sala, and there he told me some ideas about what my Lolo's career was. I asked him a lot of questions so he decided to teach me the basic strokes in drafting a house. My dad was also an architect for me though he wasn't able to finish it in college. We started outlining the floor plan, then we moved on to the "perspective". I was really amazed when I saw the outcome of our drawing. It was just an ordinary house, but what amazed me was the fact that we only started it with series of lines which you may not think it'll become a "house". Since then, I kept myself locked in my room, doing several floor plans and simple perspectives, which were already a masterpiece for a little girl.

Years later, my loving lolo died. It hurts us so much. But just the thought of his kindness (as his first grandchild) uplifts my heart. One thing that instills in my mind and heart is the way he inspired me. Yes, I was really inspired to be an architect. I may not have a degree in architecture, but I know deep in my heart, I am longing to be like one.

I am continuously inspired when it comes to architecture because of my dad. He followed the career path of my grandfather. It feels good whenever I see my lolo's green book which is a compilation of all his blue prints, his masterpieces. My dad is also compiling his own since I was a kid, and I'm his critic.

I also shared my ideas on interior designs. Yes, aside from architecture, I'm also fond of interior designs. I think I'll pursue the latter since my dad doesn't want me to be an architect. But whatever happens, dreaming will always be a part of me...

February 1, 2008

I'm climbing my mountain, step-by-step

I'm Climbing my mountain, day-by-day

I'm climbing my mountain, all-the-way

I'm climbing my mountain... I'm gonna make it!

Take one step at a time, one step at a time...

I'm climbing my mountain, "ONE STEP AT A TIME!"


This is something I really need to find in my life-balance in every step I make. I'm usually good and doing all the things I need to for others, but I'm not always good and squeezing in the things I want to do. Through the Holy Spirit, I know that I can make it too. It may not be so soon, but at least I'm confident that it will come.

November 4, 2007

My thoughts were wandering when all of a sudden "Peter Pan" popped into my mind. Perhaps, you were able to watch it during your younger years. If I remember it right, "Peter Pan" is an animated TV series which was aired in ABS-CBN every morning, and later on was moved in the afternoon slot. I have come to realize that I really had good memories of my childhood days. I was just a 'lil kid then and an avid fan of "Peter Pan". And now, I'm already a "young" mom who wanted to share to my child the joy of watching animated TV series.

As I flew myself to Neverland, I came to know Peter who is a mischievous little boy who won't grow up. He is a fierce swordfighter who spends his never-ending childhood, adventuring on the island of Neverland as leader of the Lost Boys. What fascinated me were the fantastical elements involved. One of these elements is the ability of Peter Pan to fly.




His friends were also symbols of fantastical elements, namely fairy and Tinker Bell.


The funny thing about the story was a crocodile that has swallowed a ticking clock and stalks




Captain Hook, the pirate leader and Peter's nemesis.




It's been so long and I can only recall a few scenes which touched me the most. But for your convenience, if you were not able to watch it (since you are much older than me...wink!) here's the gist of the story...

Peter often visits the "real world" of London to listen in on bedtime stories told by Mrs. Mary Darling to her children. One night, Peter is spotted and, while trying to escape, he loses his shadow. On returning to claim his shadow, Peter wakes Mary's daughter, Wendy Darling. When Wendy succeeds in re-attaching his shadow to him, Peter takes a fancy to her and invites her to Neverland to be a mother to his gang of Lost Boys, the children who are lost in Kensington Gardens. Wendy agrees, and her brothers John and Michael go along. The great dangerous and magical flight to Neverland is followed by many adventures. The children are blown out of the air by a cannon and Wendy is nearly killed by the Lost Boy Tootles.

Peter and the Lost Boys build a little house for Wendy to live in while she recuperates (a structure that, to this day, is called a Wendy House.) Soon John and Michael adopt the ways of the Lost Boys, while Wendy plays the role of mothering them, all the while provoking the jealousy of Tinker Bell, Tiger Lily, and the mermaids. Peter is often oblivious, concentrating on real and make-believe adventures and on taunting the pirate Captain Hook. Later follow adventures at the Mermaids' Lagoon, the near deaths of Tinker Bell and Peter, a violent pirate/Indian massacre, and a climactic confrontation with Peter's nemesis, the pirate Captain Hook of the pirate ship the Jolly Roger. In the end, Wendy decides that her place is at home, much to the joy of her heartsick mother. Wendy then brings all the boys back to London. Peter remains in Neverland, promising to return and take Wendy back with him once a year to help him with his spring cleaning.

In the novel, Barrie includes an additional scene which was not in the play, but which he created for the stage under the title An Afterthought. In this scene, Peter returns to Wendy's house, not realizing that more than twenty years have passed since he took Wendy, John and Michael to Neverland, and that Wendy is now a married woman with a daughter, Jane. Confronted with the news, he breaks down and cries. Wendy leaves the room to try to think, and Peter's sobs awaken Jane, who asks him to take her with him to Neverland and to let her be his new mother. Peter joyfully accepts, and the two fly off together with Wendy sorrowfully looking off after them. Peter will now return for Jane once a year as he once promised to return for Wendy.

Peter's relationship with Jane is what the Disney movie Return to Neverland is based upon, but its plot is almost totally invented for the film; it has only the slightest resemblance to Barrie.

The memories of "Peter Pan" will always be a part of my childhood days. I've learned a lot from it. It taught me the value of "love" (kinikilig na me nyan sa murang isipan, lolz!), how to be a responsible sister even at young age (which I didn't put into practice, sigh), how to fight for justice, and a lot more. But what amazed me was the animation used in the series. It inspires me to dream a lot even beyond my reach ( it's free anyway).

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