the double shot blended brewed coffee effect

After the double shot blended brewed coffee at Café Antonio, I felt like a fool wondering why I am unable to sleep. Duh?

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After the double shot blended brewed coffee at Café Antonio, I felt like a fool wondering why I am unable to sleep. Duh? But then, that’s my normal (read: n-o-r-m-a-l) caffeine consumption. So why would this be different? I usually fall asleep minutes after getting home. I tried the closing-your-eyes thing and then hope you’ll fall asleep. Not working!(Obviously…)

I’m hoping I could finally start jogging once more – on a regular,no-excuses basis, that is. As I write, my humble cd-r king mp3 player is charging in preparation for a hopefully one-hour jog the field later this morning. Hopefully, I would be out by 4 am – hopefully. I remember my journalism professor in college saying that when you have that urge to write, write. Just write. Hmmn, since I cannot get enough sleep no matter how hard I concentrate on not thinking about anything, words seem to fill this head of mine. Because of the double shot blended brewed coffee? Hmmn…

I’m glad I writing more these days. However, I’m also afraid I might be overdoing it. I have the tendency to overdo things. It’s my default setting. So here I am thinking of a topic worthy of submitting for consideration of publishing. Nothing. Off to jog

(Abrupt transitions, I know. :))

booksale finds

Sometimes, one does not have to know how to achieve or complete what of a to-do entry. Starting is what requires great effort. Once one has started, it’s just a matter of figuring things out, one way or the other (with varying difficulty :)). Most of the time, even if you do have a clear idea of what you expect to happen, something shifts, causing everything to change. How you respond to these changes – the unexpected things – is what matters.

09062009  (Saturday) – I was on my way home struggling with my groceries, student outputs that I hope I get to edit, and an umbrella when I passed by this store I used to frequent. This bookstore also sold previously owned books. This is were I get my supply of 15-peso worth Mills & Boons (the old ones, really old ones) and novels priced 20 up to 100 pesos. I set my limit to 100 pesos :).

Passing by this store, I realize how long it has been since I last visited the place, which can then be translated to how long I have NOT been reading (disregarding management textbooks and required readings for my cognate). A meter past the store and I decided to find a book – groceries, outputs, and all.

Nope, no, nah, too bloody, too romantic, have read this, not  good author, too expensive for the story, … and the comments continued as I finished browsing the two sides of the shelf. An alarm blaring inside my head, I’m already at the kids’ section. I’m that desperate to buy a book! Then I thought, I can read it and then give it to my four-year-old nephew. But then, are the stocks this bad? Or have I become too choosy for a previously owned book reader?

I have scanned the kids’ section (heck, even the adult section), magazines, – and then I saw the hardcover books at the corner of the store. Hardcover books are usually more expensive – even for used books.

I did find two books I liked – price and content. (Price as the priority :))

I got The Sunday List of Dreams (Paperback) by Kris Radish for 20Php and Mary Higgins-Clark’s The Lottery Winner: Alvirah and Willy Stories (Hardcover) for 40Php. The latter is a collection of Higgins-Clark’s thriller novels, which I have already read separately, but plan on re-reading (someday – hopefully soon).

It’s The Sunday List of Dreams that I got to finish during the long weekend. It’s about a retiree named Connie and her list of dreams (hence, the title :)).  We all have our own “lists” but the problem is that they remain as lists. There’s nothing wrong in drafting a list as long as one remembers to actually do these things. Most get stuck with preparing the best list, or figuring out a way how to make the list more organized, more achievable or doable – everything but doing it. The novel encourages people to go out and chase those dreams no matter how far fetched they may be.

DSC01929

Sometimes, one does not have to know how to achieve or complete what of a to-do entry. Starting is what requires great effort. Once one has started, it’s just a matter of  figuring things out, one way or the other (with varying difficulty :)). Most of the time, even if you do have a clear idea of what you expect to happen, something shifts, causing everything to change. How you respond to these changes – the unexpected things – is what matters.

playback

I do not know exactly what it is about these kilig moments that give one the strength to survive even the worst day – even months

Most females has a habit creating kilig situations in that vast world we call imagination. I do not know exactly what it is about these kilig moments that give one the strength to survive even the worst day – even months. One kilig moment is enough to keep one going for a month – or more, depending on one’s capability to hold on to the details of a memory. It seems to function as an energy or power source for us.

If it happens in reality, somewhere in our mind is a record button automatically clicked, taking note of all the details of the background, the characters, et cetera. After the kilig moment, the female mind then can playback what happened, reliving the moment. (The playback may require a certain degree of silence, … – basically, an environment suited for being alone with one’s thoughts). That’s what most refer to as being in a trance or people losing focus or being in one’s own world, – whatever. They all refer to the same thing.

expecting it easy

“An easy exam is an insult to your intellect,” I blurted out in one class after they complained about how difficult their first exam was. In my thoughts, I added “If you expect things to be easy for college, you’re definitely in the wrong university.”

It comes as a constant surprise how people tend to assume that things will happen will little effort. I’m surrounded by students who have made a habit of complaining how hard things are for them. There is a between great difference being  positive person and a person who expects things to be easy.

This observation I found more strange since the university I am working for is known for accepting only the better half Filipino students in terms of intellect – in my knowledge, that is. Expecting easy examinations and exercises is expecting rain in a desert.

Until now, I still cannot figure out why.

“An easy exam is an insult to your intellect,” I blurted out in one class after they complained about how difficult their first exam was. In my thoughts, I added “If you expect things to be easy for college, you’re definitely in the wrong university.”

sisters

Sisters always remember, they forgive, they give – more than what you ask for and even if you have not yet asked for it. Even before you realized you needed it.

I went home during the weekend and I’m glad I did. Everything was worth it. I’ve constantly used lack of financial resources as my reason – excuse rather – for not going home. Now I regret not coming home as often as I could.

August 30 is our town’s fiesta in honor of St. Rose of Lima, our parish saint. I’m not religious. Let me make that clear. I did not even get to enter the town church during my 21-hour stay in town. I did not even get to spent a whole day in Bacacay – a pity. But it did make me appreciate a lot of things – family, traditions, company,  et cetera.

It was on the eve of August 30th that my two elder sisters and I got to gather for a drinking session. Our eldest sister was not able to come because she has to review for her upcoming examination. Our “sessions” usually start with us sharing what’s happening at works, social life, and of course us being females, the romance department [the details of which I won’t divulge of course].

It was then that I became aware of how special the concept of “sisterhood” is. There is that bond that connects all of you no matter how far one lives from the other or how long you’ve last conversed. Being sisters go beyond coming from the same set of parents, one womb, or growing up together. It’s amazing how such bond can strengthen after just a few hours of conversation and more-than-a-few glasses of alcohol. It’s caring more for another more than you would for yourself. It’s like being unwilling to spend for yourself and then dropping all financial restraint when the other needs the support badly.

Never have I thought that I see them in this light – or perhaps it comes with age (this coming from a 22-year-old 🙂 ). At the time that I lived in the same house with them, I saw them as superior beings who ordered me around – against my will. They had this power that could bring me into submission -forcibly. I resented the authority they had over me. Maybe it was the Cinderella complex, the belief that everybody is treating me unfairly, the look-at-me-piteous-me state that I lived in for quite a while.

Once one grows out of that stage, things do change. Of course, they still had occasional power trips but nothing that would cause me to loathe them. And I did loathe them for a while (more on the dislike part of loathing). Those are the memories I find myself amused with. Without those memories, growing up with four older sisters would have been duller – less brawls, dramatics, shouting – it definitely would have been dull.

Funny thing is, what made you dislike them before tightens the bond you have today. The more fights you had, the more moments can can both laugh at.

Sisters always remember, they forgive, they give – more than what you ask for and even if you have not yet asked for it. Even before you realized you needed it.

a little pampering

It’s hard to believe how 45 minutes can make one feel way better about everything – all due to a little pampering. I just wish I could submit to it regularly. But doing so will weaken or make me lose the appreciation I have for occasional back massages – plus it’s more economical :).

Another draft left idle for quite some time.

This is an attempt to continue – and finish entries I have started and failed to finish because I convinced myself that I had something better to do at the time – basically excuses. I found myself becoming a factory of one these past months.

August 25, 2009 – I decided to get that massage I longed for almost a month already. I kept telling myself “I’m not yet that tired. I have to reserve the massage for that one really tiring day.” Becoming increasingly aware of my upper back throbbing from all the hours I’ve spent hunched facing the computer or desk – or both in the past weeks, I declared August 25 as the day.

The masseuse took pity on my strained shoulder and tried to relax the shoulder muscles – meaning a few minutes more than the usual massage time. I’ve never felt so worthy of that type of pampering even drifting to sleep (to my embarrassment). Good thing, no one was scheduled to have their massage immediately after me.

It’s hard to believe how 45 minutes can make one feel way better about everything – all due to a little pampering. I just wish I could submit to it regularly. But doing so will weaken or make me lose the appreciation I have for occasional back massages – plus it’s more economical :).

That’s me being cheap.

being on the receiving end

If when for each comment I get an excuse, I sit there thinking “I’m not asking you why it looks like this or that. I am telling you that if would look better if you changed this font style to make it more credible.” I hate excuses. Lazy and unwilling – that is what I get from all these excuses. You want me to accept your outputs as is? Tell you its good? Then make them worthy of such comments. I don’t have high standards. These were the standards even during my time. If people can’t level to these standards, the standard is not the problem.

Part of my job is to edit and comment on the students’ outputs – basically to identify what they can still improve in their outputs.

What I have observed is that their reaction to comments, criticisms, and suggestions seem to become more negative as time passes. In my days as a student, I treasured all the comments of my professors in my outputs. It made me feel like they really read and scrutinized my output – and I was very thankful for that. Even though I knew I would be getting criticisms, I  looked forward to reading them. I was impatient to know what areas I can still improve on. I knew it was through those comments that I will improve. I never saw it as an attack to my intellect or my concept.

I do not know why some students view it the other way taking comments personally. When I comment on outputs and provide suggestions, I think of how the student can improve that project. I never enjoyed writing those comments just to spite them. I won’t waste my time doing just that. If I wanted to irritate them, I just give them all a relatively low grade and not write a single comment. It would save me a lot of effort and time.

If when for each comment I get an excuse, I sit there thinking “I’m not asking you why it looks like this or that. I am telling you that if would look better if you changed this font style to make it more credible.” I hate excuses. Lazy and unwilling – that is what I get from all these excuses. You want me to accept your outputs as is? Tell you its good? Then make them worthy of such comments. I don’t have high standards. These were the standards even during my time – perhaps even before that. If people can’t level to these standards, the standard is not the problem.

To be on the receiving end of such comments is a test of one’s professionalism. It trains one to not wallow in the mistakes one made but to focus what can be done to make the output better. Embracing one’s mistakes is part of being able to improve oneself. We get the best lessons through our biggest mistakes and the worst comments we have received.