Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Beware the Bender Ball

I worked in the Customer Service industry for a very short while. One month as one of those poor agents that get yelled at and about three months training those poor agents that get yelled at. Out of all the stuff to memorize and learn, I remember this the most: Never piss a customer off (if it can be helped) because that pissed off customer will tell about 8 other potential customers who will eventually tell 8 other potential customers each, and so on and so for, ad infinitum.

Well, this customer is hoping to reach thousands, so hang on to your seats and see if you like them apples.

N.B. I know that much of the crap those goes on in these industries are really the big boss' faults. So this rant is directed to you big corporate bullies who think you can get away with swindling your innocent customers and letting your poor agents get all the flak.
My husband ordered a Bender Ball late last year. (No, I'm not providing you a link to that awful site...don't buy from them! You'll be seeing this warning a lot, by the way. It's a counter-marketing thing...) It's one of those small balls that help you do crunches (my husband's an exercise nut.) It arrived about a month after. Twice. We didn't order for another one, but since it was only about 10 bucks, we figured the hassle of returning the product wasn't worth it (they usually just refund the price of the product and not shipping and handling anyway, so why the ef bother, right?)

Quick Aside:
The ball sucks. And I'm not just saying that to be spiteful. It sucks. If you have a small child who is need of a small ball that's safe enough to play with, this might be just the thing you need. Otherwise, don't bother. Don't buy from them! 


Anyway, fast forward to today. We get another package. It's a dish doohickey that's Barney purple. No, it's the-purple-that-Barney-would-turn-into-if-he-were-gagged. Double gag. Apparently, some people would consider this some kind of exercise apparatus. We think it's something our dog would chew on for a good 53.76  hours. (Yes, it's an exact science. Shuddup.)

So I call the 1-800 number that I had to find by myself. It wasn't on the package. I had to google the bloody address on the package. At first, they didn't have our records. The poor (but idiotic) agent, at the height of her panic, lost the connection. So I called again and got a more competent agent. Too bad though, because I was already beyond irate. Turns out, by ordering that benign ball for about 10 bucks, they managed to slip in other products that would "complement" our product into the mix. The agent said that the person with whom we placed the order should have informed us about this, but she didn't. I swear by this and would give my firstborn child, because I was on that call, and I know these clauses, and I specifically said we were not interested.

This fugly dish cum chew toy? $43.97!!! Not bad for a companion product to a 10 buck crappy ball, eh!?!?! 

Don't buy from them! EVER!!!
THESE PEOPLE ARE HORRIBLE CAPITALIST PRICKS WHO ARE OUT TO ROB EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US, I TELL YA!!!

*deep breath*
*counting 1 to 1000*
*still not working*

So we're going to return the bloody dish, we're going to get our refund, but we'll be charged for shipping and handling. Twice. Once for the effin' dish to come here when we didn't order for it, and again to send it to them.

Gah!!!


NEVER EVER BUY THE BENDER BALL!!! EVER!!!

Friday, March 7, 2008

Every Girl Every Boy



Here's another one. :-)

For the record though, I think the women should be women without having to strip men of their masculinity. That's heterosexually speaking, of course.



Female and Male Privilege

You were warned. Here cometh the onslaught of Feminist posts...:-)


From Women in Higher Education, March 2006, www.wihe.com



THE LAST LAUGH:
A Female Privilege Checklist
Volume 15 (3), p. 32
Mary Dee Wenniger, Editor and Publisher

When I first heard Wellesley Professor Peggy McIntosh discuss her 1989 essay on “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack,” at a conference, I was moved.

Male privileges

I recently became aware of “The Male Privilege Checklist,” (found below - K) subtitled “An Unabashed Imitation of an Article by Peggy McIntosh.” It was written by Barry Deutsch, a cartoonist and humorist on the staff of the online Expository Magazine, a source of feminist thought and expression, where it appeared in the September 2004 issue.

Listed are 43 items of male privilege, which include males being more likely to be hired, promoted, elected, free of fear of harassment and rape, not expected to do the “most dirty, repetitive and unrewarding tasks” of homemaking and childrearing. Item 43 is, “I have the privilege of being unaware of my male privilege.”

Female privileges

In contemplating the list with a colleague, we looked at the reverse, and created this list of 25 female privileges. Feel free to share, post, add to or comment on it, being careful to note the inspiration from Peggy McIntosh and Barry Deutsch.

1. I am physically able to give birth to another human being, and then do my best to mold her or him into the kind of person I choose.

2. I am not automatically expected to be the family breadwinner.

3. I feel free to wear a wide variety of clothes, from jeans to skimpy shorts to dresses as appropriate, without fear of ridicule.

4. I can choose to remain seated to meet most people.

5. I am not ashamed to ask for others’ perspectives on an issue.

6. I feel free to exhibit a wide range of emotions, from tears to genuine belly laughter, without being told to shut up.

7. My stereotypical excesses in shopping, clothes, jewelry, personal care and consumption of chocolate usually are expected, even the source of jokes.

8. Public policies generally offer me an opportunity to bond with my offspring.

9. I am among the first to get off a sinking ship.

10. I can usually find someone with superior strength to help me overcome physically challenging obstacles, such as changing a tire or cutting a huge Christmas tree.

11. Changing my mind is seen as a birthright or prerogative.

12. I feel free to explore alternate career paths instead of being bound to a single career ladder.

13. I am used to asking for help, around the kitchen table or the proverbial water cooler or the conference room.

14. People I’ve never met are inclined to hold doors open and give up their seats for me.

15. I can be proud of the skill I have worked to develop at stretching limited financial resources.

16. I am not ashamed of using alternatives to positional power to reach my goals.

17. I know how to put a new roll of toilet paper in use and am not above doing it for the next person.

18. I am not ashamed to admit that the decisions I make reflect my personal values.

19. I am not afraid to create and maintain honest relationships with others.

20. I do not fear being accused of having an ethic of care in my professional life.

21. When I enter an office, I am likely to encounter those who can help me “in low places.”

22. I am more likely to get hugs than handshakes, depending on the situation.

23. I am less likely to be seen as a threat, which allows me more subtle alternatives.

24. I can use men’s “sheer fear of tears” to my advantage.

25. I can complain that these female privileges are relatively minor compared with the vast assortment of dominant male privileges, but I wouldn’t change places for the world.

Thanks, Peggy and Barry, for reminding women that there are times when we do enjoy the last laugh.

The Male Privilege Checklist

An Unabashed Imitation of an article by Peggy McIntosh

1. My odds of being hired for a job, when competing against female applicants, are probably skewed in my favor. The more prestigious the job, the larger the odds are skewed.

2. I can be confident that my co-workers won’t think I got my job because of my sex - even though that might be true.

3. If I am never promoted, it’s not because of my sex.

4. If I fail in my job or career, I can feel sure this won’t be seen as a black mark against my entire sex’s capabilities.

5. I am far less likely to face sexual harassment at work than my female co-workers are.).

6. If I do the same task as a woman, and if the measurement is at all subjective, chances are people will think I did a better job.

7. If I’m a teen or adult and if I can stay out of prison, my odds of being raped are fairly low.

8. On average, I am taught to fear walking alone after dark in average public spaces much less than my female counterparts are.

9. If I choose not to have children, my masculinity will not be called into question.

10. If I have children but do not provide primary care for them, my masculinity will not be called into question.

11. If I have children and provide primary care for them, I’ll be praised for extraordinary parenting if I’m even marginally competent..

12. If I have children and a career, no one will think I’m selfish for not staying at home.

13. If I seek political office, my relationship with my children, or who I hire to take care of them, will probably not be scrutinized by the press.

14. My elected representatives are mostly people of my own sex. The more prestigious and powerful the elected position, the more this is true.

15. When I ask to see “the person in charge,” odds are I will face a person of my own sex. The higher-up in the organization the person is, the surer I can be.

16. As a child, chances are I was encouraged to be more active and outgoing than my sisters.

17. As a child, chances are I got more teacher attention than girls who raised their hands just as often.

18. As a child, I could choose from an almost infinite variety of children’s media featuring positive, active, non-stereotyped heroes of my own sex. I never had to look for it; male protagonists were (and are) the default.

19. If my day, week or year is going badly, I need not ask of each negative episode or situation whether or not it has sexist overtones.

20. I can turn on the television or glance at the front page of the newspaper and see people of my own sex widely represented, every day, without exception.

21. If I’m careless with my financial affairs it won’t be attributed to my sex.

22. If I’m careless with my driving it won’t be attributed to my sex.

23. I can speak in public to a large group without putting my sex on trial.

24. Even if I sleep with a lot of women, there is no chance that I will be seriously labeled a “slut,” nor is there any male counterpart to “slut-bashing.”

25. I do not have to worry about the message my wardrobe sends about my sexual availability or my gender conformity.

26. My clothing is typically less expensive and better-constructed than women’s clothing for the same social status. While I have fewer options, my clothes will probably fit better than a woman’s without tailoring.

27. The grooming regimen expected of me is relatively cheap and consumes little time.

28. If I buy a new car, chances are I’ll be offered a better price than a woman buying the same car.

29. If I’m not conventionally attractive, the disadvantages are fairly small and easy to ignore.

30. I can be loud with no fear of being called a shrew. I can be aggressive with no fear of being called a bitch.

31. I can ask for legal protection from violence that happens mostly to men without being seen as a selfish special interest, since that kind of violence is called “crime” and is a general social concern. (Violence that happens mostly to women is usually called “domestic violence” or “acquaintance rape,” and is seen as a special interest issue.)

32. I can be confident that the ordinary language of day-to-day existence will always include my sex. “All men are created equal,” mailman, chairman, freshman, he.

33. My ability to make important decisions and my capability in general will never be questioned depending on what time of the month it is.

34. I will never be expected to change my name upon marriage or questioned if I don’t change my name.

35. The decision to hire me will never be based on assumptions about whether or not I might choose to have a family sometime soon.

36. Every major religion in the world is led primarily by people of my own sex. Even God, in most major religions, is pictured as male.

37. Most major religions argue that I should be the head of my household, while my wife and children should be subservient to me.

38. If I have a wife or live-in girlfriend, chances are we’ll divide up household chores so that she does most of the labor, and in particular the most repetitive and unrewarding tasks.

39. If I have children with a wife or girlfriend, chances are she’ll do most of the childrearing, and in particular the most dirty, repetitive and unrewarding parts of childrearing.

40. If I have children with a wife or girlfriend, and it turns out that one of us needs to make career sacrifices to raise the kids, chances are we’ll both assume the career sacrificed should be hers.

41. Magazines, billboards, television, movies, pornography, and virtually all of media is filled with images of scantily-clad women intended to appeal to me sexually. Such images of men exist, but are rarer.

42. In general, I am under much less pressure to be thin than my female counterparts are. If I am fat, I probably suffer fewer social and economic consequences for being fat than fat women do.

43. If I am heterosexual, it’s incredibly unlikely that I’ll ever be beaten up by a spouse or lover.

44. Complete strangers generally do not walk up to me on the street and tell me to “smile.”

45. On average, I am not interrupted by women as often as women are interrupted by men.

46. I have the privilege of being unaware of my male privilege.

(Compiled by Barry Deutsch, aka “Ampersand.” Permission is granted to reproduce this list in any way, so long as the acknowledgment of Peggy McIntosh’s work is not removed. (This is a continually updated document; the most current version of The Male Privilege Checklist can always be found here . To see posts discussing the Male Privilege Checklist and various items on it, please visit this archive page).



Feminism Test

This is pretty accurate (surprisingly.) I'm a Libertarian, so this makes sense.

Yes, this is for a class I'm taking :-). We're done with Race, now we're on Sex/Gender. As my husband said, "Oh noooooo...Watch out. She only looks small, but..."

Bring it on. ;-)

.....

Your Score: Revisionist

You scored 66% Gender-Abolitionist, 100% Sexually Liberal, and 60 % Socialist

You are the Revisionist Feminist!  You are, by far, the most philosophical, the most sexually-liberated, and the most politically extreme variety of feminist.  You are very, very freedom-oriented.  You abhor oppression in all forms.  For instance, your views on sexual liberation and reproductive control adequately reflect your devotion to personal freedom.  Not only that, but you also feel gender needs to be destroyed to maximize equality and freedom, because accepting socially-constructed gender roles binds women into false categories and places upon them an unneeded identity.  Gender should not be a part of one's identity, but rather an irrelevant aspect of their physical bodies, such as their hair length or nose shape.  Not only that, but Revisionist Feminists are political extremists and feel very strongly that the oppression of class society is a big part of the cause of women's oppression.  Basically, a Revisionist feels that cultural ideas of gender, political class, and repressive sexual morality all work together to oppress women, and the only way to truly escape this oppression is to challenge all of these problems directly and extremely.  You are a Marxist, a Gender Abolitionist, and a Liberal Feminist all rolled into one.
The other feminist types:
The Housewife
The Marxist
The Liberal
The Liberal Extremist
The Gender Abolitionist
The Radical
The Gender-Liberal
The Revisionist     
This is the The Feminism Test written by saint_gasoline 

Monday, March 3, 2008

WANTED: Old Wives' Tales

So, my husband and I have been trying to get pregnant since October. Today was supposed to be the "safe" day to check (meaning, I would have been late for the correct amount of time), but then I got my period. My body is mocking me, I tell you. It lures me into thinking that this could probably be it...and then it spits out my joyful expectation in gooey...well, you know.

I've been to the doctor - I know when I'm supposed to be ovulating, I know that I shouldn't be drinking/smoking/taking drugs/base jumping (you get the picture), I'm taking pre-natal vitamins, and I'm drinking vats of water (for goodness knows what...but my doctor told me to do it, so I do it).

I've had it with sound, medical, scientific advice.

While I will continue to be a good patient and do everything my doctor tells me to do...I would like to open the floor to any pamahiins (old wives' tales) you have up your sleeve. For as long as it doesn't require me to do anything early in the morning (I'm a late sleeper and a late riser), I'm game. So please...any suggestions? (And yes, I've wiki-how-ed this thing...and I'm on it like butter on bread.)

In the meantime, I shall continue to drink all my pre-natal crap (that smell kinda funny), storm the high heavens with my prayers, and watch Sesame Street bawling my eyes out, wondering when in the world will I get to watch this show with one of my kids.

(Oh, and P.S. - have you guys seen Maria's daughter? She's all grown up! When did that happen???)

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Forgiveness

"Racial harmony is less important than racial equity. Why can't we all just get along? Why can't we just have peace on earth? Why are 'those people' so angry? Here's what I've come up with. There can be no peace without justice. There can be no justice without equity. So if we want peace and harmony, all we have to do is provide equity. Who's ready?"

We were required to read Shifts of Consciousness for Well-Intentioned Liberals for class (adapted from Paul C. Gorski, Ed Change. More information here) for class. We had to write a short response to what we read, and this is what I wrote:

Of all the suggestions from our reading (there were 8 in all), the one I quoted above was the one that struck me the most. It got me thinking about the value of justice versus the value of mercy - of forgiveness.

Frankly, I am exhausted with all this racial introspection. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that I don't want to talk about it anymore. I'm just saying that I'm tired because it is very emotionally taxing for me to keep scrutinizing who I am in terms of what my race is - and how that affects others whose race does not match mine. So yes, at this point, oversimplification sounds almost too tempting to refuse because there comes a point when my mind is just too punch-drunk to keep thinking of new ways to understand the problem and its accompanying almost-too-impossible-to-achieve solutions.

There is a lot of anger when we talk about racism - and rightfully so. It is difficult to let go of that anger especially since racism is still alive and well at this day and age. But...and I'm saying this as an attempt to oversimplify as well...what about forgiveness?

Yes, it's difficult to forgive years of oppression. Yes, it's difficult to forgive the people who believe there is nothing to forgive. But isn't that what forgiveness is about? Now that I've thought about it...maybe this oversimplification isn't so simple after all. Forgiveness is difficult and entails a lot of work. The ability to forgive is almost as difficult as admitting that one needs to be forgiven. But in the midst of all the finger-pointing, the one thing that keeps going in my mind is forgiveness. Is it difficult? Yes. Is it impossible? No. It shouldn't be.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just tired. Ask me again in a few days and I might be back in fighting form. But right now, forgiveness seems worth the effort.

"The quality of mercy is not strained.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown.
His scepter shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings.
But mercy is above this sceptered sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings;
It is an attribute of God himself;
And earthly power doth then show like God's
When mercy seasons justice."
(Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice, 4.1.191-204)

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Intent and Effect

Had dinner and had a long warm shower. I feel exhausted. I cried in class tonight, well, after class.

So there we were, talking about Conflict Theory and Functionalism - how the dominant class imposes universal norms on the subordinate class, creating false consciousness that fosters a hegemony. It was unavoidable, then, to talk about the different classes and how people who earn less usually go to schools that do not provide a curriculum that is as challenging and fulfilling as the curriculum of the schools where the more economically advantaged go. In effect, in a functionalist society, "poor" kids get "bad" education, and therefore land low-paying jobs; while "rich" kids get "good" education, and therefore land high-paying jobs. The "poor" remain "poor," the "rich" remain "rich." However, functionalists argue that if an individual tries "hard enough," he/she will eventually succeed. Conflict Theory (which yes, borrows a lot from Marxism) says that this isn't necessarily true, therefore the subordinate class must create conflict to instigate change.

The discussion turned into the role of education in our functionalist society and the roles we, as teachers, take in the propagation of one theory over the other. One of my classmates said that while it is unfortunate that class dictate who becomes successful in life, at the end of the day, she would prefer a surgeon who had good grades in school rather than a surgeon who did so-so in school - and in effect, choosing the surgeon who came from a "good" school.

Another classmate, however, felt that grades did not necessarily reflect the skill of a person in the real world. He gave himself as an example. He said that he did poorly in school, but he thinks he's doing pretty well as a teacher. He even went so far as to say, "I wouldn't want a teacher who had a 4.0 GPA in college to go near my kids. He wouldn't know how to speak to my daughter."

Well.

I might not have gotten a 4.0 GPA, but I did pretty well in school. I would've been excellent had Math not been a requirement (curse you, Mathematics!) and I am now maintaining a 4.0 GPA in grad school (whew, no more Math). But I don't want my performance in school to be held against me. Bad grades should not be used to make untrue and hasty generalizations about people's performance in the real world - and neither should good grades! I told him that it was unfair to make those statements, especially since it implied that I would not be an effective teacher. Schooling is not the only factor that influences a person's ability. I grew up in a third world nation where good education is a luxury, even though it is said that it is a right.  Does that not at least affect my effectiveness in the classroom with regards to being able to reach out to the students who are doing poorly in school? I think that that should be enough grounds to say that I would know "how to speak" to that that guy's daughter. Bad grades do not a person make, and neither do good grades. I refuse to believe that my being a good student deters me from being a well-rounded person! I told him that he should not be making generalizations about one extreme while desiring not to be held against the generalizations made about the other extreme.

Suddenly, Mark (not his real name), another classmate of mine said he had had it with the generalizations made in class. He took offense with how the class was using words like "They" and "Them" to stress how the subordinate class was this entity that was so separate from who they were ("they" meaning my classmates). As a teacher in a racially diverse school, he felt that the least the class could do was to name "them" if they were going to talk about "their" situation. African American. Latino. Asians. Poor.

Well, that opened a nasty can of worms. Immediately, my other classmates went on the defensive. He was telling the class the disappointment he felt and the others took it against him. Up until that point in class, I was limiting myself to the theoretical arguments about functionalism and conflict theory. There were a lot of generalizations going around and I chose not to play the race chip, even though there were only two other girls who were not white (one was African American, the other was Latina). I always find it interesting (to put it mildly) to watch white people talk about racism and class inequality and see them talk about it passionately. I often wonder what they would feel like if they were the ones who were different. But here was a white man (and in any society, that is the best representative of any dominant class: educated, white, male) and he was standing up for me and the other "people of color"! He was a virtual stranger, but I felt as if he knew exactly what I was feeling.

At one of the lulls that followed the heated arguments, I said that there is a difference between intent and effect. While the others might not have intended their words to have that effect, the effect is undeniable. Mark was offended, and frankly, so was I. He just had the chutzpah to say it, I didn't. And in the final analysis, I think effect is more important. Intent is debatable, effect is undeniable. I couldn't understand how my classmates' resentment over the perceived accusation of some mild form of racism takes precedence over Mark's real offense to the language my classmates inadvertently used.

The class ended soon after that because we really were at a standstill. Tempers were flaring and it was really very uncomfortable. When everyone was filing out, I shook his hand and said, "Thank you." I meant to say more, but I couldn't let go of his hand and I started to cry. I was so overwhelmed by his bravery to speak up for someone who was so unlike him. Finally, since I couldn't let go of his hand (because I could hardly stand anymore), he hugged me and he said, "Thank you."

Wow.


Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Dreaming A Nation To Be

School's definitely back. I wrote this as a requirement for a class. We were asked to think about "nation" - what it means, how is formed, etc. I ended up writing this. I wasn't bargaining on it being this personal, but there you go.

I can't wait to go back home.

Edited on: 1/15/2008. I added a few things to my paper so I edited it here as well. :-) Some parts from the original paper are left out, though, as they are very personal in nature.

***

My family and I moved to Grand Rapids on 2001. I had just graduated from college and idealism was flowing quite healthily through my veins. I did not want to move to the States – at the point when we moved, I had already begun living on my own and I wanted to stay behind and do my own thing in the Philippines. Kicking and screaming though, I joined my family.

I never shared my fellow Filipinos’ fascination with the US. I have tons of kababayans (Filipino for “countrymen.” Bayan means “country.” The prefix ka- is the same as “co-" in “co-worker”) living illegally in this country because it promises more money, more stability, and more opportunities for growth. I, on the other hand, am afflicted with the haughtiness that comes with the city-born and bred upper-middle class. Growing up, I already had money, I already had stability, and I already had opportunities for growth. Instead of viewing America as a land of opportunity, I thought it was the land of excess. I resented it because my country always saw itself as inferior in relation to America.

When 9/11 happened, my heart went out to those who died and to those who were left behind. To combat the growing hatred against foreigners that came in its aftershock, I remember seeing an ad campaign airing over and over again. A diverse bunch of individuals were saying the words, “I am an American.” They managed to pick individuals that looked nothing like each other, and their message was clear: stop picking on the foreigners. Despite best efforts though, for the first time in my life, I felt horribly different. Suddenly, we were the enemy just because we were different. We live in Grand Rapids, and we couldn’t be more different than all the other Van Somethings and De Somethings.

I decided to go back home after just 6 months in the US. When I got back home, I embraced my idealism with vim and vigor. I was determined to make something of myself, and I tried to turn my back away from my bourgeoisie background. What I ended up doing was a compromise between my idealistic and pragmatic self: I became a teacher, I helped shape the next generation…in an exclusive, prestigious, and expensive Catholic all-boys high school. I was teaching boys who had pretty much the same hoity-toity background I have, but I wanted them to realize that they could and should go beyond that. I still wonder how effectively I was able to do that.

Now, I live here in Grand Rapids again, with my husband, as a full time graduate student. I still harbor the same resentments I had before, albeit now with a tinge of sadness. It was a sad day when I grew old enough to realize that my parents were human and made mistakes – it’s the same now that I see that America isn’t so great after all. I am more forgiving of the US and its citizens. Ignorance more than hatred fuels so many of its people and while it is a constant struggle to remind myself to rise above the situation, I know I need to; the scornful look, the hushed voices, or worse, the quasi-benign, overly-saccharine smiles of condescension notwithstanding.

Reading about Beowulf’s journey to Denmark, to help a nation that wasn’t his own, I started rethinking about the guilt I felt at abandoning my own country. When Beowulf and his company arrived at Denmark, Hrothgar’s herald and officer said, “Stoutness of heart / bravery not banishment, must have brought you to / Hrothgar” (337-339). Beowulf saw a huge challenge awaiting him at Hrothgar’s kingdom, and he took it, and ultimately, his success there began what was to be his great legacy. His experiences in a different country allowed him to be a better ruler for his own country. I could only wish to do the same as a teacher.

I believe that a nation relies mostly on its people for its identity and I struggle with this because I am trying my best to define who I am in the context of my home country and the country that now educates me – so that I may educate my own people. I am but one person, but I know I help define my nation; in the same way I know that one racist (insert swear word) does not define this nation.

But it is problematic to define what a nation is because people are no longer limited by borders. My being over and beyond the borders of my country has made me think more about my nation and my nationality more. I now look and think about my nationality in terms of how it is shaped by my being here. I am more known for my nationality now more than ever (pretty much the same way that Beowulf was the Geat who saved the Danes) and I find that I have to disconnect who I am from where I come from long enough to understand how those two aspects of myself are intrinsically joined. I live in a constant state of juxtaposition and while the situation may not be the most comfortable, the realizations bring much comfort.

Yes, too many of us are hungry for food, education, attention, and the chance to make a better life. I listen to my classmates who teach in cushy districts and they complain of inattentive students and I think about the children back home who have to make do with the shade of a mango tree for a classroom. And they have to compete with ants to sit on the muddy soil underneath it. I think of the teacher who teaches 50-70 students at a time for a pittance, who chooses to remain in the country to teach despite the exodus of other teachers to become domestic helpers in countries far and away. But we laugh, and boy how we laugh. And we dream, and we have big dreams.

It’s snowing again outside and I’ll probably have another bowl of cold cereal for breakfast and that’s about as un-Filipino as my morning can get (oh, to have the warmth of a muggy, tropical sun, and the smell of roasting garlic and rice!) This paper has also taken a life of its own – I did not intend for it to be thing long and personal. But this is precisely why I am grateful to be here: to study, to be outside my comfort zone, and to learn things I otherwise would never have learned had I not left home – so that I could go back home and hopefully be a better teacher. A friend of mine said that there is a resurgence of the desire to either go back home or give back to our country within our generation of Filipinos living abroad. Dare I say, we are going to be the ones who will define our nation.



Monday, November 26, 2007

Call Me Algernon and Bring Me Flowers

Yes, I know, it's been ages.

I've done nothing but do school work and I'm getting pretty bummed out (yes, Thanksgiving festivities notwithstanding - but we did go Black Friday shopping...).

There are actually more things on my mind but I can't seem to bring myself to write them down - writing them down would make it more real, and I'm on ultra denial mode right now. I'll indulge in a few soul-cleansing sobs when I'm done with all my papers.

Depression used to control me, now I'm scheduling my next bout of it. This getting old thing might actually be good for something (yes, sadly, I turned 27 since the last post. Even that was pretty uneventful).

It's just that with the advent of all these memes, Facebook applications, and mindless surveys, it's easy to think that I'm already sharing my feelings. Or at least dealing with them. But I'm not - I feel like I'm whoring my superficiality to the world. I have one "friend" from Friendster (geez, can you see how bad it is? I have a Friendster, Multiply, and Facebook account! I also have Ruckus, Shelfari, and Snapfish accounts...And still I feel so detached from the world!) who does nothing but put up surveys he has answered. Really. That's. All. He. Does. I don't want to end up like him! I don't want to end up being someone's quotation-marked-friend ("friend")!!!

I guess, in the same way that too much pre-packaged food is bad for your body, pre-packaged feelings-sharing via memes, Facebook applications, and mindless surveys is bad for your soul.

Meanwhile...on to my mind. I have to go back to studying. Sigh.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Hazy Computer Monitor Glow, Blanket Around Shoulders, Typing in the Dark

...this is how I shall spend the night tonight. No sleep for me.

***
The other night, there was another Filipino in the bus. He had a cap on with the Philippine flag. I would've recognized my kababayan without the hat though. I found that I've developed a sort of Highlander Sense of the Other. Remember that TV show called The Highlander? ("I am Duncan McLeod of the Clan McLeod...There can be only one!" [Of course, when I was younger, I thought it was "McCloud" and I thought it was such a cool name. Well, it still is. Not just as cool]). Anyway, remember how all the immortals could just sense each other? Like there was this internal tugging of sudden, deep, and immobilizing recognition. It's like that for me now. I have such a heightened sense of the Filipino Other now that I'm in America's Dutch (read: blue eyes and blond hair) Hotspot.

Anyway. I was waiting for him to make eye contact with from across the bus so I could start a conversation. But in true Filipino-in-the-midst-of-foreigners style, he was too busy minding his own business. Meanwhile, I was trying to think of ways to start a conversation with him:

"Hey, nice hat," or "Pare, Pinoy ka?" or the classic, "Uy, tiga sa'n ka sa 'tin?"

Of course, I didn't know if he still spoke the language, he might have grown up here and all. But I figured, if he's wearing a cap like that (and believe me, that was a huge flag on that cap), he ought to at least understand Filipino.

And then I heard him talk on the phone. "'Ba malay ko, aalis daw sila bukas e."

Jackpot. Nag-Ta-Tagalog nga!

Alas, he got off the bus a stop earlier than I did and my new almost-best-friend never knew what a comfort his mere presence was.

It's silly to feel so forlorn about that whole episode. I know it's my own fault. I ought to at least try to make new (American) friends here. But as much as I want to...I don't. Does that make sense?

***
The real reason I couldn't sleep: I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow.

For years, I've had terrible dysmenorrhea. When I say terrible, I mean paying-for-the-sins-of-all-my-past-lives terrible. For almost half of my life, I've been in pain, half of the time. I often wonder what it would be like to spend one whole day without any kind of pain, or the anticipation of it. I'm in pain so much that I can almost not complain about it for lengths at a time. I've seen doctors for it but they always seem to try to medicate the pain and not necessiraly the cause. Even then, the pain has never gone away.

One doctor told me I had endometriosis. Another ran a battery of tests only to prescribe some totally expensive and useless pill. Another doctor told me I had to get pregnant by the age of 26, or else I won't have a chance to get pregnant (I'm turning 27 in 3 weeks...gasp...I'm turning 27 in 3 weeks. I just realized that now! But that's for a different post at a different time...) I've been poked and scrutinized and - well, let me just stop there. I don't want to get too graphic.

Tomorrow, I'll be going to a specialist. Yes, yes, I should've done that sooner. Truth to tell, I've been to all sorts of doctors and I thought I had already gone to see a specialist. Apparently, I haven't. Well, at least tomorrow I'll be going to a doctor who really deals with this sort of thing. I'm scared to find out what's actually wrong with me. At the same time, though, I really just want to know why I'm always in pain. I don't know what to expect. I have a feeling that there won't be anything significantly wrong; or worse, nothing significantly new to tell, and that is worse. And then I'll be left in pain, again. In the dark, again.

Sort of like right now.

Sigh. There's always adoption. (And yet, as I write that futile attempt at humor, I realize, it's not really funny.) But seriously, we can always adopt. We can always adapt.

I hate this. I really, really, really do.

Friday, October 12, 2007

Coming to the Surface for Air - Mindless Rambling

Yeah, I know. It's been forever. :p

4 major papers and 2 presentations later, I'm still alive. I've completely forgotten what it was like to be a student in the middle of midterm season. (Middle of midterm - so is that quarterterm? Obliquely to the right/left term? Forget it...)

And so I'm taking a deep breath and waiting for the next big thing to happen.

***

Saw that Bizarre Foods episode on the Philippines again. Boy how I miss home. I want to go home. Home, home, home, home.

***

Autumn's here. Love it. And so the world turns.