The Portrait that is the Filipina

La Madre Filipina (A statue at the Luneta Park)
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The Filipina of today is a life-size, full-length oil painting on canvas. She is a tableau that can be hung and appreciated, with pride or prejudice, depending on who the audience is. She is a multi-dimensional portrait. The background, shaped by the epochs in which she slowly evolved, greatly influences the main element, which is a mixture of diverse yet solid colors.

To fully understand the whole painting that is the Filipina, we need to scrutinize both the background and the main element. The background shows us a dynamic picture of the Filipina of yesteryears. She was a babaylan or katalonan (chief priestess) during the pre-Hispanic period, an active participant of the revolution, a committed member of the suffrage movement in the 19th century, and now a strong force in every sector of the society.1

She has always enjoyed equality with men, and has always sought and received education. That is, until the coming of the Spaniards that underlined man’s superiority and the woman’s limited capacity², thus forcing the Filipina to take a supporting role in society.

She was typecast as meek and submissive, but was she ever really? Even the world-fabled Maria Clara showed glimpses of an inner strength and a resilient spirit — qualities that always came to the fore whenever circumstances would pit the Filipina against social and personal turmoil. She got through the dark ages of her past — her repression and the rape of her soul and spirit by the colonizers — stronger than ever. She took an active part in building the nation, and in becoming what she is today.

The main element of the portrait, on the other hand, is the modern Filipina — her evolved self. Having recaptured her previous role in the society, that is, her man’s equal, she is busier than ever, charting not just her own destiny but that of the whole nation. She has become the country’s chief executive and a commissioned officer in the armed forces. She now holds major seats in the government, chairs executive meetings in offices, launches civic activities, moulds the young, and lords over her internal and external struggles, among others. She has braved foreign cultures in foreign lands, and is braving them still.

The modern Filipina is multi-faceted. Gifted with an open, compassionate heart, she is loyal and unselfish. She values love and friendship, adores her family, and does not mind putting her loved ones’ needs ahead of her own.

Blessed with a good mind, she loves learning and enjoys getting the kind of education she deserves. Social issues and intellectual debates are as much a staple for her as are talks about movies, social events, and shopping and beauty products. She can enjoy the company of logic and common sense, and get cozy with introspection. She can do anything she sets her mind on and can excel in her own field. She is the sail and rudder of her own ship; she knows what she wants, and does her best to achieve it. She knows and speaks her mind and asserts her views, although at times — when she sees fit — she is willing to hold her tongue to give the platform to her husband.

Endowed with a compassionate soul, hers are the hands that reach out to friends and loved ones in need. Her shoulders, strong yet comfortable, are always ready to caress wounded spirits. She may be quick to tears, but as she pours her heart out, an inner strength surges to the surface, and a new resolve comes over her. She has the resilience of the bamboo that allows her to thrive even in the harshest of conditions. She may bend and sway with the direction of the wind during stormy weathers, and she may cry rivers when her existence is jolted by life’s earthquakes, but she never gives up; she strives not to fall.

Bestowed with a happy spirit and shiny disposition in life, she smiles a warm smile, and laughs an infectious kind of laughter. She deals with life with the necessary amount of seriousness, and licks her wounds with good humor.

Being human, she too commits mistakes. She also stumbles and errs. But her weaknesses do not warrant removal of her portrait from the world gallery of respectable and strong women. It should continue to hang there; it is the spotlight that has been focused on the tiny blemish on her portrait for so long that should be finally properly angled so that the viewers may, hopefully, learn to admire the masterpiece that the Filipina really is.


Notes:

1www.kababaihan.org
²(Roxas-Aleta, 1977:13)


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//Sherma E. Benosa;
12 March 2008; 11:01pm
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Philippine Encyclopedia

Filipina

Transparency in an Opaque World

We are not just black or white; often, we are shades of gray. We cannot not just be one thing or the other. Often, we are both.

Dynamic, evolving… that’s what we humans are. Never static, never the same. Like clouds, we continually move across the continuum that is our life.

Definitely, we are not just a single snapshot. Not even a series of snapshots. But most people think we are. How many times have we heard the comment, “You’ve changed!” with a tinge of surprise as if we were supposed to stay the same forever?

Indeed, it would be great if we were gifted with the ability to see each of us as we really are; to understand our depths, to appreciate both what is inside and outside of each of us.

But humans have limitations. They only see what they want to see. Sometimes, they just see the good. At other times, only the bad. Often, they do not see both. And, on rare occasions that they do, they find it hard to understand the tangled dichotomies that make up each person.

Humans are multi-faceted, multi-dimensional, but with very limited view of the things around them. Often, they do not see the whole picture, and cannot dig deep to fathom what’s inside other people. They see only what they want to see, or what they think they are seeing. Unfortunately, too, they are quick to make conclusions based solely on their perceptions, which are very limited to begin with. So they see others as all-beautiful or all-good, then be shocked to find later on that the others too have weaknesses of their own. The reverse is also true. Sometimes, people are sure that one is bad through and through, not knowing that that person is simply misunderstood.

If only everyone could look at a single thing and be able to look at it in its entirety and view it from every angle possible, then what a better existence we would have. And if only we try to understand every aspect of a thing first, before we make conclusions, then how much easier life on earth would be.

The Rolling Stone

“Rolling stones catch no moss,” my father always reminds me every time I tell him of my plans to resign from my current job for another.

Dad always supports my decision, but as a father, he feels compelled to remind me of the things I might be forgetting. Often, we would discuss the pros and cons of my plans and end up agreeing. But not before we tease each other at length. The last time we talked about my resigning from my job in 2004, he again quoted that cliché he loves drumming into my head. That time, I answered, “at least they can go somewhere probably better.” Dad simply laughed, and called me “pilosopo nga ubing.”

But now I wonder what Dad would have said had I answered, “Dad, what made you think I’d like to collect mosses?” I guess the discussion would have been much longer.

Mosses for me are a sign of stagnation, of being in one place too long that one accumulated only the things that came one’s way. If I were a stone, I think I would want to be moss-free, to be rolling whenever I feel like it. I see myself as very rough at the start but would become smoother and smoother as I roll along unpaved highways and swim with or against the flow of life’s rivers.

The smoothing process would surely hurt. Like a clay pot that must be spun to be shaped and burnt to become strong, the stone that is me would also be thrust into necessary frictions until I become smooth enough in the eyes of The One shaping me.

Right now, I am still rolling this way and that. And as I do, I hope that the frictions of my experience will help me become a better person. For if not to become better, to be polished and molded into the shape He had in mind for me, what on Earth am I here for?

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I look forward to hearing Dad defend his moss-covered stone. I wonder what meaning he would ascribe to the moss. Hmmm…

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//Sherma E. Benosa
12 December 2007; 11:58pm
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Ringlet

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Life isn’t a circle; it is a line dotted with circles. The seemingly never-ending cycles, like the setting and rising of the sun, the settling of night and dawning of a new tomorrow, the change in seasons, and the New Years and Christmases and birthdays are actually just events that have the same names and share some characteristics in a linear timeline. After this summer there will be other summers, but this year’s summer is different from last year’s, and those of the years before it; and will be different from next year’s and those of the years thereafter.

Each moment is fleeting and will never come back. We may be gifted with many more moments, but we can never again have the one we now have, or those that had passed, for each moment is different from all the other moments.

I see the year 2007 as a ringlet in my life’s timeline that is now gone and completed — a chapter lived and is now just a part of memory; and the year 2008 as a new ringlet I must try to fill with dots and lines. I pray that the lines and dots I’ll be drawing in my new ringlet will be in accordance with the Master’s specifications.

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//Sherma E. Benosa
04 January 2008; 12:50am
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On medical tourism

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I sit in front of my PC, thinking how best to ‘attack’ the assignment I had been given. I’ve conducted the necessary interviews, and I already have with me the pictures as well as the literature that I need. All I have to do now is to decide how best to present the topic, in the most reader-friendly way. It should really be easy, as the topic — facilities in our hospitals for medical tourism — has already been narrowed down, I no longer need to think of story angle.

But somehow, I find it difficult to start. At first I thought it’s because my mind is still drained, having just finished the marketing plan I was commissioned to do. But having had a good night’s sleep, it’s quite unlikely for my mind to be still so dried-up. I refuse to let my mind off the hook because I want to finish this article today, so that tomorrow I can write things that would bring me pleasure. So I force my mind to concentrate on medical tourism, but as I do, I realize what’s wrong; my mind does think about medical tourism, but not within the confines of my topic.

‘Medical tourism is an irony,’ my mind keeps shouting. She argues that it’s so ironic that our country offers quality health care to foreigners, but cannot even provide the basic medical needs of millions of its people; and that our best hospitals have the capability to perform the most delicate of operations, as we do have the facilities and equipment, as well as human capability (most of the doctors in our top hospitals are trained and certified abroad), yet our politicians and the rich would opt to have their treatments abroad (Remember Erap’s knee operation? It can easily be done in the country.).

I shake my head, willing it to focus on the good things medical tourism can bring to the country. It will be good for the economy, because it will be bringing in more tourists, and of course, dollars.

But what will make the medical tourists choose the Philippines, instead of our neighbors, what with the negative picture we have allowed our country to have? I still remember the comment about medical schools in the country in Desperate Housewives. And I still have to read a positive write-up about the country in international magazines, like Time and Newsweek.

Sometimes — just sometimes — I can’t help but think that the country joining in the medical tourism bandwagon is a joke. But I should not like to let the cynic in me prevail; I would want to see this industry grow in our country, and for us to have a share of the market our neighbors have been enjoying for years.

But for that to actually happen, a lot of things need to be done. We have to have an objective look at our country and at our selves, determine the things we can improve on, and build on our strengths, which our neighbors lack. Because if all we can name as our assets now are our ‘world-class’ medical service, good tourist spots, and our ‘tender-loving care,’ then we will find that we don’t have much to offer, because our neighbors also have the first two, and the third is slipping away, and in some cases, now comes with a tag price.


(Now that these distractions are out, I think I am ready to write what I’ve been asked to write.
Thank you for reading; I am now signing out.)


//Sherma E. Benosa
20 February 2008; 11:21am

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Collector’s Items

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There is a game in the blogosphere that has been going on for some time, called tagging, where bloggers tag other bloggers. This is how it works. One blogger would start a topic, usually something about himself or herself, say, ‘three weird things about me.’ The blogger would make a list with some explanations. At the end of the list, the blogger would tag some of his blogger friends. Those tagged are expected to do the same.

I have been tagged many times by my good friend, Salve, but I haven’t done some tagging yet (until now, that is), because I can’t think of someone to victimize, hehehe. But with or without victims, I think I should do some of the games.

First up: three addictions. (Although I am more inclined to call it ‘collections.’ I don’t think I am addicted to anything besides my ‘Dungngo.’ Also, I am listing more than three. Hehehe Pasaway talaga ako. Sowi…)

My Collections

Books. I love books very much. Whenever I have free time, I read. When I want to de-stress, I read. When I travel, I read. I spend a big chunk of my time reading.

As to what I read, well, it varies depending on my mood, but my all-time favorites are those of James Clavell, Paolo Coehlo, Richard Paul Evans, Jeffrey Archer, Nicolas Sparks, and James Grisham, Leon Uris, JK Rowling and Mark Twain.

Of late, I have been buying lots of books, sometimes 3 to 5 titles at a time. My collection is not yet vast from the standard of a real bookworm (just about 200 titles), but then, I started only last year (I used to just borrow books from my friends). I know it would take years, even a lifetime, to build a mini-library of my own, but part of the fun is seeing my collection slowly grow.

Coins. When OFW relatives and friends ask me what I want for pasalubong, I always ask for low-denomination coins. They usually laugh at me, saying I don’t ask much. But I definitely treasure these kinds of gifts (I can’t collect them on my own).

I also collect old coins. I’ve been pestering my grandmother to look for the olds coins she must have kept, but to date, she hadn’t produced any! Huh!

So far, I now have coins from Hong Kong, Belgium, US, UAE, Australia, Singapore, Mauritius.

Bead jewelry. What girl in her right mind would not love those beautiful accessories, especially those made of crystal and glass? I am just into beads that I make mine myself. They’re just so lovely that when people ask me where I bought them, I am always proud to say I made them. :-)

Wedding/debut giveaways. I know they are inexpensive, but there’s something about them that I just love. Maybe it’s because they remind me of friends’ happy times. Maybe because they’re pretty. Or maybe because, like trophies, they are things you can afford to buy for yourself, but won’t (of course).

Ribbons and cords. I find ribbons and colored cords very lovely. I collect ribbons from ribboned gifts, from the flower bouquets my Dungngo sends me, and even from ribboned merchandizes. I also buy from gift shops for the gifts I wrap (Although I must admit, there are times that I would debate with myself whether or not to use the ribbons I’d bought. The ribbon lover part of me would want to keep them for myself. Hehehe).

Other things I like: Boxes, abaca bags/wrappers, and paper bags. When I am given gifts that come with beautiful boxes or paper bags, I am as excited of the container as I am with what’s inside. :-) Yeah… most of the times, mababaw ang kalikayahan ko. Hehehe!

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//Sherma E. Benosa

The Brain Teaser
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IRONY: A COLLECTION OF SHORTIES

Short Stories of 300 words or less: A Valentine Special

"I Love You"

He is an Adonis, the Kilabot ng mga Kolehiyala in the university. He sees women as nothing but conquests. For him, the words ‘I love you’ mean no more than a means to get to bed any woman he wants. He boasts to anyone who would listen that there are times when he manages without uttering the words.

His life is just perfect; that is, until he finally gets bitten by the love bug. She is everything he has never seen before; the realization of his dreams. Suddenly, the words 'I Love You' have taken an utterly different meaning.

When she accepts his dinner invitation, he feels he is the happiest man alive. He knows he had never been happier in his life. But when he whispers to her the words — this time, meaning it — she just laughs at him, not believing a single word he says. And worse, she confesses she is in love with someone else.

When she bids him goodbye after thanking him for the nice dinner, he lets out a heavy sigh, as tears flow out of his ailing heart. As he watches her leave, he asks himself how it could have happened that just when he finally learns what love means, love turns its back on him. He closes his eyes, wondering if he would utter the words 'I love you' ever again.

Man Hater

“Man hater” is everyone’s opinion of her at work. Not only hasn’t she ever had a boyfriend, as far as her co-workers know, but she also turns down everyone who asks her for a date. She also doesn’t show any affinity toward the opposite sex. But the truth is that she likes Allan, an officemate who has been courting her for three years. He only stopped months ago, after she told him for the nth time to find someone else. No, she has no plans of letting him know of her feelings for him. Never again will she give her love to someone, only to cry in the end, which she is sure to happen. Statistics show that a great number of relationships don’t last, and she has been part of the statistics once. She had loved deeply a lifetime ago, and all she got from that relationship was a shattered heart. No, she’s not going to love again. She’s not going to have her heart broken again.

She was sure she was right not to entertain her feelings for Allan. Until this morning, when she saw him walking hand in hand with someone else. She did not feel the tears flowing freely down her cheeks, but she was well aware of the searing pain that was gnawing at her heart.

Campus Queen

In college, she was a campus queen, not just because of her beautiful face and shapely body, but mainly because of what’s inside her pretty head. Later, when she started work, almost every single man in the company wanted to court her. Everywhere she goes, admiring eyes would follow her. Every other week, she gets a marriage proposal, none of which she took seriously. Until she met Ben. He has everything she looks for in a boyfriend. Good looks, above-average IQ, and compassion. They hit it off immediately, and she knew it’s just a matter of time before he’d court her. When one day Ben asked to speak with her in private, telling her he has something to confess to her, she knew this was it. She noticed the beads of sweat on Ben’s forehead when they were talking face to face. She rejoiced inside. She leaned over, held his hand and encouraged him to talk. When finally Ben opened his mouth, her heart skipped a beat.

“Myla,” he started. “I know Edgardo likes you very much…”

“Don’t worry about him, Ben," she cuts him off. "I don’t feel anything for him.”

Ben’s face considerably brightened.“Great! Look, Myla… do you think there’s something I can do to make him notice me instead?”

The Right Man

Almost all of the people who deeply loved Ella shook their heads and uttered a prayer when she and Anthony walked down the isle. Both her parents cried, which she knew was not out of happiness for her, but for fear of a bleak future which they were almost sure would befall her. Ben was a product of a broken marriage; her father left them for another woman when he was 10, and his younger sister was only 8. Five years later, his mother took in another man. Anthony was left to look after himself and his sister, as the other man turned out to be a beast. It took him 6 years to juggle high school and work as a gasoline boy. He decided to forego college and instead put up a small stall in the downtown market. Ella’s parents had tried to talk her out of her relationship with Anthony because they preferred Marco, the English teacher in the town’s high school who was a product of good family. They were sure she would have a fulfilling marriage with him. But she didn’t listen to them.

Ella looked up from the local paper she was reading at the sound of footsteps coming toward her. It was Anthony. As he approached, Ella studied her husband of thirty blissful years. He now looked much older, with gray hair randomly speckled on his head.

“Aren't you coming to bed yet?” he asked.

“I am,” she smiled up at her husband, folding the paper which was carrying a news item about a fatal car accident involving a man and his second mistress. The man was Marco.


//Sherma E. Benosa
07 February 2008; 7:43pm*

Love Paradox

(Seven reasons people are so crazy about (and go crazier because of) love

//Text, photos and graphic design by SEB.

Text was written in 2001.

Recognizing Stroke and Heart Attack

In the morning he was driving to town in his tricycle to visit his daughter and son-in-law. Several hours later, his wife was being told by his attending physician he had very low chances of survival. The next day, he was dead. The culprit? Stroke.

When I heard of the story, I commented, knowing full well how minutes matter in cases of heart and stroke attack, that maybe the man wasn’t rushed to the hospital immediately, that’s why he died on his first attack.

It turned out I was right.

Dad recounted that the morning before the man died, he and the man nearly had an accident along a narrow barangay road, as neither saw the other approaching. Dad was driving his owner-type jeep, and the man was driving a tricycle. It was when they were already very close that they saw each other. When finally, both of them maneuvered so that they could pass each other, Dad said to the other man, “Pasensiakan kabagis. Di ka napasungadan.”
The other man replied, “Uray siak ngarud, kabagis. Di ka nakita a sumungsungad.” The two men saluted each other, and drove off.

Dad recalled much later that the other man’s voice was indistinct, as if it was coming from a tunnel. It seemed the man might already be having a stroke at that time, but still managed to get to his daughter’s house which was about 15 minutes’ drive from where Dad met him. As soon as the produce he had brought was unloaded from his tricycle, the man asked his son-in-law to drive him back to the barrio as he wasn’t feeling well. “Naam-amlinganak sa,” he complained.

The son-in-law later narrated that when he and his father-in-law got to the barrio, the fqther-in-law could hardly walk to the house; he was staggering like a drunk. Later that day, they brought him to a clinic, where they were advised by the doctor to bring him to a hospital where there are facilities that might save him.

At the hospital much later in the afternoon, the man's wife was briefed by the doctor of the prognosis. The following morning, the man breathed his last.


Major killer diseases

Heart attacks and strokes are among the top ten causes of death around the world. Coronary heart disease, which includes heart attack, ranks first; whereas, stroke ranks second (WHO, 2007).

This is unsettling, especially if you or someone you love becomes part of the statistics. That’s why it is becoming more important that we become very vigilant, especially when we are with high-risk people. Studies say that people who are considered high-risk are those who are above 40 (although there are now folks who experience attacks in their late 20s and early 30s), smokers, leading a stressful lifestyle, fond of unhealthy food, and have a sedentary lifestyle.

However, an even sadder revelation is that not many would recognize stroke and heart attack if they stare them in the face, and would not know what to do in case they happen. So I thought, I should compile some information I could find about these, translate them to Ilokano, and distribute them among family members and friends.

Here is the first installment of the things I’ve gathered:


Heart Attack Warning Signs

According to the American Heart Association (AHA), not all heart attacks are strong and sudden. In fact, most are slow, with only mild pain or discomfort. People having this kind of heart attack are not sure what’s wrong, so they often wait long before seeking help.

Here are the signs (Lifted from the AHA website):

• Chest discomfort. Most heart attacks involve discomfort in the center of the chest that lasts more than a few minutes, or that goes away and comes back. It can feel like uncomfortable pressure, squeezing, fullness or pain.
• Discomfort in other areas of the upper body. Symptoms can include pain or discomfort in one or both arms, the back, neck, jaw or stomach.
• Shortness of breath with or without chest discomfort.
• Other signs may include breaking out in a cold sweat, nausea or lightheadedness.
  As with men, women's most common heart attack symptom is chest pain or discomfort. But women are somewhat more likely than men to experience some of the other common symptoms, particularly shortness of breath, nausea/vomiting, and back or jaw pain.

Stroke Warning Signs (Lifted from the AHA website):

• Sudden numbness or weakness of the face, arm or leg, especially on one side of the body
• Sudden confusion, trouble speaking or understanding
• Sudden trouble seeing in one or both eyes
• Sudden trouble walking, dizziness, loss of balance or coordination
• Sudden, severe headache with no known cause

Cardiac Arrest Warning Signs (Lifted from AHA website):

• Sudden loss of responsiveness (no response to tapping on shoulders).
• No normal breathing (the victim does not take a normal breath when you tilt the head up and check for at least five seconds).

When you or your loved one experiences any of the signs above (not all signs will manifest during an attack), AHA advises that you should seek medical help, even if the symptoms are very mild, and seem to go away. The association likewise advises calling 911, but for folks in the Philippines, especially in the barrios where it takes time before an ambulance could come to you, asking a loved one to bring you or the patient to the hospital might be the wisest course of action instead of simply lying down to rest. As they say, better sure than dead.

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Personal Note

I have always wanted to write a “premier” about recognizing heart and stoke attacks when I realized my folks are getting old and are now at risk of having any of these attacks. My plan had been to gather data, write, have my write-up checked by a specialist, then translate my article to Ilokano so that everyone in the household would understand it, and hopefully do the right thing when something like this happen. But somehow I always forgot about actually doing it. But having heard of the recent attack in our barrio, I was spurred to action, realizing that I must do it NOW, not LATER. So here is the first step.

If you’d notice, I lifted a part from the American Heart Association website verbatim, as I am afraid of making a mistake in re-stating them. (I would when I am ready to show it to a specialist).

I hope this article would be of help. For more information about stroke and heart disease, I advise that you go directly to the AMERICAN HEART ASSOCIATION website. Thank you.


References

American Heart Association. (n.d.) Heart Attack, Stroke, and Cardiac Arrest Warning Signs. Accessed February 6, 2008 from http://www.americanheart.org/presenter.jhtml?identifier=3053#Heart_Attack

World Health Organization. (February, 2007). Top Ten Causes of Death. Accessed February 6, 2008 from http://www.who.int/mediacentre/factsheets/fs310.pdf

//Sherma E. Benosa; 06 February 2008

Also posted in the IMAGES AND LINES page of my ILUKO.COM BLOG

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Life is a Performing Art (Story on Slide)

Please click the minus (-) sign on the bottom left of the "TV" screen to slowdown the slide; plus (+) sign to make the slides move faster; and the pause sign to, well, make the current slide pause.

To appreciate the story, please start viewing from page one (the page number is at the bottom right of each page).

Frst posted in my iluko.com blog.

“I Do”

Saturday, January 26, 2008. 5:05 pm. I was still writing like crazy, trying to beat the 8pm deadline for my article. The article was done, actually, but it was a page short. I’ve put everything I needed to write, so I was finding it hard to add more, for although I can be very wordy when it comes to blog posts and other personal stuff, I am very concise when it comes to academic and journalistic writing.

I paused for a while to stretch my arms and to figure out what more I could add to the piece I was writing. I was about to hit the computer keys again when a message popped up in my ym.

“Hi luv! How are you?”

It was from my Dungngo. A huge smile spread across my face. I wasn’t expecting him to be back yet. Immediately, I rang him and greeted him with glee. He explained he was home just to feed his cat, and of course talk to me, but he needed to be back to the hospital where he is receiving treatment in less than two hours. I was disappointed, of course, but I focused on the fact that at least we were able to talk before I was to travel for home that night.

Then the day and time hit me. Without preamble, I said: “Love, I do.” It took him a short time to figure what I was talking about. He let out a sigh before answering: “I do, too, Darling.”

Puzzled? Let me explain.

Last Saturday should have been our wedding day. The wedding march should have started at 4:30pm so I imagine that by the time my darling’s message popped up at 5:05pm, we should already be in front of our family and friends, exchanging I do’s.

There was no wedding march, no friends and folks around. I wasn’t in my wedding dress, and my Dungngo was miles away, still sick, but dammit there was no stopping us from exchanging our vows. We exchanged our I DO’s with only God as our witness, and our computers as companions. But that, as far as we are concerned, is as real as the real thing.

So now, I am married.

Home for a Day

I was home for a day yesterday. I traveled Saturday night, arrived home Sunday morning, and traveled back to the city Sunday night. (My brother Ogie, who stays with me in QC, went home Friday night). It’s tiring, really. Dad and Mom were happy we were complete as a family (well, almost, except for my Dungngo who is still abroad), although they think it’s crazy that I should be spending more time traveling than staying with them. I think it’s crazy too, but at least, I was able to see them, especially my two nephews.

As is customary whenever one of us is going home, I told every member of the family of our plans to go home a week ahead, so adjustments could be made on everyone’s schedules, and everyone could be home. It’s easier to organize things now, because my brother Iding and his family are now based in NV, even if his projects are in Baguio, Ifugao, and sometimes, Manila; and Ryan, who works for him, is also NV-based. It’s just Kate (Ryan’s wife, and Pau, their kid) we needed to ask to come to NV too for the family to complete. Somehow, my vacation seems incomplete when one member is missing, so I always ask everyone to come home whenever I am.

I was home less than 24 hours, and a huge part of it, I spent sleeping. Still, somehow, I feel I’ve done a lot of things. In the afternoon, we went to the farm and gathered alukon (yum, yum!). I also played with my nephews and took photos and videos of them, and ate good food (steamed malunggay, eggplant, and parda and pinakbet con alukon). Of course, bye-bye time was still hard, but it’s okay. Mom and Dad’s smiles the whole day were big, which makes me feel we did something good just by going home. (Dad enjoys telling everyone who greets us and notes we are all home: “Adda amin dagitay boss ko” with a glitter in his eyes.)

I feel relaxed, too. I’ve had a busy and brain-draining schedule last week. By Saturday, I was already feeling stressed out. Miraculously, my crazy trip back home erased ‘em all. Now, I’m fully energized.

Magazine Cover Girls (Feeling lang...)

My good friend, Chie (Sheryl), asked me to post these pictures in my blog. She is currently taking Photoshop lessons with Manong Ricco, and these are her practice outputs. She was so excited the other night, saying over and over that she couldn’t believe she had done these.

Good job, Chie! Love yah!











(Above, left) Original picture; (Right) Magazine cover version; (Below) Chie on cover. Ganda niya, 'no?




Below is an additional photo. This time, from FantasiaLand. Gift ni Fairy Chie.

New Name, New Look, New Me?

My blog just got a face lift and changed identity. Now you ask: Does that mean anything?

The answer is it does and it doesn’t. Let me elaborate.

The main reason for the face lift is that I find the blog’s old look very boring. I had always wanted to make changes in its looks, but it’s only now that I was able to sit down and fix it. The change in name (from “The Wicked Angels Haven” to “The Written Wor[l]d), on the other hand, signals maturation on my part. When I started referring to myself as a “wicked angel,” I was just a child asserting to be myself. It was my way of calling attention to the duality that resides in me; to assert that though I am generally nice and good, I also do not say things that are contrary to my beliefs just because they are what the people around me want to hear; nor do I do things solely because they are expected of me.

“The Written Wor[l]d” was coined almost immediately after I put up “D’wicked Angel’s Haven” in 2004. I had always wanted to create another blog of this title and, in some occasions, had been tempted to change the existing blog’s name to “The Written Wor[l]d,” but somehow I kept deciding against doing it. Until today.

So yes, in some ways, the change in the name and in the look of the blog signals changes in me as well. But not that much, because the content of the blog would be pretty much the same. Attempts at poetry, personal essays and other stuff that I find interesting shall continue to grace this blog’s pages.

Thank you for visiting me here. Truly, this page that I originally intended to be for private use only has evolved to become a place where I can share with friends my thoughts and feelings, my triumphs and failures, and my wishes and dreams.

Thank you for spending time with me, folks!

Almost Me

When I did a general cleaning of my closet last week, I found, among other things, my two old diaries which I kept hidden someplace where they are most secure. As I leafed through their pages, I couldn’t help smiling at the concerns of my once young heart and utterly innocent mind, telling myself over and over: "Ah, to be so young and so full of dreams! To be so innocent and so hopeful of a very bright future ahead."

Did I say smiling? Make that bursting with sporadic laughter, for from time to time, I would see a line or two that I find so corny and childish. Especially so when I saw what I’ve written at the second page of the newer of the diaries: it’s really the most kaloka of all. No, it’s not a secret about some crush or anything; it’s my Japanese welcome greeting. It’s so kaloka because I can no longer read it (it’s written in hiragana and katakana); and, if not for the translation I’d thankfully provided when I wrote it, I would not even know what it means anymore. Besides my official transcript of records and the cheap Nihongo grammar books I bought, it’s the only relic left of a gone era of my life: the time when I almost learned to speak and write Japanese.

I remember that I was taking up Japanese 10-11 when I wrote the greeting; I was in my first year, first semester in the university. We had not yet touched kanji at the time; hence, the use of hiragana and katakana (I’m sure I would have used kanji — just to show off to myself, because of course I don’t expect any other pair of eyes to see them besides mine — if I had already known how to write in those beautiful characters.)

During the past days, I kept wondering why I can't seem to forget my 're-discovery' of my diaries, especially the hiragana greeting. But I wonder no longer, now that I've remembered the disturbing thought that played in my mind as gazed at that diary entry. When I saw the greeting, I felt sorry that I did not truly learn Japanese; it would have been an asset. Then I realized that I was a piece of an undeveloped potential when I was in college — just an almost. I mean, I almost learned to speak Japanese, but didn’t (Alas, I should not have given up!). I was almost sent to Indonesia as a foreign exchange student, but wasn’t (Damn the Asian crisis!). I almost graduated with honors, but didn’t (Hmmm, should I blame my being a working student or my not studying well enough?).

As I was thinking this, I chided myself, saying: “Stop it!There’s no point crying over spilled milk. Move on. Just look at what you’ve become and be content.”

So that’s what I did. Only, as I looked at my present self, I’ve come to realize this: I am still an almost! Almost a writer. Almost an artist. Almost married. Almost an MA degree holder. Almost, but not quite!

Ah, to be just some kinda. Some sort of.

Ah, such potential; such right start that’s wasted. Well, almost wasted (because I did not end up a total waste, did I? Nyehehehe)


//Sherma Benosa
15 January 2008; 1:40am


As I was about to post the earlier piece (Almost Me), another thought hit me: that if we look closely at ourself at any point in our life, we’d realize that we are both an accomplished and un-accomplished person. There are chapters in our lives that we’ve come to close, but there are also those that we are about to open, or are still trying to fulfill.

There are things in life that we could have achieved if only we tried our best; hence, from this point onward, we should always struggle to pursue excellence. There are also those that we couldn’t, no matter how hard we try because they aren’t for us; hence, knowing we’ve given our best, we must learn to accept that there is a Greater Being that holds the rein of our destiny.

Just an almost? We’ll, that’s not really a sad thing as long as we know we are giving our best shot at everything we do; and that we are able to become “quite” on the things that are meant for us.

A Goldmine of Interesting Information

Have you ever wondered about the two- and three-letter words acceptable in scrabble as approved by scrabble associations? (Well, I have, because I have been playing a lot of online scrabble with my Dungngo lately).

Have you also wondered about the unusual color terms (and what shade of color they are referring to?)

How about a listing of the lost English words?

Maybe you have, maybe you haven’t; I’m sharing what I’ve stumbled into, anyway. It’s a goldmine of information, if you ask me, especially if one is so inclined to learn about some not-so-common but interesting information about the English language.

Here’s a link to the website: http://phrontistery.info/

Direct links to some interesting information in the site:
Two- and three-letter scrabble words: http://phrontistery.info/scrabble3.html
Lost English words: http://phrontistery.info/clw.html
Obscure color terms: http://phrontistery.info/colours.html

Beadwork

Lately, I’ve been being drawn (again) into beadwork, which is good, because now, I can allot at least a day a week for this other medium of self-expression.

Beadwork is therapeutic; it relieves me of stress. It also has a lot of potentials for business. Hmmm, why not?

Let me share some of my initial outputs.

Dress designs for me

It was already past 3am, yet sleep was still evasive. I tried to catch it, but it was slippery, so I gave up the attempt. I could have browsed the internet to pass the time, but I had been online for hours before going to bed, looking for and studying some craft ideas and designs.

I don't know what I've been thinking at the time, but soon, an idea came into my mind. I grabbed my notebook and drew the idea (to think I don't even draw).

Yes, the idea is of dresses and blouses I'd love to sew for myself (if I know how) for summer, and suits I'd love to wear if I were still trapped in the corporate world. My creative self is happy I've turned my back to that world, but the part of me that loves dressing up is, well, not too happy whenever I am in the mood to wear suits, which is very seldom. :-)

Ah, whatev! I know I'm blabbering, and I apologize. Just think it's the result of lack of

sleep. Hehe. :-)

UP Diliman Dorm Razed by Fire

A sad news to UPians: the Narra Residence Hall, one of the oldest dormitories in UP Diliman, was razed by fire hours after the year-long centennial celebration kick off last Tuesday. (The kick off started sometime Tuesday night; the fire is said to have started Wednesday dawn).

This may no longer news to many, but it was to me about five hours ago. I was cleaning my room when a friend, Arnold, also a UP graduate, sent me a YM. No, not to tell me about the fire, but to talk about wedding bells (his and his girl friend; and mine and my Dungngo).

Then I asked him about the centennial kick off. He said he did not manage to go to UP that night. Then he mentioned about the fire. Waaaa!

I tried to remember what I was doing when the fire started. I think I must already be off to dreamland by then. I remember I finished writing an Ilokano short story about 2:30am Wednesday, and went to bed immediately after shutting down my PC. That must be why I wasn’t awoken by the sirens of the fire trucks.

Ah, so sad. Maybe especially so for the thousands who have stayed in that dorm when they were students. As Arnold, a former Narra resident, said in our YM conversation, “Narra lives in our hearts na lang. sniff. hikbi. singhot.”

Tsk!


Click here to watch the GMA newscast about the fire.

Click here to read a PDI report on the fire.

8 Goals for 2008

Goal setting, that’s what I do whenever I have time to plan my next steps, especially right before or after I make a jump. I don’t like resolutions mainly because I have yet to meet a person who has actually been successful in making his or her resolutions happen.

One of the things why resolutions don’t work is that many make them just for the sake of having resolutions for the New Year, without the necessary commitment to make them come true. Another one is that, most often, many just list the things they want to change or achieve without identifying the things they must do to make them a reality.

So it’s goal setting I do. The main difference (in my humble opinion) between goals and resolutions is that the former tends to be more realistic than the latter. Also, when one sets goals, one necessarily identifies the things that might hinder him or her from achieving those goals and the things he or she can and must do to achieve those goals despite the barriers. He or she may or may not write the hows, but written or not, these things have to be in his or her mind.

Writing and posting my goals work, not only because I am reminded of them every time I open my blog, but also because friends who have read them ask me how it’s going. My first attempt was sometime in 2005 when I challenged myself to read a number of classic literature in a year. My friends were very supportive, asking me how I was doing (and teasing me about how late I was at realizing I should be reading classics) and suggesting good titles for me to read. Salve even lent me several classics from her extra-huge collection.

There is some sort of good pressure when my goals are written for everyone to see, that there is a better chance that I achieve (most of) them. Also, family and friends tend to align their goals and activities with mine, so as to help me achieve them.

So what are my goals for this year? Here they are:

Finish my studies. This has been mentioned a bit too often in my goals. Sometime in 2006, I actually decided to ditch it, but someone got into the picture and convinced me to finish it. So now, I plan to do the thesis. Anyway, it’s just this kalokang thesis that is standing between me and my diploma.

Travel. This year, I plan to visit any three of these local tourist spots: Palawan, Callao Caves, Boracay, Bicol, Abra or Sagada and any one of these South East Asian countries: Malaysia, Thailand, or Indonesia. You guessed it right: it’s still in accordance with my dream to break into travel writing genre.

Pursue my entrepreneurial spirit. Even when I was much younger, I had always dreamed of eventually owning my own business, although I was not sure I’d eventually learn how to manage a business and I’d have a capital. What’s more, I did not know the ins and outs of a good business; couldn’t even think of what business to put up. But now, thanks to the influence of my brother who set up his own firm with some of his friends almost immediately after he passed the board exams, and of the people I am close to who had successfully crossed over to business, I think I am now ready to try my hand at it. Right now, I have several seemingly good business ideas. I hope the feasibility studies would turn out positive.

Write and publish short stories. During the past three months since I quitted my work, I devoted my time to practicing my writing skills. I think I’ve done enough practice; it’s time that I do real stuff. Of course, I’ll still be writing some stuff for my blogs (how can I not? hehe), but I must devote more time now pursuing my fiction writing dream.

Continue with my self-training on adobe and other graphic programs. And how about learning to do web design? Manong Ricco, who installed Flash in my computer last month, says it’s easy. A bit tricky, he says, but it’s alright once you’ve got the hang of it. Why not?

Get into crafts (besides beadworks which I already am into) and learn some livelihood skills. I had tried to enroll in dressmaking last year, but the class was already full so I was advised to do it this summer. I’ll try to be early this time. I still do some beadworks (yes, I make most of my accessories) but I’d also love to learn candle and soap making.

Become a regular contributor to some national magazines. Besides H&L, of course. I’m already in contact with some, and I hope they’d react positively to my sample works. Sana! :-)


I said 8 goals, but listed only 7. There’s another one, of course, but I prefer to keep it off the visible list for a while. Smile! Hehehehehe

New Year's Gift: An Open Letter

Dear Humanity,

I know that there are times when you think and feel that you are utterly alone; that no one cares. But that is not entirely true, you know that. Someone up there is always watching you, crying with you as you shed your tears, and whose heart bleeds as yours break into pieces.

He would rather not put you through anything that would make you sad; He would rather carry your load than give so you much burden. If only it weren’t necessary that you must walk on unpaved roads strewn with humps and holes of different sizes and shapes; if only it weren’t important that you must stumble from time to time, He wouldn’t put you through things that would make you — and Him — cry.

But you must go through both good and seemingly bad things, my friend. Like a clay pot that must be molded for it to be shaped, and fired for it to become strong, you must go through different challenges so that you might understand and grasp me. Yes, you must sail on stormy seas so that you'd appreciate better the dawning of a sunny day and the sighting of an island.

I say it again: you are never alone. The Father above has sent me — among others — to be with you always, to walk with you in your every step, to guide you, to help you, to make you stronger, to keep you going.

Look at me, friend, for I am always with you, whether you see me or not, whether you choose to grasp me or not. I am in everything that happens in your life: in your every success and in your every failure.

I am one of the reasons why things happen in your life; the answer to some of your questions. I am the reward that wipes off your tears, the gift that warms your heart.

Come, try to grasp me, my friend. Come, hold my hand.

Do walk on. With me.


For I am,

Lesson


//Sherma E. Benosa
29 December 2007; 11:10am

2007: A Glance at the Year that (Almost) Was

The year 2007 is about to bid us goodbye. As I open my arms to welcome the coming year, I would want to give the departing year one last hug for having been so good to me, for entrusting to me gifts and lessons I will forever cherish.

As a tradition I have been doing for the past four years, I am taking a glance at the year that (almost) was. This time, focusing on some of the lessons I’ve learned.

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To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. —Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

I’ve come across this biblical passage countless of times in my life. I remember clearly that it was read to us when Inang Pacing died in 2005 and again in May of this year when Amang Roman breathed his last. The very first time I come across it years ago, I had thought that I’ve understood — and learned — the lesson well.

Apparently I had thought wrong.

Patience is a virtue I sorely lack. Having been afflicted with what I call ap-apura syndrome and having thrived in an environment where the word “deadline” is a tangible presence, I tend to rush things and to be upset when I (or others) cannot meet deadlines.

It’s true I do not make definite plans in my life. I always try to make my plans flexible so that I can easily incorporate changes should circumstances demand that alterations — big or small — be made.

But sometimes, the theory is easier stated than put to practice.

Early this year, a big plan was conceived supposedly for middle of this year. Though at the back of my mind, I had known that changes might be made with regards to the schedule, I had felt so bad when something happened which consequently hindered the big thing from taking place on the appointed date. I had been depressed — and worried — for a while, until I realized it must have happened for a reason.

A re-scheduling was made. But now it is becoming apparent that even the re-scheduled date is not yet the right time.

I have to admit that I am disappointed; I am normal, after all. But right now, as I look back at the months that I have been waiting, I see lessons strewn along the roads I have traveled, all of which clearly spelled out for me not to miss.

I know, the crazy little imp that is me is being taught important lessons I cannot afford to miss.

--------------------------------
His name was always on my lips when I was a young girl. I spoke of His greatness to anyone who would listen. And in my own little ways, I tried to become worthy in His eyes. But somehow, along the way, I stumbled and lost the light He has given me. Then I just stopped. My lips sealed themselves up and His name did not escape from them for a long time. I died.

But He wouldn’t let me stay a living dead. He kept calling my name, coaxing me to grasp the light again, to walk the track He had showed me, and is showing me still.

I am one stubborn child, but soon, my sleepy senses were awaking. Soon, my hands were fumbling in the dark for the light. Soon, my heart was beating into my whole body the blood of willingness to heed His divine call. Soon, I was standing up, ready to follow Him again.

But as I was struggling to make that journey of renewal, I saw a hand reaching out to me. I looked at the eyes of the man who had extended me his arm, and I saw the answers of my prayers reflected there. As we smiled at each other, we just knew we were to make that journey together, so we linked our arms and walked together toward the light.

I learned the man had stumbled many times in the past, and was stumbling still; that he had given up the journey a long time ago. He admitted he didn’t know why he reached out to me, but somehow, he knew he did the right thing. He reckoned it was time that he stopped making wrong turns, and started making the journey right.

I guess that’s what we are now: walking hand-in-hand along the path of renewal which we must trudge together; to re-learn the good things we have known before but must have forgotten; and to unlearn the bad ways we might have picked up in our careless slumber.

And I guess that’s the point of this wait: not just to teach me lessons of patience but also to let us complete our renewal before we make another leap; to make us both closer to Him as we once were; and to teach us lessons too great it’s hard to put a name to them.

Truly, life is full of lessons the human mind cannot easily fathom.


//*Sherma E. Benosa
27 December 2007; 4:25pm

EDITING OUR MISTAKES IN LIFE

You are doing some minor image editing on your computer screen. There are times you would make some mistake by overcorrecting or undercorrecting something, so from time to time you’d click undo.

Generally, you are happy with how much the image has improved. But as you are about to be finished, your computer suddenly shuts down. You curse the power interruption. Then you curse some more as you realize that you haven’t saved the file!


There are things in life we cannot undo as easily and completely as we would with our computer files. A wrong turn, a hurtful word said to a loved one, a bad move — these we all commit as we walk our life’s journeys, no matter how careful we are in our steps. Once committed, we can no longer undo many of these mistakes, especially because unlike with our computer documents, each thing we do and say has vast repercussions as they involve not just us — the file that we are working on — but also others, the unopened files and computer programs in our system.

So I guess our life’s mistakes are not like our pencil scrawls that can be effectively corrected with an eraser, or errors on our computer works that can be undone with an undo button. But there are effective and reliable tools we can use — APOLOGY and FORGIVENESS. Simply click the APOLOGY button when you have committed a mistake that has hurt a loved one and the words “I’m Sorry” will flash on the other person’s screen. But here’s the tricky part: you have to be truly sorry and you must be prepared not to commit the same mistake again for your APOLOGY to work. Sincerity is definitely an integral part.

When someone clicks the APOLOGY button and the words "I'm sorry" flash on your screen, all you have to do is click back the FORGIVENESS button. It means that you have wholeheartedly accepted the other person’s APOLOGY. But not only that. You also have to click it when someone has sent you back the message “It’s okay. Forget about it,” on your request of APOLOGY. It means that you are also forgiving yourself for your mistake; that you won’t keep revisiting it in the future, feeling so bad having committed it.

And lastly, don’t forget to keep clicking the SAVE button. Going through the whole process of editing — of doing and undoing, of apologizing and forgiving — is useless if you fail to save the LESSON for future use. Let the saved file be a reminder of the healing process you once went through to make yourself better; for you not to forget the lesson; and for others to access and learn from.


//Sherma E. Benosa
17 December 2007; 3:35pm

_________
This piece was written as a response to a question posted by CPascua in relation to my Zooming In, Zooming Out article. He asked: When you tinker with photos, you feel safe and confident coz you have the ‘undo button’. In real life, what are your tools to correct your mistakes?

The (In)Famous Ones

It’s been three months since I left FAME, but when I saw the guys today, it felt like I’d never left.

I am talking about my ex-officemates, the young souls who made my stay at FAME worthwhile, the friends who made every cortisol-filled moment at work seem less stressful, the friends with whom I shared laughter and tears, and some fun and more fun.

Some have left long before I did; others shortly after I brought home my personal stuff, never to bring them to the office again; while the rest are contemplating of trudging a different road soon. We are now walking on different avenues, but still we are bonded in a way that souls who recognize something in each other are bonded.

I hope the deep friendship remains, even if there may come a time when fate would decide to toss us into different worlds.

"FREELANCE"

For the past three months, the word ‘freelance’ which I had been using to describe my employment status was merely a euphemism for what I really was: (almost) jobless. For, even if I had several writing assignments, my income was almost non-existent. Pay per article is unbelievably low.

I did prepare myself for this. Even before I resigned from work, I knew it would take time before I would be able to establish myself as a freelance writer. I also knew there would be times I would feel down for not having an income. I had psyched myself beforehand not to give in to self pity when those taunting moments come, but still, when they did, it was extremely hard not to question my self-worth.

May be I could have found a new job faster if I had not laid down the rule before I resigned: that this time, I will apply only in freelance or part time jobs. During the three months I was unemployed, there were several job openings I could have applied to. When I submitted my term paper at the linguistics department of the university last September, I was told the department was looking for a researcher with knowledge in linguistics. Being a linguistics graduate from that very same department, I was encouraged to apply, and I was vastly tempted because I could be sent to other countries for fieldworks, and I could finally practice my course. But it was a fulltime job, so I didn’t.

Then Manang Linda (Bulong) told me that the UP press was in need of a copyeditor. She encouraged me to apply. Again, the temptation was so great. Who would not want to work for UP press? Even my Dungngo who knew of my freelance-only rule convinced me to apply. And honestly, I did contemplate sending in my resume, but eventually didn’t. I stuck by my rule.

There were other openings in companies I would have loved to be part of, but all were fulltime positions, so despite the encouragements I received, I did not apply. To be honest, I felt bad because I see them as doors opening, with a promise of a warm welcome and an invitation for a short peek, which I unceremoniously turned down as if I was already sure I would be allowed to linger inside.

By the third week of November, with still not many prospects of getting regular assignments besides my previous company which retained me as a contributor, I started doubting my decision. I wondered if I jumped off the cliff that was my previous job prematurely. Besides the magazines where I submitted unsolicited materials, hoping they would be published sometime in the future (say, middle of next year), there weren’t many part time/freelance jobs available, and the only company I applied to and where I did an editing exam last September had not contacted me. After two months of hearing nothing from them, I was ready to accept that my application was rejected.

“Love, saanak sa a nakapasa idiay nageksamak,” I sadly told my Dungngo late last month. “Dua a bulanen ti napalabas manipud nageksamak and I still haven’t heard from them.”

“It’s alright, love. There will be other jobs,” he answered.

I sighed. “I know that. But, well, I feel I am not good enough. I mean, I know there are others who are much better than I am, but it feels bad to realize I am not in their league.”

“Oh, Love. Don’t think that way. You are good.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

He sighed, lost for words, so I added, “Sorry, love, but I can’t help it. I am a positive thinker, you know that, and I believe in what I can do. Pero, siempre, I also cannot help feeling down from time to time. I’ve read about how retirees sometimes feel when all of a sudden they find themselves with nothing much to do. I think that’s how I feel right now. A retiree. Except that I am not their age! Waaaaaaaaaaa!”

“Heh! Saan man a ti la ibagbagam.” He said, laughing at the funny sound I made. “Just wait, love. Something will come up. While waiting, aramidem pay laeng dagitay intedko nga assignments mo.”

“Ooooopppps! Wen aya!” I suddenly perked up, blessing him for pulling me out of my ensuing depression. Yes, indeed, I had a lot of things to do. I might be jobless, but my hands were full. During the past months, I was busy polishing my Iluko (Ilokano), busy writing my assignments for Health and Lifestyle, busy trying to write iluko short stories, busy learning poetry, busy revisiting Japanese poetry forms (haiku), busy setting aside my thesis (hehehe), busy reading pocket books, busy writing blog materials, busy doing my hobbies, and of course, busy sleeping.

So though in my heart, I knew I wanted the part-time editing job so much because with it I could work at home on my own time, and of course, there would be regular pay checks, I had accepted that I failed. So I launched my plan B which was to try to become a regular contributor in other magazines. I studied several magazines, took note of the kind of articles they publish, the length and tone of the articles, the magazines’ readership profiles, and so on. I short listed some magazines where I would want to try to get regular assignments. I also started writing travel articles not only because almost every magazine has a travel section, but because I wanted to break into this genre.

I even put into action my plan C, which I will not talk about for the time being. Yes, I think I was beginning to feel desperate.

But last Monday, my dream company — the one I thought did not want me — contacted me, inviting me for an interview. I was ecstatic! During the interview last Tuesday, I learned that their selection process had been tedious, that they gave examinations to hundreds of applicants, that’s why it took them a long time to process the applications.

And today… wow! I feel so blessed. I was again invited to visit them. Not for interview, but for contract signing! All of a sudden, I was pulled out of a dark abyss. My prayers have just been answered. Now, I can say I am indeed a freelance writer-editor without the shadows of the word “bum” hanging over me every time I blurt out the word.

Yes, my ‘bumship’ days are over.


Sherma E. Benosa
06 December 2007; 9:34pm