21 April 2000
Here I am again,
Wearing the same mask,
Denying the anger, fear...
What a good actress?
Still shamming as if...
That I'm still okay.
Smiling in front
But screaming behind.
And now there you are
Want me to reach
But how can I?
If I have still this.
Is it enough to cry
Just to express myself?
Is it enough to lough
For me to be safe?
My friend, can you still identify me?
The real me from that mask
After all that I've revealed.
No, you'll never, never...ever.
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Thursday, April 10, 2014
MIRRORS
(Guidance 2 - October 2002 with 1.2 grade)
From a Sister
She is great and for all the good traits she had, undeniably, the members of our family appreciate her so much. But for me, there is no other traits can fill to complete her existence except for her being kind.
Yet, being good and kind-hearted person will not be appreciated without her alter ego. I observed that she is quite moody and ill-tempered sometimes which makes me feel so irritated.
From Friends
Good companion, good friend, she is a good adviser in different situations. True friend and can be trusted.
She don't talk about what she feels, think on some situations and about some things that bothers her. Sometimes, too frank that could make some people offended.
From a Loved One
Just a point of clarification before I start, I have nothing to do with any romantic involvement with the addressee. I'm just actually a mere friend of hers - one of her closest friends, that is. Well, to me, She's no longer a common friend that comes and goes through the years. She's always been a good companion (everywhere), a listener, a hand when I'm in need and of course, my reflector - who critics and evaluates my damn self.
She has lessen her being "loud-mouth" about anything, but there are some instances that she tends to lose her tact - and again hit others. She also has that irritating attitude wherein she gladly opens a conversation,, bring something up and say a word or two about it and when you ask what was she talking about , She'll just give you a shrug and a dismissing look that tells you to just back-off and forget anything, infuriating, right?
REACTIONS from the addressee
For a Sister
I'm not used to hear any critics or evaluation from my family. We're not that good in expressing inner emotions to each one of us. But since I asked it, so my younger sister tried to have something, jot here in my notes. I'm quite glad to hear some appreciation from her. At first glance, on what she have written, something deep inside softly stabbed my feelings. My gosh!, it touched my heart. On the other hand, upon reading the unpleasant feedback, I'm no longer surprised about those bad stuffs since I consider her as my enemy at home. Don't think that I don't love her - I love her very much. If I could just dare to express my feelings to her, I would tell her How am I thankful and glad for having her as my sister.
For Friends
I'm not anymore surprised of how they appreciate me. I admit I'm that good as a friend, companion and as an adviser to their woe's and predicaments. On the contrary, I also admit being frank and silent or perhaps unfair in the sense that they shared more and I shared less. But it doesn't mean that I don't trust them at all. It's just that I'm still shy, I'm ashamed to let them know about what I truly feel deep, deep down inside me regarding a certain person or a thing. All through this time I've been trying to lessen this bad habit but still I could hear feedback's about that damned attitude. But inside myself, I know I did something and I think I've lessen it if not totally but at least.
For a Loved One
Since I'm not in a relationship, so i chose a friend (closest), one who knows almost everything about me to give feedback as my loved one. We'll I guess her evaluation and my expectation met. It is exactly I whom she described of being a good kind of friend to her. On the unpleasant side, Oh man!..She hits the bulls eye. Huh,..It hurts...But still I appreciate her of being honest, She really knows me inside out.
From a Sister
She is great and for all the good traits she had, undeniably, the members of our family appreciate her so much. But for me, there is no other traits can fill to complete her existence except for her being kind.
Yet, being good and kind-hearted person will not be appreciated without her alter ego. I observed that she is quite moody and ill-tempered sometimes which makes me feel so irritated.
From Friends
Good companion, good friend, she is a good adviser in different situations. True friend and can be trusted.
She don't talk about what she feels, think on some situations and about some things that bothers her. Sometimes, too frank that could make some people offended.
From a Loved One
Just a point of clarification before I start, I have nothing to do with any romantic involvement with the addressee. I'm just actually a mere friend of hers - one of her closest friends, that is. Well, to me, She's no longer a common friend that comes and goes through the years. She's always been a good companion (everywhere), a listener, a hand when I'm in need and of course, my reflector - who critics and evaluates my damn self.
She has lessen her being "loud-mouth" about anything, but there are some instances that she tends to lose her tact - and again hit others. She also has that irritating attitude wherein she gladly opens a conversation,, bring something up and say a word or two about it and when you ask what was she talking about , She'll just give you a shrug and a dismissing look that tells you to just back-off and forget anything, infuriating, right?
REACTIONS from the addressee
For a Sister
I'm not used to hear any critics or evaluation from my family. We're not that good in expressing inner emotions to each one of us. But since I asked it, so my younger sister tried to have something, jot here in my notes. I'm quite glad to hear some appreciation from her. At first glance, on what she have written, something deep inside softly stabbed my feelings. My gosh!, it touched my heart. On the other hand, upon reading the unpleasant feedback, I'm no longer surprised about those bad stuffs since I consider her as my enemy at home. Don't think that I don't love her - I love her very much. If I could just dare to express my feelings to her, I would tell her How am I thankful and glad for having her as my sister.
For Friends
I'm not anymore surprised of how they appreciate me. I admit I'm that good as a friend, companion and as an adviser to their woe's and predicaments. On the contrary, I also admit being frank and silent or perhaps unfair in the sense that they shared more and I shared less. But it doesn't mean that I don't trust them at all. It's just that I'm still shy, I'm ashamed to let them know about what I truly feel deep, deep down inside me regarding a certain person or a thing. All through this time I've been trying to lessen this bad habit but still I could hear feedback's about that damned attitude. But inside myself, I know I did something and I think I've lessen it if not totally but at least.
For a Loved One
Since I'm not in a relationship, so i chose a friend (closest), one who knows almost everything about me to give feedback as my loved one. We'll I guess her evaluation and my expectation met. It is exactly I whom she described of being a good kind of friend to her. On the unpleasant side, Oh man!..She hits the bulls eye. Huh,..It hurts...But still I appreciate her of being honest, She really knows me inside out.
Saturday, March 22, 2014
THE RAVEN by Edgar Allan Poe (published 1845)
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never- nevermore'."
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by Horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!
[This version of the poem is from the Richmond Semi-Weekly Examiner, September 25, 1849. It is generally accepted as the final version authorized by Poe. Earlier and later versions had some minor differences. Source]
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never- nevermore'."
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by Horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!
[This version of the poem is from the Richmond Semi-Weekly Examiner, September 25, 1849. It is generally accepted as the final version authorized by Poe. Earlier and later versions had some minor differences. Source]
Diocelan buenconsejo
from Cebu City Philippines
"I'm not really into literature but when I read one of Poe's short stories I felt awe... It's really strange and scary... That short story is The Raven."
signed 2009.06.20 5:19pm
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Reality
I admit I am really not into writing but I’ve been always
found myself grabbing a piece of paper and a pen in times of hazy moments. You
know, dark moments. When no one is here with me and there’s nowhere to run.
I usually
spend my time formulating and calculating
equations with numbers and letters. And now, I found myself seeing words trying
to compose and figure out my innermost thoughts and feelings deep down from
within. I really don’t know. Maybe I am
just scribbling anything for nothing. Huh, hate feeling sucks.
While
groping in the dark behind these closed doors I must confess I’ve done
stuffs…stupid one’s I think. You know, things that there’s no sense at all and
unhealthy which never have been.
My life got
totally screwed when you left. People may not see as it seems to be but believe
me I am broken and frozen. You broke me off into pieces. The tearful pain it
brought marked an end. Hurtful and painful…nothing I could compare with those
bloody aching body parts caused by those nonsense fights we used to have had
back then.
On the 4th
day of November 2012, it was Sunday, no work of course. I did my Sunday routine
went to church in the morning, took my lunch and slept after awhile to
condition myself for the following morning as I usually do. At around 3 o’clock
of that silence deafening afternoon, a vibrate sounds from my phone awaken me
and somehow I found my heart throbbed like that for the first time when I saw
my mother’s name blinked on screen from the Philippines. So, I picked up my phone
and heard mama’s voice and asked me to call her since she didn’t have
enough load to talk for long. I dropped the call and hurriedly went downstairs
to purchase a call card. Emergency stuffs run all over my head that time.
So I called
mama, the darkest moment in my life came in as my mother relayed me the
story:
”me: hello, ma?
mom: dai, lig-ona imu kasing2x…
me: ha! naunsa man diay mu diha? Asa man diay
si papa?
mom: lig-ona lage u kasing2x diha kai ikaw ra baya usa
me: nganu lage mu diha, naunsa lage diay mu
diha.
mom: naghikog man imung manghud, tua imu papa sa
purinarya”
I dropped
the call, my tears fell like rain that day. I couldn’t bear the pain that I
almost wanted to follow you. I just cried and cried all night and day all along.
I asked the company here to let me attend to your wake. I spent tearful
sleepless nights and days up to the last moment that I could see your face and
bade goodbye.
“What was
really happened?” Oh, how I wish to hear answers and arguments from you. I mean
anything. I really love to hear anything from you but I know that it never
gonna happen because you’re not here with us anymore. You’re really gone.
It’s been
six months already since you passed away. Tearful sleepless nights are still
there with me. And for those nights that I managed to get a sleep, there you
were tried to comfort me with those little hugs and talks. I love you sis so
much. I miss you a lot. Thank you for everything. You are always in my prayers.
May you rest in peace with Him. Your two kids will always remind me of you.
I’ll be their shelter no matter what. We love you.
( We love you sis...)
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Dare Me to Leave
I tried to stop the flow
But I can't help myself from fending off
Oh, how strong that flow
To be carried away by a certain hope.
It's been a see through for you
I don't need to hide from that dark shadow
Yes, it is clear like a crystal ball
No sun shines and no tomorrows.
It's been in my thought that you know
That it's always been on a cloud nine
Every time you'll be fastened by my sight.
Just wanna ask you something...
Please let me enjoy the moment I could be on a cloud nine
And could freely walk on fresh air.
Vulnerable Pride...Every Pain Blows.
But I can't help myself from fending off
Oh, how strong that flow
To be carried away by a certain hope.
It's been a see through for you
I don't need to hide from that dark shadow
Yes, it is clear like a crystal ball
No sun shines and no tomorrows.
It's been in my thought that you know
That it's always been on a cloud nine
Every time you'll be fastened by my sight.
Just wanna ask you something...
Please let me enjoy the moment I could be on a cloud nine
And could freely walk on fresh air.
Vulnerable Pride...Every Pain Blows.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Warning
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
Jenny Joseph
Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Tatak Pinoy!
My
first day of work in this foreign land was kind of blank. Everything was new to
me and so with the company since it was their first time too to have workers
from the Philippines .
We were only seven back then and another eleven arrived the following month. We
had our orientation in their national language. Without an interpreter…heck! We’re
dead by now. They taught us first our names in their own characters and how it
pronounced followed by the company’s management system. Writing my name in
their language was like I was sketching my pad for a design.
After
the orientation, we we’re introduced to our local co-workers in our respective
assignments. It was really hard for me then to communicate them. It was good
that the company provided us a half blood Filipina interpreter at work for a
month while on training. But that one month with an interpreter was not really
enough for us to learn everything in relation to our work. The company was not
ready for us too since all of the communication and report forms were not in
English. Just imagine how we had understood all those forms in that kind of system.
As daily routine, a morning briefing conducted by our department supervisor
seemed only intended to the local workers and not for us since we never
understand what they were talking about. A month after, some forms and reports
were revised for the benefit of foreign workers like us. But mostly of the
communications passed and posted have no translations. And also, there was no
payday we didn’t have problems on their computations. Not fair in all aspects,
we thought. We felt a little bit kind of racial discrimination. It’s been a
year already and why those communications like that morning briefing, no one
would care to explain and translate it for us foreign workers. If we won’t bother asking our local partners, we’ll never know the content to any form of
communications.
What
I did, I talked more to my local co-workers everyday. I embraced all their
criticisms of how I sounded using their own language. I taught them a little
English and so they were to me in their own language. And now thank God I can
talk a little…I understand, not all but at least I understood what they meant.
I’m just thankful that I got local partners who were good. They treated me as
their friend. They tried their best to talk and explain to me anything well.
Just
last week, the company has undergone an audit to upgrade. People from Germany
visited our company to conduct the inspection. Of course, they have prepared
everything to show the best of what they have. What surprised me was that the
auditor was a Filipina. When she arrived I almost heard everyone’s heart beats
including our bosses. The company’s vice president was the one who entertained and
talked to her in English with all the department heads at his back. When they
reached our station, we were introduced as her kababayan that we
came from her own land Philippines .
Physically, she was just like those ordinary pinay. She was more
like of GMA. I was a little bit taller than her. She was introduced
as Ms. Marge. She smiled a lot to us pinay and threw some tagalog
greetings. When she scanned our operation manual and reports, she
started to throw questions on our boss without any hesitations and showed an unsatisfied look. I saw my boss
face and the heads were in panic. They began to create sounds and tried to
answer every question. Still, Ms. Marge was not satisfied. She was that smart
and brilliant. She was that perfectionist. She scanned every detail and asked
any confusion she met. Wow! My boss crawled into the hands of a smart Filipina like Ms. Marge. But despite
the unsatisfied look, every time she glanced our way, she smiled a lot. I am
proud of her. I am proud to be a Filipina.
I salute you Ms. Marge. Two thumbs up for you.
Yan
ang tatak Pinoy!
To
the people who tried to discriminate and looked us down…We got even! J
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