No Compromise

Last year, I had this grand plan of networking so that I would have better chances of getting employed on a 5 months work to residence visa. So, I joined devotees of the Senor Sto Nino. We met 3rd Friday of each month for prayers and Sundays nearing the Feast of the Sto Nino. Auckland is host to the Sinulog festivities and I am helping organize it. We will be on our 16th year.

Then came the opportunity to write a monthly online column for the Katilingbang Bisaya sa New Zealand (Society of Bisaya Speakers in NZ)

As if it was not enough, I volunteered to help a group organizing regular trainings for migrants to upskill in IT through Software Testing. This to help them get their permanent residencies at a time when jobs in engineering and accounting is scarce.

Added to the fact that I have to fit in gymn and dance classes to my daily routine to get my weight to a healthy level.

Recently, projects in the pipeline are for a big IT school and a migrant monthly paper. I have been able to forge new friendships. But sometimes it saddens me to not have time enough to chat with the people who really matters. Those that have helped us settle here. Yet, I am happy to see people benefitting from the prayers and the trainings and the stories we have collectively pursued.

It breaks my heart when people ask me to be there for them but I could not because I am now to busy.  I should always make people matter, otherwise, what is the purpose in all of this.  There should be no compromises. 24 hours in a day is now not enough.

FB-ing

As soon as I get home, I check my emails and visit my apartment at Yoville. I log into my so called Cyberlife. I go to work at the Widget Factory. I log in at least twice a day to work so I can buy furniture to decorate my one bedroom apartment. Then, I do a virtual dance with friends, send them hotdogs or flowers for gifts and share jokes with one click of the mouse button. (at FaceBook).

My family is hooked on FB too. Me, mom and Micmic are members of the Kilusang Magbubukid ng Farm Town. We send each other trees (banana, apple, orange…) and farm animals (rabbits, horses, cows and pigs). On some lucky moments, our avatars get to chat online. Funny but our avatars looks so much alike too. Family of farmers? (ingon pa)

My sons are into farming too. (as well as into Yoville, Mafia Wars, and Restaurant City).

Advantage: My kids prefer to stay home over the weekends and spend time updating their farms and apartments and they ask me for virtual gifts (which does not cost me moolah, just one convenient finger tap and I make them smile)

Disadvantage: ADDICTING!

Yes, Facebook has consumed my nights with crazy diversions.  I keep a list of the seeds that returns more earnings for my farm. I get excited to see new items sold at the Home Depot (i gotta have those). I enjoy giving gifts and receiving them. I do jobs for the Godfather (feeling Mafia Princess).  And opened Maria’s at Restaurant City.

I have not stopped harvesting and planting, nor have I stopped re-decorating my little apartment at Yoville. (I have a routine to make sure I don’t miss my factory and farm work) I want to have the blue curtains. I want to own a mansion for Lupang Hinirang (my farm) . I want to grow my Mafia…always this constant wanting for more…

It never stops. The quench to outdo another farm, to out decorate another apartment, to outfight another mafia. It is diversion for me. It keeps me awake while watching or is it listening to TV. and I enjoy teasing the kids with my acquisitions. (bad lagi ko)

Chelo is right, she warned me about FB taking me away… I got reunited with people of my past and we have been reunited at a ‘friend list’ level. As my friends list grew, I found I spend more and more time getting updated with their life. (Catching up! Exchanging hellos) and visiting them on this virtual farms and communities.

What next? This has got to stop I realize. Sleeping past midnight to beat my 10 year old son’s score at Bejewelled is insane I know. (Fa-et)

Me thinking…what to do?

On the upside, however – I am happy that my family is into FB. I know where to find the kids. I know where to find mom and Micmic. and my former boss is now my neighbor sa Yoville.  Oh yeah, I now keep a very busy Cyberlife but a “so so” real life. Pathetic me. =(  Realizing I am off balance. (better late than never)

Raising Insoy

I told Therese I wished Insoy did not grow up to be a teenager. As soon as he turned 13, he turned temperamental on me. He listens to migraine – inducing music -  the likes of Escape the Faith and other screaming songs. He certainly beats my brother in the weird music selection department.  Even with the headphones on, I could still hear them yelling the lyrics. And it does not help that he sings it when he takes his shower loud enough to make me think he was in a fight with Basti. (all this screaming does makes me praning). And so to put a stop to it, a new rule was created. No more singing in the shower, and no more listening to this band. He made a big fuss over this rule. He said we were unfair. I could hear myself 20 years ago (or was it 30)?

His room is in constant disarray. Socks, shirts, shoes and pants are all under his bed. We told him we would throw it away if he did not keep it inside his cabinet.  Now his cabinet is so messed up, I don’t know how he could find his school uniform under all the pile of clothes. There is not a single day that I dread entering his room.

He picked up skateboards from the streets. Fixed it up with sandpaper and painted it. I kept on telling him to stay away from our porch because there was a glass divider that could easily break if he hits it with his board but alas the inevitable happened. Mothers intuition worked. We woke up early one day to hear him crying like a carabao and saying his ‘i am sorry’ so many times it went from empathy to annoying. Now it was time for us to cry ‘unfair’.

He quickly put up a ‘for sale’ sign on our mail box selling all his boards for 10$. This was his own version of penitence I suppose and a way of paying for the glass. Boys from across our street came to view the boards that will be forever banned in our house.

1 month ago, he asked us to allow him to do paper runs so he could earn money. The idea was so he could buy his own mobile phone and prepaid load or an electric guitar for the school band.  We agreed so long as it did not interfere with his studies. And we thought, all will be fine and he will learn responsibility. Again, another disappointment. Papers are dropped in the house on Monday afternoon for Tuesday and Wednesday delivery. Friday papers are delivered for Saturday and Sunday delivery. Papers need to be sorted out and folded which needs to be done on the night of Monday and Friday.

I am the type of person who wants things done as soon as possibly can. He on the other hand procastinates and does his chores at the last minute. Just like how he studies for exams. (always cramming). And thus, it has been 1 month that we are in constant squabbles with each other. Me pounding on him the need to organize and him insisting that he has it all sorted out and I should just let him be. That I just trust him. woookay whatever!

And because I am as stubborn as him, I fold the papers and don’t wait for him to do it and I yap about it big time. He then tells me, he can do it by himself (and that I should not interfere) and so I allowed him to. It is the school holiday week. Monday night came, only 50 bundles done by himself, then Tuesday morning comes – nothing was done because he was biking all day. Tuesday evening, he does another 50 bundles which is only half of the 200 needed. Wednesday is the last day of delivery. He wakes up at 10 am and starts folding at 1:00 pm. He finished a 100 to complete the set around 4:30 pm and I was so close to jumping up on him. I had to restrain myself from ranting. He started delivery at 5:00 pm and finished around 6:30 pm. It was getting dark and I was scared. This cramming, this last minute tricks, it drives the hell out of me. I can feel my blood rising up to boiling point. Every hour that he is wasting his time, I feel I will go to a breakdown one day. And so, I fold the paper to keep my sanity in tact. I just cannot stop meddling. I need a major pray over. Everyone tells me to leave him alone. As long as I see him moving so slowly, I get palpitations. Waaahhh.

The only thing we would agree on is an ear piercing or a tattoo. But unfortunately, his Dad won’t allow it until he turns 18 and pays for it.

I am sure he would say it is difficult to raise a mom too. Roland has been the official referee around the house. When the going gets tough, I even get my mom to be my legal counsel and spokesperson just so he listens. He thinks I am so unfair. And I think he is so irresponsible and disorganized. But the problem is, he thinks he is responsible and can take care of himself using his own ways while I think I have always been fair. We both need happy pills around each other.

If I cannot stop him from growing up, can he just fast forward to the age of 20? I can’t wait for him to have a daughter as stubborn as he is. Oh, payback must be sweet. My son drives me crazy but I have never stopped loving him.

January 9

Tough times ahead.

P,E and some other people from a company I used to work for (in the US) have lost their jobs. Stating cost cutting as a reason. The announcement have made some tense mood around the office. V have emailed me his neurosis over the situation. He has just bought a house. They were given a compulsory 2 days leave without pay and each one had to take a 5% pay cut.

It is not comforting at all that last Christmas, 2 of our neighbors lost their jobs. They have been made redundant they say. Auckland is not spared.

During our christmas party, management announced that there will be no salary increase this year. They have congratulated the top honchos who opted for a salary cut just to keep operating cost to a workable level.

Mom had been complaining that they have to repossess the motorcycles they have loaned for financing because the customers are not able to pay anymore. The option to only sell in cash basis is not working either. They have gone into mining, human resources, forwarding, maski nalang unsa – sudlan. It is good that she has loyalistas around.

A dear friend P risked all to try her wings in Singapore but unfortunately have had no luck. Have not heard from her and I worry.

It is sad. We will have to be zealous in our prayers, hang tough with our circumstance yet flexible to explore new territories.

Study other options, learn a new trade, look for inspiration and breathe action.

No matter what happens, PAYT PAYTER!

Nine of Nine (finally!)

My reversal (my life turnaround) happened at 40 something. I have grown – black hair to white hair covered underneath ebony strands. 85 lbs x 2. Crazy to Crazier. A larger bra cup size. Longer hair.  Careful to Careless.

I always had short hair. Called ‘pirot’ for being too lanky. I always passed off as a boy everytime someone passes me the fare on jeepney rides. Palihug ko ‘Dong’ is what they usually say. At 40 something, I decided the short hair did not match the body fats. Turned into a princess from prince. The boys think my hair matches that of the lead singer of Tokio Hotel. When I looked it up, I was shocked to see someone with a really bad hair. Oh, well. Rockstar hair.

But it did not end with the hair, at 40 something, I resigned from work without any job offer, and left for Auckland. Up until now I still think it never happened. Friends who have known me was shocked with the sudden change of heart. I have turned down the US offer at work more than once. I persuaded to no avail my co-workers who resigned not to move out of Cebu. I was relentless in my belief to a point of even mocking those who moved out of Cebu struggling to start a life overseas. And yet, I chewed dust when I packed my bag for Auckland. It is crazy and shameful after all to defy your own beliefs.

I saw myself in the mirror turning to be someone who I never wanted to be yet ironically liking what I see. Long hair and gutsy.

Before, I took short quick showers and dressing up was just jeans and loose t-shirts, now I take longer showers, wear blouses with curves and iron my hair. =) My debut came rather late.

Before, I frowned on Asian women who wore boots as show offs but now my wish is to own one of those f’ckn boots this Christmas. Bahala na if December is summer, I will show off my boots. I want to feel how Khandi felt wearing one. Perhaps I will match it with fairy wings too. They will be red to tribute supergirl Therese and Tita Loy. I also want to be empowered with the color red.

Before, I would prefer watching American films but now I prefer Tagalog films (even Tagalog songs). And I don’t think its ‘Badoy’, its called homegrown music. Atik.

Before, I would prefer branded shoes with matching bags (even imitation ones) to match clothes from designer labels but now I go for bargain hunts, garage sale, seconds. They are ‘vintage’ and ‘classic’. Rare finds. One of a kind. But most of all cheap. 

Before, I would work long hours and make sure everything is done for the day, but now I don’t have guilt feelings leaving the office with coding that still need testing. There is tomorrow to do it. My bus will not wait.

Before, I did not want to have my picture taken because I don’t know how to pose and get that flattering angle, but now I am photo hungry even if the shot looks horrible. They say practice makes perfect, di ba, Ai?

Before, I would not sing in karaoke because I never had a good voice to start with. Okay, I couldn’t carry a tune. But now, I can sing ‘You’re so vain’ and ‘Gimme Gimme’. I will add more to my list. Hinay hinay lang. I’ll start with this.

Before, I would hesitate in joining groups and organizations but now I am so much involved with the Sto Nino – Sinulog organizing group, and Katilingbang Binisaya sa NZ. R couldn’t believe my enthusiasm.

Being in Auckland has taught me a lot of things. It is never too late to change. Know when to bend and don’t be afraid to try what you have never tried before. No bungee jumps at SkyTower but orange colored hair perhaps?

ps. the photo (supposedly an entry for my street signs creativelens assignment) inspired me to choose the topic about hair and of the many different person you can be in this lifetime (irregardless of age) so go slow on being too judgemental. (this is a message to me)

Eight of Nine

I grew up having friends with several siblings. My closest friends have adopted me as one of their own and friends of sisters or aunts and uncles have been acquired using a familiar name that connects everyone to the lineage.  Even in Auckland, the yearning for family is found in the comforts of friends sharing friends and friends sharing relatives.

I am the eldest of 3. I have a brother and a sister who have decided to make the US their home.

Growing up, I would say I had more unforgettable memories with my sister as we share the same room for several years in Cebu and in Manila. She is 7 years younger than me but wiser beyond my years. She is our math wizard and she has a job that I wish I had and a lifestyle that I envy. Every time I needed advise or decisions have to be made, I run to her. I don’t necessarily follow her advise (hehehe) but I enjoy listening to her point of views. She is a sweet sister when she wants to (when she brings me doughnuts at work without any occasion) but she is worst when she is mean (when she makes nasty remarks about my hair). She can change from sweet to mean in seconds and yet I adore her still. I will never stop being proud of her and what she has accomplished. Atenistang mulat she is.

Oh but most of the times I hate her too when I think of her teasing me about my blood type and how she compares me with the #1 Surikbot in the family. We had photos taken in different years having the same pose and she kept it to spite me & show how much weight I have put on. The first picture was taken when she was about 9 years old, she was shorter than me. The latest one, I was shorter than her and several pounds heavier. I miss her a lot and I wish we see each other again because it is so much fun getting lost with her.

We grew up with funny names (thanks to my ever creative mother), Boging, Teloy… and yet Popoy sticks. Popoy is Paul Vincent, my brother. We never had the chance to be close. Blame it to my teenage neurotic episodes or sibbling rivalry perhaps or the reality that we are opposites (he being an extrovert while I prefer the comfort of my room and my own space). We were born 2 years apart and yet everyone thinks he is older. My friends hated his friends. His friends hated my friends. We never agreed on anything. The only time I pitied him was when he got bruised all over due to a fraternity initiation slash hazing. There is not much we could write or talk to each other about without me feeling awkward because I feel I have never been a sister to him growing up. But I cheered for him everytime he plays basketball, tennis, pingpong, volleyball and what not. I enjoy hearing girls having a crush on him. eiiiewww. I check out his girlfriends head to toe. I check out his friends too. I detest his ugly choices of girls and yap about it no end. I love her Keiko like my own. I include him in my prayers and that, I guess makes me her sister in a different kind of way.  I may not miss him that much but I am happy to hear news about him from mom.

Funny how we build network of friends and relatives from other people’s family and yet we have not touched base with our own. It’s never too late to make new memories. Let me start by wishing for a paid vacation to MA. Santa? are you hearing me?

Letting Go

If someone I love and believe in betrays my trust, I will let him go.  I am not a perfect person and I have committed a lot of mistakes in my life that caused hurt to others but I would rather walk out of a relationship that is not based on trust rather than pretend and live on a fairy tale that makes me lose my identity. (no matter how difficult it may seem, it takes courage letting go)

This is what I believe in and I will stand by it.

Note to those reading this: 2 people very dear to me (P and C) needs to read this entry to know where I stand on the stormy situation they are in right now. I love them dearly but seeing one hurt, there is no point on deciding who the victim is. I would rather they stop pretending that there is love left because they cannot love without respect… I say let it go and let the healing begin instead.

Meet Maria

Today, I am officially called Maria. Pick out a Kiwi name the recruitment consultant said. Something that is easy for a Kiwi to use. Maria is common here.

Maria is part of my full name but Kiwis want names to be simplified. They think Consuelo is too foreign a name. And so Maria it is. It takes a little getting used to.

Maria might be my lucky charm. As long as I remember that this is my new name now, then I will be unstoppable.

Not bad for a start. A Kiwi name that I hope does magic on my CV being read and pushed to the interview stage. Good as Gold they say.

Of Keeping Secrets and Rubbish

My bosses T and W have not yet announced my resignation. The silence makes it difficult for me to act normal in the office. I am not too good an actress when it comes to hiding this big decision. I sometimes wish my officemates could read minds so I could stop feeling uncomfortable being in a group not blurting out the news (and worst, I now have this paranoia that people being extra nice to me these days knows i am leaving, its insane). I could not help it any longer and needed a fall guy – someone to share my paranoia. I told our janitor of my leaving and swore I would kill him if any word came out before T and W announces. Poor S, I pity him, but I just had to vent it out to someone who I think will be able to keep mum while fearing for his life.

I started to clear up my desk cabinet of files I have kept for ages. For years, I have moved from desk to desk, office to office and I have kept these files on my cabinet everywhere I went. It was only yesterday that I got to peak inside the folders that I have been keeping for so long. (disguised as being clutterfree for 2008).

The process was more of putting trash away. I realized that I kept rubbish for so long. I kept files in folders of projects that have long died. If I did the cleanup last year, I could have saved myself all the trouble I am going through right now. Some files were just printed out emails of heated exchanges between me and T or W. (I kept them for proof that if I committed suicide, they could be hard evidence). They were the first that went to the shredder.

I did find some training materials that still prove to be useful to this day so I kept them in a separate box ready to be given to my favorite people in the office. It sucks keeping a secret this way.

Yet, at the end of the day, I still could not burn or leave behind some documentation that I wrote and printed. I know I kept them in my computer (but I don’t want to bother and search) and the paper was pinching at my heart to be kept.

I went home yesterday with 2 brown envelops of papers (filled to tearing point) that I just can’t throw away. I will bring them with me if only to remind myself that I once wrote those emails. When I feel lonely, they will surely heal. I giggled at the emails I sent some dorks at the office and I kept the cards and pictures of people who I have met at work (who’s friendship meant something). Some pictures had to go, those that I didn’t want to be reminded of. =)

I have only done one fourth of the pile. There are still three fourth of the rubbish that I need to find time to purge. It is de-stressing and it is a good way to know which files matter most. Now, there is room for new files, new emails, new projects, new friends. I still wish I had done this cleaning up last year. =)

I suck at keeping secrets and throwing rubbish.

Starting Over

This entry will be a note to myself just so myself knows that it is going to be okay.

Warning: This entry will be long.

I believe that I do have a good life. Facts: I live in a good subdivision with a swimming pool, tennis court and clubhouse facility. We own a car (given by my company), we are not paying rent and I have extra moolah to do shopping for myself. I occasionally loan tuition fees for the kids from my mom but I do pay her on time (defensive ba?). My husband’s relatives think we are rich. The term rich should be best interpreted as I am hard working. I worked for 15 years in a company where I started as a junior programmer and then I worked my way up to VP-Development. Hell, it was not easy but looking back through all those years, I still think I am lucky. I am not proud to admit that I am the breadwinner because I still think that I am just lucky than R. Oh, and I pray a lot. And true, I dance the Sinulog every year too on the streets of Sto Nino Village. (unfortunately, they don’t have one this year)

Cebu is home and is where my family and comfort zone is. My friend T applied for NZ and she wanted me to try it too. Sunodsunuron(follow the leader) man ko, so I blindly followed. I followed to support my friend but I never wanted it to happen for myself (because I was fine or so I thought, read on). Our application was lodged in 2005 and we were automatically selected from the pool. NZ rules changed and our application was left there until Dec 2006. The challenge of the long wait, challenged me to pursue it instead. It was a challenge that my friend and I wanted to accomplish. I went to the Carmellites convent and signed a petition. And no I did not bring eggs. Went to the Pink Sisters too. By some stroke of luck and fervent prayers, our application was resurrected and we were invited to do the 2nd step. The 3rd step came on December 21, 2007 and the 4th step on January 3, 2008. I am now on the 5th step and final step before I get to drag my feet on a plane to NZ.

A brother in the US and a sister going to the US soon, logically my parents wanted me to go to the US having worked for a US based company for close to 8 years. 3 times I was offered an H1 visa by the company but I repeatedly said NO. No because I didn’t want to leave Cebu. No because I could not imagine myself keeping house on weekends (i don’t even know how to cook or iron). No because I had my comfort zone here. I didn’t want to start all over. I wanted to grow with Cebu. In fact, I wrote a blog about it at Multiply.

But why now? Why NZ? The same question that my Dad asked me. I answered: I love mountains, and peace and quiet. He answered: You have the wrong profession. (He knows that I was lying)

My dad is right. I don’t know the answers myself. Do I really want the peace and quiet (insist on my shyness and anti-social tendencies). Or am I only challenging myself and be my retarded self, insisting that US is too easy and NZ is more challenging. Or face up to the truth that my work has come to a frigid state. No more excitement for me. No more toxic days that was self imposed against frantic deadlines wanting to stay up late and finish a project. At almost 42, I don’t have the answers that Bill Gates do (and that is to leave Microsoft and devote time to his charity/foundation). I don’t know what I am looking for but I am sure that I am not happy with my job anymore. An opportunity to find gold in Bohol would be something I would do just to get out of this office. For several months now, I have been busy reading blogs, finding answers and most of all keeping myself busy just so I don’t have to delve on finding the answers to this “dry” state.

My dad says what is important is finding a job that makes you happy. He said he worked for Coke his whole life. Never did he think of leaving or thought of boring or having exciting days at work. Maybe this is just a phase. What if it is not? My mom and my boss have been convincing me that this is a good move. My friends are cheering me on.

I have tendered my resignation from work last January 8. My 10 year multiple entry US visa expires on the same day. My US boss’ wife finally gave birth to their first born son on the same day. It seems the universe is helping to put the plans into place. (pakapin nalang na ang nanganak akong boss, or so I think he will be in a good mood to know I am leaving).

I am trying best to be strong — convincing my heart and mind that NZ will be a new challenge. I will start from zero. No work and with just enough funds to survive 3 months. Exciting or scary?

I have been putting up a strong front to my family. Telling them this is what I want. The kids are convincing themselves that NZ will be a good place. I don’t want to fail them. My parents are trusting that this is what I want. I don’t want to fail them. But most of all I don’t want to fail me. I want this to work. This plan started because of selfish motives but I want this to be right for everyone. My sister says, if God leads you to it, He will help you through it. My friend T is still in step 3. I pray for her too and at the back of my mind, I want her to succeed too.

Yes, Chichi, Maria Consuelo, Teloy, Konsuy, Charmed One. It will be okay. Just keep the faith. Believe in yourself. It is okay to start all over. Prayers will be answered. Carpe Diem.

ps. writing this blog and letting it all out is liberating. i now know the feeling. whew. yipee. therapy.