When I was still in college, signing documents, aside from the ones I get during enrollment, felt like being an empowered kid signing a blank check. I wrote, received or signed “documents” before–for or from my college organizations and “mock consultancy firms” we formed during group presentations. I get my Fine Tech, pretend it’s a fountain pen, and start wiggling the tip to form powerful strokes. Bam, I just signed it, it becomes the law, citizens of the world! Not until I get a job that I realized how serious signing a document is. Not that I discount the importance of signing something before, but signing something now, in the professional setting that is, takes a lot (or more) of privilege and responsibility, knowledge and practicality, and authority and honesty. Lives are at stake, almost literally, when you do or don’t sign something.
Sometimes, when driving, I reminisce the days when I was still learning how to handle the wheel. The past two years of driving spree were not glorious ones. I had my first car accident (with two damaged panels), learned how to live with a clutch, tamed the stick and pathetically cheered for myself while parking in reverse. I guess I am not a Master Driver yet who can drive, windows down, and let the public know how great, and good looking, the driver is—but I’m about to become one, with the good looking measure, at least. Haha. Driving can be a life skill, if not yet considered as one. As a skill considered as a necessity when I started working, I had no choice but to engulf good driving skills. Fortunately, I have been driving with confidence without worrying about the slippery flyover in Magallanes, swerving in the deadly roads of Commonwealth and taking a U-turn in Katipunan. Moreover, the car that I am driving now is automatic so I can temporarily forget my clutch magic tricks.
You opened the windows and grabbed a stick. It is a time to reflect about life and check if you still have that grit. You stood still and looked above—there goes the first string of smoke. You smirked, smiled and smelled; good thing you did not choke. Feeling rebellious, you inhaled another. For a change of view, you looked down under. Here goes the second string as you feel your right lung sting.
August 05, 2008 and July 10, 2011 are the two dates I will always remember. These are the ends of a string I keep inside my pocket. I discreetly hold on to it as if it’s strong enough to stop me from visiting Perplex City and driven enough to push me towards the borders of Vivacious Ville (this “place” sounds funny). Anyway, I tied this piece of string around my finger so that I’ll always remember–think of it as a mini memorial. For growth’s sake, I need to think that this piece of string is not an elfin effigy. It’s just, after all, an ephemera. COME ON, ALPS AGUADO, stop this teenage drama. This is just a stupid heartache. Throw it away.
Maggots are eating my emotional cheese right now but it’s business as usual here at my online quarters. While I’m waiting to recover from this heartbreak vexation and for a stronger-scented emotional cheese delicatessen, I shall spill my excess energy into my professional pail. For this blog entry, I want to talk about “accountability” and how such concept became a business buzzing bee whenever I am working and how it needs to be homogeneous in a specific bureaucratic level. [Read more...]
I rarely expose my emotional nudity to the public or through this blog. If you know me personally, I don’t really share problems over spilled beer except for the few instances that I cannot longer fit my powdered emotions in my state of mind capsule. This post may be Tumblr-ish or may be a form of a long Twitter Blabber–but I don’t care. These are the few moments in my life that I play an extreme sport on my slippery through and I’m willing to have a public exhibition. John Maxwell even said that in order to credible, you have to show your weakness. Quite ironic, but I’m not doing this for credibility’s sake but for the passion of emotional writing.
Intelligent people are impatient. They know that they have the ability to solve problems faster than those on the lower part of the Scholastic Pyramid. This notion weakens their heart for creativity because they gambled everything for competition’s sake. The fast paced knowledge industry wants to define the ideal brain persona–someone who is aggressively intelligent and competitive and can inject reflective practice into a reactive society. This isn’t a breed. This isn’t a compromise either. This is how human intelligence should function.
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy offered to us the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything. Yes, “42″ is the answer. If the answer to everything is this easy to remember, then humanity can take advantage of this pocket panacea. However, reality is made or perceived to be complex so carrying just a 42 in our life luggage is useless. The intricate patterns woven on the knowledge society is hard to understand. Explaining it is even harder. Thanks to people like Albert Einstein who believe that everything is simple. And to Albert Gray too. He claimed that he found the common denominator of success. [Read more...]
My mom accompanied and supported me during my first years in a formal school. From making rainbow loaf sandwiches as a baon to waiting for classes to end at a noisy and oh-so-motherly Parents’ Waiting Area, she made sure that I’ll survive the life outside home and life away from momma. One of best and funny moments I can remember is during a time when we were reviewing for a Math exam. One of the competencies I needed as a preschool student was adding and subtracting numbers with images. For example, one egg plus one egg is? I HAVE THE ANSWER, MOM! Anyway, as my first tutor and teacher, she made a reviewer for me.
I just realized that I don’t have any entry for the month of April (my birthday month, btw) so before I begin to scribble on the May 2011 portion of my planner, I guess I have to broadcast quick updates first. April was a maelstrom of everything nice and bad. My personality engine starts to crank due to a stress aggregate which I can hardly define and illustrate. Thanks to my resiliency, I am able to deal with all the miserable matters in life. For sure, a bigger monster is already on its conception stage–but I guess I’ll be welcoming it with a big grin during its nascency.