Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Death feels so close. I know that my days are numbered. I don't know how I know; I just know.
I am not afraid. As I have always said, I will welcome death when it comes. I just feel sad for those I will leave behind. On the other hand, I feel more alive now that I know that I am dying. I appreciate life more than ever, now that it is slowly slipping away. I just hope that I will have enough time to make my dreams come true. I just hope that I will have enough time to say "sorry" to all the people I've hurt, and to make amends. I just hope I will have the chance to tell all the people in my life how much they mean to me and how much I love them before I go. With very little time in my hands, I hope I won't leave any good undone.
Posted @ 7:38 PM
Sunday, August 28, 2005
I'm here in the office, organizing my inbox and my things. I have also printed out the emails that the SRs sent for me to study. I'm supposed to be enjoying my rest day, but I just can't get over the fact that I may be one of the "dunces" here in Macromedia...
I just heard that Mike and his girlfriend have broken up. I was in the restroom yesterday when I heard the girl say, "Walang hiya siya...". She said that she has been without a boyfriend for weeks. I wonder what Mike did to her. Well, I'd rather mind my own business...
I haven't been eating well since I saw the pictures in the email that Ru-ann forwarded. They're gross! In Japan, people have been eating babies! I don't think those babies were fetuses. They were infants! They even sell preserved babies' brains! I find it hard to believe that some people could be so appallingly inhuman! Most animal species do not eat their own kind. Infancy is the stage in which a human being is most beautiful. It saddens and infuriates me to see those babies being butchered like some common livestock. It saddens me even more to think that they would be reduced to shit afterwards...
I miss her. I cannot deny that I am still in love with her. I have been trying to meet guys hoping that I will fall in love again. I constantly remind myself that she is now married. I know that she is happy, and I am happy for her. I am honestly happy for her, but I am sad for myself. What really pains me is that I can never make her happy the way her husband does. I miss her so much. My heart always aches for her. I have paid a dear price for loving her this way. It may take years before I get over her, or perhaps I never will...However, as I have said, I must never let my happiness depend upon the decisions of others. I've loved her and have lost, but life goes on...
I miss my family. I wish I could go home this Christmas, but it is like asking for the moon. I've just found out that I need to wait till March before I could file for a V.L. Sykes employees are entitled to V.L.s a year after they were hired...
I'm having a bout with the big D again. I've promised to be happy no matter what. I think I need to see a movie...to relax...to beat stress...
Posted @ 3:19 AM
Monday, August 22, 2005
All my life, I have been plagued by a lot of fears about myself. The strongest fear that I have regarding myself is the fear of not being good enough. I am the worst critic there can ever be, and who is my unfortunate victim? Myself...
I have to struggle with the feeling of inadequacy from day to day. The question that I often ask myself these days is, "Am I good enough for my job?" I must admit that I sometimes hate this job, because it makes me feel stupid. I don't care if the customers are irate as long as I can say for certain that I am right and what I did was right.
I am trying hard to love this job. It is my means to survive. I really love it when the customers sound happy because they have been helped, even if they make my AHT scores soar...haaaay...The other day, I was able to troubleshoot a PA issue. The customer actually sang "Hallelujah!" Two weeks ago, there was this customer who was anxious to finish her school project, but didn't know what to do with her software. I was able to help her install and activate it. I took pity on her because she was on the verge of tears. Her thank you meant so much to me. She made my day go better...
------------------
Four Days Later...
Ian made me sign my PMP form. He said this is for my regularization. Wheee! I hope I can prove myself worthy of my job. I promise to put forth my best effort. I know I can perform well in this job. I just need to be more optimistic and confident.
Posted @ 2:45 PM
Sunday, August 14, 2005
This is the first speech I've ever delivered in a Toast of Mensa meeting. I don't need to tell anyone how terrified I was when I delivered this speech. For most people, the fear of public speaking is worse than the fear of dying. As Seinfeld puts it, "At a funeral, most people would rather be in the coffin than at the lectern delivering the eulogy". My speech, by the way, was much-applauded (I don't know why...). I managed to feign confidence. I consider delivering my first speech before a group of strangers with high IQs as one of my greatest victories. By the way, everything that I said in my speech (except that part about my guardian angel)is true.
Good evening fellow Toastmasters and welcome guests. Before I begin my speech, allow me to convey my appreciation to everyone of you who made me feel that I belong here. You see, I have never felt more welcome anywhere else.
For those who do not know me yet, I am Diane. My full name is Diane Cecilia Aldecoa de la Cruz. Giving our names is the first thing we do when we introduce ourselves. Tonight, I will take a few steps farther. I will tell you the meaning of my given names, why my parents named me so, and how I am living up to my name.
According to my mother I was conceived on a full moon and was born on a Monday, the moon's day. If you check the perpetual calendar, you will find that my date of birth, October 27, 1975, indeed fell on a Monday. It's not hard to see why my parents named me after the Roman moon goddess, Diana. They couldn't have thought of a more befitting name.
My father gave me my second name, Cecilia, in honor of the patron saint of musicians. Making music has always been the family craft. Everyone in our family is adept in playing at least one musical instrument. For my part, I play the piano, the guitar, and the flute. I love music. I owe my existence to it because it brought my parents together. They both used to be in a band. Mom was the lead vocalist and Dad was the pianist and the musical arranger. They met when the band was formed, and from then on, their romance blossomed.
When I studied Latin, I learned that "Cecilia" means "blind". I eventually found out that Saint Cecilia, after whom I was named, was indeed blind. With these two names, "Diane" and "Cecilia", I realized that I have an appellation that means "The Blind Moon Goddess".
I've always liked my first name, and more so when Princess Diana became popular. No offense to my namesakes and to the visually impaired, but I hated "Cecilia", my second name, because I didn't want to be called "blind".
I complained to my Mom about this, telling her what my second name actually means. She just smiled and said, "Well, it isn't so bad. Look, you're living up to your name. You have a lot of divine qualities, but you are blind to them. You're like a goddess, but you don't act as if you were better than anyone else. "And," she said with a wink, "you have the sex appeal of a screen goddess, but you're not even aware of it, which makes you even sexier." Of course, that was my Mom, my number one fan, speaking. As far as know, I have the sex appeal of a doornail.
My friend offered a better explanation as to how I am living up to my name. She said, "Yeah, your parents couldn't have named you more aptly. You're indeed a blind moon goddess. You're a bit of a loony, your head is always up in the clouds, and you act as if you were blind." I am sure that she meant it as a joke, but I am starting to think that it is true. You see, absent-mindedness is one of my worst faults. I've lost count of how many times I have tripped and fallen. I have fallen down the stairs and hit by cars on several occasions. I have been through a lot of near mishaps on account of my absent-mindedness. Thanks to my guardian angel, I have never suffered from any serious injury. That I have never had a broken bone is nothing short of a miracle. Sometimes, I imagine my guardian angel looking so tired and exasperated, with his wings ruffled and his golden halo bent out of shape. I bet he's beseeching God for another assignment.
My absent-mindedness has led me to a lot of embarrassing situations as well. Let me tell you about one. Almost a couple of years ago, a group of politicians visited Kalibo, my home town, to join the Ati-atihan festivities. The highlight of the festivities was the celebration of the Holy Mass, which was held at the town plaza. After receiving the Holy Communion, I headed back to where I was seated. I was oblivious to my surroundings because I was steeped in prayer. My head was once more up in the clouds. I was zapped back to reality when I felt that my left foot had stepped on somebody's toes. When I looked up to see who the unfortunate person was, I had the shock of my life. I saw a familiar face, with eyes turning into little slits as the person smiled sheepishly. Guess who it was? It was Bong Revilla! He probably looked even more embarrassed than I did. Of course, I apologized profusely before I tried to disappear from the knowing eyes. Later, my friends would tease me, "Hey you should have asked for his autograph," and I would brag jokingly in reply, "That's so baduy! I stepped on a politician's toes and all he did was smile at me. Now, how many people can truthfully say that?"
Well, that's just me, Diane Cecilia, the Blind Moon Goddess, living up to her name. Once again, good evening.
Posted @ 4:29 PM
Sunday, August 07, 2005
I was preparing to go to work last night. I was about to take a bath. I had already splashed some water on my body using a "tabo" when I stepped on something mealy and slimy. When my eyes fell on the floor, I leapt out of revulsion; there they were - rat crap-- black pellets on the bathroom floor. Ewwww! Each piece was almost as big as my little finger. I was very worried because I have a small cut on my toe; I feared that might catch liptospirosis, a disease contracted from exposing an open wound to rat's urine. Quickly, I grabbed a bottle of chlorine bleach and spilled a lot of it on the floor. Without thinking, I doused my cut with the bleach and I almost screamed out of pain. When I came to my senses, I put my wounded toe under running water to get rid of the chlorine. What was I thinking? Maybe, I thought it would be better to die of chlorine poisoning than suffer for days from liptospirosis. But, no, I didn't want to die of poisoning either.
Thoughts came rushing into my head. I remembered Benjamin Abalos' daughter, Ciara, who died within days after eating a burger sandwich contaminated with E. Coli. Her illness was initially diagnosed as liptospirosis; the disease can kill a person just as quickly. I furiously mopped the floor with chlorine-and-detergent solution. I got rid of the offensive pellets by washing them down the drain. It was not long after when I realized that I desperately did not want to die. Suddenly, I laughed. I remembered that barely a year ago, I was so desperate to die that I would often pray and say to God, "Please take me home." I would cry till my eyes almost bled. I would even brag that I was not afraid to die. I would even go out at night unaccompanied, exposing myself to drug-crazed people who prowl on the streets, not heeding the warning of my well-meaning friends and not minding the news that so and so was either raped, stabbed to death, or mauled by drug addicts. I was ready to die. I was just looking for an opportunity to die, because I was too scared to take my own life. (The streets of Manila are safer than the streets of Kalibo. Most people in my hometown are asleep by 10:00 PM; by then, most of the streets would be dark and empty.)
Despite my fear, suicide was not far from my mind. I would run searches in Google for painless suicide methods. I read the biographies of Ernest Hemmingway, Virginia Woolf, and Sylvia Plath - writers who tragically took their own lives. Two years ago, I bought a pack of Racumin powder and some Tuseran capsules. I carefully took out the contents of each Tuseran capsule and filled the empty ones with the rat poison. I rented a cheap room in a pension house near my hometown; I wanted to die away from home. I wanted to spare my family from the horror of finding my lifeless body. I cried my eyes out and begged God for forgiveness. I was so miserable that figured that God would understand if I took my own life. Well, I simply spat out the capsule as soon as I put one into my mouth. I just couldn't do it! I was just too damn scared! My fear of hell was my only suicide deterrent.
Suicide is the farthest thing from my mind now; this is ironic since I don't believe in hell anymore. I believe that I will reincarnate after my present life ends. I still get depressed sometimes, but my attitude toward depression has changed. Sometimes, depression is a sign that a person needs to mature. The maturation process is painful; a person needs to relinquish the familiar (often cherished) things of the past and step into an uncertain future. Relinquishment often leads to depression, but a healthy person should recover in no time and be ready to accept reality for what it is. I have stopped complaining about the way things are. I have learned that people miss out on the good things in life because they keep on focusing on what they do not have. I have learned that it is useless to complain about the injustice in this world or about the unfairness of life; if one wants justice, he/she must actively seek it rather than complain about the lack of it. I have learned to laugh at the things that used to make me feel bad. I have learned to love and forgive myself. I have learned not to allow my happiness to depend on the decisions of others. I am certainly 100% happier now than I was a couple of years ago...
Love is what gives me a sense of purpose. Maybe I am still here because a lot of people need to meet me, or perhaps they need to be loved by me. I have realized that a lot of people love me. I don't want to die yet, because I know that a lot of people will grieve. I do have a morbid presentiment, though; I am going to die young. I still am not afraid to die, but I don't want to die yet. I have so many things to accomplish, so many things to try, and so many people to know and love.
One of these days, I am going to come up with my list of reasons to live. I am going to treat the idea of killing myself like rat crap; I will rid myself of it completely and wash it down the drain.
Posted @ 8:39 AM
Thursday, August 04, 2005
My Tita Carmen sent me some goodies from the States through her friend, Gina. I lugged a suitcase full of bed sheets and pasalubongs into my room in the boarding house where I stay. I was very happy; I'm so blessed to have a Tita who always gives me what I need and more. Eagerly, I searched the pockets of the suitcase for more goodies; what I found were three little Catholic books – books on faith, the sufferings of Christ, and prayer. I knew they were from my grandmother, Lola Lily; Tita Carmen is no longer a Catholic.
I could not help crying. I knew that the books were surreptitiously placed in the side pockets of the suitcase for me to find. My Tita Carmen wouldn't want those books to be in that suitcase. My Lola wanted to "save" my soul. She has always reminded me to "keep close to our Lord". What she does not know is that I have abandoned the religion that she has taught me to believe. I love my Lola and I do not want to break her heart. She has always been proud of me. I was once a catechist, a lector, a church choir soloist, a music minister, and a Christian radio talk show host. I have served God through the church. However, I would not be true to God, to myself, and to everyone else if I were to remain a Catholic.
I've gone through a crisis of faith in the last ten years. I struggled to keep the faith. I searched arduously for the answers to my questions. I have studied the Catholic faith assiduously. I was super relihiyosa. I wanted to vivify my faith in my life. I became active in church activities. I tried to please God the way Catholicism taught me how, but I only found emptiness. I struggled against my sinful tendencies, and I found myself defeated.
I don't want to believe because I might be damned if I don't - I don't want to worship a God who is a divine tyrant. Neither do I want to believe simply because believers will be rewarded in the afterlife - that would be divine bribery. I cannot take blind faith, especially if it is toward some religious institution that claims to possess the whole truth. "I will not say 'yes' in ignorance, or 'no' in spite of it."
I cried. I cried because it hurts to think that I have to hide the truth from a person who loves me dearer than life. I cried because I knew what Lola did was an act of love. I appreciate the love, but I cannot be what she wants me to be...
Posted @ 4:55 PM
