To our eldest brother,

It was late at night and the television program they were watching at the living room sucked. I went to what was then our sari-sari store where another television was set up only to find you there. I was frustrated with the thought of how it sucks to be the youngest and how it sucks more to not watch cartoons when you want it most.

But I sat there, beside you. And you told me to watch National Geographic with you. I laughed and thought those are for nerds, but I watched it with you anyway, which then unfolded my love for the channel. And we sat there, you telling me additional facts, explaining what was happening-- and our age gap of sixteen years disappeared. It was at that moment that I felt your presence most. It was at that moment that you became my brother.

You left for Taiwan and worked abroad. That time I did not feel the loss. I was excited actually, thinking of all the imported stuff I was going to ask from you. All the huge-ass packages I imagined in my head to which my expectations were met. I enjoyed all the chocolates, the doll house set, the blouses, and when I learned that you had a girlfriend there-- I wrote a letter to you, to which I realized was never sent because mom never put it in the post.

In that letter was my request for you to send me snow and who your girlfriend was, how old was she, does she have long hair, was she Taiwanese, does she watch National Geographic too, and what was her name.

Of course, I never got a respond. I don't blame you. It was mom's fault. This was the time the loss started sinking in. I was no longer your favorite. That time I thought you gave her chocolates too, and a dollhouse set, and blouses. That thought broke my heart.

I became hesitant whenever I text or call you because I know your attention belonged to someone else (also because international calls and texts were very expensive), which eventually brought back our age gap.

And finally, you came home. The gap still evident. You bought me material things which you thought would make up for all those years, which at that time did, but for a short while.

We didn't hang out that much anymore because you were busy handling the family business and I was busy graduating elementary and battling puberty. The gap felt like twenty years although it was only sixteen. 

We've had our chitchats but they were never conversations. It was when I was fourteen and sneaked out to a beach party that our parents did not know about. I got busted and was scolded in the family dining room. Being told of how I was a liar, how I will end up pregnant before graduating high school and how come I did not dare ask permission from them.

And there you stood and told them, "Alangan kabalo man siya na kung mananghid siya dili siya sugtan, edi dili nalang siya mananghid." ("She knows you won't allow her to go if she asked, so she'd rather not ask permission.") which was my exact sentiments.

There was also that same year when you taught me how to drive. You told me to watch carefully and then ushered me to the driver's seat afterwards. I asked you was that all someone needs to know to learn to drive because the idea seemed complex before the driving lesson, and you told me that wasn't everything someone needs, it's what I need. You told me I was a fast learner and I'll eventually find out the mechanical stuff afterwards, which I did. But my point here was I was touched with how easily you trusted me and your belief in my learning efficacy.

Then I got to college, not pregnant (hi mom and dad!), and little by little the gap slowly faded. We talked about business, current events, different industries and their processes, people with great minds and their breakthrough inventions-- it was like National Geographic all over again.

Aside from the rambles of facts and biographies, yours was a piece I could not forget. The day you opened up your emotional sentiments was the day you became my brother again.

I couldn't forget the day you told me you broke up with your girlfriend. You were thirty-three and I was seventeen. You told me your reason. "She wants to have children. We've been trying. But I can't." And I started crying too. If it wouldn't be awkward to hug you at that moment I would have. I was crying not only because of the heartbreak you were feeling, but also because of the fact that you cannot be a father biologically.

You would be a great dad. I believe so. Despite your strict and dominant facade, you always had this soft spot in you that I myself saw and experienced. But I couldn't utter them into words because you were crying in front of me and you never cry, so I just sat there and appreciated the rawness, with the misery of not being able to tell you my sentiments.

And today, I was told that she was getting married to her colleague. I was genuinely happy for her. I don't know if I should feel the same for you. Should I? I am proud at the strength you put out in letting her go, so should I? Kuya, I wanna know. I wanna know if you had regrets or if they were necessary. I wanna know how life goes at thirty-five.

I don't have the guts to read this to you nor do I plan on making it known. Funny how the gap is still there despite of it all. Maybe the gap's necessary. It puts us where we should be. Until now I cannot tell you my sentiments, so let's just make this another letter that was unintentionally never sent. This time it wouldn't be mom's fault.

Sincerely,
your youngest sister.

Tipsy.

She pulls over next to an SUV and muffled to herself how people should invest in small cars and how she will buy herself a cruiser and how unfair she is to think that other people should invest in small cars when she's planning on investing in a huge ass off-road car herself. She smiles at the thought and shut the car door close.

It was a cold night. She thanked her past self for deciding to wear a cardigan as she sits at the booth. A small man walked up towards her and asked for her order. "Uhm, two bottles of SMB. The flavored ones? The one they showed in commercials? Do you have that? Like they have lemon and apple flavors. Do you have that?" She mentally rolled her eyes at herself by saying that.

You sound like a fucking newbie at this whole drinking stuff.

Well it's the first time I'm drinking alone.

That doesn't count you idiot. Gosh why are you so uncool.

She sighs at herself as the small man walked away with her order. "Kuya! Can you add an order of french fries as well? Thanks!" She settled down and breathed in her surrounding. 

She was listening to the woman who was singing an Adele song on stage and was mortified at the amount of veins showing up on her neck as she struggles to reach the high-pitched note. The woman didn't have to try too hard, unless maybe that was her job. Looking at the woman on stage, she thought of how it might be to have a passion as your job. She liked singing. She thought she's pretty good at it. She was almost too confident about singing that she decided to dial in numbers to an Alicia Keys song she likes to sing. She was about to stand up when the small man caught her attention.

"Ma'am we don't have the apple and lemon flavors anymore."

"Uhm, that's okay. I'll just take the premium then."

"Okay, Ma'am. Would that be all?"

"And add some iced tea. I don't really like beer."

The small man left and she sat there puzzled. She wondered why she went to a local bar that she thought was tacky, why she told the gas boy at the gas station to just charge it to her mom's account when she was longing for independence, why she settled for a course that was "practical," why she had to fix herself up every morning when she keeps telling other people that she doesn't care about how she looks, and how she ordered not just one but two bottles of horrible liquid that tastes like plastic.

Before her mind could come up with a valid excuse, the small man walked towards her with her order. In panic she might think again, she automatically pours herself a beer in one glass and mixed it with the iced tea. She sipped a little and smiled at what she has made. She was proud of how she was able to turn something horrid to something zesty and pleasing to the tongue. Now if only she could do that kind of wonder on rational living things.

She finished one platter of french fries, two glasses of iced tea, and two bottles of premium beer. She reminded herself of her alcohol tolerance by asking the small man for her bill. As she sat there waiting, she noticed two guys at a distance talking to a girl who was wearing an outfit that was asking for it. 

"I can see your bullshit from here." She said to herself. 

"I've taken up too much bullshit. I'm credible enough to be a walking bullshit detector."

She looked away at that image. That was her natural reflex. She looks away at things she doesn't like to see. It's like keeping your friends close and telling your enemies to fuck off because you're hanging out with your friends and it's not all about strategies.

A random guy sat at her booth and asked for her name. She was too tipsy to put up a polite front so she didn't respond. He asked him if she wants to join him and his friends at the other table since she was just alone and maybe needed some company.

Can't. Busy filing people under "Fuck this Shit."

"No, thanks. I'm about to go. I'm just waiting for my bill." She responded.

The man persisted but she wasn't really up for company, plus she was tipsy. The probability of her cussing at strangers was too high to risk it.

An ambulance then passed by with its siren so loud most people in their booths looked outside. Death. People are dying as of this moment and look at what I'm doing. She leaned on her right arm and tried to calm her palpitating heart which was the result of the alcohol. She felt like vomiting. She felt like smoking one stick but she promised herself she'll quit. She felt like she herself was dying.

The small man arrived at her booth. She paid for her bill and left. She looked at the guy who sat at her booth, smiled, and waved. She was at least grateful for the guy. For all she knows, if she said yes she would be expanding her social circle which her friends told her she needs. But no. She doesn't need another temporary thing in her life. At least not at the moment.

She sat there at the driver's seat and waited for something to happen. She was waiting to cry but nothing came out. She felt empty, which was much worse. There was a haunted house in her veins she longed for years to demolish.

Her thoughts came to a person. She couldn't dismiss it. It was like an untamed kiss shoved down her throat. But there are people you can't even allow yourself to think about, so she shut her eyes and massaged her head.

Don't feel so bad, lots of people are awful. Free the people you have trapped inside your heart.

She breathed a heavy sigh. Oh, Rhea. You sentimental motherfucker. She told herself.

She drove off, went home, and decided to open her computer. She couldn't pass this chance to tweet about being tipsy with actual relevance. There were tons of words bouncing around her brain which she respectfully credited to the alcohol that is now in her system. So she decided to blog.

Maybe one day her head will be clear again.

Maybe one day she'll come to her senses.

But today is not that day.

Call Center Virgin.

Ahh, the big "E." The phase you submissively kissed ass for. The whole intent and purpose of the eighteen or more years spent skimming, cramming, and procrastinating. Some people look forward to it as if it's the answer to their financial independence. Some avoid it, thus the masters and doctorate degree-- just another way to prolong pre-employment.

So what's up? Well, just to let you know that I am making this post at exactly 1:28AM. Why? Because I'm still awake. Why? Because my body clock's broken. Why? Because I am EMPLOYED.

Yes my co-netizens. I. AM. EMPLOYED. Not to put out much emphasis but it's a pretty big deal.

It has been going on for a week now and I already think it's a hell hole. Not generally pertaining to employment but to my job particularly. You see, I'm a verifications specialist at some call center downtown. What I do is that I verify all the sales that the sales people put through. As our british boss explains it, it's like having a bag of Reeses fall to the ground and what we do is we pick out the good ones and put them in the bag and just leave the bad ones.

Easy, right? But the catch is, these bag of Reeses were not just simply put in the bag. They're first called by the sales people, talk their way into the Reeses' interest, spend fifteen minutes building rapport, and after minutes of convincing and information pulling, they are finally put in the bag. This is the part where I come in and drop the whole damn bag to the ground and get it sorted.

To be honest, I don't even have the right to complain. My job's easy compared to that of the sales people. As a matter of fact, my introduction in the script goes like "Hi you're through to Daisy and my job is easy." Well, at least based on procedures.

Among the three of us in the Verifications Team, I think I have it rough. You see I'm the only one without work experience and the training period was over with just a blink of an eye because my colleagues were all rehires. I was pressured to adjust twice than them although they make good company.

That's one good thing about employment. New people, new friends-- and the deal with Call Center people is that they're all laid back. I'm finding it easy to adjust because of the very supportive people that works their asses off together. I love how they're all understanding of me being a newbie and how I sometimes need to fail their sales because of unfulfilled requirements (except for Chris who can't get off my D for failing two of his sales). 

Aside from all the Reeses-picking and Chris-avoiding, I'm doing great at my job although I still find it mundane and boring. But I guess that's just the thing. Finding enjoyment in the boring routine society calls "Employment."

Complexes

You remember that text message you received from a friend who likes to forward chain messages that tells you a conversational modern parable about how life is simple and that it's only a matter of perspective?

Well, here's the thing. Nothing is ever simple no matter what perspective. Unless you're a kid forever, which is awesome and which we also know is impossible. We can never deny the fact that we're growing old and the more years we consume, the more we are aware of the complexes.

It sucks. I know. Because I deal with it too. Don't we all?

 FAMILY

Being the youngest with three brothers and a sister gave me nothing but passed-on chores and nineteen years of complete inferiority. The funny thing is, I thought differently years ago.

You see, I always thought that adults cannot sin. I used to have this belief that a child is a dumpster full of immorality and when a child reaches adulthood via education, they will be cleansed of that immorality. Oh God was I extremely wrong.

From my 'Okay, ate' 'Okay, kuya' 'I love you, ma' 'I love you, pa' came 'Samoka oy!' 'Magbuot man?' 'Ikaw diay? Pungkol ka?'

I know, I know. Maybe you're thinking-- "My God, what has this child become of?" but let me tell you, my family aren't that bad on the 'monstrosity' department themselves. Something I observed through the years of my journey to adulthood via education. 

Take note that this is not to bash them for your entertainment. It's for you to get where I'm coming from and also for you to maybe reflect on something ideal somewhere in this article-- if ever you can find any which I'm sure you will.

XXX - Here's my mom. She has this usual rags-to-riches type of stories she gladly shares every time I ask for money or receive a bunch.

Who would ever forget that story about the adventure our parents experienced traveling to school? The huge distance walked on foot through the mountains, rivers, seas, crocodiles, bridge trolls, and cyclops, unbelievably making it before the flag ceremony. It's so cliche I would blink three consecutive times.

She also never fails to make me feel like I'm a burden. Some would have their ways but hers is direct-- orally direct.

YYY - My dad's a pushover and obviously the one who's under the saya. He's a fun-loving and time-allotting type of papa when you're around three to five years old. Pass that point and he won't care anymore. He'll forget your birthday, your grade level, and hell, even your name!

AA - The eldest of the bunch. Dominant, strict, has anger issues, and all-around cocky. The favorite.

BB - The black-sheep.

CC - The obedient daughter who does everything mom says and is the embodiment of the 'dalagang Filipina.' The demure, honorable, and smart type who regretted for being so in the later almost-30's of her unmarried, still-has-ties with her parent's life.

DD - The other black-sheep.

ME - Everything my mom wanted, but the complete opposite. Loud, free, gets my way, academically and extracurricular-y active, agnostic, has liberal opinions as opposed to her conservative Philippine-mainstream perspective.

 FRIENDS

It's hard to keep up with a ton of friends. I'm surprised I even have that many. You see, the deal with 'barkadas' is the concept of having maybe two or three people which suddenly grows to almost fifty because of 'mutual friends'

The complex part of this is the pretend game you play around your circle. To pretend to actually give a damn, to pretend you're concerned, to pretend you know them all well enough only to have this awkward silence when it's only the two of you left in the room.

What I'm trying to say is that there's no knowing who's real or not. I suggest you go for the people who was there for you and maybe put in a little effort to be there for them too. 

 RELATIONSHIPS

Ahh, the famous four-letter word-- 'love' which ranks its fame only second to the also four-letter word-- 'fuck'

Let me tell you beforehand: I am not good with relationships and if there is anyone who needs to have a say on this I would be last on the list. I'll give you my bit on this but don't put in a hundred percent of your trust in it.

As it turns out, it's not the simple exclusively dating -> official couple -> engagement -> marriage -> sex -> family process. Thanks to societal development of women equality and teens making it a big deal to be single at the point of desperation, there are now 'in-between's of this so-called simple process. You know what, it doesn't even follow that order anymore. Throw those arrows away for everyone's confused mind's sake.

I don't know if I made any sense at all nor If I was consistent. Those were always luxuries I cannot afford. But let me just get one thing straight: Life is not simple nor will it ever be. It is complex and I love the complexity. I love the confusion, I love the 'huh?'s, I love the wrinkled skin between my eyebrows whenever something or someone comes up with a philosophical meaning of life that is so insane it actually makes sense...

Or maybe life IS simple. Simple as to live, laugh, love-- Naw. It's not. I'm just messing with you.

Sequels

Relationships are like movies. Those with vague endings would usually have sequels.

Some relationships have sequels for the hope of prolonging "way back when"s or maybe with the unconscious intention of ending things right.

Jimbelle Ha, a friend of mine, was a believer of fairy tales. In a place where 'chinitas' are praised, she had to go through a lot of frogs until finally meeting her prince who deems fit of the chinita counterpart image. 

Bon Kervee Estimada, also highly praised for his Asian eyes, arrived one day to sweep off this hybrid's feet. No more frogs to deal with. Only this hardworking, God-fearing, guitar-playing, good-looking, basketball jock-- so unrealistic you'd mistake him for a fictional character, but as cliche as this goes-- nobody's perfect.

Everyone was a witness to their bond. Her being the sweetest, hardworking, beautiful, shy-type of girl any guy would go for, pledged her loyalty to this one and only guy which we are die hard witnesses of.

It started off rough and then bloomed to something stable. She was in junior high and he our senior. It was when the school year has come to an end that we assumed, like any other relationships, that what they have was also graduating along with him which they came to prove wrong.

The relationship became stronger, unbreakable even-- or so we thought.

Another year has ended and finally they are to close the miles that are laid between them by the educational system. Of course, like any other good student with morals, Jimbelle set her priorities straight and opted for a business school instead of the med school that Bon regularly attends. 

Everything went smooth and quiet. One's existence is always accompanied by the other. You'd rarely see them without each other and if you do, you'd usually greet them with a "Nasaan si Bon?," "Nasaan si Jimbelle?" type of Qs-- it's so frequent that it's considered a norm.

Everything was doing great until a tragedy has come into being. The Ha family business went haywire and was doomed to bankruptcy. Everything was so sudden they weren't able to financially prepare for the damages it left. In order to compensate for the loss, her father decided to go back to Korea in order to start again from scrap which then skipped from bad to worst when they found out he has terminal cancer.

The Ha family was planning to migrate to Korea and planned to stay there permanently which was not good news for Bon and Jimbelle yet they managed to get through the following months with this nearby migration in tact. Bon is a reasonable person, but not close to sentimental. As Jimbelle and her mom, Tita Ramelda, tried to fix all that is needed for the migration as soon as the second semester starts the more Bon was oblivious of the possibility that this migration might pull off. Like any other Filipino, Bon knew having to migrate takes years and dismissed the thought of the possibility of her migrating.

Again, Bon is a reasonable person, but not close to sentimental.

Months came to weeks and the alleged deadline was close. Bon, confident of his theory, continued to dust-off stress through companionship with his "bros." Meanwhile, Jimbelle was pissed off at the thought of him not even pressured for the deadline coming to close. At this point, I was also convinced of Bon's theory but was not much of a fan of his chivalry. Vague or not he should have been there for her because the possibility of her leaving was present and his theory, though solid, can also fail.

I was a witness to her emotional instability. To ask Bon to not hang-out with his friends seems overly attached, but to ask of her 'possible' remaining weeks to be spent with him is not something that should be deprived by a boyfriend.

It was a rough road for both of them as their fights became frequent and almost like a routine. Attempted breakups, sleepless nights, shouts over the phones, and pillows wet from tears.

Days or weeks maybe, after the alleged deadline, a grief-stricken news, though expected, came to the Ha residence. The cancer got to her dad and soon, the residence was filled with friends and family. Bon's family was also there and soon everyone was gathered to mourn for the Ha family.

Weeks after the incident, Jimbelle has become close to our circle. She was always a part of it but was never really a casual member since she lived off the past few years with a commitment and a strict parent. It was good for us since she's starting to at least smile and finally gets to hang-out with us. Her father's death was the birth of her freedom, something any daughter would half-heartedly appreciate.

As the weeks gone by, Bon and Jimbelle's relationship has gone completely unorganized until one night, they decided to cool it off. Both of them were in each other's necks and decided that a little air would be nice.

Not much to our expectation that this 'little air' would cause a whirlwind of dramatic events.

There was an alleged third party. Jimbelle, having to hear this constantly from trusted sources and other friends jumped to a theoretical conclusion that maybe there is something going on between him and this alleged third party. Bon denied this 'something' and defended his statement with "we're just friends"

She tried to understood the situation and kept things in tact trying to not destroy the whole trust system between them but would have occasional breakdowns thinking about the 'what ifs'. He took the best years of her life and the pain that she, at that time, felt, was immeasurable.

Push came to shove until finally she gets to witness the betrayal herself and reassured the reality of the situation by slapping him so hard the third-party hyperventilated. It was bravery, we were at loss for words, we didn't know she had it in her. A shy-type girl from Panabo storming out of a half-running cab then finally slapping the man whom she entrusted her loyalty for years seemed like a teleserye scene.

A lot of friends wooed her and she somehow felt powerful, very powerful that it compensated for the pain she felt.

Most people believed that she was a changed woman-- far more powerful than she has ever been. I also wanted to believe that. That she was genuinely okay, but somehow I felt that she wasn't.

When she slapped him on the face it wasn't just Bon she was slapping, she was also slapping the three years she wasted, the trust they both established, the cage that he unconsciously put her in-- for him it was a turning point, a sudden realization of what he lacked, the possibility of her leaving him, and the pain he has put her through.

I knew she still loved him even though how many times she tried to laugh at every joke or no matter how many times she was asked. It was painful having to see her that way because it was like that for me as well. Telling people I was okay and maybe convince them and also myself that I really was.

After everything had boiled down, Jimbelle stopped telling recent happenings which she told me months after. Bon tried to win her back, to get her back, and he was very desperate. Jimbelle, with a help of a certain rebound, stood by her ideal that she was okay and Bon should leave her alone. Bon was persistent, until he was convinced that his absence would be her happiness-- so he left, but not completely.

In all desparation, Bon would contact Jimbelle's close friends, including me, for updates about her. Knowing how she was doing, telling me how he regretted all of it, how he could have stopped things and even try to play fate by knowing where she is from a recent source then go somewhere near that place and pretend as if it was a 'coincident'.

Bon, with no more hope left, finally gave up and left completely.

Jimbelle was trying to put her life back into place where she left it three years ago. She was doing good and soon she admitted of still having feelings for him which somehow I was much aware of without her having to tell me. I told her reasons to weigh into, I told her that Bon shouldn't be judged by one mistake over the things he did right through the duration of their relationship, but boy-- he sure did mess up.

The whole trust system was broken and so were they. Fear was consuming her heart.

I didn't tell her to get back with Bon because I wanted her to, nor did I tell her to move on because I wanted her to, but because I want her to make her own choices. A choice that she won't regret and a choice that would make her happy. I told her to get back with him because I though that if that's what makes her happy then we'll be okay with it. I told her to move on because if her heart can't take it anymore then maybe it's time to opt for a larger happiness. If she makes the wrong decision then fine, lesson learned, but we will never judge her for it nor do we have the right to.

Their communication's back up and both of them have priorities to fulfill, both of which are last on each other's lists, at least that's what they show each other. Both trying to fight for the upper hand.

Whatever sequel might follow your movie, always know that I'll always love you, Bellers. You never left my back even though I never asked for it. I just want you to know that you're not obligated to answer to anyone on whatever decision you make. In this journey, always know that I have your back even if you won't ask for it (VERY CHAR). I want you to be strong enough to finally stand on your own feet, which you are doing a great job by the way (MORE CHAR). I love you and always will.
-Rei, xoxo

Time

We live in a fast-paced society where a college student’s full course meal comes in three-minute instant noodle cups and thirty-minute fast food deliveries. But there are instances that time moves slow in our fast-moving society, like a bored student sitting in class listening to random rants about math.

Fast-paced, three-minute, three days—It used to be just day and night but now it comes down to the microsecond. Time in its vagueness has been inclined to measurement in definition and idea. I think that because of this general thought that society has absorbed as a mind set, people as they are tend to think of time as inclined to life spans and as means of measuring individuals.

We retort to sayings such as “Life is short,” “Patience is a virtue,” “YOLO”—all supposedly intended to explain time’s worth during our bodily state in the least possible number of words. For us practical men, time is something to be consumed in order to gain more. I think that people are so obsessed with their bodily state that they keep on wanting extensions. The reason why people cram, study, work, and other daily activities is to live more. Work hard for today to ensure tomorrow then do the same the next day. It forms a sort of cycle which sometimes eludes us from what we really want to do—a sort of “time pressure.”

This “time pressure” deceives and eludes us into thinking that we have this kind of limit. A state of mind boundary that gives us a feeling that everything in this world has an ending and there is an involuntary thought counting to the greatest number possible and what we do is we think by the numbers. For example, a student studying in the campus library in preparation of an exam an hour before, let’s say, 1:30pm as scheduled. It makes the student think of how much he has left and how much more he needs to learn with accordance to a limit.

If viewed in a bigger picture, man focuses too much on endings that they would rather live for tomorrow than live today. Life is perceived in a limited time frame where the present is made for a beautiful ending but I, like most of us maybe, would rather prefer the latter. We are so consumed in the thought of being limited that we value time in its essence thus precedes to our conscious actions and steps as if everything was scheduled in a manner and each microsecond has its appointment.

There are some that are blind from this state of “limitation” and does not carry any thought at all. Maybe, the reason why they don't is that they like to think that time is something that is not to be consumed but to be treasured and because of that certain action we live for the moment. Now back to the accountancy student. Let's say that instead of cramming the deal out of his remaining hour he instead selected other numerous applicable books. If you think of it, he's not that prepared for his accounting exam but has learned a great deal of other relevant things. Instead of focusing to the 1:30pm limit, the student instead gave justice to the well-spent hour. Was it worth it that he came unprepared for the exam? If his goal was to learn then yes it was worth it.

Time also affects our mind set in defining people. Age in general can tell most of who and what a person is or maybe perceived as what he is supposed to be in the society. Educational level is also proportionate to the length of time you have consumed. It also labels you on where you are supposed to be with correspondence to your age. There are some that redefines the whole age and educational level’s proportionality by being termed “advanced” or a “late bloomer”, but in general, age and educational level is commonly friends of the same feather. Sometimes I think this sort of grouping is somehow ineffective. Maybe instead of grouping students by age or year level, we group them according to ability. The idea that just because the student is fifteen years old they’re ready for trigonometry is weird and I think no other part of human society groups themselves this way because it artificially slows down the best of the brightest.

Age is also inevitable with experience. Not in specific numbers but within different range in such a way that society developed classifications or life phases such as “childhood,” “teenage,” “young adulthood,” “midlife,” “elder hood,” and so on. As a child you are defined as naive and ignorant of all things big and relevant while teenage is a rebellious phase with raging hormones cursing whatever the system implements.

Every phase you are expected to do things and are defined by it, where of course age is essential in order to categorize one self under the classifications. Because of being categorized in a phase, you are limited to what you are allowed to do. When you are a child your parents get to choose for you, like in a grocery store when you do the walk of shame after your mom said no. That is because they are absorbed to the thought of your ignorance thus thinking that you are unable to decide for yourself. It somehow measures your knowledge on academics in particular. It gives you an overview what to learn on what specific age. It is altogether biased in a systematic way.

What if time never existed? What then? Would we stop degenerating? Would everything suddenly freeze like the one they show on televisions? Or we continue living but without the numbers? In a scientific perspective, according to Frederick Turner:

|”We can actually study situations where time almost doesn’t exist.  In the tiny and always minutely brief world of quantum mechanics there is so little time that identity and location do indeed lose a good deal of their clarity and indeed their distinction from one another: a particle can exist in a state of superposition, in which two different things are true of the same object, and it can exist very tenuously in two places at once.  But for objects with more solidity and persistence, time is necessary not just tautologically for them to exist “in” but also as a way of resolving paradoxes of being and location.  Another place where time almost doesn’t exist is in black holes, where it is only their slow leakage and eventual unlocking that prevents paradoxes such as that information can be destroyed (a contradiction of identity) and that two things can be in the same place (black holes can be almost infinitely dense with matter).”

Frederick Turner believes in the thought that time makes sure everything doesn't happen at once and that the universe does not allow two states of the same object occupy exactly the same state and place because the principle of identity is violated and thus major problems may arise.

“In a universe of pure space, without time, the laws of science could not exist because identity and location could not be reliably established.”

Reading his phrase I thought that the relation between time and us human beings is a two way-process. Time defines us and gives us a sort of identity which is the fundamental basis of the laws of science. Without it, our identity and everything about what we thought was solid and true cannot really be created. But how about our existence? Can time have the superficial power of eradicating mankind?

I honestly cannot tell yet, nor any of you can. But as the physicist Arthur Eddington put it, the universe is not so much like a vast machine as like a vast thought. And Time is the milieu of that thought.

A macroeconomic requirement

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Let's face it. Nobody likes a party killer. Especially when it's in the form of tropical storms.

When it started to rain non-stop I was hoping for classes to cancel. But then on the third day, fear started to kick in. I begged God to not let it be like the last time with Pablo. Mindanao has not even recovered yet.

What was the deal with Pablo anyway? If you come to think of it, Pablo brought strong winds and only mild rain. Local people blame it on the mining industry that was common in most of the high areas affected but I think the tragedy was avoidable if people were prepared. Lack of preparation brought hundreds to death and a few more hundreds missing. I can't blame the local government though. Mindanao is usually a storm-free place where floods are only ankle-deep and storms are left ignored to pass-- well, at least it used to be.

My friends and I went to Compostela Valley Province to lend our help to the unfortunate people greatly affected by the storm. A friend of mine, Christelle, are inclined to the oil business. "People are going to have to settle with your coconut oil for days to come" I told her as we went through a vast area of destroyed palm trees. It was hard to not pass that thought even though it was unnecessary to think of business boosts when faced with people walking on roads with problems of shelter, food, and clothing. 

The palm trees were just a minuscule problem compared to the mining industry that has been suppressed with claims and accusations. Their mere existence has been an enough bother to the public with environmental concerns and God knows how much the government has regulated their operations to compensate for the greater loss from their production. The accusations and claims are the last thing they want to have right now.

The problem with people nowadays is that they do not want to take responsibility for anything and when push comes to shove, names are told and fingers are pointed. The only thing we can do now is stop the complaints and move on for our own welfare.