"Those who can, do; those who can't teach. Like most sayings, this is only half true. Those who can, teach; those who can't -- the bitter, the misguided, the failure from other fields -- find in the school system an excuse or a refuge." - Bel Kaufman, UP THE DOWN STAIRCASE
This wasn't her dream, yet it came true. She never thought of becoming a teacher, yet she is one now and has been for years.
Her long lost friends, plus some fair-weather ones, and her former classmates might drop their jaws in disbelief if they found out that she is now connected with the academe, with their former alma mater to be exact. They probably couldn't imagine her encased in four walls with a stick in hand and hair in a tight bun. She just wasn't the type to waste her time erasing the blank stares of students and cajoling them to mouth more than monosyllabic responses to thought-provoking questions. Nor was she the type, as the cliche goes, to mold young people's minds, the way a potter molds clay. She wasn't even known for patience in high school and in college. Having tantrums when Plan A didn't push through, blowing her top when a group member forgot her I.Q. on her pillow, and throwing writing instruments at whomever she thought deserved it were what she had been known for. Hardly the qualities one expected from a member of the most noble of all professions.
How did she end up a teacher anyway?
She isn't sure exactly how it happened. She used to write copy for an ad agency but couldn't take her boss' breathing down her neck every time there's a deadline or being surrounded by creative but weird cigarette-smoking and foul-mouthed creatures of the advertising world. She had to quit before she wound up in a looney bin.
The teaching job landed on her lap by pure chance. Feeling low one April morning, she decided to pay her old college a visit. Her Chair was there, and discussion turned to careers. Learning of her disenchantment, her Chair popped the invitation for her to teach. She wasn't given a chance to reject the tempting invitation because schedules for demo teaching were shoved in her hand. She could only acquiesce and ponder her luck.
Her intellectual capacity and ability were challenged once again. They stopped when she got no welcoming committee in the real world. Now, her mind went into its previous analytic mode, with a green light all the way. She hungered for knowledge and was eager to apply it in her new world as a professional. She devoured great heaps of information, gobbled huge amounts of data, including trivia from the works of the learned, and swallowed everything her mind could take in.
Her first day of teaching was quite memorable. She didn't quite know how to establish rapport with the freshmen, but she found herself blurting out, "You may not call me MOM because I am not your mother. You may not call me MUM because I am not a deodorant. But you may call me MA'AM." It wasn't her intention to come up with her version of the Ten Commandments but she said: "ONE, you are not allowed to sleep in class. Neither dreaming nor snoring is allowed. Failure to keep this commandment would mean a trip to the washroom and back. TWO, you have no right to remain silent...when asked to recite or report in class. Anything you say can and will affect your grade. THREE, you may raise any questions regarding the subject matter to clear any cobwebs you may have in your brains...assuming that you have one." Mixed reactions -- amusement, apprehension, apathy -- followed her pronouncements.
Her love for Bel Kaufman's book Up The Down Staircase should've jarred her into the realization that she would become an English teacher. Sam Levinson commented that the book was the kind of funny that hurts, referring to the book's satirical undertones. That comment hit her too. Her students considered her a funny teacher, and it hurt to teach English.
Teaching English as a second language is no ordinary task. Being a freshman in the profession, she assumed a lot. She assumed that her students knew simple subject and verb agreement -- I am, You are, He/She/It is, You/We/They are.
She assumed that they knew the difference between a phrase (Macaulay Culkin in "Home Alone") and a clause (who was the child actor in the movie "Home Alone") or why a fragment (Macaulay Culkin in "Home Alone") is not a sentence (Macaulay Culkin played the lead in the movie "Home Alone.") She was wrong. She assumed too much.
The results of her students' quizzes and exams confounded her. Why did a third if not half of the class sometimes fail? Had she not explained everything clearly? Did she not always ask them if they understood, and say that she would not think them stupid if things weren't clear? She could not always accept the fact that the reason was the "teacher factor." She once gave them items for a quiz which they reviewed and encountered again in the periodical test. Why did they still write the incorrect answers?
Although she felt that she lacked the qualities of a perfect English teacher, her students believed in her, respected her, and even liked her. Evidence, grammatical errors included, made her want to cry in frustration as well as in amusement.
- "YOUR cool and friendly. I like YOU'RE approach to us."
- "You make your lessons VERY UNDERSTANDING."
- "The only thing I can say is that you're cute."
- "Having a smiling face MAKE us feel calm."
- "You are not a bookish type of teacher. I hope this will be continued not like other teachers who concentrate THERE lessons in the book."
- "One good reason was the humor...as if YOUR the life of the subject."
- "I like the way you speak because YOU'RE voice is like a baby or a cat."
- "I thought you were just a student the first time I saw you. I was SUPRISE to know that you're our English teacher. But you sound as if you've been teaching for years."
- "I can't criticize you because so far, you're one of the best teachers we've had this sem."
- "There is only one thing that I don't understand. Why are you still single?"
Her first journey into the real world of education as an educator wasn't exactly a bed of roses. A thorn sometimes protruded here and there. Yet some rosebuds had bloomed too.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Monday, December 19, 2005
A Message Board Is A Place :
1) where you can have fun with friends (or make war with fiends), engage in pseudo-intellectual talks with geeks and freaks, and be nasty with flips and drips;
2) where you can unwind, do a rewind, come forward, play around, pause for a while and stop (Hey there, what's that sound? Everybody look what's going down.) … before you contract Carpal Tunnel Syndrome;
3) where you can be honest and let your guard down or play around with your guard up; (Guards on the side will be waiting in the wings though.)
4) where you can snag a temporary boyfriend/girlfriend while your real significant other's attention is somewhere else;
5) where you let loose of thoughts you probably won't be able to get away with in real life if you verbalize them.
2) where you can unwind, do a rewind, come forward, play around, pause for a while and stop (Hey there, what's that sound? Everybody look what's going down.) … before you contract Carpal Tunnel Syndrome;
3) where you can be honest and let your guard down or play around with your guard up; (Guards on the side will be waiting in the wings though.)
4) where you can snag a temporary boyfriend/girlfriend while your real significant other's attention is somewhere else;
5) where you let loose of thoughts you probably won't be able to get away with in real life if you verbalize them.
Patches of Insanity
The chickens are on fire! And the ceilings are laughing at me! Stop ittttttttt! I’m okay. I’m okay. Now, deep breathly. Shoot! I meant breathe deeply. Dang it! Reading five books one after the other and not finishing them in one sitting because of too much daydreaming is muddling my already muddled mind. A mental plunger – that’s what I need in order to get rid of this paranoiac gunk. But cheez whiz Louise, it’s like a mental leech that sucks all my cheers, grinds my tears, regurgitates my sneers and spews out jeers.
Why do I love alliterations that much? Because they prevent me from writing clichés, such as being in cloud nine … which I just did. Aaaaargh!
Go on. Keep ignoring me. I do have a strange way of showing it but … I just want you to like me. Haven’t you realized that by now? I may be losing some screws – although winning some would bring temporary ecstasy – but I’m serious. I mean this from the bottom of my feet. Really! With all my heart, my liver and my lungs. Slurrrp!
Writing is about getting something down, not about thinking something up. - I forgot who said this.
Why do I love alliterations that much? Because they prevent me from writing clichés, such as being in cloud nine … which I just did. Aaaaargh!
Go on. Keep ignoring me. I do have a strange way of showing it but … I just want you to like me. Haven’t you realized that by now? I may be losing some screws – although winning some would bring temporary ecstasy – but I’m serious. I mean this from the bottom of my feet. Really! With all my heart, my liver and my lungs. Slurrrp!
Writing is about getting something down, not about thinking something up. - I forgot who said this.
Ssh...
"If language were liquid, it would be rushing in. Instead here we are in a silence more eloquent than any word could ever be."
- "Language," Suzanne Vega
SILENCE stays in a corner. You don't realize it's been there staring at you for quite some time now. Without any warning, it grabs you by the shoulders and hurls you to the ground. You're bruised and bleeding.
You look up to meet its eyes and ask, "Why?" SILENCE ignores your question and kicks you in the face instead. You try to get up but SILENCE, this time, aims for your gut. You hug yourself and lie fetal position to protect yourself. You close your eyes and cry yourself to a dreamless sleep.
SILENCE retreats to a corner and smiles.
- "Language," Suzanne Vega
SILENCE stays in a corner. You don't realize it's been there staring at you for quite some time now. Without any warning, it grabs you by the shoulders and hurls you to the ground. You're bruised and bleeding.
You look up to meet its eyes and ask, "Why?" SILENCE ignores your question and kicks you in the face instead. You try to get up but SILENCE, this time, aims for your gut. You hug yourself and lie fetal position to protect yourself. You close your eyes and cry yourself to a dreamless sleep.
SILENCE retreats to a corner and smiles.
Para kay carabao_ english ang ABC story kong Taglish
ni arnivorous arnimal
Ang mamang kalabaw sa taas ay kaaararo lang
Bakit ba inaasar ako at saan po nagkulang?
Cute pa rin naman ako pero hindi na niya type
Dikdikin ko na nga lang para wala ng Grabeh hype.
Ewan ko kung ba't biglang nagkaganito kami
Fafa ko daw po siya dati na hindi mapakali.
Good news na rin at kami ay muling nag-uusap
Hindi ko nga lang alam kung mata niya'y kumikislap.
Idol ko po ang kalabaw na ito sa pagpapatawa
Jologs sa tingin ng marami pero sa aki'y naiiba.
Kulang daw ako sa pansin kaya siya ay hinahabol
Landiin ko ba naman hanggang mapilitang pumatol.
Memories namin ay tunay na katawa-tawa
Naghaharutan parati sa kung saan-saang hibla.
Okay naman kay BLISS dahil busy siya kay kiks
Playing on the field ako at doing it for weeks.
Quaint at strange ang feeling paggawa ng istoryang ito
Really mind-blowing daw po at makukulta ang isip mo.
Sana ay dumami ang mag-aambag ng istorya
Titingnan ko rin kung aabot sa Sabado de Gloria.
Uulitin ko pa rin po ang mga ganitong posting
Very, very persistent makasama mga praning.
Wala akong magawa at gusto kong matapos na
Xciting naman siguro kung ikaw ay nagbabasa.
Yo, tumatango ka ba bilang pag-sangayon?
Zee, natapos rin ang aking istorya sa ngayon.
Anak ng kuwagong puyat
Nakakahingal magsulat.
Ang mamang kalabaw sa taas ay kaaararo lang
Bakit ba inaasar ako at saan po nagkulang?
Cute pa rin naman ako pero hindi na niya type
Dikdikin ko na nga lang para wala ng Grabeh hype.
Ewan ko kung ba't biglang nagkaganito kami
Fafa ko daw po siya dati na hindi mapakali.
Good news na rin at kami ay muling nag-uusap
Hindi ko nga lang alam kung mata niya'y kumikislap.
Idol ko po ang kalabaw na ito sa pagpapatawa
Jologs sa tingin ng marami pero sa aki'y naiiba.
Kulang daw ako sa pansin kaya siya ay hinahabol
Landiin ko ba naman hanggang mapilitang pumatol.
Memories namin ay tunay na katawa-tawa
Naghaharutan parati sa kung saan-saang hibla.
Okay naman kay BLISS dahil busy siya kay kiks
Playing on the field ako at doing it for weeks.
Quaint at strange ang feeling paggawa ng istoryang ito
Really mind-blowing daw po at makukulta ang isip mo.
Sana ay dumami ang mag-aambag ng istorya
Titingnan ko rin kung aabot sa Sabado de Gloria.
Uulitin ko pa rin po ang mga ganitong posting
Very, very persistent makasama mga praning.
Wala akong magawa at gusto kong matapos na
Xciting naman siguro kung ikaw ay nagbabasa.
Yo, tumatango ka ba bilang pag-sangayon?
Zee, natapos rin ang aking istorya sa ngayon.
Anak ng kuwagong puyat
Nakakahingal magsulat.
Istoryang di ABAKADA
ni Ate arni na bruha
Ang thread na ito ay para sa mga creative.
Bagito man o batikan ay very receptive.
Charming o pa-cute posts ay puwedeng-puwede.
Dedmahin man ng iba ay hindi na bale.
Ewan ko ba kung bakit ang kulit namin.
Forward ko nga ito sa mga sipunin.
Gentle o gago ay very welcome dito.
Hubo man kung mag-post ay pipikit ako.
Inihaw o roasted man ang iyong feeling.
Join ka lang magnakaw kay gin_bulag ng saging.
'Kala n'yo siguro ay confident ako.
Limutin ko na lang ... mahiyain kamo.
Magsaya tayo sa pagkabuo ng tropa.
'Nak ng aso ko, pangalan ay Coca.
Oops, pasensiya na at ako'y nag-digress.
Para kasing feeling ko ay damsel in this dress ... at stressed.
Quid pro quo ay isang kasabihan
Rayuma ni BLISS aking naiintindihan.
Susme, nawala na po ang aking train of thought.
Tingnan n'yo at sumakay yata sa tren na buraot.
Uy, malapit na matapos ang aking "istorya."
Very incoherent nga lang, pahingi ng pasensiya.
Wala yata ang maggot na uod ng aking utak.
X-ray ang kailangan ng ulo kong may biyak.
Yesssss, patapos na ang post ko ngayon.
Zo, pakisampal lang please nang ako'y huminahon.
Magsulat na po ang mga sira ang ulo! Samahan n'yo ako at nalulungkot ako.
Ang thread na ito ay para sa mga creative.
Bagito man o batikan ay very receptive.
Charming o pa-cute posts ay puwedeng-puwede.
Dedmahin man ng iba ay hindi na bale.
Ewan ko ba kung bakit ang kulit namin.
Forward ko nga ito sa mga sipunin.
Gentle o gago ay very welcome dito.
Hubo man kung mag-post ay pipikit ako.
Inihaw o roasted man ang iyong feeling.
Join ka lang magnakaw kay gin_bulag ng saging.
'Kala n'yo siguro ay confident ako.
Limutin ko na lang ... mahiyain kamo.
Magsaya tayo sa pagkabuo ng tropa.
'Nak ng aso ko, pangalan ay Coca.
Oops, pasensiya na at ako'y nag-digress.
Para kasing feeling ko ay damsel in this dress ... at stressed.
Quid pro quo ay isang kasabihan
Rayuma ni BLISS aking naiintindihan.
Susme, nawala na po ang aking train of thought.
Tingnan n'yo at sumakay yata sa tren na buraot.
Uy, malapit na matapos ang aking "istorya."
Very incoherent nga lang, pahingi ng pasensiya.
Wala yata ang maggot na uod ng aking utak.
X-ray ang kailangan ng ulo kong may biyak.
Yesssss, patapos na ang post ko ngayon.
Zo, pakisampal lang please nang ako'y huminahon.
Magsulat na po ang mga sira ang ulo! Samahan n'yo ako at nalulungkot ako.
Rants from the Past II
Tsk-tsk, bad move A. You shouldn't be doing this. You promised yourself you're not returning his calls nor answering his letters ever again. So what gives? Why are you breaking your promise? No amount of extra-strength 3M scotch tape could make the broken promise whole again. Yeah right! That excuse again. What's that? Oh, it's the Christian thing to do. Tsk-tsk. You're such a softie. Don't you think you've been treated like a doormat for the nth time. He pops up every now and then, doesn't even ask forgiveness for that awful thing he proposed you both do years ago and acts as if everything's back to normal. Grow up, A! Oops, I'm sorry you can't do that anymore since you've reached your peak. Well, at least, open up your eyes, girl! Get a new pair of specs or contacts if you wish! Wake up!
That's my alter ego speaking, R. May be it hurts you to read it, but it's part of what I feel about you. I don't want to hide under anyone's skirt anymore other than my own. (Oops, make that pants. I hate skirts.) This time, I'm not dodging from my feelings. I want to meet them head on the way I did when we were still in college.
So what is this letter all about? It's not exactly something that'll make you feel good while in a strange land. Talk about adding insult to injury. Naah, not really. Consider this as an outpouring of pent-up emotions, a letter of clarification, a page from my diary perhaps? (Weren't you my diary back in college?)
Well, here goes nothing. I hope you'll drop all "pretenses" and tell me how you really feel after reading this.
I really liked you, you know. Of all the pen friends I had, you're the only one left. Our friendship has also been a part of my growing up years in college. You've also helped me during those times that I felt insecure about myself especially when most of my classmates were against me ... which was most of the time. I remember you writing and reacting to my credo "I humble myself by humiliating myself" ... short of doing a lobotomy on me yourself. You're one of my cushions during my college life. And I didn't even thank you by sharing with you the honors I've received.
Years passed by and we joined the world of the professionals. I thought you've totally forgotten about me. Who would've known we'd start going out together? And that's when everything started going haywire.
Maybe it was my fault. I assumed and presumed too much.
Maybe I should've asked right from the beginning what the real score was. Was it plain friendship or was it more than that? Did the hand calisthenics and the limited oral explorations confined around the face mean anything? Or didn't we just have nothing better to do or talk about then? Was it because of the night, the draft beer we drank or the pizza we ate?
I thought for a moment that there was something. I gave you hints, but I guess we weren't riding on the same wavelength. Maybe there were times that we shared the same frame of reference but you just weren't ready to widen your frame to overlap with mine. You were either silent, changed the topic or plain humiliated me. I hope you felt how confused I was then. Was I sending the wrong signals or couldn't I decipher yours correctly? And to think that we both have degrees in Communication.
Your recent card said, "I'm here for you." I'm sorry but I can't feel your presence. No matter how I try, I just can't feel it.
I thought for a moment that there was something. I guess, I'm wrong again. So, what else is new?
That's my alter ego speaking, R. May be it hurts you to read it, but it's part of what I feel about you. I don't want to hide under anyone's skirt anymore other than my own. (Oops, make that pants. I hate skirts.) This time, I'm not dodging from my feelings. I want to meet them head on the way I did when we were still in college.
So what is this letter all about? It's not exactly something that'll make you feel good while in a strange land. Talk about adding insult to injury. Naah, not really. Consider this as an outpouring of pent-up emotions, a letter of clarification, a page from my diary perhaps? (Weren't you my diary back in college?)
Well, here goes nothing. I hope you'll drop all "pretenses" and tell me how you really feel after reading this.
I really liked you, you know. Of all the pen friends I had, you're the only one left. Our friendship has also been a part of my growing up years in college. You've also helped me during those times that I felt insecure about myself especially when most of my classmates were against me ... which was most of the time. I remember you writing and reacting to my credo "I humble myself by humiliating myself" ... short of doing a lobotomy on me yourself. You're one of my cushions during my college life. And I didn't even thank you by sharing with you the honors I've received.
Years passed by and we joined the world of the professionals. I thought you've totally forgotten about me. Who would've known we'd start going out together? And that's when everything started going haywire.
Maybe it was my fault. I assumed and presumed too much.
Maybe I should've asked right from the beginning what the real score was. Was it plain friendship or was it more than that? Did the hand calisthenics and the limited oral explorations confined around the face mean anything? Or didn't we just have nothing better to do or talk about then? Was it because of the night, the draft beer we drank or the pizza we ate?
I thought for a moment that there was something. I gave you hints, but I guess we weren't riding on the same wavelength. Maybe there were times that we shared the same frame of reference but you just weren't ready to widen your frame to overlap with mine. You were either silent, changed the topic or plain humiliated me. I hope you felt how confused I was then. Was I sending the wrong signals or couldn't I decipher yours correctly? And to think that we both have degrees in Communication.
Your recent card said, "I'm here for you." I'm sorry but I can't feel your presence. No matter how I try, I just can't feel it.
I thought for a moment that there was something. I guess, I'm wrong again. So, what else is new?
Rants from the Past
My world has been calm for almost six months and here you are with a phone call to return call and a belated b-day card to rock my world. I'm tempted to scream "What do you want from me?" Haven't you humiliated me enough?" Pardon me for my stupidity but if that card was a peace offering (a "so-sorry letter" reminiscent of the one sent by FVR to Danielle Mitterand), I fail to see an apology even under that veneer.
Uh, was there a message to be read in between the serious message? Your literary effort has got me stumped, pal. Oops, did I write pal? Wouldn't the terms best buddy who's someone special be more apt? Touche'.
My background in Communication failed to prepare me in decoding messages resembling your recent creative genius. Aside from that, two things prevent me from deciphering your version of the Rosetta Stone:
1) It's impossible for me to lift myself;
2) I can never see beyond the horizons because I'm a myopic forever.
I could go on ranting and raving but I won't do that. I'll just pray for you like I do every night.
Good night. I wish you'd tell me what you want from me without hiding behind a cloud of words.
Uh, was there a message to be read in between the serious message? Your literary effort has got me stumped, pal. Oops, did I write pal? Wouldn't the terms best buddy who's someone special be more apt? Touche'.
My background in Communication failed to prepare me in decoding messages resembling your recent creative genius. Aside from that, two things prevent me from deciphering your version of the Rosetta Stone:
1) It's impossible for me to lift myself;
2) I can never see beyond the horizons because I'm a myopic forever.
I could go on ranting and raving but I won't do that. I'll just pray for you like I do every night.
Good night. I wish you'd tell me what you want from me without hiding behind a cloud of words.
Delivered to you
Nope, I haven't gotten tired of you. Nope, I haven't forgotten you. Nope, I haven't thought of ignoring you. I just had a lousy week at work and have been fighting a bout of bronchitis for days now. I called in sick today and went to my primary care physician to get antibiotics because gulping Sudafed tablets nor downing almost 1 and 1/2 bottles of Robitussin aren't helping me ease this terrible nose and chest congestion. If you call me right now, you probably would just waste your money because you wouldn't be able to understand my "ngongo" voice due to this darn congestion. Aaargh!
I apologize if you thought I misunderstood what you misunderstood. I don't want to go into details again but I'll just bury the hatchet and forget about where I buried it so I wouldn't be able to dig it up again if the mood strikes. Being a veteran of pen pal writing and now cyber-friendship with the dawn of the internet, I've learned the hard way not to dwell on hurtful words to preserve my self-esteem as well as the other party's self-esteem. (I wonder what my prof in Psychology would say about me now.)
So you like me. For some weird, unfathomable and unexplainable reason, I do like you too. Now wipe that stupid grin (again, your grin is stupid not you so don't think I'm insulting you) off your face and read on if you can still stomach this cyber-ramblings that are automatically and uncontrollably pouring out of my fingertips to be absorbed by the keyboard and sent via cyber-osmosis to you. Ahihihi. What the heck am I talking about about? My Critical Writing prof would probably rise from her grave and kick herself out of the coffin just to slap me for writing some pseudo-intellectual gobbledygook nonsense. Ahihihi.
Anyway, do I have anything to report to you during my cyber-absence from your inbox? What can I say except that I'VE BEEN ALONE SINCE FRIDAY AND WILL BE ALONE UNTIL X-MAS EVE. (Now, why am I shouting? Ahihihi. I think the meds I just took have a narcotic effect and I'm really high right now. ) All my relatives from the cities of Pinole, Vallejo, Stockton, Whittier and here in Hercules left last Friday for a 7-day cruise to the Caribbean and Puerto Rico. I didn't go for numerous reasons: (1) my boss won't let me since there are already two people going on vacation this week; (2) I have no more moolah for a vacation since I spent most of it last May in the Phils; (3) I don't like to go on vacations with my family. No kidding.
And may I repeat what I said a few paragraphs above. For some unfathomable and unexplainable reason, I do like you too. I think the fact that you're the most different of the ones who've befriended me is one thing that makes me spend writing a very rare kilometric epistle. Befriending you and learning about you through e-mail are unique experiences for me. Because if I were still my former stiff self (way back in college), I probably would be wary of people like you and wouldn't care about understanding what makes you tick. Being a teacher opened my mind to welcome different kinds of students and to seek out the needy, the ignored, the average, the problematic and the strange. Hmm...did I say unfathomable and unexplainable reason? I think I've just given you the reasons. Ahihihi.
I could end with "keep the faith," or "keep it real" but that wouldn't be too original. So let me just end with this ...
It is I .. no one to get excited about,
Arnivorous
I apologize if you thought I misunderstood what you misunderstood. I don't want to go into details again but I'll just bury the hatchet and forget about where I buried it so I wouldn't be able to dig it up again if the mood strikes. Being a veteran of pen pal writing and now cyber-friendship with the dawn of the internet, I've learned the hard way not to dwell on hurtful words to preserve my self-esteem as well as the other party's self-esteem. (I wonder what my prof in Psychology would say about me now.)
So you like me. For some weird, unfathomable and unexplainable reason, I do like you too. Now wipe that stupid grin (again, your grin is stupid not you so don't think I'm insulting you) off your face and read on if you can still stomach this cyber-ramblings that are automatically and uncontrollably pouring out of my fingertips to be absorbed by the keyboard and sent via cyber-osmosis to you. Ahihihi. What the heck am I talking about about? My Critical Writing prof would probably rise from her grave and kick herself out of the coffin just to slap me for writing some pseudo-intellectual gobbledygook nonsense. Ahihihi.
Anyway, do I have anything to report to you during my cyber-absence from your inbox? What can I say except that I'VE BEEN ALONE SINCE FRIDAY AND WILL BE ALONE UNTIL X-MAS EVE. (Now, why am I shouting? Ahihihi. I think the meds I just took have a narcotic effect and I'm really high right now. ) All my relatives from the cities of Pinole, Vallejo, Stockton, Whittier and here in Hercules left last Friday for a 7-day cruise to the Caribbean and Puerto Rico. I didn't go for numerous reasons: (1) my boss won't let me since there are already two people going on vacation this week; (2) I have no more moolah for a vacation since I spent most of it last May in the Phils; (3) I don't like to go on vacations with my family. No kidding.
And may I repeat what I said a few paragraphs above. For some unfathomable and unexplainable reason, I do like you too. I think the fact that you're the most different of the ones who've befriended me is one thing that makes me spend writing a very rare kilometric epistle. Befriending you and learning about you through e-mail are unique experiences for me. Because if I were still my former stiff self (way back in college), I probably would be wary of people like you and wouldn't care about understanding what makes you tick. Being a teacher opened my mind to welcome different kinds of students and to seek out the needy, the ignored, the average, the problematic and the strange. Hmm...did I say unfathomable and unexplainable reason? I think I've just given you the reasons. Ahihihi.
I could end with "keep the faith," or "keep it real" but that wouldn't be too original. So let me just end with this ...
It is I .. no one to get excited about,
Arnivorous
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