More, More, More!

I am so not getting the hang of managing a blog on my own.

There are spammers flooding my comment box virtually every minute and after reviewing a couple of pages in case there may be “real” comments, I got all dizzy and ended up deleting some comments of previous posts.  As such, I’ve decided to activate one of the plug-ins that leaves an error message when someone tries to comment on anything.  Just so the spamming stops.  See, being clever involves a bit of stupidity.

So ya, no one can actually leave a comment on any of my posts.  If you find yourself here and suddenly feel the urge to tell me how silly I am and that anyone half my age would be able to figure out this comment thing, I can be reached at twitter. 

And if you’re that smart, you’ll figure out what my twitter ID is. 

Tagged by Madam Marikit.

Only 8??  Here goes…I am grateful:

(1) when Eder sends me text messages at lunchtime during the workweek, even when I’m in another time zone, just to check if I’m about to have lunch.  I am reminded that someone cares (that I don’t starve myself).

(2) whenever I come home to see the laundry done, the clothes pressed, and the house in order (though not necessarily clean).  I am reminded that I share a home with somebody I love (who is not a slob).

(3) when I call my parents and they beat me to the “How are you?” question.  I am reminded that I can always count on them.

(4) when a friend confides in me about whether their new hairdo suits them or not.  I am reminded that there are people who care about what I think.

(5) when I ask a stranger for the time and they answer with a smile.  I am reminded that graciousness can go a long way.

(6) when I read about how some ordinary folks selflessly spend time with the less fortunate.  I am reminded that if they can do it, so can I.

(7) whenever I can spend an afternoon by myself doing whatever comes to mind (which would normally be surfing the net, reading, or catching up on some TV shows/movies).  I am reminded that being alone is not always a bad thing.

(8) that I have a blog to write whatever comes to mind (even though I don’t do so as much as I should).  I am reminded that I have a talent (somewhat).

OK, so that wasn’t too hard.

It’s been a while. A long, long, LONG, while.

Since the last entry, I have been here and there. Doing stuff here and there. Living life here and there. Yes, I’ve been kept busy but it’s the same busy that has kept me going all this time. I’d like to think I live an extraordinary life (don’t we all?) but really, it’s as ordinary as the next person’s. It’s how we spice up the mundane that makes it worth staying alive, ain’t it?

As the year closes in to welcome a brand new one, I feel compelled to run through my list of could’ves, would’ves and should’ves. But that would probably take a whole afternoon to write about. So I’ll spare myself (and anyone else who still pops in here) the agony.

I would, however, like to put down in print that I have seen the light. No, I was not involved in any near-death experiences — although with the amount of time I spend on aeroplanes, one might consider my lifestyle near-deathly (if there’s such a term). And no, not the one on the other side. And not the one at the end of a tunnel either.

It’s the light within me. Within us. The one that keeps on shining, well, most of the time.

And I see the same light in everyone else around me. Some appear brighter, and there are those that appear rather dim. Whether we like it or not, we’ve all been built in with a light. Or a lightbulb, whatever suits your fancy. Some choose to neglect it, some are hell-bent on glorifying theirs. I probably fall on the latter but I’ve come to realize that it’s there for a reason. It’s simple really. No light, no see. The brighter you are, the more visible things are.

Now, I believe that the life we lead controls the glare, or lack of it. If you’ve been described as a bundle of energy, your light’s probably really bright and glaring. Chances are, you probably need to replace your lightbulb ever so often. And if you’ve been called a dimwit, you probably need some replace it with a better one or better yet, have another one attached. My favorite of course, is when people say you’re glowing. That’s probably the nicest and sexiest kind of light.

Here are my thoughts on keeping your lights on. If it keeps flickering on and off, get it fixed. If it runs out of batteries, have it recharged. If others attempt to turn it off, stay away from them. Share your light with those who need them. Know where to spot your lights on, and know when to turn it away. And if you feel your light’s not good enough, get creative! Paint it, wrap it in colored paper, devise something that allows you to synchronize it with the songs on your iPod. Be proud of your light.

So with that, here’s to a bright and shining year ahead!

At the rate the world is moving, making sexist remarks would be rather passe, wouldn’t you think? Yet, there are some (and I am no exception) who take pleasure in making the odd comment or two about how the guys are better than the girls are at this and that and vice versa. Profesionally though, I prefer to steer clear of the topic.

The work I do involves getting holed up for many hours in eerie server rooms and being surrounded by people — a large percentage of them men — who thrive on geekspeak. I may not understand them half the time, but I get the job done. There have been instances where I’ve found myself — and my work — scrutinized by the people in this predominantly male-dominated industry but I shrug it off. I have to. I’d be nuts to go head to head with a group whose ability to spew out techie acronyms and expressions could literally make me go wildly dizzy.

At work earlier this afternoon, a tactless remark made by an insignificant someone threw me off guard. Something on the lines of, “That’s why there are more men in IT than women.”

What prompted this, you might ask.

While pounding away on one of the computers, I stopped abruptly and casually looked at how horrendously my two week-old nail polish was chipping away at the corners. Absentmindedly, asking no one in particular, I said, “Does anyone have nail polish remover?”

A question that could have easily been answered with a simple “Yes” or “No” or at best, simply ignored, was not to be. Instead, one of the two men in the room sneered, rolled his eyes, then blurted out what he did.

But I held my tongue. He wasn’t worth it. Just as I was about to get back to what I was doing despite the sight of my disgusting manicure, the other guy — my new hero — retorted, “The IT team in many good banks and financial institutions are women.”

Morale of the story: Don’t forget to pack nail polish remover.

I meant to provide updates since my luggage found its way back to my thankful arms.

But things haven’t gone as well as they should here and the long hours and late nights have given me nothing but headaches and eyebags. It’s been one problematic situation after another, first with my luggage and then with work, and I’m inclined to think that there’s some bad fengshui between Muscat and I.

Faced with all this bad-ass luck, it’s difficult to stay positive. But that’s where Eder comes in. Just when I was almost about to give up hope on ever seeing my luggage again, he comes up with, “Buti nga yung bag mo lang ang nawala, hindi ikaw.”

Despite staying in a gem of a hotel, the atrociously hot and unbelievably humid weather here hasn’t made me enjoy it much. And although the hotel staff are wonderfully warm and friendly (is it any wonder since many of them are Filipinos and Indonesians?!), the trauma of my once-lost-but-now-was-found luggage has left me scarred. It will pass, I’m certain, but not just yet I suppose.

I leave later this evening for Abu Dhabi where I hear the weather is twice as hot but less humid. I pray the project will not be as tough and of course, that my luggage arrives safely there with me. Pretty please?