As we start the lecture after lunch, Ana Marie introduced an ice breaker game to all of us, Ecosim Participants, so as to ready ourselves for another dreary lecture. I forgot what it is called, but I’m pretty sure it came from a book called “Kokology”. It’s a book about psychological games... or... something like that... not really sure... Anyways, the ice breaker went around like this: (if you like you could also try it yourself! (^_^) )
1. On a blank sheet of paper, write your name in the middle
2. Put a square around your name
3. Then, put the name of people you know around your name. Try to fill the empty spaces with those names
4. Draw a horizontal line on the middle
5. Above the line, draw a circle on the first person you’ll see
6. Do the same for the people below the line; remember to encircle the first person you’ll see.
The results: the person encircled above the line is someone you respect, while on the bottom, is the one you are taking for granted. As for the explanation for the results, well, I really don’t understand but it has something to do with randomness. But, I was shocked by my results; the person I was taking for granted was no one else but my father.
Bothered
I went home Thursday evening. After greeting my mother and sister at the living room, I opened the door to greet and pay my respects to my father lying in bed inside their room. He was always like that ever since he got sick with tuberculosis. But his condition got worse when he changed his medicine, as prescribed by his doctor. I stood there, gazing at him, wondering how I was taking him for granted.
The Bus Conductor
While on my way home, I saw a child crying inside the bus. He was about 2-3 years old; he stopped crying when the bus conductor went to him. It was then I realized that this was his father. Since his father, has to collect the fares of all the passengers aboard, he has to leave his son on his seat located behind the driver’s. So, as he went around the bus and collected, the son wailed nonstop. I even saw blood on his mouth, probably a cut made by accident. (Probably an outcome of his struggle to stand on his seat to let his father have a glimpse of him whining but since we are moving he might have fell and then bit his lip). I was amazed by the son’s ability to continuously whine all throughout the time when his father was not near him. It was more likely that there were about 40 – 50 passengers inside. The bus conductor was nearly at the end of his rope, as he was almost done collecting, he shouted his son to shut up for he could not focus on his job. When he was done, he went to woo his son. And then, as I look at the son, he kind of reminded me of myself…
The Cry Baby
My mom always tells me stories of my childhood, and most of her stories will comprise of me being such a cry baby. I remembered when I was about 3 – 4 years old; my father brought my sister and me to visit a house that we will soon occupy. He needed to check the house before we move in, so he tagged us along so we could also check it out. Jeepneys going out of the subdivision are on the waiting shed. So, in order for people to ride they have to wait in line or if the jeepney is already there, they would have to wait inside for the jeepney to be full. With that in mind, my father left me and my sister to bring back the keys to the house curator. A few minutes had passed the driver started the engine, it was then that I wailed my heart out… crying for driver to wait for my father… It was at that moment that he came back to the vehicle and went home together… I, of course, no longer cried…
There were countless times that I would cry but my father will always be there to woo me… It was the moment I remembered when I saw the little boy crying in the bus… As I look away and stare the evening lights of Ortigas, I came into an affirmation that I was taking him for granted.
Tuberculosis
December 2008: my father was diagnosed with Tubercolosis. He was glad to hear that he had this sickness, he anticipated something more. I can tell he’s afraid of death; he already stopped smoking months before he was diagnosed. I felt there was something going on behind the act. But since this was all for his good, I supported his decision and even made follow ups if he really sticks into his new routine.
When he was confined in the hospital, this is where he started looking thin and rather old for his age. His head is thinning out of hair and his skin is dry. The typical tuberculosis sick guy you’ll see at most hospitals. But I wasn’t ready to see him that way; I can still remember him smiling at me when he fetched me at the airport coming home from our training… He gained weight at that time; he smiled with his teeth out and with his chubby cheeks, wearing sunglasses… I was so happy seeing him that way. I can tell he is happy with his physical turnout, he said he is into jogging and he was excited to go home into our province and climb on the top of the one of the mountains there. All throughout the ride, we were having an exchanged conversation about the places we’ve been through, snorkeling, swimming… etc… We had so many things to talk about; almost all my interests were from him, my love of animals, environment, geography, art, books, English, etc... How I missed those chats. Its not that he could no longer have conversation, it’s just that, he’s always on bed all day… Sleeping… He’s always not feeling well… I also don’t have the time, I usually come home late. When I get home he’s already asleep.
Also, problems with money started creeping in. The meds weren’t that cheap. I started whining again, this time it’s about money. I can’t make myself buy the things I need, the driving lessons, the digital camera, I have always wanted to buy…I have always seen money on my own point of view. I’ve always felt like I was a destitute, since elementary. I was always laughed at because I looked poor.
It was then that envy in me was born. I have then dreamed of getting rich. As I looked into fancy restaurants, glittering watches and cute things, I swore I would get hand of those things. Now that I have been working, I am unaware that I am satisfying the need of my envious little self…. Unaware that as I shout and complain, my father is inside in his room, maybe clinging into his pillow, hurting with what he is hearing…
Learning it the hard way
Haay.. It’s never easy for me to learn. My brain is not programmed to learn quickly. I always get the lessons the hard way. The bus conductor made me realize the lesson. I really don’t know what to do next but I plan not to be insensitive anymore. If I want something, maybe it would be best not to say it out loud.
And also, I have to resolve some things to myself, I have so many issues that I need to fix... It would be best not to hurt anyone with those. Especially my father. (T_T)
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