I have lost count of the number of times I’ve lost my temper and become hissy at B. It’s not something I’m proud of and every time I am able to rationally look at the situation I get so ashamed of losing my temper and being hissy I wish the world would just open up and swallow me. At times I wish he never met me too coz he’d save himself a lot of pain if he and I were never together. I feel as though I am constantly struggling to be better or cool or be laid back and every time, I lose it.
My old mentor having noticed my anger management issues once pulled me aside and ask, “What do you gain when you lose your temper?” and I said “Nothing”. And I think he wanted to teach me something with that talk but it didn’t helped much. I was still as Nazi as I was the first time and I still give scathing sarcastic comments when I get aggravated. But lately I’ve come to realize that my answer wasn’t true at all. I don’t gain “nothing” when I lose my temper; I actually gain a lot of self-guilt, promote hate and mistrust, and worse of all I break apart every good thing from my relationships.
I wrote a few weeks ago how I try to work on my behavior first before I feel any feelings, and I tell you it’s HARD! Most times for me, feelings are fucking nuisance. I get offended with the slightest joke, irritated when things aren’t done the way it’s suppose to be done, and feel rejected when I don’t get attention. It’s sad really, and I worry at times he’d get fed up with my childish and evil ways he’d quit and just leave. And when that worry starts to gnaw my insides a part of me says “I wouldn’t be surprised if he did leave you.” Yeah, you can call me psycho.
But what I don’t write is when the tables have turned, when Bbecomes hissy and nothing I do or say makes him happy. It’s like he’s tired of sunshine and wants some male bonding time. When the slightest concern or question causes him irritation creases his forehead with a wrinkle and he gives tart replies. They are once in a blue moon days, but they do happen and when they do I look at him like a deer caught on headlights and I just want to make a run for it before he hits me or something. I’ve learned to watch for the signs (cussing out loud, banging the mouse on the desk, more cussing, a firmness in his voice tonality, still more cussing, and his face looks like a cop who caught me doing something illegal) and I’ve learned to take a deep breathe and let it roll. It’s nothing personal, it’s just the way things are in any relationship.
So now that I've come to face my shortcomings and correct my flaws, I've come to realize that it's not just changing one's self and being better but also accept the person for who they are and giving them the best even though we're treated poorly. In any relationship it's not just enough to say "I love you", we have to live it and work on it.
"Opinions are like testicles...
If you hit them hard enough it doesn't matter how many you've got."
~ Varric, DA II
So lately I’ve been spending a lot of time with my Xbox playing Dragon Age Origins, the expansion pack and Dragon Age II. I know that for some it was a lame way to use up most of summer but hey, whatever floats your boat.
Like any role-playing game (RPG), DA makes you choose a character and personality and you try to stick to it. You can romance your companions, sleep around non companions, be friends or rivals, push them away so they leave you, and ultimately after all the quests you get to the climax beat the bad guy and try to save the day. But then there are dialogues and gossiping among your companions. And those are the things that I actually look forward to in the game. Most of the time they fight amongst each other. But then they also spend a lot of time looking out for each other’s back. Silly as it may sound but I take it personally if one of my companions betray the team. And if you hurt ‘em, I’ll kick your butt.
Let me say though that I never expected to learn any life lessons from those games...
|Wynne taught me what leadership is about
|Alistair taught me the value of helping out family as well as looking out for myself
|Morrigan taught me that being a bit evil is not that bad
|Leilaina made me appreciate beautiful things
|Zevran has taught me second chances
|Sten made me realize that we must learn to be contented too
|Oghren has taught me to laugh from the belly
B thinks my game is slutty, I guess because of the romance options in the game. But that’s fine by me, because a good beer and a laugh makes the dragons worth killing in the end.
For so many years I've lived by myself. Having left my parents at an early age (because of my hard headedness) I have gotten used to paying my own bills, moving to different places, cooking meals for one, Christmases and birthdays alone. The loneliness over the years isn't something that goes away but over time I've learned to cope and if the sad carols I hear move me to tears I tell myself at least my family is still complete, we just can’t be together.
Despite my age though, there is still a little girl in me who wants to be taken care of by my parents. I know I can’t get it from them anymore and even then there was some sort of awkwardness between my parents and me. I love them but with them I have to be always strong, and smart, independent, and self-sufficient. And most times I get tired of being the woman they expect me to be. Most times, I just want to be plain old me.
So I suppose it’s a blessing living with my two older Filipino couple. They’re the parents of my landlord who offered that I move upstairs after a year and a half of discord with the Filipinas I used to live with. Initially I didn’t talk to them because I had a feeling that they have heard bad things about me and the hurt I felt from my previous room mates was still fresh in my heart. Eventually I started getting to know them. They generously offered food even beyond the usual “kain tayo, Dar”. And as weeks turned to months our bond became stronger, I eat with them, cook for them, clean house and do errands for them and they do the same for me. I became the daughter they never had and they became the parents I wish I have.
It’s going to be a year since I’ve first moved in with them in a couple of weeks. I feel that I’ve never lived with anyone else but them. Our loneliness living in Canada has drawn us to find companionship with each other. Perhaps in the near future I will move away from here and finally be with B. It’s not something I dwell on though, because as much as my heart is excited the sadness of separating from Nanay & Tatay pinches my heart.
A few days ago, I watched as my manager was about to get another pair of the least selling product to stock her area, and even before her gloved fingers touched it I told her not to get it explaining production is slow and I want to keep wastage to a minimum. She looked at me incredulously and in a joking manner retorted, “You control everything!” I grinned and said, “I know. If I didn’t you’d be fuming about our daily waste”. As I walked away her words still echo in my head. And instead of being angry I felt a confounded sense of validation to her statement. And this validation was met with a realization that my desire to always be in control which used to be my greatest strength has now turned against me.
In one my coaching sessions with my former mentor, he told me that I have a Type A Red (or Choleric) personality. I laughed but asked if it was wrong but felt I’m right. That itself gave proof that I am a Type A Red, a control freak, a perfectionist and worst of all it goes hand in hand with codependency... a boon to any business but a curse to any form of intimate relationship. So a few days ago I started reading on my personality type and below is an excerpt from Wikipedia alone---
Vulnerability
"Control freaks" or "perfectionists"[4] can be seen as defending themselves against inner vulnerabilities, as with the man who was "a dominating control freak because of his mistaken belief that if he wasn't in control, he would re-experience his childhood angst".[5] Such a figure will "cajole, wheedle, pressurise, get 'difficult' all the time, to get his own way. He's always behaving like a puppet-master, tying strings on other people … because he can't bear to be changed himself".[6] Similarly, a woman who 'is not grounded either in her own imagery or her own musculature … finds her identity in power over (sometimes called love of) her body, her family, her friends, her garden … Without that control, she is nobody'.[7] When such a control freak pattern is broken, 'the Controller is left with a terrible feeling of powerlessness … But feeling their pain and fear brings them back to themselves.[8]
Control freaks have been linked to codependents, in the sense that "codependency stems from a deep-rooted fear of abandonment, which leads to an excessive need to control and dominate … to control others because they fear they cannot control themselves".[9] Recovery entails recognising that being "a control freak … kept me in codependency, and pushed people away from me. To grow out of controlling, we learn to be, instead of do".[10]
In terms of personality-type theory, "the Control Freak … is very much a Type A … driven [by a] need to be in control".[11]
Type A
The theory describes a Type A individual as ambitious, aggressive, business-like, controlling, highly competitive, impatient, preoccupied with his or her status, time-conscious, and tightly-wound. People with Type A personalities are often high-achieving "workaholics" who multi-task, push themselves with deadlines, and hate both delays and ambivalence.
In his 1996 book, Type A Behavior: Its Diagnosis and Treatment, Friedman suggests that Type A behavior is expressed in three major symptoms: free-floating hostility, which can be triggered by even minor incidents; time urgency and impatience, which causes irritation and exasperation; and a competitive drive, which causes stress and an achievement-driven mentality. The first of these symptoms is believed to be covert and therefore less observable, while the other two are more overt.[3]
Choleric
A person who is choleric is a do-er. They have a lot of ambition, energy, and passion, and try to instill it in others. They can dominate people of other temperaments, especially phlegmatic types. Many great charismatic military and political figures were choleric. They like to be leaders and in charge of everything. They can be very manipulative.
I am citing only one source. And before anyone says I am self-diagnosing and it is unhealthy let me reassure you that it’s all good because the fact of the matter is what I’ve read I can affirm as what I do and how I act and the way I think and feel. Perhaps not all of them are real (such as being brand conscious or saying no to coupons) but I’d say nine out of ten of the information I have searched online is true. Now going back to the discussion on hand, having such a complex personality I want to give kudos to everyone who’s still my friend and moreso to B who’s never quit on me. I mean really... I am such a spoilsport and anyone who’d be around me would feel so oppressed I’d kill me if I was in a relationship with myself.
I am self-centered and egotistical, I tend to neglect the fact other people have feelings, I am very sensitive to criticism and losing control of a situations revive the skeletons in my closet. I look rude, arrogant, and pushy. I cut off people mid sentence and tend to give ultimatums. And I don’t think I have to state it but since we’re in a ball right now I’ll mention the fact that I have intense anger issues.
Even typing my faults now makes me want to just look for the nearest hole and let the earth eat me up. I mean really! They said 15% of the population has a personality type similar to mine but my question is, how do we live with ourselves?! But being the Type A Red that I am, my motivation has shifted on how to become better. How do you not become an asshole? Since I’ve realized how much of a killjoy I am, it only galvanizes my desire to work on my behaviour first then my feelings. It means I have to learn to chill without a pill, unlearn impatience, let things slide, accept wishy-washy people, give more hugs, smile more. And those are just a few of the things I need to accomplish on a moment by moment basis.
Such hard work! The consolation is at least I realize this now before it’s too late. Personally, the idea of learning to de-stress makes me a bit stressed already. I think my unrolled yoga mat will be a permanent fixture in my room from now on.
The post I wrote early this morning was published using the new Blogger app for iPhone. I wanted to try it and I imagine if a popo watched me walk to work this morning the cop would most likely stop me to check if I’m drunk. Coding at 3 AM while walking in streets lit by a handful of streetlights is something I won’t attempt any time soon.
The good news though is it works. The bad news is it’s not fully functional especially if you’re like me who is anal about aesthetics. Here are some of the features and challenges I had noticed and experienced when I was using it:
- Posts are not arranged on a consecutive order. Perhaps it was based on the date when the app was launched that’s why I notice the dates were all “11-09-09”. Yet even the entries were not arranged from most recent to oldest but a mishmash of very old, very new, and some in between.
- When writing a post and publishing, it will use the generic Times New Roman 12 font in black. To publish on your preferred font, size, and color you need to know a bit of HTML coding. If you want tabs, alignment, create a list, use any italicization you got to code it. Writing a post is like writing the simplest form of email without any embelishments.
- Pictures can be uploaded using your camera or existing photos in your library. I’m not certain though if you can use either/or the front and back camera of the iPhone 4 as I am using a 3GS.
- Unlike the full site, you can’t schedule when you want the post to be publish. You only have three options: 1.) save as a draft; 2.) publish it now; or 3.) delete it permanently.
- It takes an average of a minute for you to save a draft and then see your draft in the full site. That’s not bad.
- Tapping the nifty “B” at the bottom center of the app will bring you to another page where you can see your blog in mobile format. However, it will only display your post entries and any extra columns you have will not show up besides the “About Me” section. There is an option though to go to view the web version without having to open a Safari browser.
- Any post written/embedded in Java will not show (this is an iPhone limitation).
- If you use any java against plagiarism it will be disabled. Meaning if people can’t right click on your blog if they use a browser, using this app they can. But no need to be paranoid. They won’t be able to access your iPhone Blogger app anyway unless for some reason you leave your phone lying around unlocked.
- You can include your location in your post. I don’t use this particular features but it is included.
- Key features not available are: Posting videos, stats, blog settings management, comments moderation, page management. changing template, and layout editing.
Over all, I’d give them a Needs Improvement but would give a B+ on speed. Hopefully the feedback I submitted would be accounted for. Can’t gripe about it though as the app is only 2 days old.
Finally, Blogger has developed an iOS!
Ever since I started using an iPhone I have been wanting an app that will let me be able to blog. Almost three years ago when I acquired my phone one of the first apps I checked was Blogger to make it much more convenient for me to start an entry and finish it and save drafts to finish when I have more time in my hands. Unfortunately no app can be found. I’ve tried numerous alternative apps but having so many accounts online makes it cumbersome to maintain and even keep up with. Eventually I decided I’ll just wait for the Blogger app optimistic that it won’t take too long of a wait since Blogger is a branch of Gmail.
As I waited my posts started to dwindle. After all, having a job that is tedious and physically draining the least I want to do at the end of my shift is recall what was that idea that popped in my head a few hours ago. My Journler is full of ill composed posts that would probably make my highschool English teacher scratch his head and wonder where he had gone wrong. Sorry! Having an attention span of a five year old, there are numerous posts I start composing on my phone but do not end up finishing.
I’ve just finished downloading the app now. I’ve checked on it and it does not (of course) have the same interface as the full site but it should do for now. Some posts do not reflect in consecutive order. This app has a long way to go. But it will do for now.
Do you remember how it started out? You were praying for that someone who will be able to withstand your complex behavior. Most times you wondered if you’re prayer was heard or you’ve missed meeting the person because of so many screw ups you’ve done in your life. Then the dream came to you one day and you saw his face the first time, waking up brought you tears because you wanted to sleep forever just to be with him. But it gave you hope you’d see him one day and it made you realize that you had to suddenly grow up and be ready for that day when you’d be with him.
Remember the time when you opened up an account on that dating site? You weren’t the type but you thought this is the chance for you to meet him. You talked to a lot of guys and even started getting serious with someone in particular even though you knew from the start it wasn’t going to last. You told yourself you mustn’t settle just because you’re getting older and he might just have had a roadblock getting to you. You laughed and said okay. A few weeks later you saw his profile.
You stared for hours at his picture and felt your heart go triple time. You hardly get nervous but you were to a guy who doesn’t even know you existed. You wondered if he’d even care to know you and you bashed the thought that maybe he’s taken. He can’t be taken, you told yourself, because he was the man you dreamt so long ago. So despite your self-deprecation you sent a “flirt” to his online account and prayed so hard he would reply even though you already knew he would.
Do you remember the first time you talked? You were so nervous you were pacing in your room. It was funny how you walked back and forth when you’re room was only a little bigger than a closet, what was funnier was that he couldn’t even see you because you were only talking in Yahoo Messenger and the only sound coming from your computer was “blop” when he sent you a reply. You played 21 questions and as soon as you got to the difficult question you didn’t finish the game and gave the excuse that the other guy you were seeing back then wants to hang with you. Later on you tried to hook him up with your close friend but inside you wished he wouldn’t bite.
It was all cyberspace but it felt like you were betraying the other guy’s trust simply because you already knew from the beginning that this is the man you are suppose to say ‘til death do us part. Eventually the other guy gave reason enough for you to let go. You didn’t care though people laughed and somebody said it’s not a compatible match. All you knew back then was he is the one meant to be with you forever. Despite the distance you were hopeful of the day you would be together.
Do you remember the way it felt? Together you were so on fire and so in love. You’d lie in bed but didn’t sleep, hours of just talking and giggling and sharing. The passions you had for each other would make anyone blush. He tried to make you happy and kept his promises. You loved him faithfully and tried your best not to let the distance bother you. You wrote letters and sent him songs. You’d wake up wearing his old t-shirt. Calling him as often as you could even though it meant only hearing him breath while he is asleep. You told him stories and you laughed so much. The time with him was so precious that you didn’t want to rush.
Now you keep saying “We’re okay” but you know you don’t want to settle for good not great. You’ve change so much and it’s not even a plus. You’re so angry and jealous and hurtful and mean. Making him afraid of even sharing anything to you. Now when the words are said, it just seems hollow and farce. The confidence you’ve once had is now long gone and you don’t know what to do. You wonder where did that loving funny woman has gone but then you gotta realize you then and you now is one and the same. You’ve changed for the worse and you can’t bring back the memories and live in the past. But you can change for the better and then be the best rather or just let him go rather than make the person you love live in in misery.
Remember the vows that tied him to you. You may not be married but you gave a promise. Live, laugh, and love. Love yourself. And just because you love him but don’t just assume he knows. Remember the things that you used to do that made him fall in love you.
Remind yourself, remind him.
“What happens to cause the death of romantic love for our spouse? Why does this death happen to most of us four to ten years into our relationships? One main reason: We stop doing the things that create deep emotional feelings.” -David Clarke, Ph.D.
That sounds logical doesn’t it? But too often when life gets busy the first thing we forget to do is to take care of our love for each other. That’s what we’d like to discuss this week. We’ll be gleaning thoughts on this subject from the book, “Men Are Clams, Women Are Crowbars,” written by Dr. David Clarke. On this subject he writes:
“Our initial love for each other springs up without effort. When we first meet and are going out, the passion is just there! Boom! We instantly get it. It grabs us, and we’re swept along by this amazing, intoxicating river. It’s chemistry; it’s infatuation; it’s hormones; at least, in the beginning of the relationship. Our feelings of love aren’t connected to the higher intellectual centers of the brain. For once, even the man’s logic deserts him. It’s all one big emotional chain reaction.
“We have the feelings first. And the feelings motivate us to do things that are intense and exciting. Feelings come first, and then behavior. This is how all love relationships start. Because we’re ‘in love,’ we become a couple. We go out and do fun things together. We laugh and play and touch. Everything we do is driven by the feelings we have for each other.
“As our original feelings leave (hormones only carry us so far), we slowly stop doing loving behaviors. We end up, most of us, with the emotional connectiveness gone —wondering what happened —wondering why we are so far apart. We look at our spouse, and there’s no spark —no heart-pumping, adrenaline-rushing reaction. There’s just a certain fondness —an affection —a ‘you’re a nice person’ familiarity. It’s fine to feel that way about great-uncle Harvey or a household pet —but not about the person we married!
“Right here, many couples quit. When the feelings of being in love are gone, they think it’s gone forever, and they’ll never get it back. So they throw in the marital towel. ‘It was a nice run, but this is the end of the road.’ The relationship is, for all intents and purposes, over. A slow, hideous death begins. The couple will do one of two things. They’ll stay together out of duty and just bump along in a cold, emotionless marriage. Or, they’ll get divorced and try again with a new partner, and often the same cycle takes place.
“The culture’s answer to this loss is divorce. Culture says: ‘Look, nobody stays together forever. Life is too short to keep on suffering in this marriage. You have only 70 or 80 years to live. Get out while you’re still young enough to attract someone else. The kids will be fine. You’re just hurting the kids anyway by staying in your marriage.’
“Millions of persons, followers and non-followers of Christ are taking culture’s advice. I should say Satan’s advice. That’s who is really sending this message. It’s too bad, because those who leave marriage when the emotions leave never get to the good stuff. They quit too soon! Real, deep, lasting love is only reached after your initial emotional feelings run out, after the “cloud nine” experience. That’s when you can build the marriage God wants you to have.
“I see clients all the time in my office who want to divorce. They feed me culture’s advice, trying to persuade me to believe it. They’re disappointed and tell me: ‘We just fell out of love.’ I reply: ‘I know. Of course you did. Everybody does. That’s not a good enough reason to divorce.’
“Frustrated, they try again: ‘but, you don’t understand. I don’t love my spouse anymore.’ I respond: ‘I do understand. So? I’m not surprised. One partner always runs out of infatuation before the other. It just happened to be you. That’s still no reason to get divorced.’ I tell these clients that every couple loses their original love. It is a difficult and painful place to be. But it isn’t unusual. It’s universal. Then I tell them that now is the best time to build a real marriage. A marriage based not on infatuation, but on authentic love —the genuine article.
“I tell them: ‘you haven’t had a marriage yet. You’ve had a nice run on infatuation and hormones. That’s over and now you have a choice. You can divorce and have three, maybe four more infatuations before you die and never know true love. Or, you can build one great love relationship with the person you’re married to now. What’s it going to be?’
“I share God’s perspective with these out-of-love clients: ‘God wants you to stay in your marriage. He wants you to avoid the pain and suffering divorce inflicts on its victims. God’s perspective is eternal. It’s not 80 years and it’s over. It’s 80 years on earth, and then living forever in heaven or hell.’
“I try to convince these clients that, with God’s help, they can forge a brand-new marriage. Some have already been divorced, and are still searching for love. I tell them they can find an intimate, forever love with their present marriage partner. What I tell them is: ‘your marriage is dead. Go ahead and bury it. Let’s start over and make a marriage that is filled with life and love.’
“At the point in the marriage when you lose your feelings of love you have to do something revolutionary —something you’ve never done before. You have to reverse the process. You have to begin doing loving behaviors in order to bring back the emotional feelings. You won’t just wake up one morning and suddenly have the feelings back. It doesn’t work that way.
“From now on, it will be behavior first, and then feelings. For the rest of your life as a couple, you will have to work hard at creating and maintaining loving emotions. It’s worth the effort; believe me, because the alternative is grim. Living without loving feelings for each other is depressing and empty, and not pleasing to God. This isn’t what God had in mind when He designed marriage.
“God wants you to experience the deepest human love possible with your partner. And if you do the right things, you’ll get an ever-deepening love with your marriage partner. This love will be much more fulfilling than the hormone-driven love you had for each other back at the beginning. Loving emotions is like a fire. You must keep adding logs to keep it going.”
Amen! Amen! Amen! This is exactly what God showed us when years ago our own love had died for each other. But when we seriously committed our marriage to God and started to do loving things for each other, our feelings of love started to grow and became stronger than we ever thought possible.
It is our deepest hope that every Christian couple that reads this message will put the intentional effort in, to help your marriage relationship grow, as God would ordain. In doing so, you will experience an enduring love for each other beyond your imagination –one that reveals and reflects the heart of Christ. We pray the best for you, now and in the future.
Cindy and Steve Wright
~ The above article was shared by my aunt. More insight on marriage and relationship building can be learned through Marriage Missions International website.
Every one or two days and most often twice a day I get an email from Apple. Being a former employee and a Mac user myself I feel a sense of pride of being in the Apple community. And like most computer users, Steve Jobs is as iconic as the logo he’s created himself (next to Jonathan Ive, of course).
Browsing over my emails this morning I almost spewed the coffee in my mouth as I read of Steve Jobs’ resignation. I haven’t met him personally but he is a cult leader and alas I had become a follower over the years. It’s no surprise really, he’s got cancer for crying out loud. And in the pancreas! I’ve yet to learn of any person who’s survived that - and I mean be-cancer-free-for-the-rest-of-their-life-no-remission-survival. Every WWDC keynote he presents people’s moods shift to somberness as they watch his progressing frail arms and legs walk to the stage and enthusiastically promote the latest Apple toy. I meant no disrespect but the next news bomb would most likely be his death and Jack Layton’s won’t even be remembered in a year.
But today is not a good day today. And hopefully not for a very very very long time for Mr. Jobs. The primary reason I wrote this post was simply when I read the email that he stepped down as CEO I remembered the Commencement Address he gave to the graduating class of Stanford University on 2005. I’ve posted it before but then hearing and reading about it again is as inspiring as the first time.
I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.
The first story is about connecting the dots.
I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?
It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.
And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.
It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5￠ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:
Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.
None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, it's likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.
Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.
My second story is about love and loss.
I was lucky — I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation — the Macintosh — a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.
I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me — I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.
I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.
During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I returned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.
I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.
My third story is about death.
When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.
Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.
About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.
I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.
This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope it's the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:
No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.
Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.
When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.
Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.
Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.
Thank you all very much.
Yesterday a friend shared that a person we've known for awhile has passed away from lupus. This morning I found out thru Facebook that a former colleague died from stroke. Those two death notices have left me wondering about the inevitable.
Death is not something new to me. When I was highschool my aunt died suddenly from blood poisoning. Back then I was consumed by the guilt that maybe I caused her death. And then one of my cousins died from a car accident. I still feel a slight shudder down my spine when I recall his mother's wailing and calling me "Antoinette" as me and my cousin had similar features. My grandfather died not soon thereafter, but by then I have grown too distant to my relatives and family that I felt only a bit of sadness.
In between then and now I was consumed by work and any death notices were brushed aside and for those that were too shocking to understand I rarely felt much still. Until now.
I suppose this is a late quarter-life crisis or an early mid-life one, but the news of acquaintances' deaths made me wonder what I have done with my life and what memory I will leave behind. Sadly there hasn’t really been anything I’ve done with my life I’d consider meaningful and this realization has gotten me worried that if I die today or tomorrow my life will be nothing but bland memories for those who cared and hurtful ones for those who didn’t.
When I imagine my funeral I know I will not get tearful faces or any gun salutes or heartwarming accolades and even my headstone would probably be just my name and the year I was born and when I die. And all of that don’t mean much to me, what’s quenches my heart is imagining people who knew me wouldn’t even care less if I died. Sad. So sad I wish I could live eternally.
But I can’t. And so I have taken the time to think of my life and the legacy I want to leave behind. It’s not easy. It’s not like I have the making of a person who can cure cancer or give jobs to the poor. I know though that in my own small way I want to make a difference. Starting with those around me --- the people I have close relationships with, the people I work with and for, the people I live with --- I can serve and help ease their burdens instead of being selfish. Though I may not have power, influence and strength I know that my every action will be as a drop of water in a clear still pond to the Maker’s eyes. And at the end of my life perhaps even though no one comes to my funeral, it will not matter because I gave every moment of my life being a woman after God’s own heart.
In my first year in University I first discovered the wonderful world of orgs or organizations. In my first week alone I discovered the University has an org for those cowboy wannabes, people who are passionate about a particular sport or hobby or subject, and then there were orgs for the people who had similar taste and sexual affinity. I cannot help but giggle as I watched the transgenders who have gone a sex change brag about their recent cup sizes and even squeezing each other’s breasts to feel how “real” this operation is compared to the real thing. I thought to myself if the Colonel was here and seeing what I was watching he will probably march across them and start preaching the Word of God and make them confess that they are vile sinners for impugning God’s work in their lives and bodies.
I have recently read an article in Maclean’s regarding kids being diagnosed as transgendered. This article tackles the growing number of teenagers in Canada who have been diagnosed with gender identity dysphoria (GID) or transgenderism.
Perhaps it is not common in Canada such that this diagnosis will render a three page article. However, in the Philippines transgenderism is a way of life. You go out anywhere and it is common to see lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) people. And because it is common to see the “third gender”, these individuals are socially and economically integrated in the Philippine society and play an important role in shaping our culture.
For as long as I can remember, transgenderism is something that did not merit a doctor’s diagnosis in the Philippines. It had been the sociocultural identity of Filipinos. Yet despite Filipinos being open to transgenders, for some in the older generation denying is still the way of life. Like their counterparts in first world countries, there is a fear of rejection, humiliation, and abuse. Society’s expectation of manhood and femaleness as well as the religious upbringing is still prevalent among the older and admitting to be gay to your family is usually met with disdain and ridicule.
The article discusses the high suicide rates for GID teens as they are obsessing about their sexual preference as well as the burden of their secrets. But because of treatment thru hormone therapy Pediatric endocrinologist Dr. Daniel Metzger said, “...the new generation of young transgender kids are so much luckier for being able to do what they knew they wanted to do when they were 12”.
Yet despite my ability to be open to the LGBT people a huge part of me still questions if sex-reassignment surgery, hormone blockers, or even empowering children “to do what they knew they wanted to do when they were 12” is the way to go. I am not saying that we must encourage the child to play and dress the way that reflects their biological sex hoping that this may help them grow out of GID. But at the same time tolerating and reaffirming their anxiety of being born into the wrong body and is actually of the opposite sex is not right as well.
It may seem hypocritical of me to say these things given I have countless number of LGBT friends and acquaintances but on the other hand I have known a lot of LGBT people who used to be transgender yet reverted to their birth gender eventually. Perhaps this is a rare case, but in each of these rare cases I have discovered that when they recognized the depravity of their choices for perverting the way God created them and realizing that the only way they can change is through Jesus Christ it became a natural choice for them to stop.
I know for some the last sentence I’ve written may be deemed offensive. But whether you label me as bigot and remove me from your list of friends is all up to you. All I am writing is my observation. I do not have a child and I do not know of a family member who had to go through a difficult reconciliation whereas their child tells their parent that he or she is transgender.
Although I must acquiesce that it is very hard to understand what is inside a transgender person to have such a burden to make that change, I am also adamant in my belief that God made Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve, and definitely not Adam in Eve. And either way one words it, I believe He does not make a mistake by putting a man’s soul in a woman’s body. As usual, it all boils down to free will and the choices we make out of the situations we are faced upon.
In high school, I had to write an excuse letter every time I missed class. And since B told me I have been slacking around on my writing I felt an obligation to write an excuse letter. I have to say it’s true and yet it’s also false. True because I haven’t posted anything for more than four months. False because I have been writing. Except not on my blog. Allow me to explain further....
I’ve never really been proud of my writing. Unlike my older and younger sisters, I am not able to string words together eloquently and make it seem like the wittiest thing one have read so far. But as far as I can recall I had always had a journal. You know, that hard bound type with paper and you use a writing device on it. In it I bared myself and revealed my worst fears, my deep seated insecurities, my silent tears and unquenchable pain. I wrote of giddy moments, difficult times, sad tales and joyful occasions. And because I used paper I was able to write, paint, draw or compose my thoughts in prose or poem as well as discuss the most serious to the most mundane topic. It was ultimate D time and I was not afraid of being judged or criticized or even offending anyone. There is no pressure to write something because I know when I am ready and when I really need it my journal is just in between the mattress I can pull out anytime and open up to begin a new entry.
Eventually that journal became digitalized and I started blogging some time ago. I remembered the excitement I felt understanding the script that will help me personalize my blog and I thought how convenient it is that I am able to write anytime I feel like writing without having to bring a pen and my journal. Like before I used to write only for myself but eventually other people started reading my blog. And even though I kept the “no need to impress” attitude, some part of me still felt an obligation to not be a waste of space and write content worth reading. Not long after I decided to stop blogging as the intrusion to my privacy became too much. I always thought that what I write is none of anyone’s business anyway.
Why I started blogging again is still an enigma for me. Perhaps after years of suppressing my thoughts my minded wanted some release. Perhaps I got tired of talking about my ideas. Or perhaps I was just bored. Whatever the reason that wariness over my privacy’s intrusion has never really left me. And each time someone asks me “why did you write that?” I beat down the urge to snap at that person “why do you care to know?” But I have accepted the reality that since I put it out there for everyone to see, I have a moral obligation to be responsible with my words and actions. My Momi always told me to tone it down a little. And that’s what I have been doing on my blogging. Pathetic, if you ask me. But I’d rather be a wuss online than be too catty and make everyone bleed with my sharp words.
So that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I write but don’t post em all. I’ve learned from my past that there are some things in life I need not share because the truth is some things are just not meant to be known.
Here we go again...
I have been pushing it back the last few weeks trying to make myself preoccupied so it won’t touch me. But, alas, today as B watches TV and I sit in front of Mackie I can’t stop the sadness reaching me. I was hoping that it would be that usual bout of loneliness that I feel when the thought of us doing things together but not really doing things together hit me. This time it is a bit harder because not only do I feel sad, I feel despair. I know I can’t even type anything after this words. But I force myself rather than cry and cry and cry and cry.
I’ve always been a planner by nature. And since I have met Ball the plans I have made for myself and for my family I had to scrap. Things are different with him and his kids in Georgia. In order to be with him I have to relocate myself from Canada. In order for me to do that I have to find a job or wait for my mother’s petition or wait for him to petition me. And then I receive my work permit from the Canadian government. Another two years. I know I can resign anytime. But there is no reason to if I can’t move myself from here to there.
So now I am realizing again the importance of living in the moment. If I continue to focus on the day to day tasks, I feel okay, even hopeful and happy. But then the planner and goal-oriented part of my brain kicks in and makes me zoom out of my happy and hopeful moment to focus on the big picture. And then the part of me breaks apart and the happy bubble I am bursts because there is no clear big picture to focus on, all long term plans are on hold.
Over and over I keep telling myself I am a strong woman and my faith will see me through. But these days I am tired of being strong, tired of seemingly waiting, tired of expecting things will be different soon, tired of hoping today we will be finally together. Today I am tired of the uncertainty and the waiting. And I all I have left are the silent tears and the sobs I try so hard to swallow just so Bwill not hear me wail.
Not having the future figured out is scaring me and our separation is making me feel that I am losing time with him. I wake up from nightmares that we’ve gotten so old and we are still in the same situation we are at now.
But I know God is trying to teach me for years to be still and trust Him. After so many years He wants me to learn the discipline of spiritual perseverance - something beyond endurance, it is endurance combined with the absolute assurance and certainty that what I am looking for is going to happen. He does not want me to simply hang on and do nothing, but to work deliberately knowing with certainty that He will never be defeated.
I will go before you and will level the mountains;
I will break down gates of bronze
and cut through bars of iron.
I will give you the treasures of darkness,
riches stored in secret places,
so that you may know that I am the LORD,
the God of Israel, who summons you by name.
- Isaiah 45:2-3
“Bakit ganon... ang lalake pag binigyan nya ang pamilya nya ng pagkain, damit, bahay,
tapos napagaral nya ang mga anak nya agad sasabihin ng mga tao
‘Aba! Mahusay syang ama’.
Pero kapag babae ka kahit na ibinigay mo na ang lahat ng yun sa mga anak mo
kasama pa pati puso at kaluluwa mo parang hindi pa rin sapat na tawagin kang
mabuti kang ina.
Sana pwede nating sabihin na ‘Oops tama na, hanggang dyan na lang ang pagiging nanay ko.
Kasi kahit nanay ka nakakapagod din di ba?”*
- Josie, from the movie “Anak”, 2000
I’ve written quite a number of posts about her. And most of them were of fear, of anger, of hate, of ambivalence towards how she treated me. I know I was being unfair that I would write so many posts about my mother and people who would read it would only know my side and the bad side of her. The truth is, and this is untainted truth, she did what she can given her circumstances and she tried to love me, love us without going insane.
For so many years I have focused solely on the things she didn’t do for me and the things she did do but to hurt me and make me love her less. I found her harsh and at times standoffish. When tears would stream down my face she would firmly tell me to stop crying. When I almost drowned she said I am still alive. When I fell from our tree house and broke my nose she said that that is still far from my gut. When my father would beat me up she wouldn’t say anything to stop him. And all these years I remember my childhood and become bitterly resentful of her.
Recently I had a huge fight with B. And this fight resulted to both of us thinking the other broke up with the other. I was in a state of confusion and pain as it seemed my heart has been wrenched and all I had left was an empty void. In this melodramatic phase of my life I went and sought solace to the last person I normally would go to for comfort --- my mother. It may seem odd given our turbulent relationship but I knew that no matter how much I found her uncaring ways hurtful, the child in me always sought my mother’s comfort. I also knew that in more ways than one, I am very similar to my mother even to the type of man we’ve chosen to love.
We had quite a conversation and interestingly she took B’s side. She meant well and she knew that my judgement was being clouded by emotions. Emotions that she had learned to hone towards her benefit when her abusive father gambled the house she and her siblings lived in. Emotions that she had skillfully used to her advantage when her siblings refused to send her to school because she wanted to take a different degree. Emotions she had learned to master to make things happen while married to a philandering drug using husband who refused to give her financial and emotional support.
It’s been pointed out to me that I hold on too much --- mostly grudges, past bad experiences, pain and fears. And now I’ve realized how stupid I’ve been. Instead of making bad things in my life become inspirations to do good or become better I’ve tried to let the past and my emotions dictate my actions. Instead of thanking her for giving birth to me, I dwelled on the bad history of my name. Instead of appreciating her effort to provide for our needs when my father was neglecting it, I grew spiteful of her absence. Instead on appreciating the strength my mother has instilled in me, I dwell on her shortcomings. I focused on her nagging, that she checked on me as if waiting for me to make a mistake, that she watched my every move, every book I read, every piece of clothing I wore, the friends I hung out with, the words I used. And the more she watched the more I grew resentful of her. And in all the years I’ve rebelled I thought she didn’t cared when in fact she lifted me up in prayer and begged God to protect me.
In between sobs I blurted I just wanted B back. And she said, in a tone of certainty that she always uses, that he will be when he is ready. This gave me comfort. For so many things I have chosen to do or have in my life my mother had disapproved, the fact that she knew B would come back meant that for once my mother approved my decision. I guess she knew that despite the quarrels and bickering between me and B, he is the man who is for me and meant to teach me the different facets that love is. And so thru him I learned to see my mother in a different way... not as an Ice Queen but as a Ferz, the most valuable and powerful piece in the game of chess.
And so I’ve now reached a point in my life where I’m letting go of my past hurts from my mother. She wasn’t the ideal mother but I know that there is no such thing as an "ideal mother". She tried to make the best of everything for us even though she wasn’t loved much, cared much, needed much. And she loved me the best way she knew how and that was by not giving me up for adoption or abortion when she was told to do so.
~o~
*Don’t you wonder... when a man provides his family food, clothing, a house, and when he is able to send his children to school, people are quick to say ‘What a good father he is!” But if you are a woman, even after you’ve given all of that to your children even your heart and soul, it’s not even enough to call you a good mother. I wish we can say “Oops, that’s enough, that’s as far as I can be as a mother.” Because even though you’re a mother it’s also tiring, isn’t it? - Josie, from the movie Child, 2000
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