My computer table is just one of the smallest part of the world where I can sit down and see what's going on. Catching up with long lost friends and relatives, updating myself with the business trends and some entrep ideas, or simply feeling the sense of fulfillment within the day. This is my window to the world.
I am never the friendly type of person who smiles at everyone who I come across with, not even with acquaintances I had the chance to talk with once or twice. I don't even send much friend requests in Facebook (though I accept requests of anyone who adds me as a friend.) I've been to chatrooms, but I usually leave before the first minute, either because I used to get bored or I don't like what was happening in there (or what they were talking about).
This time, I tried staying a little longer. Well, for no reason at all!
I was trying to choose rooms which I think I could get good conversations from.
First stop. Career Improvement. Around 10 in the room. There were around 10 people. 2 having their own conversations. About 3 are doing their "inappropriate things" which others ignore. And the rest are lurkers, including me. Their conversation started from the job titles -- the one being a Marketing Expert and the other questioning his "expertise". Then it became a topic about Pakistan and Bin Laden... and so on... Then I got bored.
Second stop. The OFW (Overseas Filipino Workers) Community. My heart is close to OFWs. Part of wherever I am right now is a product of my father's persistence and hardwork in Middle East for more than a decade. I do not like to mention that my ex-boyfriend, who happens to be the first and last (so far) was an OFW. (Ours is another story, which I prefer not to tell). I know the feeling where every moment with your loved ones is something you owe from the latest technology available.
This is their virtual hangout. And I am a dumb witness in this corner of the world.
Rainy Saturday Outside. I haven't accomplished anything but cleaning my room -- from the ceiling to the floor, then under my bed. One shoe box caught my attention. Well, it wasn't a shoe box, but a box that contained the flip flops I bought from Human (a local clothing store), months ago.
I had the chance to do some sort of "artwork," if I may call it that way. I grabbed some of my well-kept colored pens and a highlighter that I keep under my pillows everytime I read books before bedtime. I also sneaked towards my four-year-old niece's things to get her old crayons and other coloring materials. Alas!
Look at the 26-year-old-crappy art.
Nonetheless, this is wonderful feeling! Wow! How I wish I could go back to the days when there were no rules that confine us when doing something; when monsters turn into colorful creatures we can just make fun of, instead of becoming the creepy ones that cripple us.
It is so true that we create our own monsters. But isn't it time to shoo them away in a beautiful way?
Today, I created my own definition of art.
This is thinking outside the box...and out of the box. :)
"Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A Beauty Bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one. It would explode high in the air explode softly and send thousands, millions, of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth boxes of Crayolas. And we wouldn't go cheap, either not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination." -Robert Fulghum
Friday, at work. Less than two hours before my weekend. Slouching on my seat while doing some of my work routines. Data was taking some minutes to download. I got hold of my phone as soon as I remembered about
Gawad Kalinga.
It has always been my dream to donate to a cause or more, or to give back to the community. While I am working my way to fully establishing my financial security, I believe I can still hand in my poor man's share to help others.
Few minutes before midnight in one corner of a call center floor in a manufacturing company in Cavite, a humble P52 out of a P100-peso remaining prepaid load made its way to people who are in need of a decent shelter.
This is just a start of something I would surely repeat over and over. May God shower me more blessings so I can give more to others.
(Note: I've also thought of World Vision Philippines and WWF Philippines but GK has the easiest donation process for someone like me who occasionally acts on impulse.)
They say, "Do something good to others without telling anyone about it." I couldn't agree more. But sometimes sharing the experience would be the best way to encourage others to the same. And that's the reason for this post.
Small deeds done are better than great deeds planned. ~Peter Marshall
Wanting to experiment if any one would think differently, I tried post one of the most "worn-out" phrases wherever I go. This is supposed to be the most thoughtful phrase you could ever hear if you only focus on what it means. It turned out to be a conversation filler. Worse, a clutter.
It's funny that people would ask "How are you?" but wouldn't listen to the answer. (Hey, I am guilty at times.) On the other way around, no body would care to answer this question when asked. And that's what happened today.
A largely-populated Social Networking site called Facebook (more or less A BILLION, if my research served me right). Around 450 friends. Noontime, when a large percentage of Filipino friends are Facebooking either at home and at work. NOBODY answered.
So, how are you today?
Back to Basics.
As I write this, I remember my Nursery school days, when my mom used to teach me my first lessons in writing.
Anyone could have an idea on how a long name could be a burden to a child who is asked to fit it in a pad paper. During those times my 15-letter name (without middle initial and the spaces) was considered long.
I tried to somehow re-live it today. Since I am not left-handed, I consider my left hand a "beginner" in the matters of penmanship.
Experiences re-lived. Lessons re-learned...
- When we are provided spaces, learn to fit in.
- Things aren't always easy at first attempts. Repetition is the key.
- The best way to complete something is enjoying the process.
"My handwriting looks as if a swarm of ants, escaping from an ink bottle, had walked over a sheet of paper without wiping their legs.” -Sydney Smith (1771 – 1845) English clergyman and essayist