J

Relationship requires a lot of effort.

This I learned through friendships strained by distance. I am not really good at long distance relationships. I find it difficult and tedious to keep in touch through the internet. Maybe my detachment stems from the feeling that it doesn’t actually feel like you’re talking to a person when you’re reading an email or when you’re chatting through YM.

One of my best friends moved to China because of her work. It has been months since I really talked to her. And I wanted so badly to tell her about the things that are happening to me. Not serious things, really. Just day to day nothingness that usually make their way to her through a text message or a phone call. But now that she’s miles away, an email of, say, how I thought I elicited the attention of a certain med student, doesn’t really seem appropriate. Parang I feel that it would just take up a bulk of her email space. So I just let nothingness after nothingness pass and when I finally catch her online and she asks what the “latest” is, nothing of significance comes to mind.

I rarely update her. And it saddens me that I couldn’t go the extra mile to send her a worthwhile email.

My “China” friend and I are separated by distance. And it’s difficult. But I also have friendships that are strained not because of distance but by well, I really don’t know. A few posts ago I said I became cold and indifferent. So maybe it started there. I just got tired of texting and replying to text messages. I was so caught up with everything I had to do and I lost track of everything and everyone else. I don’t do well in multi-tasking. And my puny brain could only handle so much trouble. When I set my mind on a goal, I focus and forget everything else.

So my relationships were strained. And I’m trying to get them back in shape. But it takes effort and time. I’m learning. And I just want my friends to know (especially my fashion police, my wedding dress designer, my ultimate “kakampi”) that I miss the great friendships I share with you all.

I miss how we could just stay up well into the night and just talk about anything. I miss how we could just decide to meet up and pig out on pizza and ice cream. I miss how you could make me feel better by taking my side even if I know that you’re a bit biased. I miss how we could spend the afternoon just mall ratting. I miss you, more than words could say. And heck, I know you’ll say I’m baduy and jologs, but who cares. I know you miss me too.

I've heard people complain about technology cutting personal relationships and replacing them with cyber ones. But when put into a situation where personal relationships are severed by distance, technology is one fine friend.

I Couldn't Help Myself

Many mourned the death of King of Pop, Michael Jackson. I do not in any way demean the man’s great and unmatched contribution to pop culture, music and history. But I think the death of President Corazon Aquino merits more attention, if not from the whole world, at least from our nation.

History is one of my least favorite subjects. And I was only taught to be a critical thinker when I entered college. So needless to say, I know little about Cory and her administration. What I do know is that she was a strong, determined, well – educated woman, who fought for her family, her faith and her nation’s freedom.

My parents are Martial Law Babies. And it was inevitable that they became sentimental when they learned of Cory’s death.

My dad said that Cory’s death somehow represents the marking down of their generation’s history. Sooner or later, young people would only have heard of the Martial Law, the People Power Revolution, Ninoy and Cory inside their history classes. Soon, Cory’s memory and her passion for democracy would only be read in books.

My mom on the other hand, chose to see the “drama” in all of these. She said that Ninoy wrote a poem for Cory when he was in prison. I think it has the lines “I fell in love with the same woman three times…” or something like that. She was almost in tears when she said that she hopes Ninoy and Cory would find each other on the other side of life.

Do you want to know what my reaction was upon hearing about the news? I immediately thought of Kris and how she would present herself before the media. I’m sorry for my superficiality. I was sick and I slept through the whole Saturday. It was just today that I fully understood how much Cory meant to the Filipino people.

“I would rather die a meaningful death than to live a meaningless life.” - Cory

I think President Aquino lived a life brimming with meaning and purpose. And in her death, the passion for which she did the things she so bravely accomplished reignited the fire in each and every Filipino's heart.

About Need; A Day with PNP Trainees

A few weeks ago I was given a rare opportunity to be with some 400 PNP Trainees in Angeles, Pampanga. Our church was requested to conduct a “Purpose Driven Life” Seminar for the said people. As far as I know, General Razon ordered that PNP officials undergo PDL Seminars as a requirement under their program to improve values among policemen. So anyway, my Dad wanted me to go help out at that seminar. I really didn’t want to but since I am eager to please, I went.

I was really hesitant because I haven’t read PDL in so long and I didn’t know who were coming with me. The night before the seminar, I was even trying to get out of it by telling organizers that I don’t have a means of going to the meeting place at such an early hour. But my brother decided to be generous and told me to bring the car. With no more reasons to back out, I was driving at 6 in the morning, with no idea what I was up for.

It was raining when we arrived at the training “camp” in Angeles. It was muddy and I was worried about my shoes when all of a sudden a few guys, looking all the same with their “semi – kal” hairs, white shirts and maong pants, came running toward the car - they have no shoes on. They were tasked to help us with the equipment we had.

When I entered the hall, the trainees were all seated on the floor. I then asked one of my companions where the girls were. I was told that they were the ones in front. I remember I even argued that those were also male trainees, because well, they look like boys. They had short hair cuts and had the same outfit on. From the back, they really looked like boys. I instantly felt awkward and in my most pasimple way, removed the necklace I had on. It was my dire attempt to look simple enough so that these girls wouldn’t be intimidated by how I look. I was really worried. I didn’t know how I was going to relate and talk to “roughened” up girls. There I was in my pretty clothes and shoes, with my hair neatly combed and my face all made up – and then there they were, with hairs cut to the bare minimum, with plain white shirts and maong pants. I didn’t think less of them, I just thought I would not in any way be able to “connect” with them.

When I had the chance to speak to some of the girls, I realized we were more alike than I thought. They have boy troubles just like me, they have vanity concerns just like me, and they have great great dreams.

I learned that all the trainees should be a graduate of a four year course. Most of them studied criminology. Still, it left me dumbfounded when I found out that some of the trainees were nurses, lawyers, engineers and there was even a dentist. I was quick to ask, “Why?”. I worded the question carefully. I told them that I was curious. But in all honesty, I was wondering why girls with a degree and a chance to work as “something” else would choose to go through such a rigorous training to become a policewoman.

The answers I got were varied. Some wanted to serve, some wanted to prove that they could handle the training, but majority of them wanted to be like their fathers who were policemen themselves. But one common reason is the financial benefits of being a PNP officer.

No matter what the reason, it pained me to see girls, some even younger than me, having had to cut their hair, eat in less than 10 counts, train as much as boys train, and be cut off from their loved ones for 6 months.

Necessity is often the driving force of the universe. These girls chose to be in their present circumstance because of need. I may not understand why. I may feel violated by how they are being trained. But it is necessary.

They said when they are finished with their training they would go to a spa and have body scrubs and facials. That made me smile. Even though externally we look different, we still have the same inner core; a girl’s heart.

I just admire everyone I met that day. I admire their strength and determination. I will never look at a policeman, and more so a policewoman, the same way again.