Befriending my Computer, Part 2

I have made peace with my computer.

A little more than a fortnight later, I managed to navigate the little black beast. I even learned how to use Mind Maps (another software I used to abhor), but because the application allowed me to map the entire structure of my computer drive (hallelujah!), I appreciated its use.

Now, the saga continues. System requirements: reboot!

Postscript: thanks to Paul Staincliffe of AgResearch for pointing me in the right direction, and Ian Witten of Web Dragons lore (aka University of Waikato's Computer Science Department) for providing the context of digital library management. Of course, to mon cheri Philippe, for letting me befriend my computer in the most painless way possible.

Befriending my computer

I don't like computers.

I think computers are cold, alienating objects that rob people of personal connections. They're also a big liability, consuming tremendous amounts of electricity and crashing during the most critical moments. Ironically, I use a computer everyday. At least eight hours, in fact. I write with it, read with it, and sometimes, talk through it. And I hate it every time I use it.

As much as possible, I avoid using the computer. I leave my work unit at the office, and I grudgingly use my personal one at home. I have begun to harbor secret jealousy over that computer, which I feel Philippe spends more time with during the week than with me. Never mind if Philippe is a computer scientist by vocation; I still resent that black Compaq beast he stares into whenever he's with it.

These days, however, I face my biggest challenge yet: I have to organize a digital library. I knew it was only a matter of time until the universe conspired against me and handed me a mandate to face my most abhorred task: working fulltime with computers.

I understand how inevitable computers are nowadays. These machines are the tools for our trade: they are the new pen and paper; the new card catalogue; the new photo album. But what I dislike so much about them, is their immense dependency on the user--the blasted things won't work properly unless you tell them to do so!

Concrete example: in the olden days, when I saw something in my head, I either drew it on paper or constructed it using materials I've gathered. I then present it to people, or package and send it through post. Now, because people can work "remotely" and needs "graphics" to verbalize what's in their head, the ideas need to be "saved in a Word document"; "illustrated using Adobe"; or "uploaded through Picasa Web". To perform all these, I need to use the computer. Bah, humbug!

Obviously, I'm having a paradigm shift. As with any life-altering event, this is going to take a while.

Computer, befriend thyself!

Nine months and counting

Last time I wrote here I was promising myself a good year. And writing about international karaoke. And talking about mangroves.

Since then, I've travelled to East Thailand, South Thailand, and Viet Nam. I've gone island hopping, river boating, and mangrove pubpeabing (Thai traditional respectful pose on a Rhizophora root). I've eaten durian and sticky rice; doggy lechon (thit cho--in my defense, I thought it was roast pork on the plate); and crispy crickets.

On March, Philippe and I welcomed our first house guest from New Zealand/Philippines. Amar Durakovic was a great house warmer, and we enjoyed reviving a tradition born in Hamilton: The Film Club now lives in Bangkok.

April and June were interesting because I went back home to Manila and brought Philippe along with me. I am so delighted that my family adored him, and now I'm in trouble because my dad likes him a lot (they're allies now). My baby brother Aaron married his longtime sweetheart Sallee, and I received news that my cousin Ejie in the States is set to welcome his firstborn soon (as I write, my first pamangkin Layla Sophia Cortez is happily snuggling in her cot). My Ninang's labrador Sophie had a new litter, and Papa's Persian cat Ichiko is growing at a phenomenal rate.

The month of May was sabai-sabai ('feevty-feevty'). It wasn't my best month. The shining moment was a weekend at Danmoen Saduak, the popular Thai floating market. Reliving the action scenes in Bangkok Dangerous was exhilarating.

Amidst the flurry of activities, I've done a lot of soul searching and career learning. It seemed like freshman year again; I felt the urge to 'shift'. After six months of working on my first regional post, I felt I was failing miserably. Everything I worked on seemed to move at snail's pace, and everyone in senior management around me left the office for other careers. I even felt I was drifting away from my beloved mangroves, and I seriously asked myself, "Do I still want to do this?" In one of my journal entries, I wrote in desperation, "I've forgotten what I love to do!"

I am really grateful for Philippe's generosity through it all. During one of my more doleful pity-parties, he stood by me, patiently hearing me out. Bless his kind heart (of course, the Phuket beach air helped a bit, too).

In a last ditch attempt to pull myself out of the dumps, I jumped on a small grants field trip with project managers and we sailed off to the second largest mangrove forest in Thailand. As I was weaving my way around Rhizophoras and quietly admiring the Bruguieras, I asked God and the mangroves, "Lord, do I really have to give up my dream? Is it time to stop my mangrove chasing?" As if on cue, the Thailand coordinator asks me to pubpeab (sit squat-style, with knees folded and palms facing together in a prayer pose) on Rhizophora roots. I gamely do, and I tell you, it was as if I sat on a mother's lap. Serenity on earth.

As our boat was sailing out into the river, I looked at the mangrove canopy and saw two white egrets fly. At that moment, I felt at peace. My spirit was reassured. God was telling me to not lose heart. If I love, I must take both the good and the bad.

My mangrove journey will have its rough spots (and boring times), but it will always have its shining moments. I realize that there are no perfect career places, but there will always be family and people who inspire me to carry on.

Salamat sa mga mahal ko sa buhay, andito pa rin ako.
(Thanks to those I love, I'm still here.)