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.)

Mangroves and Knowledge on a Sunday Brunch

How uncanny it is to find two of my favored topics on the same table today over Sunday brunch. It was such a breath of fresh air to speak of mangroves and knowledge management with teenagers on their way to making a difference in the realms of geography and the sciences. Bless the parents who encourage them, and the schools that allow them to explore possibilities. I hope that these young 'uns keep cultivating their curiosity and creativity.

What's more fascinating is to have the conversation both in English (moi) and French (sila). Tapos, mga Pilipina rin sila. Astig di ba? Best of all worlds, all a la table. Goodness knows where my passion for mangroves will take me next.

(Complimentary plug for the Bangkok Guide for Kids, by Kids. Authored by Andrea and Ines Dumont. The comprehensive guide is not just for Kids, but for adults too. Maraming salamat, Pamilya Dumont, sa pagtanggap sa amin ni Philippe. Pagpalain kayo!)

Milestone on the 3-month mark

I just came back from an all night international karaoke.

It was pretty cool to see people threshing out their cathartic moments on a microphone accompanied by music and lyrics from a big screen. I never thought I could sing Thai, but hey, it works. I found that singing "Chimi-chimi-ah-ah!" works very well for my tonal range.

I turned three months in Thailand on 12th January, and before that day, I was in Chiang Mai, seeing the country and scaling its heights. It was a great achievement for me, jumping on that bus, with people who could only speak the most basic of English, and who probably had no clue that I was Pinoy. I used to be terrified of venturing out my street by myself, but on my third month in this Kingdom, I find myself mustering up the courage to go beyond my familiar street zones. I am slowly warming up to this place. I am feeling the urge to explore my new 'hood.

So tonight, after witnessing how much coke and whisky people can have while singing 6 hours of karaoke non-stop, and how many different kinds of dance moves can be applied to the songs of the Backstreet Boys, I think I'm ready for more city exploring.

Chai, chai. Yiam ma!

Happy 2011

Masaganang Bagong Taon mga Kaibigan!

I wrote a while back saying that once my apartment is clean, I will be ready to take on my new city with gusto and bravado. I have, and I am. Over the last new year holiday, I stayed at my flat, cleaned my kitchen, my cupboard and my floors. My flat is all gleaming and fresh smelling now, and is already looking more like a home. I celebrated by going out on my first ever New Year's Party (yes, yes, with the alcohol, and the beef, and the revelry, and the fireworks too). I met a Thai Darth Vader (posed for a photo too), and saw how much His Majesty the King is revered by the Thai people. I spent the night with new friends in a new environment, and I was just amazed at how efficient public transportation is in the city (sky train open until 2 am, oh I love commuting!). I cleaned, did the laundry, and completely unpacked during the first three days of the year, and on the fourth of January I was ready for work. It was a good way to start the year.

Today, everybody noted how happy I looked. Your eyes shine now, they say. Good sign, I say. Looks like I've settled in.

Happy new year indeed.

Bad art night and my bakawan speak

I miss talking to people.

Real people, and real talking. And I don't mean work talk or trash talk or social talk. I mean, talk talk.

I remember the first and only Bad Art Night my friends Nikki, Paul, and Carlo had one night right after University. We doodled all night long, but we talked. We told stories of what we wanted to do later in life, and what we feared we might not end up doing. We had a grand time, but we also had the chance to hear our thoughts out loud while feeling safe in that "bad art" environment.

I miss them, Nikki, Paul and Carlo. I imagine them all doing things that they thought they'd never do, but having a grand time doing them. I miss catching up and just saying, "How are you?" and not expect a grandiose synthesis of what life was for them in the past 10 years, but more of "Great, and you? I missed you too, how are you?" and just feel at peace with that earnest reply.

I remember saying on that Bad Art night that I really want to pursue mangroves a la National Geographic. You know, the whole chasing mangrove stories around the world, taking my own photos, my own videos and writing my own articles? The whole glam and pizazz, as well as the jetsetting of it all. For majority of the years following that bad art night, I think I was able to do exactly as I wished.

I think, however, I badly need another bad art night this stage in my life. Just doodle for hours into the night and maybe early morning, just talking and voicing out my fears. And I need to do it with someone or some folks with whom I can feel safe, and vulnerable--but safe nonetheless. It's funny how when we grow into adults, we forget how easy it is to just come out into the open and say, "But wait! I'm confused. Can we sit down and doodle it out?" The wisdom of kindergarten playtime and crayon time is manifested right here, right now.

Ah well. The mangroves are still there, waiting to be chased and photographed or captured in video. The NatGeo article is still waiting to be published, and the mangrover in me is still keenly interested in "seeing the world, one mangrove at a time". Yet just this one time, can I just sit and doodle and talk? Bad-art style?

Miss you Niks, Paul, and Carlo. I hope you are all well.