Not Too Far From the Tree

Teaching has always been part of my agenda. My idea of it involved college students, a night schedule, one creative subject like TV Production or Theater and a very cool professor. The day I walked inside the Primary 5 classroom, I knew I only got one of my requirements right and I'm holding on to my cool no matter how other teachers view it or no matter how much the kids test my boiling point.

Ladies and gentlemen, I don't fit the type but yeah, I am a teacher. Highly respected (I call the kids dude or bro), well-regarded (our 'handshake' is the knuckle rub), and all-knowing (does anybody have a calculator?) teacher.

Since day one I've made recess and lunchtime a PSP open-tourney, taught them Rent's Season of Love in Music class (maybe next year I can show them the movie and have them close their eyes during the strip show), played basketball with them during PE and called it hoops, and told them to go crazy on a piece of paper for their Visual Arts class. If you thought Robin Williams' unorthodox professor in Dead Poets Society was rebellious then you haven't seen me sing Crawling with my students while holding sour gummy worms.

My teaching style might be too racy for some but I think it's the only way to get more kids to listen. Boring teachers only get the attention of the smart ones. But what about those who are always distracted or daydreaming? You only need to watch an episode of Late Show with David Letterman to understand what I mean. Annoyances are sometimes necessary to keep your audience focused, imagine the irony. Back in my primary school I'd always look forward to classes that my favorite teachers handled and they were the ones who knew the language of my generation.

When I was in fifth grade, my dad taught my PE Class (funny how life comes to a full circle sometimes). He was one of the cool teachers. I guess I can give him props for that. Like they say, the fruit doesn't fall far from the tree, but personally, I prefer the "shit doesn't fall far from the ass" analogy. Bun intended.

Sidetracked

I was on my third week of my two-week vacation back in Davao in December and enjoying every minute of it when I asked my mom, quite casually, if I can work in Hong Kong instead. What began as a conversation piece quickly became a serious plan that the very next day, I filed my resignation from my mid-east stint.

I’m in Hong Kong. It’s official. I’ve been trying to keep it secret for several reasons. One is because my boss’ er ex boss’ son reads my blog and I don’t want them to get the wrong idea because I wrote an entirely different explanation in my resignation letter. Another was because I had to wait for certain formalities here in HK. But now that everything is quite settled, and Lee has agreed to keep mum about my whereabouts, I’m seriously going back to blogging now.

For the past three months I’ve been a semi-bum because I’m not allowed to work and receive compensation. It sucks. After having a busy and ‘happening’ life, it was hard to go back to being a slacker.

More than a year ago I was on my way to becoming a filmmaker. Well that was the plan anyway. But I had to put that on hold and go to Qatar. Now, sidetracked yet again, I’m here in Hong Kong living, according to Kala, the dream city and dream job. But that’s not my dream. I’m still hoping that I’ll get to that goal. I’m on the longer, more scenic route (I’ve always chosen that option in one too many psych tests).

Being sidetracked is part of life and those who say “you’re in control of your own destiny” are just plain lucky.

It Used To Be So Simple Then

I feel like a stranger in my own skin. I lost the rhythm and I might have lost the drive, too. But I’ve been meaning to face the blank page once and for all and I have to say that it took a lot of guts to even begin a sentence. So, I’m thinking baby steps.

As far as I can remember, even before my Choose Your Own Adventure days, I have always wanted to write. Doogie Howser, the father of blogging, I think, inspired me to keep a daily journal. Okay, it was more like a yearly thing. Okay, fine, it was more like an if-I’m-in-the-mood kind of journal. Like Clockwork Orange is already a feat if you really think about my writing habits.

I reached 30 last May 4 and it was a slow climb to midlife. I think I’ve reached a plateau so I’ll use this time to get ready to ascend my peak (big thanks to my life coach for the optimism.)

So yeah, the secret is out. I’m 30. I might as well be dead. Let me see a show of hands, who of you here has reached this age and thought that we are merely kids in wrinkly skin and bad arthritis and that, more than ever, we are more accountable with our actions because apparently, we are ‘adults’? For example, a naked 3-year old kid in public is funny and cute whereas a naked 30 year old man in public is asking for jail time or the straitjacket.

I miss the days when I answered to a teacher and not to a boss, when I received allowances and not salaries, when problems were limited to maths and not life goals. But I’m happy at the moment and unless you’re starving or stuck under rubble, you really can’t complain.

Where Was I?

I’m back on the blog. After a very long silence I think it’s about time I let my readers know, if there is anyone left, what happened since I stepped on the plane that took me home. To hell with the unpublished entries (yes, I’ve had quite a few lined up), to hell with the “12 Things I’ve Learned in Qatar” series, and to hell with past sentiments. What’s important is right here, right now. Now, where was I?

I was away from blogging, and the only reason is because I was back to my old life. I started Like Clockwork Orange the day I left the country but now that I’m back I didn’t feel the need to blog. It would be unfair to abandon it just because I’m enjoying my vacation. All my patient readers have followed me through my downs, it’s only right to walk them through my ups.

There’s not much to say except that I’ve been partying and eating a lot. Drinking every other day is still not enough to flame the breathalyzer after a year of almost zero alcohol. So I’ve been hanging out with friends, alternating between coffee and beer. I’ve been sleeping during the day and roaming the scenes at night. In short, I’ve been a total slacker.

So, there you have it—instant recap of weeks of absence from the blogosphere. I’m sure I’ll come up with a more detailed post one of these days. What’s important is you know I’m still alive. I’m taking this opportunity to jumpstart my blog, it’s the new year after all.

Token Pinoy

I have never partied with a multi-racial, multi-national, multi-cultural group before so when Nasser invited me to join a bunch of Qatar Living regulars I was a bit hesitant but I knew I would never pass on the chance.

Nasser was already at the bar, an Indian band was playing songs that didn't quite fit Qatar--covers of animal sounding bands anthems like Scorpions, Eagles, and Def Leppard. After introductions I was sure Nasser didn't pick the place (one flawless Oprah impression did the trick!).

I thought I'd feel out of place but the group was as warm as a freshly baked pie. There was an American, a Canadian, a couple of French guys, a Greek, a couple of Flips, and Nasser, the only Qatari. A few other fellows came and went, at some point there was an Indian and two Iranians (yes, there are gays in Iran). When the other Flips hopped to the hipper bar I instantly became the token Pinoy.

As the token Pinoy I played my part well, I asked a lot of questions, although shyly at first, then I eased up and talked to my neighbors. As the token Pinoy, I tried to crack a punchline every now and then. As the token Pinoy, I drank faster than everyone else--I keep forgetting that the tagay system did not apply there.

When the night ended, Nasser was so wasted but decided that shaving and having been compared to a Persian (cat, that is), were all worth it. He asked me if I was alright because he thought I seemed 'different' from the 'blogger' that he read and the 'blogger' in person. I could've showed him the first two minutes of The WineKone's Launch Party Afterthoughts had it been on Youtube already. He asked me if I had fun. I said I did.

I did. And I found out that being the token Pinoy wasn't such a big deal after all. It was just like having Nasser as the token Qatari, or Erin as the token Canadian, etc. In the end we were just a bunch of guys that probably didn't have anything in common except for a unified mission of having a good time.

By the next weekend, I was already working my way up as part of the regular cast and meeting other regulars as well, including a token Indian, a token Australian, a token Moroccan, a token Brazilian, a token...