Procrastinating Like There's No Tomorrow

I'm not an exception. I have a hundred tasks to do and I don't know where to begin.

It's Sunday and I woke up at 9am to have an early start. The early start became 11:30am since I dozed back to dreamland as soon as I hit the snooze button on the alarm. By noon, my early start began rather slow as I counted drips on my improvised coffeemaker for a full-bodied dark mug of coffee. I got impatient and decided to make a latte instead, assuming that lattes are three-fourths milk. Coffee chugged down, face chilled. Time-check: 1pm.

'I need to do the following things', my mind kept on scrolling this on my line of sight. 'I should make a list,' I thought. Make that thing for mum. Make that thing for school. Make that thing for the team. Make that other thing for the school. Make one more thing for the team. And so I sat down in front of the computer and made photo collages for my Friendster account.

Editing my photos and posting it on Friendster ate most of my afternoon. But one thing leads to another when you're online. Before I knew it, I was already wiping off some unworldly specimen just in time for Kala's buzz in YM. `You haven't been blogging,' she said. After a quick chat, I logged on to Blogger at exactly 6pm. Thanks for bringing it up, Kala.

Now, here I am with a hundred things to do. I lie. Only four of five things. But these are major, lose-your-job-if-you-don't-comply things. I don't feel any sense of urgency nor panic. I figure, I still have a hundred hours left before bedtime, so what's a nice movie to watch?

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Out of Gotham

The kids were all excited for the much-hyped Halloween party. I'd like to think that I did not give it a lot of thought but I can't deny that I spent close to 500 bucks just to make my 5th grade class beaming with happiness. There was only one thing left to do on the 30th of October--cram for a costume.

I had a short list. Shrek, too green. Hulk, too buffed and too green. Barney? Too purple. Zombie, possibly. The Joker, perfect. The Joker is the costume of choice for last-minute people. All I needed were white face creme and mum's liquid eyeliner and checkered vest . I locked myself in the classroom, put on make-up for about 10 minutes and borrowed my student's tie (in exchange I made him up as The Crow).

The Joker is out of Gotham and the Batman is not the only one having some Cantonese action. Now that it's all over and the rushed look was a hit, I think it's time for a few (excuse me for saying this) 'shout-outs' ew. I'd like to thank myself for my hair and make-up. And I'd like to thank ExpertVillage for their crash course on The Joker look

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The Tourist

How to spot a tourist: a map, a camera, a bottle of water, cargo shorts, rubber shoes, big backpack (or worse, a belt bag), possibly loads of shopping bags, overly giddy smiles, and a whiff of designer perfume with base notes of sweat and confusion. These things I try to avoid when I go to Kowloon , Hong Kong . The last thing I want is to be labeled a tourist, I don’t know with you but “tourist” does not sound too positive to me, i.e. a poser. Besides, I’m part of the ‘local’ crowd now—legal aliens marooned indefinitely for the promise of a brighter future. How to spot a ‘local’: settled and bored.

I’m on the routine now. Spend six months on the territory and you’re bound to know the tourist spots (and try to avoid it or at least go there discreetly), know which buses to take and which trains to transfer, where to shop cheaply, and know a few Cantonese sentences to get you by through the day and perhaps get you hooked one lonely night in a bar.

Culture shock here is not when you see a bunch of old Chinese folks doing flawless Tai Chi every morning at the park or being amazed (or nervous) around a gang of tattoo-clad kids with extreme fashion-forward `dos. Culture shock here is when you see a flood of Filipina domestic helpers along sidewalks at Central on a Sunday. One is guaranteed of this tear-jerking moment as random flashbacks of Milan , Anak and Caregiver overwhelm the first-time visitor. I’m used to the sight though. Like me, they’re already ‘local’.

Urban legend has it that Filipinos are more hard-working abroad. After more than a year as an OFW I’ve completely dispelled myths that Flips are lazy. Take away the trisikad, tricycle, trisiboat, multicab, jeepney and the occasional habal-habal and see the Pinoy walk. Here in HK, Filipinos adapt to the system without much qualms. We walk, we fall in line, we alight on designated bus stops and we don’t complain. This energetic and disciplined lifestyle reflects on one’s performance at work. At the end of the day, I’m tired but proud of myself for surviving yet another day without the usual conveniences.

So I get used to the absence of a nearby sari-sari store, tipid packs, and E-load and embrace a culture that has been perfected through centuries. Start the fireworks and throw the confetti, I’m a `local’.

And as part of the routine, when the work is done, the `local’ goes back to his quarters through a sea of lonely, weary workers on crowded walkways and trains, opens the door to his apartment, throws his bag on a corner, collapses on the bed, picks up the phone, and calls someone back home.

How to spot a tourist: a long face, phone cards and two mobile phones.

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Work It

I hate to admit it but the long silence, despite all or any of the reasons, was nothing more than just me hitting the wall. It certainly took me awhile to get back because I was afraid to face the blank white space.

I hope the header is symbolic enough. I have arachnophobia. I have a new template. If eating freshly popped fear is easy for you to understand, we're transmitting brainwaves in the same frequency.

In any case, I'm back (yet again), with new harder equipment, a faster wireless connection, and a stronger sense of commitment to my blog. It should be better now, I think or else I'll have to give you the finger (video by BaratsandBereta).

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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.

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