* Reprinted from my article in SILBI Publication

 

 

Are we economically sound? Where do we position ourselves in a warring zone of globalization?

 

These are the questions that burden us as we struggle with emerging trends of competitive threats and opportunities in the global market. The same set of questions that boggle not only the great economists but more importantly the regular Filipinos who look for plausible explanations and tangible results.

 

Glocal Mindset

 

The surge of peso as opposed to the dollar, which recorded recently with a history-breaking stronghold after almost five years of slump, is being questioned of government intervention. Intervention is normally done with the government's financial reserves being funded in the stock market to help improve the currency exchange state. If proven true, the intervention could do more harm than good in the long run since it could mask the real performance of Philippine economy. Before we know it, the trickle down effect of this practice will be felt drastically, reminiscent of the 1997 economic crisis.

 

Government is easily to defend that the impressive country heavily depends on the dollar remittances of our Overseas Contract Workers (OCWs) and the improving fiscal condition. Recently, the E-VAT and other forms of tax collections posted higher figures, notwithstanding a significant income raise in exports and related industries. This scenario offers an optimistic premise of an economy capable of withstanding vulnerability to domestic and external shocks.

 

 

Papers Vs. Practices

 

In terms of policy developments, the Philippine economy enacted legislation in 2001 to privatize the government's debt-saddled National Power Corporation (NPC); the government procurement reform in 2003; the Securization Act in 2004; and amended Value Added Tax in 2006. Reforms include laws increasing excise taxes on tobacco and liquor products and putting up a system of rewards and penalties in revenue collection agencies. These policies are essential in relieving liabilities and expanding opportunities to better economic standing.

 

But the country is also burdened with limited financial resources due to debt service and poor tax collection performance. Policies are merely means to execution and results. Without the immediate and sustained implementation, these policies are worthless.

 

 

Outside, Looking In

 

The global arena is promising of boundless opportunities now compared a decade or less ago. On October 30, 2006, ASEAN 10 (where Philippines is a pioneering member) and China signed a joint statement to cement strategic partnership, the goal of which is to create by 2010 a Free Trade Area with 1.8 billion people, one-third of the world's population and the largest consumer market on earth. This is in response to the emergence of intensified and highly-competitive liberalization challenges. It would further create a linking support to neighboring Asian countries creating a security blanket from unfair trade practices.

 

The affirmative ratings generated from countless reliable international fiscal organizations have opened new doors and reinvigorated positive perceptions of investors in the country. Presently, we still hold a strong base of call centers and outsourcing companies. And the number has been growing each year. Multinational companies, luxury hotels and developers are more than willing to invest again with the upward trend of improved perceptions on economic reforms and a greater focus on the booming tourism industry.

 

With all the factors involved in a complex equation such as what we have, the breaking pieces of the puzzle can only be whole if all are present to complete it. The thrust to either move backwards (atras) or advance (abante) lies on the robust resolve of its entire components to initiate the movement. Part of the puzzle and its mobility is you and what you do with the resources that you have to make it work.    

 

Your challenge each day is to respond. Your choice: Atras o Abante?

 

Nearly everyone is acquainted with the way Philippine politics work. The fever gets chilling once the countdown starts, usually six months or even a year before the actual exercise happens. Tactics of gargantuan proportions are employed out in the open with no slight consideration for possible casualties. Daily occurrences of coercion and significant display of gold, goons, and guns become the norm. And almost everyone, although aware that these defy legal and moral laws, plays deaf and mute amidst the bloody pursuit for power. Clearly, political apathy figures in the electoral frame.

 

What pushes this passive behavior to permeate the collective consciousness? Who pulls the strings that seem to puppet the populace?

 

Notions and Motions

 

During my volunteer work with the Parish Pastoral Council for Responsible Voting (PPCRV) and Simbahan ng Lingkod Bayan (SLB) Program on elections, I have been greatly exposed to the glaring realities that confront an ordinary voter. Real and raw encounters with the common folks. Housewives, farmers, micro-entrepreneurs, youth leaders, yuppies, out-of-school youth, and differently- able persons gather to share insights on the dynamics of how they vote.

 

It was interesting to note that the responses generated from cluster discussions were similar, if not exactly the same. The criteria of choosing their candidates range from personal traits (educational background/expertise, likeability factor, dependability, previous experiences, etc.) to the vast network of associations (family background, organizations, supported causes, and especially religious affiliations).

 

In general, respondents were initially clear on what they wanted in their public servants. All the good traits were enumerated, the 'ideals', regardless of the respondent's educational attainment or position in the community. But when asked to pick from among the names of running candidates, there was an appalling inconsistency against the traits previously mentioned.

 

The notions or beliefs they hold were in total disarray to the actual choices they made. There was an obvious clash between their ideals and the real steps taken.

 

Platforms or Personalities

 

An overwhelming majority tend to gravitate towards the popular names, regardless of their platforms or expertise in a particular elective position. Celebrities seem to duplicate their star appeal in the voting arena, the public mistaking the characters they play in movies or TV as real representation of their capabilities as future government officials. This is not exclusively rampant in the Philippine's political arena, with no less than the mighty United States taking the lead in capitalizing on Hollywood advantage.

 

When asked why this is so, the respondents were quick to claim that they rather ink the name of a personality than risk losing with the lesser-known, albeit their knowledge of the latter's competence. In this set-up, they believe that popularity, even if it doesn't necessarily equate to efficiency, is an accepted practice to catapulting someone in power. 

 

The pervading sentiment is that if you vote for someone you believe is capable but will definitely have a hard time winning the race, your vote becomes useless. Election is a numbers' game, anyway. Considering the candidate's winnability or lack of it, the best feasible option is to shift to someone with the greater chances at grabbing the post, regardless of previous considerations set. Simply put, you choose as others do. Polls, even rebuffed by many, influence the voting behavior. 

 

 

Crucial in any election is the candidate's platform or a general plan of action. The perfect venue for the platforms is the rally or assembly but nothing close to it takes place in a real miting de avance. Novelty acts, silly song and dance numbers, and massive bombardment of promotional jingles hog the limelight.

 

Cluster discussions revealed that oftentimes; a.) There are really no platform involve in any political undertaking, only prototypes of predecessors, b.) Voters are swamped with promises that glean on individualistic approach of services (traditional binyag-kasal-libing favors), and c.) There is no clear understanding of what a platform is and how this would impact in their day-to-day lives.

 

Platforms and issues take the backseat, most of the times. If there is any serious attempt to flaunt it, it fizzles out as soon as the crowd slowly leaves in unison. To be listened to, a candidate has to infuse entertainment value while baring his stance on issues, or be completely forgotten.

 

The best possible way to cure the political malady is to find what the symptoms are and the culprits responsible for it.

 

Is it the democracy that has been time and again accused of being abused to the hilt? If not for its structure, is it the party system that bank heavily on an expensive toss of power and popularity?

 

 Could it be the media, where subtle campaigns or reportage and cloaked advertorials become a profitable enterprise come election season? How about the candidates themselves who dive into the political pool without adequate knowledge and preparedness?

 

Or is it us that merits the blame? 

 

Sensing that the proliferation of bad news would only bring chaos in my already junk-filled life, I vowed not to watch morning news if I could help it. I told my team to do the same thing. When you’re working for sales, you need a daily dose of affirmative reinforcement. You have to stay an optimist all the time.

 

One morning I happened to press the remote and tuned in to a morning show that had all the reports on previous night’s massacre, shoot-out, petty crimes and a lady throwing her baby from the 10^th floor of a condominium. It hit a nerve in me big time.

 

To some extent, I became partially desensitized with the reports on daily occurrences of killings and traffic mishaps but when I heard the news of lady-throwing-baby act, I wanted to personally look for the mother and throw her out of the window instead.

 

I find it odd for someone to keep a baby in the womb for nine months and then kill it once it decided to get out. I don’t get it. There is no justification left in killing someone who doesn’t have a choice whether he wants a chance at life or not. Not poverty, not religion, not even society’s acceptance.

 

Because when someone decides to have sex, it is his or her choice to use or do away with any protection. And be prepared if that protection fails to serve its purpose. That explains why adults have to make adult decisions. Presupposing that minors were involved, I do not think that young people still subscribe to the notion of old-school kind of engagement. I believe they’ve heard of sex education, AIDS, and teenage pregnancy. Oh wait, condoms and pills were not invented yesterday. I don’t think the mother had the baby at 10.

 

I don’t have to mention that there are hotlines available to help or childless couples who are way too excited to welcome a baby in their homes.

 

That act warrants everyone’s wrath. It was inexcusable, irresponsible, and plainly dumb.

 

 

“If you know that you can’t have that person no matter what you do, then get real…and stop the chase.”

 

 

I could pretend that I am not affected at all when I see her dating someone, or talking about anyone she fancies greatly. I could pretend that it’s perfectly fine to be the convenient cover-up and companion when she needed one. I could pretend that it doesn’t hurt a bit when she doesn’t seem to care what I was going through with her.

 

 I know that even if I morphed into a Hulk and throw mighty tantrums, I still do not have the right to express it because she doesn’t even know. I could have the right to feel whatever assaulting emotion there is inside me, but that does not give me the license to display it. Simply because I do not have the right to express it. And yes I’m repeating myself like a moron because I probably am.

 

Sometimes, there are just too much stakes in getting what we really want and knowing fully well that we could be risking way lot than what were supposed to get.

 

This is one of the few great things that I wanted to have so badly but something that I couldn’t afford to lose if needed be.

 

I’m stopping the chase. I’m getting real.

 

Now, I could do a Hulk and leave the cares for the world to see.

 

Please tell me I deserve it.

 

Stop these boggling mind games that we’re in. Or I am in. Sometimes I think that it’s all one-way. That I’m delusional in thinking that you are also in this set up. Maybe I am really alone. Maybe, it is just me going through the pains and pleasures of feeling you. That clichéd nearness of you. That indestructible perfect moment that you create regardless of my messed up disposition.

 

I have long abandoned being maneuvered and outbalanced by feeling again. Because when I feel, I do stupid things. I say and act things out that surprise me.

 

I have sobered up from the countless shitholes of scrimmaging with love pool. I know I am done with all that crap.

 

I guess that’s another surprise because I am still in that crap zone.

 

Too bad.

 

And way too good at the same time.

 

Seamless contradictions --- what feeling does to me. And why do you do it perfectly? Right at this time, right at this moment when I could very well help a serving of sobriety?

 

Did I spoil our moment?

 

Because I feel you drifting away.

 

Am I suppose to chase you and make you feel it’s okay to be just floating, letting moments speak for the unspoken? Am I alone in making things out of the moments that we shared or the thoughts that we freely discussed?

 

Do I wait to make things fall into their own places? To let the time and space define what we should and shouldn’t have? Should I let you drift away and just let you be?

 

I am done with puzzles.

 

My friends told me I should enjoy feeling again. To not even think of where this is going. Just enjoy the zone that I am in. That feeling. Regardless of what you also feel and how that feeling changes or may change me.

 

That is so selfish. For someone not to share how you are changed by just being near with that someone special.

 

But I think you are being selfish too. For keeping it all to yourself, whatever those things and feelings are.

 

Now, we are in the drifting and feeling selfish zones.

 

In all honesty, I am hating all these.

 

For putting that ridiculous smile on my face when I’m supposed to be acting grumpy and distressed. Panira ka ng diskarte.

 

For allowing you to keep running inside my head when I am supposed to be thinking more about my job, my weight, and my plans. Shit na marathon yan, mukhang walang finish line.

 

For that restless anticipation of waking up and knowing some text message is waiting for me to read. Iba ka, kasi manhid ka.

 

For not knowing how stupid I am for toying ideas of tossing you and me in an equation that might hardly makes sense to you. Epekto ng sobrang pagpupuyat at oo, kasalanan mo kahit wala ka namang kaalam-alam dito.

 

For changing my thoughts on certain things, even when you know fully well that I am notoriously hardheaded as a bull. Malupet ka talaga.

 

For making me see you in a different light, imperfectly perfect and not bother to pick holes on your obvious flaws and idiosyncrasies. Gayuma na yata ‘to.

 

For making me feel good about messing up and letting me know I could always be better doing it once more. Adik ka ba?

 

For letting me write cheesy lines again and surprisingly not feel a bit of shame doing it. Baduy at korni na nga, masaya pa.

 

For letting me accept that one day, on one lucky day, you will know how it is to be enchanted by you, perennially disturbed by restless anticipation of your presence, and exceedingly wanting of being with you every minute of every day.

Kung unrequited man, hindi na masakit pag binigyan mo ko ng thumbs down.

 

For making me love the woman that you are and for making a better man out of me. Ano pa bang meron ka?

 

For making me hate you by doing these to me, but worse than that, for making me love you even more. Ayan, nasabi ko na, tapos ang usapan.

 

Bahala na.

I never knew that there are a lot of things that can be done to man’s hair. From where I came from, there are only three options. First, you keep it short, second, you grow it, or you can opt to shave and lose all of it. You are either classified as conventional or rebellious. That simple.

 

Back then, style is something that comfort will not yield into. You wash and comb or wear a hat. Shampoo is a staple but applying conditioner is time consuming, if not unnecessary. Pomade is tolerable when one is going to a special occasion or a town dance. Gels and waxes are unheard of, and even if styling solutions are available, no one would dare put chemicals on the hair needlessly. Not from the herd I came from.

 

I, myself, used to sport Beatles’ apple haircut until I finished grade school. The reason behind it, according to my maternal grandmother, was my funny ears. It looked like deformed, instead of it being curved inside, my ears are pushed all the way out. So, I always had the bangs and the covered ears.

 

Later on, I realized that people have the right to have their hair cut the way they want it to be. Or refuse to let any razor touch it. That’s the time I discovered that I could hear and feel the air better without my side hair covering my ears. It was also the end of treating my ears the funny extensions of me, definitely a long-time source of insecurity I would later observe. 

 

I have gone bald, long, short, Mohawk, colored, and damaged by hair products ever since. Now, I couldn’t go out without my hair treated with hair wax if I am to avoid looking like a squirrel. The harm had been done and now I’m trying to fix it by going back old style. None of the fancy cuts you see in papers today. Nor the apple haircut that I had to endure in my entire childhood.

 

Just the simple one-sided cut every ordinary folk sports since the scissors were invented. No fuss. Wash, dry, and I’m good to go.

 

Some interesting surveys:

42%

Percentage of women who say the first thing they notice about a man is his hair

– MEN’S HEALTH/COSMOPOLITAN Online Survey

 

 

How much are you willing to spend on a haircut, including tip?

Below PhP100 : 36%

PhP 101-300 : 42%

PhP 301-700    : 17%

PhP 701-1,000 : 4%

Over PhP1,000: 1%

 

 

84%

 Percentage of women who say unibrow is a turnoff (second only to bad breath)

– MEN’S HEALTH/COSMOPOLITAN Online Survey

 

 

Source: Men’s Health Philippines Magazine

I am growing old.

 

It’s a welcome change.

 

Strange as it may be for some, but I have been running after age, impatiently wishing I could advance and skip years ahead of me. I wanted to age so badly.

 

When I was a little younger, I’d only wear slacks and totally abandon the concept of denims, especially the tattered kind. I would prefer loose collared, short-sleeved, checkered shirts than a shirt for a casual get-up. I had the prescribed correctional eyeglasses to complement the look, while my hair is pimped with loads of hair gel to last a thousand fold of typhoons.

 

For a time, at age 17, everyone thought I was 29, married or hiding a child out of wedlock from somewhere.

 

I never really bothered. I thought everyone my age acted childish, trivial, and excruciatingly pained trying to look cool.

 

            I was always in a hurry to get things done and learn as much as I could. Time is something I valued and to beat it was my ultimate goal.

 

People would tell me I look and (sometimes) think way beyond my age. I bask in the compliment each time. I feel that, in a way, I’m becoming successful at ageing myself, something that deserves a firm pat on my back.

 

I think I am growing older each day.

 

I am glad it’s finally happening.

 

We live in a world where opinions matter. Where perceptions, no matter how slanted they may be, shape reality.

 

We grew up thinking (assuming you have conventional parents such as what I have) that we’re worth a lot, regardless of our appearances, choices of clothes or companions and buckets of flaws. Especially with our flaws.

 

Yet, these beliefs are easily crushed when we reach our puberty and whatever anyone says seems to count. We start to notice that we’re slightly moronic than the rest, geeky than the most, and less likely appealing than all of our friends combined.

 

That certainty that we hold on, that self-awareness which we consider our potent shield from the onslaught of society’s nitpicking, that monumental defense wrought by indelible affirmation of loved ones (which could be treated as physiologically embedded in time), is razed by  fire, grounded to the ashes.

 

Suddenly, we are confronted with the realities that eluded us when we were busy flying kites, chasing the casts of clouds, or counting the stars at night. We are thrust in a world of benchmarks: the strongest against the weakest, comfort against style, character against caricature.

 

As we struggle to belong in a world that patronizes conformity and completely shuns individuality, a world where uniqueness is equated to the imposed standard of likeness, a world where being cool means looking hot, a world where there is emptiness in abundance, a world where chaos is peace, we recoil to a sphere of anonymity--- as if guarded heavily by the identities birthed by necessity.  

 

Unconsciously, WE create another US, formed in the image and fondness of the world that cradles superficiality and values misconceptions rather than genuine realities.

  

In a world where what matters doesn’t matter at all.

There’s a shitload of stuff that overwhelm me at this point.

 

For one, I have been forgetting things, dates, and names. The other day, I was texting my friend like crazy just to ask if we’re off to Ponti for the party. Only to be reminded that the party’s not on until the weekend. I also recently picked a habit of interchanging people’s names. I had been reminded of that for more than five times in just a single conversation. At one point, I even called someone my own name!

 

Talk about floating. My thoughts these days are doing just that. I could be chatting with someone while gorging a meal, and I’ll be caught in a trance-like state as if I was vacuumed in an invisible bubble. All along, I seemed to be engaged in semi-zorbing, only this time I don’t think I was having fun being disconnected to what was actually going on outside. Disturbed by myriad of thoughts, I was told that I looked like subtly possessed, throwing responses with a disconcerting facial expression. Definitely, not a very good comment.

 

I’ve been hitting my irritability scale too often in a day that I suspect I may die of heart attack even before I reach 40 if this continues. A single mark off the charts, an errand left undone, a call unreturned, a lame remark, I’d instantaneously jump off my equilibrium bench and sabotage the health of my heart (which is not to say that it’s been sabotaged already for such a long time) to let my anger out.

 

The fact that I am sleeping early now is, in itself, a cause of alarm. I was born insomniac, nursed and fed it all throughout 26 years. No matter how I resist dozing off before, I’d still hit the sack way before my usual 3am biological sleep time. The time gets reversed in merely a brief period of time. That’s a scary occurrence, I tell you.

 

I also developed an odd fixation at compulsively buying books, fully knowing that I don’t have the time to read them. I’d stack and start browsing, then refuse to finish the entire thing even if I would’ve wanted to. Even if my time could afford it. It’s as if I struggle to compensate for an inadequacy that’s hard to pinpoint anyway.

 

I don’t really know if this is a sign of aging or I’m just in dire need of a vacation, something that I could not afford and something that I don’t think I deserve right now. It could be because I have been adjusting to my being the boss for the first time while trying to tie up the loose ends of new recruits.

 

I am drowning from all of these.

 

Someone take me to Utopia now.

 

I swear I’ll be a good boy. Really.

What could you have said when I…

 

…hop jobs as quickly as blinking your eyes?

…overindulge eating and not doing anything to lose the pounds?

…eat often in fancy restaurants and drink at pricey bars?

…splurge with my gadgets and ask Mom for some to settle the bills?

…couldn’t pay you visit because I had a job to cover?

…miss Mass to watch movie or just while my time away?

…choose knock-offs over branded items?

…stress out the small stuff?

…let my rage rule in public?

…had to listen but refused to do it anyway?

…skipped the Boards and went selling full-throttle?

…didn’t try to pursue Law, either from your choices of Ateneo or U.P.?

…choose a brand new car over a used one?

…favor living in a condo than in a conventional hub, like an apartment for instance?

…insinuate that your being ultra-generous might be hurting your pockets already?

…rattle off words of disgust to your ‘friends’, who turned out to be foes?

…forget to greet you on your birthday?

…forget you, especially during April Fool’s?

…forget to bring the coffee-aroma candles, the way I think you like me to?

 

It’s been five years, Pop.

 

Five years is not enough.

 

Feels like eternity but everything’s still fresh.

 

Everything.

 

Make me remember and never to forget.

 

I hope you are watching us from Up There, the way we all believe you do.

My endless fascination and worship of food has finally sealed its existence in my slightly obese frame.

 

Almost mocking me, taunting my illicit affairs with carbs and after-drinks gorging, I have now become a space consumer, edging hordes of flesh to imbalance and nasty references to accidental discomfort that I obliviously cause them.

 

Ahh, what a life!

 

Interesting and biting…

 

It’s time to drop the excesses and buckle up…soon.

 

I don’t understand why people do not like losing.

 

Growing up losing all the time and placing second-rate at the end of the school year (for most part of grade school), I’ve naturally found a certain comfort zone in not becoming a winner. Not that I haven’t been pressured to do well but there was a level of security in knowing that I don’t have to match anyone else’s expectations but mine. And my standards weren’t really that high. Expectedly so.

 

My elder brother Oking had consistently shown superiority over academics and athletics. With a brother lording over both spectrums of pursuits, I was left alone to cover other bases and follow his lead, if ever I could even cope up. No, there was never a sibling rivalry. There was some sort of “sibling superiority”. I didn’t really mind.

 

So there it happened, I naturally grown into the role of a follower. Ribbons pinned at the end of the year and I would brim with joy as I land the second among a class of 30 or so. Early on, I already know the feeling of being at the backseat and I have come to accept it at a young age. There was no remorse or any display of behavioral dissent. I immersed into the niche I supposedly belonged to.

 

Placing first has seldom come in my life. I could recall the first time I joined a contest. I was barely five years old and I was pitted against the older-bred of promising illustrators. I didn’t know that a really bad interpretation of abstract art for a flag would be such a losing style in grade school contests. I lost but held on to believing that I could do well in some other things.

 

To claim that I was popular in high school because of my academic competence or known alliances is a big, fat lie. I was known because of my looks. Yes, my looks. Not in a very good way, though. Considered a landmark, everyone was familiar who I was. When I shed the fats off, I recoiled to anonymity and blissful oblivion.

 

My first streak at winning came in the latter part. Ironically, I won an overwhelming majority, a landslide according to most of the voters that catapulted me to the status of an overnight albeit reluctant leader of the biggest club at campus. The first time to be on top. That’s when I realized that taking the back seat for too long has proven to be of great use. The years of following has prepared me to a life of leading.

 

Alternately, I tempted the shores of success and failure with my adventurous nature. The year after, I was the only one who lost from the student council’s almost-straight win party victory. Of course it was a devastating loss. It made worse by friends who took pity at the loss.

 

College was the same, but only better. After topping the freshmen’s club elections, I lost in a couple of months when I ran for the council’s post. Many would’ve called it quits, but a man used to beating could not easily give up. Because what is worse than losing? I bet not losing again.

 

After two semesters, I was back in the campaign scene. Only this time, I was more determined, I worked harder. I won against a campus heartthrob and an activist. I thought I had my winning streak at hand. But I had it all wrong.

 

When I ran again as the party’s presidential bet, I lost. What a hard loss it was. History repeated itself. From among the Executive Committee posts, I was the only one from the party who did not win. Again.

 

I sulked and blamed everyone, including myself. I withdrew from the crowd, refused to meet with friends, and became all-too defensive when asked how I was coping.

 

I shut my door to trying again. Although I knew that losing is inevitable, I could not reconcile that I had to endure it most of the time. Winning is an ever elusive state that simply dares yet never does it bare. At least not to me.

 

But there comes a point in life that while you’re in your lowest, there’s nothing much that you can do but get up and try again. Because it is also not easy to wake up each day and feel sorry for messing up.

 

There’s a part of you that struggles tremendously against the forces of self-defeat and submissiveness. You just have to get up and start the fight.

 

I found the best way to cope with losing in school through debating matches. Debate tempered my resistance to losing and intensified my desire to win. Not against my opponents, but against myself. I had to defy the tricks I have been playing against myself.

 

Debate grounded me and made me discover about the patterns I had been doing that contributed to my failures. Opponents of inferior or superior skills were reminders of how hard work and perseverance can be vital in changing the outcome of the match. How important it is to focus and makes winning the only goal. No other option--- just win!

 

Fears can be real and imagined. Since it is both, fear can either be embraced or shattered. The choice lies in me. Will I let intimidation get the better of me or will I be bold and face the wrath of my opponents? Or emerge scathed but victorious?

 

To say that I never lost after uncovering those realizations is such a delusional attempt at self-preservation. In fact, I lost a lot more. I also won some more.

 

My team suffered a heartbreaking defeat from unknown debaters the first time I competed, but I took two trophies home by bagging the coveted Best Debater and Best Speaker awards. The first time I went Nationals, Johann, an unconventionally brilliant debate partner, almost whopped my ass for stuttering nonstop, throwing contradicting arguments, and placing last for the initial round.

 

At the end of the tournament, however, we sent home veterans wailing protests and bickering against each other when our team ranked among the top 16, the first for a provincial team in the history of Nationals, a feat unmatched in our school’s record until now.

 

What is so good in losing? Is there really winning in losing?

 

I like losing a lot because it makes winning special. Winning after a series of losses is the best healing experience.

 

Losing teaches me to change things that I could, accept things that I could not, and show others that they could. My loss is someone else’s win. My win is a wake-up call for someone to work harder and be better.

 

I like losing because it reminds me that winning is possible. That winning is not a one-time goal but a continuous yearning and journey.

 

Unlike other people, I like losing.

 

Because losing is not failing.

 

Not trying is.

 

Bizarrely cool.

 

It went exactly the way I pictured it.

 

Morning was well-spent in meetings and tailing people to work before the month hits its half. I realized I am morphing into a worry wart when I started with this job. Not that I detest the workload. On the contrary, I find the new environment promising.

 

That’s exactly what keeps me in my toes. 

 

February 14 passed me by just like any other day.

 

That is unusually special.

 

 

Or the thin lining that barely hangs in consciousness --- apparently what’s left of it, somehow.