Supersized Paranoia. To Go, Please.

As I was going home last Friday night, I noticed a woman wearing a black burkha (you know that head garment that basically covers the whole head and has only a slit for the eyes) sitting in the innermost part of the jeepney. Because she was dressed in dark colors, it was easy to miss her but once you'd seen her, it was impossible to ignore her. At first I was curious so I watched her. And because she was covered from head to toe save for her eyes and hands, there was that sense of watching something that could not watch back.

And then I got paranoid.

Thoughts flashed: She could be a holdupper pretending to be a Muslim so she could cover her face!

I watched even more.

The two women across from me were talking. One said, "Teka kinakabahan ako. Parang gusto ko na bumaba. (Wait, this is making me nervous. I think I want to get off.)" Friend replied, "Tara, baba na tayo. (Let's get off here.)"

Now that's mean, I thought.

I watched the woman some more. That's a pretty big bag. Wait, where's her hand? What's inside her bag? What if her hand's inside her bag, fingering a gun that she would point at us at just precisely the right time? What if she's a suicide bomber? What if she's not even a she?

Know that I am paranoid by nature. Compound that with the fact that everyday I read about attempted terrorist attacks, real or imagined. Really, it's like breakfast: a bus exploded in Shanghai. Pfft. A woman was reportedly caught with inflammable liquid onboard a flight going to Beijing. Um, is it time for lunch now?

Still I fought the urge to get off the jeepney. I was not going to discriminate against people of a different faith. I was not going to be mean to this innocent woman who did nothing wrong to me nor to anyone I know. I was not going to be one of those ignorant... wa-wait, I was not going to be in the headlines the next day!

Just make your hands visible, lady. Please. There, there. One, two. Two hands in sight. Ok, maybe five more minutes before my stop. Eyes on the hands...

Yes. Yes, I know. I am very, very ashamed of myself. I should not be thinking these thoughts.

I tried not to breathe an audible sigh of relief when we got to my stop. I got off the jeepney then walked fast. Away before it could explode.

Of course it did not explode and I berated myself even more.

And then she was there with me again on the jeepney last night. I was sitting beside the driver. I turned around and there she was right behind the driver.

The fact that nothing terroristic happened the last time should have been enough reassurance that nothing would happen again this time. But I could see her dark presence out of the corner of my left eye. And I couldn't keep watch of the hands this time.

And so I am here confirming that no jeepney was bombed last night.

And I am very, very, very ashamed of myself. Please forgive me.

Biting into the China Cake

I am taking a break from writing my special report on China's social unrest to retain my sanity. At least whatever's left of it. If you remember how it was back in school, two weeks before the final paper is due, then you'd have a fairly good idea how I feel every time. At best. Because unlike being in school where you have the whole term or at least half the term to fret about what to write, I have all of two weeks. And my heart would beat even faster as the days start passing me by...

As if that wasn't bad enough, I now also write special reports on top of the regular reports. It's like another term paper, only the deadline is more flexible. But not too much because then it would never get written. That's what I'm doing now: making sure it gets written. But then what's so special about it is that its scope is usually wider and the information more detailed. So I'm trying to work those in, aside from just getting it written.

The sense of intimidation emanates from the fact that I have only quite recently started serious reading of Chinese affairs. Every time I approach a topic, I would have at least 30 pages of research (font 9 because I want to save as much paper as I could) to read through before I can confidently convince myself that I know enough of it to write a credible article. And that's still only little crumbs of a much bigger cake that is China itself. Five thousand years of civilization! Can anyone blame me for feeling inadequate? I am always just trying to catch up at best.

And so everyday I calm my nerves enough to take a little bite and chew what I could handle. Never mind that it terrifies me to read about, we're not even talking about writing yet, inflation and how the yuan's rise impact the lives of both foreign investors and ordinary Chinese. Never mind that I didn't even know where Tibet was on the map previous to the riots that erupted there in March. Never mind that I could not identify more than half of the African countries China is now dealing with if not because of an article I had to write about the Sino-African relations.

And then comes the confession. Some masochistic part of me enjoys this biweekly torture. Maybe precisely because it reminds me of school. Or maybe because I am genuinely interested in the readings, except more often than not I wasn't made aware of their existence until I was already chewing on them. Or maybe I really am just a masochist.

And so break's over. Time to cram for my term paper due tomorrow.

Weekend Goal

So I was hanging out at the Mindstorm office, leafing through an old issue of Time Magazine... It's weird but everything I do now has to be related to China somehow. I couldn't help but leaf through Time and see if I could find anything on China that I might be able to use some time in the future. It feels like I learned so much about China these past two and a half months than at any time in my life.

But that's not really the point of this entry. I got sidetracked as early as the second sentence. So going back, I was leafing through Time and I saw a blurb about Miranda July's book. I didn't even know she has a book. I greatly enjoyed two films that I saw by her so that got me excited. Plus the blurb said, "The lives of misfits told in quirky, almost unbearably intense short stories." And then I suddenly missed writing.

Following that was a conversation with Artie how we also want to write intense stories. Unbearable ones, too. Sigh.

So I'm gonna try and write a short story this weekend. Hopefully, an unbearably intense one. I owe myself that much.

Life Update

It has occurred to me that my poor neglected Multiply has not had a single entry for almost two months now. My social calendar, too, does not seem to see much activity these days. It being a Friday night, I have decided to (no, not have a social life but something better!) update my blog!! Nothing exciting to report, really, except that I know my two readers out there are curious about what I've been up to so here goes:

• I've transferred jobs, which most of you already know. Yeah, no big surprises there being the Touch-and-Go job-hopper Joni that I am. As a result of the new job, I am now very knowledgeable about all things Chinese. Okay, maybe not all. Let's just put it this way: on any given day, I would have read scores and scores of articles on China and whatever current issue is plaguing it. That is not an exaggeration.
  
• I've started working out. In a week, I exercise about two or three times before going to work in addition to the two yoga classes that I attend. I like the painfully sweet feeling of sore muscles healing.
  
• I joined the Women's Groups march denouncing GMA's leadership in Mendiola on International Women's Day and almost got into an ugly fight with the police. Well, it would have turned ugly if I hadn't controlled myself.
  
• I got myself an ipod. I know, I know. That's really quite extravagant of me but sigh. Now I'm trying to find the time to fill in 80gb of memory! Send me songs! TV shows or movies! Whatever! Just send them to me please.
  
• I went beaching in Bataan and shopping in Subic with family on Holy Saturday (is that what it's called?). As usual, Baby Iel took the spotlight with her super cute and kikay poses. I'm still waiting for her mom to post the pictures... *hint hint.
• I got myself a stalker. Not that I intentionally planned to have one but it was, as most things in my life, because of my stupidity that this little episode in my life had to happen. Notice that I used the past tense, hopeful that the fact that he neither called nor texted today means he has given up and I will very soon be able to look back and laugh at this. Details will be given when that time has come when I am already laughing about it. Be patient.
  

So there. Now give me updates on your lives. I never seem to see anyone anymore.

A Country in Desperate Need of a Hero

Even the most hardened pessimist could not help but hope that perhaps, Jun Lozada can be that guy who can finally expose the Arroyo administration for what it really is: corrupt and self-serving. Because hell, we all know that it IS corrupt, but so far, not even coups had managed to topple it down.

I first heard of the ZTE controversy when JDV III cried foul, exchanged heated words with FG Arroyo, then promptly left the country. I am not especially fond of JDV and his clan but even then, I believed JDV III. One, he is the lesser of two evils (come on, FG has horns!) and two, he would not have had the courage to go against the administration if he weren't telling the truth. I was hoping for a showdown. A let's-say-bad-things-about-each-other-until-we're-blue-in-the-face. That would have been so much better than any soap ever produced. But then it died down.

And then Jun Lozada comes along. I cannot follow the live telecast of the Senate investigation that started last Friday so I had to content myself with checking the Inquirer every so often. Like everyone, I had to hold my breath fearing that Lozada might get cold feet and refuse to talk. After all, it happened with his friend Neri before. But Lozada did not disappoint.

As expected, Arroyo's allies are now pouncing on Lozada's credibility. Again, anyone willing to go against the president's hubby already has credibility points in my book. Strangely enough, the very things they're throwing at him and should supposedly make him unreliable are the things that make him more believable.

I believe Jun Lozada because he does not paint himself a saint. He admits to his own irregularities while he was serving as President of the Philippine Forest Corporation under DENR. He admits to giving out projects and deals that did not go through the proper biddings. He admits to advising Abalos (I've always hated that prick) to lower his commission because "bubukol ang $130M." He admits to flying to HK to evade the Senate investigation. He is every bit a person who gets tempted, follows his bosses (he was asked to "moderate their greed." Abalos' greed, of course, knows no moderation.), fears for his life but is now capable of telling the truth as it really is.

In a country where heroes are always lacking, the likes of Jun Lozada surface from time to time. For now it's enough to keep the rest of us afloat.

Pacific Strategies & Assessments

http://www.psagroup.com
Now it can be told.

I applied for and got a job at the abovementioned company. I’ll be a researcher/analyst which is basically a writer and I’ll be starting with them on the 16th of the month. My focus will be on Chinese affairs and after being on training and being comfortable with the job while based in Manila for about a year, I will have the option to be transferred to Shanghai. While in Manila, I will hold office at the Enterprise, Tower I, a stone’s throw away—if you throw it hard enough—from my present office.

To answer anticipated questions, here is the series of events that led to this seemingly sudden development in my life:

I think it was on my birthday when Evonne suddenly sent me a message asking how I was. You may remember Evonne as my grade school classmate whom I lost touch with then met up with again while I was in Shanghai. She then told me of an opening in their company. Because I was fairly happy with my present employment, I was a bit hesitant about applying. We agreed that I was to send my resume and take it from there.

Turned out that my resume was interesting enough for them to want to schedule me for a preliminary interview. Flashback: Remember that there was a birthday date, which went pretty well. Fast forward to two days after when the date and I first agreed to stop seeing each other. The depression led me to be excited about the job prospect. I then started to seriously pursue it. And because I now wanted it, I had to evaluate my chances of getting it. My issues were fluency in Mandarin and inadequate knowledge of Chinese politics, economics, etc. But I was on fighting stance. Pity anyone who dared get in my way.

First interview went well. I was pretty confident about the writing test before and while taking it, but had praning thoughts after. You see I had a lot of time left but being the confident prick that I was, I said, "ok I’m done," without rereading and revising until the end of the one-hour test. Naturally, I had to pay for that cockiness while I was on my way home. Thankfully, my article wasn’t really as bad as my praning mind tortured itself to believe.

Next step was an interview with the big boss and a phone conversation in Mandarin with a local Chinese. Vowing to charm the boss into hiring me, I psyched myself up to be Ms. Personality days before the interview. I think I was successful despite Murphy's Law coming into play: it was the first day of my period. The conversation in Mandarin was a different story. It went smoothly during the first three-quarters, but hit a roadblock when the voice on the other end said something long and complicated. I had it repeated a number of times but I still couldn’t understand most of what it was saying. Sensing annoyance from the voice after having repeated itself so many times, I just said yes in the end. I wanted to hit my head on the wall after that.

I was, however, comforted by the fact that the boss said he did not expect my Chinese to be on the same level as his staff in Shanghai and said the same to the voice before he gave me the phone. In effect he was telling the voice to go easy on me and that boosted my fighting spirit.

The hardest part was the waiting. They were still interviewing other candidates so I waited more than a week. I finally found out that I was in while in the hospital.

I already filed for my resignation and am scheduled to be here until the end of the month. You may have noticed an overlapping period. I must let you know that I will be relying mostly on my Superwoman abilities to do two or more things simultaneously. To let you in on the secret, it's actually an illusion. I do things so fast that normal people think I'm in two places, doing two things at the same time. It's really just the speed, just the speed.

(But the mosquito is faster.)

Approximately a year from now, do visit me in Shanghai. There are direct flights from Manila. No excuses this time.

My Dengue Experience

Some of you may have noticed my sudden and prolonged absence in cyberworld. Most of the time, such absences of mine are usually brought about by either laziness or simple lack of material to write about. Or both. This time, however, is a bit different: I had dengue fever.

It started out innocently enough. Muscle and joint pains that I thought was just me being plain lazy. And slight fever, which wasn't really all that unusual if you're me. I called in sick the next day, a Friday, to sleep it all off. Sleep is usually my cure-all, from dry and ugly skin to colds and fevers to headaches and heartaches. So I slept. But instead of feeling better, I kept feeling worse. I had a headache so painful I actually briefly entertained the thought that it might be brain cancer. Oh and dengue also went as a passing thought but you know, it's something that happens to other people... Not very unlike brain cancer, actually. By nighttime, my housemate Brian bought me a couple of Biogesics and like miracle, everything disappeared after about fifteen minutes of taking a tablet. Biogesic lang pala ang katapat.

Armed with more Biogesics, I even reported for work on Saturday morning. I promptly went home and slept after though and if not for the magical tablets, I would have been rendered absolutely dysfunctional. And because the fever returned every time the effect of the drug wore off, I asked Nuna to get me some antibiotics. In the meantime, I researched about dengue. I had all the symptoms: severe headache, fever, muscle and joint pains. No rashes, however. The articles did say that sometimes there are no rashes. That did it. Armed with my overnight stuff, Nuna and Binbin brought me to St Clare's Medical Center on Dian St.

I had a platelet count of 181. Low but still normal. The next day, we went back for another test. My platelet count had dropped to 129. Panic ensued. But only between Nuna and me. Everyone else was calm. We took a cab and transferred to Chinese General Hospital where the place at least was a bit familiar. Again, except for the two of us, nobody seemed to think that there was an emergency. And there I was thinking I was about to die any minute.

But I didn't. I survived four days in the hospital, with needles constantly drawing blood from me. These were days when the only news that was of any importance was how low my platelet count had dropped. I had to drink bottles and bottles of gatorade and was to stay away from dark colored food. And I finally understood something I always wondered about in the past.

I never could understand why people always complained about hospital food, until I had to eat it myself. I used to think of it as something akin to airplane food, which I kind of like but everyone else seemed to hate. But while food on the plane is a part of all the excitement brought about by travel and adventure, the food in the hospital represented my total helplessness, immobility  and weakness. On the first night that I was faced with the cold and tasteless meal, I teared up, looked at Nuna and said, "I feel so kawawa." Nuna bought me wanton mami from Chowking.

Although my platelet was not stable, it did not go lower than 129. The lowest while I was already in the hospital was 152 and that's still within the normal range which is 450-150. I was finally discharged on Thursday. I still feel weak. And I might have gotten thinner. And I tire easily. Plus I got my heart broken again, for the gazillionth time. But hey, I'm alive.