Yes, that's right. After more than two months of "silence", I am back to writing blogs and getting updated about my friends and not friends. What can I say, I have been busy with work---countless meetings, writing stuffs (the serious, sometimes boring kind of stuffs), emceeing here and there (which I realized is another career option should I bang my head and suddenly decide to leave NGO work, scary eh), etc.
I wouldn't really be writing about what happened to me in the last couple of months that I was out of the loop. Rather, I'll write about my experience last night.
You must have heard the news that a big fire razed more than 100 structures in barangays San Antonio and Santa Cruz. Well, I live nearby. Our apartment is in the corner of D. Jakosalem and R. Landon Streets.
When I heard about the blaze from my neighbor, I didn't panic just yet because I didn't see the commotion outside. Then, curiosity struck me. I went out and saw the black smoke just a few meters from my place. I walked further and saw the angry flames. I started to panic. Reinforcing the feeling were the irresponsible pieces of information like the firefighters had given up on what looked like an inextinguishable blaze (what?!*@#$^), all the responding firetrucks had run out of water (darn fire department!*@#&^), blah-blah-blah.
I went back in the apartment and started packing things. I tried so hard to remember the most important things...those whose absence would make life miserable. However, I just couldn't remember what those things were. I examined my closet and for a moment, I thought of packing all my favorite blouses and shirts. Then I realized that if I started packing a couple of favorite blouses, I would have to pack the pairs of jeans that were perfect for them...then the brassieres that were perfect for the blouses... the panties that were perfect for the jeans (FYI, some jeans require low-cut panties while others need mid-cut ones)...and finally, the shoes or sandals that were perfect for the whole get-up. I dropped the thought because I knew that in the end, I would be packing the entire closet. Besides, I couldn't find a big bag. I just packed. Period.
I sat down in the sala and started texting my flatmates, who, at that time, must be in lala-land because they were out of reach (of all days?!!!).
After more than an hour, the fire was put out. Now here's the interesting thing---I had to unpack. I regretted a little bit for panicking and listening to the gossips, but for a great part, I was thankful that the situation was under control.
I had four "packs", i.e., 1) my bag for the day which contained my wallets, planner, IDs, passport and kikay kit, 2) laptop, 3) plastic folder which contained important documents, and 4) a huge SM plastic bag which contained two pairs of jeans, two shirts (not my favorite), the two dresses Victor gave me, loads of panties, all my bras (???!!!), piggy (the only stuff toy Victor gave me) and hippo (my sister's stuff toy, a gift from her boyfriend).
I was (and still am) amazed how incidents like that reveal something about oneself. My "packs" revealed what are the essential things for me and to a certain extent, who are the important people in my life. It also revealed a little bit about my vanity.
More importantly, I realized that I (we) don't really need a lot of material things to survive. Last night, I was willing to let go of everything I acquired over the years (the apartment has been my home for 12 years now). All I prayed was that, should the fire reach our place, my flatmates and I would all be safe.
-------
My heart goes out to all the fire victims, especially Fr. Oca and his adopted kids. Let us all give something. Fr. Oca, in particular, needs clothes for children aged one to four years. You may drop your assistance at FORGE.
I wouldn't really be writing about what happened to me in the last couple of months that I was out of the loop. Rather, I'll write about my experience last night.
You must have heard the news that a big fire razed more than 100 structures in barangays San Antonio and Santa Cruz. Well, I live nearby. Our apartment is in the corner of D. Jakosalem and R. Landon Streets.
When I heard about the blaze from my neighbor, I didn't panic just yet because I didn't see the commotion outside. Then, curiosity struck me. I went out and saw the black smoke just a few meters from my place. I walked further and saw the angry flames. I started to panic. Reinforcing the feeling were the irresponsible pieces of information like the firefighters had given up on what looked like an inextinguishable blaze (what?!*@#$^), all the responding firetrucks had run out of water (darn fire department!*@#&^), blah-blah-blah.
I went back in the apartment and started packing things. I tried so hard to remember the most important things...those whose absence would make life miserable. However, I just couldn't remember what those things were. I examined my closet and for a moment, I thought of packing all my favorite blouses and shirts. Then I realized that if I started packing a couple of favorite blouses, I would have to pack the pairs of jeans that were perfect for them...then the brassieres that were perfect for the blouses... the panties that were perfect for the jeans (FYI, some jeans require low-cut panties while others need mid-cut ones)...and finally, the shoes or sandals that were perfect for the whole get-up. I dropped the thought because I knew that in the end, I would be packing the entire closet. Besides, I couldn't find a big bag. I just packed. Period.
I sat down in the sala and started texting my flatmates, who, at that time, must be in lala-land because they were out of reach (of all days?!!!).
After more than an hour, the fire was put out. Now here's the interesting thing---I had to unpack. I regretted a little bit for panicking and listening to the gossips, but for a great part, I was thankful that the situation was under control.
I had four "packs", i.e., 1) my bag for the day which contained my wallets, planner, IDs, passport and kikay kit, 2) laptop, 3) plastic folder which contained important documents, and 4) a huge SM plastic bag which contained two pairs of jeans, two shirts (not my favorite), the two dresses Victor gave me, loads of panties, all my bras (???!!!), piggy (the only stuff toy Victor gave me) and hippo (my sister's stuff toy, a gift from her boyfriend).
I was (and still am) amazed how incidents like that reveal something about oneself. My "packs" revealed what are the essential things for me and to a certain extent, who are the important people in my life. It also revealed a little bit about my vanity.
More importantly, I realized that I (we) don't really need a lot of material things to survive. Last night, I was willing to let go of everything I acquired over the years (the apartment has been my home for 12 years now). All I prayed was that, should the fire reach our place, my flatmates and I would all be safe.
-------
My heart goes out to all the fire victims, especially Fr. Oca and his adopted kids. Let us all give something. Fr. Oca, in particular, needs clothes for children aged one to four years. You may drop your assistance at FORGE.
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