MISTERYOSA.COM ARCHIVES

Bloggers’ Kapihan 3.0 has come and gone. All thanks to Mr. Dohn Nalumen Jr. of Kape Tasyo, Bayan Muna Rep. Satur Ocampo, Cristina Palabay of Gabriela, and all the attendees for the support.

Vencer did live blogging while I did live twittering (well, I tried). Hot damn that was hard! I easily lost focus on things partly because Robby was badgering me all the time. Blah. Tonyo released a press statement shortly after.

After the event, brother and I went to Gateway to meet up with our mom. I finally got to spend the Rustan’s gift certificate my dad gave me last year, and what better item to spend it on than a pair of new sandals from Havaianas? My first Havaianas, actually. I had to settle with the it because everything in Rustan’s was overpriced and absolutely way out of my league (both in size and price, haha). I could feed a family for a week with my goddamn slippers. How frigging unnerving. Imagine stepping on a thousand-peso cake.

Moving on…So my mom and brother and I waited for my dad at Seafood Island. This time around, we ordered the Bento Boodle – a classic feast of tuna sashimi, tofu nuggets, miso soup, salmon belly teriyaki, crab tempura, beef yakiniku, pork tonkatsu, chicken teriyaki, sauteed vegetables, and Japanese fried rice – all for PhP660. The order is good for three to four people, but we still had a little difficulty licking the leaf plate clean like this one. And agaaaiiiinnnn :rolleyes: :rolleyes: :rolleyes: when I tried to order Piña Colada, the guy inspected me and told me it’s an alcoholic drink.

Like, really! Do they do that all the time?!

Now where am I?

Oh, yeah. The title of the post.

My brother’s feeling a bit sick (no doubt because of his kakulitan) so my dad went to fetch the car instead of all of us going at the parking lot. And just when my mom and I were about to get in, mom heard meows…coming from under the vehicle. At first we couldn’t find the damned cat that was doing all the meowing. After a few minutes parked in front of the restaurant looking like complete idiots, looking for an invisible meowing cat, the security guard of Seafood Island approached us and asked what was wrong. A couple of eras later, a black kitten finally emerged and ran off to where the car was parked earlier. Like hey, we could have catnapped a damn black kitten!

And to think that if my mother’s hearing ability was a little less sharper, the poor kitten would’ve been home with us, if not poor-kitty dead.

It’s one of those things that I seem to cannot do properly at all. No wonder I’m a loner most of the time. I wish I could blame my lack of friends to the fact that I’ve transfered from one school to another ever since I was in grade school, but really, it’s…me.

Excuse my confusing musings. Allow me to chronicle my life here.

My “best friends” in elementary were Nikki Cruz and Cristina Roque. Nikki and I had a falling out when she told Ace that I was crushing on him, and it’s because she was crushing on him too. Ahh, complicatedly funny, eh? Cristina, however, was an awesome person. We both liked R. L. Stine, Christopher Pike, and Nancy Drew books. We exchanged letters (and I mean with stamped envelopes) though we saw each other everyday. I also got friendly with “the elite” people in class. We were inseparable, until the time when my family moved to Quezon City.

Of course I had to transfer to a QC school — my brother’s current school. Fifth grade. I was well-received by the people, they liked me, I liked them, we were happy, blah blah blah. I was even doing well, acads-wise. I had formed a tight bond with some “quiet” people in my class, and we’d visit each other’s houses from time to time. That changed in high school.

Only five in my school passed the entrance examination in this certain secondary school where everyone was hoping to get into. It was hard for me, making new acquaintances in a school where competition and plastikan were the keys to success. I wasn’t happy, but I was lucky enough to find few good people who were down-to-earth in spite of their achievements. My second year was ultimately better; I found Farina, Carmina, Angeli and Rachel, and we were all in the Top 10 of the class. Third year was awful. I got used and abused by a certain monster who back-stabbed and abandoned me in the most trying part of my life (read: serious family problem).

Quit school for a year. The principal of the school asked me to continue my last year in high school there. I refused. I left home, got accepted into a relatively well-known school, and continued my education. Was a damn good student, except for the part where I incurred many absences, enough for the school to kick my ass just for the first trimester (for the record, I was absent more than half of the school year). But they didn’t, said I was a gem (just because I aced my exams despite my absences; was highest in some of them even), and patted me on the back. That being said, some people got friendly with me. You know, to get answers during quizzes and exams. For the first time in my life, I cheated. Haha. It was fun though. I had few close friends, but they were all great, so no complaints there.

College? Started out fun, wore off in the middle, and now gone. Good thing there were those people called Ange, Jez and Love. Incredible people, they are. Got involved briefly in two school organizations. Period.

So now…where do I start?

Nikki, Cristina and Ace are on my Friendster friends list. One of the very few moments I’m glad Friendster exists. Cristina and I have talked a few times, the last time being 5 years ago or so. Ace is, I heard, a member of UST Salinggawi and, if my intuition is right, a gay. I exchange SMS with some people from my second school, but that’s it. No chance to hang out with them. Sad.

Farina and I see each other from time to time. I’ve no news about Carmina, Angeli and Rachel, but I’m sure they’re doing well. Some people — classmates and batchmates alike — from my fourth school have left comments on my Friendster, and they all bring back funny memories.

It’s really sad that I haven’t been able to sustain the friendship with them. The occasional messages sent over the internet are not enough to preserve the closeness we once had. They don’t ease the pain, the feeling of losing someone special to me. Keeping ties with friends has always been a challenge; I have difficulty doing it. In fact, I can’t do it at all.

So, blog friends, please don’t forget to keep in touch with me, eh? Maybe if you help me maintain the friendship we have, I’d suck a little less.

A few days ago, a call from some guy with a no-nonsense businesslike voice woke me up. With my just-woke-up bedroom voice, I answered his questions with uh-huhs and hmmms because I wasn’t feeling quite human that time. I was still somewhere between homo erectus and homo neanderthalensis, but I was human enough to actually understand English! Anyway, I knew that

• he spoke in a hurry because he’s supposed to have meeting in a couple of minutes and he couldn’t “stay long”
• he’s from some US-based multinational company (well, that’s how I remember him put it)
• he seemed to be recruiting me for some job [training] that I’d be “perfect for” in their expansion program
• his long speech was injected with words such as “outsourcing,” “marketing,” “business,” “leadership” and other blahs I couldn’t quite catch
• he knew I had just woken up (because I said it) but still went on as if I was a full-pledged human (although he did sound quite awkward after hearing that)

Since he didn’t offer any more details than his hurriedly-said name and some bullshit, and I wasn’t really interested despite the “financial compensation” (I have such an expressive voice, you know), I promptly forgot almost everything he told me after we said our goodbyes. Besides, I was a bit suspicious on how he came across my number (should have asked, I know, I know)…my Sun Cellular number, which is, like, so 10 years ago and super obsolete already because no one ever texts me there (actually, no one texts me in my Globe number too, poor me).

Turns out I’m not the only one who has been lured into this. Apparently, a bunch of other bloggers have also been tapped and received a similar call.

From Tita Dine Racoma’s How to Detect Misrepresentation in JOBS

Immediately, there were doubts that came to mind—questions that could detect misrepresentation: (a) he would not give the name of his company, (b) he didn’t ask me to bring my resume, (c) he didn’t know that I was retired, (d) the meeting was supposed to be an interview, not for a soft launch, (e) the interview was supposed to be telling them about myself, not listening about them, (f) meeting was after office hours, (g) his company would not communicate by email, and many more.

From Dr. Tess Termulo’s New Recruitment Strategies?

I decided to give him a little spin.

“I’m in primary care,” I said. I know not much people use the term “primary care”, but instead, use “general medicine” or “GP”, which stands for General Practitioner. And then came the blunt reply, “Ano ‘yun?”

“You don’t know what primary care is?” I asked him, trying hard not to laugh. If this person is someone who’s recruiting a doctor to be a health consultant in a company, he should know what “Primary Care” is. And to that question, he did not answer, but just continued on his gibberish how I WOULD WANT to be joining their company.

BA Racoma, Maki Eduardo, Celeni and Ana Alcala have relayed similar experiences.

I wouldn’t go as far as saying that this is a scam. I tend to agree with the term Tita Dine used: misrepresentation in jobs. But this type of recruitment is downright misleading. And in my books, legit or not, it’s very annoying and full of shit.

And how the hell did they come up with the bloggers’ numbers? Is a blogger giving them out, or worse, selling them?

Oh boy, here we go again. As much as possible, I keep the personal personal problems off the readers’ eyes, but…

My brother’s school is having a problem. And because of it, we, the whole family, are having a problem too.

The problem? My brother.

A few months ago, we’ve been advised to consult a child psychologist for my brother because he’s been saying and doing lots of bad things in school. And when I say bad, I mean ba-aaaad. Like, enough for the registrar, guidance counselor, and his adviser to pay us a visit because my parents can’t come to his school.

It doesn’t help that I studied for two years in the same school. And a damn good student I was back then, so almost every official in that school remembers me clearly. Heck, they don’t only know me by face, they also know me by name! And you know how some teachers can be, comparing siblings and academic performance and all. I shudder to think what they’ve told Robby about me (like, maybe, the time when I sang off-tune in the grand finals of a singing competition, or maybe the time when I burped loudly while talking with a teacher).

I got to talk with the school counselor when I enrolled Robby last May. It was then I realized just how bad the problem was, because as far as I was concerned, he was just a naughty little boy. My parents got called in a few times, but my mom (who’s the only one who ever talks with school officials) never told me anything about it. And I never asked.

One of the findings (yes, there’s more than one) is that my brother suffers from mild mental retardation. That quickly got a smart-ass comment from me: mild lang?! But it’s no joking matter because it’s affecting the way he’s dealing with authority figures. He doesn’t act that radically at home, but whenever he’s in his classroom…I can’t even begin to imagine how he can do the things his teachers say he’s done.

He has, on several occasions, thrown wild tantrums that classes of his section had to be suspended. He’s hit at least one classmate and one teacher. He talks back a lot. When consoled, it’s selective amnesia for him — he’d say he has forgotten, and doesn’t want to remember those things anymore because they’re bad. I just cried when he said that.

I know I haven’t always been a good sister to Robby. I get angry with him, shout at him, pinch him at one time or another, refuse some of his requests, and some things an older sister can do to intimidate her younger brother. Oh my foot, just thinking about all of these makes me wanna cry and hit myself and, I don’t know, kill myself maybe. I could have done better as a sister, I know. But right now? I can’t even do something to make things better for Robby.

PS: Anyone know of non-violent PS2 games I can buy for him (or maybe you can give him, haha)? His shrink advises us not to let him play “violent” games anymore. I’m spoiling him again.

Not that, you perv!

Let me present to you…Prinsesa ng mga Bangs!

But wait! There’s more!

This is what the FireEyedBoy says is my “schoolteacher look,” with the glasses and all. Even Gibbs wasn’t able to recognize me at first, haha. Naku, ang taray ko huh, may grado yan! And that’s not like the 20-peso props I used to wear; that’s the real thing…libo yan, ‘day!

So, am I prettyful or am I uglyful? I know I said I’d shave my head, but that’s gonna have to wait till summer! :yay: In any case, you can still cast your votes.

And Kevin, yes, I know, I’m photogenic. I look only about 5% as “good” as my pictures. But it isn’t my fault the camera loves me, right? :dance:

PS: Some personal issues have been bugging the hell out of me these past few days, and they prevent me from being online most of the time. Goodbye, I’m-gonna-blog-more-frequently plan! I sure as hell won’t miss you!