Archive for July, 2008

Rays of Hope

July 31st, 2008

“Rays of Hope“

Last November, over a cup of coffee, a friend, knowing my penchant to write convinced me to “blog.” Not knowing what the word means then, I hurriedly did some research which led me, invariably, to the some of the current foremost bloggers, each one claiming to make millions each year.

First was John Chow, then the Rich Jerk and, ultimately, Alvin Phang with his Atomic Blogging. I did know stay or dwell enough with the previous two but stayed long enough with Alvin Phang until I could no longer bear how “sucky” his Atomic Blogging is.

Through them I learned that their e-books are expensive, written by people immersed in HTML not minding that more often than not, buyers are not nerdy like them. I did not stay long enough with Chow or the Jerk to appreciate their customer service but Alvin Phang knows customer service like twig from Mars. He claims to be good in IT but totally ignorant of what customer satisfaction is. In fact, he does not have customer service at all.

At any rate, my first foray into the realm of blogging-for-money was a disaster probably from my sheer ignorance of the Internet environment. I found out that writing, per se, would not sell, unless one writes something that is SEO friendly, which, in most cases, is not what I am passionate about. Reading some of the blogs I came across was an exercise in self-flagellation. They all tell of some weird subjects presented in the literary equivalent of scaling the Mt. Everest.

Then I learned about “traffic” and how important it is to have them to be able to sell. So off I went researching about the subject until I bumped into ListBuilding.com, ListBandit and an endless number of links that are viral or otherwise. The only traffic I got from these guys was an endless stream of offers with as many approaches, all ending in one direction – to sell their products to people who unwittingly entered their names and email addresses into cute little boxes I later found to be called OPT-INS.

After almost of year of bumping into countless dead-ends, plus a website that raided my credit card of $97.00, all I’ve had are outflows, not inflows. Many times I have entertained the thought of quitting, except that quitters never win and winners never quit.

So I kept on slugging it out notwithstanding that there were nights when I was totally lost of what I was doing.

Then I came across SFI which I am doing at my leisure. I am not earning anything from it but it gives me something worthwhile to do. Then a guy from Bosnia, out of the ashes of war, came along for GDI. He sweetened the deal by giving me 20K leads which, by experience, is about 80% “live” and lately the Affiliate Junction. In total, these three prospects will not cost me as much as the $97.00 some sweet-talking SOB stung me with his avalanche of words. I am going stay with them for about a year to see what happens next. Affiliate Junction’s offer looks sweet and the GDI group looks proactive.

I have unsubscribed from the tons of links that landed in my email box except for the three. With perseverance and patience, I will learn the ropes and will really start enjoying my blogging – from writing and from earning.

For a change, I am beginning to see some rays of hope.

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An Evening with Santy

July 29th, 2008

“An Evening with Santy”

My father had wall posters, one of which I could never forget was the one that says:

“All our visitors bring us happiness, some by coming, others by going.”

I and Santy (Santos Oropel) worked together a long time ago. He decided a short time later to try his luck in the land of promise, the U.S. of A. Having had a good experience in sputtering and glass etching, esoteric subjects in liquid crystal display manufacturing, he had no problem finding employment with a company doing plasma display manufacturing, which was in its infancy then. The rest is history.

Due to a sick mother, he came to stay a few days and it was my honor or privilege to get his invitation for a dinner which we aptly had in one of the new restaurants in the I.T. Park.

Though amazed at the changes he saw, he is dismayed that the changes in the landscape and the environment hadn’t effected a change in the Filipino psyche – and I agree with him.

Santy, since the last time I worked with him has, himself, changed somewhat. A lot heavier around the waist but a lot lighter on the pate, he, after years working for a boss, decided to be his own boss. There as here, working for somebody means security. But other than what we receive every 15 days and a jumble of non-cash benefits, we are locked in a daily grind, 8 to 5, six, seven days a week, nothing more nothing less. Being one’s boss provides no safety net for negative consequences in one’s life but opens a myriad of possibilities of what to do with one’s available time, energy and ingenuity. Santy was able to make use of the above and came out a winner.

Going by with one’s passion, he went into trading high-valued audio equipment, the brand of which cannot be bought in a typical audio equipment store. By sheer grit and ingenuity he traced some custom-made audio equipment and established a network of sellers and buyers across the globe. No mean feat for a guy from the “islands.”

At any rate, I was amazed to hear him talk about such things as air-insulated audio system cables that cost more than an average car, amplifier stands made of space-age materials, rare maple wood for the best speakers from Japan and 99.9999% pure copper cables for maximum music clarity of the systems he sells. Equally amazing is the revelation that his current major export market is Vietnam, a country a few years ago played no music other than the explosions of war and the moans of its victims.

He has a son who is a priest (a thing I would have loved to have to help me clear my own spiritual haze) and children who have an ear for music. One is into violin and has learned, aside from playing the instrument, to be discriminating in his instrument as well. So Santy is stuck with a promise to buy him a $4,500.00 violin, which is still a bargain compared to $18,000.00 going price for a virtuoso.

In short, he has a good life unless his ethnicity comes into play. Not unlike other Filipino expatriates, he suffers from an identity syndrome. Too half-baked to call themselves Americans, too embarrassed to be stuck in their Filipino skin and mentality. He bristles at some of his countrymen who  couldn’t  or wouldn’t  follow simple rules as  an  intersection  “Full Stop” or  fishing limits.

When God made the races, He must have made the Filipinos first. Then seeing what the world would be like if there were no rules, He brought forth Moses to make the Commandments. By then, the Filipinos have become so inured to l lawless living to make him feel like a fish out of the water if he lives under one. A typical Filipino breaks the law by nature or to satisfy his beastly ego. And he justifies it too.

While deep in sleep, I was awakened by a text message, the contents of which was pure inanity. When I asked the sender what kind of idiot would send messages at 1 in the morning, he replied that I am an idiot, too, for answering his text. Can you imagine what twisted logic some of us have? Had we confined ourselves within the country where lawlessness is the norm rather than an exception, nobody would really care. It becomes an ethnic shame if done in our adapted countries.

Sadly, among the millions of Filipinos in the Diaspora, shame is not to keep up with the Jones’s, rather than from willful disobedience of the laws, even if it would cost not much as the muscle from the small finger to do so.

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Wisdom of the Years – On Being a Senior Citizen

July 17th, 2008

Last May 8, I turned 60 and became, what my friends jokingly say, “holder of two citizenships.” Of course, approaching one was very much like going to the dentist, so much fear and hesitation, yet, inescapable. Unlike going to the dentist, however, where relief is inevitable, becoming a senior citizen is to face the constant reality that I am old – and there is no relief in that. So I consoled myself with the thought that I did not grow old in vain and that, looking back, my life is like a DVD crammed with 40 full-length films and more.

I have seen many moons, been in the eye of many storms, atmospheric and personal, was on the brink of death no less than four times including seeing the “white light” of a near death experience, been to so many countries, slept in countless hotels, lost count of the women I had and experienced tragedies, man-mad, natural, personal and collateral, etc. In-short, I have had reasons to be happy as if in Heaven and/or shed a bucket-full of tears.

I have witnessed the rise and fall of power as the advance and ebb of the tides, the destructive effects of greed, the unflappable serenity of those whose lives are anchored on deep faith and the seemingly irreversible transformation of our country from that full of hope to the brink of hopelessness. Needless to say, the years that have piled upon me brought with it wisdom more valuable than its equivalent weight in gold. Some of these are:

While we all grow old, some of us never grow up. Learning never stops and one never stops to learn. The former is culled from books and years and years of study while the latter is gained through interaction with my fellow human beings. The former can take one to whatever height he wants to achieve in his field of endeavor, while the latter can spell the difference between being a person of value or a dummy.

Belief on a God is a must. While it is so easy to profess belief on a Higher Being, but living ones life in contrast to that which that Higher Being has designed for us is like wearing one’s clothes inside out – it is ridiculous and insane. A life divorced of guidance from one’s God is a life of constant inner turmoil, of distress and unhappiness. It is through the acceptance that we, regardless of our situations in life, cannot do without Him, the great comforter, benefactor, counselor and source of all that we are and have, that life derives its deeper meaning.

Nothing happens without a reason. Oftentimes, however, the reason is not immediately discernable or obvious. It might take a few hours or days or even years before we really appreciate the things that happen to us – good or otherwise. The minutes in our lives and the things that we do therein are like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle – they fit perfectly, sometimes immediately while others take time to take shape. But in the end, our lives are meant to be productive or purposeful if only we just waited a little while for things to “come” on their own time.

When one door closes, another opens. There was a time when I was literally and practically broke. It broke me down psychologically and had to approach friends for help. In the process I learned who my real friends are and who are plain acquaintances. Surprisingly I found out that I have quite a few who shared with me their resources – interest-free and payable when able allowing me to weather the worst financial crisis I ever had.

Then my wife died robbing me of the desire to live. My children came to the rescue. Growing up under my strict regimen of discipline, both became distant. When we were left alone, we came to know each other better and have since bonded like we never had before. And by the way, my years of disciplining my children have paid off handsome dividends. At a time when worrying is like a hole in the head, my children are not giving me any.

Our lives (I and the other people like me) are like a candle. We have given off our light and are now in our flickering stages. But we still give enough light to be useful. Thanks God, I still use the stairs instead of the ramp and don’t need the hand rails to use the bathroom, I still serve and volley in tennis and go scuba-diving once a month. My only regret is that my desire to have a weekly column in some local newspaper was never given fulfillment. But then again, everything has a reason. My blog at www.joespulpbits.com, allow me to reach out to a wider and more diverse readership rather than be confined to a local arena. Instead of writing weekly for a newspaper, I update my blog almost daily for the world. And it pays more handsomely, too.

Over lunch I was talking to a friend whose husband, an engineer, is doing photo and video editing as a passion. I have a passion to write. And the last piece of wisdom is this:

Rare is the opportunity for people to be given the chance to do that which he/she loves to do, paid or not. To earn handsomely for doing what we would gladly do without, that’s one hell of a blessing.

Wow, what a life – at 60.

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The Thorn in My Life

July 16th, 2008

“The Thorn in My Life”

Life is never meant to be easy. It is not meant to be enjoyed but to be lived. If enjoyment derives from it in the process of living, well, that is a bonus. But by and large, it is a constant struggle of putting out brush fires before they become conflagrations. The satisfaction comes from the little victories we achieve from these activities.

A couple of days ago my son lost his very challenging job with an OEM company in the zone. It was a job difficult for him to come by. The pay was good and the job content has the potential of opening his professional horizon to greater heights. Unfortunately he was not up to its demands.

It was particularly saddening because of my familiarity with the key managers in that company. I know them and they know me – my capacity to be the best if and when the situation demands it. They know my penchant to win. My son’s incompetence in his job was, therefore, a blow to my self-confidence and self-worth.

What happened to my son is far from an isolated case but symptomatic of the prevailing “dream-less” existence of our youth today. They have eyes but cannot see and ears but cannot hear. What fill and appeal to their senses are things that lead to a void rather than wealth in existence.

Oh yeah, my son, just like another’s, have dreams – of cars, of good time, of going out with the boys, of going to places to enjoy. They know who’s who in the hip-hop world and latest news in e-buzz. But they wouldn’t have anything to do about discipline, of constant learning, of sacrifice, of respect, and going back to the basics.

Our youth of today can recognize any face on the TV screen but couldn’t explain the mechanics of supply and demand. They are geniuses in coming up with their own language but couldn’t utter sensible words in an interview. They are great in disfiguring walls with their graffiti but couldn’t write a saleable application letter. They go for the “originals” in their clothes but dress shabbily for an interview. Sure, they frequent Internet cafes to chat and surf the U-Tube, the Friendster and other fan mailboxes but are loathed to find out about the latest in management, of supply chain, of inventory control and e-commerce.

Every year, millions hit the job market. The competition is terribly high and the demands of the current jobs are way beyond their parents could even comprehend. We did not have the TQMs then, or the Six Sigma, the 5 or 6 S, depending on who’s counting, and the customers then did not know their rights. Now it is customer first, minimum inventories, faster turn-arounds, shorter product life-cycles, zero-defects, and the proclivities of the consumers are giving the marketing guys a lot of sleepless nights. Needless to say, the current available jobs have become knowledge, rather than skill focused. This could not have been that bad, had knowledge remained static. But it changes as fast as the processor in one’s laptop.

Not that I been remissed in reminding my son over and over again the signs of the times. I hold two jobs even now that I am technically retired. I do technical writing for a multinational company in the morning and e-commerce in the evening. Notwithstanding these highly knowledge-based activities, my son finds it hard to read and learn something new, something else to make himself differentiated (not different).

I know that my technical writing consultancy shall soon be gone. But that doesn’t worry me because I have my e-commerce.

The thorn in my life is that my son refused to know as much in life, and now he has nothing because he knows nothing.

To those who have much, more is given. But to those who have nothing, even that will be taken away from them.

And many of our youth today belong to that category. How sad.


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The Weather in Our Lives

July 14th, 2008

“The Weather in Our Lives”

At the time when I wet my forefinger to determine from where the breeze is coming from and dropped a blade of grass to approximate its speed, our weather bureau PAGASA (Philippine Astronomical and Geophysical Sciences Administration), flew helium-filled balloons to predict the weather. Their forecasts then were astronomically off not for the unpredictability of the weather but for the unpredictability of their supply of helium.

Then in the mid-80s, I was temporarily assigned to our corporate office In Middlebury, CT, U.S.A. and knew how the U.S. came to be so rich. My counterparts monitored the weather Wednesdays so they can go to rain-free places on the weekend. Mondays, they complain how short their wonderful week-end was. It’s how important the weather is to their lives.

Between these two time frames, our PAGASA remains a joke at worst, a subject of doubt at best. Not that they always miss the weather. They are accurate after the fact, seldom before. One time, the forecast was for our office to be affected by a storm right after lunch. But at 3 p.m., the sun was shining like a new-born babe so we stayed put. A little before 5 p.m., all hell broke loose and we had to go home in the middle of a storm.

Nowadays, because of their incalculable effects on the economy, countries have launched numerous satellites to improve weather forecasts to the level of near “zero defect.” A cab driver unafraid of computers can drop by any Internet café and check the weather for himself. Yet our PAGASA remains an office of miscreants appearing on TV only for two things – to forecast the weather which no one believes or to make excuses for another forecast gone haywire.

Under these circumstances, is it any wonder then that another ship lie upside down with 600 lives still unaccounted for and a load of chemicals waiting to seep its deadly contents into the surrounding seas? No and it will happen again and again for as long as we remain a country of excuses rather than solutions. It will happen again for as long as the country floats on an ocean of politics that turns everything it touches into dust.

In the height of the storm after the sinking of the Princess of the Stars, as in previous disasters, PAGASA kept on giving out muted excuses of “lack of equipment” for their disastrous performance. They keep on hinting of buying expensive radars to monitor and track weather conditions. Though noble at face value, the question that begs for an answer is this, “if they were not able to constantly fly their weather balloons for lack of helium, how long will these expensive radars operate until they break down for lack of spare parts?” Right after the last storm, the PAGASA people got in touch with a radio station to report on the weather from a borrowed telephone because their line was cut off for unpaid bills. If they cannot pay their telephone bills, how can they pay the maintenance costs of expensive radars they are hoping to buy? The only certainty from the purchase of weather radars is the kickback that derives from it.

Not that the lives of Filipinos are disastrously affected by the weather. There are thousands of other reasons that make our lives miserable. Besides, we have gotten used to it. We have gotten used to PAGASA ‘s regular prediction of “fair weather except for scattered rain showers or thunderstorms, “ or “the tail end of the cold front,” or the “tropical convergent zone.”

To regain bruised ego and lost credibility, every now and then PAGASA would forewarn the public of 20 or so storms within the year giving us the impression that they are on top of the situation when in fact, a guy ignorant on statistics, will know that this knowledge comes not from careful analysis of weather and atmospheric data from all over the world but from annual averages of typhoons visiting the country in the past.

And they can seem to be erudite too. When a long dry spell occurs, we have the El Nino, and if rains fall on months they are not supposed to, we have the El Nina. Now if only people will bother to surf the Net to find out what these atmospheric phenomena are, they will know that PAGASA is, once again, off in its prediction


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Prayer and Feeling Good

July 11th, 2008

“Prayer and Feeling Good”

One advantage of being advanced in years is the capacity to handle situations on the fly.

While having a nice conversation, on e-commerce, with a friend over a cup of coffee, the guy next table, from out of the blue, said, “Excuse me, can I ask you a question?”

So I said, “Yes, what about?”

He asked, “Is telling a joke a prayer?”

Confused, I asked back, “What do you mean?”

Innocently he said, “Well you know, when you crack or hear a joke that makes you and people laugh, making us feel good, isn’t it a prayer because it makes us all feel good?”

Without hesitation, I said, “Well it depends on your values and orientation. If a green or vile joke makes you laugh, I don’t think you are praying”

Persisting, he said, ”But it makes you feel good; isn’t that what prayers are supposed to do, to make you feel good?”

Getting into my element this time, I said, “Look, if somebody fell down the stairs and you laughed, and it is common for Filipinos to laugh at people’s embarrassments, are you saying a prayer? You are saying a prayer if you sympathize with the guy rather than laugh at him.”

I hope that the guy is an isolated case otherwise we are really screwed if there’s a tribe of them out there of who has a convoluted idea about prayer and feeling good.

It is all to common for people to push and shove and jockey for the best position in the presence of celebrities or stupid politicians (and they are so many to county), yet we don’t push and shove and jockey as much in putting ourselves in the presence of God – which is what prayer is all about. It makes us feel so good to be seen with the former, but unload all our miseries to the latter.

“Feeling good” is a simple phrase laden with pitfalls. For what can make one’s senses feel good can ruin his person, his soul. The sins I have committed in my life all satisfied my senses, but they make me feel miserable as a person. Greed can definitely satisfy one’s hunger for goods, but will not add a whit to his being a person of honor. Honesty, character, and belief in one’s principles have made a good many people outcasts from society, subjects of ridicule, discriminated upon and humiliated; lose their jobs and possessions, even death. But these guys stand 10 feet taller than ordinary mortals in the scale of deep personal satisfaction.

Laughter can definitely make us feel good. In fact it is a necessary, natural psychological reaction so people can cope with things which are often beyond their capacity to cope under normal situations.

So does a prayer. Being present with God can be awesome. But to equate prayer and laughter is no less than saying that an oak is an elm because both are trees.

Prayer can make us feel good in a more profound ways than by just laughing. They come from loving, even those difficult to love, of being patient under the most trying circumstances, of being happy with what we are and generous with what we have, being faithful in a world of faithlessness, being gentle, especially to those who are meek and underprivileged, and self-control for excesses can bring ruin to ourselves and those around us.

“Feeling good” from prayer comes from the knowledge that we have made the lives of others a little bit better. In fact, that is probably the best prayer anyone can do.

Unfortunately the guy kept his silence and distance before I can give him a homily on the real essence of “feeling good” brought about by an honest, deep and sincere prayer.


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Mr. Sorry Does Not Live Here

July 9th, 2008

“Mr. Sorry Does Not Live Here”

A favorite saying among philandering Filipinos is to “deny, deny, deny and deny even if caught with your pants down.”

In a funny twist of the bizarre however, our President, faced with mounting public outrage over election irregularities, was forced to go on national television to say “I’m sorry.” But her body language betrayed that her act of contrition was more on being forced to be contrite rather than for having committed something which could have forced the resignation of the highest leader in any of our “heathen” Asian neighbor countries.

Since the Filipino finds it below his dignity to say “I’m sorry” and do all he can, even to the pain of death, to never do again that which he is sorry for, the country is a perpetual disaster waiting to happen. The loss of more than 600 hundred lives is a pittance compared to our past losses in lives and other scant, albeit, valuable resources because we cannot say “I’m sorry.”

And this will not be the last

The Princess of the Stars, lying upside down in waters so close to salvation, is one among many of such disasters. What is significant about it is that this is the fourth disaster that struck the same company in a span of time too short to forget. Yet, it was allowed to sail on not withstanding its dismal performance in the furtherance of the safety and well-being of the very source of its revenues – its passengers. Why?

Characteristically, the company, in a show of insensitivity, arrogance and defiance, has blamed everything, rather than burn incense to the higher gods and ask forgiveness for its disastrous business practices. It even blames God. It blames the weather bureau for its delayed forecast, it blames the Coast Guard for clearing its vessel for departure, it blames an agricultural company for keeping “secret” a toxic cargo that has endangered, not only the rescue and salvage people, but the entire island near where its vessel sank.

In the rigodon of finger-pointing and passing the buck, the relatives of the victims have been made to suffer uncertainty, deprivation of sleep, food and shelter just to know the whereabouts of their loved ones. Never was their physical, emotional, and spiritual hungers been eased with the slightest show of sympathies from those who have wrought these hungers upon them.

Coffee shop talk has it that when things settle down and people start forgetting, the shipping line shall be acquiring a new vessel from its insurance claims. And this is not far-fetched. Currently Sulpicio Lines is bridging heaven and hell to prove its innocence in the mess. It has sued practically everybody, refused re-floating which could salvage the vessel over dragging which could ruin it beyond recognition, not minding the total destruction of the corrals beneath its structure, and has the relatives of the victims sign a quit-claim clause in their indemnities.

And once again, our jokers in Congress are starting their congressional investigations, which are nothing but opportunities for these ego maniacs to get media coverage rather than correcting the ills that are plaguing this country since Legaspi forced his belief on the unwilling natives through pain of en-slavery or death. All thunder and no lightning serving nothing but to make our people lose focus.

The Princess of the Stars lie upside down on shallow waters, perhaps as a testimony of our sins against a God whose Name we are so fond of invoking even in the most mundane things we do like going to the toilet. Perhaps, God is trying to tell us that, as the only Christian country in Asia, we stink like a toilet. The tragedy is that this is not the only one, nor is it the last.

Isn’t it time that we say, “we’re sorry,” and really mean it?


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Losing Out on Our Women

July 4th, 2008

“Losing Out on Our Women“

Early this year, when our house helper left us in a lurch, we were pressed into taking in a replacement to avoid turning a domestic problem into a national tragedy. I call her spice girl for the very wide array of recipes she can cook. Problem is, she used a mountain of spices in each, taking away any trace of the delectable flavor of the main ingredients.

Except for cooking, she couldn’t do anything much, besides she considered us a half-way house until her American fiancée takes her in for a bride. Half way through her intended tenure with us, we let her go. I hope the marriage between the carpenter and the spice girl has been consummated and (they) are now living happily ever after.

Her case is just one among thousands of Filipinas who have found another passion – getting hitched to a foreigner. Never you mind the personal circumstances of him who finds his way to the Internet or referred, he is still fair game to our women wanting to have a break from the apparently hopeless cycle of misery in our country.

For a long time, our lawmakers were at loggerheads over the medium of instruction to be used in our classrooms Some say it should be English, while others prefer Pilipino or Filipino (they couldn’t even agree whether it should start with an F or a P). A small portion, those locked into their selfish and ignorant regional mind-sets, strongly argued for a mixture with a regional dialect.

Far from the arena of inanity, the little people, specifically the small and passionate Filipinas, are already multi-lingual. Sitting in a coffee shop among Cebu’s posh malls is like sitting on a bench in Battery Park in Mahattan, N.Y. Countless streams of peoples from all over the world pass by in any given minute. The difference is that the parade of nationalities in Cebu is peppered with Filipinas from all walks of life, from a real beauty to purely exotic. Nine out of ten, a foreigner is always followed by or following a Filipina.

Sitting at Bo’s promenade in Ayala is like a front seat in a beauty pageant. Last week a young Korean-looking male with his Filipina escort had a table next to mine. Verily, in an act of gentlemanliness (strange for Korean males whose behave like anything but gentlemanly), he fitted a gold-colored, high-heeled shoes over the girl’s feet. Whatever images of a Cinderella romance I had was totally doused when they left. It was obviously the first time for the girl to wear high-heeled shoes that the guy had to hold her firmly to keep her from rolling down the few short steps to the taxi stand.

The Filipina has never had it so good in the age of the IT. The cell phone facilitates the building of social networks, making prospecting a lot easier. I would not be far off to say that a huge percentage of our telecommunication companies’ earnings are from people who eat not much but text sumptuously. The text time of our current house helper is a lot more than mine and my two children combined.

So where does that leave the discriminating Filipino? To gawk and to have a bad taste in his mouth; green with envy. They either have to be slick or thick to catch the fancy of our local girls.

Foreigners have money to burn and they do to satisfy their libidos. The good looking ones are playing it cuddly with Asian visitors while the exotic (comely to bizarre) are having the times of their lives with less-discriminating Caucasians. In the process, we have become multi-lingual, multi-cultural and, in the near future, more multi-colored people.

And some day too, the Filipino would console himself with the song:

“Where have all the young girls gone?

Gone to farangs, everyone.

When will we ever learn,

When will we ever learn?”

Note: Hope someone corrects for I may be wrong. Farang, if my memory is right, is a Thai word for foreigner.

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Reinventing Myself

July 2nd, 2008

“Reinventing Myself”

A friend once introduced me as the guy who is never obsolete. It tickled me with delight to be described as such despite knowing that it was a diplomatic way of blunting the age difference I had vis-a-vis the  younger group he introduced me to.

But what the hell! Yes, I just filed my retirement claims. But No, I am not retired if retirement is not to be doing anything productive and of value to myself and others.

Let’s just say that I am continuously re-inventing myself. And right now, I am reinventing myself to be a blogger and earn handsome dividends in the process.

It’s probably a blessing that I am penniless (but debt-less) at retirement age and my children refuse to marry. Otherwise, I would be doing what most guys of my age do – take care of their grandchildren while silently suffering from their arthritis and/or diabetes. I don’t have them, too!

At age 60 I am trying to make sense of HTML and SEO, driving myself nuts figuring out where to paste affiliate codes, understanding bulk mailing, opt-ins, auto-responders, spamming, and a plethora of words that did not exist in my prime.

My mailbox is forever full from the barrage of emails from guys I don’t even know like Tellman, Tim Brockhurst, John Chow, etc, upstaging each other with their sure-fire, get-rich quickly e-books covering subjects like viral marketing, list building, self-building affiliate marketing software, etc. The list is endless and senseless.

The other day I asked an officemate to teach me how to create a mailing list from my Yahoo and to create “signatures” option with my email. Though unfamiliar with these subjects himself, he obliged by going thorough his Yahoo Browser. And sure enough, there, buried in the Help page, were the subjects I was looking for. Boy, was I delighted to have learned something new.

Just like anybody else who have reached the age when part of the brain is already in the shutdown mode, I find the going tough. There are times where I am practically stumped, lost, not knowing where and what to start working with. More often than not, that which I decide to work on will lead me to a link, then another link, until I am back to where I started in the first place.  What a pain!

All these Internet marketing “gurus’”, if ever they fit the description, sweeten their offers with video presentations that often confuse, rather than reinforce their marketing strategies. The presentors go through their materials as if talking to a group well-versed with the subject at hand and the downloading delay results in intermittent and irritating presentation.

To-date, I have incurred a modest expense in reinventing myself. The knowledge I have gained so far, however, is more than the cost I have spent. And I know that very soon, my reinvention will be up and running in full gear, very much life a pupa’s metamorphosis into a beautiful butterfly.

As most successful people would say, failure is when a person falls down and does not try to get up.

Well, in a manner of speaking, I’m down to my last bullet and failure is not an option.

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Hole in My Head

July 1st, 2008

“Hole in My Head”

A friend of mine suffered a bump in the head several days back. He did not give it much thought until he started feeling strange while playing mah-jhong. Fearing that he might not able to correctly read the strange characters in the mah-jhong tiles, he checked in for an eye exam. After a thorough set of tests and process of elimination, he went through a skull-drilling operation to remove the blood clot in his brain resulting from that nasty bump he had.

Visiting him two days after the critical operation, I commented that now he wouldn’t have trouble answering the question, “What’s in your mind.” “Excuse me?” he asked. I told him “Well, now when somebody asks you that question you can rightfully say ‘Sorry, whatever was there in my mind has gone through the holes in my head’.”

In a manner of speaking, we all have holes in our heads allowing precious gems of thought, inspiration, lesson, idea, logic, sanity, etc., to escape through them.

I have lots of them considering the boo-boos I committed my entire life. So is the guy to my left, as well as that in my right. As if these were not enough, I continue to let things through the holes in my head giving me much difficulty in comprehending those coming from the holes in other people’s heads.

A forum I am a member of used to exchange messages about celebrations, outings, motivational and crazy pictures, plans for a medial mission, etc. You know, those inane, albeit, harmless things life is generally made of. Then people started joining transforming the forum into a propaganda platform, testifying to that ugly part of Public Relations that always leaves a bad taste in people’s mouth. Now, it needs the strongest astringent in the world to make it pleasant again for most of the members.

I am handicapped by the hole in my head making it difficult, nay, impossible for me to understand why it is so easy for people to blame everybody and everything for the misfortunes coming their way without thinking, even for a moment, that perhaps, they are just reaping what they sowed. The Laws of Reciprocity, of Karma, the inviolability of “what goes around comes around” thing are too big to go through the holes in my head. Thanks God, they allow me the impetus for self-reflection.

But others are so dense to know these things, hiding, instead in the argument that “you cannot please everybody.” Maybe so if those who are not pleased are a miniscule compared to a horde of those who are. This argument is fallacious when the actual situation is the reverse of that which is presumed, which, in the present case is the true beyond reasonable doubt, except of course, to the usual hangers-on, the turn-coats, those that miraculously fall into a vacant chair in the organizational structure and those who cannot and will not find much worth in places outside of a political penumbra.

Yes, I have holes in my head making it difficult for me to understand these things. But thank you Lord, for creating people with perforations in theirs.

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