For
the merry month of May, I targeted to publish three blogs; a 50 per cent
increase from my April output of two. The target was set when I posted my
second for that month. Instead of an
increase, there was a decrease of 50%.
All
along I really thought I had the momentum and had established some sort of rote
in my blog writing. It turned out that I did not.
In
my mental calendar, I blackened out the 10th, the 20th and 30th day of the
month as the deadlines for my posts. The
10th day came, but nada! My article—“lasalista,
lasalyanetan or aranetan”—was only a couple of paragraphs long. I had a hard time finalizing its outline
inside my mind. I found my first couple
of drafts suffering from TMI—too much information. I had to revamp the draft a few times before
I was able to come out with a satisfactory version. After posting it, I immediately started a new
one. But after the first paragraph I set it aside and had not touched it since.
There
was a pair of distraction that got in the way.
One was the information that I could possibly get employed in a
government agency as project development officer. The information came from my wife who was
very careful when she conveyed the info.
She doesn’t want to sound like she’s badgering me to land a job after her
earlier advice that I just formally retire instead of trying to earn a few bucks
but be stressed out from frustrations over working with some mindless and
incompetent bosses.
My
wife of course saw how restless and bored I was in the past months; sitting idly
around and practically doing nothing in the Playpen after I’m done with the usual house chores I voluntarily
do. She’s also aware that I wanted to
pursue some personal interests but could not because I don’t have the basic
wherewithal. Although she wanted to, she
can’t provide this for she’s still neck deep in financial obligations she
incurred when she’s left alone fending for our family when I decided to look
after my parents.
The
prospect of being employed anew really excited me. According to her, the government agency has
yet to receive any tenders from applicants since it announced the vacancy late
last year. Although the salary isn’t
that much, it would allow me to take the tab whenever we decide
to have our favourite brew in coffee shops in nearby malls. More importantly, I would not only be able to
pursue a few of my personal interests but the job would also provide a venue where I could engage one of my cherished advocacies—education.
I
therefore busied myself retrieving and updating my resume, asking former
employers for certificates of employment, and requesting the UP Open University
for certificate of units earned in my master’s program. While making an inquiry on how to get the
latter from my learning centre in UP Diliman, I also inquired on the
possibility of being readmitted anew since I went AWOL when my
mom’s conditions worsened and became bed-ridden.
When
I told my wife about this, she was all for it and encouraged me to seek readmission. This, she said, would qualify me later to take on
additional responsibilities and functions in my work, i.e., if I’m hired, or allow
me to have something worthwhile to spend my time with, if I'm not.
So, even if I really found it bleak to be readmitted because of the maximum residency requirement policy of the UP Open University, in fact, of the whole UP System, I still requested readmission in my Master of Public Management program. My wife was right, there’s no harm and would lose nothing if I try, which was what she also told me about my job application.
So, even if I really found it bleak to be readmitted because of the maximum residency requirement policy of the UP Open University, in fact, of the whole UP System, I still requested readmission in my Master of Public Management program. My wife was right, there’s no harm and would lose nothing if I try, which was what she also told me about my job application.
After
I’m through with my job application and request for readmission, I started to
resume my blog writing. It then entered
my mind what ordeal writers and journalists had to go through just to meet
their deadlines. I also realized that I
can never be like them, especially at this late stage of my life. This realization made me to do away with increasing the number of posts in this blog and just be content with whatever I could. Unlike them, anyway, this is not my bread and butter.
Of course,
it’s better if I can come out with more posts. This, I think, could be the needed
exercise that my mind needs to keep it healthy and sharp and lessen my vulnerability of
succumbing to the same woe—Alzheimer’s Disease—that tormented my late mom in
her old age. (30)
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