FSE Part I

The exam's tomorrow and I am restless.  I know I should get some sleep, but I want to finish the last 2 episodes of Dexter Season 6 tonight and I need to find me more Mongol Number 2 pencils and an eraser as well.

What if I don't pass?

Why didn't I study? But how do you even study logic and math? Ughhh better play Brain Champ on my phone before sleeping.  Might help.

fskdhfakfjsifasfjsadfhasjldfjaslfioeruaskfjsaklhfasjhskhfdasjfdhakj ahsfjkahsjkashalksfajsfneedtopassfjsahfjakhfakaksfdjaj

BRB panicking

Karymsky Volcano, Russia

Named after a Russian ethnic group, the Karymsky is a stratovolcano which last erupted in 2011 and will continue to do so in the years to come.  It is the most active volcano in the Kamkatcha Peninsula, located in the Russian far east and is in between the Sea of Orhotosk and the Pacific Ocean.

I received this postcard in June 2011 from Olga of Novosibirsk, the third most populous city in Russia, just after Moscow and St. Petersburg.

It came with these stamps:

Hare and Elk stamps issued in 2008 and a joint issue with Serbia stamp of Mary and the child Jesus 

Rosenrot by Rammstein

Artist: Rammstein

Album: Rosenrot

Genre: Industrial Metal, Metal

Release: 2009

Tracks: 

1. Benzin 
2. Mann gegen Mann 
3. Rosenrot 
4. Spring 
5. Wo bist du 
6. Stirb nicht vor mir (feat. Sharleen Spiteri) 
7. Zerstören 
8. Hilf mir 
9. Te quiero Puta! 
10. Feuer und Wasser 
11. Ein Lied 

In the dead of night, I used to lie awake and cut myself to the beat of Rammstein songs in full volume.  Mr. Santos, our next-door-neighbor, furiously rang our doorbell at 1 AM one day to complain about that racket coming from my stereo.  The knob of my door could only turn so much as I valued my privacy.  It took them a good few minutes to find the spare key to my room and when they finally got in, they found me lying in a pool of my own blood.

That's how intense Rammstein is with all the screams and heavy guitar strummings topped with clashing hi-hats and cymbals.  Rammstein is not for the faint of heart.  But I would recommend this album to those interested in learning German.  Till Lindemann's lyrics are, aside from pretty angry, pretty straightforward as well.  He annunciates each word in a slow and clear manner, perfect for the untrained ears of aspiring Germanophones.

I would recommend tracks 4 and 5, Wo bist du and Stirb nicht vor mir respectively.  These are my favorite tracks and are not too metal.  They have the easiest, yet most intense lyrics to boot:

Ich suche dich unter jedem Stein.
Wo bist du?
Ich schlafe mit einem Messer ein.
Wo bist du?

Alle Häuser sind verschneit,
Und in den Fenstern Kerzenlicht.
Dort liegen sie zu zweit.
Und ich,
Ich warte nur auf dich

See? German metal songs can even teach you about the dativ Kasus and trennbare Verben.  So start learning Deutsch with Rammstein today!

Disclaimer: Of course, the part about me cutting myself and lying in a pool of my own blood was all made up.

Masskara Festival, Bacolod City

Another postcard sent by my celebrated boyband friend, Jescia, when I was in Japan last year.

Masskara: Spanish for mask and many faces

If Germany has the Oktoberfest, then the people of Bacolod City have a 20-day Masskara Festival to trump those groß mugs of white beer and lederhosen.  Originally meant to commemorate the hardships of the people of the region, the Festival has now become a tool for escapism.

All right, the Masskara Festival is an awesome event where people dance in the streets, drink beer, be merry,  wear masks, climb poles, and stuff.

This website describes the Masskara Festival better than I can so just check it out and get out of here: http://www.philippinecountry.com/philippine_festivals/masskara_festival.html

12 Days

12 days from now, I'll be waking up the same time I used to wake up back in high school--5 AM--or probably even earlier if I don't want to be late for the first stage of the Foreign Service Exam at 7 AM sharp.  I'm a late sleeper.  I'm not an insomniac.  I just like sleeping late and waking up for brunch or to answer that godforsaken phone where on the other line lies a telemarketer, looking to sell shower heads to my deceased grandmother.  God bless her soul.

Not-so-fresh out of college, I spend most days pretending to prepare for the FSE.  I'm not being cocky; I'm just being focused on my goal: I will pass the exam and become a Foreign Service Officer.  I just can't see myself in any other job, which is probably why I've either rejected or been rejected from possible job offers.

Today is the day I stop bookmarking ostensibly interesting articles.  Today is the day I stop running away from educational and informative websites with scroll bars so small, it's like the page is on infinite scroll (a la Tumblr style).  Today is the day I actually start reading again.

After college, I feel that my brain has stopped working.  Did I really need all that fear of failure and embarrassment to motivate me to learn? Can't I just learn for the sake of learning? I should already be big enough (pun intended because I'm a few pounds overweight and the two ends of my pants are star-crossed lovers, fated never to meet again, lest I engage in some sort of physical exercises which involve walking further than the distance from my room to the fridge) to know the rewards of being a wide reader.

Yesterday I survived a full day without my laptop.  I did spend a few minutes checking my mail and several online accounts on our family's 8-year-old desktop computer, but that was it.  At night I found myself with too much time on my hands, which I half-used on reading Jeffrey Eugenides' Middlesex, quarter-used on playing games on my mobile phones, and quarter-used channel surfing, which I haven't done in a long time.  I haven't been watching TV because the Internet (by which I actually mean Tumblr) has sucked all the life and time out of me.  For those on Tumblr, follow me.  For those not yet on Tumblr, do not get started.  It is pure EVOL.

Anyway I want to chronicle my journey towards the Philippine foreign service through this postcard blog turned missed connection blog turned whatever blog.  Whatever blog.  Maybe I shouldn't have stopped blogging in 2008 after that one incident of cyberbullying.  Hopefully if I pass the FSE, this blog would chronicle the awesome and exciting adventures of future foreign service officer me.

If I don't pass this year, I have 16 more years to try again.  I'm 20 and ready for the world.  Or probably not. We'll see.

A Bearded Boy on the Bus

Originally posted on my Tumblr, but posting it here just in case.


February 2, 2012, 4:40 PM.


I had just finished taking a test and an interview for a Research Analyst position at the Department of National Defense (DND) located inside Camp Aguinaldo, near the Santolan-Annapolis MRT Station.  I was no stranger to the streets of Manila and the commuting culture that came with it, but as a neophyte in the Santolan area, it took me a little less than half an hour to find the bus stop and board a bus. I patiently stood in the polluted streets scanning for a bus which matched the following criteria:

1. Was air-conditioned,
2. Didn't have passengers standing on the aisle, and most importantly,
3. Was bound for SM Fairview.

After minutes of waiting under the smoke-belched waiting shed, a multicolored air-conditioned bus bereft of people in the aisle and more importantly was bound for SM Fairview opened its doors to me.

The first thing I noticed about this particular BBL trans bus was that its glass door has been ostensibly cracked by a bullet.  I've seen worse, like scotch-taped rear windows in cabs.  Anyway, the next thing that I noticed was the lack of seats near the door.  The bus was in motion and I had to expertly traverse through the empty aisle garbed in my prim and proper interview clothes and high heels.  Stuff I don't usually wear.

So I was walking towards the back of the bus and to my left was a guy staring out the dusty window.  I sat beside him since I've always preferred the two-seaters to the three-seaters.  Plus he was kinda cute.  The moment I sat down, I couldn't stop smiling.  There was something non-threatening and reassuring in his calm countenance, his bushy beard, his long eyelashes, and his Nike bag and green tumbler. (It actually feels awkward spelling the whole word: tumbler.)  I took out a P20 bill from my wallet and waited for the conductor to collect my payment.

The conductor came and I raised my old P20 bill to his face.

"East Ave." I said softly, in an attempt to sound demure and nonthreatening to my seatmate.

Too soft.  I had to repeat. "East Ave."

He took my P20 bill and produced P8 worth of coins and 2 tickets: one labeled P11 and the other, P1.  I put away my tickets and coins and continued to smile and steal side glances at the cute guy beside me.  And I don't know if it was just my imagination but the bearded boy also seemed to steal side glances at me during the ride.  I wanted to look at him the same time he looked at me, but I didn't, for reasons unknown even to me.

For lack of things to smile at, I decided to take my cellphone out and send an SMS to one of my good friends, Cathy, and tell her that there was a cute guy in the bus and I was texting her because I had to stop smiling at seemingly nothing. I don't know if he ever saw what I was typing.  Half of me was hoping he did, while half of me was tilting the phone away so he wouldn't see.

3 minutes later, Cathy replied and asked me to describe the cute guy on the bus.

He has a beard. Is chubby. Long lashes. Cute. Haha feeling ko naglalandian kami kahit hindi. Haha (I think we're flirting with each other even if we're really not.)

Enter surprise inspection time.  A second conductor entered the bus inspecting people's tickets.  When he came near our seats, I readied my tickets and my seatmate asked, "ano bang hitsura ng tickets?" (What did the tickets look like?)

"Ganito," (Like this,) my smile broadened as I showed him both my teeth and my tickets.  "Ang dami mong tickets!" (You have a lot of tickets!) I remarked as I saw small pieces of crumpled paper in his bag's pocket.

I faced the front and continued to smile to myself.  We actually talked! OMG OMG OMG OMG we talked and I was dancing on the inside.

"Pwedeng malamang kung anong oras na?" (May I know what time it is?) He asked, continuing the already established small talk.

"4:59." I said as I showed him my black digital Timex watch. "Bakit?" I asked. "Nagmamadali ka?" (Why? Are you in a hurry?)

He had to go to church.  Religious.  He asked me if I was going to work.  No, I wasn't.  I was actually going home, I told him.  I just had a job interview at DND a while ago.  The results will be out by Monday.

"Good luck!" He sincerely wished.

"Thanks!" I said appreciatively.

"Nilalamig ako!" (I feel cold!) He told me pretending to shiver.  Well, who wouldn't? The air-con was directly above him.

"E bakit mo tinanggal yung curtain?" I asked him why he removed the curtain that was jammed into the circular hole that was the air-con above our seats.  He mumbled his answer and he noted that my stop was near.

Indeed it was.  For lack of better things to talk about I asked him what his religion was. "Anong religion mo?"

"INC" He answered.

"Ah! Kayo yung sa may...yung parang malaking castle!" (Oh! You guys are the ones...like the big castle!) I said, forgetting everything including the name of Commonwealth Avenue at that moment.

"Oo." He affirmed and chuckled a bit.

"Pangarap ko nga makapunta run, eh." (It's my dream to go there.) I declared.  Well, it was true.  For years now, my brother and I have always been wanting to visit that huge Iglesia ni Cristo church at Commonwealth.

"Edi baba ka rin mamaya!" (Then go down later, too.) He joked.

I watched the windows move the buildings back or maybe it was the other way around or none at all.  I saw the Jollibee at V.Luna corner East Avenue.  I didn't want to go down, but I had to.  For once in my life, I actually wished for terrible traffic so I didn't have to alight yet.  I abruptly ended the promising conversation and looked into his eyes as I bade him a wistful goodbye.

I turned away from him, stood up and braved the bodies lined up on the aisle and told the conductors that I was going down.  I disembarked the bus and my smile was wider than ever.  I wanted to wait for the PUB to pass by the corner of the street and wave goodbye to it and the boy riding away, but I didn't.  I wanted to see his face one last time, but I didn't.  I walked away and walked towards the Anonas-bound jeep now accepting passengers.

And now here I am 90 minutes after that 15-minute bus ride and that 5-minute conversation wishing that I had at least gotten your name.  I would very much like to continue talking and also ask about entry of Roman Catholic tourists to the awesome castle of the Iglesia ni Cristo.  And/or more.  I don't know.

And for my non-Filipino readers, here's a picture of the huge castle-church of the INC faith:

And for my Filipino readers, hi.  I think I'm trying to find this boy.  Hahaha.  I don't know.  And yeah, I'm sharing my story; it's the first time I've talked to someone on the bus here in Manila. (Because I seem to be a conversation magnet for old ladies in the buses of Japan.)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

February 8, 2012, 12:00 AM edit:
I'm not trying to romanticize this encounter in any way, but I guess the reason why I've actually taken time to write about this experience is because deep inside me, I know that this bearded boy and I are tangent lines, fated to intersect only at one point in time and to go our separate directions after.  And that is the masochistic beauty of it all.  I know it's just a one-time thing, and this is why I am making such a big fuss about it.  Chicken or egg.  One time, hence (pun intended) the big fuss.  Big fuss therefore just one-time thing.

Let's face it.  Without a name and with only a deteriorating image of his face in my head and a really small detail to go on (INC Commonwealth), what are the chances that we would meet again? And in case we do meet again, what now? This is me just being cynical.  It's been almost a week and this blog entry hasn't really reached you.  Was I expecting you to find me overnight? Yes.  Yes, I honestly was.

But wouldn't it be really fun to run into each other again or what? We'd be like, "Hey! You're that person from the bus!" And then we could blog about how awesome an experience it was to see a stranger again.  Or we could just forget about it.  Or something.

I've been watching too much movies (On the Line to be specific) and reading too much blogs (A Winning Smile and Love Takes an FX Ride to be exact).  More often than not, art imitates life and not the other way around.  We can't all have a movie script ending.  But then again, it depends on one's definition of a movie script ending.  Open-ended movies annoy the most unimaginative audiences because their minds cannot accept the ending.  They want something more obvious, something that they can easily build on.

So here's my movie script ending.  Open-ended for your discontentment.  You'll have to imagine what's next. Would the Boy and I meet again? How? When? Where? Why? Why not?

Or maybe I could just write about it again.  We'll see.