.. my R. O. I. is happiness..

Return of Investment-- these are the reverberating words coming from my patient. I am a small time investor and for how many months now that my sister and I ventured in stock market, we haven't yet seen our ROI. As what our mentor said, we are not traders. We are investors..and we deal with long term goals.

As I am waiting for my patient for the CT Scan to commence, the ROI kept on ringing on my ears as if I had a salicylate overdose. 

What is my ROI in my personal life?

While some people are so overwhelmed with the rapid takeover of technology, I can say that I am still a woman of the cave,=) I confess that to this date I'm still using my old Nokia phone with Winnie the Pooh and Tigger background (at least it's colored, lol) though with all humility I can say that I can already afford to buy what I want coming from my own pocket. I had given an Apple brand item as a gift but I don't own one. Because I'm happy with the conventional way of sending and receiving messages..because I'm happy to see Pooh licking a can of honey everyday. I'm happy to read my sister's text messages of how surprised she was with the gift. I could never had felt it if I had chosen to bought it for myself alone. Investing with people and relationships over fleeting material possessions surely brings priceless happiness--beyond leaps and bounds. 

Another confession before this year ends is that I do not own my personal laptop not until  the last quarter of this year. How I made the number of posts from my Third Place? Of course, God provides!=) Blame it on my favorite peanut butter that I got this unconventional way of thinking! I bought instead a Nikon DSLR. Because I want to invests in people: capturing treasured moments, painting smiles from behind the lens, engraving a mosaic-formed memories. Surely when I am on my deathbed, I will not remember any more the specifications of Samsung SII or the iPod Touch..what will ring on my ears are the crispy laughter in business lingo called ROI, while I call happiness..

Anyone of you who intentionally or accidentally hopped on my once upon a time "hideout" might also pose the same question; what is my personal ROI? I will understand if it's hard to assess and answer this question. Once in our lives, we may be like the character of Mary and Joseph..a "night traveler"..In addition, some of us may be carrying a heavy backpack of "loads". We may feel that the sky is so dark,  and that no one even lift a finger to spare some light. Hold your ground, for no matter how dark the night is, rest assured that there are stars behind.We cannot see that light sometimes because of the overwhelming darkness in the form of problems, hurts, rejection, sickness, betrayal, defeat, lose. Keep pulling through, keep walking through. Life is full of tricks. It's only in darkness that light is better appreciated, no matter how flimsiest rays may seem. I assure you that the darkest night has the brightest day-having been once a night traveler. 

It is my fervent prayer this Christmas that you may find your ROI in the simplest things. Invest in your relationships: with your kids, your family, your special someone, with your workmates, with your friends, with the ordinary people, with your God. While Physics says that opposite signs attract while like signs repel and that Geometry claims that parallel lines will never meet, I only believe in what God says, "you are my beloved, you are my greatest ROI"..=)

Merry Christmas!

..I started scribbling, and I was never the same..

From my screen to yours!

I turned on my laptop when half of the world is sleeping. The best time to make a post is when you are all left alone. Nobody to watch you as you wrinkled your eyebrow when the sentences seemed won't fit to what you want to convey. Silence is a therapeutic companion aside from a hot coffee on my favorite mug that eventually turned cold as I cannot stop my phalanges from working or else the tendency is that I will forget what I am supposed to type. This has been the usual occurrences for the past year I'm into blogging. I don't know exactly what persuaded me for I was contented with my Facebook notes. I have already anchored myself to the refuge of writing, of sketching and a bit of painting, and of reading books as being my milieu therapy being away from the context of "freedom".

Blogging understood my depths. I love my solitary moments, being away from the crowds and just enjoying my solemn minutes and hours. Maybe that could be a hypothetical reason why I created this blogsite, my Third Place. It can endure my silence while I'm pouring my heart out. It listens to my soul's chants and nuisance, absorbing them on its walls, clearing me of whatever loads I have kept on my shoulders and leaving me soothe and rejuvenated. It never rejected whatever I had to say, its patience is unrelenting. Its capacity to be there for me is unyielding. I just have to decide to write it down.

I cannot believe that as to this writing I had already made 68 posts with 2, 672 all time history page views since the birth of this blogsite from different parts of the world. The statistics doesn't count anymore. As what I said in my Facebook article, it really makes my day to have someone read my blog. Because Time is an expensive element, and by stopping over my posts is a big manifestation of sharing that expensive element. I may not know all of you but wherever you are, from the last strands of my heart muscles, thank you very much for allowing Chameleon's optimism come into your life in as short as few minutes and for letting me share with you my life's learned lessons!

I thought that by blogging, I may be able to express my emotions, I may be able to disclose myself to the world, I may be able to be better well understood. It did. But blogging made more than that. I was afraid to open up myself, but ironically, it made me known myself better. It just needed me to scribble down, and yes, I was never the same=)

TO GOD BE THE ULTIMATE GLORY!

..I'm ashamed not to give love..

She hasn't gotten a college degree. She doesn't know what Facebook is. It's foreign to her what a blog is. And even if I will explain what it is and how it is made, I know she'll care less. Because everything in her existence came from a simple discipline: Self-giving.

She started caring for us way back 26 years ago. She was still at the blossom of her youth. Though it was not her womb who nurtured us, you can never teach her what motherhood is all about. You can never define to her what care and love is. More than the educated people out there, she's more intellectual. She knows what are the basics in life. She doesn't need words to say it all, her actions are enough.

When my sister and I were still in our grade years, she would attend our school meetings. She's not seated on the front seat since she's only wearing the same old set of jeans: no make-up or even glittering jewelries because her money is dedicated for our allowance. Hardly can I recall that she had bought nail polish for herself. In fact, her hands are wrinkled and overworked: washing and ironing our clothes, doing the hard stuffs for us, something unlikely for a single woman to do at her 20's when she could be having a time of her life.

Highschool years and she's still the same. Maybe not. I can see some additional graying hairs  to her already gray-streaked hair. I can even see some wrinkles around her eyes whenever she would genuinely smile over our school achievements. I just forgotten she's now on her early 30's. The endless school meetings continued, her seating habits all the same. Only her love is constant, only her care remains unrelenting. I'm wondering if she ever thought of thinking about her own happiness now that we can take care of ourselves fairly well.

She got sick around our college years. It struck me that she is not getting any younger. That sooner or later, we will have to face our own individual lives. Still, her devout in making us good people is her expertise. Whenever I would wake up to go on duty on rainy days, I could already hear clanking of utensils at the kitchen. My meals at the table, uniforms well-pressed. The umbrella is ready and she would wear her old jacket. We would trudge the dark road together under the drizzling cold morning. My fear then was that if she had reached home safe since she don't own any mobile phone. My sister and I graduated and through all those days and years, she  would still keep her Christmas gifts as an "emergency fund" for us. 

We became professionals, her hair even grayer in time. She's about on her late 30's. Still single by choice. She now owns a mobile phone, the colored-screen one. She can text faster now, and if only I can share in this blog her text messages, you can also say that we are more than adequately and abundantly blessed. 

Now that we are full grown-up individuals, I'm hurting whenever I think that she's about to face her 40's..far from us. That she had given all her life raising us, honing our character in the most genuine loving way. But we are not around for her when the drizzles start. The umbrella she's holding on rainy days seemed to be too wide for her to hold alone. No Kim or Robz  around to comfort her when nights of loneliness would creep her. The table seemed too spacious for her to eat alone. The house is too big to bumped with each other just like when we were still around making fussy noises...I miss those days. I miss her younger days.

The world is full of  intellectuals. The earth has produced skillful and high-achiever individuals. The gadgets worn out fast as everyday another one evolves. The days are fast. Everyone's pacing in their own rights and rhythms. The earth continues to revolve on its axis without anyone giving a damn. On the simple corner of the complicated world, there lies someone who don't know what iPad is, what Macbook Air looks like, what a blog is all about. But in that simple corner of the world is someone who dirtied her hands doing the hard stuffs, keeping Christmas gifts to be an "emergency fund", a graying hair and appearing laugh-lines. There lies someone who knows how to genuinely love, an expert in self-denial and delayed gratification. I could have received the highest medals in formal education and she's the deprived one, but compared to me and anyone of us, she's more intelligent. Because she doesn't live with her brain, she lives with her heart. And because of that, she's illuminating the brightest inner light. The light of SELF-LESS LOVE.

I am so ashamed to withhold love. I am so ashamed to deny others of love. How could I when all my life, I have seen and felt love.

Inspiration:  Leonor Venegas Tan 
Profile      :  Aunt of the author, single by choice
Expertise  :  Lingering Service in Self-giving

..you are your own hero..

Photo credits to Fr. Norbert Alvin Canada

It's redundant for me to say that I love my night shifts duty. It's the best time for me to make bonds with my work mates..getting to know them better and listen to their stories. This blogsite, when I decided to finally join the world of blogs had encouraged me not only to share my own stories but that of the people I have encountered with. As what my mentor said, storytelling is a form of ministry. Because you never know that one story could change the world.

For that matter, I wanted to feature another set of people here in my third place. This is just one of the articles I'll be publishing as Chameleon will celebrate its first year anniversary! yipeee=)

The best time of the month for us singles is Pay Day. That's needless to elaborate. Time to give ourselves some little pampering, feeding your vanity if ever you have one. We all our own set of obligations to the people that we love. Silently as I am enjoying that "highlight" of the month, there are other people who have there own set of sacrifices. Ate Ellen, our hippy and bubbly mother-figure,  is one of them. As for the record, she hasn't been home for the last five years. Hasn't attended five birthdays of her two sons, haven't been there in their five Christmas and summers. The sick days of her Josh when she's so busy attending our sick patients or the times Aidan got high grades and mom is not around to give him a pat on the back or that cheerful mommy-hug. The countless times she wished her sons were also eating in Jollibee whenever she step foot on the food store. Whenever she would say how she missed her boys and is helpless anyway. Because the reality of life strikes hard. I cannot fathom where she is getting the strength to endure the long years of not being there as a mom; as a wife. Where she is getting the patience to wait for the sun to rise and the moon to set  to call it another day. Hoping that it would turn faster to weeks, then to months and months to years until finally she will utter the words "I'm home". 

I can relate to her children's situation  since I was once an OFW's daughter. The motherless years are indeed the painful years. But As I look back, those were the most bravest years of my life. I can relate to her situation, because it's not easy to leave people behind. And in return, I guess, that the years mothers are not with their kids are also the most hardest years of their lives. But this is life. We live between the tension of two opposites. Whatever side we have chosen, it's always for the greater good.. in the name of Sacrifice..in the name of Service..in the name of Family..in the name of Love.

This blog would like to honor all of you who are in the same situation. Be it for someone who was left behind, who left a love one, who dared to go out of their comfort zones and fearlessly facing the reality of life. To give credits to all of you who are denying what is due for yourself for the sake of your family and the people who put their trust in you. To boost your courage that the true warrior is someone who possess weaknesses in the face of becoming a better person but chooses not to dwell on them but on his strengths to become the best. I would like to commend your strengths, your determination and perseverance, your  sacrifices and endurance wherever it is coming from. 

We all have our own anticipated heroes.You might not be in sword or under an armor.  But your heart, your character, your inner light are your strongest weapons. That's enough to say that at some point in your life, you are your own anticipated hero.