Showing posts with label love your work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love your work. Show all posts

Thursday, October 03, 2013

Obra et labora

Aga sa opisina nakatukaw ka sa imo nga lamesa, garo binubutingting an mga files sa saimong vertical folders. Garo igwa kang pigpaparahanap. Makiling ka sa wala, bubuksan an sulong-sulong kan lamesa. Maka’lot kan buhok ta garong naggagatol. Sa orasan mo, alas nwebe y media pa sana. Magagayon palan an pagkahilera mo kan mga folder. Matindog ka, magayon gayod magtahar kan mga lapis na ini. Haralaba pa pero pudpod na an mga puro. Taharan mo an duwa.

Sige, maglista ka kan mga tatapuson mo ngonyan. Ano na ngani to? Ano na ngani si huri mong project? Garo si folder sa puro an eenoton mo, bakong iyo? Garo baga dai pa natapos si sa sarong project. Dai pa palan tapos an ginigibo mo sa file na ito. Taposon mo muna to. Mag-apod ka muna. Apodan mo si kaopisina sa balyong department. Ano na ngani si tuyo mo saiya?

Sa poon, pormal man daa an pataratara nindo sa kada saro. Ito man daang obra sa opisina man nanggad. Ara atyan, mauunambitan mo saiya na nagtaas na naman an gasolina kaya garo naisipan mong mag-commute na sana pasiring sa opisina. Ay iyo? Maistorya na man si nasa balyo na pig-iingatan niyang dai magparakakan nin mahahamis kawasa at risk siya na magka-diabetes, sabi kan doktor niya. Hambal mo na logod saiya na updan ka niyang magparegister sa Mayor’s Fun Run sa Domingo ta nganing makaexercise man kamo, bako sanang anas trabaho. Sige na logod, atyan na lang. Tibaad magkadungan kamo sa lunch sa canteen, sabi. 

Haen ka na ngani kansubago? A, gigibuhon mo na palan itong surat para sa LGU, pero garo break time na. Magkape ka muna. Mantang nagkakape, habo mong pagparairisipon si mga ginigibo mo. Mapapanlingaw ka. Pagkatapos mabuwelta ka na sa lamesa mo, yaon an gibong dai mo matapostapos. Sige, poon ka na.

Nawalat mong bukas an door, ta garo mainit sa laog kansubago. May malaog na kabisto. Siya ni idtong saro man na parapalimanliman. Mabâbâ. Siya ni idtong kadakul aram na paiplî—tsismis sa opisina, mga manlaen-laen na kamanungdanan sa pamilya, mga kung anong uso sa Shangri-la o Divisoria; mga katuyawan sa mga nag-aasensong pag-iriba, sagkod kung ano-anong klase nin paghagad sang simpatiya.

Ika man pigpaparadangog mo nanggad siya, pareho kamong mga parapalimanliman. Sibot-sibot man daa kamo sa saindong ginigibo; dai man talaga kamo nagtatrabaho. Mga kabangang oras an masasayang sa urulay nindo. Mahali na an amigo mo kawasa nag-ring na an telepono. Sisimbagon mo. Nakangirit ka ta sibot ka na naman kuno.

Makukulbaan ka ta an nag-apod kinnukulibat ano na an nangyari sa project sa enot na folder kansubago. Masimbag ka saiyang kadakulon ka pa kayang pigtatapos. Sákô gid, silíng mo. Sige logod, sabi niya. Maghilingan na sana daa kamo sa amo ning oras sa amo ning lugar, para i-discuss idtong project. Iyo. Sa scratch paper mo sa desk, bibilugan mo idtong project na pinagiromdom saimo. Ini an eenoton mo.

Lunch na palan. Sige, pangudto ka na muna lugod. Sa cafeteria makakan ka. Igwang sarong kaopisinang maagi sa saimong lamesa. Namarapara? Kinukumusta ka sa saimong obra. Kadakuldakul kong gibo, masimbag ka.



Susog sa “Natural and Unnatural Time” na yaon sa Time and the Art of Living ni Robert Grudin. Nalagda sa New York: Harper and Row, 1982, p. 163.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

In June of that year


In June of that year, you started tutoring Seth, a freshman and Zandro, a sophomore—both were newcomers in the school where you chose to teach.

Seth appeared cool and quiet, but there was much eagerness when he started talking about himself, his participation in class and school activities, and other things he does in school or at home. He was a growing young boy whose parents whom you chanced to meet desired much good for him. Composed, serene, you saw in him a promising young man who will make a name for himself.

Meanwhile, Zandro was the bubbly type, always wearing a smile, and always less serious and preferred to read ghost stories, not to mention that he was an avid online gamer himself. He wanted to be a nurse because he wanted much money—lots of it. He said he would have to work abroad so he could always provide for himself. Also, he always wanted to eat. 

Every now and then you would excuse the two boys from their classes to chat with them. To you they always sounded hopeful—in anticipation of the chats with you. You would talk to them about how to help their parents do chores in the house, study harder so they would not flunk any class or be good sons to their parents. You also talked to them about how to gain friends in school. Seth said he had new friends—all of the freshmen were his friends. The playful Zandro confessed how he would participate in the sophomores’ horseplay in between class sessions or even during classes. 

In your chats, you approached them like they were your younger brothers. At first you mentally prepared your questions for them. Later, you would just talk to them very casually. Through the days, they had become your friends, so to speak. The chats you had had with them had gone smooth and personal, like they were your younger brothers. Your words would usually end up as friendly pieces of advice for these young boys growing up. And how they sounded so real, so convincing to them. 

Every time you talked to them, you thought you saw yourself in them. You saw enthusiasm in the things they did or wanted to do. They were struggling to become themselves. Full of hope and anticipation, the boys had a lot to live and to learn. They always appeared as if they had to know a lot of things. 
Continually you had told them how to be always good, and would always ask them about how they would fare up to virtues like charity and service, honesty and truthfulness, diligence and stuff. Talking about these virtues with these boys made you aware of your own shortcomings. It made you start to ask again your own life question. It made you want to quantify your own [sense of] achievement. 

Though you’d gone that far, you had not really gotten far enough to try to live sensibly—with a definite purpose. You thought you had to have a definite purpose. Just like them, then, you seemed to long to fling your arms wide open to the world and take on what life really had in store for you.

In June of that year.

Songs of Ourselves

If music is wine for the soul, I suppose I have had my satisfying share of this liquor of life, one that has sustained me all these years. A...