Way back in college, one of my favorite subjects was Epistemology and Philosophy of Science. The theories, though may sound to contemporary science as relatively naive allowed me to view life and beliefs for that matter as relative. Throughout time, I guess one thing led to another- when faced about things that are new to me, I always try to give things the benefit of the doubt- I formulate a long series of what if’s and weave in my mind other theories that could have justify such an act.

It is only a few years ago that I realized, that somehow in the brutal state of affairs of the corporate world, sometimes close mindedness and egoism that are often mistaken by some people as “wisdom”, really did the trick.

One of the Communication Theories that I particularly became interested at when I was still doing my Masteral’s Degree was the Face Negotiation Theory of Ting-Toomey in 1985. This theory have undergone multiple alterations, in which most recent update was in 2005.

I just came back from a meeting that have made me agitated for a couple of days. It was primarily about an issue that is political in nature, rather than technical, which should have been the case.

Talking with their boss somehow made me anticipate that our discussion would be more professional and helpful in nature. Surprisingly, all she did was place the blame on our company for the fact that two of our application development dependencies are under their umbrella.

Instead of acknowledging that they lack the appropriate coordination and initiative between their people, what she did was blame me for simply not talking with the “right person” (even though there is really no one who knows how to solve the problem).

Whats worse is that despite the fact that I have already addressed the issue to their appropriate point person, the aforementioned  simply do not want to make the effort of solving the problem. Perhaps they are waiting for a red carpet rolled down before they lift their asses out of their swivel chairs.

The past few weeks, the Philippines had been hardly hit by two super typhoons: Ketsana and Parma. Thousands of families were left homeless; millions were lost from infrastructure wreckages, submerged properties and damaged businesses; and hundreds of lives were taken. The response of both local communities, international governments and private sectors and other institutions were overwhelming. A handful of people donated cash, goods, clothing and President Gloria even offered the Malacanang Palace as a refuge for those who have submerged homes most especially those living in Marikina, Taytay and Pasig.

A lot of perspectives were already written, reported and expressed regarding the philanthropic act of may volunteers. This is another perspective viewed in a different angle: neurological and philosophical.

The rule of the Taliban from 1996 to 2001 had denied Afghan women almost all basic human rights: security and protection from all types of danger, health and medical assistance, personal development and even freedom of expressing themselves. Afghan women are forced to cover themselves from head to toe, and even mandated to cover their eyes.

The rule of Islamic extremists in the country have made women second class citizens, and at worse having a disposition similar to slaves. Afghan women who used to be doctors and teachers were forced to beg and prostitute themselves just to feed their families.

His heart raced wildly against his chest. Perspiration rushed down his forehead, down his eyelids- his sight blurred. It was a split second, yet he knew that it was a distraction- a diminutive mistake that could not be avoided- the interplay of his biology and the laws of physics.

He opened his eyes anticipating a defeat that he wanted to rationalize that would not transpire. He froze. The rush of air pressure against his nape- it was in parallel with heightened dread. A hard object violently landed his head- the pain was sharp and lingered hastily all over his body.

He tried to regain his composure but another force hit him, and another and another. His pale body landed the moss-filled floor of his old high school. He stared at the fluorescent seemingly embracing his mind with fear and helplessness- from there he knew it was all over, he lost.

The dry wind and the sand of the sub-Saharan desert moved like a symphony- the oneness, the united purpose. Warm rays of the sun made the sand glow with magnificence- the rush of the eastern monsoon on an early December elicited a stature of dominance to the abandoned place. Gabriel slowly opened his eyes- recollecting what he was on an absolute past. His eyes dilated, uncertainty and fear plastered his face. He reached for the back of his head- his hair damp with blood were mixed with sand. Staring at his scarlet hand, he knew it was not a dream.

Gabriel stood up like a dying lamb at the middle of furnace. The pain on his head was gone- he touched his face- he could not feel anything. He raced the desert- attempted to empty his psyche of dread and pain- but from it escaped none. Gabriel sat down and tilted his head up- the brightness of the sun did not hurt his eyes.

“Could it be that I’m…” Gabriel wanted to dismiss the idea.

“But I always thought that if it really exists, it should be more than this”

Gabriel shook his head. He knew this place could not possibly exist. Or maybe it is time that his subjective reality governed by the law of probability must be overhauled.

Is this the proof that he have waited for so long?

(To be continued…)

The highly capitalistic society that one thrives in measures one’s worthiness in terms of the job that one has: the label, the paycheck, the amount of satisfaction together with the professional advancement that is being incurred in the aforementioned, matters a lot.

Swallowing my huge ego, which is by the way, only me is aware of and deciding to once again enslave myself in the so-called proletariat group, makes me ponder on how can this whole capitalistic bullshit be lesser evil.
Fortune 500 companies owed its success from various industry best practices that are overwhelmingly flooding western countries. In countries like the Philippines, a lot of corporations and small scale businesses though aware in principle of this so-called ethical ways of doing business are shall I say too financially gluttonous and could be at times too conservative in ways of handling their businesses.

The Greek philosopher Heraclitus said that the only constant thing in life is change. More than two years ago, one of my closest friends went back in the country to take a vacation from her work. I must say, I felt like nothing had changed ever since we graduated from high school.  Princess went back to Dubai and continued with her career for the next two years. It was only three weeks ago that she came back and spent her early vacation due to the death of her father.

My first glimpse of her was the physical: she wearing her house clothes, her long curly hair hanging down, and eyes filled with hidden pain. I have to spend a couple of seconds internalizing the fact that, she indeed is already home.

Do you still remember the day that you were circumcised?

Did you feel any pain during the procedure?

Maybe you did, maybe you did not. My youngest brother told me that the healing process is more painful than the actual process itself. Of course there is anesthesia, and the nurse or doctor provided you the assurance that she or he knows what she or he is doing, and the entire process is really safe and hygienic. The doctor perhaps used his newly sterilized tools and made you sit in a clean white linen while keeping your mind adrift by giving a little chit chat.

But what if let us say, that instead of letting you sit in a squeaky clean bed, the doctor decided to have you seated in a dusty old wooden stool; and instead of scissors and knives, you saw thorns, broken pieces of glass and perhaps an old and rusty razor blade; would you still wish to continue? And just as you think the situation could never been more worse, you’re parents forced you to do it not because you’re a boy, but because you’re a girl.

A few months ago, the country has been bombarded by campaigns promoting awareness of the most dreaded virus of human immunodeficiency, or more commonly known as AIDS. Earlier this month known director Pecque Gallaga’s son went out to the public and told to the whole country that he is positive. I was able to watch a short portion of his interview in a late night program in one of the Philippine’s local channels, and I can say that the way he looked at his disposition is very optimistic. I must agree, Filipinos would not know the gravity of the virus if positive people would go hide themselves from the public, or treat the sickness as a sort of death sentence.

I have the feeling, for some reasons “death” wants me to fear him (lets just assume for the sake of amusement that he is a male).  A week ago, I witnessed two separate accidents, in which I saw two people died; and not a week has passed yet, the van that I am riding to Ayala got hit by a Jeep in the ever traffic exempted Pasong Tamo, what the odds huh.  Last Saturday, I learned that my Mom just got the results of her medical test, confirming that she has breast cancer.

Well, don’t get me wrong, I really feel devastated the day when I learned about my Mom and I really wish that if I can just have her cancer instead (though this is an entirely different sentiment). But strangely, I got mixed emotions when people dread death; looking back on the two separate accidents that I witnessed, when people at the bus realized that those people lying face down on the Imus road were already dead, I pondered if I shall have fear, or just shrug my shoulders and say, that this is just part of life.

Perhaps, people like me always wonder on the meaning of life; if its really worth to think that my value as a person will be measured by my everyday experiences and utilities that I may or currently giving to people. Is it worthy to say that I can find “meaning” if I chose to, if I change my frame of mind? Is it worthy to say that my subjective reality is enough opium for me to take-in, giving me temporary euphoria, when all this time, I know that all of these process are just causes and effects, interactions that even if I desire to not bound my self to do, would still continue in full operation.