After the Storm

It was Christine Reyes who saved me.

Eye Bags and Aegyo-sal

A co-worker asked “So, how old are you?”

“24.”

“Ahhh.”

“Are you married? Any children?”

“Nope. Haggard lang po.”  (Nope. Just plain haggard.)

Sigh.

I was 8:30 am and I was in a 7-11 store wearing my best just-rolled-off-the-bed look when a guy from school suddenly appeared, pinched my cheek, and loudly said “Ang laki ng eye bags mo ah!” (Hey, your eye bags are huge!”)

Sigh.  I was born with eye bags. I like to think they’re aegyo-sal.

***

Pictures

I have a stolen picture—right-clicked it from someone’s Facebook account and saved it in my flash drive that I, for some reason, hang around my neck these days.  In the picture is an old lady celebrating her birthday (she’s a nonagenarian) and flocking around her is her daughter, son-in-law, and seven grandchildren.  It was a happy picture, but the first time I looked at it I was reduced to a tearful, giggling mess.

In the picture was my father. And my five older half-brothers. And my two younger half-sisters.

Now, just a short background, I have never met my father and had not known how he looked like until the day I found that picture. I just knew it was him, don’t ask me why.  Perhaps those soap opera scenarios do happen in real life.

I was giggling because he looked like Super Mario (honestly.)  He also looked like how my brother Martin would look when he’s fifty. (So brother dear, don’t grow a moustache, ever.) 

Now, in my Facebook account, I uploaded photos of me growing up, labeled according to how old I was in the picture, and I have one for almost every year of my life.

Maybe, just maybe, somebody would like to steal pictures of me, too.

The Online Classroom

If you have been reading here for a while, you know very well what I do for a living: I teach English to Korean students.  From 2006 until last June I worked in a company in Makati that offers Telephone English classes to its clients.  A month ago I started in another company in Alabang, and this time our classes are carried out online.  Ready with my headset and webcam, I sit in front of my office computer communicate with people a time zone away.

This kind of job has been steadily gaining popularity, and a great deal of call center people are leaving the stress of the BPO industry for the more relaxed atmospheres of online teaching centers. With the pay being almost the same or sometimes even greater, I understand why.

Teaching English online can be office-based, or home-based.  If you want to teach at home all that is required is a good internet connection, and of course the ability to communicate in English with a neutralized accent.

The system is very simple: the people over there in Korea take care of the marketing and liaison, and the teachers here just wait for a name to appear on their schedules.  In an 8-hour shift, teachers can be assigned a maximum of 12 twenty-minute classes here in my company.  The remaining time is of course used for class preparation: lesson plans and PowerPoint presentations. Teachers receive a basic salary and receive additional monetary incentives depending on the number of students.

For home-based teachers, the number of students would depend on one’s availability. The bulk of students is usually between 5:00-9:00am and 5:00-11:00pm Philippine time.  The only downside of home-based teaching is that the pay depends on how many students a teacher has, and how many classes are conducted within a pay period.

Many classes are conducted using Skype, but the company I belong to uses special software (pictured above.)  Both the student and teacher can write, type, or doodle on the screen using the mouse or a light pen.

The lessons and teaching materials differ from company to company. Only the objective is the same: to allow the students to express themselves in English and communicate with someone who speaks the language because in their native country, they have very little opportunity to do so.

Teardrops On My Guitar

Miraculously I found myself some free time and this is the result of the boredom.  I dunno why, when I talk to my students I pride myself in being so clearly understood all the time, but when I sing the words don’t come out right.

A Long Ride Home

So there I was on the shotgun seat of a jeepney going home, lost in my thoughts, taking sips from a cup of cold chocolate drink with that fancy whipped cream on top. Suddenly, a scawny boy of about eight appeared and tried to grab my drink from me, audaciously saying “Ate, akin na yan!” (Ate, just give that to me!”)

 

Instinctively I raised my hand with the drink away from him, and he continued trying to grab it while hanging on to the side of the moving jeepney. Good thing we were traversing the nightmare that was Alabang-Zapote road, forever bumper to bumper, so the jeepney was moving slowly. Still, the people on the jeepney were alarmed that the boy would fall, and I was quite sure many of them were thinking that since my cup was almost empty anyway, I should’ve just given it to the boy.

 

I didn’t.

 

Later on Ferdie would ask me why I didn’t, and I would tell him that that would teach the kid that he can just go around grabbing other people’s stuff whenever he wants to.  Had he asked , I would’ve given it to him.  

 

The kid, realizing he wouldn’t get what he wanted, turned to the driver and again boldly said “Penge na lang piso.” (Just give me one peso.) The driver also didn’t give him anything and I thought it good. One of my general rules in life is to not give money to beggars. I have my reasons, sue me.

 

 

The kid gave up and I went back to my thoughts. Just a short way past SM South Mall, there was a quick series of events: a screech, a scream, a crash.  Suddenly I was looking at a motorcycle on its side, with two people lying on the ground–a man and a woman. They didn’t seem to be hurt.

 

In seconds, the man was able to stand up, run around the front of the jeepney to the driver’s side, and punch our driver with a sickening crunch. I looked at the woman still lying on the ground and immediately hated the man who thought it was first priority to punch someone than to help his girlfriend/wife/sister get up. 

 

A lot of shouting ensued, and suddenly the motorcycle man was on my right side again, the driver on my left, screaming the foulest things at each other. I got off the jeepney and flagged another one.

 

This time I sat at  the back, just fervently wishing to get home soon. Nothing much happened on that ride, except that at one point the driver slowed down to where two MMDA officials in their peach uniforms were standing. The driver wordlessly handed something (which I’m sure is cash) to one MMDA official, and he casually accepted it without even glancing at the driver. This something was quickly transferred from hand to pocket, and the trip continued.

 

So I sat there and thought of my day—how I went to church and talked to some people and got it in my heart and head that God is in control, and then I went home and in one (or two, rather) jeepney ride I would be shown many reasons to think the opposite.

 

I finally reached my destination and in the 5-minute walk from A-Z road to my home I was able to figure out that the answers to my questions need not be processed rationally, the way I’m always compelled to do.  They are simple truths that require more heart and that big word faith and all that was needed to understand was willingness.

 

Now, I think of the world and all its crap and all I want to do to try to make things just a little bit better.  I think of my goals and my plans and I smile, knowing I have got the Greatest Back-Up.

My Name is Kat Carneo

I’m a full time teacher, a part-time student, a wedding coordinator,  and a volunteer.

And oh, yes, I’m a blogger too (almost forgot that.)

And just another tiny bit of information, today is my 24th birthday.

I hope to get back to blogging when I find the time.

The Intruder

Kat calls Ferdie…

Ferdie: Hello?

Kat: (panicky) Mahal, I have a problem.

Ferdie: (worried) Why what’s wrong?

Kat: There’s a spider in my room. I can’t sleep.

Ferdie: (sighs) Mahal naman… I’m in the bathroom, can I call you back?

Kat: Okay.

Five minutes later…

Kat: Hello?

Ferdie: Is the spider gone?

Kat: No, I ran away from it. I’m in the living room. I’m waiting for it to go away.

Ferdie: Mahal, you kill it.

Kat: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Ferdie: Mahal, remember that time when you went home and there was a bug on the bed, you got rid of it? That bug’s so much worse than a spider.

Kat: But…. but……the spider has eight eyes!!!!

Ferdie: (laughs) Of course. Get a broom and……

Kat: NOOO! I can’t kill it! I can’t do it! I cant!!!!

Ferdie: It’s just a house-spider, it’s harmless…

Kat: But…..but……It’s very hairy!!!!!

Ferdie: (laughs) Of course it’s hairy…

We spent twenty minutes on the phone discussing my problem and him convincing me that there was nothing that a spider could do to me, but, you know this movie Arachnophobia? I made the mistake of watching it when I was little and scenes from it kept flashing in my mind. I have no problem at all with the little jumping house spiders or those with the long thread-like legs often seen in bathrooms. But last night, pardon me for freaking out, the intruder in my bedroom  was this:

I asked a housemate’s help after I screamed my head off and almost wet my pants when my eight-legged visitor walked creepily across my wall. My housemate whacked it with a broom but missed, and it actually jumped off the wall and landed with a thud on the floor. It scuttled away and disappeared in the dark space under the stairs where I keep my shoes. Great. I’m wearing slippers to work today.