In one of my 1st classes this semester, my professor quoted Murphy's Law in her last slide. Her slide said, "If something will go wrong, it will go wrong." A classmate raised his hand and corrected her - "Ma'am, hindi ba dapat 'can' yung una? 'If something can go wrong, it will go wrong'?" The professor frowned at the projected slide and said, "Does it matter?"
And they went on with a short debacle that ended with Ma'am saying "Whatever, I'm not an English major!"
At that time, probably because I couldn't wait to get out of my seat after 85 slides, I couldn't care less what Murphy said. But in my mind I sided with my classmate.
I Googled it (define:Murphy's Law), and voila, here's the top result from www.crfonline.org/orc/glossary/m.html:
"If something can go wrong, it will go wrong."
Does it matter? Well, if you are talking to a roomful of opinionated professionals, it most probably does.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Disillusoned
A couple of nights ago I bumped into an old friend. The moment I saw the look in her eyes when she saw me, I knew - it was going to be a long night. Was I right.
It began with her saying "Tara na, tama na to." She was holding several shopping bags, and was referring to her trying to find a white bag to add to her spree. And then she added, "Magkape na tayo" as if trying to read my mind asking "Where to? "
Catching up began with small talk. Oh this is awkward, I said to myself. I knew I had to ask her the question. Even if I already knew what her answer would be. But what the heck, I wanted to get it over and done with. "So kamusta na kayo?" I went and gulped on whipped cream (I knew I needed sugar high). "Hay nako, wag mo na tanungin. Alam mo namang ayokong kinakamusta diba? Kasi nga nababati," came her response as if on cue. Parang hindi pa nailalagay yung question mark sa dulo ng question ko, may sagot na siya. Na ilang beses na naming narinig. Pero dahil kaibigan ko siya, I had to ask. I had to know if the bastard is still making her life the hell that it is. But what do you know, my friend already has this belief that if anybody asks her about her marriage, it would shake the status quo that is the ok-lang-hindi-kami-masyadong-nagaaway mode of her relationship with her husband.
It is pathetic. Just her coming up with that belief is. Pucha bawal mangamusta? Anona?
I thought that was the end of it. But then she went on and spilled the rest of her miserable life. Of lies, of alcohol and women, of money problems - both in excess and lack thereof, of constant quarreling in front of her innocent child, of her belittling in-laws, of her dysfunctional relationship with her father, of her older brother's selfishness and immature ways eating up on their Mom's savings, of her Mom's recent visit and operation. Of losing self-confidence, of losing herself in it all.
I tried to share my own life dilemmas, just to appease her that she's not carrying all the problems in the world. But I have to admit - my concerns pale in comparison to her emotional and psychological baggage. I feel it until now as I type it away, willing the heaviness to disappear in my writing.
On the way home I realized that what made her story so sad are not the circumstances per se. Rather, it was the resigned way she told them. It was as if she was convincing herself that everything is ok. It seemed that she gave up on her hopes and dreams of a happy life.
As soon as I closed my cab door, I cried. After the first tear fell to my cheek, the rest just can't help but flow. The cab driver must have thought I was crazy. I was tempted to tell him my infamous line to "Just drive" when I saw him peeking at me through the rear view mirror. But I got scared that he might leave me to walk SLEX all the way home.
I only stopped when it was time to pay the toll. I continued the drama in my bedroom. I felt like I was crying for her. For all the pains she experienced and continues to endure. I cried until my eyelids hurt so bad.
You say I'm emotional. You're damned right.
It began with her saying "Tara na, tama na to." She was holding several shopping bags, and was referring to her trying to find a white bag to add to her spree. And then she added, "Magkape na tayo" as if trying to read my mind asking "Where to? "
Catching up began with small talk. Oh this is awkward, I said to myself. I knew I had to ask her the question. Even if I already knew what her answer would be. But what the heck, I wanted to get it over and done with. "So kamusta na kayo?" I went and gulped on whipped cream (I knew I needed sugar high). "Hay nako, wag mo na tanungin. Alam mo namang ayokong kinakamusta diba? Kasi nga nababati," came her response as if on cue. Parang hindi pa nailalagay yung question mark sa dulo ng question ko, may sagot na siya. Na ilang beses na naming narinig. Pero dahil kaibigan ko siya, I had to ask. I had to know if the bastard is still making her life the hell that it is. But what do you know, my friend already has this belief that if anybody asks her about her marriage, it would shake the status quo that is the ok-lang-hindi-kami-masyadong-nagaaway mode of her relationship with her husband.
It is pathetic. Just her coming up with that belief is. Pucha bawal mangamusta? Anona?
I thought that was the end of it. But then she went on and spilled the rest of her miserable life. Of lies, of alcohol and women, of money problems - both in excess and lack thereof, of constant quarreling in front of her innocent child, of her belittling in-laws, of her dysfunctional relationship with her father, of her older brother's selfishness and immature ways eating up on their Mom's savings, of her Mom's recent visit and operation. Of losing self-confidence, of losing herself in it all.
I tried to share my own life dilemmas, just to appease her that she's not carrying all the problems in the world. But I have to admit - my concerns pale in comparison to her emotional and psychological baggage. I feel it until now as I type it away, willing the heaviness to disappear in my writing.
On the way home I realized that what made her story so sad are not the circumstances per se. Rather, it was the resigned way she told them. It was as if she was convincing herself that everything is ok. It seemed that she gave up on her hopes and dreams of a happy life.
As soon as I closed my cab door, I cried. After the first tear fell to my cheek, the rest just can't help but flow. The cab driver must have thought I was crazy. I was tempted to tell him my infamous line to "Just drive" when I saw him peeking at me through the rear view mirror. But I got scared that he might leave me to walk SLEX all the way home.
I only stopped when it was time to pay the toll. I continued the drama in my bedroom. I felt like I was crying for her. For all the pains she experienced and continues to endure. I cried until my eyelids hurt so bad.
You say I'm emotional. You're damned right.
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