Grinched

It’s been a looong time since my last post.

And it’s only because I didn’t want to or feel like doing it. Not that I had crap like I’m too busy or something. I always have time for everything, including joining friends if I want to, that I say “I’m too busy” only when I really don’t want to. Something tells me I’m id-driven after all. But I don’t refuse favors from residents or from anyone when it comes to research consultation – I’m not sure if it’s an implicit code of ethics or something.

Despite that revelation, I would still say that working freelance for residents and professors kept me stuck from coming to important events in this season’s festivities. I wasn’t able to attend the CPH Xmas party, the EAMC Ob-Gyne Department party and the high school mini-reunion party. IPHM is history and until now we had no plans for reunion at all. Failing to meet old friends is just frustrating and somewhat gratifying at the same time. Besides, I’ve been trying to avoid social gatherings as part of my soulsearching saga. And honestly, I’m not afraid to become anti-social in the process of seeking what I really want for myself – special thanks to Ayn Rand.

I’m currently enjoying my family’s company in between rest days of my freelance career. At the least I met my former PH classmates for lunch and had a great time. I was also able to spend more time jamming with my old high school friend in his place. The only Christmas party I attended was with a band of musicians, my classmates and music major students together forming a chamber orchestra playing new pieces and Christmas carols the whole day. I hardly knew everyone else, but it was the best.

Now that is another entry.

I haven’t even bought gifts for anyone. Napaka-Grinchy ko pala. Well, I bought my parents a laptop (yes Jeng, I bought Mensup for only P2500 hehehe) and also bought myself a Yamaha keyboard from a dear PH classmate, that’s all. I haven’t even bought any new “necessity” for me despite the urgent need to do so. Zippers on my bag and my pants fail to zip, and I hate it when things don’t zip anymore. But gifts for me has to pass for now. I’m too ashamed to those who are so thoughtful to give me presents. I assure you someday you shall be rewarded. By moi. *Hugs*

Going to church? Don’t even ask about it.

I know this coming year will be spacious for me. Hopefully I’ll have more time for myself as a bum mocking myself to finish my thesis and graduate from my masters course. But I have this gut feel that I should not finish my course yet. Because if I do, I’d have to leave the country to work for nagging bosses in the international community, as I’ve always wanted. I want more time for myself, more than what I have now.

And I’m not even expecting myself to write posts more often.

Anyway, let’s just enjoy this season while it lasts.

Humor-esque

Playing “Humoresque” in front of a tough audience is one of the most embarrassing yet fulfilling events of my artistic life.

I had my second violin recital last Saturday. Papa, Kuyang, my violin classmates, PH classmate and barkada Ruthie, my maestro, and strangers who would seemingly represent if not constitute the entire nation, watched my ultimate humiliation. Kuyang even immortalized it with our video cam.

Starting the day right, I woke up late for my lesson at 10 am. I only had 15 minutes to prepare for that class and my fabulous performance that afternoon, and I haven’t even had my practice for my recital, much less for the orchestra. But still, I kept my natural, slow pace, as always, as I thoroughly caressed my body in the bathroom, meticulously set my long black hair, ironed my pink manly shirt, looked for a pair of black leather shoes. I came to UST an hour late.

I have good vibes with my maestro that day, like every week that we meet. People were smiling at me when I clumsily entered the classroom. They actually stopped what they’re playing just for me (Aaawww, they like me!) and waited until I was ready. Was it because of the pink shirt? I guess. It was starting out just right. I was with my violin classmates the whole time until the right moment came.

I think this group of different sorts of individuals will be my kind of gang for the next few years. I was quite grateful that our common teacher united us this way. I’ve always said to them, “Buti na lang at pinagsama-sama tayo ni Sir… pwede na natin siyang pagkaisahan! Hahaha!” Kidding aside, I think if I were to be given an opportunity to study or work abroad right now, I would have second thoughts of accepting it. I can not cease to ignore the potential this clan I am with every Saturdays has.

Anyway, so I was again in the recital hall that afternoon, feeling awkward due to my lack of practice and confidence. When I looked into the programme, I saw my name as the tenth recitalist. It was a good sign. Last recital, I was third in line, and the beginners are always prioritized. I also observed that we were a better variety – we had a guitarist, two trumpeters, four violinists (including moi) a young pseudo-premadonna, and seven pianists. Unfortunately, I still was the oldest.

What made me more anxious was the that trumpeter before me gave me an awkward prelude with his loud finale. When I was on stage, I realized that I could not tune my own violin that I had to walk toward my teacher and ask him to tune it. I had a weak start, which made my entire performance weak. I also had notes that were completely out of tune. I sometimes apologize for the inexpensiveness of my instrument. Fine maple wood gives superior sound quality, they said.

I do not need anyone to tell me my “areas of improvement” on that performance. Watching the recorded video footage, I know that my posture was inferior, my facial expressions showed too much uneasiness, I obviously reacted to every mistake I made, and worst of all, I was flabby and fat.

That’s it, I said. I’m a mediocre, as I chose to be. Unrehearsed and tense as I was during my first recital, my smart look did not cover my flaws. Oh well. But I was happy, though, for Ruthie, also inspired to pursue learning the violin, saw me perform – I have become an inspiration to humanity. Chenes.

I was surprised when my teacher sent me a message, bidding his congratulations and asking how I felt. It was really heartwarming of him (Aaaww, he likes me…). We agreed that I need to get rid of my stage fright and practice some more. As he said, It’s all part of the game. So, as a result of this heartwarming exchange to text messages, I was opt to have my next recital on Saturday at Sta. Isabel College.

I decided to play “Humoresque” again not only for the sake of my own “humor,” but also for the sake of perfection. As I quote my repeater classmate in San Beda, “It is sweeter the second time around.”

I hope that this time I have more hours of practice and ego boosting. So I’d better end this post and go home (I’m still in the office hehehe).

IQ 101 (Career Calamity: Special Edition)

I was tuned in Channel 7 and watched “100% Pinoy,” which featured a few past and present “gifted” kids. I have learned about Shaira Luna, a former Promil user who discussed the cardiovascular system over a 15-second commercial several years back. She went into De La Salle University at the age of 12. However, she shifted from her pre-med course to other courses several times and eventually discontinued her college education. She is now working as a freelance photographer.

A La Salleian friend said that they were seeing Shaira in La Salle and were making fun of her. When she passed by them, she was teased by saying, “Uy, ayan na ang mga planets! Wooooh…” (pointing a finger up and forming circles).

“What are you helling at?” said Shaira (as what my friend claimed).

“HELLING naman pala eh! Akala ko ba Promil kid ka, bakit ang bobo mo?” Enough about La Sallian culture.

Poor Shaira - pressured by a society that tagged her as a young genius. Entering college at an early age, and with very high expectations from everyone, I believe she was burned out. Now, like any other young adults, she is faced with a dilemma of what career path to take. The end point: she did not graduate in spite of her high IQ. I don’t say that having a college degree is the best measure of achievement, but in her case, she could have at least finished her course, and then get exposed to other career possibilities after. Like me. I hope it won’t happen to my cousin/sister, Sophia, who was in the same situation where she could not choose what course to take. Not that she's a genius, but she is multi-talented, and can go to any course she want, based on her aptitude test. I hope she will finish her currently chosen course, environmental biology, and if she needs to venture in other tracks, she will do that after graduating. Like me. I do not favor "ningas-kugon" mentality when it comes to career undertaking.

Anyway, moving on. “100% Pinoy” also mentioned MENSA (I forget what it stands for), an association comprised of the top 2% highest IQ in the country, or in the world, in which each member made good on a particular IQ test and had proven that he's a genius. So what’s the purpose of MENSA anyway? Makakuha nga ng exam hehehe.

But seriously, am I a wiz kid, err, person? When my doctor aunt first saw me as an infant, she feared that I might have hydrocephalus. No, I only had an enlarged brain. And as what I remember, my IQ test result in high school was superior. Ano na kaya ngayon? Will I have the same IQ if I now take the exam? But what I know is I’m a Jack of All Trades. I know how to do a lot of things aside from the sciences: I can draw, paint, sing (ahem) dance (ahem-ahem) and play the violin (harrrgh!). A master of none? I’m not quite sure.

Sayang. If I only had a more encouraging environment to better improve my skills and talents when I was a growing kid, or in short, if only my parents were richer, I could have been brainier. For instance, I should have started learning how to play the violin when I was, say, four. That is why I envy rich and motivated kids.

Poor country. If only every Filipino kid had his opportunity to grow up thinking of no other concerns except enhancing his skills and, well, EQ, we would be a country full of wiz kids. Eh di uunlad sana ang bansa.

But although poor, I believe there are a lot of smart and talented Filipinos. Despite our environment, there still are venues in which Filipinos were able to enhance their skills and talents. I think it is better to be passionately struggling for survival and achievement in a repressed environment than to live in an overflourished one where one can hardly think of necessity for improvement. The only issue is the Filipino attitude to respond to that necessity.

I’m now hearing opinions that the Filipino youth nowadays, whether with high or low IQ, do not know what to do after graduating in college. In other words, they lost track of their ambitions. Is it because of the scarcity in human-development-friendly career opportunities? I think so. Kasi naman. In terms of the scientific world, how is the society responding to new local innovations in research and technology? In terms of the arts, how are we responding to our countrymen’s artistic achievements? I do not see that in the media, except in the “society” pages. Is it because of Filipino’s inferiority complex, that only foreigners or the rich can do whatever they want?

Like the “ningas-kugon” mentality, I do not favor tolerance of human degradation due to inferior environment. I believe in the competence of the human mind amidst adversaries. Man should dictate the necessity of his environment, and not vice versa. And going back to the IQ subject, I disagree that those with higher IQ will have greater achievements. All that is needed is motivation and extra effort.

At this moment, I am in a state of brain drain, like this country.

An Af-fur to Remember

*I'm not quite sure what my cat's gender exactly is. But for the sake of this post, let's assume she's female.*

I never thought I would fall in love with a cat.

I remember the first day I laid eyes on her. It was a sunny morning. I was fixing my look in front of the mirror and almost ready to go to work when suddenly Papa, my father, caught my attention.

Papa: Jay, may kuting sa labas ng gate.
Charvie: ...Eh ano naman ngayon?
Papa: Kasi nakasabit siya sa imburnal...

There she was, right outside our gate, crying as if there was no tomorrow. Her body was hanging as her head got stuck between the steel bars covering our sidewalk's manhole. Her saliva covered her entire neck. She was traumatized and delirious. Papa and I took her inside and nursed her. Realizing that we didn't have milk at that time, I prepared her a few milliliters of mixture of Coffee-mate, Milo and water. She could not walk - she was only several days older than a newborn litter.

Assuming she had enough nourishment, I decided to leave her in a flower box outside our gate, hoping that her relatives would come to fetch her. I asked Papa to take a look at our patient while I was gone for work. When I got back, I checked her condition and fed her. Two days have passed and she was still where I was leaving her, taken inside and fed every once in a while with a mixture I doubted was sufficient for her health. In rained on the third day, and I had to make a drastic move. Three days had passed and no other cats bothered to get her. Rainy days had started and she had to be taken care of, or she'd die. I took her in and brought her up to our balcony.

I called her Nge-Nge. Short for bangenge.

I bought a can of evaporated milk just for her. I had to use my small beaker and even buy a medicine dropper just so I could effectively feed her. Every morning and night, I made sure she had more than she needed. One time, I misdiagnosed her to have a worm infection, finding out later on that she was only "bondat." I even gave her a bath every week and made sure she had some exercise before I left her.

She grew up gracefully. See this as proof.

I observed her hopping faster everyday. At first I was protecting her from my our two hounds, Yoko and Skipper, but Nge-Nge eventually adapted and bravely played "tag" with them. She even earned my respect by hunting down two mice lurking in the corners of our house - a recognition Yoko and Skipper never earned. See this. I even allowed her to sleep with me in my bed. I always heard her motor-like purr when she's near my ear and crawling on my body while I was half asleep. Somehow I got used to have someone crawling over me. Kidding.

She was doing quite well, except for her shit; it stinked. My mom hated cleaning and removing the stench of Nge-Nge's litter. Moreover, they claimed, and I somehow agreed, that having three pets is too much for our household. My parents did not buy the benefit of keeping a mouse hunter in the house. They made sure that I always heard from them that Nge-Nge had to go. I was ignoring them, thinking that it was not yet the right time. She's too young, I thought, and might die out there.

As I came home from work one night, Papa reported that Nge-Nge made her way out of the balcony and ran away. I was furious. I remember myself ranting at my parents that their wish was granted. And then I lost hope overnight. She's dead, I assumed.

She came back the next day.

From then on, I realized that Nge-Nge was an intelligent creature after all. Knowing she's back and safe made me realize that I was wrong. She will survive. And our house isn't big enough for all of us. My parents were right. She had to go - and she did. Mommy saw the opportunity when her pupils had a sports activity in their school. She brought Nge-Nge with her, together with the pupils who would take care of her from then on. As what I've heard, one of Mommy's pupils adopted her. I always assume that she is still in good hands.

There is no greater miracle than to save and nurture life.

Cultured-ish

You won't believe where I was last night.

I was watching an opera at the CCP Tanghalang Nicanor Abelardo with my violin classmates. It was Tchaikovsky’s “Eugene Onegin,” produced by UST (Whooh! Go Uste!). It’s about a story of a man feeling sorry for rejecting a woman’s love. Morale: Frustration begets frustration.

It was nice, except that I don’t understand a shit – it was Russian. I had to buy an overpriced but worthless programme to understand what’s going on, only to find out that only one page was allotted for the story and the rest of the print were advertisements and the production's and the cast members’ crappy achievements. Even its layout was designed like trash. Hay, CCP.

Unfortunately, the dances were not well-choreographed. I like the costumes and the simplicity of the props though. I admire Russian, so It's fine.

But what I love about it was Tchaikovsky’s music – a real genius – and the orchestra responsible for the live music, including my Maestro Macazo hehehe. Bravissimo! Okay, fine, I’m impressed with the singers too.

By the way, did you know that Peter Il’yich Tchaikovsky, my favorite composer, was handsome and gay? Thanks to wikipedia for the info and the pic. Read this for more.

The last live play I watched before this was “Zsa Zsa Zaturnnah: Ze Muzikal” by Carlo Vergara, starring Eula Valdez and the fags. Wagi! Panalo ka sister! And before that, I think, was Miss Saigon, starring Leah Salonga and the brown and white people. Da best.

I appreciate now why we were exposed in such theatrical environments in high school - to have a feel of being a cultured brat. Hahaha. Kidding.

I’m looking forward to the next cultural experience. I hope that, by then, language barrier will no longer be an issue.

Yum-in-a-box

I'm currently working on a desk in an office that looks like a house and is said to be haunted by an old lady and her grandchild. But I'm not afraid. I just have to acknowledge their presence and I'm safe. And it's still raining. Shit.

I'm currently working and at the same time writing my post. Actually, I'm not working. I'm typing my post. It's 8:20 pm and I'm still here. Why? I don't know.

But what I know is I'm in an office. Alone. An office. May trabaho pala ako? *smirk*. Problem is, most of the time I'm inside this box. I was dreaming of far more exciting jobs than this, say investigating an outbreak or implementing a health program in the community. But not this. I'm no better than a clerk - only a lot smarter and more commanding. So I had my 5-day field work in Iloilo and Cebu, big deal! Compared to months of staying here in this haunted office, that field work only seemed like a day-off in a whole year of work.

But I have to admit, I've learned a lot about work ethics and more about me unethically working. I don't need "criticism, self-criticisim" for that, which, by the way, was done here quite often. I don't want to think about them right now (I might collapse - I still have deadlines you know), but suffice it to say, I'm not the most efficient person in the world.

This office will be closed soon and somehow I'm sad about it.

But someday, I will put up my own office. It will be elegant and smart. Just like its boss. And by that time, I will be much more efficient.

The rain is out. This yummy's gotta go. Hehehe.

IPHM Kong Mahal

Sa aking mga kasamahan sa IPHM, sa ating mga paghihirap sa ngalan ng kalusugan, sa ating pakikisalamuha sa iba't-bang elemento ng proyektong pangkalusugan at pananaliksik. Sa mga aliping sagigilid at aliping namamahay na hindi nakakauwi nang tamang oras, ni hindi nakakakain nang sapat (Kaya't dinadaan na lamang sa pagpasok nang tanghali na). At sa mga Pilipinong naghahangad ng magandang kalidad ng buhay. Para sa inyo ang mga larawang ito. Mabuhay tayo!

DOGMA

Last night, I finished reading an old fiction novel, “The Fountainhead” by Ayn Rand. And at that time, I started meticulously reassessing the value of human existence.

As Miranda Priestly said it… “Groundbreaking.”

It is about an egotistic architect who never compromised his genius innovations to collaboration and cooperation with what Rand coined as “second-handers.” At the end, he stood victorious on the top of his greatest skyscraper. After finishing the last page, I was moved to research Ayn Rand and all the philosophies tied to her name: objectivism, egotism, as well as altruism, collectivism and communism. I was like a Borg drone assimilating information from the cyberspace. I never conceived that I would be reaffixed in concepts I have abandoned since I left the school paper and would think a lot like this in centuries – All because of a book of philosophy embedded in an architectural theme.

I ask myself, have I been an altruist all these years? As far as my values are concerned, I have admired selfless love and service for others and somehow rejected the opinions of egotistic eggheads. I planned my profession based on humanitarian objectives. The Church did not absolutely enforce me this, rest assured, but my urge in life has been in the service of the common good, for humanity as a Gift to God. I think my deceased grandmother, a teacher, a public servant, taught me this.

Then I remember my battle in the school newspaper. I saw myself asserting a selfish philosophy and using all my power to publish it in a paper that I believed was corrupted by individuals who would die for collectivism. My article discussed the vehement rejection of imposition of philosophies, condemning it as the gravest crime to humanity, and I roused independent reason and free thought to the readers, not knowing that I was becoming Ayn Rand. Having so much faith in my reason, I fought for it like a monster. At that time, I felt alone. I was alone. No one would support my monstrosity against a radical collectivist belief, knowing it was too monstrous that it would compromise a lot of things, save my colleague’s reputation. And at times I somehow regretted my actions, considering that in the public’s current way of thinking, I was wrong to defend individualism as it would break cooperation and collaboration among and within organizations, whatever their nature. That was the last assertion of my faith to human purpose. After that, I shut up. And then this.

So, am I an altruist or an egotist?

Rand failed in setting boundaries in depicting altruism and egotism in her work. Her characters who should have stood for altruism are, in reality, egotists who hunger for power and recognition, while her protagonists, who are supposedly selfish and egotistic, value humanity in their own ideals. Perhaps she subconsciously but perfectly put it that way, making me realize that there is no personal boundary at all.

In my understanding, altruism in principle is sacrificing one’s own values, morals and ideals, dignity and reason for other’s gratification, as what Rand suggested. While in practice, altruism is the use of physical or mental energy for the betterment of mankind. I like the latter better.

On the other hand, egotism in principle is safeguarding one’s own values, morals and ideals, dignity, even creativity and reason from others. Egotism in practice is the use of one’s energy to satisfy his need for pleasure, recognition, self-respect and power, such things that he believes he do not possess. I surely despise the latter.

An old philosophical opponent expressed her opinion, in literal terms, that unity in diversity is bullshit. As I interpret it, she rejects objectivism, the reason of an individual, the “I,” and glorifies collective thought without question, the “we and no one else.” I met her once in a jeepney ride but never looked at her twice. I can not stand to see an altruist in principle but an egotist in practice. Little did she know, like any other prophets of the leftist youth, that practicing one’s expression of opinion, whether original or plagiarized, to a public, whether diverse or brainwashed, is a form of egotism, refuting her own philosophy.

I will observe the social dynamics throughout the years and see branded individualists and collectivists struggle for political and economic power. I will look at faces of the youth blinded by loyalty to a belief that wasn’t their own. I will hear hypocrites denouncing individual rights to a collective cause, knowing at the back of their heads that the basic unit of a collective is an individual. I will die accepting a world with political animals setting boundaries to boundless morals and philosophies for futile applications.

But I will live as I was born and nurtured to live --- to work and achieve, to serve and lead. I will respect humanity as an individual and as a society.

For one can not help others without helping oneself. One can not cooperate with compromised faculties. He is not part of something if he is nothing.

My credo: egotism in principle, altruism in practice.

Buy it. Read it.

That’s an order.

No Coffee This Time

Yep. Just clouds.

Had my 6th stick. Caused me chest pain. Made tears in my eye.

I don’t know. Maybe the unmet deadlines. Or the anxiety for tomorrow’s session.

Or the future loss of my beloved cat. Currently embracing him. Will be gone tomorrow.

To miss you.

Wanna make a sonnet for Nge-Nge, but too groggy for that.

The violin perhaps.

Maybe the sad songs.

Or the loss.

I love you.

Goodbye.

Just Kidding

Kids easily grow up.

I just saw my cousin’s note in my room. It mentioned that they were leaving our house, requesting me to copy a CD game for her and hoping I would join them in our weekend trip in Lucban. Unfortunately, I had a project to finish in my professor’s house that weekend so I wasn’t able to keep my promise to join them. Somehow I regretted that I took the project and could not commit to my family duties, specifically as “Kuyang” to my cousins. I wanted to join them and have the best hours together while they (Sophia and Roxanne) are still kids. They will be back in Geneva after a couple of days.

Somehow I realize that they are not kids anymore. A few years back, they were only writing scribbles on pieces of paper, forming letters as toddlers. But now, they can communicate very well, not only in Filipino and in English but in French too (voila!). After a few years, Roxanne will be in college and Sophia will graduate hopefully as an environmental biologist. I, on the other hand, am now working like a dog in research and hopefully will finish my masters degree soon.

I wrote in my essays that I wanted to be a very good epidemiologist saving the world from pandemics. In reality, I still wanted to be a kid and remain that way. My negligence and my poor work ethics manifest just that. The reason why I do not want to get stuck in a full-time job is that I still want to be free from commitments and enjoy the things kids love.

Spending the weekend at my boss’ house, I observed her three-year-old son jerking around. He’s growing up gracefully and really fast. He’s quite charming for a menacing kid, and my professor adores her little precious. I think I share that adoration. It keeps coming to me whether I will have my own child. What would he, or she, look like? Will he/she look like his/her gorgeous dad? Only God knows. But I do love kids.

I’m now in my room enjoying the company of cigarettes, a cup of coffee and a playlist of mellow music. They are indicators of my age, perhaps my adulthood but not maturity. Somehow, I could not trace how I grew up from a loud brat to a loud adult. I only remember other faces that contribute to my experiences but my image as a growing kid is just puzzling to me. I grew up fast too, just like my cousins, my boss’ son and, well, my cat. I fear that I grew up so fast leaving behind what I should have gained in the process. Or maybe I just miss the experiences I already gained. I don’t know.

What I know is I can’t go back. I have made things that have barricaded me from being a kid. Besides, I savor very much the things only adults should enjoy, if you know what I mean (harhar just kidding). Like they said, “You win some, you lose some.”

But I like being a kid more. To have a kid’s perspective in life – idealistic, full of hopes, carefree, desiring unconditionally, cherishing the company of “other kids” – is just what I want best.

The project will finish soon and I look forward to have a time to kid around again. My soul searching will always consider what I want as a kid. I may not be or can’t be a kid anymore, but I can act as one. And I’ll do just that.

Hay, masarap maging bata.

Anyway, gabi na, meme na.

Career Calamity Ver #$%@?

I'm currently in a dilemma whether I should "retire" as a researcher to become an artist.

I'm currently working as a research associate in a TB project, and I admit I suck at doing my work. As of now, I neither have the capacity nor the attitude to organize research materials. Hay... iresponsableng bata. If not for my gorgeous looks and acts of humility, I would have been exterminated ages ago. But no, despite my disorganized character, my Boss Mira had to extend my contract and even create a new one for their other project. Rather, if not for my masters units, I would have not retained my income-generating activities. True enough, being a statistician and an epidemiologist has its gains.

I believe I have become too exhausted in my research and statistical work. Aside from my full-time work, I had to meet a lot of clients for consultancy in their research. I had met several UST doctors who are willing to meet me, an amateur researcher. Although I gain much experience in handling my "clients," i can't say as of now that this is not my calling. Perhaps it's because my time and efforts are divided by my soul searching. Kasi naman, pa-enroll-enroll pa sa violin, ayan tuloy...

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, kinarir ko po ang byulin.

I have been attending violin sessions with my charming teacher since early this year. Sometimes, he keeps on reiterating that I have poor practice habits, that I have to practice some more. "Sayang ang panahon at tuition mo," he always says. Hay. Since I am enrolled and committed to attend and practice for my please-don't-ask-how-much sessions, I can not afford to stay focused on my real work. And since my work is not yet over, I also can't afford to focus on my violin endeavors. Arrgh. Hiwa-hiwang diwa.

And it doesn't end there. Making me believe that I have the potential of becoming a full-fledged violinist, my teacher encouraged me to attend the orchestra extension classes (in which he is still the teacher). Ayan, dagdag effort. But I had no regrets on this one. I have now the opportunity to have a feel of being in a symphony orchestra, which I thought would only be in my imagination. Honestly, being with a group of musicians feels greeeeaaaaat. Even is the composition of the chamber orchestra are merely beginner violin pupils, it feels like I'm in a big set filled with assorted instruments. Feels like heaven ba.

Well, plus the fact I have met new friends with a common interest, which is rubbing our own instruments harhar.

I remember the first time my boss asked how i was doing in my work, I simply answered, "Mam, mag-viviolin na lang po ako." Harhar.

Or maybe I'm willing to give up research work for music. I don't know. As of now, I'm torn.