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Pray it forward

2017-04-16T20:41:00.003+10:00

Many times I come up to friends and ask them to pray for a particular intention, not because they had a special line to the heavens, but just because I needed some support. To return the favour, I pray for them straight away or wait until it's their turn to seek my help. That's normal. However, imagine if we can pray for someone without expecting anything in return. Wouldn't that be so much better?

Let's pray it forward.

We can pray for anyone -- it can be someone we know or a stranger in need of prayer. We can't always give alms to the poor or the needy, but we can always pray for them. This special prayer doesn't only include the poor, people in war-stricken areas or people who are terminally ill.

Praying forward is simple. You can pray for:
- a classmate who's lost his wallet
- your boss who needs to finish a big report
- a baby who's in so much distress
- a couple arguing in public
- an elderly uncomfortably sitting in a packed train
- a tourist who seems to be lost
- an individual who's about to take his driving test
- a colleague who forgot their lunch
- a man selling The Big Issue on a cold winter's day

Trust me, it's easy. Don't keep your head bowed down surfing on your phone all the time. Look around you and you'll surely find someone to pray for. If you can do 10 a day, and I can do the same, then that would be 20 prayers. Our world would be so much better if we could just extend a bit of kindness to someone every single day. I'm sure our God can handle all of these special prayers. ☺

Where Left is Right

2012-02-19T23:19:00.000+10:00

After training myself for many years to look "right then left" when crossing the road, I was faced with a challenging task to unlearn this pedestrian crossing habit and adapt the Aussie one -- that is, to look "left then right". I also needed to inculcate in my brain to "keep left" and not "keep right" at nearly all times, because in the Land Down Under this is right, 'right? How irritating, yes? But I had no choice! Something as seemingly mundane as pedestrian crossing can absolutely turn into a life-threatening ordeal. And when you live in a land with limited family, friends and even acquaintances, you choose your battles and just quickly adapt to the norm.

English is my second language. I, however, need to qualify that it is actually "American English", not "English". Same difference? Not really. I have even once been told that my "English is..." (hold your breath) -- I offered the word "different", but the other party cruelly dismissed my poor chance at redeeming myself and simply said "wrong" (breathe out). My inexperienced heart (including accent, pronunciation and yes, confidence) took one of the worst beatings ever. The good thing is, I have somewhat adapted a teeny weeny bit of the Aussie way of speaking. Thanks to my flexible nature, I think I now sound 98% Sesame Street and 2% Wiggles.

My name in Australia is Maria. Growing up in a "Maria-infested" country (thanks to the Spaniards' Catholic influence and the nation's great devotion to the Virgin Mary), I was more than expected to use my second given name. Unfortunately, I can't do the same in the land of roos and koalas. All my documents have Maria as my first given name. What can I do? Nothing! Live with it! Keep an ear out for someone who would like to speak with "Maria". Interestingly, I have come across some who thought I just made up the name I have been using all my life, as well as some who found the name Maria lovely and even sexy. Hmm... Not sure how the Catholic Church would take that.

Today, I no longer get honked and yelled at for my pedestrian crossing skills (nor have I been run over by a madman), my ego has completely healed -- and is ready to take on more beating, and I've accepted the fact that I am none other than Maria. Plus, contrary to what people might think, my brain has not yet turned into mush from adapting. It's all good. Changes, changes, changes. Really, it's not that bad, mate!

A Life filled with Revisions and Versions

2012-02-19T13:43:00.000+10:00

I used to do advertising. I did that for at least 9 years of my life. With advertising being scientific yet subjective (in short, crazy!), revisions and making versions are extremely common.

Now that I have successfully freed myself from the clutches of advertising and have been able to see the bigger picture, which is my life, I still catch myself revising and doing at least 2 versions. I am, after all, a mere creature of habit.

My life, too, has 2 versions. Version 1 was my life in the Philippines: copywriter, freelancer, clown, pig, freeloader. Version 2 is my life in Australia: teacher, child carer, clown, karaoke singer, pig, lessee. (Spot the same!)

I've also learnt to revise the thoughts I put on paper. Emotion can get the better of me, so I simply write it all down and label that sheet "Ver 1". When I've calmed down, I then set off to do "Ver 2", the version that is either "happier", more factual or both. This tempered one is the one that gets "published". This way, no feelings are hurt due to my recklessness and I have no regrets myself.

I guess that's all I can write about this topic.

Oh yeah, but this is just Version 1. :)

ODD for AUD: The Odd Jobs I did for extra AUD

2011-01-27T23:06:00.001+10:00

Difficult: The best word to describe my transition from a Class C citizen in a Third World country to a Class DE citizen in a First World country.

When I moved to Australia, I brought with me cash to help me survive while I went back to university and lay the foundation for a new career. Thanks to my parents who didn't kick me out of their lovely abode while I was in the Philippines and my stingy lifestyle which has earned me the much coveted title "Anghel ng Pera" (Angel of Money), I had enough cash to get me by until I graduated a year after.

Fast forward now... (SFX: chimes, please)...

A year after, I had a teaching degree and a sad piggy bank. After barely feeding my pig for a year, it started to show signs of deterioration: What was once pink and bouncy was now brown and flat. I thought that once I get my teacher registration, everything would be smooth-sailing from then on. But I was wrong. So much for the promise that there are a lot of jobs for teachers in Brisbane. Duhhh...

And so in my quest to resuscitate my ailing porky, I entered the world of ODD Jobs.

First on the list is my weekly delivery of junk mail. Being a junk-ee wasn't all too bad. It meant I had to sort and collate the mountains of brochures while watching TV the night before the real gig. This normally goes for about 1 to 2 hours, largely due to the distraction presented by The Simpsons, Masterchef and the like. I get up early the next day, with my fingers and toes crossed, hoping for a lovely sunny day -- or else I knew I'd be battling against the diversity of reptiles and amphibians this lovely continent is oh so proud of. Hazards of this job included back pains, numerous encounters with killer dogs (big and small... woof!) and possible "detours" (for me, it was pretty often because I let my wander a lot). Income from this job depended on the bulk of junk mail. The more back-breaking days brought in A$35, while the skippy-skip days brought in a measly A$17.

Second on my list is the transcription job. Presenting, the 8-5 or 8-8 job that paid me a remarkable amount of $10 a day! Mind you, that's in USD. Whoohoo! I will never forget that rainy and cold spring day when I got up at 5AM to get a headstart on the project. I toiled until 3PM. Only my filled up wee bladder and tummy singing "Papa, can you hear me" were the only valid reasons to take a breather. Working in the comforts of my double bed, my slide count totaled at least 30 times for that day. <Defintion: Slide Count - the number of times my back slid down while I cradled my laptop on my tummy>

Third on my list is responding to online surveys. This is an extremely easy but time consuming task. I think my blood pressure dropped way below the normal level everytime I did this job. All I had to do was answer surveys for 30-45 minutes and get about 300 points for that. However, I could only claim my precious $5 (again in USD) when I've accumulated 575 points. Hence, I looked forward with all the possible excitement I could muster to the next survey. Uhmm... yay!

Fourth on my list is my translation job. After many online applications that I lost track of, I was surprised to get a job order from a New Zealand company. Thinking it might be just another dodgy project, I asked them how they got my email address. Their answer put my paranoid self at ease, so I took on that job and many jobs after. What was required of me was to check the translated document in Filipino against the original in English and give suggestions if I thought the translation wasn't conversational enough. For a one-page document, I got A$20 for that. Aaaah. Finally, not bad!

Fifth and final on my list is my Filipino/Tagalog teaching job. This is the job of my dreams! Mabuhay! Who would think that someone (in their right mind) in this First World land would want to learn a language spoken by just 90 million people. Actually, maybe even just 30 million, since many Filipinos don't even speak the national language! For an hour of teaching, I sometimes get paid $30 to 50. But, I haven't been always lucky. I have one student who just ran off and never bothered to pay. Argh.

Now, I'm in between jobs. Bummer. I continue to do odd jobs from time to time. After all, I gotta do, what I gotta do -- all in the daring quest to earn the elusive super AUDs.

How I pray I could finally land a good teaching job and have a career shaping the minds and hearts of these Oi! Oi! Aussie kids! This way, too, I can also go back to being a Class C citizen -- but this time, in a First World country. Shalala...

Knowing who to invite to your Birthday Party

2010-12-14T17:26:00.000+10:00

Children really think and say the toot-est things.

On an inspired day, words that come out of their mouths can be either clever, hilarious or offensive. We, however, cannot fault them for they're just being honest. Unfortunately, they're just way too honest at times.

Take for example my 5-year-old student who was finalising his list of invitees to his birthday party. I called him over and asked who he wanted to join him on his special day. Here is an excerpt of the moving conversation between two 5-year-olds witnessed by Moo, the snoop teacher:

Moo: Who are you inviting to your party?
Dave: Uhm... Rick, Mike...
(Moo sees Mike.)
Moo: Mike, come here for a sec.
(Mike runs towards Dave and Moo.)
Moo: Dave is inviting you to his 5th birthday party.
Mike: Wow! Are you inviting Leo?
Dave: No, 'cause he's still a baby.
(Now, Leo is only 3 years old.)
Mike: He's not a baby.
Dave: He is!
Mike: He's not!
Dave: He can't even say "Happy Birthday".

Awww! Such a major decision to make! This only proves that the gravity of friendship can be overlooked due to one's inability to say "Happy Birthday". Makes sense to me.

To all mums and dads, if your child can't say "Happy Birthday", he is still a baby.

In the interest of confidentiality and in the spirit of Christmas (huh?!), all the names in this recount have been changed.