All posts by kathy

Choices

I recently read articles posted on two popular national news sites about someone who graduated recently with a BS Applied Physics degree from UP. Nothing unusual there, except for the fact that the articles were both based on a post the graduate wrote himself, which somehow became viral over social media. The gist of the story, as far as I can tell, is the usual good ol’ fashioned “rags to riches,” “succeed against all odds”-type that certainly appeals to the majority of Filipinos. In his post, he also mentioned that while he may have succeeded despite being poor, it is an exception, not the norm, because millions of poor Filipinos still do not have access to the proper education that they rightly deserve. Being poor is a hindrance to education, health, and well, basically anything. But if you happen to be someone gifted with intellectual prowess, in a country like the Philippines, education seems to be the only sure-fire way to change your socio-economic status in life. Because if you’re smart enough, at least opportunities are available so you can get your education for free, and then that will be your jumping board for a career and everything else.

The story strikes me because I personally know of many people who started from “nothing” and somehow succeeded despite the odds against them being poor. I know exactly how that feels, because believe it or not, once upon a time I too skipped meals because I didn’t have any money. I pawned household items just so I could buy dinner. My parents certainly could not afford to send me to college, and it was only through the saving grace of scholarships that I was able to get an education.

My husband also came from similar humble beginnings, and we would often discuss how we ended up the way we did. We would not have met if we didn’t both end up choosing an esoteric course like Physics, because “poor but deserving” and academically excelling students like us were only offered scholarships in the very subjects that the rich and entitled students would never take. These were the only options available to us. I mean, some people I know only chose Physics because it was a non-quota course (at least way back then) and also fulfills the scholarship requirement for a science course. I realized this when I was in the university. Most of the rich students were taking economics and business administration, which are quite practical in the way of handling family-run businesses or starting up new companies. So it kind of becomes like a cycle. The rich find means to preserve and expand their wealth by educating themselves on the very ways to do so, while the poor are left with esoteric subjects like Physics, which are almost always guaranteed NOT to make one financially successful.

Don’t get me wrong; I took up Physics not because I thought it would make me rich (though I must admit I entertained the thought that maybe I could work at a famous place like NASA, in which case I would be rich); if I’m being honest with myself, I chose Physics because I thought myself to be too smart to take anything else. Someone actually suggested to me that if I wanted to become rich, I should take up nursing instead so I can go abroad and earn thousands of bucks. Obviously I didn’t heed that advice, and eventually chose a course that I thought fitted me intellectually. I didn’t even bother to think about what kind of job it would land me when I graduate. I was too wrapped up in my own intellectual bubble, thinking that what an awesome privilege it is to understand concepts that the common masa does not. In my mind’s eye I saw myself as intellectually superior, and my worth was certainly not diminished even if I lived below the poverty line.

When I finally graduated, did it feel like I succeeded? Not at all. I felt like I accomplished something no ordinary citizen could, but neither was I in a position to command respect in the same way that rich and powerful people do. In retrospect, it only marked the beginning to a long and arduous journey that finally took me to where I am now. I decided to take up graduate studies and later on a PhD. But even after that it didn’t really feel like I have succeeded in any way. By the time I got my PhD, my family was still living in someone else’s property, and only got by through the regular remittances I culled from my scholarship allowance. By then I had already devoted almost 10 years of my life studying; by contrast, in that same period my cousins in the States have already purchased themselves luxurious houses and cars, after graduating from a four-year course and doing the kind of job that I thought I was not suited for. So yeah, that really made me think long and hard about my life’s choices.

I guess it boils down to one’s definition of success. It depends on the kind of values and metrics that vary from one individual to the next. But if we are going to use material possessions as a metric, well, I guess Physics did not really get me as far as Nursing did for some people I know. But at least now I do not really have to worry about basic necessities like food and housing, where to get money to pay for my own daughter’s education, and tell you what, that’s something. In my line of work, I get to contribute my “bit” to the growing wealth of knowledge, and sometimes, just sometimes, I discover new things which make me giddy with joy and happiness. I get to publish my findings in papers which will remain as permanent records long after I’m gone and no one alive knows my name. That is my contribution, and achieving this is my own definition of success.

One day I overheard my daughter talking with a friend online about why someone would choose to study something like Philosophy, or Physics. They asked, what do they end up doing anyway?

She said with a chuckle, “Well, you know both my parents took up Physics, but they’re doing cooler things now.” 🙂

Spammers beware

‘Tis the season to be spamming…?

Is it just me, or have the spammers been upping their ante by sending tonloads of spam emails to would-be authors and conference attendees? I mean, gosh, you would not believe the amount of crap I get in my inbox nowadays, ranging from emails from unknown organizers of some shady conference in an exotic island or cruise, to completely unrelated ones that would make you wonder…why do they even bother? Take this email I got lately, for instance:

Dear Dr. Katherine Develos Bagarinao,

I had a glance at your profile in online and I am extremely amazed with your work. I feel you will be an ideal person who helps us for progress of our Journal.Hence, I amapproaching you through this email.

In fact, I am in deficit of one article for successful release ofVolume 15 Issue 2of our Journal. I am requesting you to support us by submitting any type of your article.

We desire to receive your valuable manuscript before 5th December.

We are confident that you will be with us in spreading the scientific research all over the world.

XXXXXX
Orthopedics and Rheumatology Open Access Journal”

Ok, for the moment suspend your disbelief and accept that I am in fact an “amazing” scientist, and that my manuscripts are “valuable.” But seriously, orthopedics and rheumatology? Goodness gracious! It’s outrageously funny, come to think of it. At the same time, though, I feel rather belittled, because is this how gullible they think scientists really are? That we could easily be fooled by some highfalutin praise about ourselves and our work?

Nothing would please me more if I could be recognized for my contributions to scientific research. But that is not the end goal for all this, you see.

I do what I do because I happen to love what I do. Simple as that.

In the meantime, I am unsure if I should make more stringent filters to prevent emails like that from polluting my inbox, or simply treat these small annoyances as a source of amusement. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll get to be invited to be an editor for the renowned journal of microbugs in the environment. 🙂

Origins

Once you get past a decade, you stop counting.

I’m referring to the number of years one has spent living in a foreign land, a second home you have adopted as your own, and one which you are not intending to leave any time soon.

Every time I travel abroad, coming back to Japan is simply what it is: coming home. It’s my home now, even if I have to give my fingerprint data and have my photo taken each time I go through immigration. My residence card says that I am a permanent resident, and it means exactly what it says: I’m here for the long-haul, people! Permanent as in for as long as I shall live, which I hope to be a rather long one, given the high longevity of the people here.

But people still ask. I’m not just referring to co-workers or colleagues, friends and acquaintances. I’m referring to total strangers, like people delivering goods or repairing machines or whatever. As to whether they are simply curious by nature or erroneously trying to be polite by pointing out the obvious that I am not Japanese, I could not tell. When I lived in the UK, I don’t recall being asked this all the time. People just accepted that you’re different, and obviously you’re from somewhere else, and what really is the whole point in asking?

Where are you from, originally?

Originally? Why, my mother’s womb, where else?

After more than twenty years of being asked this question, it just gets plain tiring. The next question is, more often than not, this:

So how long have you been in Japan?

Really? Why do you care?

I try to sidestep this question with this answer:

Too long.

Of course, nothing would please me more if the real reason people are still asking me this question is that I still look like that dashing, young lass who looked equally bewildered and happy about being thrown into a strange, new world. Like I just stepped off the boat and landed yesterday.

If that were the case, by all means, ask. 🙂

The Mediocre Scientist

I will be attending an international conference next week, where I will be presenting an invited talk. Nothing earth-shattering about it; as I am a scientist by profession, I am expected to attend scientific conferences to network with other nerds fellow colleagues and present my bit of knowledge, and whether the said knowledge will have a measurable impact on the society at large, well, who’s to judge? While this activity in itself is not necessarily an accomplishment, it will be summarily included as an additional entry in my CV.

A Highfalutin Title with Ambiguous Results,” Presented at the International Conference of My Field, known only to those in the field, unknown to the rest of the world.

In this particular conference, there will be plenary talks to be delivered by Nobel laureates and other academic luminaries who in one way or the other have made this world a better place through their relentless pursuit of knowledge. As to be expected, their brief bios are mind-blowing: 500+ or 1000+ papers published, held various positions so-and-so, and multiple awards from award-giving bodies which I am mostly unfamiliar with (and this is obviously because I am not from that class of scientists).

Which got me into thinking, I can only consider a handful of people I know who I would consider as scientific “celebrities” of sorts. Myself, and indeed most of the people I meet and interact with at conferences have accomplishments which are nowhere near those of the plenary speakers.

We’re the mediocre scientists. We publish, attend conferences, apply for grants, churn out a string of reports to justify the use of public money. If we get lucky, perhaps one of us may even stumble upon a major discovery that will actually change the world.

One of the pitfalls in the academia today is evaluating how good scientists are by the number of their publications, how high the “impact factor” of the journals they get published in. I don’t think it’s that easy to evaluate the quality of science; I think the ultimate test is how our lives and those around us can be changed for the better through science.

We can’t all be celebrity scientists, but I would like to believe that we all share the same goal.

Free

You hear that sound? Shh…hush and you’ll hear it. That’s the merry little sound that my soul is singing nowadays.

Because I’m free.

It has taken me almost ten years to finally reach a stage where I just couldn’t take it anymore. The enormous amount of crap posted by people online, the obviously deliberate crafting of one’s online image, the lack of control over the kind of content I see on my news feed.

Enough.

I have contemplated deactivating/deleting my account for years, and to be honest, once I actually did it. But at that time, it had not been possible to use the messenger function without reactivating one’s account, so I begrudgingly reactivated my account. I still wanted to stay in touch, and wanted to keep my communication lines open. Of course, that’s total bullshit, because it was only a matter of time before I got back to the usual mindless task of scrolling down my news feed. And before I knew it, I was back to my usual routine.

Well, now it has become possible to still use the messenger app without having to reactivate your account. Yes! Whoever thought of this was a genius.

I have nothing against people who derive satisfaction on spending their precious time on social media. But as for me, I could only look back with regret on all the hours I have spent on it, hours that I could have used for something else.

Like learning how to cook a new dish, learning to play a new musical instrument, reading a new book, working out, getting back to my love of photography, being creative in entirely new ways. Heck, even reviving my blog!

I could only look back with regret at the hours I spent over the years. Even 30 minutes a day amounts to a huge amount of time over years. Imagine what I could have done with those hours. Regrets are made.

It may not mean much, and my absence is likely to go unnoticed by most except a few close friends and family. But then it’s not for their benefit that I am checking out. It’s mine, and mine alone.

Checking out, ladies and gents, and in passing let me just say:

May your lives be as fabulous as you make it seem on Facebook.

Application for passport renewal at the Philippine Embassy Tokyo

Yes, that’s a loaded title filled with all the keywords you can possibly think of. Because I want anyone who is planning to go to the embassy to apply for the renewal of their passports to Google these words, and maybe find this post.

Warning: long post!

If there is any word that can encapsulate the whole experience, it is this:

FRUSTRATING.

As hell.

Well, actually it is not even for myself, it is for my daughter. Her passport is expiring next month. The last time we went there for the same purpose was almost five years ago. Come to think of it, the whole process then was a walk in the park compared to yesterday’s. Whatever happened? Change has come?

As I consider myself to be techno-savvy, I accomplished the online application form way in advance and scheduled an appointment on a Wednesday, 9:30-11:00. I was thinking that half a day should do it. So I arranged to be absent from work in the morning, and also arranged for my daughter to be absent from school so she can be there for her personal appearance.

We stood in line for about half an hour just to get to the window where applications were being received. Apparently only one person was doing all the receiving at the window. I could see that there were less than ten people ahead of us, and some of them were filling up their application forms. So yeah, online applicant or no, everybody falls in line just the same, along with all the non-techno-savvy walk-ins who forgot to bring letter packs and bought their from the sharks outside selling them for twice the price. I started to get the nagging feeling that it was going to be a long morning.

When we finally got our turn, imagine my surprise when I was told that I had to get a PSA/NSO birth certificate issued from Manila. Huwat! I said that I did not find this information in the website. And that five years ago this “important” piece of document was not required. And besides, my daughter holds an ePassport, and I brought the original report of birth which was submitted and signed at the very same consular office. Whatever birth certificate that will be issued from PSA/NSO, will bear the same report of birth which was submitted from the embassy. Does that make any logical sense to you?

“Five years na po ako nandito, hinihingi ho talaga yung birth certificate. Strikto na kasi ngayon…” was the answer I got.

But maybe my face bore that really dumbfounded look that the woman at the window said that maybe our application can still be accepted, if I wrote a letter explaining our situation, explain the pains we took just to travel all the way from home, having to be absent from work/school, etc. That, plus I have to get a freaking copy of the original report of birth so that I get to keep the original I showed her.

I dutifully went to a convenience store and copied the report of birth. I scribbled my plea on a template form used for requesting advice or assistance from the office. I tried to be as objective as possible, and kept my snarky comments to myself. I focused on what needed to be done.

I went back to the application window, and was told to wait for approval. It took another hour before I was called. The approval was given, but the application itself will be considered “pending” until they get a copy of the said birth certificate.

“Makisuyo na lang kayo sa mga kamag-anak niyo para makakuha nong certificate. Tapos i-email niyo na lang.”

Email? Without bothering to tell me the email address, I was told to pay at the cashier and then come back. By this time the line of applicants got as far as the door outside, and that tiny waiting room was getting overcrowded by people. It turned out that most of them were waiting to get inside the room where the biometric data and photograph will be taken.

Well, we finally got inside THE room, but lo and behold: the room was filled with other applicants also waiting their turn. That’s why many of the applicants are waiting outside: they cannot be accommodated anymore. Last time I remembered there were at least three cubicles manned by personnel. This time, there was only one. One! For all the applicants who have to go to Tokyo just because their area falls under their jurisdiction. Pano nga naman matatapos yan ng mabilis.

It took another hour before we finally got called. Outstanding service!

I don’t really know why it would take such a long time to take a picture and get thumbprints and signature. I mean, they do that all the time at the immigration, no? To my horror, the details I have dutifully inputted online were being manually inputted again on the computer while I was asked to confirm and check the accuracy of the spelling, dates, etc. Ok, so why go through all the trouble of filling up online when it appears that none of that information is being transmitted anyway?

Manual din ang bagsak. Gaahd.

Three hours later, we emerged from the embassy feeling rather worn out. In retrospect, I was cocky to think that can get through this procedure painlessly! In a way we even got lucky, I think, because those who came in later were then being told to go to lunch first and then come back at 1:30 PM. Me? I was only too happy to leave, and we were somehow able to file our application and do not need to return anymore.

As for the birth certificate, well, I did say that I will comply and submit the document as early as possible. But dear DFA, this does not make sense at all. It’s not as if we were applying for a passport for the first time, and the current passport is an ePassport, which means that it contains a unique ID chip unlike the other old passports which cannot be read by machines. This makes the submission of a birth certificate entirely useless. Apparently this is only required for minors. Surely there should be a cut-off age?

I was advised by friends to just apply for the NSO birth certificate online and have the document sent over. Sounds convenient, no?

Actually yes, I did apply for it online. But as my daughter was born abroad, here’s part of the email confirmation I got:

Please email the DFA Reference Number, Dispatch Number, Dispatch Date, Transmittal Date of the following document(s) to e-census.info@census.gov.ph together with your Batch Request Number: 
   - Birth certificate of (NAME)
The DFA Reference Number, etc. can be obtained from the Consular Records Division of DFA Manila. More info: http://www.ecensus.com.ph/Secure/FAQs.aspx#D17

Anak ng pusa.

Ibig sabihin nito kailangang tumawag pa ako sa DFA para halukayin nila records ng anak ko. Nagbayad na nga ako ng 20 USD, ako pa ang maghahanap ng information. Para saan pala yung bayad?

Mabuhay ang Pilipinas.

So what now

I couldn’t really think of a good title for this post. I am not sure either whether anything good will come out of it. But my WP dashboard asked me “What’s on your mind?” and this is the answer.

Well, the short answer is: a lot of things. Things that actually keep me awake at night and rob me of my sleep. Things that weigh down on my mind, dampen my spirit, and make me question why I made the choices and paths that have taken me to where I am now. And if those choices and paths were the right ones to take.

Now for the long answer.

Surely life doesn’t have to be complicated, does it? One would think that after all the sacrifices you’ve given, all the obstacles you’ve hurled just to get what you wanted, gritting your teeth through sweat, blood, and tears just to achieve something, everything will go smoothly. Well, news flash! It doesn’t. On contrary, it can get all knotted and gnarly and it just wouldn’t budge any damn bit. You can shout and scream at the top of your lungs and still it wouldn’t change because it has a mind of its own. The rule of entropy. The more you want to control things, the more chaotic they become, because that’s just the way it is. Pretty much like the way I would try to keep the house nice and tidy, but it simply never stays that way. But heck, damned if I didn’t try to anyway!

If there is anything, anything at all that I could say has kept me going through the years, is my innate stubbornness to accept things as they are. I always try to look for the potential for improving something, no matter how shitty, no matter how hopeless, no matter how daunting. Someone has actually told me that they’ve never met anyone more determined than me in engaging in any kind of task, just as long as I believe that it is worth doing and fighting for. I’m one of those persons who would buy small potted plants at the 100-yen shop so I can grow them at home into thriving indoor house plants, living things that grow and grow and grow.

Hey, there’s only one life to live. Damned if I didn’t try my best to live it to the fullest.

How much is a life worth?

I ask this question because lately I have been forced to do a serious accounting of all the financial support I have been sending out for the entire year. I realized that for all those two decades since I left my home country, there has never been a break. Unlike other people I know, I do not like sending padala through someone just to avoid paying the processing fees required if one sends by bank remittance. I have kept all my remittance slips, every single one of them. I suppose I could go and do a tally, see how much I’ve sent over 20 years. But it doesn’t really matter now, does it?

How much does it take to live comfortably in the Philippines? Well that largely depends on your definition of “comfortable.” If you would ask my Dad, he would tell you that he could live on 100 pesos a day, but he would insist that my Mom could never ever, not by a slim chance.

So like a dutiful daughter, I sent padala. Every single month, to my parents. Until my Dad passed away, and then there was only my Mom left to support. Mom of course eventually started receiving pension money, but the monthly pension she receives is only about the same as what I would normally spend on weekly groceries here. It’s like a damn sick joke.

How does a widow survive on a pittance? No health insurance, no backup plans, no savings, no nothing. And so the remittance just keeps flowing out…to support life, to support the living, to keep things going.

I am not complaining, merely trying to reflect on how much of our lives we spend working and earning, and some of those earnings gets shared to our loved ones, and somehow it is alright. You just have to accept that that’s how the world works. That the reason you are where you are now is because that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Bad grammar and all that blah

I know I am not perfect, nor am I the most brilliant English writer out there, but one of my pet peeves is bad English grammar.

Ok, I admit, I also have my occasional lapses. Who doesn’t? Still, I would like to believe that whereas we could all be guilty of some occasional bad grammatical lapses (even CNN is not impervious to this), there are also some serious offenders out there who really need to brush up on their grammar. Specifically, grammar that should have been learned and mastered in grade school. There’s just no excuse. Both the student and the educational system should be blamed for this.

Don’t get me started on misspellings. Seriously, in this day and age, with all the tools at our disposal, for the life of me I can’t imagine how anyone can type on the computer and still make misspellings. You would think that it should have been rendered obsolete already. When in doubt, do a spell check!

My Facebook wall is littered with them, may it be in the form of badly written status updates, feel-good quotations written by some literary genius, or practically anything picked up on the internet. I’m horrified by the amount of gunk I see there each time I bother to log in. And oh boy…it annoys the hell out of me. What is most annoying is how people would even bother to write something in English anyway. Tagalugin mo na lang, plis.

Can’t you see how badly written it is? Why bother to re-post it? Everyone tries to project a carefully crafted image of themselves on social media by posting every awesome, earth-shattering thing that happens to them and their families and anybody remotely connected or related to them. But dude, if you post that feel-good quotation that 1) simply doesn’t make sense, and 2) written in such bad grammar that will give your English teacher chills on a 40-degree C summer day, no way that post can give your image any positive boost. Count on it.

Unless of course you DO realize how bad it is, but decide to post it anyway, so we could all enjoy a good laugh.

Life’s too short to be annoyed to death by bad grammar, yes?