Michael Jackson's legacy is fighting for survival as we speak. Damning allegations of improper sexual relations with children threaten to take down the most powerful cultural icon yet.
Radio stations are expunging Michael Jackson content from their libraries. The Simpsons have pulled an episode from future re-airings because it featured Michael Jackson's voice.
Is it no longer acceptable to eat the sausage once we learned what had gone into it?
This kind of thing has been going on for a long time, but has drawn a lot of attention because of the sheer magnitude of the creative identities getting caught up. I grew up liking The Cosby Show, but after Bill Cosby's rape conviction , I'm not comfortable supporting the show anymore.
Then of course there's Harvey Weinstein, and Kevin Spacey, and recently I just learned of Pixar co-founder John Lasseter leaving Disney after being stood down for sexual harassment and after being parachuted into Skydance to head its animation division. This triggered actor Emma Thompson's resignation from a Skydance production which she explains in an open letter.
As much as I agree with Thompson's views on how it's hard to award trust back to people who have been perpetrators, I feel that is a concern for today and how we as a society conduct ourselves in the future. However, I'm troubled with re-examining or re-evaluating past achievements under the glare of the #metoo floodlights.
For years we have been enjoying Michael Jackson songs, videos, and performances. This have gone on and arguably influenced thousands of other artists and significantly, our popular culture. Same goes for those Weinstein and Pixar movies.
After we have been enjoying eating the delicious sausages for decades, we find that the sausage makers hands are dirty. Are those sausages now impossible to enjoy?
What about if the sausage makers promised to wash their hands for all future sausages? do we give them a chance and taste the new sausages?
For me personally, I think that everyone deserves a chance to reform, but reform must be accompanied by justice. Justice means to correct the wrongs that have been committed, and especially if it's really not possible to roll back the clock, then there must be a reasonable period of contrition and penance.
I believe that the works of individuals, -and all of us are flawed, should not be discarded. No one man has created those pop songs and movies. Hundreds and thousands of innocent creators, musicians, producers, performers and technicians have poured their labour and talents into those projects and do not deserve to lose their work because their boss was a dick.
Michael Jackson's legacy should be judged separately from his human failings. I should still be able to enjoy Toy Story and appreciate all the artists and workers who put it together even if their work environment at the time was a cesspit of sexism and misogyny.
It may take time, maybe for now we are just too close to the trauma. Beyond close, we are still living in it and working to heal the hurt. We are working to change things so that everyone accepts that abuse of women and children is not okay particularly if we hold a position of power.
Perhaps in a hundred year's time, future generations will rediscover all these cultural artifacts that we are trying to disown today. Perhaps by then, people would look back at our time and think to themselves, "Those times were terrible for women and children, I'm so glad we are no longer like that. Yet they still managed to make great music and movies."
Monday, March 11, 2019
Monday, February 11, 2019
Glimpse of Greener Grass
While I was learning how out of my depth I was with the stand up comedy, I also landed an amazing gig as a demonstration chef for Beefeater BBQs. I mean what's not to love about preparing food and serving food to people who don't have to pay for it? On the contrary, we were using food to purchase people's goodwill, the hope that when it comes time to shop for a BBQ perhaps months or years in the future, they may still remember that crazy Asian chef who made us eat free food. Perhaps have a fond recollection of the brand with sufficient goodwill that they purchase the brand. It's also called "customer experiential marketing", but I like calling myself a brand ambassador (sounds better than promoter or spruiker).
Then my agent asked me if I was willing to apply for a permanent full time position for another prestige appliance brand. Beatriz and I had a calm and serious discussion about how this will impact our Salsa for Seniors dance classes, i.e. without me being there to co-teach with her. Strange how it still feels odd to say that I make a living out of my passion for Salsa dance.
However, cooking is also another of my passions, so we both agreed I should be able to pursue a chefing opportunity as they present. Both children are now in primary school so most of the day is available for gainful employment. I daydreamed about a return to a typical middle-class lifestyle. Go to work, go home, get paid, spend, repeat. But seriously, it would give us a measure of security we haven't had before, knowing there is that paycheck to expect. As the last 18 months have proven to us: business owners don't have paid sick leave. I also felt I was a good fit for the role because of my life experience as an IT professional prior to working in the kitchen. I came to the interview and kept both interviewers engaged for nearly an hour. I felt great coming home after the interview. I was moderately confident I got the job.
I didn't.
The team leader felt that I was still lacking in experience. Fair call. I was kind of hoping enthusiasm and engagement counted for more, but that's life. It took a little bit longer to emotionally detach from those daydreams I had of life as it could have been if I had got the job.
Feeling a little disappointed so now what can I do to pick up my mood? Well how about I take a shift in a new kitchen to help accumulate more hours of experience that I so desperately needed in greater abundance. I said yes to a 12 hour split shift with a 2 hour break in the middle.
The exec chef puts me to work searing about 150 mini burger patties to go into sliders for tonight's catering event. Two of us casual chefs finished this task and were then sent to a satellite kitchen to finish assembling the sliders: bun, mayo, patty, tomato, bbq sauce, bun. With a bamboo stick through it to keep the tiny burgers together. Next I was given a whole prosciutto to slice into fine wide ribbons. These would be later rolled up into rosettes and arranged on serving boards.
I saved the prosciutto offcuts and the left over buns and brought it up to the staff room to share over lunch. After the break, it was all hands on deck to set up the cocktail buffet and serve up the cocktail menu for 300 pax. And then it got busy. Traying, piping, deep frying. at some point I was tasked with blanching cooked pasta, abuut 5 kilos. If I drop all 5 kilos in, the giant pot would drop off the boil and will take ages to get back to boiling. Turns out that's how you do it.
At the end of the service, all the left over food was binned, As a professional chef, I understand that all that food has been out of temperature control for over 2 hours. Left over can not be resold to any customer. I watched as gastronome trays of good food are tipped into the wheelie bin. Trays of uneaten but artfully rolled prosciutto also went in the bin. It reminded me of holocaust film clips of bodies bulldozed into mass graves. It mad me sick, I couldn't sleep even though I was physically exhausted, Those sliders were my babies, from the moment I flipped each patty until we arranged 26 little sliders on a serving board for the waiters to serve. We binned so many of my babies, I was only able to sleep after I had a moment to weep for my discarded babies, If it were up to me I would have happily walked around Pitt Street with a full tray of sliders and offer them to strangers while wearing my uniform of the establishment. We could have traded that waste for goodwill.
Then my agent asked me if I was willing to apply for a permanent full time position for another prestige appliance brand. Beatriz and I had a calm and serious discussion about how this will impact our Salsa for Seniors dance classes, i.e. without me being there to co-teach with her. Strange how it still feels odd to say that I make a living out of my passion for Salsa dance.
However, cooking is also another of my passions, so we both agreed I should be able to pursue a chefing opportunity as they present. Both children are now in primary school so most of the day is available for gainful employment. I daydreamed about a return to a typical middle-class lifestyle. Go to work, go home, get paid, spend, repeat. But seriously, it would give us a measure of security we haven't had before, knowing there is that paycheck to expect. As the last 18 months have proven to us: business owners don't have paid sick leave. I also felt I was a good fit for the role because of my life experience as an IT professional prior to working in the kitchen. I came to the interview and kept both interviewers engaged for nearly an hour. I felt great coming home after the interview. I was moderately confident I got the job.
I didn't.
The team leader felt that I was still lacking in experience. Fair call. I was kind of hoping enthusiasm and engagement counted for more, but that's life. It took a little bit longer to emotionally detach from those daydreams I had of life as it could have been if I had got the job.
Feeling a little disappointed so now what can I do to pick up my mood? Well how about I take a shift in a new kitchen to help accumulate more hours of experience that I so desperately needed in greater abundance. I said yes to a 12 hour split shift with a 2 hour break in the middle.
The exec chef puts me to work searing about 150 mini burger patties to go into sliders for tonight's catering event. Two of us casual chefs finished this task and were then sent to a satellite kitchen to finish assembling the sliders: bun, mayo, patty, tomato, bbq sauce, bun. With a bamboo stick through it to keep the tiny burgers together. Next I was given a whole prosciutto to slice into fine wide ribbons. These would be later rolled up into rosettes and arranged on serving boards.
I saved the prosciutto offcuts and the left over buns and brought it up to the staff room to share over lunch. After the break, it was all hands on deck to set up the cocktail buffet and serve up the cocktail menu for 300 pax. And then it got busy. Traying, piping, deep frying. at some point I was tasked with blanching cooked pasta, abuut 5 kilos. If I drop all 5 kilos in, the giant pot would drop off the boil and will take ages to get back to boiling. Turns out that's how you do it.
At the end of the service, all the left over food was binned, As a professional chef, I understand that all that food has been out of temperature control for over 2 hours. Left over can not be resold to any customer. I watched as gastronome trays of good food are tipped into the wheelie bin. Trays of uneaten but artfully rolled prosciutto also went in the bin. It reminded me of holocaust film clips of bodies bulldozed into mass graves. It mad me sick, I couldn't sleep even though I was physically exhausted, Those sliders were my babies, from the moment I flipped each patty until we arranged 26 little sliders on a serving board for the waiters to serve. We binned so many of my babies, I was only able to sleep after I had a moment to weep for my discarded babies, If it were up to me I would have happily walked around Pitt Street with a full tray of sliders and offer them to strangers while wearing my uniform of the establishment. We could have traded that waste for goodwill.
Wednesday, October 3, 2018
Funny Idea
Last month, I attended a professional development program called Speaker's Institute Boot Camp. It was a great 3 days of learning how to be a better communicator and influencer by being a better speaker. I also learned what my Clifton Strengths (TM) top 5 are; they're like your superpowers unique to you, or if you're familiar with D&D it's like learning what race and class you are and what are your special bonus features.
We all had our transformation, I discovered that I like speaking on stage and that I can be funny on stage. Plus Sam Cawthorne threw out a challenge to the class to get on the Melbourne Comedy festival. CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.
I see my destiny laid out before me. First Open mic, then paid gigs, Sydney Comedy Festival, then Melbourne. I use my superpower of Intellection to ruminate about what's funny in our world, I enhance it with my powers of Connectedness to find even more strange twists and confluences that could be made funnier. My superpower of Input will allow me to absorb tons of material to feed into the maw of my giant Intellection factory farm. Cue evil laugh -Mwahahahahaaa!
First thing, I need to go to a few open mics just to check the state of the industry. Is my kind of funny accessible to contemporary audiences? I've been twice on a Monday, one Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. From all I have seen, I am encouraged that I can be funny enough if not funnier than the average.
I promised Sam I'll get on an open mic within 30 days of the Boot Camp, well folks. I'm now down to the last 7 days on that countdown. I will put my name down as many times as I can this week.
Starting tomorrow, I'll have a punt at the Louis Hotel in Lewisham. I am ready.
We all had our transformation, I discovered that I like speaking on stage and that I can be funny on stage. Plus Sam Cawthorne threw out a challenge to the class to get on the Melbourne Comedy festival. CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.
I see my destiny laid out before me. First Open mic, then paid gigs, Sydney Comedy Festival, then Melbourne. I use my superpower of Intellection to ruminate about what's funny in our world, I enhance it with my powers of Connectedness to find even more strange twists and confluences that could be made funnier. My superpower of Input will allow me to absorb tons of material to feed into the maw of my giant Intellection factory farm. Cue evil laugh -Mwahahahahaaa!
First thing, I need to go to a few open mics just to check the state of the industry. Is my kind of funny accessible to contemporary audiences? I've been twice on a Monday, one Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. From all I have seen, I am encouraged that I can be funny enough if not funnier than the average.
I promised Sam I'll get on an open mic within 30 days of the Boot Camp, well folks. I'm now down to the last 7 days on that countdown. I will put my name down as many times as I can this week.
Starting tomorrow, I'll have a punt at the Louis Hotel in Lewisham. I am ready.
Wednesday, August 22, 2018
Back in the Game
Today was my first chef job in a long time. I'm a casual at a catering company and at a cafe, they pretty much call me to fill a gap in their staffing especially if they have a catering job. I like to call myself a chef as long as someone else is willing to pay me to do the job even if only occasionally. My quiet fear is that if I don't get to practice professional cooking then I might become rusty and be of less use than a first day apprentice.
However, today was special. I was looking forward to working for Chef Krys, my unwitting mentor, my former teacher at cooking school, who also runs his own catering business. It has been a long time since the last shift he's tossed my way, I wonder if his style has changed much. I was also nervous because I had a bit of a drama two days ago.
Over the past week, I've been feeling what I diagnosed as a "stiff neck". So meh? What do ya do? I soldiered on, the damned thing will go away on its own time. Last Sunday morning I had the shocking experience of feeling my head unsupported by my neck muscles as I was descending down the stairs on some errand. Every signal my brain asked of my neck muscles to please do its job was met with sharp jolting pain. The kind that I visualise as tiny electric sparks every time I try to tell my neck muscles to contract and hold my fuckin' head up. As it turns out, I managed to wobble down the stairs like a circus performer balancing a pole on his head with a ball at the tip. As soon as I was on level ground I used my hand to prop up my neck and made my way to the sofa so I can sit down, All this time I'm giving Beatriz a running account of what was happening to me like some demented radio sports commentator. As soon as I was seated I started to lean back on the sofa so as to brace my head and neck against the cushion and try to make sense of what just happened.
After trying to move my head on all axis to determine range of motion, I rediscovered that stiff neck I had been ignoring for the last couple of days. I felt around my neck and shoulders and found a hard knot of muscles just above my right scapula. Fuck! Sunday was gonna be a busy day and how the fuck can we get all those jobs done when I'm supposed to be the muscle? Beatriz is still recovering from knee surgery and still uses a crutch to get around, yet all I could think of was I just need a neck brace and I can get back to work and soldier on. Patch me up and send me back into battle, Sarge! I had a little giggle imagining the two of us showing up to class with her on crutches and me in a neck brace -people might think Salsa dancing is too dangerous?
Of course, Beatriz talks some sense into me, I sat on the sofa for a while and considered other options besides a neck brace. That's when I thought "What about Tuesday, I can't cook with one hand supporting my neck! Shit! Damn, I may have to cancel my shift - where's my phone? Aha here it is. AAAAGhhh! What the fuck! The mere movement of picking up my phone and looking at it sent pain signals that took me by surprise, yet led me to the most amazingly obvious conclusion: The reason I have the stiff neck in the first place is due to smartphone neck .
Now that I know what it is, I can treat it like any muscle strain. Rest and ice. By nighttime, I discovered I cannot lie down in the normal way which is to sit on the bed and lie back until horizontal. I had to support my neck and crawl on all fours before dropping one side to roll on my back. Took it easy yesterday and found it easier to lie down last night so I'm feeling ready to work today.
Except for all the heavy labour, I didn't look forward to that. During the first hour we transported 2 heavy ovens, 2 gas burners, gas bottles, all the food, giant pots and trays, gastronomes, crockery, glasses and cutlery. Halfway through carting 4 crates of heavy plates I was ready to doubt if I can actually last the rest of the shift. I remembered to take my ibuprofen and soldiered on.
My first job was to tray up all the chicken breasts, then Chef Krys got me to set up the two gas stoves outside the kitchen to cook the desert sauce and the mushroom sauce. Yes, I can do this! There was a bit of a lull as we await the go ahead to start sending out 285 hot meals. I was at the head of one pass: first the mash is spooned onto the plate, chicken goes on top, green veg arranged next to it before I get to nap sauce onto the dish and make sure the plate is clean before letting the waiters whisk it away. I was responsible for half of every plate that hit the tables.
As the service was winding to a close, I'm not usually expecting some freebie left-overs for take home, although I have worked for other outfits that do not mind if staff take home left-overs. It was still a shock when I was told to just throw out so much left-overs. I do get it, Chef has already chosen which left-overs to take home and salvage, the rest is waste. He employs contract staff for functions like this, so if one staff gets to take home, then all the staff should be allowed. Not good business to employ staff to squabble about how much left over they are allowed to take home. I get it.
I shed a tear as I binned the surplus mushroom sauce and dessert sauce. To help me take the edge off this yucky feeling, I chose to celebrate something else I did today that was not wasteful. I helped a couple of the waiters splash the left over drinking water from the jugs into the gardens and lawn.
Yes, I suppose I can still say I'm a chef. Now get off your screen and save your neck for chrissakes!
However, today was special. I was looking forward to working for Chef Krys, my unwitting mentor, my former teacher at cooking school, who also runs his own catering business. It has been a long time since the last shift he's tossed my way, I wonder if his style has changed much. I was also nervous because I had a bit of a drama two days ago.
Over the past week, I've been feeling what I diagnosed as a "stiff neck". So meh? What do ya do? I soldiered on, the damned thing will go away on its own time. Last Sunday morning I had the shocking experience of feeling my head unsupported by my neck muscles as I was descending down the stairs on some errand. Every signal my brain asked of my neck muscles to please do its job was met with sharp jolting pain. The kind that I visualise as tiny electric sparks every time I try to tell my neck muscles to contract and hold my fuckin' head up. As it turns out, I managed to wobble down the stairs like a circus performer balancing a pole on his head with a ball at the tip. As soon as I was on level ground I used my hand to prop up my neck and made my way to the sofa so I can sit down, All this time I'm giving Beatriz a running account of what was happening to me like some demented radio sports commentator. As soon as I was seated I started to lean back on the sofa so as to brace my head and neck against the cushion and try to make sense of what just happened.
After trying to move my head on all axis to determine range of motion, I rediscovered that stiff neck I had been ignoring for the last couple of days. I felt around my neck and shoulders and found a hard knot of muscles just above my right scapula. Fuck! Sunday was gonna be a busy day and how the fuck can we get all those jobs done when I'm supposed to be the muscle? Beatriz is still recovering from knee surgery and still uses a crutch to get around, yet all I could think of was I just need a neck brace and I can get back to work and soldier on. Patch me up and send me back into battle, Sarge! I had a little giggle imagining the two of us showing up to class with her on crutches and me in a neck brace -people might think Salsa dancing is too dangerous?
Of course, Beatriz talks some sense into me, I sat on the sofa for a while and considered other options besides a neck brace. That's when I thought "What about Tuesday, I can't cook with one hand supporting my neck! Shit! Damn, I may have to cancel my shift - where's my phone? Aha here it is. AAAAGhhh! What the fuck! The mere movement of picking up my phone and looking at it sent pain signals that took me by surprise, yet led me to the most amazingly obvious conclusion: The reason I have the stiff neck in the first place is due to smartphone neck .
Now that I know what it is, I can treat it like any muscle strain. Rest and ice. By nighttime, I discovered I cannot lie down in the normal way which is to sit on the bed and lie back until horizontal. I had to support my neck and crawl on all fours before dropping one side to roll on my back. Took it easy yesterday and found it easier to lie down last night so I'm feeling ready to work today.
Except for all the heavy labour, I didn't look forward to that. During the first hour we transported 2 heavy ovens, 2 gas burners, gas bottles, all the food, giant pots and trays, gastronomes, crockery, glasses and cutlery. Halfway through carting 4 crates of heavy plates I was ready to doubt if I can actually last the rest of the shift. I remembered to take my ibuprofen and soldiered on.
My first job was to tray up all the chicken breasts, then Chef Krys got me to set up the two gas stoves outside the kitchen to cook the desert sauce and the mushroom sauce. Yes, I can do this! There was a bit of a lull as we await the go ahead to start sending out 285 hot meals. I was at the head of one pass: first the mash is spooned onto the plate, chicken goes on top, green veg arranged next to it before I get to nap sauce onto the dish and make sure the plate is clean before letting the waiters whisk it away. I was responsible for half of every plate that hit the tables.
As the service was winding to a close, I'm not usually expecting some freebie left-overs for take home, although I have worked for other outfits that do not mind if staff take home left-overs. It was still a shock when I was told to just throw out so much left-overs. I do get it, Chef has already chosen which left-overs to take home and salvage, the rest is waste. He employs contract staff for functions like this, so if one staff gets to take home, then all the staff should be allowed. Not good business to employ staff to squabble about how much left over they are allowed to take home. I get it.
I shed a tear as I binned the surplus mushroom sauce and dessert sauce. To help me take the edge off this yucky feeling, I chose to celebrate something else I did today that was not wasteful. I helped a couple of the waiters splash the left over drinking water from the jugs into the gardens and lawn.
Yes, I suppose I can still say I'm a chef. Now get off your screen and save your neck for chrissakes!
Friday, May 4, 2018
Star Wars Day 2018
So today is May the 4th (Star Wars Day) and I feel like a Padawan catching a glimpse of the power of The Force.
Two weeks ago I had no idea that I would be cast in a film shoot for a government health campaign. Actually, a month ago I thought by today I would be caring for Beatriz as she recuperates from knee surgery. Due to a lingering throat infection, the surgery didn't happen. This made Beatriz available for an opportunity to be part of a TV commercial about healthy ageing.
The shoot went so well, that after dancing to only 5 salsa tracks, the director yelled cut and told the dancers we were done for the day. And just like that, the crew got up and started re-rigging the camera, lights and the set, preparing for the next shot on the list.
Feeling happy after a lucrative afternoon's work we were literally on our homeward drive when we stopped at the intersection awaiting the traffic lights. The plan was to turn right and head directly home via Marrickville Road. As I waited I noticed that some cars had queued up behind us also waiting to cross the intersection, I made a quick calculation looking at the bank of cars on the other side waiting to cross to our side. If I insist on turning right, no one else from my side of the intersection can get across on this phase of green, so I asked Beatriz if we can go straight to go home? She said yes, that will also get us on an alternate route home. As we weren't in any hurry, I decided to be kind to the motorists behind me and went straight ahead when lights turned green.
Because we were now on an alternate route, it led us through another suburb. which made us think of our dear friend Fred, who lived there, and we haven't seen for a while. We rang him, he was home, and we dropped in for a visit.
This is where it got real. Before leaving Fred, he asked us if we still gave clothing for the homeless, he had a few items he wanted to give away. Beatriz accepted it with the intention of passing it on to a particular homeless person she knew. Maybe the only homeless person I knew that she knew -a fellow named Luigi (not his real name). At the time, I was thinking we'd end up holding on to those clothes until next time we see Luigi. Do you know how hard it is to find a specific homeless person? Unlike wildlife migrations that are at least predictable, the homeless seem to move around all the time just to keep moving,
We spotted Luigi on our street corner as we arrived home, Beatriz called out to him.The Force had used us to conduct Fred's charity to Luigi.
Just to give you an inkling of how improbable the timing of this was, we were also stopped for police RBT (random breath test) on our way home. That must have added an extra 3 minutes to our regular journey. Also, we haven't seen Luigi in months, and frankly I wasn't sure if we'd ever see him again.
- If we were late by another 30 seconds we would have missed him entirely.
- If I insisted on turning right at Marrickville, we wouldn't have seen Fred.
I had this mental image of an impetuous Anakin casually stepping off a flying car only to land perfectly on another passing vehicle.
We let go of our plans, and The Force guided us along the rest of our day.
We let go of our plans, and The Force guided us along the rest of our day.
It kinda reminds me of the title of this blog.
Thursday, October 26, 2017
Take Your Child to Work Day
Sometimes I try to pick up a memory based on a theme like say Christmas 1990 and then wander around the halls of my memories of all Christmases past. Well we're not going there today. Instead I stumbled onto a journey of "Take your Child to Work Day".
My earliest memories were of being whisked (usually classes getting cancelled due to incoming typhoon) from school by my father and I have to spend the rest of the day at his office. I have fond childhood memories of my Papa's office
The first thing is the smell of air-conditioning, which later as an adult I would describe as stale cigarette smoke but very cold. And then there were those marble floors and walls at reception, and those modern elevators that have softly illuminated touch sensitive buttons instead of the usual clunky black Bakelite buttons of older models. Even the soft ding announcing its arrival had a richness to it. Perhaps because it was an actual chime being triggered by an electric relay. It was the modern office of its time, it had to be, it was the offices of IBM Philippines.
I also have memories of my mother taking me to work at her office in Escolta. I was very young, maybe four? I remember a lot of walking "downtown" as it was referred to back then. I also recall a Philippine government office my mother worked in for a while, it was an old building maybe built just after the war, and it had no air-conditioning. As I try to stitch it all together in my personal memories playlist, I realise that it didn't really stop even after I've grown up into adulthood. I still visited him to maybe catch a lift, or just because I was in the neighborhood. The one consistent thing is that my parents were always proud of me when they presented me to their colleagues.
Fast forward to today, when I woke up accepting that it will be a challenging day of back to back Salsa 4 Seniors classes #B2BS4S. But wait a minute, today is also the last day of radiation treatment for Beatriz! It is also today that she had to speak before a legal panel deciding the outcome of a high rise development next to our local school. Yeah, big day for all. We have been looking forward to today and it has arrived.
I could do with some support today. Luckily, my daughter Alexandra said she was going to "see" if she could accompany me on my classes today. Over the last few years I have cultivated an attitude of zen when it comes to getting facetime with Alex. Let's just say that I wish I could see her more. I will take every chance I can get to spend even a little bit of time with her even if it's just 12 minutes at a train platform before we go catch our respective trains. The idea of sharing a day with her is huge.
I send Alex a quick text message just in case she forgot and there is still a chance to make it. My phone rings and it's her, She just got up. She forgot. She'll catch the bus to Chiswick. I message her the bus route.
My heart suddenly feels lighter. I make my way to Chiswick class but now getting really excited about having facetime with Alex. And I could also use her as my teaching assistant, oh what fun that will be. You couldn't wipe the smile off my face when Alex walked through that door at the start of class.
I was a proud father when I introduced Alex to my students. And then it occured to me.
This is "Take Your Child to Work Day" [adult child edition].
I was instantly drawn back into a vortex of countless memories of the times I took her to work as she was growing up. How strange it must be for her to witness my changing career choices. From offices at North Ryde and Rhodes, to teaching dance in community halls. Until now, I bet she's unsure how big a part she's played into making my life what it is today.
Alex: You reminded me how to live in trust rather than in fear of our future. Today, this perfect day, and many different things contributed to making it perfect. Today is made possible with you convincing me that it will all turn out great in the end. You were right.
I took my child to work today and I hope she is proud of me as I am proud to be her father.
My earliest memories were of being whisked (usually classes getting cancelled due to incoming typhoon) from school by my father and I have to spend the rest of the day at his office. I have fond childhood memories of my Papa's office
The first thing is the smell of air-conditioning, which later as an adult I would describe as stale cigarette smoke but very cold. And then there were those marble floors and walls at reception, and those modern elevators that have softly illuminated touch sensitive buttons instead of the usual clunky black Bakelite buttons of older models. Even the soft ding announcing its arrival had a richness to it. Perhaps because it was an actual chime being triggered by an electric relay. It was the modern office of its time, it had to be, it was the offices of IBM Philippines.
I also have memories of my mother taking me to work at her office in Escolta. I was very young, maybe four? I remember a lot of walking "downtown" as it was referred to back then. I also recall a Philippine government office my mother worked in for a while, it was an old building maybe built just after the war, and it had no air-conditioning. As I try to stitch it all together in my personal memories playlist, I realise that it didn't really stop even after I've grown up into adulthood. I still visited him to maybe catch a lift, or just because I was in the neighborhood. The one consistent thing is that my parents were always proud of me when they presented me to their colleagues.
Fast forward to today, when I woke up accepting that it will be a challenging day of back to back Salsa 4 Seniors classes #B2BS4S. But wait a minute, today is also the last day of radiation treatment for Beatriz! It is also today that she had to speak before a legal panel deciding the outcome of a high rise development next to our local school. Yeah, big day for all. We have been looking forward to today and it has arrived.
I could do with some support today. Luckily, my daughter Alexandra said she was going to "see" if she could accompany me on my classes today. Over the last few years I have cultivated an attitude of zen when it comes to getting facetime with Alex. Let's just say that I wish I could see her more. I will take every chance I can get to spend even a little bit of time with her even if it's just 12 minutes at a train platform before we go catch our respective trains. The idea of sharing a day with her is huge.
I send Alex a quick text message just in case she forgot and there is still a chance to make it. My phone rings and it's her, She just got up. She forgot. She'll catch the bus to Chiswick. I message her the bus route.
My heart suddenly feels lighter. I make my way to Chiswick class but now getting really excited about having facetime with Alex. And I could also use her as my teaching assistant, oh what fun that will be. You couldn't wipe the smile off my face when Alex walked through that door at the start of class.
I was a proud father when I introduced Alex to my students. And then it occured to me.
This is "Take Your Child to Work Day" [adult child edition].
I was instantly drawn back into a vortex of countless memories of the times I took her to work as she was growing up. How strange it must be for her to witness my changing career choices. From offices at North Ryde and Rhodes, to teaching dance in community halls. Until now, I bet she's unsure how big a part she's played into making my life what it is today.
Alex: You reminded me how to live in trust rather than in fear of our future. Today, this perfect day, and many different things contributed to making it perfect. Today is made possible with you convincing me that it will all turn out great in the end. You were right.
I took my child to work today and I hope she is proud of me as I am proud to be her father.
Monday, May 15, 2017
Happy Mother's Day
I'm roused by Saffira coming into the bedroom announcing "Happy Mother's Day Mummy!" I thought SHIT I'm supposed to do breakfast in bed. I'm still in bed. So as the obligatory hugs and kisses exchange happens I managed to hustle Saffira out of the room and back into the kids bedroom to go fetch Vida. My desperate plan was to convince the girls to let Mummy have a little sleep in to buy me enough time to knock up breakfast in bed.
Or should I say breakfast part one? As part of the day's festivities we will also be having brunch with their grandmother next door. -All attended by their uncles, aunties and cousins. It was going to be a big day. But first our intimate little breakfast part one.
As soon as Vida awakes the first words out of her mouth were "We need to get my nothers day pwesents fwom downstairs." Alrighty then, I take the girls downstairs to retrieve the presents.
Vida had spent the week at childcare making a card with a photo and sparkles. Unfortunately Saffira had no present this year, so I enlisted her help to make a present by going to Big W and printing a photo to put in a frame.
We retrieved both presents, but I was frustrated in my attempts to convince them to let mummy have a sleep in. The little darlings couldn't wait to give their presents to Mummy. Switch to plan C (Plan A was getting up before the kids did) What's Plan C? Follow the girls upstairs and film the event.
The girls climb on to bed with Mummy, and amidst all the hugs and kisses exchange, she still manages to ask me where was her breakfast in bed? I gulped and I apologised, I gestured toward the kids and begged that the day had already gotten away from me as soon as both girls were up. But if you give me a moment, darling, I might still conjure one up.
I stopped filming and slipped out of the room to start making some dulce de leche sandwiches and tea. I did manage to conjure up a tray with sandwiches, tea, and an orchid in a champagne glass. Right after she had already gotten up, gone downstairs and gone back up again to make the bed. Does that still count?
Where did all this stress and over expectation come from? Why don't we just celebrate mothers day as often as we want and whenever we want? Do we really need to out-do last year or the year before ? When we share on social media, should we remind ourselves that it's not a competition?
All I am teaching my kids is to take time to honour and thank the person who is their longest relationship, their first influence. She who brought each of us unto existence. Thank you Mother.
Or should I say breakfast part one? As part of the day's festivities we will also be having brunch with their grandmother next door. -All attended by their uncles, aunties and cousins. It was going to be a big day. But first our intimate little breakfast part one.
As soon as Vida awakes the first words out of her mouth were "We need to get my nothers day pwesents fwom downstairs." Alrighty then, I take the girls downstairs to retrieve the presents.
Vida had spent the week at childcare making a card with a photo and sparkles. Unfortunately Saffira had no present this year, so I enlisted her help to make a present by going to Big W and printing a photo to put in a frame.
We retrieved both presents, but I was frustrated in my attempts to convince them to let mummy have a sleep in. The little darlings couldn't wait to give their presents to Mummy. Switch to plan C (Plan A was getting up before the kids did) What's Plan C? Follow the girls upstairs and film the event.
The girls climb on to bed with Mummy, and amidst all the hugs and kisses exchange, she still manages to ask me where was her breakfast in bed? I gulped and I apologised, I gestured toward the kids and begged that the day had already gotten away from me as soon as both girls were up. But if you give me a moment, darling, I might still conjure one up.
I stopped filming and slipped out of the room to start making some dulce de leche sandwiches and tea. I did manage to conjure up a tray with sandwiches, tea, and an orchid in a champagne glass. Right after she had already gotten up, gone downstairs and gone back up again to make the bed. Does that still count?
Where did all this stress and over expectation come from? Why don't we just celebrate mothers day as often as we want and whenever we want? Do we really need to out-do last year or the year before ? When we share on social media, should we remind ourselves that it's not a competition?
All I am teaching my kids is to take time to honour and thank the person who is their longest relationship, their first influence. She who brought each of us unto existence. Thank you Mother.
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