One day, I revisited a Home for the Aged. I went there every week, doing it for almost 5 months. When I saw one old lady whom I fondly call Lola, I ran straight after her since she might tampo (closest meaning is sulk) that I ignored her since attention matters for elders here because they regard us as their grandchildren (talking about transference).
“Good morning, Lola! Kamusta na? (How are you?)”
“Okay lang. Anong pangalan mo? (I’m okay. What’s your name?)”
*facepalm*
Last Thursday night, when I stumbled upon a poem by Pablo Neruda, I was so inspired to write a love poem in Filipino. I was really proud of how emotionally charged my poem was. But when I translated it to English, when I read it aloud, it sounded funny. So when I woke up the morning after, I thought that maybe there’s art behind translating good poems and books into English. I’m thankful that because of them, the translators, I can enjoy the works of Haruki Murakami, Paulo Coelho, and even the works of our very own Jose Rizal. That is why even though I keep on struggling learning new languages like Cebuano, Spanish, or Japanese, I always keep coming back on how to improve my English since I am not a native speaker.
When I saw a security guard holding a logbook, I remember the conversation I had with a school guard when I was still a high school student.
“What are you doing?“, I asked.
“Writing a journal log,” he replied.
He then explained that the entries will help them in the future if an incident happen. The log will serve as an evidence when they need it during an investigation.
Though I am not a security guard, I think what he shared to me is very insightful. Writing my journal everyday will benefit me since I might need it one day when I find myself in times of distress. It could be my source of inspiration when rainy days come.
How about you, do you hear good advice from people whom you don’t expect to give advice?
Br. Allen 