Hoopy Friday

wrote this last May 15, 2010.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/24226200@N00/2577398394

Last Tuesday, my male friends in my former work invited me to watch the first-ever formal (and organized) tournament. They always play basketball every Wednesdays of summer after office hours. Due to the work load I had before, they sometimes served as my reminder that it was already midweek and it’s already thirty minutes past my official time. It was a bad indicator if I went home and they’re done playing; it meant that I really went home late.

I have been exposed to basketball since I was a kid. My cousins are glued to the Philippine Basketball Association (PBA) games, hooked to how their favourite team will win that particular day. I also got hooked on hoops in high school; I watched the game three times a week (as scheduled). I remember doing my assignments the minute I get into my school bus so that I could drop my bag and watch the game. I also read basketball news and later on, I got to update myself of National Basketball Association (NBA) stuff in the US.

So I looked forward to a hoopy Friday after I got out of work.

There was somehow nothing special about the organized tournament; the only goal is continue to get fit for the summer (and de-stress themselves from all the preparations for the coming academic year). I guess I have really solidified myself as a big basketball fan – I scream my heart out to cheer.

It was fun seeing them play again after a few months. I was the usual me – taking pictures and observing the game. After forty minutes of play time, they lost. We spent the rest of the second game talking of their game.

The conversation was focused on everything – guess what – basketball. The talked about how their opponents got confused with their play and how they will refine the play next week; who will they look after on the other teams (defense and offense). They discussed how they could have won the game (they came close to two points; opponent’s largest lead was 19 points) and who to call and remind the next week so that it won’t happen again.

For a woman to be surrounded with basketball enthusiasts it could be boring listening to their take on everything hoops. But because I am a fan of the game, I gamely joined – looking at whoever was talking (while looking at the second game that was on-going. Such is multi-tasking). I also got to ask questions. The only thing that I didn’t somehow get was the talk on the NBA Playoffs (it’s a shame to admit, but ever since Michael Jordan left the game, I’m no longer updated). During that time, I let them do the talking.

They get to do plays by just looking at each other – it’s like ESP or something. They are too passionate about the game; they could talk about it for days. And matter what you say, they will always have all the reasons why they either won or lost the game.

I think women could learn a lesson or two in basketball, in terms of getting to know men. How men are hooked to this game is something that women could never understand. But just like how they understand us if we need to shop to de-stress, women will have to live with hoops so that the game of life will always be played smoothly – no fouls; just strategic timeouts every now and then.

Lucky you if you’re a woman who understands the game. Like me, I guess.

Hoopy Friday, indeed.

Getting Physical

wrote this last April 26, 2010.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/42834622@N00/4488221416

I saw myself Googling for the nearest Fitness First branch in my place so that I could go back to doing aerobics. It’s been two years since I have gone to an aerobics class.
Weeks before searching in Google, a friend was happy to inform me that he is now joining marathons. In fact, he timed twenty-four minutes in the five-kilometer category he signed in. And he was encouraging me to join him and our other friends as well.

Without battling an eyelash, I said yes to him. But then I asked myself: am I really willing to join the marathon? Can I really run and finish five kilometers?

Then I started to question myself: why did I say yes? Of course I did aerobics before, but running is more strenuous. Now that I was diagnosed with osteopenia, I don’t know how I will fare. What if while running, my bones will start to untangle and get loose?

And why am I checking for aerobics classes again? I only touch our yoga ball twice a week, and use it for only five minutes. If I do get to enrol, it would take me a lot of preparation before going to the aerobics class (the Fitness First branch nearest to us is in SM Southmall, which is around forty-five minutes to one hour away). What difference will it make? Will I be more motivated to attend and get fit?

Since I was a kid, I never had the habit of doing exercise (I only do stretching). I never saw my dad doing high impact exercises because he has asthma. My mom, whom I see dances every now and then even if she has two left feet (that’s according to her); never gets fat but is healthy.

I tried doing some interventions every now and then, like, if I see my tummy bulging. I tried doing sit ups for that. But then I gave up because it’s better to eat than look at my tummy. I saw that my shoulders are getting big, and so I did some workouts for it. Guess what, I stopped after some people have noticed that my shoulders look good. Ultimately, I lost interest in exercising when I was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism. This thyroid problem will not make me fat as long as I have it. You could give me all the food that I love to eat and I won’t have a care in the world. So why exercise?

I think this is more than procrastination on my part. Like what preacher Bo Sanchez said, habits are stronger than our beliefs. I think that my inner self believes that whatever disorders that I have will never be gone. I also think that whatever I do, I will never achieve something.

I know I’m nuts. I do tell myself that I will look like Kylie Minogue or Eva Longoria-Parker by the time I reach the age of forty. I tell that to myself while watching them in E! News as I sit on our sofa eating chocolate.

I think my body is ready for some aerobics again. A marathon, I think, will also do my bones well. But until I overhaul my inner beliefs, I will just continue to imagine myself physically fit.

It's Better Automated!

wrote this last May 10, 2010.
that's my right point finger with an indelible ink.

From what I remembered six years ago, I didn’t get up early to vote (even if I signed up as a PPCRV volunteer). There was a different feeling during that time (for instance, I voted for the lesser evil because, well, I don’t think there was any other choice).

But on this day (which also happens to be my 29th birthday), I got up early. After signing up my well-thought Facebook status, I sorted my bed stuff and prepared.

Why not? It’s the first automated elections of my country. It’s also the first in Asia. Frankly speaking, despite all the apprehensions about the elections, I was excited.

We got to the assigned school at 6:40 am. I was relieved to see my name on my precinct because Comelec did not send me a sample ballot days before the election. I was also nervous because we did not get to see the voters’ list at least a day before. I got the number 17 as my turn to go inside the classroom.

The place was jam packed with people even before we came in. The usual round of people were there – the Board of Election Inspectors (teachers), poll watchers, and voters and more voters like me.

I got inside the classroom as soon as my number was called. That was also the time when I got to see up close the Precinct Count Optical Scan (PCOS) machine. I got to see a sample machine during an orientation a month ago, but there’s nothing like the real one.

So this is the thing that would make our lives easier – the machine that could help us eliminate questions and irregularities in the counting of our votes. Well, hello is the only thing that I thought at our first sight. I have waited for this.

It took me few minutes to finish shading my ballots (thanks to my cheat sheet). I kept on looking at the back side of my ballot because I was afraid the marker might be blotting. My ballot will be rejected if that happens. When I was done, I kept my cheat sheet, brought the 8 ½ by 25 inches ballot and stood up.

I walked towards the PCOS machine. I went in front of it and I confidently inserted my ballot to the machine.

“Scanning ballot... Scan complete...,” the PCOS machine said (through the LCD of course).

“Verifying ballot......................”

Okay, it’s really taking long. It’s an approximate of eight seconds, but it was scaring me. What if the PCOS machine suddenly vomits and releases my ballot I’ll be doomed. I was already thinking of what to say to the PCOS when suddenly, the LCD flashed a new set of texts.

“Congratulations! Your vote has been registered.”

I was the happiest girl in the room after the PCOS machine accepted my ballot. I got out of the room immediately after the BEI placed an indelible ink at my right pointer finger. Civic duty fulfilled!

As of this writing, the counting of the election returns has reached to millions. It was unthinkable; I was used to the manual counting of votes. It takes weeks and weeks before we get to know the winner. Honestly, i don’t care who’s on the top of the game for now; I was amazed at the numbers. I have kept on pinching myself; I could not be dreaming. I was seeing a new dawn for my country. And I was thankful that at 29, I got to see and experience it

There are still a lot more to improve in the whole process of the elections (long cue was just too much; there were only three BEIs per clustered precinct instead of six, PCOS machines not working). But the big turnout of voters this year was a testament that each of us still believe in the power of making change. Making a difference does not need to be doing something big – it could simply mean having a dirty pointer finger for days.

It’s truly better automated.