Kitty Litter

This is the Infinite Cat Project, which I stumbled on while reading Jessica Zafra's blog. You see how the cats are looking at other cats looking at monitors where they can see cats looking at more cats...well, you get it. Being the cat (and small friendly dog) person I am, I couldn't resist. Am trying to convince at least one of our cats to pose, but if you've ever tried to get a cat to pose, well, it brings to mind this Greek legend. There are these women who have to fill jugs with water. Easy? Nah, the jugs have holes. You gotta love Greek sadism.

(cough) Where was I? Anyway, to join you take a photo of your cat looking at the monitor while the latest cat photo on Infinite Cat is loaded, then send it in. Perfect for people who are bored, or who have too much time on their hands, or who are desperately busy but need some insanity in their lives, like me.

Kitty Litter will go on hiatus for November. A wonderful development takes place on November 19. Will post details here when the project is complete; don't want to jinx it by announcing it prematurely.

(WARNING: TOTALLY DORKY COMMENTS AHEAD) What was it they said about some movie, something about "When you want something, and it's meant for you, the universe conspires to get you there?" I think that was Nicholas Sparks. Anyway, I think I've proven it to myself. Life throws you beautiful curve balls sometimes. It's a great thing :)

Multiple Personalities: A quiz, because I'm bored and unoriginal. Posts like these prove to naysayers that the blog is "a tool for community; unfortunately, it's a shallow community." So effin what? I like communities. Where else can you find people who are predisposed to agree with you? Unlike a certain ex-First Lady, I don't have to pay you guys. Heh heh.

FILL IN THE BLANKS

Got tagged by Mida. Am tagging Kate, Yui, Eric, Y_Slaybelle, Categorically Imperative, Number Cruncher, Java Junkie, XKG, morningcup, alced, sheng, kannika,banzai_cat, marricchia, jamie, and bianca in return because I want to know their results. I've seen more insane answers than these, and given your temperaments, I'm sure I'll derive entertainment from YOUR answers. Ang babaw ko ano?


YOUR PORN STAR NAME: (Name of first pet + street where you live)
Snow White Scout Ojeda - Sounds appealing, hehe

YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (Favorite snack + first name of grandfather)
Cheez Balls Santiago - Sounds even more porn star!

YOUR FASHION DESIGNER NAME: (First word you see on your left + Favorite restaurant)
Kirkland Congo Grill - um, sounds very wrong.

EXOTIC FOREIGNER ALIAS: (Favorite Spice + Last Vacation Spot Visited)
Garlic Boracay - Sounds like something to eat!)

SOCIALITE ALIAS: (Silliest Childhood Nickname + Town Where You First Partied)
Butterbear Quezon - ugh.

"FLY GIRL" ALIAS (a la J. Lo): (First Initial + First Two or Three Letters of your Last Name)
C. Fer - sounds like a chemical, or a children's vitamin

ICON ALIAS: (Something Sweet Within Sight + Any Liquid in Kitchen)
Nokia Baguio Cooking Oil - Sounds like a cooking cellphone. Totally unrelated note: can anyone tell me where "Cooking ng Ina Mo" restaurant is?

DETECTIVE ALIAS: (Favorite Baby Animal + Where You Went to High School)
Kitten St. Paul - Hey! Maybe I can start a mystery series a la Rita Mae Brown (The Sneaky Pie Mysteries), Lilian Jackson Braun (The Cat Who...series), and Carol Nelson Douglas (Cat on a ___ series) Always wanted to write about a silly Siamese named Chocolate and a plain white and orange tabby named Caramel

BARFLY ALIAS: (Last Snack Food You Ate + Your Favorite Alcoholic Drink)
Nova Mudslide - sounds like a snack food

SOAP OPERA ALIAS: (Middle Name + First Word you see on your Right)
Cruz Creative - mali yata?

ROCK STAR ALIAS: (Favorite Candy/Dessert + Last Name Of Favorite Musician)
Toblerone Sumner - ugh

OK, now post a comment if you responded so that I can bug you about your results. Hehe ;p

Some time ago, people I saw remarked on the number of Band-Aids on my left hand. It was my fault. Our fat cat Siopao had “thalump-kablug-ed” at my feet. (“Thalump-kablug” is what we call it at home when cats plop at your feet and roll over, thus exposing their bellies). Siopao has a very plump belly, and every time I see him, I have to suppress the urge to pinch, poke, tickle, grab, or otherwise molest him. Nakakagigil kasi e.

But that day, I did not resist the urge. I bent down to stroke his head, then moved towards his belly. In retrospect, the flattened ears should’ve warned me off. He grabbed my hand, quickly yanked it down, and bit it.

Anytime I am in pain, the whole neighborhood knows it, as I screech with the full force of my formidable lungs behind each syllable. You bet even the badminton players across the way knew about it; I believe this is known as the vocal power of the wussy.

He dug in deep with his teeth, and the bite on the fleshy part of my hand ached the whole day. Not even grocery shopping, an event that gives me great fulfillment (unless Polar Bearball is in one of his “I’m-going-to-compute-my-savings” moods, in which case it becomes excruciating), could take my mind off the pain.

I know people who don't like being touched, even by friends. I should've known that even animals have personal space and limitations on that space. Yet because I felt like teasing the cat, I suppose I got what I deserved.

I took standard precautions and flushed the wounds out with agua oxigenada (the water hereabouts being of questionable quality) then swabbed it with generous amounts of Betadine. Later, another friend would point out that agua oxigenada actually kills all things in a wound, even the healing white blood cells. The remedy is worse than the injury, ne?

Now I tend to avoid Siopao, even though the whole thing was my fault. Nobody likes having their personal space invaded, least of all me, and I should’ve thought of that before I started teasing him. Guess he’d had enough, and you can't really blame him.

Too many people I know take animals for granted; even cat-loving me is guilty of this. But to deliberately go out of my way to cause pain and suffering for an animal is something too many Pinoys think is normal. Kids tie tin cans to cats' tails, tie up dogs on short leashes, or treat the animal as an exotic accessory...and this last one is, in my opinion, the most offensive. A miniature dog isn't a fashion statement; it's a living being that needs consideration for its special needs.

I guess that's what Siopao was trying to remind me of: I am not a stuffed toy. And perhaps I'll remember that the next time I want to go after his soft, white, round belly.

I apologize for the lack of entries; I've been busy, and I've been brooding over something. (Of course that's no excuse; writing is writing, and you simply write if you want to write.) This LOOOONG entry makes up for it. If you take off and read something else, won't blame you :)

I hate having turning points.

For years, my mom has bugged me about getting a real job. You know the phrase, "grow up, get a haircut, get a real job"? Looks like I gotta face up to it.

"First, do no harm..." I think this is the rule for doctors (correct me if I'm wrong). My job puts me in contact with young people, and like it or not, I *am* responsible for some part of their lives.

Polar Bearball took time off work yesterday and watched me do consultations for six hours straight with several students. Just by listening, he could tell which students I liked enough to nurse, and which ones I wanted to wring the necks of. He noted my high stress level at the end of the day, and gave me a hug. Then he observed, "I can't believe many of these kids are in UP; I know far more brilliant people who desperately wanted to get into UP but who failed the UPCAT."

(EDIT) It gets worse. UP's passing score is now 2.32 (determined by a complicated formula). While I think this is a good idea, an Educ teacher pointed out that these kids come in with too many disadvantages, and tend to drop out or fail. This can't be good for their self-esteem!

(EDIT) In my day, the cutoff was 1.75. Theoretically, we're taking in people who can't make honors, and who may force teachers to lower their standards to make sure people do pass. Worse, we're taking in students who can't cope; Math 17 now has a 65% mortality rate, according to a clerk at the Registrar whom I spoke to after the dropping period. This includes those who drop the course and those who fail. Isn't it more cruel to bring these people into UP and give them a taste of college life only to flunk them out?

The answer isn't in lowering standards to accommodate all students, it's in addressing their needs and adjusting lessons to compensate for what they don't know.

Good idea. Except...too many of them don't give a flying fuck what I do to help them, and even expect me to coddle them because, as one of them said to me yesterday, "mahirap lang ako and ma'am you have to help me."

I don't owe you anything, kid, and thank you for making the situation very very clear to me.

What good can I do if I don't believe anymore, if I don't care? I'll do more harm than good. I do, however, owe it to myself to try one last time, and I think that if next semester doesn't work out for me, then it would be best if I just left UP, if at least on a leave without pay.

I don't want to teach anymore. I'm too impatient--I don't say nice stuff during workshops anymore because all I can think of is, "Outside UP, kid, no one is going to praise you. Deal with it." I don't have the drive to teach and check papers anymore...my backlog this semester, which ballooned while I was sick, has grown to such heights that you could literally bury me in the unchecked papers. I pick a paper up, get angry after seeing how the student has not listened to the lesson, has not read the assigned readings, hasn't been smart enough to understand...and I wonder why I put up with this, "this" being all the indignities of teaching.

Some troll posted on my announcements blog that I was a lousy teacher, and I was surprised to find myself not reacting because I agreed. What disturbs me is that I don't care much anymore.
It's true; I haven't exerted any effort to be a good teacher, and I only take care of the smart ones in class. I'm tired of being taken advantage of by students, including a dumbassed frat boy who claimed that the reason behind his 9 absences and 16 tardies in class (incidentally, at that point, the class had only met 18 times!) was because he was sickly. So how the fuck did he get past his initiation, I just have to ask. This moron said I couldn't drop him because, sniff sob, he had family problems. I'm tired of having to deal with selfish, inconsiderate students, and snobbish colleagues who look down on me because I haven't won any major awards, or published internationally, or been to lunch with the UP president, or...whatever. There was a time when I cared, and I would have fought and worked harder to prove them wrong. I even quit a job outside UP to come back and prove myself.

But now I think it truly is time to move on because I don't respect these people, and I am, thanks to M, seeing another world.

When in the past I would be eagerly anticipating doing the course readings for the next semester, now I look forward instead to interviewing wedding experts and biotech scientists. I enjoy the stimulating discussions, and being able to exercise my brain in ways other than the rote lessons I do daily.

Lately, I've been interviewing scientists like Dr. Saturnina Halos, Dr. Corazon de Ungria, and entrepreneurs. I see people achieving things that they should be applauded for; Dr. de Ungria, for one, is the head of a world-class DNA lab in the Philippines! And Dr. Halos challenged me to write, to give a voice to biotech in the country, and I can't help but be awed by people like her. These people are doing things to make the country better, something I can't do as a teacher. I doubt my grammar teaching skills are going to prevent my students (especially the bad ones) from becoming future trapos a la Gloria, Erap, Enrile, hell, almost everyone in the upper strata of government. They don't care.

But learning about DNA analysis from a real expert, not from CSI; discovering technology I never thought could exist (making crops grow in two weeks, putting fish to sleep for waterless transport)...all these things are happening now. They are real; they benefit the country, they benefit people who need them. I see people who work hard, and who are dedicated to science, to charity, to whatever their fields are...and they are passionate. And I want to be their voice in a media full of sensationalist idiots.

I remember once asking my mom why she wanted me to resign from teaching. Before she could answer, I asked, "Do you want idiots teaching children, or do you want someone like me teaching kids?" I thought that was the end of it, and at that time, I meant it. I thought I truly had a mission to save kids from bad grammar and perhaps themselves. Yet when you discover that nobody needs, or even wants to be saved, what's the point?

But life throws you curve balls. Yesterday I ran into Dr. Wilhemina Ramas, one of the most brilliant classics teachers in the department, and the last of the Old Guard of dedicated, wonderful teachers I know. I think she sensed my hesitation when she asked me how teaching was going, and I paused for quite a bit before forcing a smile and lying, "It's fine, I guess." She saw right through me, but refused to condemn me; instead, she said that she sympathized; yes, kids are getting dumber today.

"But," she paused, then smiled impishly at me, "but there is always that one student, or two or three, if you're lucky, who you can reach out to, who understand, and who want to learn. Aren't they worth staying for?"

"Oh yes they are," I said, and I still believe that. But when, in some classes, there is just that one child, you cahn't help but be downhearted. There is no support group for burned out teachers the way there are for drug or sex addicts. Teachers are pretty much in over their heads and they gotta do it alone.

I won't lie and make it look like all I have in UP are bad times. I have fun with the good students; they say and do things that make me feel young again. I think UP has kept me young, and alert. There is so much UP has given me, and I am grateful, but I think I've paid my psychic debts to them...may sukli pa nga e.

"First, do no harm..." I can't remember who said this, but it applies in this case. What good can I do if I don't believe anymore, if I don't care? I'll do more harm than good. I do, however, owe it to myself to try one last time, and I think that if next semester doesn't work out for me, then it would be best if I just left UP, if at least on a leave without pay.

I can't pin it all on the bad students; this is also me, moving out of my comfort zone for over a decade now. I have colleagues who fervently believe that they can make things better, and I think they will. The difference is, they are more dedicated to teaching, more committed, and more willing.

Am I looking for a reason to stay? Probably, although I enjoy working outside UP a bit too much for that reason to be anything less than miraculous. This, I think, is me wanting to grow somewhere outside the school that's sheltered me for so long. Yes, sue me for being a late starter, but at least I know the limits of my comfort zone.

There's no real way to end this entry. I may waffle and come back with my tail between my legs. I might just quit and go. Or who knows what else will happen? All I know is that "there comes a time when we heed a certain call..." and though I still want to throw tomatoes at the person who wrote that song, at least UP has taught me that much: I know when things are good, when they suck, and when they're silly enough to be appreciated. Does that make sense? Of course not.