HULING HIRIT! (The last hurrah!)
December 19, 2001 | 12:00am
My five readers must be quite tired of reading my apologies. Nevertheless it would be rude, I would be remiss, if I did not apologize yet again for this terrible lapse in consistency and reliability. 2001 has been a pivotal year for me. I choose the word "pivotal" deliberately to describe a year when everything turned around. The dark dismal parts of my life suddenly lit up and the bright visible parts of my life suddenly dimmed. Between these two points, there were important and unexpected swivels brought about by my being in school again.
For the first time in my life I had to write a five-year business plan at a time when the future seems devilish, when business is at an all-time low, when my industry is transforming, when internationally in fact, it just crashed. The whole exercise was like trying to find solid footing in quicksand.
We had many deadlines for our thesis submission. In fact, we knew from the start that we would have to do this ultimately but typically, students regardless of age will cram. And time will do what it does best: Run out when you need it most. To complicate matters, I had moved to Laguna, a civilization away from Makati. My telephone system is different, e-mail is iffy, and my voltage regulator wheezes as if seized with asthma as it strains to keep the current flowing regularly into my computer through natural fluctuations in supply.
I had to take a thesis leave from work to comply with requirements that seemed endless to me. The first draft, the corrected first draft, the defense, the major frustrating rewrite after the defense, the final submission. Two nights before the final submission I sat alone in my country home late at night splashing tears on my keyboard. Yes, me, or is that I?
When they call me names they call me Dragon Lady. They say I dine on people then regurgitate them at breakfast. I’m supposed to be formidable and intimidating, not a computer crybaby. I’m so tired ... I can’t do this ... why did I enroll in the first place... I don’t need this degree ... I’m CEO, a resource person in my various fields, a senior in my industry, a respected doyenne ... I came this far without a master’s degree ... why am I doing this to myself? Wallow, wallow, wallow in desperation and self-pity.
But how shameful it would be to quit two nights before the deadline. Get a grip, I told myself. Just do it. Remember Sister Aquinata? Don’t look back at how much you’ve done, don’t look forward to how much more you have to do, just do what has to be done now. I wonder if she knew that’s the Buddhist "live in the present moment." I told myself: By Friday 4 p.m., this thesis goes to AIM, finished or not. The deadline was 5 p.m. By Friday, 4:01 p.m., I get my old life back.
I stuck to my word. By Friday 3:15 p.m., the thesis went out to be bound. It was missing a few things I thought I wanted to put in. It needed some more editing. It was painfully imperfect by my standards but I said it would go and it went. By 4 p.m. I was submitting it and by 4:05, four minutes late, I was off to Laguna to get my old life back. Apparently my thesis was the first one in so the guru could read it right away. Before I got to my country home I received a text: Ur thesis accepted. Congratulations.
I walked into my home, picked up a tumbler from the wicker cart that serves as my bar, carried it to the refrigerator and filled it with ice. Then I poured myself a stiff scotch, my opiate of choice. I didn’t drink a toast to myself. The euphoria of having my thesis accepted had not set in. I just wanted to numb out. Thanks to physical and mental exhaustion, no alcohol during the long intensive writing period, I numbed out fast. Couldn’t stay awake beyond 8:30 p.m. After that one stiff drink, sleep became my celebration. I celebrated for days.
But it wasn’t over. There was this thing called a recital that we still had to go through and it took preparation. When the Dean walked into my recital, I thought I would die. This should come as great news to all the people who stayed up nights cramming and barfing from fear of presenting their brand reviews to me. They got their revenge. I lived through that, the final hurdle before graduation.
When I – wearing an oversized barong over leggings and boots (Filipino dress required) – received my commendation (for being on the Dean’s List two sems but falling off on the third because of life’s vicissitudes) from Bobby de Ocampo, AIM’s president, he said, "Weren’t you the emcee at the MAP (Management Association of the Philippines) Christmas party?" I guess that scene captured the essence of my life: sublime and ridiculous, often at the same time ...
The day after graduation is when it hit me. I, on my own, managed to send myself to school at the finest educational institution, and a few years before applying for a senior citizen’s card, managed to graduate with commendation. Once upon a time, I guess that would have been "with distinction." That is not bad for someone whose life has always bordered on the ridiculous.
Now that I’ve done that, I promise never to do it again. I think that ceremonially ends my over-achiever days. Now, I want to go home to my pond and spend the holidays protecting my baby carp from attacking kingfishers. I went to graduate school for that.
Merry Christmas!
For the first time in my life I had to write a five-year business plan at a time when the future seems devilish, when business is at an all-time low, when my industry is transforming, when internationally in fact, it just crashed. The whole exercise was like trying to find solid footing in quicksand.
We had many deadlines for our thesis submission. In fact, we knew from the start that we would have to do this ultimately but typically, students regardless of age will cram. And time will do what it does best: Run out when you need it most. To complicate matters, I had moved to Laguna, a civilization away from Makati. My telephone system is different, e-mail is iffy, and my voltage regulator wheezes as if seized with asthma as it strains to keep the current flowing regularly into my computer through natural fluctuations in supply.
I had to take a thesis leave from work to comply with requirements that seemed endless to me. The first draft, the corrected first draft, the defense, the major frustrating rewrite after the defense, the final submission. Two nights before the final submission I sat alone in my country home late at night splashing tears on my keyboard. Yes, me, or is that I?
When they call me names they call me Dragon Lady. They say I dine on people then regurgitate them at breakfast. I’m supposed to be formidable and intimidating, not a computer crybaby. I’m so tired ... I can’t do this ... why did I enroll in the first place... I don’t need this degree ... I’m CEO, a resource person in my various fields, a senior in my industry, a respected doyenne ... I came this far without a master’s degree ... why am I doing this to myself? Wallow, wallow, wallow in desperation and self-pity.
But how shameful it would be to quit two nights before the deadline. Get a grip, I told myself. Just do it. Remember Sister Aquinata? Don’t look back at how much you’ve done, don’t look forward to how much more you have to do, just do what has to be done now. I wonder if she knew that’s the Buddhist "live in the present moment." I told myself: By Friday 4 p.m., this thesis goes to AIM, finished or not. The deadline was 5 p.m. By Friday, 4:01 p.m., I get my old life back.
I stuck to my word. By Friday 3:15 p.m., the thesis went out to be bound. It was missing a few things I thought I wanted to put in. It needed some more editing. It was painfully imperfect by my standards but I said it would go and it went. By 4 p.m. I was submitting it and by 4:05, four minutes late, I was off to Laguna to get my old life back. Apparently my thesis was the first one in so the guru could read it right away. Before I got to my country home I received a text: Ur thesis accepted. Congratulations.
I walked into my home, picked up a tumbler from the wicker cart that serves as my bar, carried it to the refrigerator and filled it with ice. Then I poured myself a stiff scotch, my opiate of choice. I didn’t drink a toast to myself. The euphoria of having my thesis accepted had not set in. I just wanted to numb out. Thanks to physical and mental exhaustion, no alcohol during the long intensive writing period, I numbed out fast. Couldn’t stay awake beyond 8:30 p.m. After that one stiff drink, sleep became my celebration. I celebrated for days.
But it wasn’t over. There was this thing called a recital that we still had to go through and it took preparation. When the Dean walked into my recital, I thought I would die. This should come as great news to all the people who stayed up nights cramming and barfing from fear of presenting their brand reviews to me. They got their revenge. I lived through that, the final hurdle before graduation.
When I – wearing an oversized barong over leggings and boots (Filipino dress required) – received my commendation (for being on the Dean’s List two sems but falling off on the third because of life’s vicissitudes) from Bobby de Ocampo, AIM’s president, he said, "Weren’t you the emcee at the MAP (Management Association of the Philippines) Christmas party?" I guess that scene captured the essence of my life: sublime and ridiculous, often at the same time ...
The day after graduation is when it hit me. I, on my own, managed to send myself to school at the finest educational institution, and a few years before applying for a senior citizen’s card, managed to graduate with commendation. Once upon a time, I guess that would have been "with distinction." That is not bad for someone whose life has always bordered on the ridiculous.
Now that I’ve done that, I promise never to do it again. I think that ceremonially ends my over-achiever days. Now, I want to go home to my pond and spend the holidays protecting my baby carp from attacking kingfishers. I went to graduate school for that.
Merry Christmas!
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