My Korean Professor, My Korean Sister

Professor Yu Gyeong Min. I don't know when I started appreciating her. I just noticed that she was as cute as a chubby angel during the first day of my Korean Language class in KUT. I always took her photos secretly in class. Sometimes she would see me and gently scold me with a smile. (I'm not a stalker. I did that because (1) I often get sleepy in class especially when I don't understand anything; and (2) I planned to give her, at the end of the year, a video presentation of photos taken in our classes).

But I got drawn to her when one morning, I received an email reply (after sending her some photos taken during her younger brother's wedding) asking me what's troubling me that I can't sleep when it is 4 o'clock in the morning already. I was very poor in Hangeul, so in my simplest English words, I poured my heart to her. Since then, we always exchanged emails.

She once gave me a pocket mirror with a note written in korean that said something like this: "You must keep your face smiling". I was really surprised to receive something like that. Later on, she also gave me some of her winter clothes because she doesn't want me to buy expensive clothes and she is concerned that I get sick with the very cold weather.

I like her very much. Especially that I get inspired with her life. She is married to a well-to-do husband and she has a very cute son. She is a very loving person. Many students like her because she is a very good professor. She keeps on smiling and it's really hard to guess if she is getting tired or mad. She always writes in her blog to express her thoughts and feelings. She believes in God and shows her faith. She has weaknesses too, but I see how she overcomes them.

I want to become like her. I hope to become a good professor and marry a good husband. I want to live life joyfully like her.

The best thing I learned from her recently is this: "I don't know the day when I will die. I don't want a frowning or troubled-looking face in the casket. I want to die peacefully, and smiling. Therefore, I will do my best to live my life everyday with a smile."

Perfect attitude for someone like me who can be so negative in life.

I miss her terribly. And I'm getting more excited and inspired to go back to Korea, meet her and learn more from her.

But before that, I have to graduate first. And raise my Korean language level too. ^^

Whining inside

This week is getting shorter than I expected. Deadline for submission of grades for graduating students this Summer is two days away. 48 hours to be exact. I'm sure, I'm not going to make it, so I'm not pushing myself to the limit. I'm taking it one step at a time, but I'm making sure that my name is getting on the approved list of graduating students!

I can feel the pressure through my stiff neck and shoulders. My eyes get teary most of the time due to working in front of a computer screen for the whole day. I stopped drinking coffee because it makes me less productive.

Last night, I slept for 10 hours. I thought I deserved it since I felt a bad headache brought about by several days of less than four hours of sleep.

I can hear myself whining inside. I want this suffering to end. I want to read new books, surf the internet, watch my favorite korean drama series, eat delicious meals at home and sleep more than five hours a day.

But I can't yet. Not until I finish all my writing stuffs. Haaaayyy... Imposing discipline to myself is taking all my energy.

I'm thankful that I can use Mam Glecy's room. At least, I can concentrate on writing and be more productive (plus more savings because I'm not tempted to buy food all the time).

I really love my teachers. Since I was in elementary, I think I loved my teachers more than I appreciated boys. When I look back, I'm glad I had a special space for my teachers in my heart because at least, I was naturally led into an inspiring way to live. I'm glad to have met Teacher Ria, Mam Arlene, Mam Emelie, Mam Nancy, Mam Glecy, Mam Louella, Mam Marot and Mam Gyeong Min. Each of them gave me (some are still giving me) a beam of hope.

I'm excited to reach the finish line. I'm tired of running but I won't let the whining stop me from completing this race.

Aja!

Bottling up

No one to talk to. No strength to do what I'm supposed to do. No energy left to be strong for someone else.

May 29. I'm nine days away. Nine days.

Will I graduate this time? Will I?

I need miracles.

And I need someone to lean my head on for awhile.

I badly need help.

Where should I turn to but God?

How else should I face all of these but with a courageous heart, mind and will?!

It's suffocating to bottle up.

And pretend as if I'm doing really fine...

I TURNED 26 AND I HAVE STORIES TO TELL

This might be a looong story for you, but I hope you’d bear with me and carry on reading this until the end (grant some of your time to me as a birthday gift, I’d really appreciate it).

Two months ago, I experienced a miracle. But I won’t start with that. Allow me to backtrack some more...

I should have died.

February 2003

I should have died six years ago. It was February 18, 2003 around seven o’clock in the evening when a tragic accident happened at Kamia Residence Hall where I lived. As a member of the Socio-cultural Committee of the Kamia House Council, I was supposed to man the ticket booth positioned at the dormitory’s parking entrance for the night’s concert. But I had a language class from 5:30-7:00pm so someone had to take my role. Precious Baldo, a co-resident (occupying the room across mine) who is not even a member of our committee volunteered to do the job. I was rushing after my class to replace Precious on the registration duty, but when I finally arrived at the dorm’s gate, I didn’t know where I took the guts to tell her, “Can you give me five minutes? I will just change my shirt.”

I headed to the old basement where my room was. I dropped my things and changed my shirt. After a couple more minutes I was on my way back to the parking lot when I heard some people shouting. I wondered: “What could it be?”

I didn’t suspect anything bad that time, but when I was climbing the basement stairs I felt a little nervous. I rushed to the ticket booth. Crowds were crying for help. Some people were shouting Precious’ name. I moved my way to see what was really happening. And then I was momentarily paralyzed.

There lay before me the body of my co-resident. I couldn’t recognize her face for she was covered with blood. I couldn’t look at her longer. I had to hug someone and cry out: “I should have been the one there; I should have been the one!”

I went to the hospital and visited her many times. I cried hard the day when I heard the news that she passed away. I went to almost every night of her wake. With a shaking voice, I told her mother, “I am very sorry, Ma’am. I should have been the one who died.” To which she calmly replied, “It was her time. It’s not your fault.”

That time, I really didn’t know how to handle my thoughts and feelings. I couldn’t understand why Precious had to die. It was a painful thought that someone died on my behalf.

But the fact remained that my life was prolonged. For a reason only God knew.

(see http://www.upd.edu.ph/richardong.htm for a backgrounder)

This is my ‘third life’ to live

December 31, 2008 to January 1, 2009.

I like watching fireworks display. To me, it’s always a magnificent work of art on a pitch black sky made into a giant canvass. New Year celebrations in the Philippines will not be complete without them.

But one thing I hate about the midnight transition of the year is the loud and scary firecracker bursting like canyon balls everywhere. I was also always worried about some drunken policemen showing off their guns to join the noise festival. Since I was young, I watch firework displays from the window and never get out of the house, especially when the clock strikes 12. I also prepare some cotton to cover my ears to let my pulse rate stay normal in the midst of ear whacking blasts.

December 31, 2008 was a typical New Year event. After having a sumptuous meal together, my whole family went outside our house to watch the fireworks display and greet our neighbors with paper trumpets.

I chose to sit comfortably on our long couch and flip popular TV channels to see the year end countdowns of celebrity concerts. Firecrackers were erupting louder and louder outside when I suddenly heard an explosion and felt a very hot thing slipped down my chest from the right shoulder. My eyes quickly searched for anything burning around me, and I screamed when my gaze turned to the floor: there lay a gun bullet few inches away from my feet. I looked up and saw a hole in our ceiling. My knees trembled and I almost collapsed. My parents rushed toward me and asked where I was hurt. My mother looked for any bleeding part of my body and was relieved to only find a small and shallow wound on my right chest, two inches from the shoulder.

I was shaking while telling them what actually took place. I realized that I was sitting directly below the hole of our ceiling. The bullet could in fact go straight into my skull. It could have also hit my heart or lungs. I could have died instantly. I couldn’t figure out how I survived.

But I am still breathing now. For a reason, again, I was not sure of.

The latest miracle

March 30, 2009

Now, this is not about a life-threatening event. But it was an incident touching enough to finally prompt me to write this blog.

It was a Sunday afternoon when my parents and I headed to the Shoemart Shopping Mall-Bacoor, Cavite branch for several purposes. My parents wanted to buy an item they needed and I was looking for a gift for my friend’s one-year old child, plus I had to buy a material for my youngest brother’s school project. Before going into our own businesses, my father suggested that I leave one of the two bags I was carrying (which I will bring to UP after the shopping) at the mall’s baggage counter. And so I did.

We went to claim my bag after an hour. I was searching for the claim tag, which I clearly remembered putting inside the pocket of the bag I was carrying, but I couldn’t find a trace of it. I asked my father to help me check my bag in the counter but he panicked when he realized that my bag was gone. Someone actually took my claim tag and claimed my bag from the counter!

The guards and the staff in charge of the baggage counter did their best to help me, but it was almost impossible to catch the culprit. The mall was too large and quite a long time had already elapsed. I shook my head in disbelief. I lost a bag containing the following: my laptop and digital camera charger, rubber shoes, clothes, British Council jacket, jewelry case with some of my earrings and necklace I received from my friends in Korea, and a book I borrowed from the University of the Philippines Library. It was a good thing though, that I placed my laptop and camera in the bag that I was carrying along. But nevertheless, it is quite a big loss to me, especially now that my salary is not even enough to provide for the debts I owe and the school fees I have to pay.

My mother told me she was praying for the thief to regret what he/she did and just leave my bag somewhere within the mall where we, or the guards, can find it. Amazingly, my Korean Language professor (who treats me like a little sister) comforted me with the same thought. I told both of them that it is nearly impossible. I understand how life is getting harder in the Philippines so the thief would have looked for a way to sell my valuables and earn a decent sum of money. I just gave it up.

Three days after that, I bought a new laptop charger. Then on March 30, I paid the library penalties for the lost book, without any clue that I will be receiving a miracle few hours after.

On my way to work that night, I received a text message on my phone. Someone named Rona, who is working in a stall in Robinson’s Mall-Imus, Cavite branch, informed me that I left some things in the store and that I should get it from there. I was confused. I haven’t been to Robinson’s Imus for almost two years, how can I have possibly left some of my things there?

And then I remembered my lost bag in Shoemart a week ago. I immediately called my mother to check those things in Robinson’s. I was in my office in Makati for work and I couldn’t rush to Cavite just to claim my stuff.

The shops were already closed when my mom arrived in the mall, but she managed to find the people keeping my things. She was in total amazement when she reclaimed my lost bag and found that most of my valuables were left intact. The ladies from the store were also surprised to hear my story. They said they just found my résumé in the bag and used my phone number to contact me.

The first words that came across my mind when I heard the news from my mother were: “O, you, of little faith!” I think I’ve developed learned helplessness in the Philippines: a society where people give up on principles, ideals and dreams and just go on living for survival. I also felt like I’ve lost my trust on man’s natural goodness. Whether the person who took my bag was a feeble kleptomaniac or a thief with evil intentions, I forgot the possibility that the person’s heart can movhe him to change his planned actions. More importantly, I forgot that there are invisible hands actively at work during times when I least expect them to move.

The Bottomline

May 15, 2009

God’s protection has never left my side. No matter how far I try to escape from His rules, I couldn’t get away from His grace. His love is truly unfathomable.

I’m celebrating my twenty sixth birthday today. For the past months, many people have been asking me why I haven’t completed my undergraduate degree yet, why do I still choose to survive on several part time jobs, why I didn’t stick with my intention to become a campus missionary and why I still don’t have a boyfriend. In all honesty, I can’t directly answer all these questions. Most of the time, I catch myself defending my current position using white lies. I thought I always had to lift my chin up and face my struggles with a brave heart.

But I realized I was wrong. Bravery should not root from the inner desire to prove myself unto the world. The courage to hope, to have faith and to continue loving life is not from my ability to absorb all the painful experiences and rise from them.

It should come with the discovery of the meaning to my existence—to recognize that I was not born out of a random thought or of an arbitrary emotion. I was made with a “rationale”, with an intention of adding beauty, creativity cheerfulness and love to the world.

We all have our own stories to tell. Mine are neither spectacular nor mind-blowing but somehow, I believe that these experiences aren’t worth hiding in an old chest. They are living proofs that I’m not just a “dust in the wind”. I will not just be a “name” added to a list of statistics and historical chronicles. I am HELWEENA BARRIENTOS SADORRA. And I’m living a life nobody can ever live for me.

I’m now 26. Weak. Underachiever. Imperfect. Guilty of many trespasses. Tired of counting personal catastrophes. Still single and ignorant of how to wear makeup.

But I’m enjoying life. Not every minute of it, but most of it. I’m on my way to becoming a fulltime classroom teacher—craving for learning, imparting wisdom, nurturing students and sharing more stories. (Side note: May 15 is also Teacher’s Day in Korea. Coincidence?!)

I don’t know up to when I will see the sun rise. I’m not sure when shall I cease to tell my stories. But up to that fateful day, I want to feel satisfied, to preserve my passion and to keep my face smiling wide like that instant messaging emoticon perking up a boring conversation.

xxx

Started March 31, 2009 (Bacoor, Cavite)

Completed on May 15, 2009, 1:29 am (UP Diliman, Quezon City)