Appreciation

There are Sundays when I wish I could raise my hand in the middle of the homily and say, "I'm sorry but I disagree." Yesterday was one such Sunday.  As it was Mother's Day, the priest was admonishing us to express our gratitude to our mothers. Say thank you, he said, for fixing our meals, washing our clothes, cleaning our rooms.  It seemed he had a very specific type of mother in mind.

It would be nice if we received all the thanks that we feel we deserve.  However, you can't live your life hoping for a ticker tape parade each time you balance the checkbook or do the groceries.  All of us do stuff to keep the world turning, and we have to learn to find affirmation from the results of our efforts and the ways in which people receive it.  If we cook something that your family eats, that's appreciation.  If your children apply themselves in school, if they take their studies seriously, and try to do well, that's appreciation.  People don't always express their appreciation verbally, but appreciation comes in many forms. The challenge is to recognize it when we see it.

Stumbling into physical fitness

Two years ago, during a midlife transition, I decided I needed to "rock my boat," to break out of routine and into something that took me away from business as usual.  I wanted something that was physical at the same time a new activity that Socorro and I could share.  The answer was scuba diving, a new skill I'm glad I learned.  It took me far, far out of my comfort zone and into situations and places I thought I would never go.

The journey continued this year. With encouragement from my former student, Jericho Viejo, Socorro and I decided to enroll in Krav Maga.  Again, this took me far, far out of my comfort zone because it involves getting in touch with my cro magnon survival instincts.  Professionally, yes, I can be aggressive.  However, physical aggression is not usually in my repertoire. When I'm told to "hit like you mean it!" or "choke your partner for real--a hard choke" my hands tremble. Furthermore, I've spent the past four decades been living up to a label that a sister-in-law gave me:  the sports klutz.  Last session alone, during a drill on running away from an aggressor, we had to learn to get up and *ahem* sprint away after your aggressor just decked you.  In the process of trying to sprint, I lost my balance and fell, not just once but twice. The first time, I landed on my knees and have the bruises to prove it.  The second time, I crashed into my classmate (sorry, Paolo!). The falls weren't humiliating--no one bursts out laughing when you crash--because it was and continues to be all part of the experience.  The falls just hurt.  Note to self: Buy knee pads.

Aside from learning self-defense, Krav Maga is also teaching me a lot about myself.  I need to be better coordinated.  I tend to overthink (duh!) when what I should really do is react.  Mostly, I'm learning that I hit like a girl and for all these techniques to mean anything, I need more physical strength.

Which brings us to the latest leg of the journey:  Gold's Gym.  Last week, Redg signed me up for one year.  Because mother's day was coming, I was given an extra two months for free.  My initial intention was to attend the body combat classes only, to give me a chance to improve on my form and coordination without having to hit anything.  However, I was called in for an assessment in which a trainer weighs you, measures your body fat and all that good stuff that schools you in humility.  I was told (and no, I was assured, this wasn't just marketing) that I needed to lose a double digit percentage of my body weight to achieve my recommended fitness level.

"They didn't do that for me," Redg said.

My response, "Alam kasi nila kung sino yung mataba."

I'm meeting with the trainer again on Monday for my program.  It sounds like I signed up for a lot more than just body combat.

I am trying to put myself in the correct mental state for these next steps.  I have reasons for wanting to do this: To achieve physical fitness, to lose weight, to decrease my cholesterol levels, to stave off dementia, to increase strength for Krav Maga. And the cherry on top? To scope out prospective sons-in-law. (I have a feeling Socorro is going to be sick of me coming home and saying, "There was this really cute guy at the gym. You should meet him." Whenever I start conversations like these, she usually cuts me off with, "Can we not?")

The hardest part is that there are some lifestyle changes I have to make.  I have to build the gym time into my schedule.  I have to reduce some of my sedentary activities--TV, Facebooking, Skyrim, Candy Crush (noooo!). And I should eat more healthily but, sigh, this part is not news.

"How are you?" Socorro asked.

I replied, "Feeling fat and plagued with self-doubt as to whether I can really do this or not."

My current affective state is that of apprehension.  With diving and with Krav Maga, I was excited, albeit a little scared.  With Gold's, mostly I'm scared because I wonder if I am capable of this much change.  Then again, I was asking for a departure from the usual and it looks like no one says no to Maam Didith--not even fate.

A random act of kindness

Yesterday, I was walking from Regis Center back to Faura.  About 10 feet in front of me was a young man headed the same way.  We were walking at more or less the same pace.

As we were about to cross to Leong, he paused to let a car pass, so the distance between us closed.  As he began crossing, he glanced over his right shoulder and noticed that I was behind him.  He then moved right so that he was on the side of the oncoming traffic.  He glanced again, this time over his left shoulder to make sure that I was in fact on his left side. Once we were across, he went his way and I went back to Faura.

I never saw his face, so I wouldn't be able to recognize him if I saw him again.  I appreciated the gesture, though, the act of putting himself on the riskier side of crossing.  My husband does the same thing for me, as do my male friends when we happen to be walking together.  I almost never walk with my students, so I never had a chance to observe whether this brand of graciousness was still fashionable in their generation (though I know them to be gracious, sweet, and helpful in other ways). To the young man from last Friday, whoever you are, thank you.  I am grateful for your kindness.

What you need to hear

My friends come to my rescue without always knowing it, saving me from demons that often exist only in my own mind.

There was a time last year when I was upset about something.  As I ranted to a colleague, one of our students interrupted the conversation, turned his computer screen towards me, showed me a picture of KFC's Double Down, and asked, "Don't you want to buy one?" I'm not sure whether that qualifies as a random act of kindness, but it did snap me out of my funk. As if to underscore the point, I don't remember what it was that upset me, but I do remember the Double Down.

Another time, I spoke to another friend about my insecurities, my self-doubts.  In response, she said, "If you ever say anything like that again, I will slap you."  It was, again, a message I never forgot.

Just recently, I friend told me things I needed to hear yet again.  The conversation began with a discourse on coffee.  Apparently, we both suffered from palpitations whenever we had too much caffeine.  It progressed to a discussion on stress.  We were worriers, often about things we could not control.  We were also our own harshest critics, berating ourselves for being less kind, generous, or forgiving than we "should" be.  The revelation in the end was that we were very much alike, this friend and I, and there was a tremendous comfort in knowing that we were not alone in our imperfections, that there was at least one other person out there who was imperfect in similar ways.  It was good to know we had company and that weren't just batsh*t crazy.

These conversations remind me that my own world view tends to make situations out to be more dire than they actually are to the rest of humanity. They suggest that, maybe, there are times when I am too introspective and self-absorbed for my own good, or that I overstate my own importance or the importance of one thing or the other in the grander scheme of things.  Friends help me put things in perspective, something I will always need.

In the research that I do, we often talk of affective interventions.  How do you transition people out of an undesirable affective state an into one that is more positive and productive?  We could try tactics that my friends have used on me: randomly changing the subject, directly confronting my own stupidity, and making me feel like I wasn't alone.

Estimating levels of Chruchgoer engagement

I have an idea for a study that I sincerely wish to do.

I've noticed that more and more people now tend to whip out their cell phones or tablets during mass.  Actually, scratch that.  People do it all the time--during meetings, during class, during any activity in which collective passive attention should be focused on a single point.  People are physically present but mentally absent.  This has me wondering whether cell phone traffic could be a proxy indicator of Churchgoer engagement.

I have some ideas about how the study might be conducted.  We could record the mass (audio will do) while some hardware device (I'm thinking of a repeater but there might be something more appropriate) counts the number of incoming / outgoing texts as well as Internet uploads and downloads.  I'm not interested in the content of these messages, just the amount of traffic.  We can then synchronize these two data streams and see if there are spikes during, for example, the homily.  At the end of the mass, we could ask a sampling of churchgoers to rate how interesting the homily was.  Other variables that we can consider are the number of churchgoers, the time of day, the per capita contribution to the collection (as an indicator of socio-economic status), and perhaps even some content analysis features of the homilies themselves.

It is not my goal to tear down the church.  Quite the contrary.  Cardinal Tagle spoke of the need for a listening church.  My goal is to gather some empirical data that might help the church listen to the flock. Years ago Fr. James Donelan, SJ, quoted a magazine article that said that if a homily is boring then the mass is boring and if the mass is boring then being a Catholic is boring.  Are we in fact boring the flock out of the church?  I would love to find out.

ASPC 2013

Next to ProgVar, one of my all-time favorite projects is the Ateneo Summer Programming Camp.  Started in 2006, it brought together incoming high school seniors for two weeks of competitive programming, aka fuuuuuuuunnn!  Past camps have brought us in contact with some talented individuals who went on to join us in Computer Science. These included Miggy Andres, Clarisse Ligunas, and Nikki Guloy. 

This year continued to introduce us to even more intuitive programmers--people who made programming and problem solving seem as easy as breathing.  I won't name names, in large part because I've learned my lesson about not getting too attached. 

Let me instead focus on saying thank you to all the people who made this year's camp possible:

For the faculty member who lectured and coached: David Diy, Dr. Jon Fernandez, Janssen Go, John Lee, Russell Santos, and Mike Ybanez.

Our ProgVar/ASPC support team: Jessica Sugay, David Diy (again), Miggy Andres, Jacob Chan, Aaron Ong, Bianca Polloso, Gabby Sanchez, Kyle See, Marco Tiongson, and Rico Tiongson.

Our DISCS administrators: Dr. Jon Fernandez (again) and Paolo Agloro

The DISCS technical and secretarial staff: Lisa Agbay, Mark Bautista, Grace Berganio, Tristan Manalo, and Ronald Panergo.

Our sponsor for the last day's prizes: Smart Communications, Inc.

The last day was particularly fun.  Bianca decided to have a game of "Bring Me" to give out some remaining candy.  She called out, "Bring me a person of the opposite sex!"  One of the girls pushed one of the boys forward.  Bianca promptly accosted the two with follow up questions like, "Did you just meet or are you old friends?  Very good friends?" 

For the morning session, Miggy called out the last item, "Bring me Dr. Rodrigo!"  Blank stares.  I said, "That's me."  They didn't believe me.  Miggy clarified, "Maam Didith!"  More blank stares.  Finally, one brave soul at the back stood and walked towards me. I thought, Yay, we have a winner! But then he walked past me and grabbed Jacob!

During the afternoon session, Bianca said, "Bring me at Ateneo Programming Varsity jacket." There were three in the room--one on Sir Diy, one on Rico, and one on Gabby.  Three pairs of hands pounced on Gabby and all but ripped the jacket off him.

Miggy had the honors of asking for the last item of the afternoon.  He said, "You know all your facilitators, right?  Do you all know us by name?" Duh... "Do you know we have twins at the back?"  We do???? "Their names are Rico and Marco Tiongson.  Bring me Rico!"  Three kids ended up dragging both boys by the chairs.

In the end, there were some participants who were sad it was over. They asked if we were offering anything else this summer or if they could join us again next summer.  It looks like we made friends.

Thank you again, everyone! It was a great couple of weeks.  I look forward to ASPC 2014!

Downward spiral

According to the Alzheimer's Association (www.alz.org), there are 7 stages of Alzheimers that range from no impairment to very severe decline.  In the 6th stage, patients lose awareness of their surroundings, have difficulty recalling personal history, have difficulty remember the name of a spouse or caregiver, experience major changes in sleep patterns, have difficulty controlling bowels, and have a tendency to wander.

Methinks we're in Stage 6.