My mom is in the middle to late stages of dementia. This means that she practically cannot form new memories. She is easily confused. She's not fully aware of what is going on around her. The implications for those of us around her is that she cannot be left on her own because she is likely to get lost or hurt.
During the early stages of her condition, I would bother to correct her. I quickly noticed that doing so only put her on the defensive and increased her anxiety. A book on dementia, The 36 Hour Day, advised caregivers to avoid being confrontational, to find ways to work with the person instead.
I'm a really terrible liar and a poor actress at best. With my mom, though, I am learning, not to lie, but to work with her limitations. For example, after a week in the hospital, she called me to inform me that my dad had chest pains and had been admitted. She was concerned that I didn't know. I was inclined to say, "Yes, I know" but instead I said, "Oh, ok. I'll visit tomorrow." There was no sense correcting her or contradicting her.
My dad's style is quite the opposite. He confronts her with the truth--that she forgot her keys, that she misplaced her phone, that she no longer knows how to make toast. That doesn't help. They end up in a "Yes, I do!" "No, you don't" kind of argument that no one wins.
Of course, it's easy for me to talk when I don't have to take care of my mom 24/7. I can afford to be this rational from a distance. I can forsee a time when it will be necessary to put theory into practice, and then we will see if I can walk the talk.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Saturday, February 25, 2012
In case you were wondering...
... why I've been coming to school late this last week, it's because my dad had a mild heart attack last Monday. He felt poorly in the morning. At lunch time, my mom and I took him to the hospital. His doctors determined he had had an attack and required an angioplasty. The angioplasty took place today. The medical god that is Dr. Tim Dy installed three stents in under 45 minutes. My dad is now in recovery.
What this implies is a change of lifestyle. There's a longer haul ahead that will require much more involvement. All I can say is I'm glad my sabbatical is coming up.
What this implies is a change of lifestyle. There's a longer haul ahead that will require much more involvement. All I can say is I'm glad my sabbatical is coming up.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Banking on impermanence
A woman was giving love one last chance. She met a man for whom she fell, but having loved and lost many times, she told herself that she would be grateful for five good years with him. The relationship proved to be enduring and today, more than five years later, they are still together.
Is there wisdom in banking on impermanence? Is it better to expect less from our relationships, from people in general, to be pleasantly surprised when they exceed our hopes, or should we continue to take people at their word and then suffer the disappointment if and when it comes?
Is there wisdom in banking on impermanence? Is it better to expect less from our relationships, from people in general, to be pleasantly surprised when they exceed our hopes, or should we continue to take people at their word and then suffer the disappointment if and when it comes?
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Life is short
When I was in my early 20s, I was trapped in an unhappy situation. In an attempt to console me, a well-intentioned but non-neutral third party gave me some advice: Life is short. Forgive, let go, and embrace whatever joy the situation had to offer, because when the opportunity is gone, it's gone.
At the time, I thought she was full of crap. However, bracketing the advice from the context, I think I'm starting to see her point. Life seems long when you think of it in terms of the 80 or 90 years that many of us can expect to have. There are elements of our lives that seem to last forever: family, cellulite, the antique chair handed down from your grandfather, the fruitcake in the freezer. But life is short when you break it up into episodes--the four years in high school or college, the one year you spent in your first job, your child's infancy, your years of living independently, the duration of a friendship, the thrill of falling in love.
We spend so much of our time distracting ourselves from the present. We kill time (I hate that sentiment!) and disengage from tasks and relationships that should be important. We tell ourselves that there will be time later, later, later, or that something better, something more worthy of our attention is sure to come along. Soon enough, there is no more time. The deadlines are upon us. People have moved on. We lose our opportunties to be exemplary, to learn fully, to love completely. We squander our present. What a terrible, terrible waste. Life is too short.
At the time, I thought she was full of crap. However, bracketing the advice from the context, I think I'm starting to see her point. Life seems long when you think of it in terms of the 80 or 90 years that many of us can expect to have. There are elements of our lives that seem to last forever: family, cellulite, the antique chair handed down from your grandfather, the fruitcake in the freezer. But life is short when you break it up into episodes--the four years in high school or college, the one year you spent in your first job, your child's infancy, your years of living independently, the duration of a friendship, the thrill of falling in love.
We spend so much of our time distracting ourselves from the present. We kill time (I hate that sentiment!) and disengage from tasks and relationships that should be important. We tell ourselves that there will be time later, later, later, or that something better, something more worthy of our attention is sure to come along. Soon enough, there is no more time. The deadlines are upon us. People have moved on. We lose our opportunties to be exemplary, to learn fully, to love completely. We squander our present. What a terrible, terrible waste. Life is too short.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
MInimum waiting time
One of the reasons I resist going to the doctor is because it usually takes a lot of time. Certain doctors make house calls (my mom's geriatrician, for example). Other doctors and dentists book appointments, and may God bless them for that. Most doctors I know, though, follow a "first-come, first-served" policy. It's completely fair, however, it also means there's a minimum waiting time you have to invest in each visit: You can come very early and be at the head of the line, or you can come late and wait your turn. Either way, you have to resign yourselves to entertaining yourself for a couple of hours, at least.
I'm so glad I have Smart Bro.
I'm so glad I have Smart Bro.
Lagen
We just got back from three days in Lagen, El Nido. This was a family vacation, a gift from my parents. It was one of those rare vacations in which the family, i.e. my parents and their children, were complete.
If you've never been to El Nido before, it's one of those places you must add to your bucket list, or the 100 places you must see before you die. The scenery is dramatic--limestone cliffs that fall straight in to the sea. The wildlife is almost alarmingly close by--swallows darting in and out of the dining room, monitor lizards by the pool, hornbills on treetops over your cottage, and, my favorite, the hateful clownfishes ready to attack unsuspecting divers. And the resort? One of the best in the world: small (capacity of about 100 people), intimate, first-rate rooms, first-rate food, and the very best in Filipino hospitality.
The characteristic of the El Nido resorts that is either a plus or a minus, depending on how you like your vacations, is that it is remote. You fly by chartered plane to El Nido and then take a 45-minute boat ride to the resort. While in the resort, the range of activities is limited to hiking, bird watching, watersports, island hopping, sleeping, spa-ing, and eating. There's no clubbing. You can't go shopping. I know of people whose sentiment is that "after five minutes, beautiful gets old--I want action!" These people will not be happy in Lagen.
But we were happy. Three days was about the right amount of time. We were able to dive three times, gaping at schools of yellow snappers and jacks. We took long meals, over long, inconsequential chats. We sat by the pool at dusk, looking out for hornbills and monitor lizards while sipping margaritas, pina coladas, and beers. And, yeah, some of us worked.
If you're looking for a place to get away from it all (most of it, anyway), without compromising comfort or connectivity, consider El Nido. I would go back.
If you've never been to El Nido before, it's one of those places you must add to your bucket list, or the 100 places you must see before you die. The scenery is dramatic--limestone cliffs that fall straight in to the sea. The wildlife is almost alarmingly close by--swallows darting in and out of the dining room, monitor lizards by the pool, hornbills on treetops over your cottage, and, my favorite, the hateful clownfishes ready to attack unsuspecting divers. And the resort? One of the best in the world: small (capacity of about 100 people), intimate, first-rate rooms, first-rate food, and the very best in Filipino hospitality.
The characteristic of the El Nido resorts that is either a plus or a minus, depending on how you like your vacations, is that it is remote. You fly by chartered plane to El Nido and then take a 45-minute boat ride to the resort. While in the resort, the range of activities is limited to hiking, bird watching, watersports, island hopping, sleeping, spa-ing, and eating. There's no clubbing. You can't go shopping. I know of people whose sentiment is that "after five minutes, beautiful gets old--I want action!" These people will not be happy in Lagen.
But we were happy. Three days was about the right amount of time. We were able to dive three times, gaping at schools of yellow snappers and jacks. We took long meals, over long, inconsequential chats. We sat by the pool at dusk, looking out for hornbills and monitor lizards while sipping margaritas, pina coladas, and beers. And, yeah, some of us worked.
If you're looking for a place to get away from it all (most of it, anyway), without compromising comfort or connectivity, consider El Nido. I would go back.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
The great teacher
I occasionally have the privilege of watching some really great teachers at work. You know they are great because you simply can't ignore them. They know their subject matter inside out and they have the charisma and larger-than-life personalities to deliver it with drama and panache.
Just last week, David Diy lectured to the freshmen. Jess asked him to teach them a little bit more about graphics and games in Java. I sat in because, knowing how difficult the subject matter was going to be, I wanted to watch the carnage. More importantly, I wanted to see David in his element.
When David lectures, he is computer science's answer to Robin Williams: part mad-man, part force of nature, part stand up comic, part energizer bunny. His content is rich and his punch lines just keep on coming. He rivets the students with questions like, "Who among you have played Diablo III?" then assaults them with, "Those of you who are afraid of code, look away now!" and "Switch (variable), case (1) Do crap here! Break! Case (2) Do other crap here!" Even when the students try to fight back, they're no match: David asks, "How did I do this?" Someone replies, "Magic!" David parries, "Aside from that!"
At the end of the lecture, the freshmen clapped. And so did I.
Just last week, David Diy lectured to the freshmen. Jess asked him to teach them a little bit more about graphics and games in Java. I sat in because, knowing how difficult the subject matter was going to be, I wanted to watch the carnage. More importantly, I wanted to see David in his element.
When David lectures, he is computer science's answer to Robin Williams: part mad-man, part force of nature, part stand up comic, part energizer bunny. His content is rich and his punch lines just keep on coming. He rivets the students with questions like, "Who among you have played Diablo III?" then assaults them with, "Those of you who are afraid of code, look away now!" and "Switch (variable), case (1) Do crap here! Break! Case (2) Do other crap here!" Even when the students try to fight back, they're no match: David asks, "How did I do this?" Someone replies, "Magic!" David parries, "Aside from that!"
At the end of the lecture, the freshmen clapped. And so did I.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Lessons
While people are quick to accept privilege, they are slower to recognize responsibilities.
The only things certain in this life are death and taxes.
People from whom you expect the least surprise you the most. The people with the most promise bring the greatest disappointments.
Skyrim takes over your life--if you let it.
No one manages your workload for you. You have to learn to manage it yourself.
You shouldn't be afraid to tell people that they're doing badly. Neither should you be shy about telling people they've done well.
For extraordinary things to happen, you need both talent and hard work.
Don't give of yourself if you expect a reward. If you're going to give, give wholly, completely and unconditionally. That should be reward enough.
The only things certain in this life are death and taxes.
People from whom you expect the least surprise you the most. The people with the most promise bring the greatest disappointments.
Skyrim takes over your life--if you let it.
No one manages your workload for you. You have to learn to manage it yourself.
You shouldn't be afraid to tell people that they're doing badly. Neither should you be shy about telling people they've done well.
For extraordinary things to happen, you need both talent and hard work.
Don't give of yourself if you expect a reward. If you're going to give, give wholly, completely and unconditionally. That should be reward enough.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Not as bad as feared
Last Saturday, Jess Sugay, Tricia Monsod, Rina Jimenez and I flew to Naga to conduct a workshop in Ateneo de Naga. We were due to fly back the following day, Sunday, to make it back to the Director's List reception.
The schedule was optimistic in that it assumed that the planes would fly on time. I say this is optimistic because I've heard many, many stories about domestic flights being cancelled or delayed. In my head, I imagined a nightmare scenario in which we would have to travel back to Manila from Naga by land, fighting our way through provincial town traffic, potentially getting stuck for hours...
As bad luck would have it, the flight back was indeed cancelled and we were booked for the following day. Unacceptable. Rina had to be back to sing for the Director's List mass. Jess and I were expected at the reception. We had also invited our current CS students to come talk to the prospective students. We had promised the current students pizza for their trouble. If we didn't show up, they would STARVE! We were able to find a car and driver for hire to take us back to Manila and I braced myself for the worst.
But the worst never happened. We did have to work through a couple of funerals and the beginnings of one fiesta. There were some rough patches and road construction. We have to overtake some slow moving trucks and crawl in front of provincial markets. For the most part, though, we were cruising at a safe yet speedy pace.
We made it back to ADMU by 3:30. Rina missed the mass, but Jess and I made it to the reception. And the children were fed.
When I was in first year college, my English teacher: Make time for time. Don't cut things too close. Build allowances and contingencies in your schedule. She was right, of course, and I honestly didn't plan things to be so harried. Schedules just collided, as they have a tendency to do. And even when things do go wrong, they're seldom ever as bad as you fear. Things work out.
The schedule was optimistic in that it assumed that the planes would fly on time. I say this is optimistic because I've heard many, many stories about domestic flights being cancelled or delayed. In my head, I imagined a nightmare scenario in which we would have to travel back to Manila from Naga by land, fighting our way through provincial town traffic, potentially getting stuck for hours...
As bad luck would have it, the flight back was indeed cancelled and we were booked for the following day. Unacceptable. Rina had to be back to sing for the Director's List mass. Jess and I were expected at the reception. We had also invited our current CS students to come talk to the prospective students. We had promised the current students pizza for their trouble. If we didn't show up, they would STARVE! We were able to find a car and driver for hire to take us back to Manila and I braced myself for the worst.
But the worst never happened. We did have to work through a couple of funerals and the beginnings of one fiesta. There were some rough patches and road construction. We have to overtake some slow moving trucks and crawl in front of provincial markets. For the most part, though, we were cruising at a safe yet speedy pace.
We made it back to ADMU by 3:30. Rina missed the mass, but Jess and I made it to the reception. And the children were fed.
When I was in first year college, my English teacher: Make time for time. Don't cut things too close. Build allowances and contingencies in your schedule. She was right, of course, and I honestly didn't plan things to be so harried. Schedules just collided, as they have a tendency to do. And even when things do go wrong, they're seldom ever as bad as you fear. Things work out.
Choosing the life you want
I had a long chat yesterday with a couple of my students about the costs of having "too many" humanities and social science subjects in the curriculum. They expressed the same concerns we've heard a million times before--that this is the reason our students don't have enough time to become as excellent as we would like in their sciences.
To this, I had a few responses.
First, such is the nature of the Ateneo education. There was a design to all this, a purpose, a reason: Well-roundedness. Interdisciplinarity. Magis. That said, what you get is an imperfect mixed bag that has room for improvement. But no educational system is perfect. You make the best with what you are given.
Second, this is in part how you are supposed to choose your schools. You aren't supposed to be blinded by the glare of the shiny blue acceptance packet. You're supposed to take a hard look at the curriculum and agree to work with it... or not. I'm not saying you can't complain. But just be careful of where you make your attributions.
Which brings me to my third point. I have spent a lot of time with you guys. I have some sense of how you use your time, and it isn't always on theo and philo. The week that Skyrim came out, one of our ACM boys told me he spent TWENTY-FOUR hours that week playing. This also happened to be a week when we were gearing up for the ICPC. Over summer, when I had interns being PAID to work on ALLS projects full-time, with no theo and philo to distract them, the results I got could not have been attributed to full-time work.
Fourth point, some counterexamples: Our varsity teams manage to spend 10 hours a week on training. The Glee Club spends I believe three half days a week on rehearsals. Do they have more hours in their days that everyone else?
Fifth point. I find it ironic that a complaint such as this should be raised in my lab, which is all about interdisciplinarity. If you don't see the relevance of at least the social sciences in what this lab does, then maybe I didn't have you do a thorough enough lit review.
Sixth point. No one every has "enough time" for everything they want to do. Other stuff will always get in the way. There is a legend about a professor in Carnegie Mellon (and CMU is as hard-core as it gets) who looked at his PhD student's grades and said, "You're getting too many As and Bs. Next semester I want to see Cs and Ds." His point? You're spending too much on coursework and not enough time in the lab. And note, this is at the PhD level, so all the coursework is discipline-related.
In summary: We choose we use our time, based on what is important to us. Our students (and pretty much everyone else I know) are among the happy few who are bombarded with options of all kinds. The work just keeps coming in, like a tide. No one will stem it for you. You have to decide what tasks you will undertake and what you will refuse. Try to predict the consequences of your choices and take the course whose consequences you're willing to accept.
Jason King Li, Jeff Jongko and I were talking about this exactly. Jason asked, "What if your prediction is wrong?" Jeff's response, "Shit happens."
To this, I had a few responses.
First, such is the nature of the Ateneo education. There was a design to all this, a purpose, a reason: Well-roundedness. Interdisciplinarity. Magis. That said, what you get is an imperfect mixed bag that has room for improvement. But no educational system is perfect. You make the best with what you are given.
Second, this is in part how you are supposed to choose your schools. You aren't supposed to be blinded by the glare of the shiny blue acceptance packet. You're supposed to take a hard look at the curriculum and agree to work with it... or not. I'm not saying you can't complain. But just be careful of where you make your attributions.
Which brings me to my third point. I have spent a lot of time with you guys. I have some sense of how you use your time, and it isn't always on theo and philo. The week that Skyrim came out, one of our ACM boys told me he spent TWENTY-FOUR hours that week playing. This also happened to be a week when we were gearing up for the ICPC. Over summer, when I had interns being PAID to work on ALLS projects full-time, with no theo and philo to distract them, the results I got could not have been attributed to full-time work.
Fourth point, some counterexamples: Our varsity teams manage to spend 10 hours a week on training. The Glee Club spends I believe three half days a week on rehearsals. Do they have more hours in their days that everyone else?
Fifth point. I find it ironic that a complaint such as this should be raised in my lab, which is all about interdisciplinarity. If you don't see the relevance of at least the social sciences in what this lab does, then maybe I didn't have you do a thorough enough lit review.
Sixth point. No one every has "enough time" for everything they want to do. Other stuff will always get in the way. There is a legend about a professor in Carnegie Mellon (and CMU is as hard-core as it gets) who looked at his PhD student's grades and said, "You're getting too many As and Bs. Next semester I want to see Cs and Ds." His point? You're spending too much on coursework and not enough time in the lab. And note, this is at the PhD level, so all the coursework is discipline-related.
In summary: We choose we use our time, based on what is important to us. Our students (and pretty much everyone else I know) are among the happy few who are bombarded with options of all kinds. The work just keeps coming in, like a tide. No one will stem it for you. You have to decide what tasks you will undertake and what you will refuse. Try to predict the consequences of your choices and take the course whose consequences you're willing to accept.
Jason King Li, Jeff Jongko and I were talking about this exactly. Jason asked, "What if your prediction is wrong?" Jeff's response, "Shit happens."
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
School holidays
There are pros and cons to having school holidays. The definite pro is that you have more time to catch up with life. I had my hair cut (yes, it's even shorter now). I slept longer. I went to the doctor *and* the dentist. I went to the bank. I cooked. Days off give you a chance to take care of yourself and the people you love a little more.
The con is that the world goes on without you. People wait for you to send them forms or statements, and cannot for the life of them figure out why you aren't in your freaking office on a perfectly legitimate work day. On your end, you have to hold off on requests from your workmates, at least until school resumes, because it is a school holiday after all. Ah well, we're back now. Time to squeeze five days of work into three.
The con is that the world goes on without you. People wait for you to send them forms or statements, and cannot for the life of them figure out why you aren't in your freaking office on a perfectly legitimate work day. On your end, you have to hold off on requests from your workmates, at least until school resumes, because it is a school holiday after all. Ah well, we're back now. Time to squeeze five days of work into three.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
The right school
The next few weekends signal the start of a flurry of open houses--attempts to woo those who passed the ACET to come to us for college. These are grand affairs in which prospective students and their parents (and guardians and siblings) are feted and talked up. I love these events, really, because these are perhaps the only days in the year where you (as an institution) have no choice but to be brilliant, witty, radiant, and all-in-all legendary enough to be deserving of the Philippines Most Wanted.
This afternoon, my colleagues and I were talking strategy. How should we approach these students? What should we say? What *shouldn't* we do? There's a temptation to rattle off a laundry list of all our greatness, but it is possible to say too much. God knows I've been guilty of that.
By the end of the conversation, we decided that, before we talk, we should listen. What is it that the students want for themselves? What are their deciding factors? What are their biases, concerns or apprehensions? Some of the people who come to the open house really aren't open to sales talk--they've made up their minds NOT to come to the Ateneo. So why come to the open house at all? They have their reasons: To touch base with friends, to affirm their decision, to please their parents. There are a few who really are on the fence and it's those whose concerns you have to address honestly and unflinchingly.
The most common question: Which school is better, UP (or DLSU) or Ateneo? The standard answer, one that I honestly believe, is that at this bracket there is no better school. There is only the right school for you. Each school has its own culture, its quirks, its hangups. Where do you fit in? Where can you be most productive? Where can you be most happy? For those who are still on the fence, the open houses are our chance to let them get to know us, to be able to answer those questions with more certainty.
Because that's what the open house is supposed to be: a first date, a chance to make an impression. We know that we won't be the right place for many, but how will they know for sure until they've at least listened and seen what we have to say and show? We do our show-and-tell. This is us, we say. We're smart and gorgeous and loony and fun. If you decide that our brand of crazy is not right for you, that's fair. We part as friends. When I used to give the open house talks for DISCS, I used end my spiel with a line from Fr. Joey Cruz: In the end, we really don't care whether you come to the Ateneo or not, but we would hate to have you NOT come simply because you didn't get to know us.
You should at least know what you're missing.
This afternoon, my colleagues and I were talking strategy. How should we approach these students? What should we say? What *shouldn't* we do? There's a temptation to rattle off a laundry list of all our greatness, but it is possible to say too much. God knows I've been guilty of that.
By the end of the conversation, we decided that, before we talk, we should listen. What is it that the students want for themselves? What are their deciding factors? What are their biases, concerns or apprehensions? Some of the people who come to the open house really aren't open to sales talk--they've made up their minds NOT to come to the Ateneo. So why come to the open house at all? They have their reasons: To touch base with friends, to affirm their decision, to please their parents. There are a few who really are on the fence and it's those whose concerns you have to address honestly and unflinchingly.
The most common question: Which school is better, UP (or DLSU) or Ateneo? The standard answer, one that I honestly believe, is that at this bracket there is no better school. There is only the right school for you. Each school has its own culture, its quirks, its hangups. Where do you fit in? Where can you be most productive? Where can you be most happy? For those who are still on the fence, the open houses are our chance to let them get to know us, to be able to answer those questions with more certainty.
Because that's what the open house is supposed to be: a first date, a chance to make an impression. We know that we won't be the right place for many, but how will they know for sure until they've at least listened and seen what we have to say and show? We do our show-and-tell. This is us, we say. We're smart and gorgeous and loony and fun. If you decide that our brand of crazy is not right for you, that's fair. We part as friends. When I used to give the open house talks for DISCS, I used end my spiel with a line from Fr. Joey Cruz: In the end, we really don't care whether you come to the Ateneo or not, but we would hate to have you NOT come simply because you didn't get to know us.
You should at least know what you're missing.
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