Just Passing By

There is something to be said about reading and editing for a living. You get into the habit of reading not for pleasure but to look for errors, for flow, for tone, for guarding the company brand. In short, it takes away the fun of reading for reading’s sake. Now, when I read, I can easily spot misplaced punctuations, awkward sentences, poor word choice. Besides, my eyes will be too tired after a long day at work that I just want to give them a rest and stare into space.

I’ve started reading seriously when I was in 3rd grade. I was introduced to Nancy Drew and then moved to cheesy teenage pocketbooks like Sweet Valley High. Then it was off to Barbara Cartland and the Mills&Boons and Danielle Steele. There were times when I’d rather curl up on the couch at home than go out with friends. The magic of being whisked in places faraway through the pages of a book appealed to me more than the idea of biking around the neighborhood chasing boys.

Such is my love affair with books. So to take that pleasure away is so very sad, tragic even.

That led me to re-discover the joys of reading, not with my eyes but with my ears. I brought the kids to the library two days ago and saw this huge sign against one wall: AUDIO BOOKS. Like a magnet, I was pulled to it and marveled at the wide selection. There were 3 books from Maya Angelou that I’ve been wanting to read by they were only in cassette. I don’t remember when the last time I had a cassette player was. Too bad.

So I ended up borrowing two other books in CD. On my drive to work the next morning, I popped a CD in my car. The experience was mind blowing! It felt like I had my own personal assistant who was reading to me. It’s not anything like the “dula sa radyo” of the olden days that our labanderas used to listen to from their little transistors. (Remember Simatar and Gabi ng Lagim?) The audio book was simply a book that’s being read to you aloud by someone else.

You know when you can’t put a good book down, saying to yourself, just one more chapter, just one more page and then realize that it’s already past midnight and you have an early start the next day? I didn’t want my drive to end. Even when I already parked in front of the building, I lingered a little, wishing I wasn’t here yet. The characters just had their first conflict.

I told my kids how much I was enjoying my audio books and Goji casually asked: So Mommy, is this a sign that you’re old?” Shit, maybe I am.

I sit in front of my computer at work, marveling at how quiet it is. The nearest soul is two cubicles up. And all I can hear is the tapping of the keyboard. It is Friday, and it’s been two weeks since the lay off.

I was angry when my co-workers were let go. I was scared when I wondered when my turn will be. I stressed, worried and lost sleep when I had to take on more responsibilities; to take on jobs that I don’t have the skill for. I was lonely for the friends I can no longer hang out with in the office kitchen. I was uplifted when I talked to my family, especially my Dad, who thinks the world of me, like I can never make any mistake.

I’ve been through a roller coaster ride. My heart is tired.

But I can’t complain. Whenever I think of the millions of people who’ve become victims of this recession, the people who now rely for food stamps, those who’ve lost their homes, those who took their own lives from despair, I know I am immensely blessed.

This coming Tuesday marks our 4th anniversary here in the US. And the journey has been amazing as it is humbling. Now I can say for sure that there is no menial job that I won’t take on. No homesickness that a fone card or email can’t cure. Most of all, I have earned the right not to take crap from anyone. My brown skin works for me both ways. I am still tan in the winter when everyone is paper white which makes me an envy of the whole white race. But it also makes me stand out from the crowd, which isn’t a good thing. Like all immigrants, I had my share of discrimination.

I may be an immigrant, but I never, ever for once, asked the government for any dole outs. I came here with the right papers.  I’ve worked as soon as I got my driver’s license. I paid my taxes dutifully. I abide by all the rules. Heck, I don’t even have a speeding ticket.  I donate to local charities even though I wish I could just ship those to my people in the Philippines. I have as much right to be here as every outstanding citizen.

I claim my place in the sun.