lucky

Suddenly the old Britney Spears song played in my head.

But no, that's got nothing to do with this post (the song or Britney,i mean).

It's weird how quicky I shift emotions. Just yesterday I felt like the biggest wretch of the earth (around 10.30am onwards) and though I was kinda good at hiding how I really felt around everyone, the moment they'd left suddenly became cue for realizations to sink in and I cried. There was just too many welled up emotions waiting to burst and I succumed. So there I was, in a videotaped public area, stiffling like a crazy person. I'm not sure if I should be glad the team had gone home or be totally embarrassed that the staff at the Prometric Testing Center might've seen me from their monitors. ANYWAY. I hope they wouldn't have much of a recall in 30 days when I return to hopefully redeem myself.

Today though, I can't really claim that I'm over it because I have everyone around me as a constant reminder that I'd screwed up but at the same time I'd like to believe I've gotten into terms with the situation and I've come to accept that this is my fate and that there is a greater reason behind it that I am yet to understand.

You know when you get to a point where you become so devastated and there's nothing else you can do, really, because it's been done and you're just faced with the consequences of your actions that you just move on and accept reality with open arms? 

It's a bittersweet feeling. At the same I feel lucky that life gives second chances. 

A Boy, A Girl, and An Apple

Holocaust survivors tell love story

By MATT SEDENSKY, Associated Press Writer Sun Oct 12, 3:11 PM ET 

NORTH MIAMI BEACH, Fla. 

In the beginning, there was a boy, a girl and an apple. 

He was a teenager in a concentration camp in Nazi-controlled Germany. She was a bit younger, living free in the village, her family posing as Christians. Their eyes met through a barbed-wire fence and she wondered what she could do for this handsome young man.

She was carrying apples, and decided to throw one over the fence. He caught it and ran away toward the barracks. And so it began.

As they tell it, they returned the following day and she tossed an apple again. And each day after that, for months, the routine continued. She threw, he caught, and both scurried away.

They never knew one another's name, never uttered a single word, so fearful they'd be spotted by a guard. Until one day he came to the fence and told her he wouldn't be back.

"I won't see you anymore," she said. "Right, right. Don't come around anymore," he answered.

And so their brief and innocent tryst came to an end. Or so they thought.

___

Before he was shipped off to a death camp, before the girl with the apples appeared, Herman Rosenblat's life had already changed forever.

His family had been forced from their home into a ghetto. His father fell ill with typhus. They smuggled in a doctor, but there was little he could do to help. The man knew what was coming. He summoned his youngest son. "If you ever get out of this war," Rosenblat remembers him saying, "don't carry a grudge in your heart and tolerate everybody."

Two days later, the father was dead. Herman was just 12.

The family was moved again, this time to a ghetto where he shared a single room with his mother, three brothers, uncle, aunt and four cousins. He and his brothers got working papers and he got a factory job painting stretchers for the Germans.

Eventually, the ghetto was dissolved. As the Poles were ushered out, two lines formed. In one, those with working papers, including Rosenblat and his brothers. In the other, everyone else, including the boys' mother.

Rosenblat went over to his mother. "I want to be with you," he cried. She spoke harshly to him and one of his brothers pulled him away. His heart was broken.

"I was destroyed," Rosenblat remembers. It was the last time he would ever see her.

___

It was in Schlieben, Germany, that Rosenblat and the girl he later called his angel would meet. Roma Radziki worked on a nearby farm and the boy caught her eye. And bringing him food — apples, mostly, but bread, too — became part of her routine.

"Every day," she says, "every day I went." 

Rosenblat says he would secretly eat the apples and never mentioned a word of it to anyone else for fear word would spread and he'd be punished or even killed. When Rosenblat learned he would be moved again — this time to Theresienstadt, in what is now the Czech Republic — he told the girl he would not return. 

Not long after, the Russians rolled in on a tank and liberated Rosenblat's camp. The war was over. She went to nursing school in Israel. He went to London and learned to be an electrician. 

Their daily ritual faded from their minds. 

"I forgot," she says. 

"I forgot about her, too," he recalls. 

Rosenblat eventually moved to New York. He was running a television repair shop when a friend phoned him one Sunday afternoon and said he wanted to fix him up with a girl. Rosenblat was unenthusiastic: He didn't like blind dates, he told his friend. He didn't know what she would look like. But finally, he relented. 

It went well enough. She was Polish and easygoing. Conversation flowed, and eventually talk turned to their wartime experiences. Rosenblat recited the litany of camps he had been in, and Radziki's ears perked up. She had been in Schlieben, too, hiding from the Nazis. 

She spoke of a boy she would visit, of the apples she would bring, how he was sent away. 

And then, the words that would change their lives forever: "That was me," he said. 

Rosenblat knew he could never leave this woman again. He proposed marriage that very night. She thought he was crazy. Two months later she said yes. 

In 1958, they were married at a synagogue in the Bronx — a world away from their sorrows, more than a decade after they had thought they were separated forever. 

___ 

It all seems too remarkable to be believed. Rosenblat insists it is all true.

Even after their engagement, the couple kept the story mostly to themselves, telling only those closest to them. Herman says it's because they met at a point in his life he'd rather forget. But eventually, he said, he felt the need to share it with others. 

Now, the Rosenblats' story has inspired a children's book, "Angel Girl." And eventually, there are plans to turn it into a film, "The Flower of the Fence." Herman expects to publish his memoirs next year. 

Michael Berenbaum, a distinguished Holocaust scholar who has authored a dozen books, has read Rosenblatt's memoir and sees no reason to question it. 

"I wasn't born then so I can't say I was an eyewitness. But it's credible," Berenbaum said. "Crazier things have happened." 

Herman is now 79, and Roma is three years his junior; they celebrated their 50th anniversary this summer. He often tells their story to Jewish and other groups. 

He believes the lesson is the very one his father imparted. 

"Not to hate and to love — that's what I am lecturing about," he said. "Not to hold a grudge and to tolerate everybody, to love people, to be tolerant of people, no matter who they are or what they are." 

The anger of the concentration camps, Herman says, has gone away. He forgave. And his life has been filled with love.

frustrated

There's nothing worse than feeling you're just not good enough. And it doesn't help that a majority of the people you're with are actually excelling at something you're expected to have an understanding of when in fact you're just a little too lost than the rest of them. It's just so frustrating because you know you're not daft and yet the results show otherwise.

new 'do?

I'm planning a change in hairstyle and i need your help.. shoulder length or shorter?

Quotable Evans..

Some of you may have read some of his books.. I've read a majority in his collection and is a certified fan.. ANYWAY, here's something I found today that you might appreciate:

http://www.thequotableevans.com/pdf/QuotableEvans_2007a.pdf

Enjoy! Ü

licensed (part 2)

And so I took the 7 yesterday and passed (thank God).  I just about gave my friends a heart-attack by keeping them in suspense about the results because they were all scheduled to take the exam a day earlier which left me taking it on my own.. well not really because i had 8 other people from my batch but no one really close enough to share the ANXIETY with. haha. 

I semi-slept the night to before to review and plus I was such a nervous-wreck I couldn't get my mind off the many what if's (what if i don't pass? will i resign? will i wait to re-take it? will i have a team to go back to? what will everyone think?). So I went to work looking like a zombie and 'twas like my soul had left my body that morning. I couldn't feel a thing. My hands were ice cold and they felt no sensation. I barely touched my breakfast for fear of barfing any moment. I refused to drink anything --I did not like the idea of taking a bathroom break in the middle of probably the most important exam of my life. I've never felt this nervous/scared/apprehensive in a long time and somehow it felt relieving knowing these feelings make the experience more real.

My first set was tough.. not a lot of computations but more on analysis which consumed most of my time. I took the mandatory 30-minute break (after the first 3 hours) feeling dejected already. At this point I already visualized a 38% final score on the whole thing. The second part was more on options which is my up of tea as compared to the terminologies and rules and regulations. I almost comsumed the entire 3 hours since i had to manually compute for the answers.

The clincher though, was the last 10 seconds after submitting my exam where I had to wait for my scores to appear on the screen.. It was the longest 10 seconds of my life. And so with closed eyes, i held my breath and prayed. There were a lot of texts on the screen when i first opened my eyes to see and I was kinda confused where to look for the results itself.. haha.. it took around 3 seconds before i finally saw the word "PASS" beside my actual score and i had to exhale a huge mass of breath since i've been holding it for a while. Again, however elated I was, I closed my eyes, bowed down my head and prayed. It wasn't all me you know.Ü

I'm registered here. Ü

licensed!

I took the nerve-wracking s7 exam today at the Prometric Testing Center at ADMU in Salcedo.. The exam was broken down into 2 parts: 130 questions each part lasting for 3 hours. 

I MADE IT. I PASSED. Ü

I'll be glad to fill you in on the details but for now my head is killing me and i have got to rekindle my relationship with my bed (which i have greatly missed in my successive all-nighters, study sleep-overs). ANYWAY, I'll go hit the sack. Be back with the details tomorrow. good

HIGH SCHOOL REUNION - St. Scho Manila Batch '99

As posted by Shiva Mehrabi on Facebook.

Happy New Year Everyone!

As our humble way of celebrating the holidays, Mariel and I had our initial discussion on what could possibly bring us back to those days when high school fairs were pretty scarce and bringing dates was the coolest thing that could ever happen.

Please bookmark MAY 16 (Saturday) 2:00 to 6:00 pm for the revival of the last high school fair we had.

Yet to be aptly titled and appropriately held, we wish to bring together our entrepreneuring batchmates to put up their booths; and equally the shopaholics within each one of us to sample and support our batchmates' crafts -- from the most luxurious to the craziest items ever conceived. Foodies are highly encouraged!

We'll also have booths for men and kids so you can all bring your S.O.'s and your respective brooding families. This will indeed be the perfect venue for networking, bonding, catching up, and of course, SHOPPING!

Sorry to disappoint but kissing booths are so 1999.

PS --

This might not be what you had in mind in looking forward to a reunion; but hey, this is the closest we can get to reliving our high school days all over again. If you have any more ideas, please feel free to message Mariel or me. We'll organize another meeting in the near future and we look forward to volunteers who can help us cook up this event.

For those who have booths that can participate in this mini-fair, please give us a heads-up so we can include you in the draft list we're preparing. We'd like to invite as much people while keeping the event as exclusive (and affordable) as possible.

A Long Walk to Forever By Kurt Vonnegut from Welcome To the Monkey House

This short story was shared to me by my good friend Anne years ago and I just found it again online today. 

~o0o~

They had grown up next door to each other, on the fringe of a city, near fields and woods and orchards, within sight of a lovely bell tower that belonged to a school for the blind.

Now they were twenty, had not seen each other for nearly a year. There had always been playful, comfortable warmth between them, but never any talk of love.

His name was Newt. Her name was Catharine. In the early afternoon, Newt knocked on Catharine's front door.

Catharine came to the door. She was carrying a fat, glossy, magazine devoted entirely to brides. "Newt!" she said. She was surprised to see him.

"Could you come for a walk?" he said. He was a shy person, even with Catharine. He covered his shyness by speaking absently, as though what really concerned him were far away--as though he were a secret agent pausing briefly on a mission between beautiful, distant, and sinister points. This manner of speaking had always been Newt's style, even in matters that concerned him desperately.

"A walk?" said Catharine.

"One foot in front of the other," said Newt, "through leaves, over bridges--"

"I had no idea you were in town," she said.

"Just this minute got in," he said.

"Still in the Army, I see," she said.

"Seven more months to go," he said. He was a private first class in the Artillery. His uniform was rumpled. His shoes were dusty. He needed a shave. He held out his hand for the magazine. "Let's see the pretty book," he said.

She gave it to him. "I'm getting married, Newt," she said.

"I know," he said. "Let's go for a walk."

"I'm awfully busy, Newt," she said. "The wedding is only a week away."

"If we go for a walk," he said," it will make you rosy. It will make you a rosy bride." He turned the pages of the magazine. "A rosy bride like her--like her--like her," he said, showing her rosy brides.

Catharine turned rosy, thinking about rosy brides.

"That will be my present to Henry Stewart Chasens," said Newt. "By taking you for a walk, I'll be giving him a rosy bride."

"You know his name?" asked Catharine.

"Mother wrote," he said. "From Pittsburgh?"

"Yes," she said. "You'd like him."

"Maybe," he said.

"Can--can you come to the wedding, Newt?" she said.

"That I doubt," he said.

"Your furlough isn't long enough?" she said.

"Furlough?" said Newt. He was studying a two-page ad for flat silver. "I'm not on furlough," he said.

"Oh?" she said.

"I'm what they call AWOL," said Newt.

"Oh, Newt! You're not!" she said.

"Sure I am," he said, still looking at the magazine.

"Why, Newt?" she said.

"I had to find out what your silver pattern is," he said. He read names of silver patterns from the magazine. "Albemarle? Heather?" he said. "Legend? Rambler Rose?" He looked up, smiled. "I plan to give you and your husband a spoon," he said.

"Newt, Newt, tell me really," she said.

"I want to go for a walk," he said.

She wrung her hands in sisterly anguish. "Oh, Newt--you're fooling me about being AWOL," she said.

Newt imitated a police siren softly, raised his eyebrows.

"Where--where from?" she said.

"Fort Bragg," he said.

"North Carolina?" she said.

"That's right," he said. "Near Fayetteville--where Scarlett O'Hara went to school."

"How did you get here?"

He raised his thumb, jerked it in a hitchhike gesture. "Two days," he said.

"Does your mother know?"

"I didn't come to see my mother," he said.

"Who did you come to see?"

"You," he said.

"Why me?" she said.

"Because I love you," he said. "Now can we take a walk?" he said. "One foot in front of the other--through leaves, over bridges"

They were taking the walk now, were in a woods with a brown-leaf floor. Catharine was angry and rattled, close to tears. "Newt," she said, "this is absolutely crazy."

"How so?" asked Newt.

"What a crazy time to tell me you love me," she said. "You never talked that way before." She stopped walking.

"Let's keep walking," he said.

"No," she said. "So far, no farther. I shouldn't have come out with you at all," she said.

"You did."

"To get you out of the house," she said. "If somebody walked in and heard you talking to me that way, a week before the wedding--"

"What would they think?"

"They'd think you were crazy," she said.

"Why?" he said.

Catharine took a deep breath, made a speech. "Let me say that I'm deeply honored by this crazy thing you've done," she said. "I can't believe you're really AWOL, but maybe you are. I can't believe you really love me, but maybe you do. But--"

"I do," said Newt.

"Well, I'm deeply honored," said Catharine, "and I'm very fond of you as a friend, Newt, extremely fond--but it's just too late." She took a step away from him. "You've never even kissed me," she said, and she protected herself with her hands. "I don't mean you should do it now. I just mean this is all so unexpected. I haven't got the remotest idea how to respond."

"Just walk some more," he said. "Have a nice time."

They started walking again.

"How did you expect me to react?" she said.

"How would I know what to expect?" he said. "I've never done anything like this before."

"Did you think I would throw myself into your arms?"

"Maybe," he said.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," she said.

"I'm not disappointed," he said. "I wasn't counting on it. This is very nice, just walking."

Catharine stopped again. "You know what happens next?"

"Nope," he said.

"We shake hands," she said. "We shake hands and part friends," she said. "That's what happens next."

Newt nodded. "All right," he said. "Remember me from time to time. Remember how much I loved you."

Involuntarily, Catharine burst into tears. She turned her back to Newt, looked into the infinite colonnade of the woods.

"What does that mean?" asked Newt.

"Rage!" said Catharine. She clenched her hands. "You had no right--"

"I had to find out," he said.

"If I'd loved you," she said, "I would have let you know before now."

"You would?" he said.

"Yes," she said. She faced him, looked up at him, her face quite red. "You would have known."

"How?"

"You would have seen it," she said. "Women aren't very clever at hiding it."

Newt looked closely at Catharine's face. To her consternation, she realized that what she had said was true, that a woman couldn't hide love.

Newt was seeing love now. And he did what he had to do. He kissed her.

"You're hell to get along with!" she said when Newt had let her go.

"I am?" said Newt.

"You shouldn't have done that."

"You didn't like it?" he said.

"What did you expect?" she said--"wild, unbridled passion?"

"I keep telling you," he said. "I never know what's going to happen next."

"We say good-bye," she said.

He frowned slightly. "All right," he said.

She made another speech. "I'm not sorry we kissed, " she said. "That was sweet. We should have kissed, we've been so close. I'll always remember you, Newt, and good luck."

"You too," he said.

"Thank you, Newt."

"Thirty days," he said.

"What?" she said.

"Thirty days in the stockade," he said--"that's what one kiss will cost me."

"I--I'm sorry," she said, "but I didn't ask you to go AWOL."

"I know," he said.

"You certainly don't deserve any hero's reward for doing something as foolish as that," she said.

"Must be nice to be a hero," said Newt. "Is Henry Stewart Chasens a hero?"

"He might be, if he got the chance," said Catharine. She noted uneasily that they had begun to walk again. The farewell had been forgotten.

"You really love him?" said Newt.

"Certainly I love him!" she said hotly. "I wouldn't marry him if I didn't love him!"

"What's good about him?" said Newt.

"Honestly!" she cried, stopping again. "Do you have any idea how offensive you're being? Many, many, many things are good about Henry! Yes," she said, "and many, many many things are probably bad too. But that isn't any of your business. I love Henry, and I don't have to argue with you!"

"Sorry," said Newt.

"Honestly!" said Catharine.

Newt kissed her again. He kissed her again because she wanted him to.

They were now in a large orchard.

"How did we get so far from home, Newt?"

"One foot in front of the other--through leaves, over bridges," said Newt.

"They add up--the steps," she said.

Bells rang in the tower of the school for the blind nearby.

"School for the blind," said Newt.

"School for the blind," said Catharine. She shook her head in drowsy wonder. "I've got to get back now," she said.

"Say goodbye," said Newt.

"Every time I do," said Catharine, "I seem to get kissed."

Newt sat down on the close-cropped grass under an apple tree. "Sit down," he said.

"No," she said.

"I won't touch you."

"I don't believe you." She sat under another tree, twenty feet away from him. She closed her eyes.

"Dream of Henry Stewart Chasens," he said.

"What?" she said.

"Dream of your wonderful husband-to-be," he said.

"All right, I will," she said. She closed her eyes tighter, caught glimpses of her husband-to-be.

Newt yawned.

The bees were humming in the trees, and Catharine almost fell asleep. When she opened her eyes she saw that Newt really was asleep.

He began to snore softly.

Catharine let Newt sleep for an hour, and while he slept she adored him with all her heart.

The shadows of the apple trees grew to the east. The bells in the tower of the school for the blind rang again.

"Chick-a-dee-dee-dee", went a chickadee.

Somewhere, far away, an automobile starter nagged and failed, nagged and failed, fell still.

Catharine came out from under her tree, knelt by Newt.

"Newt?" she said.

"H'm?" he said.

"Late," she said.

"Hello, Catharine," he said.

"Hello, Newt," she said.

"I love you."

"I know," she said.

"Too late," he said.

"Too late," she said. He stood, stretched groaningly. "A very nice walk," he said.

"I thought so," she said.

"Part company here?" he said.

"I thought so," she said.

"Where will you go?"

"Hitch into town, turn myself in," he said.

"Good luck," she said.

"You, too," he said. "Marry me, Catharine?"

"No," she said.

He smiled, stared at her hard for a moment, then walked away quickly.

Catharine watched him grow smaller in the long perspective of shadows and trees, knew that if he stopped and turned now, she would run to him. She would have no choice.

Newt did stop. He did turn. He did call. "Catharine," he said.

She ran to him, put her arms around him, could not speak.

thinking aloud

What to do when cramming no longer works... hohum..