When Promises are Made to be Broken

I received once an email from somebody. The contents felt more obligatory than sincere. It contained a promise.

Promises are made to be broken. When words are easily promised, they are easily forgotten, too. There is a saying, too, that a promise is like a piecrust made to be broken. That is why as much as possible one should not give his or her word uncaringly. When one swears, it is binding.

On the other hand, though one breaks a promise, he or she will still have that chance to make it up. But it should be the soonest possible time. Or else, ramifications will ensnare you to no end.

People who could EASILY make promises sometimes seem not to care the least. They have priorities in their lives, all right. But they should vow no vows when things are not really doable or probable. They should consider how the other party would feel being taken for granted, or being belittled because he or she is ignored.

What if there are more important things that one should address? Then don’t promise. Please. It would be understandable if you don’t give a word. Just tell that you will try to the best that you can. But no promises.

We might be guilty one way or another of giving promises that we could not keep. We have the chance to ponder now – consider what we would feel if someone did not keep his or her word.

When Promises are Made to be Broken

I received once an email from somebody. The contents felt more obligatory than sincere. It contained a promise.

Promises are made to be broken. When words are easily promised, they are easily forgotten, too. There is a saying, too, that a promise is like a piecrust made to be broken. That is why as much as possible one should not give his or her word uncaringly. When one swears, it is binding.

On the other hand, though one breaks a promise, he or she will still have that chance to make it up. But it should be the soonest possible time. Or else, ramifications will ensnare you to no end.

People who could EASILY make promises sometimes seem not to care the least. They have priorities in their lives, all right. But they should vow no vows when things are not really doable or probable. They should consider how the other party would feel being taken for granted, or being belittled because he or she is ignored.

What if there are more important things that one should address? Then don’t promise. Please. It would be understandable if you don’t give a word. Just tell that you will try to the best that you can. But no promises.

We might be guilty one way or another of giving promises that we could not keep. We have the chance to ponder now – consider what we would feel if someone did not keep his or her word.

When Promises are Made to be Broken

I received once an email from somebody. The contents felt more obligatory than sincere. It contained a promise.

Promises are made to be broken. When words are easily promised, they are easily forgotten, too. There is a saying, too, that a promise is like a piecrust made to be broken. That is why as much as possible one should not give his or her word uncaringly. When one swears, it is binding.

On the other hand, though one breaks a promise, he or she will still have that chance to make it up. But it should be the soonest possible time. Or else, ramifications will ensnare you to no end.

People who could EASILY make promises sometimes seem not to care the least. They have priorities in their lives, all right. But they should vow no vows when things are not really doable or probable. They should consider how the other party would feel being taken for granted, or being belittled because he or she is ignored.

What if there are more important things that one should address? Then don’t promise. Please. It would be understandable if you don’t give a word. Just tell that you will try to the best that you can. But no promises.

We might be guilty one way or another of giving promises that we could not keep. We have the chance to ponder now – consider what we would feel if someone did not keep his or her word.

Unforgettable

Way back in high school, I was one of the few chosen to represent the school in the press conferences – where competitions on writing skills were held. I competed for feature writing in Filipino. First, it was the Division Press Conference and I was included in the top ten. Second, it was the Regional Press Conference and I was included in the top ten again. The rules included that one should be included in the top ten from the Regional Press Conference to make it to the National Press Conference. Lucky me.

It was a group of students and teachers when we departed to Baguio, the place where the National Press Conference will be held. It was an unforgettable experience really. I was so excited to go minus the extravagant preparation. Blame it on my naïve notions about traveling because I was never really exposed to it. Plus I was a plain student from a plain family with a plain life. The household where I grew up never bothered about traveling even to the nearest destination.

So I went. I had with me a few supplies, little money, and a few sets of clothes. They were provisions from a hard-up family. This was the reason probably why I had to be treated the way one of the teachers who were with us treated me – like I am a nobody. But I brushed them all aside. After all, I said to myself, I won in the Regional Press Conference and I deserve to compete with the others from the different regions of the country.

We were there for a week. The program for the whole week included listening to Onofre Corpuz and other speakers, group activities, briefings, socialization gatherings and parties, the competition, and the awarding. It got me all excited when the day of the competition finally came. It was what I looked forward to for the whole week, nothing else. I was never even excited about meeting other people from different schools. I was for the rest of the week just waiting for that day.

We were guided to the room where the competition was to be held. As far as I can remember, the participants of the feature writing contest in Filipino occupied three or four rooms. It was Liwayway Arceo, of Liwayway magazine, who was to judge our pieces. The topic was about progress. In the Filipino language, kaunlaran. I had my piece title as Ang Pilipinas at ang Tatlong Mukha ng Kaunlaran (The Philippines and the Three Faces of Progress).

After a little while of forming thoughts on what I would write, I wrote silently, then submitted it to the proctor. I was able to finish my piece shortly. I never was a fan of long articles. I believe even before that a writer should express his/her thoughts concisely to gain attention, not to beat around the bush.

The competition for my category went simultaneously with the other categories – news writing (in Filipino and English), editorial writing (in Filipino and English), and feature writing (in English). I could not exactly remember if there was sports-writing. When almost everybody from our group had finished, this teacher I was talking about asked excitedly what every one of us wrote. My fellow students, some were classmates, confidently narrated what they wrote. They each received a pat on the back for a job well done. I was the last one she asked, or just for formality’s sake, she asked me at last. My answer was a plain, “Tsaka na lang, Ma’am, pagkatapos ng awarding.” (Later, Ma’am, after the awarding.) Guess what I received from her? “’Eto talaga si ______, wala akong kapag-a-pag-asa!” (I see no hope in you, ______!) I kept mum, feeling inferior again for the nth time. This is the price of somebody not well heeled, and so I thought. Still, I did not tell her. “I don’t care what you think,” I thought callously.

Finally, the awards day came, that was a day (or two?) after the competition. All the winners of the above-mentioned categories were announced. Our group was gloomily listening to the announcements as nobody from the group made it, and while we were all listening to the last category (feature writing in Filipino), our teachers, including THAT teacher, started giving encouraging words like there will always be a next time, etc, etc. I had given up hope after the sixth winner was announced, and I bet everybody felt the same way. I was starting to pacify myself from the disappointment when suddenly, “Third Place, from Quezon City…” We were stiffened, and so was everybody from each school from Quezon City. “From Project 4,…” I never waited for the announcer to mention my name and my school. There was nobody there from a Project 4, Quezon City school but me. I jumped and shouted with joy, unmindful of the stares.

While I was nervously but excitedly up there on the stage, grinning, I thought, “It was finally the dirtbag who brought honor to the school.” Handshakes and words of congratulations were many but it was THAT teacher’s handshake and words of congratulations that mattered. I can feel the guilt within her and it felt like “vengeance is mine” for me. When they brought me home, she told my parents, “Ang galing-galing po ng anak niyo!” (Your daughter is great!) What a hypocrite!

Unforgettable

Way back in high school, I was one of the few chosen to represent the school in the press conferences – where competitions on writing skills were held. I competed for feature writing in Filipino. First, it was the Division Press Conference and I was included in the top ten. Second, it was the Regional Press Conference and I was included in the top ten again. The rules included that one should be included in the top ten from the Regional Press Conference to make it to the National Press Conference. Lucky me.

It was a group of students and teachers when we departed to Baguio, the place where the National Press Conference will be held. It was an unforgettable experience really. I was so excited to go minus the extravagant preparation. Blame it on my naïve notions about traveling because I was never really exposed to it. Plus I was a plain student from a plain family with a plain life. The household where I grew up never bothered about traveling even to the nearest destination.

So I went. I had with me a few supplies, little money, and a few sets of clothes. They were provisions from a hard-up family. This was the reason probably why I had to be treated the way one of the teachers who were with us treated me – like I am a nobody. But I brushed them all aside. After all, I said to myself, I won in the Regional Press Conference and I deserve to compete with the others from the different regions of the country.

We were there for a week. The program for the whole week included listening to Onofre Corpuz and other speakers, group activities, briefings, socialization gatherings and parties, the competition, and the awarding. It got me all excited when the day of the competition finally came. It was what I looked forward to for the whole week, nothing else. I was never even excited about meeting other people from different schools. I was for the rest of the week just waiting for that day.

We were guided to the room where the competition was to be held. As far as I can remember, the participants of the feature writing contest in Filipino occupied three or four rooms. It was Liwayway Arceo, of Liwayway magazine, who was to judge our pieces. The topic was about progress. In the Filipino language, kaunlaran. I had my piece title as Ang Pilipinas at ang Tatlong Mukha ng Kaunlaran (The Philippines and the Three Faces of Progress).

After a little while of forming thoughts on what I would write, I wrote silently, then submitted it to the proctor. I was able to finish my piece shortly. I never was a fan of long articles. I believe even before that a writer should express his/her thoughts concisely to gain attention, not to beat around the bush.

The competition for my category went simultaneously with the other categories – news writing (in Filipino and English), editorial writing (in Filipino and English), and feature writing (in English). I could not exactly remember if there was sports-writing. When almost everybody from our group had finished, this teacher I was talking about asked excitedly what every one of us wrote. My fellow students, some were classmates, confidently narrated what they wrote. They each received a pat on the back for a job well done. I was the last one she asked, or just for formality’s sake, she asked me at last. My answer was a plain, “Tsaka na lang, Ma’am, pagkatapos ng awarding.” (Later, Ma’am, after the awarding.) Guess what I received from her? “’Eto talaga si ______, wala akong kapag-a-pag-asa!” (I see no hope in you, ______!) I kept mum, feeling inferior again for the nth time. This is the price of somebody not well heeled, and so I thought. Still, I did not tell her. “I don’t care what you think,” I thought callously.

Finally, the awards day came, that was a day (or two?) after the competition. All the winners of the above-mentioned categories were announced. Our group was gloomily listening to the announcements as nobody from the group made it, and while we were all listening to the last category (feature writing in Filipino), our teachers, including THAT teacher, started giving encouraging words like there will always be a next time, etc, etc. I had given up hope after the sixth winner was announced, and I bet everybody felt the same way. I was starting to pacify myself from the disappointment when suddenly, “Third Place, from Quezon City…” We were stiffened, and so was everybody from each school from Quezon City. “From Project 4,…” I never waited for the announcer to mention my name and my school. There was nobody there from a Project 4, Quezon City school but me. I jumped and shouted with joy, unmindful of the stares.

While I was nervously but excitedly up there on the stage, grinning, I thought, “It was finally the dirtbag who brought honor to the school.” Handshakes and words of congratulations were many but it was THAT teacher’s handshake and words of congratulations that mattered. I can feel the guilt within her and it felt like “vengeance is mine” for me. When they brought me home, she told my parents, “Ang galing-galing po ng anak niyo!” (Your daughter is great!) What a hypocrite!

Unforgettable

Way back in high school, I was one of the few chosen to represent the school in the press conferences – where competitions on writing skills were held. I competed for feature writing in Filipino. First, it was the Division Press Conference and I was included in the top ten. Second, it was the Regional Press Conference and I was included in the top ten again. The rules included that one should be included in the top ten from the Regional Press Conference to make it to the National Press Conference. Lucky me.

It was a group of students and teachers when we departed to Baguio, the place where the National Press Conference will be held. It was an unforgettable experience really. I was so excited to go minus the extravagant preparation. Blame it on my naïve notions about traveling because I was never really exposed to it. Plus I was a plain student from a plain family with a plain life. The household where I grew up never bothered about traveling even to the nearest destination.

So I went. I had with me a few supplies, little money, and a few sets of clothes. They were provisions from a hard-up family. This was the reason probably why I had to be treated the way one of the teachers who were with us treated me – like I am a nobody. But I brushed them all aside. After all, I said to myself, I won in the Regional Press Conference and I deserve to compete with the others from the different regions of the country.

We were there for a week. The program for the whole week included listening to Onofre Corpuz and other speakers, group activities, briefings, socialization gatherings and parties, the competition, and the awarding. It got me all excited when the day of the competition finally came. It was what I looked forward to for the whole week, nothing else. I was never even excited about meeting other people from different schools. I was for the rest of the week just waiting for that day.

We were guided to the room where the competition was to be held. As far as I can remember, the participants of the feature writing contest in Filipino occupied three or four rooms. It was Liwayway Arceo, of Liwayway magazine, who was to judge our pieces. The topic was about progress. In the Filipino language, kaunlaran. I had my piece title as Ang Pilipinas at ang Tatlong Mukha ng Kaunlaran (The Philippines and the Three Faces of Progress).

After a little while of forming thoughts on what I would write, I wrote silently, then submitted it to the proctor. I was able to finish my piece shortly. I never was a fan of long articles. I believe even before that a writer should express his/her thoughts concisely to gain attention, not to beat around the bush.

The competition for my category went simultaneously with the other categories – news writing (in Filipino and English), editorial writing (in Filipino and English), and feature writing (in English). I could not exactly remember if there was sports-writing. When almost everybody from our group had finished, this teacher I was talking about asked excitedly what every one of us wrote. My fellow students, some were classmates, confidently narrated what they wrote. They each received a pat on the back for a job well done. I was the last one she asked, or just for formality’s sake, she asked me at last. My answer was a plain, “Tsaka na lang, Ma’am, pagkatapos ng awarding.” (Later, Ma’am, after the awarding.) Guess what I received from her? “’Eto talaga si ______, wala akong kapag-a-pag-asa!” (I see no hope in you, ______!) I kept mum, feeling inferior again for the nth time. This is the price of somebody not well heeled, and so I thought. Still, I did not tell her. “I don’t care what you think,” I thought callously.

Finally, the awards day came, that was a day (or two?) after the competition. All the winners of the above-mentioned categories were announced. Our group was gloomily listening to the announcements as nobody from the group made it, and while we were all listening to the last category (feature writing in Filipino), our teachers, including THAT teacher, started giving encouraging words like there will always be a next time, etc, etc. I had given up hope after the sixth winner was announced, and I bet everybody felt the same way. I was starting to pacify myself from the disappointment when suddenly, “Third Place, from Quezon City…” We were stiffened, and so was everybody from each school from Quezon City. “From Project 4,…” I never waited for the announcer to mention my name and my school. There was nobody there from a Project 4, Quezon City school but me. I jumped and shouted with joy, unmindful of the stares.

While I was nervously but excitedly up there on the stage, grinning, I thought, “It was finally the dirtbag who brought honor to the school.” Handshakes and words of congratulations were many but it was THAT teacher’s handshake and words of congratulations that mattered. I can feel the guilt within her and it felt like “vengeance is mine” for me. When they brought me home, she told my parents, “Ang galing-galing po ng anak niyo!” (Your daughter is great!) What a hypocrite!

Mahilig Din sa Blogs

Ang hindi ko alam bago pa man ako magkainteres sa blogging, ang aking bunso ay nahilig na pala sa mga blogs. Bakit daw ba? E, kasi nga po siya ay fan ng GMA – 7. Sa kakabantay sa ratings ng GMA at ABS-CBN, nahilig na siyang magbasa ng mga blogs tungkol sa mga programa, tv shows, tv series, telenovela ng GMA-7. Matagal na pala siyang lumalahok sa palitan ng ideya at mga opinion tungkol sa mga isyu at mga programa ng sinasabing network.

Hanggang ngayon ay sumusubaybay pa rin siya. Nakikilahok sa mga opinion. Isa sa mga kinalolokohan niya sa ngayon ay ang Encantadia – ang telepantasyang sikat na sikat sa ngayon dito sa Pinas. Nakakaaliw na hindi marahil alam ng kausap (reviewer ng tv series) ni Daryl na siya ay isa lamang 12-taong gulang na bata. Silipin nga natin ang palitan ng kanilang opinion dito. Siya si real-kapuso dito.

Ngayon, ay may sarili na siyang blog at say mo, ang unang topic ay politics! Mabibigla ka rin sa kakayahan ni Daryl talaga. Hindi mo inaasahan ang mga tumatakbo sa isip niya. Hindi siya isang ordinaryong bata na laro at pagsasaya lamang ang mahalaga (na hindi ko naman sinasabing masama). May sarili siyang mundo. May sariling takbo ang isip.

Habang si Kay ay abala sa pagiging sociable sa eskuwelahan (at nalaman ko rin ito kay Kay), si Daryl ay naroon daw sa library at nagbabasa ng diyaryo o ng mga librong kumukuha ng interes niya. Madalas pinapaalalahanan ko nga na mahalaga na nakiki-pag-socialize ang isang tao. Alam daw niya iyon. At tanungin mo kung ano ang priorities niya – sasagutin ka ng “To enjoy life!” Paano ba? “LOTR, SIMS.” Kakaiba ano?

Mahilig Din sa Blogs

Ang hindi ko alam bago pa man ako magkainteres sa blogging, ang aking bunso ay nahilig na pala sa mga blogs. Bakit daw ba? E, kasi nga po siya ay fan ng GMA – 7. Sa kakabantay sa ratings ng GMA at ABS-CBN, nahilig na siyang magbasa ng mga blogs tungkol sa mga programa, tv shows, tv series, telenovela ng GMA-7. Matagal na pala siyang lumalahok sa palitan ng ideya at mga opinion tungkol sa mga isyu at mga programa ng sinasabing network.

Hanggang ngayon ay sumusubaybay pa rin siya. Nakikilahok sa mga opinion. Isa sa mga kinalolokohan niya sa ngayon ay ang Encantadia – ang telepantasyang sikat na sikat sa ngayon dito sa Pinas. Nakakaaliw na hindi marahil alam ng kausap (reviewer ng tv series) ni Daryl na siya ay isa lamang 12-taong gulang na bata. Silipin nga natin ang palitan ng kanilang opinion dito. Siya si real-kapuso dito.

Ngayon, ay may sarili na siyang blog at say mo, ang unang topic ay politics! Mabibigla ka rin sa kakayahan ni Daryl talaga. Hindi mo inaasahan ang mga tumatakbo sa isip niya. Hindi siya isang ordinaryong bata na laro at pagsasaya lamang ang mahalaga (na hindi ko naman sinasabing masama). May sarili siyang mundo. May sariling takbo ang isip.

Habang si Kay ay abala sa pagiging sociable sa eskuwelahan (at nalaman ko rin ito kay Kay), si Daryl ay naroon daw sa library at nagbabasa ng diyaryo o ng mga librong kumukuha ng interes niya. Madalas pinapaalalahanan ko nga na mahalaga na nakiki-pag-socialize ang isang tao. Alam daw niya iyon. At tanungin mo kung ano ang priorities niya – sasagutin ka ng “To enjoy life!” Paano ba? “LOTR, SIMS.” Kakaiba ano?

Personality Disorders

I have been meaning to post this a long time ago due to the experiences I encounter day by day with people who seem to be difficult to get along with. Or maybe I experience these difficulties as a result of my own personality?

Anyway, there are two definitions from the Encarta dictionary and from the Encarta reference article that for me, are the exact meaning of a personality disorder.

*psychiatric disorder: a psychiatric disorder in attitude or behavior that makes it difficult for somebody to get along with other people or to succeed at work or in social situations but that does not involve loss of touch with reality
Microsoft® Encarta® Reference Library 2004. © 1993-2003 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.
*disorders in which one’s personality results in personal distress or significantly impairs social or work functioning.
© 1993-2003 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.

I would be dramatizing the different personality disorders to let every person who stumbles upon this article grab what they mean. The following are sample scenarios for each type of personality disorder:

ANTISOCIAL
(Husband to wife while she asks for money…)
Husband: (curses and shouts) Bullshit! What will you need the money for?!? I had given you money just the other day! You nincompoop! Trim your expenses!

BORDERLINE
(Boyfriend breaking up with girlfriend…)
Girlfriend: (frantically) No! Please, don’t do this to me! I can’t live without you! If you go, I’ll commit suicide!

AVOIDANT
(Mother wants to introduce her daughter to the visitors…)
Daughter: I don’t wanna be introduced. I don’t know them, Mother. They’ll probably think I look hideous!

DEPENDENT
(A 15-year old seeks Mommy’s help…)
15-year old boy: Mommy, I can’t do this. I can’t tie my shoelace.

HISTRIONIC
(A campus candidate, in a crowd, talking to her friends, in a LOUD voice, MAKING NOISE to be recognized.)
Candidate: Look, people, she is nothing compared to me. She is a loser! I am more eloquent than she is!

NARCISSISTIC
(Man in a bar, showing off…)
Man: Nobody can resist my charm, man. Wait here. (whistles at a GRO) Hey, sweetie, want to spend the night with a good-looking fella?

OBSESSIVE-COMPULSIVE
(A woman to her maid…)
Woman: How come you do not learn? When you put this towel on the rack, be sure that the edges are parallel to each other. Also, if the curtain is blue, the towel should be blue, too.

PARANOID
(A sicko threatens…)
Brother (to his sister): (Angrily) Go ahead, tell her everything. Tell her stories about me again. You’ll gain something out of it again, anyway! Squealer! I tell you, pick a fight with those you can handle…

SCHIZOID
Girl 1: Hey, here she is!
Girl 2: Bet my ass she wouldn’t spend a sec to even glance.
(Girl 3 passes by, ignoring the two.)
Girl 1: Hi, nice vest you have there.
(Girl 3 stared, with brows arched, and continued walking toward the classroom.)

SCHIZOTYPAL
(A boy suddenly speaks in foreign language, assuming dominance…)
Boy 1: Figlio maschile! Ne’ ragazzo maschile?
Boy 2: Wha – t?? Speak in English, man!
(Boy 1 walks away, smiling.)

DEPRESSIVE
(An overly depressed man relates…)
Man: Everything is useless. What is the point of going to work everyday? We all die after all.

PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE
(A brother ignoring authority…)
Brother: Ate deserves it. She likes to nag. I am not doing anything. Let her do the work. I don’t care if she dies. And please stop bickering with me. You want to be next?

Now, here’s a challenge to you. Create a definition. Without the dictionary and other references.

This post is akin to Teacher Sol’s Emotional Vampires.

Personality Disorders

I have been meaning to post this a long time ago due to the experiences I encounter day by day with people who seem to be difficult to get along with. Or maybe I experience these difficulties as a result of my own personality?

Anyway, there are two definitions from the Encarta dictionary and from the Encarta reference article that for me, are the exact meaning of a personality disorder.

*psychiatric disorder: a psychiatric disorder in attitude or behavior that makes it difficult for somebody to get along with other people or to succeed at work or in social situations but that does not involve loss of touch with reality
Microsoft® Encarta® Reference Library 2004. © 1993-2003 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.
*disorders in which one’s personality results in personal distress or significantly impairs social or work functioning.
© 1993-2003 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.

I would be dramatizing the different personality disorders to let every person who stumbles upon this article grab what they mean. The following are sample scenarios for each type of personality disorder:

ANTISOCIAL
(Husband to wife while she asks for money…)
Husband: (curses and shouts) Bullshit! What will you need the money for?!? I had given you money just the other day! You nincompoop! Trim your expenses!

BORDERLINE
(Boyfriend breaking up with girlfriend…)
Girlfriend: (frantically) No! Please, don’t do this to me! I can’t live without you! If you go, I’ll commit suicide!

AVOIDANT
(Mother wants to introduce her daughter to the visitors…)
Daughter: I don’t wanna be introduced. I don’t know them, Mother. They’ll probably think I look hideous!

DEPENDENT
(A 15-year old seeks Mommy’s help…)
15-year old boy: Mommy, I can’t do this. I can’t tie my shoelace.

HISTRIONIC
(A campus candidate, in a crowd, talking to her friends, in a LOUD voice, MAKING NOISE to be recognized.)
Candidate: Look, people, she is nothing compared to me. She is a loser! I am more eloquent than she is!

NARCISSISTIC
(Man in a bar, showing off…)
Man: Nobody can resist my charm, man. Wait here. (whistles at a GRO) Hey, sweetie, want to spend the night with a good-looking fella?

OBSESSIVE-COMPULSIVE
(A woman to her maid…)
Woman: How come you do not learn? When you put this towel on the rack, be sure that the edges are parallel to each other. Also, if the curtain is blue, the towel should be blue, too.

PARANOID
(A sicko threatens…)
Brother (to his sister): (Angrily) Go ahead, tell her everything. Tell her stories about me again. You’ll gain something out of it again, anyway! Squealer! I tell you, pick a fight with those you can handle…

SCHIZOID
Girl 1: Hey, here she is!
Girl 2: Bet my ass she wouldn’t spend a sec to even glance.
(Girl 3 passes by, ignoring the two.)
Girl 1: Hi, nice vest you have there.
(Girl 3 stared, with brows arched, and continued walking toward the classroom.)

SCHIZOTYPAL
(A boy suddenly speaks in foreign language, assuming dominance…)
Boy 1: Figlio maschile! Ne’ ragazzo maschile?
Boy 2: Wha – t?? Speak in English, man!
(Boy 1 walks away, smiling.)

DEPRESSIVE
(An overly depressed man relates…)
Man: Everything is useless. What is the point of going to work everyday? We all die after all.

PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE
(A brother ignoring authority…)
Brother: Ate deserves it. She likes to nag. I am not doing anything. Let her do the work. I don’t care if she dies. And please stop bickering with me. You want to be next?

Now, here’s a challenge to you. Create a definition. Without the dictionary and other references.

This post is akin to Teacher Sol’s Emotional Vampires.

Personality Disorders

I have been meaning to post this a long time ago due to the experiences I encounter day by day with people who seem to be difficult to get along with. Or maybe I experience these difficulties as a result of my own personality?

Anyway, there are two definitions from the Encarta dictionary and from the Encarta reference article that for me, are the exact meaning of a personality disorder.

*psychiatric disorder: a psychiatric disorder in attitude or behavior that makes it difficult for somebody to get along with other people or to succeed at work or in social situations but that does not involve loss of touch with reality
Microsoft® Encarta® Reference Library 2004. © 1993-2003 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.
*disorders in which one’s personality results in personal distress or significantly impairs social or work functioning.
© 1993-2003 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.

I would be dramatizing the different personality disorders to let every person who stumbles upon this article grab what they mean. The following are sample scenarios for each type of personality disorder:

ANTISOCIAL
(Husband to wife while she asks for money…)
Husband: (curses and shouts) Bullshit! What will you need the money for?!? I had given you money just the other day! You nincompoop! Trim your expenses!

BORDERLINE
(Boyfriend breaking up with girlfriend…)
Girlfriend: (frantically) No! Please, don’t do this to me! I can’t live without you! If you go, I’ll commit suicide!

AVOIDANT
(Mother wants to introduce her daughter to the visitors…)
Daughter: I don’t wanna be introduced. I don’t know them, Mother. They’ll probably think I look hideous!

DEPENDENT
(A 15-year old seeks Mommy’s help…)
15-year old boy: Mommy, I can’t do this. I can’t tie my shoelace.

HISTRIONIC
(A campus candidate, in a crowd, talking to her friends, in a LOUD voice, MAKING NOISE to be recognized.)
Candidate: Look, people, she is nothing compared to me. She is a loser! I am more eloquent than she is!

NARCISSISTIC
(Man in a bar, showing off…)
Man: Nobody can resist my charm, man. Wait here. (whistles at a GRO) Hey, sweetie, want to spend the night with a good-looking fella?

OBSESSIVE-COMPULSIVE
(A woman to her maid…)
Woman: How come you do not learn? When you put this towel on the rack, be sure that the edges are parallel to each other. Also, if the curtain is blue, the towel should be blue, too.

PARANOID
(A sicko threatens…)
Brother (to his sister): (Angrily) Go ahead, tell her everything. Tell her stories about me again. You’ll gain something out of it again, anyway! Squealer! I tell you, pick a fight with those you can handle…

SCHIZOID
Girl 1: Hey, here she is!
Girl 2: Bet my ass she wouldn’t spend a sec to even glance.
(Girl 3 passes by, ignoring the two.)
Girl 1: Hi, nice vest you have there.
(Girl 3 stared, with brows arched, and continued walking toward the classroom.)

SCHIZOTYPAL
(A boy suddenly speaks in foreign language, assuming dominance…)
Boy 1: Figlio maschile! Ne’ ragazzo maschile?
Boy 2: Wha – t?? Speak in English, man!
(Boy 1 walks away, smiling.)

DEPRESSIVE
(An overly depressed man relates…)
Man: Everything is useless. What is the point of going to work everyday? We all die after all.

PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE
(A brother ignoring authority…)
Brother: Ate deserves it. She likes to nag. I am not doing anything. Let her do the work. I don’t care if she dies. And please stop bickering with me. You want to be next?

Now, here’s a challenge to you. Create a definition. Without the dictionary and other references.

This post is akin to Teacher Sol’s Emotional Vampires.

The Substitute/s

A woozy man in a bar asked a curvaceous, young woman what exactly her work is in the bar. The young woman replied, “I am a substitute.” “Oh, you mean, a prostitute.” The woman replied, “No, my mother is the prostitute. I am the substitute when she is not available.”

Shot 1

The young woman might have thought that being a substitute is a different thing. In the absurdity of it all, she might have wanted to tell the man this – “I am a novice. Don’t expect too much.” From a different setup, say in an organization structure, this scenario also takes place. Those who were delegated substitute posts think that they are not completely accountable. This means that they cannot be blamed for the unfavorable yields because they are only substitutes. Is this so?

Shot 2

Spoof intended, parents of youngsters in child prostitution should be hailed for the cunning strategy they have – making their children work for them, earn lots of money, and meet big timers who are patronizers of young flesh. Real substitutes. Next time, you see these parents in a luxurious Ford beater, clad in fashion and jewelries, dining out at luxurious diners, or living in a classy suburbia. Wanna beat it?

Shot 3

Our governmental system laced by waste, inefficiency and red tape are filled with ‘substitutes’ that are perfunctory. They were molded to what we perceive as robots manipulated by elites greedy for power and money. They are reflections of the ‘mother’ to which they are ‘substitutes’.

I feel woozy, too, like that man, not because of alcohol but because of this momentary contemplation on social problems, which is not mine alone, but worldwide. Wonder if who among the three: Superman, Spiderman, or Batman, could save us from the menace? Batman, you are my choice.

The Substitute/s

A woozy man in a bar asked a curvaceous, young woman what exactly her work is in the bar. The young woman replied, “I am a substitute.” “Oh, you mean, a prostitute.” The woman replied, “No, my mother is the prostitute. I am the substitute when she is not available.”

Shot 1

The young woman might have thought that being a substitute is a different thing. In the absurdity of it all, she might have wanted to tell the man this – “I am a novice. Don’t expect too much.” From a different setup, say in an organization structure, this scenario also takes place. Those who were delegated substitute posts think that they are not completely accountable. This means that they cannot be blamed for the unfavorable yields because they are only substitutes. Is this so?

Shot 2

Spoof intended, parents of youngsters in child prostitution should be hailed for the cunning strategy they have – making their children work for them, earn lots of money, and meet big timers who are patronizers of young flesh. Real substitutes. Next time, you see these parents in a luxurious Ford beater, clad in fashion and jewelries, dining out at luxurious diners, or living in a classy suburbia. Wanna beat it?

Shot 3

Our governmental system laced by waste, inefficiency and red tape are filled with ‘substitutes’ that are perfunctory. They were molded to what we perceive as robots manipulated by elites greedy for power and money. They are reflections of the ‘mother’ to which they are ‘substitutes’.

I feel woozy, too, like that man, not because of alcohol but because of this momentary contemplation on social problems, which is not mine alone, but worldwide. Wonder if who among the three: Superman, Spiderman, or Batman, could save us from the menace? Batman, you are my choice.

The Substitute/s

A woozy man in a bar asked a curvaceous, young woman what exactly her work is in the bar. The young woman replied, “I am a substitute.” “Oh, you mean, a prostitute.” The woman replied, “No, my mother is the prostitute. I am the substitute when she is not available.”Shot 1

The young woman might have thought that being a substitute is a different thing. In the absurdity of it all, she might have wanted to tell the man this – “I am a novice. Don’t expect too much.” From a different setup, say in an organization structure, this scenario also takes place. Those who were delegated substitute posts think that they are not completely accountable. This means that they cannot be blamed for the unfavorable yields because they are only substitutes. Is this so?

Shot 2

Spoof intended, parents of youngsters in child prostitution should be hailed for the cunning strategy they have – making their children work for them, earn lots of money, and meet big timers who are patronizers of young flesh. Real substitutes. Next time, you see these parents in a luxurious Ford beater, clad in fashion and jewelries, dining out at luxurious diners, or living in a classy suburbia. Wanna beat it?

Shot 3

Our governmental system laced by waste, inefficiency and red tape are filled with ‘substitutes’ that are perfunctory. They were molded to what we perceive as robots manipulated by elites greedy for power and money. They are reflections of the ‘mother’ to which they are ‘substitutes’.

I feel woozy, too, like that man, not because of alcohol but because of this momentary contemplation on social problems, which is not mine alone, but worldwide. Wonder if who among the three: Superman, Spiderman, or Batman, could save us from the menace? Batman, you are my choice.

His Turn

I posted a poem in Thoughts in Verses. This is where i store my poems – the whispers of my soul.

The poem was a creation by (Lord) Daryl, my son (he chuckled as I address him this). My son is fond of fantasy stories. He loves The Lord of the Rings, which is the greatest fantasy book ever written by a human, according to him. He thinks that the story is very well-written that it is light years away from Harry Potter. And because of this, he is also fond of writing stories which he does not finish. Well, I told him not to force himself to write. He should write when he feels like it.

There is a story which he got inspired to write a poem. Though he had not finished it yet, this poem was a part of the story.

The Search

(This is a poem uttered by Lord Aldeni. For he is searching for his beloved,the fair Treira Vande who has been lost in the lands east of the Windy Mountains.)

I search for the gift that I have lost

Afraid it might have turned to dust

I roam the broad lands, vast and great

My heart – afraid – that I’m too late

I yearn in my heart so greatly

To find it I shall be happy

Yet if lost forever, oh no!

My heart will lose remaining glow

I roam the earth from north to south

And I walk here and there and about

I roam the world from east to west

Even though I will get no long rest

Til I find this gift I search for

I shall endure darkness and gore

Through the heavens, I’ll fly the dove

All I’ll do – to find my lost love

Daryl is 12 years old, a second year HS student. He is still a child in manners but talks and discusses like an experienced adult. One of his questions I cannot forget and which was unexpected – “Ma, do you think VAT can help?” I went like, “Whaa…t?” I explained it to him and he was so interested – I really never expected it from him.