PR at home

I am a communicator of messages by profession, but I have never felt as challenged in sending a message as I am with my kids.  Are my objectives measurable, realistic, and specific? Do I have my key messages right? Am I using the right medium?  Are they listening?  Because if they are, after all, then they sure are doing a very good job of looking as though nothing I say can help.

Five top reasons communications is not quite an area of specialty at home:

my lullaby

"With your work and your four kids, I'm just curious -- when do you find the time to read?!"

She knows about how much I love to read, books in particular. And, she had a point. It's been getting more challenging to get to read as much and as often as I used to. I didn't need to think hard for the answer. I told my workmate the truth: I read at night.

Reading at night is a vital element holding up the rest of why I am the way I am --  my habits (coffee *sigh*), my body clock, my work practices -- me! Which came first?  My love for reading.

Here are the top reasons I love to read books:

finding comfort in knowing even just a bit

I find myself sometimes agonizing over things I cannot fix. It's difficult being a control freak in a world where you are not the director. Not even the scriptwriter. Thank God for everyday microcosms: my work desk, my work, my family -- no strike that -- , my quiet time in the bathroom, where I have even just a modicum of control.

I tried to fix a printer that won't work earlier today. Everyone just gave up and said, "we bought a bad one."

To save or not to save

So many people lost their loved ones, their homes, their cars, and their other prized possesions during the recent floods brought about by Tropical Storm Ketsana, referred to locally -- and already used as an adjective and verb -- as Ondoy. Rich or poor, everyone in the metro was affected, either directly or through loved ones, friends, and/or workmate.

Surveying the damage and the losses right after the worst of the flood was the most painful... or so one might think. It has actually been a series of pain and torture. My home was spared, but I had so much stuff at my parents' house, I had even just a fraction of an idea of what they felt. First, devastation, then helplessness, then the overwhelmed sense you get when you are faced with a to-do list so long and a time table so tight. Then you learn to let go, take a deep breath, then begin the process of cleaning up and rebuilding. All throughout picking up a lesson or two.

One thing Typhoon Ketsana has taught me is that when faced with a few minutes before disaster strikes, what can I save?

my missing-in-action passion

I can't actually say it's totally gone. It still shows itself every now and then.

My visual of it would be the spurts of water that escape an over-filled tea pot when it boils, causing the tea pot to emit what would sound almost like a choking gurgle, instead of a whistle.

Passion in life. Passion for life. Passion. Just passion. Where could it have dwindled into? It took me here where I am today, yet I could swear I am just floating through every day, in the general sense.

I get a few minutes of bravery every now and then, when I would have enough courage to ask myself what I am still passionate about. Where is my passion? Top five answers my over-analytical or over-worked, or even over-rationalizing got me: