The One About the Life of A Working Student

I've spent the majority of my weekends throughout my college career working as a cashier at a grocery store (and at a restaurant before that). It is through working during the weekends and holidays that I get to save some money to pay for my textbooks and other necessities (i.e., food and shopping money) that I don't want my parents and older brother to shoulder. They've done enough by financially supporting everything else that I need in order to go to school without having to worry on how I will get by so I make it a point to not rely on them on things that I can provide for myself by acquiring a job just as any other mid/lower middle class university students in North America.

The reality of it though is that sometimes it gets too much. It can be really tiring and stressful especially if you are full time in school and have classes throughout the five days of the week and then having to spend the entire weekend working. There is no such thing as days off or rest days. You just savour the six or seven hours of sleep you get at night and the occasional nap in the transit en route to either work or school. It feels as though you're in the constant act of balancing and juggling balls in your hand and one wrong move would make you drop the ball and that would be the end of you. But at the same time, it teaches you a lot of things that you would have not learned otherwise.

I learn how to have a better time-management especially when exams and papers are concerned. I also learn to value how I spent my money and make sure that I am not wasting not just what I earn but the time I spent earning them into some meaningless material things. More than anything though, I learn to appreciate my parents and my older brother even more because I know that even if I bust my ass off studying and working on the weekends, what they're been doing and sacrificing is much more significant than what I could possibly do. They pick up the slack that I should be carrying at this age and they make sure that I - and we - live a comfortable life.

Introspectively, it takes a lot of patience and will power to work at the customer service industry. Not only you'll witness how disgusting people can be but it will also make you realize how something as trivial as a uniform and a counter can easily blur common courtesy. Being treated like you're less than everybody else and a complete moron is something that you have to deal with on a daily basis. At first it will offend you but most of the time, you learn to let it go and remind yourself that these people dont know a single shit about you and if anything, their treatment of you is a reflection of their character more than it says about your own. Other times, you learn how to fight for your self, to look them in the eyes and strike back. You learn how to pick your battles.

Working is also a form of motivation. 'Cause it encourages you to strive and work harder in school so you don't have to do the same thing for the rest of life. Not that there is something wrong with being a cashier but really, if you're given the chance to dream and aim for something, you gotta aim and dream higher.

You see, I was 18 when I started working. I worked at a fast-food restaurant (before I transitioned into a fine-dining restaurant) and it was when I was scrubbing toilets that I had a some-sort of epiphany where I told myself that I don't want to scrub toilets for the rest of my life and I gotta do well in school in order to keep myself and my family to have that kind of future. That realization is the beginning of it all. Had I not have that first job, I wouldn't find myself to where I am now and I would be a completely different person.

Funny how things work out sometimes.

I don't really know where this is going. It might be the sleep deprivation or my avoiding of the things I should be doing (prepping for an exam) but for what it's worth, sometimes it's nice to sit down and contemplate on the things that are running in my mind. It is through this that I get to remind myself how far I am from where I started and how life constantly changes.

Indeed, this whole thing is an endless, continuous process of becoming.

The One About the Fettuccine Stir Sticks

The university that I am currently in right now prides itself for being very eco-friendly and for pioneering a very sustainable environment to its inhabitants. Everything is recyclable and biodegradable and they have this complicated bins for garbage. For that same reason is why all university-managed cafés around campus use fettuccine pasta as stir sticks. At first I thought it was really cute. But now it's just pissing me off.

Not only you would require at least 3 or 4 pieces of these weak ass, hipster-friendly, pathetic excuse of a stir stick, it could barely do its job of actually stirring any form of liquid drink and by the time you give up after using about a dozen of them, you'd begin to wonder whether this shit is actually, you know, sustainafuckingble. World hunger is real and a very present issue, you know?

You see, I'm the type of person who's constantly worried and partially pissed about a lot of different things, like, late buses, people who cuts in line anywhere, prof's lame ass jokes, not passing my classes, being at the lower end of the bell curve, glass-ceiling, social injustice, and fettuccine stir sticks.

Most of the time my mind gets so wrapped up about a lot of small things that I shouldn't be worrying about and I feel bad because I know that in grand scale of things, I'm still blessed as fuck. I have roof above my head, food in my stomach, etc. My worries are insignificant as compared to what others might be going through.

But at the same time, it doesn't mean that I am not entitled to feel that way sometimes, right?

So here comes the dilemma. On one hand, my issues are very superficial as compared to others but on the other hand, yes, they are small things but that doesn't mean that it doesn't affect me, you know?

Quite ironically, there is something that needs to be said about how we as humans have this tendency of invalidating people's opinions and issues about their own well-being by maximizing the sufferings and injustices of the underprivileged in our society.

The problem with this is that, we are perpetuating the already apparent appropriation of those that we perceived as less fortunate than us. This, then, intensifies the dichotomous relationship between us versus them and the ideological machinery that enables others to succeed and perceived the rest as victims and/or authors of their own demise. (Side note: Don't take this part way too seriously because as I read this, I can already think of flaws in this logic. But you get the point).

So, where are we going to stand in this issue?

Do we forget about the small things and never worry about them and just focus our attention on the larger, more significant things? Where do we draw the line between what are the things that can be considered as significant and what are not?


Irony is a dick that fucks you in the ass.

Philip DeFranco, a Youtuber, once stated on his videos that "Perception is reality. If it's 88 degrees outside but if Jack thinks it's 100 degrees, then to him it's 100 degrees. If it's true, then why does your opinion matter? Because you believe it does." Applying this concept to the idea that I am blabbering here, then the point of the matter is that, no matter how big or small this thing you're worried or pissed off about, it's okay to feel that way about it without being guilty as to how insignificant it may be in grand scale of things. Your perception is your reality and no one else can live, perceive, and feel the exact same way as you in the exact same time and the exact same space. It turns out we're all fucking special this way.

Although we also have to be careful because this idea might backfire. I guess the critical thing is to adopt the adage, "Count your blessings." That, and add the idea to not count others' misfortune in the process.

I guess my take out on this is that, I can either be pissed at fettuccine for being a useless piece of a stir stick or be thankful enough that I have something to actually use it for.

I'm sorry about this mess.


Blame the fucking fettuccine stir sticks.

The One About the Paradox of Power

Earlier last week I received an email from the students' association of our faculty regarding the upcoming election for the organization. The application for all administrative positions are all open and everyone's welcome to apply.

I've contemplated about handing in an application for the presidential position but up until this point I am still considering whether or not I should do it. I talked to some of my friends about it and they all encourage me to do it but I'm still weighing the pros and cons of doing so.

As I've mentioned before, I've been participating with a lot of different organizations and programs within the university and community. I like the challenge, the experience, and being able to get out there and become a part of something great.

One of my motivations for wanting to apply for this position is that I know I can do the job if I really  want to. I want to create a more inclusive community for the students in our faculty and take down the wall that separates the elite from the rest of the student body. I want to be able to create an organization that would allow each and every student to have the opportunity to actively participate on the issues that concern them and allow them to have the chance to have access to resources that only the elite are benefiting from. I want to create a fair ground where everyone will have the ability to explore our area of study in a deeper and more meaningful level and to let them know that our faculty is not just for the few but for all and learning doesn't just unfold inside of the lecture halls but between the direct interaction between the students and the faculty members. I want to be able to breakdown the stereotype that the students in our faculty are socially inept and highly exclusive.

But then again, that's just the idealist in me. It rarely ever happens that things happen the way I want them to.

And even if I want to do this, I have to give up some other aspect of life. Seeing that I already have three volunteer programs, a part-time job, and full-time classes it is impossible to fit something else in my already full schedule. If only there are more than 24 hours a day.

One other thing is that, aside from the mentioned reasons above on why I want to run for the presidential position, I couldn't deny the fact that there are also some selfish reasons as to why I am contemplating on running. I would be a hypocrite if I say it's all for everyone's benefit while I would highly benefiting from it as well. It would open doors for me to have more connections with faculty members and the university itself. It would allow me to have a decorative merit in my resume that would highly attract my future employers. I would also have the bragging rights to run the largest student faculty association in one of the top universities in the world and the ranked as the top university in the country for our program. I would be able to have access to opportunities that are only catered to a few number of people. The power and opportunities are invigorating.

I know it's fucked up to say that but that's the reality of it. I am a human being and I know I am not desensitized to be blinded with what I could gain from having that kind of power. In the end, I may not at all be different from the people before me. I may not be able to actually do what I envisioned doing. I hate to be that kind of person and it is something that I would never be proud of.

It's a paradox, if you must. But one thing I know is that, I may not run or win that position but I do know that, that is not the only way to make a difference or contribute something meaningful. Perhaps instead of thinking about others or focus on this thing, I ought to fix my own academic life first and get my shit together.

Either way, a girl can dream every once in a while, eh?

The One About Another Year

Today I turn 22. Just like the year before and the year before that, I am again reminded of how time flies by and how quickly things change and how I have this conflicted feelings about my own birthday. 

On one hand it is the day I often thought about the things that I have done so far, if I am completely satisfied where I am at this point in my life, if I am where I want to be, and where will I go from here. Yet on the opposite of it, is the overwhelming sense of okay-ness in looking back and reminiscing the changes that have happened and how far and different I am from the way I used to be. It is a balancing act of the past, the unknown, and the now.

I know that sometimes it is quite debilitating to think about these things on the day that I am supposed to be celebrating this life that I have. But what is celebration if you don't know exactly what  is the celebration for. Add that to my inability to actually live in the moment.

Nevertheless, I am thankful. I am blessed. I am here.

I am thankful for my parents who taught me about selflessness, love, compassion, and the strong will to conquer feats without completely losing myself in the process. And even more importantly, to be okay with things that I cannot control.

I am thankful for my brothers who are always here to guide, support, and laugh with me be that in happy days and not so good days.

To the friends I have since day one, my midnight phone calls and the comfort I need and the people who constantly talk me out of my self-served misery.

To the people at my workplace who always welcome me with open arms, big smiles, and just overall loving and supporting.

To everyone else in between, who have changed my life in so many ways and change the way I think and the way person I want to be, to all of you, I owe whom I've become thus far.

It is amazing to think about how time flies by and how quickly the world is changing and you adjusting, catching up, and learning to phase yourself with those changes.

I don't know where I'll be a year from now. I don't know where I'm heading or what I'll be doing a year from now. I still have a lot of uncertainties, I have so much more to learn and figure out. And sometimes it's fucking scary. But you know what, just like a year before or the year before that and the year before that year, I know I will be alright and I will learn how to be okay with it. 

After all, that is what life is all about... An endless process of becoming.

So here's to another year of life!

To love and to live,

- BatangG

The One About Running

I never like running on a treadmill. It always feel like I'm trying to get to somewhere but I am still stuck in the same spot I was before. It felt as though I am running without destination - no sense of purpose - a waste of effort and energy. But even more importantly, the four walls that surrounds a treadmill is not as liberating as the idea of being out there, of getting somewhere, and travelling an actual distance that are not represented by the numbers on screen.

Or maybe because instead of freeing my mind from the preoccupations of all the banal things in my life, I always find myself drowned in them instead. It's pretty much the same as running on treadmill - running without getting anywhere.

Back when we still live in Vancouver, I was able to go out for a run three or four times a week depending on the weather. I have this specific route I take from our house to this lake. I found it liberating and it was all I needed in order to keep my shit together. There was something about being out there that helped me stay sane and re-adjust my perspective about the things that bothered me. I was never bothered about the muscle spasms or my lungs screaming for air. I could close my eyes and keep my legs moving and know that I will get to where I wanted to go.

I miss that feeling, you know? The feeling to completely lose myself in the moment, to defy the boundaries I have for myself, to feel my heart pounding against my chest, to have that adrenaline rush when I hit my five-mile mark, and to slowly ease myself on the grass as I looked up the blue sky and listen to the quiet whisper of the water and the birds singing what I can only imagine as the sound of contentment and bliss. T'was on those moments that I get to tell myself that there are better days.

But as nice as those moments I do not wish to re-live them or turn back time and be there again. It's nice enough that I have a reminder that I have lived.

This post was supposed to be for running and for the sake of accuracy, I'll try to get back on that.

Maybe we all have our treadmill and trail run moments. Maybe we all have something that we are trying to run away from or something that we desperately want to run to. Perhaps we all that have phantom finish line that we're trying to cross. Perhaps we all use running, in any sense of the word, to cope and feel or not feel, to forget, or to remember, and yet we're all reminded of the same thing - to live the moments in between.

Maybe running on a treadmill helps to keep us grounded and running outside reminds us of infinite possibilities. Maybe what we need is just a little bit of both.

The only trick is to keep your foot in front of the other and hope that someday, it'll be worth it.

The One About the Old Playlist

The thing about music is that not only it keeps us company, it also reminds us of a specific time, a specific place, and if we're lucky enough, feelings that are engraved with that music. It's a hella amazing way to preserve memories - good and bad.

I've been feeling down a lot lately. I have no motivation to do anything and I may have a breakdown or two. I am quite familiar with situations like this and I learn to ride it out and keep my shit together until I feel better - or at least close to it. Because sometimes that's all we can do, right?

Last night I was browsing on my old laptop when I came across my old music folder. It has been awhile since the last time I checked it since I thought I deleted everything when I upgraded my computer. Little did I know, all of my songs from the last six years are still there. It's like an unprecedented trip down the memory lane. 

Somehow I couldn't help but smile. It felt as though I'm watching the last six years of my life unfold in front of me through the songs that played in my ears. It's those songs that remind me of how far I am from where I started and how much I've grown since then and how many shitty moments I get to overcome. It's fucking inspiring. Seriously.

Perhaps, sometimes, that's all we need, you know? To sit back down and listen to our old playlist. To remind ourselves of the good days and the bad days. To tell ourselves that it's okay to be sad, helpless, and not having able to figure out everything. Because just as the songs and music reminds us, we get to live through it all and someday we'll be able to look back and know that we did it before so, it's sure as hell that we can go on.

The music never stops.