Adhesive Episode 1

Thanks to my three-year packaging stint, I have sincere respect for adhesives. No species can be as fickle-minded and highly misunderstood as the adhesives.

I inherited an entire empire of training materials on all sorts of packaging. Flexibles, rigids/bottles, caps, labels, printing technology, CMYK, inks and pigments – but the common denominator of most packaging when assembled together is the adhesive. Without it, there will be delamination. Cartons will have open flaps and bottles will have peeling labels (or worse, no labels). Being the most obscure and less popular, there is little training material on adhesives. Most are only the basic stuff.

While we were working on a supposedly big project, we encountered a packaging problem that was linked to adhesives. It could be the equipment; it could the bottle; and it could be the atmospheric condition as labels are temperature-sensitive. But the root-cause pointed to the adhesive.

Adhesives are temperature-sensitive. In my thirteen-year career so far, I have worked on at least two products and four raw/pack mats that are temperature-sensitive. By temperature-sensitive, we mean it cannot be stored below 30-35C or more (depending on the degree of testing done by its manufacturers researchers, or the lack of it come to think about that). Which means air-conditioned shipping and storage or else, blah blah blah blah will happen. I recall our Ops team sharing an office space with such a raw material, during those early days when insisting on AC-storage meant shutting down a project, and not sharing the office space with the raw material in tow would mean a violation of the RMS.

I, a human being survived working in a 32C/88%RH warehouse, spending one shift or more for several months collecting samples and doing my weekly testing in the same area, survived. But apparently these materials can’t. We have a material now for whom we cleared a hefty amount of warehouse space (while others slumber on floor space, which gave rise to the On-Floor Location to make it technically correct and acceptable), just so it can sit under 26C temperature. Air-conditioned, of-course. We even joked that it is so comfy we can probably put a work pod next to it, or hold meetings in the same space during diabolical seasons. Assuming HS&E will allow, of course. And assuming humans won't contaminate the atmosphere.

Back to the adhesives…

I was victim of lousy shoe adhesives at least twice. The first one can be ruled out as unfortunate but the second one was downright embarrassing and shot up my BP to dangerous levels.

Both circumstances involve travelling at high altitude and low temperature. And both involved shoes that come with soles that are held together by adhesives. Which formed my hypothesis that shoe adhesives fail when exposed to sudden low temp and high altitude. Which means you end up with broken shoes. Note that it is plural because in my experience, it happens not only to one but to both!

The first incident involved a pair of sneakers. A new pair bought by my husband in his futile attempt to get me to do some exercise. I decided to wear it to this teambuilding event somewhere in foggy Tagaytay where sports attire is a must. Few minutes after landing to our venue, the soles gave way. Given that it is new and that it is a reputable brand, I found it weird. I probably look ridiculous with my sneakers’ wayward sole flapping noisily everytime I had to walk but there was nothing I can do. But to add to the horror, the other pair started to give way too! Pair of soleless sneakers flapping about makes me want to laugh hysterically for looking like an idiot without even trying! I won't be caught looking like one so I had to think fast.

And then in a perfect Mentos-moment, I summoned enough force to tear-off the blasted soles from the sneakers and in a jiffy, I was walking back normally and you can’t tell the difference. I was 0.5 inch shorter but the sneaker looked just fine.

Talk about Adhesive Episode Two, it requires a separate column space altogether so I'll end it here for now.

Stormy Days Are Here Again

This time I meant literally. It's about time we get some rain, but storms are entirely a different matter.

We received news about tropical storm Basyang around late Tuesday afternoon. Google says its gonna be Signal #2 in Laguna where we live (and work). In our country, being visited by Storm Signal #2 is like having mid-morning coffee. We were so used to it we even have Storm Preparation Checklist.

But never underestimate storms. Even those that come with the same signal/strength, storms are not created equal.

I was determined to sleep early that night, having been up in the plant by 4:30 am that day(!). I kept the transistor radio on beside me for some latebreaking news about Basyang. I noticed it was quite calm outside and there was no mention in the late night news.

I was roused around 12 midnight and I heard the wind howling eerily and mercilessly gnashing against the windows. Didn't seem like a #2. More of #3.

Despite the neurotic nature of sliding windows during rainy seasons (ask my officemate Pong, et al), our windows were cooperating and my next worry is the DLP High Rise. True enough, power was out and water intrusions were everywhere. I managed to send a few SMS despite being drowsy and realized that power in our household was also out. Which means water is dead. The kids were too sleepy to make a fuss out of a stuffy AC-less sleep. Alvin was also up by then, managed to find the flashlight, brought in a few lighted candles and checked the window panes from time to time. Later he would joke about how I slept the entire episode while everyone else was up and about.

By sunrise, it was calm and quiet but traces of Basyang's wrath is evident. The streets were paved with branches and leaves, our Palm trees were a out of axis and electricity and water are still a no-show. I had to go to the Plant a little early than usual to get a decent bath :-) My phone also kept on getting SMS here and there about various road conditions in the south and folks who were either stuck in heavy traffic, stuck at home or stuck clearing off water.

And so, I thought while ruminating all these, the Stormy Days had just begun.

Somewhere

Somewhere

It was a Friday afternoon and there I was with my teary-eyed friend, standing in front of the mirror by the ladies room. I gave her a consoling arm-over-her-shoulder hug. It was the most I can do knowing that I was part of her jigsaw-puzzle-of-grief that day. While I listen to her run down of week long frustrations, the well of tears started to fall all over again. In that moment I can feel like her chest is going to explode. I feel the weight of her burden. Like all is lost and no amount of consoling can make it better.
I was actually reading a paperback (of a feel good story) that night and for some eerie reason not connected to the book, the memories of that afternoon came back to me. I tried (while still focused on my reading) to think back what triggered it.

And then, in a perfect “eureka moment” I knew. It was the well of tears.

It jogged my subconscious. It made me look back.

So I asked myself (while still reading…), when was the last time I cried a tear over work-related frustrations anyway? Maybe next time I can tell my friend about it and exchange stories with her of how I survived it. Maybe it does not make your angst go away but it lessens the pain. Maybe it does not really make everything better at that point when your cauldron of emotions is boiling over but at least we’ll have an interesting topic to talk about over coffee.

And so my mind made a mental rewind as I approached chapter three of my book.

Well? It’s been quite a long, long while.

How so?

It is inevitable that we sometimes find ourselves in an emotionally gripping situation at work. As mature people, we have to face the music but there will also be unsolicited, unwanted spots of verbal-torture that can leave you feeling drained and useless.

When I am about to be overcome by such difficult, gripping moments, I realized that I can always go to this place somewhere inside me where no one can reach you. Where no words can hurt or has a power to tear you into shreds. Where I am invincible to pain, grief, sadness or disappointment. Somewhere. Where I can retreat so that I can come out whole and unscathed. And go on with life (in this case, work) as we know it.

I am glad there is Somewhere.

Postscript: And at this juncture, I closed the book and got up to find my laptop. My next blog entry was born. Thanks to you my friend, for the inspiration.

Kevin and Kyla in Working Mom

Kevin and Kyla's picture were featured in Working Mom's June 2010 issue (page 108 f you please)! Being the school opening month, June edition's Mommy Moments aptly titled "Me and My School Bag."

I happen to take pictures of the kids' first day to school. Every year. The picture I submitted was taken two years ago (Kyla in preschool). This was really special because it was Kevin and Kyla's first day together in the same school after many of Kevin attending home-based program. They gamely posed with their school bags beside them. Kyla was her usual cheerful self and was giving her Kuya an encouraging hug before the picture was taken.

Kevin's smooth inclusion in his new school is largely because of Kyla. Kyla's friends also call him "Kuya Boy" and also looks after him at school.

I am sure that someday we will once again look back at this picture full of happy, loving memories.

Sound of His Music (Father's Day Tribute for Dada)

Jessica Zafra puts it aptly that “we are all hostage to our parents’ taste in music.” I couldn’t agree more.

My dad (Dada) – if translated to my generation – is the ultimate groupie. He loves music and this is an understatement. Dada is up early with the radio already on and predictably, the radio puts him to sleep. We grew up with the music of the 60s-70s fossilized into our memories. I realized much later that I can actually sing to the songs of his generation. And that we knew most of the artists of his time.

Every year, DZRJ would hold this poll where listeners can call in and vote for their choice of the ultimate rock and roll king. Year on year it always boiled down to Elvis vs. Beatles. We would call in and vote for the Beatles just to annoy him. Besides, I love Beatles. Of course, there are Frank Sinatra, the Cascades and Everly Brothers, Paul Anka and Neil Sedaka, Petula Clark and Shirley Bassey, Tom Jones and Cliff Richard. Curiously, his favorite song was a country song called Frauline, on the account of which he would jack up the volume gazillion times until our earwax fell out!

He loved Elvis and we ended up with practically a collection of all his LP albums (ie, long playing records). Naturally, this meant he also had a complete line up of turn-table, stereo and amplifiers, speakers, the works! These are stored in a made to order wood cabinet which occupied a great deal of space in our apartment’s living room then in Cubao. When LPs became obsolete, the more compact radio and karaoke player replaced his stuff. In the early 90s, he donated his collection to a local radio station that plays the oldies but goodies music. I wish he hadn’t because they would be priceless by now. And one time, we even stayed late at night to watch the Elvis bio TV series “Elvis and Me”.

Every payday, I recall how he would excitedly bring home his newest LP collection of Elvis or Beatles. There was one song in Elvis’ Blue Hawaii album that made me cry in fear when I was about 5 years old and younger. It was the intro line from a violin. I would cry my lungs out when it played and so Dad had to run to the turntable every time and skip the blasted intro!

He also loved the Beatles. Their songs were immortal and fun to listen to. Their songs have a more universal taste and a sense of timelessness to it whereas Elvis’ songs, being rock and roll are more of “to the moment”. Yesterday and Ticket to Ride was one of the first songs I learned to sing in pre-school, as a matter of fact, my current ring tone for the past 7 years is indeed, Ticket to Ride.

And because he is a true blue music junkie, it rubbed off to us I guess. All of us grew up loving music and radio and although in time, all four of us developed our own preference, I couldn’t help but reminisce that it was Dad who taught us the gift of loving music.

He also understood that to love music meant parallel indulgences (like buying the latest record in town). In my generation, there were no CDs or MP3 downloads. Songs come in singles or LPs and cassette tapes. My Dad indulgently bought us tapes from the sprouting New Wave and 80s era. I think secretly he liked those music as well because it kept him young . I was surprised when he brought home audio cassette tapes of Bagets (no throwing of stones please), Menudo (again, we were young ok?), Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, Laura Branigan (he misestimated, none of us liked her), Michael Jackson, and others. We even collected Pepsi crowns to exchange them for limited edition glasses of 80s icon.

He drew the line finally in the mid-90s when Alternative Rock music was born and my younger sisters were into it. For us it sounded like a mass of tin cans waiting for annihilation at the junkyard. And that left the two of us stuck in the worm hole of 60s and 70s music. And for me, the 80s.

Lessons Kevin Taught Me (Kevin's 10th Birthday Tribute)

To everything there is a reason and a season for every purpose.
My husband and I were blessed with two wonderful kids—Kevin and Kyla. We love both of them very much and they have their own endearing ways. Before Kyla was born, Kevin had been the center of our lives. Kevin was not just any ordinary boy.

Kevin has a bionic-but-selective hearing. He can hear the very soft ‘click’ of the remote control from two rooms away. He knew if his Dad is walking by the hallway and if the car came by, even if we are 30 feet away. He likes the simple stuff like leaves, his lobster stuff toy and his little towels. Lately he started to appreciate playing cars and Transformer robots. His favorite is basketball and we discovered he has a skill for swimming. He is happiest when he is out swimming or splashing by the beach.

Kevin is a very sweet and loving boy. When I’m sad or sick, he would sit beside me and bring his face close to mine and smile or touch my forehead. Those were the few moments when our worlds are one and without boundaries.

I have always believed that Kevin was given to us for a reason that is greater than our own understanding. Most of all Kevin taught us valuable insights about life – simple things that we mostly tend to forget or take for granted.

1. The best things in life are free.

We live in a world where material possessions are highly valued upon vs. the traditional values. To be ‘cool’ and be part of the ‘in crowd’ nowadays meant kids with mobile phones, PSP hanging upon their neck (and sadly, pounding on them while inside the Church), having a Twitter account and stashed with an i-Pod. Kevin’s happiness comprise of swimming, riding the bike, strolling around the village with our pet Kimby, playing with his basketball and hanging out by the swing. I am glad he somehow started liking Hotwheels (thus, the avalanche of cars as gifts last Christmas) and some curiosity on Transformers but he will never trade up his favorite face towels and pillow!

2. A time for everything.

We were so used to having a time table for everything. A checklist. A milestone chart. Kevin defied all those chronicles and timetable. At times, we got worried that may be he would not be able to do the simple routine tasks that most children learn at the first 4 years of life—like eating solid food, using their utensils, writing their name. But Kevin did learn them, one small task at a time, in his on time. He learned to eat solid foods when he was 4 years old. He was never fond of anything too sweet and would rather have soups and a good meal of rice and chicken dish. He can finish 8 glasses a day and except for iced-tea and orange juice, Kevin never drank anything that is unhealthy. This is why he is blessed with strong teeth, clear and smooth skin. He learned to dance and sing, stand still for the flag ceremony and fall in line to wait for his turn. Speech is his biggest challenge but slowly but surely, he began learning to speak and express himself. He can now answer basic questions and has started to master writing his name. He did this despite the fact that the road to get there was not easy for him. When Kevin is at the Church, I know that he knew it is time for praying. I am proud of Kevin now being able to sit through the entire mass without distractions. He is now able to appreciate “study time” and “school time.”

But most importantly, he did it. In his own time. I must admit that coming to terms with his own term was not easy and took years to understand. I had to remind myself often, “in Kevin’s time and in His time”.

3. Putting things into perspective.

The biggest lesson that Kevin thought me is being able to put things into a new perspective. Kevin taught me that nothing much on earth can hurt that bad or stress us out like crazy. My LT once asked me, after getting some unsolicited flack from my earliest board reviews, why I don’t seem moved or didn’t go into tearful bouts, my answer was simple, “nothing will be worth a tear than Kevin.” Sure there are not-so-good days but life goes on and compared to the challenges Kevin goes through, who am I to complain? Complaining will be a waste of time. Kevin taught me, let’s just get on with it and move on.


Thank you Kevin, for 10 meaningful years!

Kyla's Time to Shine!

It was one proud moment no doubt, among countless of memories past and memories to be made.

Kyla was indeed every inch a star in her 1st Recital Concert last May 29, 2010 at the Southpick Resort Main Hall. This is their culminating activity from her Center for Pop Music Philippines voice and stage performance summer workshop.

For her solo performance, Kyla sang Demi Lovato’s “This is Me” (from the soundtrack of Camp Rock). I’m so happy to see Kyla taking center stage full of confidence and total love for singing. She also projected very well the choreography that she worked out with her vocal coach Ara.

She also had a production number with friends (“Umbrella” by Rihanna) and several other group production number with the recitalists.

Kyla loved singing and I thought that a workshop in CPMP will at least her help develop whatever talent she may have in singing. This is not her first time to sing on stage. During the U.N. Day Talent Night, she also sang Miley Cyrus’ The Climb.

It is definitely one summer that we will always remember! And we are proud of Kyla for being confident and bringing to life a great song!