they say the workspace is a reflection of your mind. here's mine...
need i say more?
need i say more?
i wonder what happened to my parents when i was born? somehow, in my recent efforts to assemble my childhood records, i'm beginning to suspect that they suddenly suffered from temporary loss of IQ upon the birth of their youngest child.
last saturday i went to san rafael church to get my baptismal certificate. the clerk at the records section found the names of my brother and sister -- but mine was nowhere to be found. i called my mother and verified her claim. "you're born in balut, tondo, anak, and baptized in san rafael." when i told her about my missing record, all she said was, "be patient, anak."
ok, so life is unfair, again. now i have to go to the three churches nearest san rafael, get certificates of no record (interesting... triangulation?), and bring them to the archbishop's office in intramuros so they can issue another certificate which will prompt san rafael to reconstruct my baptismal certificate.
the cause of all these woes is simple: my parents didn't double-check the spelling of my name when it was being typed in my birth certificate.
what, for the life of me, were they thinking then? playing around with fancy, complicated names ("oh i like this and that, and let's add this and that"), and then leaving my fate to a half-literate typist?
and come baptism day, my parents again left my fate to the wind -- not even bothering to check with the parish if my records were correct, or existent, for that matter.
"so what other requirements should i bring with me?"
"... that's about it. oh, you must bring a baptismal photo."
what the...
"... you do have a baptismal photo, don't you?"
"my first photo was taken when i was already two years old."
sigh!
indeed, one can learn a lot from their parents.
last saturday i went to san rafael church to get my baptismal certificate. the clerk at the records section found the names of my brother and sister -- but mine was nowhere to be found. i called my mother and verified her claim. "you're born in balut, tondo, anak, and baptized in san rafael." when i told her about my missing record, all she said was, "be patient, anak."
ok, so life is unfair, again. now i have to go to the three churches nearest san rafael, get certificates of no record (interesting... triangulation?), and bring them to the archbishop's office in intramuros so they can issue another certificate which will prompt san rafael to reconstruct my baptismal certificate.
the cause of all these woes is simple: my parents didn't double-check the spelling of my name when it was being typed in my birth certificate.
what, for the life of me, were they thinking then? playing around with fancy, complicated names ("oh i like this and that, and let's add this and that"), and then leaving my fate to a half-literate typist?
and come baptism day, my parents again left my fate to the wind -- not even bothering to check with the parish if my records were correct, or existent, for that matter.
"so what other requirements should i bring with me?"
"... that's about it. oh, you must bring a baptismal photo."
what the...
"... you do have a baptismal photo, don't you?"
"my first photo was taken when i was already two years old."
sigh!
indeed, one can learn a lot from their parents.
No comments:
Post a Comment