Vocation vs. Income

In my country, the school year is half over with, and we are taking a break from all the hum-ho of daily homework, research and pop quizzes. The countdown to Christmas has crystallized down to days, when before it was the weeks and the months.

While freshmen, my co-Sophomores, and Juniors are resting back on their couches and beds and enjoying the well-deserved two-week break, I'm sure one or two, or probably thirty, Senior High School students are itching their heads to the point of bleeding. And, no, they are not suffering from a bad case of dandruff. Up until now, many Seniors still do not have an idea as to what course they'll be taking up in college. A select few may have their crosshairs set firmly on a career of their choice already, many are still wandering and looking for a goal on which to set their sights.

The main reason not many fourth-year students have chosen a course to take up yet is the dilemma between vocation and income. In this fast-paced, man-eat-man world, there's no denying that money at least helps make the world go round. Yet this need for money can interfere with ambition.

Case in point? Arguably the most popular course in college nowadays (at least where I live) is Nursing, because of the myriad opportunities abroad that come with the package. But the thing is, not everyone is comfortable with seeing blood everyday nor having to inject a foot-long needle into a frail patient's arm. I actually know someone who was merely forced to take up Nursing by his parents, and if I know anything about cases like those, it was because Nursing brings in the big bucks.

So, it's your take: would you take up a course you love, or a course that would land you a decent job?

Vado Torva

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Guest Bloggers Needed

This blog is gathering dust. Dust we urgently need wiped off the counter. Sometimes, creativity runs at a low, so much so that the blogging world has decided to invent a magnificent way to keep those posts coming: GUEST BLOGGING.

It is a beautiful concept, much like David Letterman, Blogspot style. And this blog you're reading right now is in desperate need of a guest blogger. Do you think you can be that guest blogger we need? You must be:

• a good writer
• witty
• great at making up hypothetical situations
• creative
• willing to do this without any pay

Interested? Email ifyouwerethisguy@rock.com.

Hiatus

Blog traffic hasn't been extraordinary lately.

Wait, what blog traffic?

When before around six people came and visited daily, now, that number has dwindled down to zero. It's my fault - the creative well has run dry recently, and so many things are going on.

So, this blog is taking a hiatus indefinitely. I hope to be able to resume normal posting ASAP.

Thank you for your support.

-Phil


[p.s. greet me a happy bday on the 28th of October!]

Yo' wallet o' yo' phone?

Okay, I'm not going to deny it: one reason why the posts on IYWTG have been coming very slowly is because I rarely get sparks of brilliant ideas to post.

But today, I got a spark. And then, I got another spark just as I was typing this sentence. My last post was very tiring to read, so today I'm going to make it up to you by writing a shorter post.

Before reading this post, put yourself in a female character.

It is the dead of the night, and for some reason you find yourself walking home from work. Street lamps are too ridiculously far apart from each other to constantly light your path, and not a single house light is on.

You keep walking, humming your favorite Beyonce tune to while the time.

Out of the blue a grimy hand grabs you.

"Okay," you think to yourself, "this is it. Some wacko unwanted element of society has chosen me as prey."

"Okay," says the hobo, "I'm gonna go easy on 'ya. Now I'd nomally rob 'ya of everythang you got in there, but I'm gonna letcha choose."

Wow, you murmur in your head. This is a relatively kind unwanted element of society!

"Do ya want me to rob yo' wallet o' yo' phone?" the snatcher asks.

You're lucky. You're not getting stabbed, plus the evil dude is only going to take one thing from you, and he's letting you decide what you're going to give him. Take note, though, that you've noticed he has a knife tucked into his shorts. Do you give your wallet or your mobile phone?

One Decision

It's been so long since Dwight last updated this blog. I can't blame him, I can't blame me - we're both busy fellows (to see what's happening with my life, visit www.vado-torva.blogspot.com).

One decision can change your life forever, or it can change every single corner of the universe as we know it. Read on, this is a pretty long post.

Get into character - as the president of the world. The year 2084, and the nations of the world, in an effort to forever quell international disputes, have united to form one single nation called the world. The leaders of state of each nation have convened in the world's capital city, Peace Point, to elect the leader of the newly-formed state.

The convention is declared a success, that a new leader of the world has been elected by unanimous decision. But it is decided to keep him faceless, unknown. The only marks of his leadership will be the decisions he (or she) makes.

And so we have a president of the world, disembodied but damn powerful nonetheless.


Fast forward twenty-six months later, when the two hundred ten-member World Senate has passed fifty new laws and the five hundred-member World Congress has helped build a new world. The skyscrapers of Peace Point scrape the sky - the tallest being the government center, New Babel Building.

You're in a suburban home just outside of Peace Point, which by the way lies in an enormous artifical island. You pick up the newspaper on your doorstep, and you're greeted by a surprising frontpage headline:

"PRESIDENT FALLS ILL"
President of the world rushed to infirmary; world temporarily leaderless

Just then, the phone rings. You rush to the living room and pick it up.

"Is this the home of [your name here]?" the female voice asks.
"This is me. May I help you?"
"I'm Jane Doe, public affairs spokesperson for the Office of the President. Have you read today's news?"
"Yeah. What's with the faceless president?"
"He's sick, in his private infirmary. Further details cannot be disclosed."
"What do you want from me?"
"The National Name Database contains seventy-eight billion names. The president said to install a temporary leader in his absence, a RANDOM person. So, I accessed the database and set a randomized selection process, telling the servers to only provide me with a random person between 18 and 60 years old.
Interesting, huh? Seventy-seven billion, nine hundred ninety-nine million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine other names were not selected. Instead, you were."
A moment of silence passes. "Yeah, right. Go fool someone else."
"In this time of adversity, do you really think there is time to joke around? I am serious. Come to the New Babel NOW." the line goes dead.

So you jump into your 2086 Picanto and gun the engine. The Picanto hovers fifty feet in the air, and you set autopilot to the New Babel. In ten seconds flat you're transported thirty miles away to the New Babel's parking pad. You head straight for the office of the spokesperson.

You enter the lavish office, where on an oak wood table on the far end there is a woman sitting. "Are you Jane Doe?" you ask.

She stands up, not bothering to answer your question. "You're [your name here]. Sit down."
You take a seat on a divan in front of the table. "You really aren't kidding."
"You're high above the clouds, sitting on a divan inside the Office of the Spokesperson of the President. Now, we have no choice but to install you as temporary leader, as the president demands."
You don't object, and she administers three oaths. After it is done, she declares, "you are the temporary leader."
"Alright, get me to my office! Let's start!" you say, excitedly.
"Hold on. Did I forget to mention? The president said you only get to make one decision, after which your term as temporary leader ends."
"ONE DECISION ONLY?"
"Yes."

Here it is. If you had the power to make one decision as temporary president of the entire world, what would it be?

Would You Rather...?

I just bought a game by this name for my son. There's only one rule: you have to choose among the choices given. Perhaps, it'd be be fun to pose and ponder a few scenarios here. So, think about it. Would you rather...

A) ...have a superhero power? If so, what power? Remember the 'hero' part, not just the 'super' part. I played this with my son and knowing a particular situation helped. Describe the situation in which the power would be, well, powerful.

B) ...be a religious leader? If so, what religion, which can be made up, and what would your religion teach or do? How would you inspire others, or would you bother? How would you deal with criticism about your religion?

C) ...be an explorer? If so, what would you explore? Would you prefer to explore alone or with a team? What equipment and/or talents (human, of course) would you require? What would be your motivation to keep going?

D) ...have an obscene amount of money, but no friends? And, yes, the old adage is true - you can't buy friends. What would be the cause of your not having friends? Would not having friends enable you to do things you couldn't do otherwise, like travel and mingle with different cultures?

Oh! By the way - this is going to be a growing blog. How? Well, after answering the above questions, post your own "Would you rather...?" scenario. Then, post another comment to answer a scenario in the comments of others.

A call from the president

Whew... it's been a while since this blog was last updated. Anyway, I'm here, so let's get going!

Picture yourself as a sixty-something businessman who owns a small estate in an undisclosed location in Europe. You are sleeping well in your elegant bed when your state-of-the-art telephone suddenly rings.

You get up, still half-asleep. Your gold-lined bedside clock reads 11.30 PM, United States Time (you're from the United States... you want a little piece of home to always be with you).

Turning on the lamp designed especially for you by the world's greatest artists, you pick up the phone.

"Hello, is this [insert name here]?" a familiar voice asks.
"Yeah, it's me," you reply, still trying to figure out who the voice is. "Your voice sounds really familiar. Who are you?"
"I'm the President of the United States!" he says, in a whisper.

Then you suddenly remember. In the past few weeks the United States had been all over CNN, Fox, and other news networks. Russia and its allies have declared success in designing and building an ultimately destructive bomb that can destroy the whole United States and part of Canada. They further stated that if their demands, which were already communicated to the White House, would not be met in three months they would drop the bomb - literally - in the geographical center of the United States, destroying the world superpower.

The White House had expressed their doubts. On their website, they had said, "imagine a bomb that could destroy the whole United States. Is that really possible? If we, the world superpower, cannot build any weapon of such magnitude, then who can?"

The president continues talking. "Anyway, [insert name here], I need your advice. You're a businessman and great thinker. Now, no-one outside of my cabinet knows what Russia's demand is, but I'm going to tell you. They want us to declare ourselves a Russian state, then they'll destroy our economy, and re-award independence! It's crazy, wacko!

"Now, I can't say I ain't afraid of the bomb-destroying-the-United-States thing, but I'm not entirely convinced. I'm calling you to ask your advice. I'll follow whatever you say, 'coz I trust you more than my whole friggin' cabinet. I've heard what you've done with your business empire. So, what do you say?"

It's your time to decide.

Do you tell him to submit to Russia's authority, or do you tell him to 'stop with all this crap! It's obviously a fake, pointless scare tactic!'?

OR, do you tell him to ask someone else for advice - this is too big of a deal for you to call?

p.s. This is all fake! There is no such crisis going on!

Masculine Marital Mentoring

Now let's get the man's POV. (But women are welcome to chime in.) A friend of mine sought advice from other men about his marriage. Exactly - Yikes! I knew it was trouble right away. It's almost like answering the dreaded question from your wife, "Does this dress make me look fat?" Here's the scenario...

Friend: "I can't go to the game with you tonight. Sorry, pal."

You: "Why not? Everything alright? You sound depressed, man."

Friend: "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just that I went out with some guys after work yesterday 'cause a guy from our office was leaving. And, well, my wife doesn't want me going out two nights in a row."

You: (Uh oh. You get a sense that you know where this is going, so you try to cover the bases.) "Well, I guess I could understand if it was spontaneous. Especially if she had other plans, like a nice quiet evening with you."

Friend: "Oh no. She knew about the work outing weeks ago. I forgot to tell her until recently about the game, though. We didn't really have anything planned. She thinks that I already spend too much time out of the house doing my own thing."

You: "Hmph."

Friend: "She said she spoke to a couple of her friends and asked them how often I should have a night to myself to do whatever I want, like go to a game or jazz club with friends, and they said once or twice a month."

You: "Wow!" (Unable to restrain the disbelief at the small number.) "I would think [rate of outings omitted] would be good for both of you. How often do you stay home so she can get a night out?"

Friend: "That's just it. She doesn't really have any interests in going out. She'd rather stay at home and watch TV or read or talk. I have a lot of interests, though - sporting events, getting together with friends, book clubs, local concerts. I have things I want to do. What do you think is a reasonable number of nights in a week or a month to do those things?"

That was it: the dreaded question. Now, you're smack in the middle. However, unlike sitting in front of your friend who you fear is going to go back to his wife and say, "so-and-so said x number of times is healthy," for which you'd immediately end up on her 'most unwanted' list, this blog is a safe place to answer it honestly.

Would you go to the game anyway? What would you say? How would you answer the question your friend asked? How often should spouses pursue their own interests? (Hint: your answer doesn't have to be a number.)

A Bad Hair Day... of all days!

Hey, it's me, Phil.

Alright, let's set you up on the situation for the day, and let's tackle it from a female POV.

Finally, your best friend is getting married, and you have been chosen as a bridesmaid. Of course you have to look pretty and all (you'll never know - your future groom may be amongst the crowd in attendance), so you get your hair styled by a close friend.

During the hairstyling process, she asks you not to look at the mirror (she wants it to be a "surprise"). After two hours of painstaking hairstyling, she gives you the go-ahead to check yourself out.

Indeed, you are surprised, but not in a good way - your hairstyle isn't the "hot, hot, hot" effect your hairstylist friend described, but rather the "just woke up" disaster.

Things get worse. According to your beautiful silver watch, there's only one and a half hour left before the wedding starts.

Do you head for the wedding and hope they don't think it's that bad, or do you head for the parlor and hope your situation can be fixed in less than 1 and 1/2 hours? Or, worst of all, do you decide to ditch the wedding altogether?

A New You

Ever get tired of the same ol' routine? School? Work? Chores? Cooking? Laundry? Traffic? Weather? Your basic human condition?

Calvin (from Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson) invented a machine called a 'transmogrifier'. It was actually just a large cardboard box. But he pretended it could create instant clones. Of course, he'd tell his clone to go to school so he could stay outside and play, or blame his clone for breaking a lamp, etc.

Let's say you came across this machine and read the scribbled instructions written in crayon on the side. It simply said, "Enter Here, Wait 2 Seconds, Exit. Retrieve Clone from Other Side." Not only that, but there was no limit to the number of clones you could make.

How many clones would you make? What would you make your clone(s) do? What would you do in the meantime?

Memory versus Work

It's a Monday like any other Monday and you're off to work. You feel like you're somewhat in a haze after a great weekend. You're waiting for the subway train that will get you to work on time. Your body is on the subway platform, but your mind is still thinking about Saturday night. "Finally," you think, "I'm going to be on time to work on a Monday. My boss will be happy to see me."

You casually glance around at the crowd. Your eyes notice a little girl in worn clothes, about 10 years old. She catches your attention because doesn't seem to fit among the professionally dressed commuters, so you look again. She's with a man who seems preoccupied, anxious for the train on the other side of the subway platform to arrive.

Just as you hear the sound of an approaching train, you get a glimpse of the girl's face. She's looks more numb than sad but a little of both, and she's slightly dirty. You shake your head to clear the fuzz and suddenly you remember. She looks like the girl you saw on the postcard you recently put into the recycling bin. It had a computer-aged drawing of the girl who had been missing for two years. However, it was months ago that you saw the postcard, it was fuzzy and black and white, and you only looked at the picture for a few seconds.

Your instant reaction is to doubt yourself and turn to the stranger next to you. You quietly say, "Hey!" pointing your finger while holding your arm close to your body, "isn't that the girl who was reported missing a couple years ago?"

He looks at her then looks back at you. He slowly shakes his head and smirks like you're some kind of lunatic who is habitually late to work for dumb reasons (he's half right). He turns and prepares to board the train. The train, your train, the one that will get you to work on time, pulls up to the platform.

Now comes the crucial moment. You either get on your train or you don't. Which is it and what do you do next?

Bus Mugger

Your Picanto is at the shop, so you have to take the bus (The Picanto has become IYWTG's resident vehicle). Lucky for you, the bus stop is just down the block from your house.

You sit around for about three minutes then the bus comes. You get in and take your seat (no senior citizens, so you don't have to worry about having to stand up). You're just looking around, minding nothing in particular.

That is, until you see a particularly weird-acting fellow. Then, you notice one of his hands is inside the pocket of a young lady next to him. The woman isn't noticing anything, and the man isn't noticing you noticing him (tee-hee).

The man could be armed, and he's obviously stealthily mugging the woman next to him. It might be her cell phone or her wallet, or something else important. So, what do you do?

Cheating on his hubby

You're at the bar with a couple of friends (you're all married). You've had a few beers, but you're still sober.

Sometime later, your friend Gary calls someone on his phone, telling him/her to come over to the bar.

Fifteen minutes later, a gorgeous young woman walks into the bar, looks over to your gang, and says, "hey, baby," apparently looking to Gary.

"Gary," you ask, "who the heck is that?"

"She's Cristina, my girlfriend!"

Holy Crap. He's cheating on his wife, a good friend of yours.

"Gary? YOU'RE CHEATING ON ANNA??"

"Oh, c'mon, man. Let me have my fun."

You're about to storm out of there and tell his wife, but you remember a favor Gary did for you two years ago.

You had, on one day, left home wearing your usual office attire so your wife would think you were going to work. You actually spent one whole day in your pal's backyard, drinking beer. You started drinking at ten in the morning and stopped at four, so that by the time you hit the road, you'd be sober again. Gary had never told on you.

So, do you tell his wife or not?

At the Parking Lot

Yesterday, you were at the parking lot in the middle of the night. Now, you're back! It's ten o'clock in the morning and the mall's parking lot is already packed.

You begin your long, arduous search for a parking space, and after ten minutes it is over. You find one beside a cute Bug (Volkswagen Beetle).

You open the glove box and reach for your iPod. Then you fix yourself up a bit and kill the engine. You open the door, and then [THUD].

Uh-oh. You hit the Bug!Immediately you recognize a nasty scratch. You look around. The parking lot's deserted!

So, do you leave a note with your name and number [or something like that] or do you sprint and hope you leave the mall before the Beetle's owner does?

Try Improving Your World!

Hi! I'm just cutting into the posts to announce my new blog to the world.

I used to maintain four different blogs, but now I'm down to two - this one, and Improve your World. The latter is my newer blog, and is somewhat like this one. I hope and think you'll like and enjoy it, so please do visit it!

And, by the way, I'm looking for someone to help maintain this blog. See the text just below the header for more info.

-Phil

Carjacker

For a change, let's have this situation from a woman's POV {point of view}.

After one whole day of shopping, you carry all your newly-bought shirts and pants to your car that's waiting in the middle of the local mall's vast parking lot. By now it's 9.00 PM, and only a few cars are left on the parking lot.

As you make your way towards your parking lot, which is only illuminated by lamp posts placed a few yards apart, you catch a shadow. It's... oh, crap.. it can't be...

It is. It's a carjacker. He's prying open a Hummer.

Then, something worse happens. He sees you looking at him and his sinister deed. "Look, lady," he says, "you better get to your car and leave the hell outta here. I have a gun." [But he doesn't show you a gun.]

You look around. There's a security guard about a hundred meters back. You could hurry to your Picanto and leave the lot like a scolded cat, or you could help the poor owner of the Hummer being carjacked. You could run to the security guard, since you're wearing comfortable {but still stylishly hip} sneakers.

If you were this lady [remember? Female POV], would you run as fast as you can towards the security guard to report the crook, or run the other way towards your car and leave the place?

New Identity

Let's say you're in the backyard, playing with your dog, Snuffles.

He goes inside to grab some food - er, dog food. So you're left alone in the backyard.

Suddenly a fairy appears. "Why, who are you?" you ask her.


"I am an angel from the fuutuuure!" she replies. "Nah, just kidding. I'm a fairy!"

"Oh."

"Yeah, well, I'm here to give you a gift."

"A gift from who?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. Anyway, here's the offer: I'm gonna give you a new identity."

"No strings attached? You're not like that genie I met at the beach the other day, right?"

"ABSOLUTELY NO STRINGS ATTACHED. Alright. Here's the dilly-o. For your new identity, you get to choose if you want to be:

• The President of the United States
• The Prime Minister of Great Britain
• The Chief of Staff of the USAF (United States Armed Forces)
• The Pope of the Catholic Church
• Hollywood's biggest star (You're so big, the HOLLYWOOD sign has been replaced with your name)

So, who do you wanna be? Make it quick, kid. I have another appointment."

"Uhm, this is a hard choice to make... can I use my 'call a friend' opportunity?"

"Well, we aren't on Who Wants to be a Millionaire, but fine. Make it quick."

So, you make the call. If given the opportunity to change your identity, would you be

• The President of the United States
• The Prime Minister of Great Britain
• The Chief of Staff of the USAF (United States Armed Forces)
• The Pope of the Catholic Church
• Hollywood's biggest star

or would you rather remain who you are?

IYWTG email address!

Hi. Thanks for visiting my blog. I'm disturbing the tranquility of "If you were This Guy" again to bring you great news.

Now, you can email me about any comments and/or suggestions regarding this blog! I didn't want to provide my personal email address for security reasons, so instead I created an email address that's dedicated to If you were This Guy. Starting now, you can send emails regarding this blog to the following email address:

ifyouwerethisguy@rock.com


Do you have any pals/email buddies whom you think would like If you Were This Guy? To put our new email address to good use, please email to me anyone you know who may be a prospective frequent visitor to this blog. BE ASSURED THAT I WILL NOT USE THE EMAIL ADDRESSES YOU PROVIDE FOR PERSONAL USE OR GAIN. I'd never do that to someone special to me.

I used email provider Rock.com for the email address. As always, thanks for visiting IYWTG. Please keep on visiting and continue your support.


-Phil

Would you 'help' the 'stranded' man?

You decided to visit your parents on the farm you grew up on. You had left your inner city home at eight o'clock that morning, and after two hours of driving through sleepy country road you arrive at the farm.

Spending the whole day around the farm, reminiscing your childhood, you felt like you were seven again, chasing the chickens and pissing off mom. Your parents served up your favorite food when you were young, stirring up more memories.

That afternoon you sat down with Momma and Poppa on the porch and just talked about things that came to mind. You took a short nap in your room, which was bare except for your bed and a poster of something you cannot recall.

That evening Momma served up a stew that you frankly did not like, but as a child pretended to love. You still did the same that night, just so you wouldn't hurt momma's feelings, as well as her cooking pride.

The time is now ten o'clock, and you have to hit the road lest you reach home an hour too late and miss work the next day. You bid goodbye to Mom and Dad, grab your keys, and head for home.



By now the dusty country road is deserted, and your headlights illuminating the path makes the scene eerie. You pop your favorite band's cassette into your car's cassette player and turn up the air conditioning.

Fifteen minutes later you see a car with its hood popped open, a man inspecting the engine with a torchlight . The car has probably broken down - what else would it be doing in the middle of a dark, deserted country road at this time? You slow down a bit, thinking to help the poor man. Then you remember what your mom had mentioned earlier that day.

[That afternoon, on the porch]
You (U): You're safe in here, right?
Mom (M): Yeah, we haven't been stabbed yet... oh, by the way, I was listening to the radio the other day, and I heard there was a serial killer on the loose. They say he was last spotted in town a few weeks ago. It's still speculation, though, just a few gossips from what I've heard.
U: Really?
M: Yeah... It is just speculation, so I'm not so sure...

[Back to the present]
You suddenly remember that the sleepy town your mom said the serial killer was last spotted in was just a mile or two away. You swallow hard. What if this is the serial killer?

By now you see the man trying to pull you over. Thoughts race through your head as you slow down. Mom did say it was just speculation, right? But what if it isn't? What if this is actually the serial killer??

By now your pants are wet. So, would you pull over to 'help' the 'stranded' man, or speed away into the night?