How to Convert Units of Measurement

Converting units to other units can be a tough ordeal for some elementary and high school students. Even I struggled with the concept when I was studying for my elementary examinations. It was only during high school physics that I've known about the simple way of converting. As you know, physics can be very confusing in terms of units like kgxm/s^2. Hence, I am sharing them to you now to save you of my year-long quandary with unit conversion.

First things first! You MUST MEMORIZE the conversion factors. There's no way we can dispute this step.

Memorizing the conversion factors is essential if you are to convert imperial to metric or vice versa. For example, you want to convert 5 feet 6 inches (imperial) to centimeters (metric). We'll tackle metric system later, it's easier.

We know that 1 foot = 12 inches, and 1 inch = 25.44 millimeters. We need these conversion factors for our problem.

Now, this is our flow: feet-inches > inches > millimeters

5 feet 6 inches has two units. You need to focus on the foot unit first, then just add the second unit later.

               12 inches
 5 feet x  --------------  =  60 inches
                  1 foot    

How did we get inches as the unit of the answer? Simply because in the left side of the equation, the foot units are cancelled out. Actually, it will be you to decide what the numerator and the denominator will be.  If a numerator (in the above case, it's 5 feet, with a default denominator of 1) has a similar term on the denominator, you can cancel them out. In our case, the similar terms are "feet" or "foot."

Another example. You want to convert 72 inches to feet.

                     
72 inches  x   -------------


You know the conversion factor:  1 foot = 12 inches. So since we're dealing with inches as the numerator (72 inches), the denominator of the next item should also be in inches (12 inches).

                     1 foot
72 inches x --------------    =
                   12 inches

The "inches" are cancelled out. The remaining symbols indicate division. And the remaining unit is foot. The answer is 6 feet.

Going back to our previous problem, 5 feet 8 inches = 60 inches + 6 inches = 66 inches.

Since 1 inch = 25.44 mm, then:

                 25.44 mm
66 inches x ------------ =  1679.04 mm
                    1 inch

Let's take it a little further. In converting metric values, you first have to understand the metric conversion table. For the unit of length, the standard value is METER. Any thing longer than a standard value is designated with a Greek prefix. Anything shorter has Latin prefixes. You'll see:

1 meter = 1000000 MICRO meter (um)
1 meter = 1000 MILLI meter (mm)
1 meter = 100 CENTI meter (cm)
1 meter = 10 DECI meter (dm)

10 meters = 1 DEKA meter (dam)
100 meters = 1 HEKTO meter (hm)
1000 meters = 1 KILO meter (km)
1000000 meters = 1 MEGA meter (Mm)

Let's convert 1679.04 mm to kilometer(km), taking note of the placement of numerators and denominators.

                         1 meter             1 kilometer
1679.04 mm x  ----------------- x -----------------  = 0.001679 kilometer
                         1000 mm           1000 meters

Just multiply all values in the numerator, and divide them with all values in the denominator. Cancel out the units until 1 unit is left.

Last example. Convert 12345 feet to kilometer

You have to check your resources and enumerate your conversion factors first. Then our flow would be: feet > inches > centimeters > meters > kilometers

                      12 inches            25.44 mm                1 meter              1 kilometer
12345 feet x ----------------  x ------------------- x ---------------------- x -------------------  =
                      1 foot                   1 inch                   1000 mm               1000 meter


                                                                           3768681.6
= 12345 x 12 x 25.44 / 1000 / 1000 kilometers =  ---------------------- = 3.7686816 km
                                                                             1000000

A Dream that Pepeng Fulfilled

She was running fast – there were falling rocks and everyone was shouting. As the rain poured fiercely on her, she could see her house rapidly sinking beneath the sudden flow of mud coming from a mountain. In the pitch black night, she tried to call for help, but the loudness of the raging mud flow muted her. In an instant, it reached her, burying her beneath the horrid piles of mud, rocks and dead bodies… she could not breathe… she was sure she was dying…

And then she woke up.

Aling Dolores would never forget the night she dreamed of that nightmare. She was soaked with sweat on her bed, being thankful that it was just a bad dream. But never had she thought that one year later, on the night of October 8, 2009, this fateful dream of hers would come true.

This is the story of Aling Dolores’ survival from the tragic incident that struck the humble village of Little Kibungan in Puguis, La Trinidad, Benguet.


No Tears
We found her sitting at a corner of what used to be the classroom of Grade 3 students in Puguis Elementary School. Together with more than 100 evacuees, she sought refuge in this school hoping to ease her from the gloomy landslide that raked everything she had. At 52, her wrinkles and gray hair proved to be testament to her battles in life. She seemed grief-stricken and puzzled for her great loss; but somehow she still managed to smile to everyone inside this makeshift camp.

Around her, people were chanting hymns… the atmosphere bearing a heavy mode of grief… In front her were the five plywood coffins of her daughter, her son-in-law, and her three little grandchildren who all died during that rainy evening. This classroom was a temporary funeral home.

Aling Dolores had not yet shed a single tear since the incident. Yet, a grave feeling of emptiness blanketed her being… an unfamiliar rope that strangled her breathing.

As the singing grew louder, Dolores courageously set off to revisit the night she cheated death.

Last Supper
“Sabali ti ulimek ken lamminna idi rabii (The silence and coldness of the night was different),” she said in a sinister tone. Typhoon Pepeng had already taken its toll on many parts of Northern Luzon. Some of her neighbors had just gone to Puguis Elementary School in hopes of a safer shelter. Amidst shrieking winds and jostling mud, she and six other relatives chose to share a meal’s bounty inside her house situated along a steep mountain crevice. Her daughter Jane, along with her husband Antonio and three children, feasted on their supper at a cabin just below Aling Dolores’ place. They stuffed themselves with adobo, and that was enough to send Jane and the four to a good night’s sleep.

Dolores seated cozily in her kitchen as the candlelight flickered on the table. A power outage had plunged their village in utter darkness. She was repeatedly lighting the candle, for the winds outside were putting it out. This could be an omen, she thought.

She dismissed her gut feel and tried to think of other things. Ah, it was indeed a relief to have finally paid this lot where their house stood. Just recently, a loaning firm had lent Jane with Php 15,000.00. They were then ready to hire a lawyer to grant them a title for their lot. “Pagtulung-tulungantayo nga mabayadan, Inang (We’ll work together to pay [the loan], Mom),” Jane had said to her mother.

A sudden gush of chilling wind entered her kitchen and caught her. The candle flickered and soon Dolores plunged into the dark. She lighted it again. Dolores was about to resume her seat when a terrible sense of foreboding enveloped her…

It was 10:30 p.m. This was the night. Her one-year-old nightmare would finally resurrect.

“Flashback”
A deafening roar erupted from outside her house. Thunder, she thought, stunned. But no lightning preceded it. As the noise grew violently louder, the floor beneath her feet started trembling. Earthquake! She hurriedly rushed outside and almost slipped – the ground was painted with mud. She was halted by what she saw.

A raging river of mud had appeared in front of her. Blocks of wood and cement twisted viciously, destroying everything in their path. Despite the darkness, she could see how the mud flow swept the entire slope like the hands of a ferocious giant. She screamed her lungs out… it was useless… people were already shouting and running for their lives. The sight almost paralyzed her from where she stood. Her nightmare…

Something hit her from her side, and she stumbled to the mud just to find it was one of his sons who bumped into her. He was scurrying towards the treacherous mud flow. An unbearable wave of dread brushed her… she wanted to stop Martin from going any nearer… What in the name of God was he doing?

Alas! Her maternal instinct suddenly possessed her. In between slippery mud and heavy rain, she plowed her way to where Martin was directed. Jane and her family were in serious danger. She stumbled three times, bruising her ankles and elbow. She kept running. She could hear Martin shouting inside Jane’s cabin. She looked at the direction of the sound… then a cold shiver crawled up her spine – Jane’s house was already half-submerged in yellow-brown mud flow!

She could not think clearly. Her mind raced whether to brave the mud to save them or to stay calm  and wait. Confusion got the best of her when the mud flow gripped her naked feet. Instantly, someone rushed and pulled her to higher ground. It was Martin. By impulse, she searched Martin’s side for signs of Jane’s kindred, but there were none. Then his son hurriedly ran towards her own house. She thought she would go crazy that very instant. Then… she heard an agonizing scream… it was coming from Jane’s cabin… “Uncle! Partakam! Kayat ko pay mabiag! (Hurry up, Uncle. I still want to live!)” Anthony! He’s alive, Dolores thought. She scampered across the tumultuous mud river to save his poor grandson. She could not afford to lose one; she had dreams for this child...

For the second time, Martin pulled her back. He was back with his brother Marvin alongside him. He had a long hose and a knife in his hands. In a swift mode, he forcibly swam across the heightening mud river and in to Jane’s house. Anthony must breathe.

Twisted Nightmare
Aling Dolores never thought nor dreamed of this. In her nightmare, it was she who died. But to what happened she had prepared no reaction. No teardrop would come out, no weeping. She just sat there on a chair in her kitchen.

It was 2 a.m. of October 9. Her four sons alternated doing CPR to Jane, Antonio, Jeanson, Aj-ann and even Anthony but to no avail. It had already been three hours since they managed to “rescue” them – the bodies unusually heavy with water and covered in mud. Dolores could do nothing but to stare at them – lips black and blue all over. They waited until sunrise, hoping that at one magical instant, life would spring back.

It never did.

Outside, the mud flow had receded, along with Jane's family's dreams, too. Fate, Dolores said, was mischievous.

Lamentations
The landslide left them and some 40 families homeless, forcing them to reside at the evacuation site in Puguis Elementary. Though her own house still stood, it suffered irreversible damage. Aling Dolores could not help but ride with the current of change that had mercilessly swept her entire village.

“Nakalipat tayo ken Apo Dios (We have forsaken God),’ she said in reverie. “Ngem agsala-sala toy panunot ko nga apay nangyari daytoy kenniami (But I kept thinking why this happened to us).” In previous years, she had since been a member of a Catholic league praying for the healing of the sick. “Agil-ilot kami pay ti adda saksakitna (We even treat the sick).” Only until then had she realized it was they who needed their prayers. “Ania ti nagkamaliak? (Where did I go wrong?)”

Of all the dreams she ached to fulfill for her family, why her nightmare? She had dreamed of her grandchildren studying on a private school, her daughter Jane landing a good job. She had dreamt simple dreams, like having a picnic with her kin, and drinking Benguet coffee with them during sunrise.

But there she was – drinking dole-out instant coffee in an evacuation site, at her daughter Jean’s wake.

She could not rid off such loneliness. All her dreams for them… gone… buried in mud… left in that instant graveyard of lost dreams.  She surmised how stealthily death could come upon one’s sleep. “Awan naaramidanda (They were unable to do anything).” Anthony’s final beg for survival still haunted her. She could have done something… to hide that mosquito net the day before the landslide. If only she knew it might tangle him on his bed, pinning him to his drowning end… Martin’s knife could not cut the net, and the long hose failed to come on time. The mud had swallowed him fast. If only she had not given them the meat for their adobo...

Indeed, regrets come last.

In Memoriam
She may be lucky to survive. But the loss it brought her was as painful as death itself. For her, it was hard to live when all else had died. “Dakkel ti nabawas. Kanayon mo nga biruken isuda, kasla adda mapukpukaw (A lot has changed.You constantly look for them, like something is missing),” her voice finally broke and her eyes wet with mellow tears.

She knew she would miss how Jeanson bullied her till she got mad, how Aj-ann used to ask her to comb her hair, how Anthony and Antonio helped her with their chores, and how Jane promised her of better living. It was undeniably painful to accept this fate, this tragedy that tested her... as a mother… as a human.

But despite all that had happened, Dolores was thankful to all the volunteers and friends who earnestly offered themselves to them. In times of need, she had known how it felt to gain compassion upon losing a beloved. Love, she said in Ilocano, is after all a universal thing.

Typhoon Pepeng had undeniably left Northern Luzon with a landslide of why’s. But the biggest question asked by all those affected remains unchanged: How do they begin?

Her nightmare has become a tragic part of Cordilleran history. It has claimed the lives of 81 residents, the highest death toll among the more than 50 landslides that scourged the Cordilleras. To date, there has been more than 340 confirmed casualties and almost 800 million worth of agricultural, infrastructure and economic damages all over the region – almost close to the 1990 earthquake. It has paralyzed Baguio City, fending the four major road networks impassable to vehicles for one week. The gravity of Baguio’s cripple plunged the city into the national limelight. Dolores’ nightmare was a hit.

A Single Piece

Everything is temporary, Dolores said. Everything that the eyes can see will expire, even life itself. How soon? She does not know. “Ni Apo Dios laeng ti makaammo. Isuna met ti nangited ti biagtayo (Only God knows. After all, it was He who gave life to us),” she said while looking at the remains of little Aj-ann, her sweet one-year-old granddaughter.

Though the mountains and its people may forget all these in time, the bitter-sweet aftermath of the calamity would forever nestle in her mind.

Aling Dolores is just one among the many pieces that make up this infamous jigsaw puzzle that Typhoon Pepeng laid upon us. In the end, when the puzzle is completed, only then can we decipher if the whole thing is an image of hope – or despair.

After You were Mine

I wondered what happened

after  you were mine.

but. no.

not mine

not as shrewd as belonging, not as finite as possession –

rather I

borrowed you, for a while,

but

less like a replacement for some faulty appliance,

more like a treasured acquisition – a tome,

housed in a library somewhere I’ll never visit but might think of

on some idle morning as the kettle boils and

letters drop forlornly to the mat

and I catch myself … sometimes … I’m

thinking – on a rainy weekend or a broken Tuesday

which seems fit for little else –

wondering where you are, and who’s borrowed you now

who’s inhaling the scent of your pages and adding a sentence or two.

in a cursive script,

much neater than mine.

I remember the shape of you, sketch the illustration, but blur the edges

imagine a Technicolor version, where there was really

a limited palate

as limited as my own

at that time.

but we painted each other in primary tones,

stuck to the lines

caring nothing for the shades and the scribbles that would follow with time

and with age.

I kept you intact, for a while,

painstakingly guarding your covers then

passed you on

a good sport

to someone else, who could decipher your wisdom,

a specialist in text I couldn’t read any more

after you were mine,

I wondered.

who you’d lent yourself to

and hoped his hands were clean

-   Stuart Crowther

(April 2005)

This poem is very special for me. I just happened to stumble upon this poem while researching short films about the gay community, which I was intending to make a short film about. I ended up watching the video below and repeatedly playing the end part where the poem was.

Challenging God

(I didn't know what came into me. But I felt the intense urge to write this, like the urge to get intimate with somebody, if you know what I mean.)

I have always believed something is lacking in the practice of the Eucharistic Celebration or Mass. Being a hardcore Catholic student from Kindergarten to college, I was mandated to believe that going to Church every Sunday was a must. That I had thought until 6 years ago.

I knew what most of the things done in Church meant. I knew the two parts of the Mass, the symbolism of the raising of chalice and the opening of the tabernacle and things like that. I used to be a sacristan, and I got to read First and Second Reading. To be honest though, I had been unable to fully appreciate attending this repetitive Mass ritual. I tried many times, but I just couldn't fool myself into believing that I felt God during Mass. I began to think something was wrong with me. I kept thinking that I might have been a victim of evil.

Back in high school, I dragged my self to attend mass mainly because of five things:
1) I had to play the Church organ every Friday morning for the Daily Mass for my batch
2) I had to find a teacher during Sunday Mass to sign my index card for my Values Education grade
3) I had to accompany my mom, especially after Mass when we had to go straight to the public market
4) The church was our meeting place for an occasion or a school practice.
5) I had pretty much nothing to do.




You see, most Christians like me were spoon-fed with concepts of religion. It's like the brainwash type of thing, and all you have to do was to accept every belief that was presented to you. To be critical about these beliefs was a big humongous sin, and so was questioning the Bible. I remember being humiliated when I mentioned Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code in class. My instructor said it was bad. At the back of my mind, I was thinking, "Wasn't it also bad that the Church killed millions of people during the Inquisition, and that it sold salvation during the Sale of Indulgences, and that it recently sanctified Joan of Arc when it once ordered her killing?" The Church is as confused as I was, I thought.

College came, and I almost forgot I was a Catholic. I rarely went to Church. I only attended Mass for some very unusual purposes. I didn't even go to Mass before examinations. I guess I was too busy looking for a way to pay my tuition fees. I once thought, maybe God wanted to test me to see if I'd give up and fall into the trap of prostitution. I know. That's a weird idea.

Thinking about these reasons made me feel so evil. The last time I went to Church was during Easter. I fancied processions because it was rare and special. I bought some candles and took my camera phone with me so I could take photos while walking. And man, those holy statues were creative!

Don't get me wrong, I am not an atheist nor am I a preacher or a brother from another Christian sect. I am still a Catholic and I currently have no plans of committing apostasy nor schism (terms I learned in sophomore high school Values Education). In fact, I am becoming more spiritual and more connected to what we call God than I was in the past. I pray more often. I tend to reassess my sinful actions. But still, I rarely go to Church. 

I am currently on the process of defining my relationship with God. There may be truth in what they say there's a big difference between Religion and Spirituality. I know of people who had perfect attendance in Mass, yet still back-stab their neighbors. I know of people who never go to Mass, but are very helpful to others. I presume I better be less religious and more spiritual. And I bet, people would say, this would be the best excuse of unholy people like me.

Then came this turning point. I was in the SLU library reading books about psychology. I had to stay at the library because that was the only place in school where you didn't have to spend money just to kill boredom while waiting for your next class. You see, I didn't have the funds during college. I didn't even have enough allowance to afford three meals a day. I was lucky I had the "thickest face" to discretely ask my friends for food and other benefits. Back then, I was blaming a bunch of people for letting me plunge into that misery. I was half-blaming them and God. 

So off I devoured the books in the library. I stumbled upon the 133 section of the Dewey Decimal Classification. Yes, you'd probably notice where I got that term. Well, my mother was a librarian back in high school. The 133 books happened to be about Parapsychology. I took interest. And the next thing I knew, I was mumbling the words psychic, ghosts, aliens, paranormal, seven levels, chakra, meditation, astrology and all things New Age. I became a huge fan of Jaime Licauco, HP Blavatsky, Alice Bailey and all people New Age.

At first, it was hard to accept I was starting to believe in something that most people find ridiculous and satanic. I was even told that I was falling into the trap of Satan, that I should be thinking about my soul. One guy told me ghosts were evil, that these were just hallucinations. I didn't agree, because if he was right, then half the world then would be neurotic. One girl also told me that heaven was a physical place. I again failed to agree. I was afraid to share my thoughts about the world, because I shared them in the perspective of the New Age philosophy. I was mocked and ridiculed.

But who knew what I did to ignore them? I was happy I found the 133 section in the library. It helped me reassess my faith in this God. New Age did to me what many faithful Christians feared the most - it destroyed my faith in God. It shattered my belief in the Bible and in Christ. Yet, it helped me rebuild it. My faith in God became more intense! It was like breaking an ugly pot, melting the fragments, and remolding it to become a better pot! In this view, I became more respectful about other religions. It helped me understand the nature of religions and man's tendency to safeguard his beliefs at all costs. It made me find God all over again. And no, I am not recruiting you into a new religion! New Age is not even one. It's a philosophy, more like a way of living.

From the movie Patch Adams;
Patch was questioning God for the death of her lover.

It must be rude of me to think now that God is be the most misunderstood entity in the universe. I believe each religion fabricates its own view of its own god. Each religion claims his God to be better than the other religion's God. This helps me gain more insight about God. Perhaps each of us have our own interpretation of God, of what His qualities are, if God is also a She or a We, or if that hot-headed God in Genesis and Leviticus is similar to the God of the New Testament. For me, it doesn't matter anymore, as long as our belief in that God makes us do good.

I come into the conclusion that it is impossible to deny His existence. The evidences are overwhelming! Even the things that many people think contradict God is, for me, an evidence of Him. I even find God within my enemies. I found God in the toilet, in my backyard, and in my glorious penis! I feel no shame in speaking my mind because I believe my thoughts and all thoughts are manifestations of Him. 


For others, these thoughts are so bizarre and blasphemous that they might elect me to the cross. But I care less.

I think we would understand God better when we start challenging our faith in Him. That's exactly what I did. Would it be too much if I ask you to do the same?

Nightmare 21

For the first time in 21 years, I had the worst nightmare. It was the only nightmare that brought me to tears. I was sobbing. It was past noon, when most people were awake.

In my dream, I and my family were eating early dinner at a simple restaurant on a common street in my hometown. I noticed my younger brother wasn't in this dream. While we were eating, I kept asking my father why he had gone back home from abroad. I was happy that he finally got home, but also sad because it was not for the best. I and my father then found a tiny alley and there we talked further. He suddenly got furious that he shouted at me. He pulled a gun out of nowhere, and I ran back to the restaurant. While running, I saw two policemen pull their guns from their holsters and aimed at my father. My eyes were closed but I heard a choir of gunshots. At this point, I knew I was awake. I was breathing heavily.

Halfway between dreams and wakefulness, I could see the image of a distant friend, a friend I barely knew back in childhood. It was Joanna whom I hadn't seen for more than 10 years. She was holding a gun too; her expression was that of pain and anger. I didn't know how I did it, but I hurriedly grabbed the gun from her hands, and ran back toward where my father was.

I knew it was only moments before I wake up. Suddenly, I saw my mother and my sister being hurled into the arms of a few unknown men. They were being carried somewhere, probably to the hospital. They were soaked with their own blood and they were as limp as a noodle. I was furious! I was so furious at that time I felt an insatiable desire to avenge them!

I searched for my father. I could feel my teeth grit almost to the point of pain. I could feel the gun against my grip. I was so ready to shoot him. I was so ready to kill. Then I saw him. He and the two policemen were lying lifeless on the ground.

Then I woke up.