Results for the amount of work i had to do wa... translation from English to Tagalog

the amount of work i had to do was reasonable
the amount of work i had to do was reasonable

the amount of work he was able to do.
na ang dami niyang followers na babae at sobrang insecure ka sa sarili mo pero pinipilit mo lang mag smile

i did what i had to do
para alam ko kung ano ang dapat gawin o baguhin

am sorry but i had to do this
paumanhin ngunit kailangan kong

i had to to do something to drown out the sound.
kailangan ko lang gawin ito para hindi ko kayo marinig.

making a demo application of diagnosis on faulty computer and network system is not easy for me because at the beginning of my work i had to take care to facilitate my work.
hindi madali sa akin ang paggawa ng demo application of diagnosis on faulty computer and network system dahil sa umpisa ng aking paggawa ay kailangan kong mag ingat upang mapadali ang aking trabaho

the device reduced the amount of work needed to produce yarn, with a worker able to work eight or more spools at once. this grew to 120 as technology advanced.
nababawasan ang trabaho na kinakailangan upang makagawa ng sinulid, na may isang manggagawa, magagawa mong gumawa ng walong o higit pang mga spools nang sabay-sabay. ito ay lumago hanggang 120 bilang teknolohiyang advanced.

i have na dwg file. baseplan. for that, i had to do piping so i couldn't make a floor plan
meron ka ba dwg file. baseplan. para doon nalang ako mag lagay ng piping para hinde n ako gumawa ng floor plan

then i realized that i was not the only one who was experiencing the neto, there were also many who were experiencing what i was going through, so i told myself that i had to do something, i would use this opportunity to inspire people. in our dark experience.
dun ko napagtanto hindi lang pala ako ang nakakaranans neto marami rin pala ang nakakaranas ng napagdadaanan ko kaya sinabi ko sa sarili ko na kailangan may gawin ako gagamitin kona ang pagkakataon na ito upang makainspire ng tao sabay sabay nating tigilan ang ganitong sitwasyon lalaban tayo at babangon sa madilim nating karanasan.

i knew that i had to do that because it was ordered to me and first the communication was successful, and i knew that my sister could do that work but my mistake i did not tell her because i was busy doing my module and next time should l have communicated this earlier,we would have done to wash the clothes
alam ko naman na iyon ay dapat na aking gawin dahil iyon ay inutos sakin at first the communication was successful, at alam ko naman na kayang gawain ni ate iyon ngunit ang pag kakamali ko ay hindi ko nasabi sakanya dahil busy ako sa pag gawa ng aking module and next time i will communicate them to do my task when i'm am busy

it all just sounds like ooh, ooh, ooh, hoo mm, too young, too dumb to realize that i should have bought you flowers and held your hand should have gave you all my hours when i had the chance take you to every party 'cause all you wanted to do was dance
it all sounds like ooh, ooh, ooh, hoo mm, too young, too dumb to realize that i should have bought you flowers and held your hand should have gave you all my hours when i had the chance take you to every party 'cause all you wanted to do was dance

a low art [excerpt from the penelopiad] by margaret atwood (canada) now that i’m dead i know everything. this is what i wished would happen, but like so many of my wishes it failed to come true. i know only a few factoids that i didn’t know before. death is much too high a price to pay for the satisfaction of curiosity, needless to say. since being dead — since achieving this state of bonelessness, liplessness, breastlessness —i’ve learned some things i would rather not know, as one does when listening at windows or opening ot her people’s letters. you think you’d like to read minds? think again. down here everyone arrives with a sack, like the sacks used to keep the winds in, but each of these sacks is full of words —words you’ve spoken, words you’ve heard, wo rds that have been said about you. some sacks are very small, others large; my own is of a reasonable size, though a lot of the words in it concern my eminent husband. what a fool he made of me, some say. it was a specialty of his: making fools. he got away with everything, which was another of his specialties: getting away. he was always so plausible. many people have believed that his version of events was the true one, give or take a few murders, a few beautiful seductresses, a few one-eyed monsters. even i believed him, from time to time. i knew he was tricky and a liar, i just didn’t think he would play his tricks and try out his lies on me. hadn’t i been faithful? hadn’t i waited, and waited, and waited, despite the temptation — almost the compulsion — to do otherwise? and what did i amount to, once the official version gained ground? an edifying legend. a stick used to beat other women with. why couldn’t they be as considerate, as trustworthy, as all-suffering as i had been? that was the line they took, the singers, the yarn- spinners. don’t follow my example, i want to scream in your ears — yes, yours! but when i try to scream, i sound like an owl. of course i had inklings, about his slipperiness, his wiliness, his foxiness, his — how can i put this? — his unscrupulousness, but i turned a blind eye. i kept my mouth shut; or if i opened it, i sang his praises. i didn’t contradict, i didn’t ask awkward questions, i didn’t dig deep. i wanted happy endings in those days, and happy endings are best achieved by keeping the right doors locked and going to sleep during the rampages. but after the main events were over and things had become less legendary, i realised how many people were laughing at me behind my back — how they were jeering, making jokes about me, jokes both clean and dirty; how they were turning me into a story, or into several stories, though not the kind of stories i’d prefer to hear about m yself. what can a woman do when scandalous gossip travels the world? if she defends herself she sounds guilty. so i waited some more. now that all the others have run out of air, it’s my t urn to do a little storymaking. i owe it to myself. i’ve had to work myself up to it: it’s a low art, tale-telling. old women go in for it, strolling beggars, blind singers, maidservants, children — folks with time on their hands. once, people would have laughed if i’d tried to play th e minstrel —there’s nothing more preposterous than an aristocrat fumbling around with the arts — but who cares about public opinion now? the opinion of the people down here: the opinions of shadows, of echoes. so i’ll spin a thread of my own.
isang mababang kwento ng sining sa tagalog