First Honor

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I am waiting for my turn to walk that long, blue carpet. I experienced it once and it felt so damn great. And to enter last again, wow, I couldn’t be any prouder. Felt like I was in the top of the world, invincible, powerful. No one could dare touch me. Except perhaps for my mom, who’s standing beside me, trying to fix my hair and adjusting my oversized white toga.

And I did felt like on the top of the world. Already in my life, I gave two inspiring speeches, one edited by my Lola who thought I was my uncle’s replica (we do look alike though) and the other, I did with what I really felt which means bashing those who tried to put me down and never believed in me. I almost said “Die, you suckers!” instead of “Thank you for not always believing in me, thus, I proved you wrong.” Yeah, it feels so good whenever you’re on top, as if you can rule the world, as if your words are more authoritative than your comrades, as if everyone looks up to you and tell you that your parents must have been so proud to have you.

And that is exactly what I felt entering the streets of Diliman. Yeah, I can do this; I can do better than some of these people. I can even graduate with honors and well, get a great job, earn some then indulge on the marvels of the world. It’s easier said than done; so much easier said than done.

Last night, I had a fight with my parents. (Hate you Jack Black.) A major fight I wished never happened. But it happened. And I was made to hear what I’ve been avoiding for the two years. I was made to realize how messed up I am now, how my life turned into a black hole of negativity and failures. From gold, I turned into garbage, easily disposable, worthless and powerless. And I just cried and cried harder and cried until I can no longer grasp reality. I grabbed some blade and voila, marked my wrists. But I couldn’t do it really, I am such a failure. I should have been a dead man walking. Like those I see in silent, abandoned places.

And what hurts more is that I felt like my mom could have said more. That I haven’t heard enough from them, how disappointed they were in me, how they thought I could be great and instead became terrible, how frustrated they were in me that I used to be a sweet, fine boy who gave honor to our family, and how they would have wished they weren’t my parents. It hurts like hell to hear those words coming from their mouths.

Perhaps, they weren’t so proud of me after all. Aside from all those petty achievements I gave them, I am truly nothing to them, more so a baggage they could have gotten rid way before. I am and will be worthless without a diploma. And it will stay this way until I get that fucking college diploma.

I used to feel I am at the top of the world, looking over my surrogates, feeling significant and dominant. I used to be there until five years later, God gave me some barricades to hurdle. And it’s not easy to be at the trough of the wave. At the back of my mind, I somehow wished I could have died right after high school graduation when everything was perfect and wonderful. And God knows how I am suffering now. But that’s life when you’re not the first honor anymore.

P.S. To those who once told me they’ll be there for me when I need them, those who said they care for me and love me no matter what, I am in dire need of help and love and care. Pray for my soul and my enlightenment.

Summer

Sana summer na lang ulit.
Para kaklase ulit kita.
Para makita ulit kita araw-araw.

Iba naman na sitwasyon ko ngayon.
Di tulad dati, pwede na tayo siguro.

Nakakatuwa lang.
Kung kailan di na tayo naging magkaklase,
ngayon tayo nag usap.
E dati sa magkabilang dulo pa tayo nakaupo.

Tapos, nung enrollment, nagkita ulit tayo.
Baka dun ko naisip, sana, ikaw na lang yung katabi ko.

Tinanong mo ko kung kamusta na ko.
Sabi ko ok naman na ko.
Nalaman mo kung anong nangyari samin,
sabi mo bigla,
"Goodluck naman sa Valentine's day!"

Salamat sa goodluck.
Pero mas masaya sana kung goodluck sating dalawa di ba?
Haha! Nilalandi lang naman kita.
Pero malay mo, tayo pala talaga.

Sana summer na lang ulit.
Sabi natin noon, magkaklase tayo ulit kay Sir,
sa ibang subject naman.

Sana summer na lang ulit.
Ngayon, ikaw na kausap ko,
ikaw na katabi ko.
Para naman sumaya na summer ko,
pati na rin puso ko.
Corny much!

Sana ngayong summer, SANA.

Troika II

-->PART II (The Boy Who Cried Foul)
I wanted to throw a hard punch straight in to your face when I heard you talk shit. And I was right there when you said a word that made my temper blow up. You were teasing me in the wrong moment and damn, I was so pissed off. Good thing I collected my thoughts and remember what my mom told me about throwing tantrums in public. You were a lucky bitch then. I told you to read my blog and see my wrath.

Three weeks later, and a blog terrorizing your whole existence in earth did not materialize. Why? I don’t really know. Maybe, the whole “threatening” thing was just a spur of the moment, an empty threat hoping to send you a warning that I am not comfortable on the idea of you making a big joke of my dire emotions. And I guess you got my point then since you stop talking shit into my face.

Or maybe, I just got tired of dealing with such emotions that I just don’t care. Really, I’ve had enough baggage in my life and to carry another (and you’re not as light as you think you are) is just too much. Too many enemies for me; too many bridges burned; too much negativity in my life.

And maybe, I just understood your point - that I am taking this thing too seriously that a mere mention of a name makes me furious. Maybe you thought, it’s ok to talk trash to the resident trash-talker in Aguman.

Dude, you are just too lucky you never have to experience the things I have gone through. My life really is not really an open book, and you may not really know who I truly am. But at the end of the day, one learns his lessons and every bit of anger is forgotten. Hence, you are forgiven.

An Ode to that Arab-Looking Guy

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“Angas ng dating nung lalaking yun. Pa-bida pa. Sa gitna umupo, e late naman siya. Mukhang arabo pa.” I told Val, my seatmate and BS Math friend, on the opening day of our Educ 100 class. It was a freakishly hot summer afternoon in UP and the mere thought of going into class is just dragging. Well, had it been my way, I would have stayed home, watched all day and tired myself in doing nothing. But when you’re in “purgatory”, i.e., non-major status and needed to shift badly, you have no choice but to sacrifice your ultra elusive precious vacation.

Obviously, I was in my usual self then, being a brat, throwing grand tantrums, dishing out people and all. Well, blame it on the weather; or in my “hanging” academic status; or in my unstable, stressful “love life”; or in the fact that my batch mates are graduating and here I am sitting in this boring room instead of practicing my graduation march. There are obviously a lot of things going on in my life then and I was about to throw in the towel and quit. But I wouldn’t mind spending that one last chance of getting back at people I hate. And so this Arab-looking guy, a complete stranger, my first “potential” prey, had to experience my wrath of nastiness. Or so I thought.

Fast forward, almost a year has passed and here I am, practicum-shy of my long-delayed graduation (finally!), completing a degree in education (who would have thought?) and single yet contended (but that’s another issue!). And for that Arab-looking guy? He dropped out of the course because of “extreme emotional violence and trepidation” from a classmate. Haha!

Seriously, that guy is one of my best buddies in UP. We were reporting group mates in that class (di ko pa din na-gets yung game mo!), thus, became seat/activity/”bash” mates plus share a couple of friends and a professor. Also, we were shifting into Educ, thus spending much time chasing the notorious, ever powerful Ate Glo. Good thing, we were both accepted in Educ or else the story ended right there and then. And now, we are torturing ourselves in a Physics (his major and my minor) class.

In such a short time, I gained a friend worthy of two. (Oo, Lawi, dinelete ko sila. Haha). Enrolment pal, “Bash” mate, taxi friend, ka-alaskahan, Starbucks buddy (lugi na ko dahil nauubos allowance ko sa almusal natin). Haha!

Well, he may not fully experienced my wrath but I always make sure he gets a dose of it every once in a while.

Thanks, Andrell Adik, humanda ka sa Tuesday. Inuna ko pa tong pinapagawa mo kesa sa probset natin. Kokopya na lang ako sayo. Haha!

P.S. Di ko pwedeng apihin si he-who-must-not-be –named. Kawawa naman yung tao. Haha! Di naman siguro siya nang-aagaw ng friends e.

I Call My Kids Special

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“I Call My Kids Special”

I.

They call my kid stupid

for he cannot write nor read

but I know he is intelligent

and to teach him, just be patient

Still they call my kid abnormal

I call him just as special.

II.

They call my kid unruly,

for he loves running around actively,

he may not seem to care,

but everyone deserves a pair.

They may call him abnormal,

but I call him very special.

III.

They call my kid useless

for he always needs to rest,

he may never be get to dance,

but he still had his chance.

they still call my kid abnormal

I call him just as special.

IV.

They call my kid weird,

for he never wanted to be jeered,

he may be too messy and bossy,

but he also learns very quickly.

And they call my kid abnormal,

I call him just as special.

V.

They call my kid futile,

when he cannot react he'll just smile,

though he may not hear a single sound,

I know his abilities are completely unbound.

Still they call him abnormal,

I call him just as special.

VI.

They call my child miserable,

for he cannot behave proper and able,

he resists changes and shows distress,

so guide him and love him no less,

Still they call my child abnormal,

I call him just as special.

VII.

They call my kid worthless,

for his behavior is a mess,

he never conforms and he always lied,

but we should understand, there was never a guide.

Still they call him abnormal,

but to me he is special.

VIII.

They call my kid unfortunate,

for he cannot see what's in his fate,

though darkness may surround his whole hind,

I know he shed some light in his mind.

But they still call him abnormal,

to me he will always be special.

Music by: Kenny Logins' House at the Pooh Corner

Delayed

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Delayed

That proud naked man, spreading his well-sculpted arms, standing tall and proud as ever in a platform of solid gray stones! He never ceases to impress me every time I pass by him. You see, it is so noble of him to stand unclothed, offer himself to the world, and signify relevant importance to this struggling country. Ah! The wonders of the oblation – such honor and dignity!

While passing by the University Avenue one burning summer day, I noticed something strange about the oblation. So, I took some time to stop and observe him. For some weird reasons, I felt something wrong while my eyes wandered his full nakedness. I felt something strong while observing his head help high and his arms widely spread. He was holding on to something – something of great importance for some but a source of grudge for mine. The feeling was just overpowering that water started filling up my eyes. While the hot summer wind blew over my face, shivers delivered the coldness I wasn’t expecting. That moment, I felt my knees trembling and my heart crushing into a million piercing pieces. Though I felt the blinding sunlight burn my skin, everything else around me turned black. Except for one; and I stood there, face to face with the oblation, still yet damaged, firm yet fading. I turned my back from him and silently walked away to the acad oval.

After that compelling day, I tried everything just to avoid passing by his statue. My usual jeepney ride from Quezon Ave. to Palma Hall became so excruciating that I willingly spent some extra cash to take taxi rides and traverse CP Garcia to KNL to Benitez Hall. When I thought I am spending too much money on taxis, I decided to stick to riding jeeps but I would take off by the check-point and take an Ikot ride. Paying extra to avoid the oblation, I thought, would be good for me then. I am really sure if I could see him and not feel bad and act as nonchalantly as always. I’m not as sure though if I could control myself and hide my tears. I told myself, I have to avoid him in every way possible. So I stuck through these painful routines for days.

But avoidance couldn’t help me either. I was not getting better. For in every time I would open my Facebook account, I would see my batch mates upload their graduation pictures, proudly wearing their togas and sablays. I tried masking my emotions by saying my congratulations to those graduates, as if I am extremely happy and fine about their graduation, as if it’s not a big deal for me to be delayed for my own graduation. Deep inside, I am envious, frustrated, angry, bitter and disappointed.

I am envious because my friends already got what I have been wanting the most – a college diploma. I am frustrated because I should have graduated with those people but I failed. I failed myself in doing so. I am angry, more at my own department, for they could have been more considerate about my case and they should have let me finish my degree with them but they just don’t have the heart to give me that chance. I am bitter because I could have marched with them, wore my sablay and walked the stage and get my hard-earned diploma. I am extremely disappointed at myself, especially when I saw my mom discreetly wept a tear and my dad stared blankly outside the house upon learning that I would not graduate on time. I let down once more, I did it again. I am disappointed more because my high school graduation picture will still hang on our wall for a little longer, along with my sisters’ black toga college pictures, with my mom’s graduation picture, and my dad’s military graduation picture. I felt bad for my dad because he had to postpone his retirement just for me to finish my studies. And I couldn’t forgive myself for doing so. I cried for days. I cried whenever I am alone. I cried as if I’m going to drown this whole world. I cried until I could not produce a tear anymore.

Tears are just strange for me. I can’t even remember shedding a tear for any of my graduation rites. I managed to be as composed and firm as I always do even when I graduated at the top of my batch both in elementary and high school. I delivered heartfelt speeches on both occasions and left some of my teachers teary-eyed. I got the most number of medals than any of my batch mates and my parents proudly hang them in my neck. But I never cried on all of these moments. Not even the thought of my friends’ leaving me and all those cheesy stuffs could not make me cry. Not until this year, my supposedly graduation year. I never cried this much in my life to think that it’s not even my graduation I am crying about. It’s just that the moments will never be the same again. No medals, no speeches, no top honors, nothing. Call me dense and lame, but my graduation would be empty and gibberish, I guess. But as always, I have to move on and forge ahead.

When I grow old, look back and reflect on how my life has been, I would list down my fondest memories I would like to remember. And my stay in UP would not be in my favorites, nor even a logical choice. But somehow, my experiences in this university would definitely one of my most memorable ones. I learned a lot of valuable life lessons I need in my life. The experiences brought me to a lot of realizations I could not infer had I not been on a helpless situation. They made me stronger and shaped me to be better, mentally and emotionally. I learned to not give up and fight ‘til the end. I learned to stand up with dignity after a terrible tumble. As they say, when you’re down, there’s no way but up.

Now, you may see me inside this class, wearing a smile and being perky and all. But I am still in the process of accepting my fate and moving on. I guess, I am a good faker for pretending to be fine when I am not. But I’ll get through this, in one way or another. Besides, being delayed in UP is not that a big issue. What matters is that you graduate, earn a degree and fulfill your dreams, right?

It’s not the first time I saw the oblation holding a sablay in his arms. It’s not the first time I saw the sunflowers bloomed along the university either. Hopefully, it would not be my last. I know I will be in that platform, taking my UP diploma. May it be next year or so, I am preparing myself for it. I guess I just have to wait for my turn. I’ll wait for that moment when I’ll get to wear a sablay and sunflowers bloom for my graduation. Life goes on. For now, I’ll just pass by the oblation and adore his utmost honor and excellence, with no bitter feelings, whatsoever.