I drag my suitcase across the lobby and went to the reception desk to finally check out. The receptionist told me to wait for a while as she processes my bill, and as I looked to my right I finally recognize who was standing beside me, checking in at the same hotel. JOYCE VILLAVICENCIO was spelling out her last name to the Singaporean local who’s processing her billeting. I called her and she immediately looked at me. She was, as usual, with her camera, taking pictures of Singapore for an online travel journal. She was joined a few moments later by her now sister-in-law, KOLEEN GREGORIO who specialized in food photography. After some small talk, we finally parted, promising to get in touch once their assignment is done

So I hop onto the plane half reminiscing, half anticipating. The plane started to take off, and I settled into a shallow slumber. About an hour later, a gentle tap on my shoulder woke me up, asking me if I needed anything. I looked up to find dashing ERNEST DE CASTRO’s smiling face staring down at me. As we talk, I found out that he had been a steward for quite some time and has been traveling immensely, enjoying the experience but never forgetting where he truly belongs.

The plane landed in Manila after 3 hours, and as I walk out to the airport I saw a throng of press people waiting at the lobby. I saw TV Patrol’s new showbiz reporter, CAMILLE RAMOS and she and her crew seemed to be waiting for someone. I stopped to wave but she didn’t see me because someone finally arrived. With guards and assistants around her Ms. International 2015 RUSSEL NHERIE BERNABE went back to the Philippines after coaching and attending Ms. International 2021. She also visited the OFWs in Hawaii while she was there, extending her ear to all our needy fellowmen as the Philippines’ Ambassador of Goodwill. And since they seem to be all so busy I decided to leave peacefully, thinking I should interview her too for a women empowerment article.

So I now hail a taxi to reach the bus terminal. As I sit at the back of the taxi, I heard a familiar voice over the radio. Piercing, fast, and totally hilarious, it was AMILOU DIZON. She’s promoting a new gig later that night at a stand-up comedy bar with her partner in crime, CATHERINE AGUSTIN. The two had been a power duo in FM radio, almost as popular as ‘Tambalang Balasubas and Balahura’. They were called ‘Cathya at Amiluga, Kambal na Bakla ng Tadhana’, providing good laugh trip on Wow FM 103.5. I laughed silently as I remembered Amilou’s famous “Pirika Pirilala” intro, and I gazed out the window of the cab. As I did I saw a billboard of a familiar face, pretty and fair. Why it’s HERSEY GREGORIO! Aside from being a full-time print ad model, she’s now an endorser for a famous whitening soap (despite the fact that she has always been fair skinned without the soap). As we go along EDSA, another billboard caught my eye. It was an ad for the concert of the Pinoy rock band “Para’po” which, I suddenly remembered, was managed by ISABEL TAMAYO.

It was getting dark when I reached the bus terminal. I boarded a bus to Bulacan and settled to a seat near the aisle. As more people board the bus, I looked up to the flat TV in front and watched mindlessly. It was, as I noticed a Korean drama series that I hadn’t had the time to watch. It was about a rich man who was often fooled by women and thus had a plastic surgery to make himself ugly. And as the credits rolled, I found out that the producer of the Tagalized Korean drama series is DIANNE GRACE PAHATI.

Soon enough the primetime news started airing. News about banning women OFWs in the Middle East have raised debates and eyebrows among women all over the world. I remembered a column I once read in Philippine Daily Inquirer written by my friend JAMILA MILLAR where she described how surreal the lives of women OFWs in the Middle East are especially since she had been there for a few years with her mother. This issue was also featured in Kapuso Mo, Jessica Soho where, as I recall, IRISH DOTILLOS works as a production assistant.

I stared at the screen blankly, preoccupied with thoughts of how my classmates in college came to be. I blinked when I suddenly realized that the Coca-cola commercial airing at that moment was new. I blinked again and realized that nope, I wasn’t mistaken; the pretty girl who was singing Coca-cola’s new jingle was JANEA SALAC! A fellow behind me even remarked that this girl would probably be the next Nikki Gil.

The news went on after the commercial and after a few headlines, the sports news began to roll. Despite the fact that I’m not a very sporty person, I’ve come to anticipate the sports news because DIANA CAMILLE CARREON has been a presenter on the show for almost a year now. She had replaced Dianne Castillejo as the main sports reporter ever since she retired from TV. From time to time, PBA correspondent DESIREE BALTAZAR also appeared to report on the games and the lives of the PBA ballers. Not so far from their line of specialization is their friend REINALYN BANAG who is also a PBA correspondent for AM radio. She even anchors the radio coverage of championships and reports straight from the court!

Before I knew it I was back in the outskirts of Bulacan. I stepped off the bus at a nearby fastfood chain and decided to eat first before heading home. I entered the 24-hours open doors of McDonald’s and ordered dinner patiently. But when I saw how small the chicken fillet on my plate was, I lost my cool and immediately demanded for the manager. The woman who approached me was medium sized, almost as though you could call her voluptuous. She was lean, with big bosoms and eyes that seemed so villainous. But what surprised me was the look of recognition when she saw me. She is, as it turned out, ABIGAIL MENESES and she wasn’t the manager nor a crew but the owner of the said McDonald’s branch. She immediately took my plate and ordered for my chicken to be changed.

From her, I found out that some of our block mates have gone a long way since college. For one thing, I found out that the class president PATRICK DELA CRUZ is now the head of promotions for Enchanted Kingdom. JENNA NAZARENO, who was one of the most industrious in the class pursued foreign language and is now a successful Nihonggo and English online teacher and earns double than those who work outside of their home! JOHN GESTER GATUS on the other hand has made a career in call center and is now a team leader. Meanwhile, JANE ALEJANDRO has inherited their fruit business and now has succeeded in owning her own fruit plantation. Her bestfriend CASEY GANELO is now married to her longtime boyfriend, they now have two kids and have successfully built a growing printing business specifically targeting students who are doing their theses. One of the achievers of the class, GOLDAH JOIS TERTE, left her job as an account executive just when she was about to be promoted to pursue her religious calling. On the other hand, her friend BEVERLY VALENCIA, has finally accepted her promotion in Ayala Corporation and is now an executive for corporate communications. Despite her fortune, she never did a boob job but has undergone major trips to the spa for body scrubs and is now as fair skinned as KATE MANUEL is when I saw her while I was covering the Philippine Fashion Week. She’s now a professional ramp model and has also appeared in various fashion editorials.

I finally went home happy that night, full of stories of the past and the present. And as I approached the gate, I saw my mother cooking dinner with the radio beside her. I kissed her and and as I take off my shoes I heard a familiar voice on the radio. Since she first broadcasted in DZRH as a correspondent, IRISH MAY IGNACIO has been my mother’s favorite. She first broadcasted on-air when one of the female reporters died of an unfortunate accident. She was reporting about the awards night which she recently covered. I suddenly perked when I heard her say the name JOSE MARI GARCIA who, as she related, recently won the Palanca Award for his book of poems for Filipino children.

Then all of a sudden, my phone beeped. There was an email from my editor saying that she needed my help for an article about a new line of clothing. She sent me the details and tasked me to make phone calls and arrange an interview and photo shoot as soon as possible. Immediately, I called our usual studio to schedule the shoot but as luck would have it, they were fully booked for the month. I hurriedly reached for my laptop and scoured the net for a studio and photographer. I found the studio named “Serpentine” on the search engine and I opened its website. Oddly enough, I found out that the owner of the studio is MARIA LAURA MANZANILLA. I immediately called her and asked her how she was, also telling her that I needed to rent her studio for a photo shoot. She gladly took the offer and booked me immediately, also telling me that she would do the shoot herself. Afterwards, I phoned the new clothing line and I spoke to the brand manager and co-designer who was, surprisingly, MELODY DOMINGO. I asked her how she is and talked her into advertising in our magazine since the editorial page for next month would be centered on their new line. She promised to think about it and as we hang up, we agreed to meet for the photo shoot. I also needed a stylist so I called ANA KARLA SANTOS who pursued fashion after graduation and is now a well-known fashion blogger. I also called on the professional help of WINCHELLE ANN TALION, who after getting a scholarship in a cosmetology school in Manila is now a sought-after make-up artist to the stars. Some of her best clients are the K.N.U (Kembot Na Unlimited) Dancers who are managed and choreographed by KIMBERLY SINGKAC.

As the night wore on I suddenly felt the need to relax for a while before I head to sleep. I flipped the TV on and sat back. The channel was set on TV5 where a historical travel show hosted by Kuya ALVIN ABCEDE is airing. As the show ended, I changed the channel to GMA7 where a teaser for the movie under Viva is shown. The leading man, I came to realize, is JOSEPH RONALD NOCUM and his leading lady is former Survivor Philippines Castaway HARLENE SAN JUAN. The film was entitled “Booba Part 2: Final Answer”. The official soundtrack of the film was sung by RICHARD NICDAO, who was discovered two years ago while singing “My Way” in a karaoke bar. The song was composed by NARCI DEL ROSARIO and the title was “Ikaw Ang Joy Ng Buhay Ko”. After the movie teaser, I flipped the channel to ABS-CBN and found that my favorite sitcom was halfway to its end. The show is starred by the popular comedy trio, RALPH ROI ROMANO, EDIEMAR CRUZ and JOHN PAULO MARIANO and was entitled “Palibhasa Cute Boys”.

It was past midnight and the show was coming to an end when out of the blue, my phone rang. It was RUTH ANNE CHUA calling. She happily told me that she and husband RICHARD JOSHUA PAGUIA will be celebrating their wedding anniversary on his birthday and she wants me to help her throw a party. It may seem ironic in a way because they were the ones specializing in organizing events (she’s the organizer, he does the coverage) but I still agreed to help out because I knew that this event would be something more than just a gathering.

And so 10 years after graduation, there we were together again, the wedding anniversary turned class reunion. And as I looked around, so much has changed. But despite the different paths we went to, the different decisions we made, we were still—and will always be—BAMC-4A. 4ever. Always.

Firework by: Katy Perry

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag
Drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?
Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin
Like a house of cards, one blow from caving in?

Do you ever feel already buried deep?
Six feet under screams but no one seems to hear a thing
Do you know that there’s still a chance for you
‘Cause there’s a spark in you?

You just gotta ignite the light and let it shine
Just own the night like the 4th of July

‘Cause baby, you’re a firework
Come on, show ‘em what you’re worth
Make ‘em go, oh
As you shoot across the sky

Baby, you’re a firework
Come on, let your colors burst
Make ‘em go, oh
You’re gonna leave ‘em falling down

You don’t have to feel like a waste of space
You’re original, cannot be replaced
If you only knew what the future holds
After a hurricane comes a rainbow

Maybe you’re reason why all the doors are closed
So you could open one that leads you to the perfect road
Like a lightning bolt, your heart will blow
And when it’s time, you’ll know

You just gotta ignite the light and let it shine
Just own the night like the 4th of July

‘Cause baby you’re a firework
Come on, show ‘em what you’re worth
Make ‘em go, oh
As you shoot across the sky

Baby, you’re a firework
Come on, let your colors burst
Make ‘em go, oh
You’re gonna leave ‘em falling down

Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
It’s always been inside of you, you, you
And now it’s time to let it through

‘Cause baby you’re a firework
Come on, show ‘em what you’re worth
Make ‘em go, oh
As you shoot across the sky

Baby, you’re a firework
Come on, let your colors burst
Make ‘em go, oh
You’re gonna leave ‘em falling down

Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon

Sa totoo lang, kahit ilang beses pa kong ngumiti hinding hindi mawawala ang sakit na idinulot no’n sa puso ko.

Pangarap ko ‘yon eh, gusto ko ‘yon… gustong gustong gusto…

Sa totoo lang, nung sinabi sa a’kin ni Sir na hindi kami nanalo ni Greth akala ko nag-jo-joke lang siya, kasi nakangiti pa siya. Pero nung sinabi niyang “totoo nga” napangiti na lang ako at sinabi kong “okay lang po ‘yon” nung sinabi ko ‘yong mga salitang ‘yon, nakaramdam ako ng saglit na kapayapaan, tapos nag-init ang mukha ko. Kaya para mawala ang init na ‘yon, ipinasya kong gusto kong mag-swimming, nagpunta ako sa banyo para magpalit—este magpakatao at umiyak. Tinitigan ko ‘yong nakasabit sa leeg ko at sa isip-isip ko: “Bakit ko pa ba ‘to nakita? Bakit Mo pa ko pinaniwala na kung magdadasal ako ng husto, kung isusuot ko ‘to, kung magiging masayahin ako at punong-puno ng pag-asa, kung pipilitin ko silang lahat na maging positibo gaya ko, baka sakali manalo ulit ako, kami…?”

Sa totoo lang, nung mga oras na nag-uusap-usap kayo tungkol sa plano niyong sunugin at bunutin isa-isa ang mga tutsang— este buhok— ni Kinky dahil sa kademonyohan niya sa atin, gusto kong sumigaw at sabihing “Tragis, tama na matulog na lang tayo!!!” sabay yakap at iyak. Pero hindi ko ginawa, kasi alam kong hindi tayo pare-pareho ng paraan ng pagmo-mourn. Salamat na lang sa cup noodles ni Ateng-Walang-Pahinga-Sa-Wifi-Zone at nakatamo ako ng konting kapayapaan at katahimikan. Salamat sa mga kaibigan ko sa RMTU, lalo kay Tope, at napagtanto kong meron pa palang dapat ipagpasalamat.

Sa totoo lang, habang pinapaganda ko kayong lahat nung umagang ‘yon, parang gusto ko na lang umuwi. Pero sayang naman ‘yong outfit kong pinaghandaan ko talaga, kaya nagpaganda na rin ako, nagpakuha ng maraming pictures para maalala ko ‘yong itsura ko at ‘yong laman ng isip at puso ko noong mga oras na ‘yon.

Sa totoo lang, habang binabasa nila Kinky and Co. ang winners para sa Feature Writing English at Filipino category, para kong sinisilaban dahil sa sobrang depresyon, kalungkutan, galit, panghihinayang. At habang tinititigan ko ‘yong medals ni Evelyn Alera, na talaga namang idolo ko na dahil sa sobrang galing niya, habang pinagmamasdan ko ‘yong magandang ngiti niya sa kabila ng lungkot dahil sa aming nalalapit na sama-samang pagbagsak, naalala ko ‘yong pangako ko sa sarili ko nung highschool na hindi ako gagradute ng walang award o achievement na hindi nangyari dahil Loyalty Award lang ang naisabit ko sa leeg ni Daddy ko pagkatapos ng graduation. Naalala ko rin ‘yong pangako ko sa sarili ko na hindi na ‘yon mangyayari sa college graduation ko dahil mananalo ako sa Regionals at Luzonwide, na hindi na rin pala mangyayari. Naalala ko noong napagtanto kong magaling pala ako sa features dahil bukod sa nanalo ako last year eh naging features editor pa ako ng 2 consecutive years kaya tinawag ko ang sarili kong Diyosa. Naalala ko yung pakiramdam na kahit pa mali-mali palagi ang basa nila sa pangalan ko eh  masaya akong tatakbo/rarampa/lilipad papunta sa stage para kunin ang medalya kong silver o bronze o rust (dahil hindi pa naman ako nagkakaroon ng ginto kahit kailan). Naalala ko ‘yong itsura ng mommy ko nung dumating ako at niloko ko siya at sinabing hindi ako nanalo, na hindi ko nakita paguwi ko dahil masaya pa rin nila akong sinalubong kahit pagod siya sa paglalaba. Tapos biglang singit si Sir Merx nang: “Gusto mo bigyan kita niyan?” tatawa-tawa na lang ako pero ang totoo gusto ko kurutin si Sir sa tagiliran dahil muntik nang tumulo yung luha kong pinipilit kong itago. Napagpasiyahan kong itigil na ang masochism at umalis sa gitna ng individual awarding para mag-isang yakapin ang Folio kong 2nd Best na naman. Buti na lang at sumama sa’kin si Greth na alam kong kagaya ko ay nadudurog din ang mabuting puso sa panonood.

Sa totoo lang, habang nagbibitterya ako sa unan sa hita ni Greth, habang sinusuklay niya ng kaniyang  mga daliri ang buhok ko, hindi rin ako makapaniwala sa mga nasasabi ko. At sa dami nang iniluha ko, napagtanto kong compared kay Greth eh napakaself-centered ko pa lang tao. At unti-unti ay nadama ko ang kapayapaan ni Lord. May pakpak siguro si Greth, hindi lang halata kasi lagi siyang naka-crouch.

Sa totoo lang, gusto kong makita kayong lahat na umakyat at kunin ang 2nd Best nating over-all award. Gusto ko kayong yakapin, lalo na si Jaja, ng sabay-sabay kung kaya ko lang para hindi ko na kailangang sabihing mahal ko kayao at wag na kayong magalit/magbitter. Alam ko namang masakit, sobra. Alam kong nakakademonyo talaga ang nangyari dahil nang dahil sa 14 points lang ay nawala ang ating korona na inigatan natin at ipinakipagpatayan sa loob ng 3 taon. Pero tama si Greth: THERE’S A FAILURE IN EVERY SUCCESS, AND THERE’S A SUCCESS IN EVERY FAILURE. Salamat sa pagtalo sa’tin ng BPSU, napagtanto namin ni Greth na ang yabang yabang na pala natin. Sana mapagtanto niyo na rin.

Sa totoo lang, sobrang sakit at bigat sa dibdib ng mga nangyari. Paano ko ba sasagutin ang mga tanbong na “Bakit?” sa tuwing ibinabalita ko ang masamang balita nang hindi yumuyurak sa pagkatao nilang  mga desperado…? Nasira ang simpleng pangarap ko dahil sa panget na judge na ‘yon na hindi naman ata talaga alam kung ano ang feat writing dahil downloaded lang sa internet ‘yong buong slideshow niya na tinakedown-notes ko pa dahil hangang hanga ako. Potah. Nakakaiyak talaga. Gusto ko ‘yon, gustong gustong gusto. Gusto kong patunayan na may karapatan pa rin akong maging Diyosa, na tama ang hiniling kong sana eh feat ed parin ako hanggang ngayon, na feat lang ang kaya kong isulat, na meron akong kayang gawin na hindi kaya ng iba. Pero wala na… ibigay ko na ang lahat at lubos lubos na pananampalataya na ang naipakita ko. Siguro kulang pa ko sa dasal. Siguro hindi pa talaga ako magaling. Siguro gusto lang ni Lord na pasayahin ko kayo at paalalahanang magdasal. Siguro gusto lang ni Lord na ibaba tayo ng konti para maaga pa lang eh makita na natin na maaari tayong lumagpak hanggang hell dahil sa kayabangan natin. Siguro gusto lang ni Lord na makita ko na hindi lang iyon ang kaya ko. Na hindi iyon ang landas ko. Siguro. Pero hindi ako naghihinanakit sa Kaniya, alam kong mahal Niya ako at marami pa Siyang plano. Maraming Siyang nalalaman na hindi kayang alamin ng tao. Kaya bayaan niyo lang tumulo ang luha mga mahal ko, makakabangon rin tayo.

One thing I almost always hate about this ‘disease’ is that I always had to hide it. And I’m always almost alone because not everyone has the same case. So it’s something that I had to bear on my own. No cures. No other way but to scratch your way in and maintain short nails.

Sometimes, we have certain things we hate but we can never get away from. It’s almost the same as having baby fats or having difficulty staying sane when things come to a great disaster. And just like OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder), Tagulabay, and Cold-Area-Hate, I still have one thing about me that I hate so much I would not even dare say it out loud. I’m a brat.

I grew up in a world of expectations where the orders came not from my family but from the environment I grew up. Which is why in my head, I built a standard that is to be my ‘life’ and my ‘happiness’. Simply put, it’s a land of powdered sugar and cotton candy with lots of salt and dirty, splotchy salsa on the side. It’s a mismatch of the cute, the great and the imperfectly delicious, and it was with him that I have found both.

Maman and I are two very different individuals. So much so that I almost always fail to understand why I still can’t organize his external drive, even if I want to, because I just can’t find my way in. And what I also can’t understand is the fact that he can so easily be me, but I can’t be him for even just a day. And that fact, I had to learn the hard way.

I was groping for words that night, trying to describe how it felt a few days ago. It was hypothermia for me, not on my fingers or toes but on my heart. It felt like I was in the midst of winter all night long with only a jacket on. And I felt alone… And I can feel my blood vessels starting to tighten in my heart, the blood flow beginning to slow down and my body about to get numb with the cold. And I felt panic… then depression… and it made me do something I would and would not regret afterwards.

The feeling that your alone and sad is the deadliest feeling one could ever feel. It’s a self-inflicted pain that leaves you helpless… makes you look like a freaking fool and a self-centered moron begging for attention. But it’s a feeling you’ll always want to feel because it’s comforting…

That night was the most lonely night I may have had. But I slept well. Because I felt warmth in my heart after the pain. It’s knowing that you’ve said your piece and that’s that.

No, I’m not mentally disturbed. I’m as sane as can be. And no, I don’t wash my hands 10x a day. In a book a friend once lent me, I learned that OCD can be as bad as ‘thinking that you’re hearing voices in your head’ to as simple as ‘tearing paper and rolling it to a cone’. It’s more of the ‘hard-to-get-out-of-my-system’ habit which often results to discomfort on the person’s part once discovered.

When I was young, I remember scrubbing the doors with Scotch Brite and soap, crying because of my sibling’s crayon doodles. Then, I’m on tip toe in front of the sink, being taught that cups and spoons must go first. Today, the effects of these moments can be clearly reflected in me.

I live in a world of seemingly ordinary patterns. When I bathe, I scrub my arms first, and then my upper torso, and then my legs and feet. I scrub the left side first before the right. When I wash the dishes, I line up everything according to size. The glasses and mugs go first, then the utensils, the bowls, then the plates. After washing, I clean the table, then the kitchen counter, the stove top, and then the kitchen floors. I had to always crouch down when washing to see and feel if I have scrubbed all the oils and dried rice. I always start sweeping at the far end of the kitchen, at the left corner. When I clean the house, I start with the living room. And I start under the couch before anything else. Then I go to the front room, then to the kitchen. And I do the same r0utine everytime. When I clean the bathroom, I clean the toilet bowl and sink first before I scrub the right part of the floor, and then the walls that always has to start near the door.

It may be strange–Okay weird–that I do this pattern all the time. I don’t even seem to be the type of person who does that. But I cant help it. And I’m used to it. It’s actually a way of life already. Oh well… It doesn’t help when I had to do things as fast as I can because it ‘has’ to go some sort of order. But ‘not doing it’ would ruin everything and I’d rather not do anything if I can’t do it ‘that’ way. Well, at least I’m still normal… maybe. *smiley*

I, personally, think of approximately 15 people a day… Sometimes even more than 20. And I often base their importance in my life on the number of times they come across my mind. I think about my mom the moment I walk out of my room and my dad whenever I come home. I think about Patchieken every 2 hours and it makes me either sad of happy. I think about Lunatica’s cute siblings and how the pizza we bought yesterday suffice their bottomless tanks. I think about the shorts Ize’s mom made for us. I think about Ran and R.J. whenever the class starts. But these days, I often think about my ‘friend’ out of nowhere.

Let me tell you something about relationships. The truth is, not because you are in one doesn’t mean you have to be a monogamist. In these contemporary times, we have been introduced to new socially acceptable relationships such as same sex marriages and fubus (F*ck Buddies). And this is where the story would’ve ended if not for my principles.

See I have this ‘friend’ who was with me all throughout college. This ‘friend’ of mine, as I can describe him, is one of the most difficult yet most alluring personalities I’ve ever encountered. And by alluring I didn’t mean he had abs of steel. He had the slickest tongue I’ve ever witnessed. He has this piercing eye for details and his vocabulary consists mainly of cunt and all the words connected to it.

I fell for him. Somewhere along the way of friendship and games and jokes, I fell down and hit my head and realized that what we have was something else. He asked me once this question: “How do you see me?” and I answered him with this: “I think you’re my soul mate”. The thought haunted me. I had someone whom I believe is my one true love and ‘friend’ who I believe was meant to be my soul mate. We shared a lot of things together. We had so many moments I would never forget. He was my second heaven, he was partly my hero and my villain.

And the rest was a whirlwind of lust and friendship and feelings… stupid stupid feelings. To cut to the chase, he asked me to have sex with him. I declined, despite how sumptuous the offer seemed to me then. I declined because of my principles, I declined because I’m truly in love, I declined because I wasn’t convinced enough. But most of all, I declined because I know that after the bliss, there will be nothing left for the two of us. That, I would never want to happen.

I believe that to him, I was a tough challenge… A challenge he’s determined to win but he wasn’t convinced he can. I was comfort. I was a fallback. I’m a friend. But for the most part, I knew that for him I am a woman. I was, even before he witnessed me turning 18. I embody the woman in the book he’s been writing. I am the woman he pictures when he reads his romantic novels. And maybe, if I was for grabs he might do all he can to have me… but I’m not so convinced with the last part.

We both tried to stop. We were told that it’s for the better. But just like cocaine we knew it was hard. I tried hard to act cold, rigid, indestructible. He remained his true nature. Surreal, imminent like stone, hard, and grippingly sweet.

I was the first to give up. Well, I had to. Because by then I realized that maybe all of the aforementioned are dreams… fantasies of a writers mind. I convinced myself that it was all foreplay, and no intercourse. He never fell for me. But I fell hard for him.

After graduation we had a get together. He had a girlfriend, and I’m still with Patchieken. And Lunatica asked him this, “Minahal mo ba siya?” and this was his answer:

“Oo naman, bilang kaibigan!”

I smiled as I touched his hair, his head on my lap. Lunatica looked at me and asked me if I heard that. All I said was this:

“Oo, alam ko naman eh…”

I’ve never known boredom like this in my life…

Well, I guess this is the outcome of my decision to stick with the “something new” and “something fresh” kind of career. The thing is, when I chose to stick with the “airport-working-girl” image of me, I did not take a few details into consideration. Like:

(1) The salary (even if everyone warned me that it’s going to be like working at SM)

(2) The people (because I thought people resign either because of the aforementioned detail or the new opportunities they get)

(3) The workplace

(4) The distance of the workplace

(5) The work load/description

(6) The somewhat ‘inhumane’ working conditions (well, as compared to the others I knew about)

(7) The living conditions

(8) The relationships I might abandon

(9) My financial stability (which defines my ability to live alone apparently)

(10) The satisfaction I’m bound to get (which at this point is about less than 40%)

I smile all day at anyone I meet…

I keep bouncing off energy

I keep laughing out loud and talking much,

But at the end of the day, as I walk home, I feel being emptied by each step I take…

The house I come home to isn’t even a home. The family I see, I don’t even consider real friends. The people I consider friends, I can’t even stand being with for a long time.

And as I lie down in my bed, I turn on my ‘Emo Playlist’ and think about the things I have mentioned about.

That’s how life goes for me now.

Somehow lonely.

Somehow frustrated.

Somehow apathetic.

Somehow friendless.

Somehow penniless.

Somehow adult.

And maybe a few months from now, this would all change.

I know I would come to accept the fact that some things have to wait…

And that includes my many dreams in life…

But until then…

I saunter.

Ngayon ko lang nalaman na hindi lang pala baha, lindol at bagyo ang delubyo. Pati pala yung food posoning counted as delubyo na rin para sa isang grupong nagkukumahog magpasa ng AM Program Production para sa isang major subject. Akalain mo ’yun??? Dahil lang sa itlog na pula o Century Tuna (either of which ala na kong pakialam) limang tao ang bumagsak. Yung literal na bagsak ha. Ang cute cute talaga.

Halos sumpain na namin ang buong mundo. Paborito ko pa naman ’yun—ilog na pula—pagkatapos ganito pa nangyari sa amin?! Lahat kami bumagsak. Dahil sa itlog na pula, kamuntik nang hindi matapos yung AM Program namin, nagkandaletse-letse kami sa banyo nila Jaja, na-ospital ang 3 sa amin at higit sa lahat naloka kami ng bonggang bongga. Okay sige… for the sake of my readers ieexplain ko na.

Ang project namin for midterms sa isa sa mga major subjects ay isang AM Program. So todo excited naman kaming gawin ang project na ito. Sabi ni prof english daw. Wasak, AM Prod na English??? Sige nga mag-surf ka sa kahabaan ng AM Radio at maghanap ka ng station na english. Kahit ‘ata makarating ka ng Batanes wala kang maririnig na english. Korean siguro pwede, heheheh. So okay english na nga sumunod na lang kami dahil natakot din kami sa maaaring kalabasan ng grades namin. Pinlano na namin lahat ng detalyo ng program. Kuntodo timeline pa kami makatapos lang on time. Eto na ang pasahan, malapit na… hindi pa rin kumpleto ang mga balita. Kinailangan pa namin kumprontahin ang poging-poging friend namin na si PB dahil naapektuhan na ang timeline. Naiyak pa ko ng bonggang bongga. Hindi siya makatingin sa’kin sa sobrang drama ko… baka daw matawa siya hehehe joke! So okay na kami ano?! Come Thursday, walang kapaa-paalam akong nag-pack ng damit at essentials (madali pa ha) para sa overnight namin. Lumayas ako samin without knowing na suot-suot ko pa pala yung tsinelas pambahay ni mudrax. Kaya pala nangingiti yung mga tricycle druver sakin pagbaba ko sa may terminal ng tricyle. Badtrip. Pero dahil gipit na sa time, dumeretso na ako sa bahay nila Lunatica. Buti hindi sila nagalit pagdating ko hahaha.

lunch time. ang ulam ay Itlog na pula, sardinas at century tuna. Napansin naming malabnaw na yung century tuna—century na nga ata tlga ang tinagal nung tuna. ayun todo kain parin kme dahil gutom nga. Dumaan ang gabi at nagpatuloy ang pakikipagbuno namin sa pagod at antok. Eto na yung tito ni Lunatica—si Kuya Meljohn. Paborito ko to sa lahat ng tito at tita niya hahaha. Napakakulit nya. nag-inuman kame at binanatan kme ng general information. Puetk, ayaw tumigil sa pagdidiscuss ng Vatican, Federal Reserve, World Bank at marami pang iba. Masyado ata siyang napaniwala ni Nicholas Cage at Dan Brown hahahaha. Matapos ang mahabang kwento at isang bote ng The Bar salamat at tinantanan na niya ako. Pumasok ako sa loob at napansin na tumitindi na ang allergy ko (allergic ako sa lamig, ewan ko ba kung bakit pero sa tuwing cold season o kapag nasa isang malamig na lugar nangangati ako at bigla na lang loloba halatang batang kalye dahil di sanay sa aircon hahaha). Humingi ako kay Lunatica ng kumot at naupo sa tabi. for some reason, nangangatog ako… grabeng pangangatog. Dumating ang 6 ng umaga. Nagising na ang lola ni Lunatica. Nagdesisyon kmeng mamahinga muna. Pinagkasya namin ang sarili sa kama ng lola ni Lunatica. 4 kami, horizontal position hahahaha. So anyways about 7am, nakarinig ako ng nagsusuka. Akala ko tita ni Lunatica, si Ran pala. Tinanong ko kung okay siya, oo naman siya. Tulog ulit…

Pagkagising namin, pucha, napakasakit ng katawan ko. Tumayo ako pero kamuntik nang malaglag. Lahat ng parte ng katawan ko masakit, mainit ang hininga ko, pinilit kong kumuha ng tubig at uminom para marehydrate, sabi kasi sa nabasa ko sign ang pagkahilo at sakit ng ulo ng dehydration. So inum ako. Naupo ako sa sala nila Lunatica kung saan natutulog si PB at RJ. Nagising na ang lahat. Nalaman kong lahat pala sila ay masakit ang tiyan at nalaman nilang napakataas pala ng lagnat ko. Pinilit naming kumain ng pandesal, uminom ng mainit na tubig at uminom ng gamot tsaka kami natulog muli. Buti na lang at si kinaya pa ni Ize at Lunatica ang magedit ng first part ng project. Si PB naman pinunasan ako ng malamig na tuwalya pati na rin si RJ at Ran. Kuntodo alaga si PB, buti na lang at nandyan siya lalo’t nangungulila ako sa kaling noong mga panahong iyon. May kasama pang hug ang alaga niya, wow naman hahaha.

Lunch time ulit, careful na kaming huwag kumain ng delata. pinilit naming kumain kahit na nangangananib ang kalusugan at project namin. Nagpray kami kay Lord na sana tulungan Niya kami. Si Ize, umiiyak na habang kumakain. tumuloy ang paghihirap habang tinutuloy ni PB ang project. Si Ize hindi kinaya at umuwi na sa kanila. Kinagabihan dumating ang daddy ko para sunduin ako, yumakap ako agad at sinabing: “Daddy, nagtatae ako” sabay hawak sa tiyan. Naalala ko tuloy yung mga panahong tinatakbo ako sa ospital ni daddy dahil sa ulcer. Thank God for fathers hehehe isinabay namin sila RJ, Ran at PB at ang mabuti kong ama hinatid pa sila hanggang provincial.

Sumunod na araw binalita sa amin na nasa ospital si Lunatica at nadiagnose ng ameobiasis (tama ba spelling?! mali ata) samantalang kami ni Ize ay Acute Gastroenteritis. Weird pero sige bahala ka na doc hahaha

So kahit humihilab pa ang tiyan pumasok kami ni Ize noong Lunes para ipasa ang p**erarat na project. Pinaprint nmin ang script. pucha walang time… nabasag ang cd case, hindi namin natapos ang script, nasira ang planong pagco-cover sa CD, at higit sa lahat… napagsaraduhan kami ng faculty. Pucha… hindi naipasa ang p**erarat na project. haaay

sumunod na araw pumasok ulit si Ize para magpasa…

Okay na ang lahat

at matapos ang sigalot nalaman naming dalawa pala ang naipasang project…

astig, nagpasa din kasi si PB

ayun, mula noon sinumpa na namin ang itlog na pula’t century tuna

*Sigh*

nakakatawa talaga…

I thought that being a teacher would help me achieve my vision to bring a simple yet valuable impact in the lives of others. I should know, because I’m a product of two math teachers. Education brought me into this world; it fed me and helped me become me. My whole existence mirrored a teacher’s impact to the society, into the future and to the lives of the most successful people on earth. I was able to study in a prestigious Catholic school without having to spend much on books and fees. I was never ill treated for my father is the most loyal and most trusted member of the academe. My schoolmates looked up to me and my teachers expected a lot from me.

For years, I was nannied by Mommy’s female students whose faces I do not even remember now. Our flowerhorns, Marlin and Dory, and even our seven Kois and orange Janitor Fish (whose names change every so often) enjoyed free or discounted food from a pet shop owner who was also taught by my father. I watched in shock as my mother marked my gay friend’s card with a red pen. Then I heard that a doctor visited Daddy when he was undergoing radiation therapy for his cancer. It turns out that the doctor, who was working in the same hospital, was my father’s student years ago in a 5^th grade Science class. Everywhere we go, we find people who, at some point in their lives, have received valuable learnings from my parents which helped them achieve their success.

In my opinion (I’m speaking as a student here of course), there are two types of teachers in the world. First are those who shower us with knowledge who aids us in coping with life in the most graceful way possible. She could be your kindergarten teacher who taught you how to read and helped you hold your pencil properly. He could be your Statistics professor who gives all the formula needed for the whole exam or the swimming coach who ensures that the water is high enough before you dive in so that you don’t lose your head in the process. He could also be the professor who goes around the campus to find your class a room conducive for learning because the campus isn’t enough for 24,000 students. They teach you all the things that you’re supposed to know because you’ll be needing those in your chosen field without making it too hard for you to handle and more often than not, you love them.

The second type of teacher leaves you wisdom which helped you see reality in such a way that you’d have to go through a ring of fire. It could be your elementary madam who hits you with a stick whenever you forget to cut your fingernails. She could be the teacher who demanded that you color all the body parts and draw all the animals in the forest. Maybe he’s the professor who refuses to let you speak in Filipino during his class, making you spill buckets of liquid when you recite. She could be the official who reprimanded you for breaking the rules of the university or the teacher who would not entertain your ideas just because of her personal frustrations in life. They teach you the things that are not included in your curriculum but are actually more important than your lectures for these are the lessons which would shape your life no matter what field you are in. They impart experience beyond monetary capacity by demanding a lot from you all though most of the time, they were hated.

I’d have to say my mom would most probably fall on the first category while my dad could go into the second. And yeah, maybe a lot of my teachers could go to the 2^nd as well. Let’s admit it, our lives have become both hellish and interesting since we started schooling. We’ve discovered stress and cramming and the endless, sleepless nights of project making. I have learned that it is possible to create two dokyus in 3 weeks time just as long as we keep the coffee coming when we sleep over classmates’ houses. I learned that when a teacher says ‘no’ it means ‘shut the hell up’; and that when they say ‘yes’ you better thank the gods for that. I learned that some teachers prefer smart students; some favor those who give efforts in everything they do despite the fact that they’re not academically good; while some like dumb learners who would believe everything they say even if they really have no idea what they’re talking about.

In one of Paolo Coelho’s novels, he said there are little difference between a teacher and his disciple. Authority aside, the only difference between them is that a teacher has more courage than his disciple. He has the nerve to learn more even if it means that he has to risk something important. He braves the difficult days as an educator without thinking about the graces he’s bound to receive afterwards. And I realized, while watching Susan Roces in May Bukas Pa, that being a teacher is one of the hardest jobs in history. They may have been spending their whole lives switching rooms, getting to know students, talking all day long and giving out assignments but those are much more easier said than done (I know, I’ve been a student teacher when I was in highschool). We spend 2/3 of our days inside classrooms making us more exposed to learning from our teachers more than our parents (in my case, it works both ways).

Yeah, maybe some of them are really hard to deal with—okay most of them. But then again, a few years after graduating you’d see them somewhere and realize that if it wasn’t for them you wouldn’t be exactly who you are right now. They did made you cry, they did humiliate you, they did make you wish the earth could swallow you whole, but then that’s what learning is about. It’s about experience more than lectures, about ‘finding out’ more than ‘just knowing’. You may be suffering now from 5 projects and a thesis but 5 years after graduation you’d end up earning for a living. One day, you might find yourself in the hospital realizing that you just met your 1^st year professor in a wheelchair and asking her about her breast cancer. That’s when you know that you did learn.

Let me share to you a movie I recently viewed. It was a film inspired from the true-to-life story of a man named Pierre Dulaine, who became the reason for the inclusion of ballroom dancing in thousands of curricula all over United States. The film, starred by my dad’s favorite action star—Antonio Banderas—stages the saga of Mr Dulaine’s attempt to teach a bunch of troubled students the art of ballroom dancing while in detention despite the cynicisms of the whole school community. In order to motivate the rebel students, who do not accept that his classical moves are as cool as hip-hop dancing, Mr. D tried mixing their hip music and spunk with standard ballroom steps which then gained a lot of disapproval yet led to a working rapport inside the detention room. Towing his newfound friends with him into the dance floor, he imparts a lesson on teamwork, trust, dignity and respect. The movie was good not only because it presented Banderas as a dancer and not an action star for the first time, but also because of its captivating title: “Take the Lead”

It was through this that I became aware of my current condition; I realized that I am one of those who are expected to set the pace and take the lead. I vaguely remember the day when I finally convinced some of my friends to run for the editorial board of the publication we are in. When our mentors moved out and graduated, we suddenly felt alarmed, as we understood that we are all too young and too incompetent to be given such responsibility. Disheartened, my dear friends planned making a run for safety. But I remained firm to my goal to reach higher position; not because I wanted it but because there is this tiny spark of faith inside me, despite all of the worries and doubts I feel all around me, that I can do something for the publication which I consider home. Well, it might have been my encouraging words or my continuous persuasion that made my friends take the examination with me; whatever it was, I’m still glad we all made it because four of us inside this room became the section editors of the said publication.

No matter how optimistic I am, however, I still have to agree with the mass… we are, indeed, in the midst of crisis. A crisis neither our parents nor our brothers can conquer for we are both the victim and the liability… we are both the host and the prey. And no matter how I try putting a prism before my eyes to distort the images into colorful rainbows, I must admit that there are still times when I just have to be realistic. With the dwindling quality of life and the uncontrollable price hikes, what can the young Juan dela Cruz do?

Economist E.F. Schumacha once said that “Small is beautiful,” and in agreement I must say that small steps are not only beautiful but also effective and resilient. How many smiles does a little baby’s first step bring? How many wishes does a tiny shooting star gather? How much does a second of life cost? Oftentimes, the littlest of things are the most important ones. And in taking the lead, one doesn’t have to have huge strides. Yes, we are indeed small and weak, dependent and young… but this doesn’t mean that we do not play an important role in our society… because in the midst of the glaring reality and the hazy future, we serve as that tiny flicker of hope in the eyes of the adult world.

Taking the lead doesn’t necessarily mean that we should march into the streets screaming out our disappointments in the country’s putrid system. Taking the lead doesn’t connote a fight for democracy by using our young blood and little hands. All of us—young or old—can take the lead by just believing in democracy, donning it into our lives and making it happen; by simply opening our eyes, minds and senses to the reality surrounding us; by being productive in the best yet simplest way possible; by performing our responsibilities as a student, peer to our friends, model to the progeny, son or daughter to our parents and brother or sister to our siblings. We can take the lead by knowing our rights and standing up for it; by expressing your thoughts and opinions responsibly; by hoping and believing even if nobody else believes. Taking the lead means taking a chance for the betterment of the majority. It requires us to observe when the others won’t; to listen when everyone else prefers to talk; to think the way other people dare not to think; to go where the current won’t go; to speak words that others dare not say; and to act the way others do not dare.

Taking the lead is a matter of trying something new—something big—regardless of what other people might say… not because you just wanted it… but because you saw the need to do it. Taking the lead isn’t just about being brave but being courageous; it isn’t just about being correct but being upright; not just about being honest but being real.

So let me end my speech with this question addressed to each and everyone present today, would you dare to take the lead?

Thank you and good day!

A speech I made and recited for our Broadcasting class a year ago