NOTHING

Nothing.

Not a word, not a thought.

I look deep down and see a big, fat, vast, nothing.

Nothing.

What I really wish for right now

I remember it was cold but it wasn't raining. Dark puffs of clouds were looming over the vast skies and most of my companions were feeling lethargic all of a sudden. I heard one of them wishing for the rain not to pour and I silently prayed for the same thing. I didn't want it to rain. I didn't want the rain to dampen the grass. That would only spoil my plans of lying flat on my back on the field while forming animal figures out of the clouds. But I didn't want it to be sunny either. I just want the clouds, and the gloom they bring.

It was a couple of minutes after seven in the morning. We had all showered. Everyone had put their coats on. It was cold which was just natural since we were on the mountains, not really on top but let's just say, we were on a higher ground; somewhere elevated. I was comfortably watching my classmates as we were having breakfast. I see a classmate who was a close friend of mine seated on the table which was situated next to the railing of that small cottage where we were all having our meals and from where I was, I saw that he had a beautiful view of the road, of the gorgeous flowers, and of the hills that looked so divine as they were being kissed by the meager light coming from the sun.

I envied him. In fact, I wanted to trade places with him right at that moment.

I took a last sip of my Tamarind juice which tasted really weird to me and then I stood, knowing that we won't be spending another night in that place, I took the liberty to stroll around and see the place. I went alone, I had close friends in class but I wanted to go, all by myself.

I slowly walked out of the cottage and ventured at the back, I saw some classmates of mine talking to each other, I think gossiping is the word actually. I smiled as I saw some of them trying so hard to act like adults. Not that I see anything wrong about acting that way but, well, we were all minors. Some of us were barely 16 and yet, there they were, already at the rush of becoming adults. A stage which I sometimes dread.

I walked passed through them, until I reached the back then Lo and behold!

I saw the most beautiful meadow I've ever seen in my whole life. The grass was perfectly green and well-trimmed. Flowers in varied sizes and colors were all aligned in the sides. Butterflies flew across the meadow, flaunting their beautiful wings. A number of my classmates were taking photos and I could have joined them but there I was, standing on that meadow, my mouth slightly opened in awe. Just at the end of the meadow, were the wooden gates and just beyond the wooden gates was a bigger field and at the end of it, stood a mountain.

It was a bit foggy and I didn't have glasses but I knew, everything I laid my eyes on was beautiful.

I stood their longer, just watching the whole picture and I could only wish I could stay there. Suddenly, I forgot about college and my aspirations after school. Suddenly, I forgot about Trigonometry, Statistics, Bookkeeping and Physics. Suddenly, I forgot about my sadness, my anxiety, my fears, heartaches and pain.

Suddenly, I forgot about everything. The whole beauty of my surroundings took my breath away and I was at peace. The entire scenery took me, and I let go.

It felt so good. But only for a while... Moments after, I heard the noise again. My classmates' boisterous laughter, my teachers' irritated voice, the swift motion of buses and cars passing by. I came back to the world which I would have gladly vacated. I tried to move my body and make my toes walk back to the hall where the talks were being given. I managed to walk but then I looked back at everything and tried to paint the beautiful picture in my mind, just in case I'd need it someday.

Soon enough, I knew we'll leave the place. I never thought however, that three years after, I'd be wanting to go back.

Until then

"Invest on your attitude.."

This was one advice given by our Rizal teacher before she ended today's meeting. She said all of us are smart and all of us have skills but in the end, only few of us would make it to the top because not everyone of us has the attitude. I pondered on what she said and I realized, I am guilty of not investing much on my attitude.

I am comfortable at being mediocre, accustomed to going to my classes, always, a couple of minutes late and used to just choosing to stay within my comfort zone. And of course, we all know what happens when we stay within our limits, not one good thing happens, NOTHING happens.

She kept on talking even when she knew not everyone of us was listening. But not everyone wasn't listening, though. Because I was.

I don't know why I'm always emotional after attending the last few meetings of my classes. I may be a lazy student and I know I pretend like I don't care most of the time but really, I learned a lot this semester. I admire most of my teachers but only few of them could really see through my 'I-DON'T-CARE-ABOUT-GRADES attitude.

To my teacher who never fails to remind us to be better individuals and Filipinos every meeting,

until I sit in your class again. ^_^

On a cold night

26^th, September 2011

11:29pm

The rain is pouring really hard. I went downstairs to take a bath but the cold made me decide to just brush my teeth and wash up a bit without really wetting my entire body. Call me a goat if you want to but, it’s really just so chilly tonight.

I would have turned off my light had I not realized that with this kind of fear I have in my heart right now, I wouldn’t be able to sleep immediately. So instead of spending hours wide awake on my bed and in the dark, I thought that maybe I could ooze my fears out by typing them in here.

So it’s been like what, a week? A week since I first felt it. That hard, freaky thing I have in my left breast.

I asked several people I know if there’s a possibility that this is cancer but all they could tell me are words of comfort. They tell me this might just be nothing, they tell me they know someone who has this too but it wasn’t really cancer.. blablablablabla.

Those people who try to comfort me are the people whom I call my friends but I don’t really feel consoled. I wish they are right, that this is just nothing but I can’t seem to have peace. And the whole time, I try to ask myself what those people would do if I really have the Big C. Would they be sad, would they feel sorry for me, would they hate the heavens for inflicting me with such agony? Would they cry for me?

 I don’t know. And I guess, I am now undergoing that phase in life where you get to doubt the kind of affection your friends have for you.

But I don’t really care if they won’t cry for me because I am hoping no one’s going to die at a young age anyway. I am hoping I’d live. Oh gawsh. Now I’m being a total paranoid here but, can you blame me?

It’s cold. I just had dinner alone. The rain is so depressing and worst of all, I still have this lump on my chest.

I pray to Daddy Lord that even before I had this checked by a physician, the lump is already gone. Benign or malignant, I don’t want this lump.

I don’t want any reason to worry about dying so early. I just want to focus on the things that I have to work on in school and I have a lot, mind you.

Right now, what I’m truly wishing for is my mother telling me all will be well. My mother telling me that I am not sick and even if I am, she’ll be there to help me stay strong and fight off whatever disease I have.

Maybe that is just it. I just want someone who could make me feel that he/she really worries about me. Someone who can feel the same fear that I have; me fearing that I’d lose my life and him/ her fearing that he/she will lose me.

And that reminds me, just when I opened my laptop a few minutes ago… I saw the photos I’ve had with Elpijay and I felt sad even more.

Goodness. I have so many plans, so many dreams. I know I sort of stop believing in dreams for quite some time but there are still those dreams which I have kept somewhere in the corners of my heart, hoping that I could still make use of them when the time comes that I have enough strength to dream again.

Seeing those photos reminds me of that dream I’ve hold on to for so long. That dream of going home to a home (not just a house) where my loving husband waits for me and that no matter how bad my day was, he could make everything okay.

How beautiful would that be.

I promised myself I will never make the same mistakes my parents did. I’ll never go wrong in choosing the person I’d love. But why is it that I feel like I am dying already? What about my dreams, my aspirations in life? Would I just leave them in this world?

And what about Elpijay, my best friend and probably the only person in this world who truly cares for me and understands my pain, would I leave him too?

I can’t imagine leaving my best friend that way. I even told myself once, “Someday, I’m gonna marry that guy.”

But if this lump on my chest is really something, what would I do then? Videotape my birthday, Christmas, and Valentine’s day messages for all the people close to me?

Dear Lord, I am so scared. Please, let this be nothing. Please.

.....And it’s not raining that hard anymore. Might as well go to sleep.

END- 12:01am, 9/27/11

How different can we be?

I remember the first time I tried to work on my column for the next issue of the newspaper, it was two weeks ago. And for two weeks, I’ve been trying to open the document that I have saved in my laptop but all I ever really did was stare at the blinking cursor, tire my eyes, type a few sentences and then delete them.

I don’t understand why suddenly, I don’t know what to say, let alone what to think.

I just am not in touch with my emotions anymore. I am now equivalent to a book with empty pages, a bucket without water, a body without soul.

I wanted so bad to identify the root of this sudden numbness and that’s when I figured out that for quite some time, I’ve seen and heard much from my surroundings and my little brain has had enough. My little heart has felt so much, I am now disillusioned.

My thoughts may be hazy but there are a couple of faces I’ve seen not too long ago that seem to haunt me.

Pepe’s eyes

I remember my trip to Iloilo about two months ago. I left the city along with my fellow student writers early in the morning and on my way to the port, I chanced upon a young boy who was carrying his younger sister on his back while holding out a rusty can to passersby. I wondered if he and his sister have had breakfast but I didn’t bother to ask. When I got to Iloilo, I saw another kid whom I thought looked so much like the boy I passed by at the port. I looked closely but then I realized that they don’t actually look alike, they just have the same history of hunger written in their eyes. I knew I’ll eventually just forget about those kids, and I did. But only for a while.

Tatay Ben

He is an old man who first worked as gardener in the high school I went to but then he got sick and for some time, I didn’t see him. When I got to college, that’s when I saw him in the university where I go, picking plastic bottles from the garbage cans around the campus. When he retired, he was given an amount of money as retirement fee. This would have been a great help for Tatay Ben had a relative of his not tricked him and stolen his money. The last time I saw him, he was standing outside the second gate, I found out he is only allowed to enter the campus to attend the morning mass but he is not allowed to linger after some people reported to the school administration that he’s been begging money from students. Now, this is something that I couldn't really seem to accept as a fact for I am a 'friend' to the old man and yet he doesn't even asks for anything from me, so why would he from the others? And if indeed he is begging, and though mendicacy laws disallow us to give alms to, well, of course, mendicants, I however understand that for someone like him who does not have a family of his own and who is too old and sickly to be accepted even as a gardener somewhere, begging might be a more convenient resort.

The Innocent Bek-Bek

She is this carefree, bubbly, and ‘eternally innocent’ lady who can sometimes be seen begging money or playing with younger children in the streets near the University. She was featured in one of the school publication's magazine issues years back. Just reading about her, I thought she is the kind who will someday just grow old physically but would always remain a child by heart forever. 

Bek-Bek happens to manifest a certain delusion of grandeur. She believes herself to be a student of a prestigious university in the city, has several kids and is currently pregnant. She is usually the butt of jokes of passers by who have already considered her as nothing more than a laughing stock. It's a good thing that despite every insult and mockery she gets from people, our Bek-Bek is still strong enough to defend herself. 

But the point is, she is sick and due to her status in the society, she will remain as nothing more but an amusement for many of us who fail to see the rub beyond the joke. 

________________________________________________________________________________

True enough.

Three stories of unknown struggles and three faces of people that represent the sad realities suffered by many other little Pepes who can barely eat one meal a day, many other Tatay Bens who grow old without anyone to take care of them, and many other Bek-Beks whose ignorance serve as amusement for the mean ones.

Now, we could all just pretend these people don’t exist and go on living our lives. But if we do, how different can we be from those crocodiles in the government who enjoy comfort, power and prestige while millions of people starve every day?

For a cleaner air

After months of enduring the sight of cobwebs on my ceiling, dusts on my bookshelves and all sorts of garbage on top of my drawers and at the back of my door or just anywhere in my room, I finally decided to get rid of all the crap I've hoarded for months of  being a sloth. 

Oh. It felt so nice sleeping on clean bedsheets and laying my sleepy head on clean pillow cases. Whoa. It may be embarrassing for a young lady like me to admit it but, well, yes. I have lived in a totally untidy, dusty, trashy bedroom for months now. I tried to count in my head and I couldn't even type the exact number of weeks (months to be honest) that had passed since the last time I held a broom and swept my floor. 

My fan looked really ancient with all the dust it accumulated. My shelves seemed like it was built way back in the Japanese era. And my floor, well I don't even want to tell you how it felt walking on it barefooted. 

The last weekend was two days longer and though I've been thinking of cleaning my room since Friday, I ended up cleaning, sweeping, wiping and sneezing the dust off every part of my room instead of studying last night.

Lol. 

A lower score in exchange of a clean and tidy room? It may sound impractical but really, I think I'm glad I cleaned my room instead. At least, I could now study, and breathe a fresher air. 

My Achilles' Heel

My Achilles' Heel
It is that memory
That I buried
A thousand feet under
My so called intangible thoughts

My Achilles' Heel
It is that portrait
That I have painted
Black and white
Concealed by my towering pride

My Achilles' Heel
It is that word
That I dare not utter
A word so warm yet so cold
Eradicated from my vocabulary

My Achilles' Heel
It is your name
A word I dare not utter
Vanished from my memory
Forever.

Guilt trip

The things and people that I value before, I don't value anymore.

I received a text message from a friend who seemed to be obliging me to go with her as she visits my school. I read the message again after I got to the bottom of it but, it sounded the same. I can't seem to explain why I was annoyed all of a sudden but, as soon as I acknowledged the emotion, I felt the guilt. I thought, how is it possible for me to feel that way when it was my 'friend' who sent the message.

Well, it meant only one thing: I've changed, A LOT.

Somehow, I am not totally pleased with the changes I have acquired but once I begin to recall what I had to give up, how hard I had to try, and how much I had to go through before I became who and what I am today,  I could only wish that all those sacrifices would do nothing but good to me.

I keep on telling myself that it's normal, that everybody goes through this phase but, really, is there anyone out there who was irritated by his or her friend only because he or she wasn't at all amused with his or her friend's way of speaking to him or her through text?

Sigh.

I am trying so hard to be good at every role I play in life but, it seems that it doesn't anymore include me being.......... a FRIEND. :/

What seems to be a Cliche

4^th, August 2011

Thursday, 9:11pm

I retreated to my room right after dinner. Taking off my uniform and changing into some comfortable home clothes, I let myself feel the homey vibes radiated by my room. It may not be as tidy as it used to be but the perfect square, unusually messed up, and unsurprisingly girly space is the only sanctuary I have in this world which I consider as a perilous battlefield. In this room, I am queen. I do what I want, when I want and how I want it. So as I plunge into the alluring softness of my bed, I didn’t worry that I probably looked awful with my face distorted into a frown or that my body looked perfectly round with the numerous folds stuck in my belly.

What bothered me is that all of a sudden, I wish I was somewhere else with some loud, fun-loving companions who could make the noise inside me die down. Sigh. Now think about that. The whole day, you keep on dreaming for that time that you’d be all by yourself and when the moment of solitude comes, you just want to run away because along with solitude, are the memories.

Lying flat on your stomach, you feel lonely. You remember that in a few weeks, it would be your birthday again. It should excite you, but the thought of it makes you feel otherwise. The thought of your upcoming birthday makes you remember all your other birthdays where your mom bought you the most beautiful birthday dresses and invites almost everyone she knows and yet the only person who would have made everything else more meaningful and happy wasn’t there.

The thought of your birthday makes you remember that birthday of yours when you should have danced with him, and yet you hadn’t, because he wasn’t there.

And you try to remember that only birthday of yours that he was around. You didn’t have a celebration, you even cried, because he scolded you and you try to remember why. But it was so long ago, and you just can’t vividly remember anymore…. You dig deep into your heart and search for that memory, that one precious memory. You search for anything about it that could help you feel better. But you find nothing.

Suddenly, you realized, you’re a big girl.

Birthdays should mean nothing to you anymore. It should mean nothing but a date that marks the start of your existence in this world. 

Is it really promising?

This was what I wrote for the Column Writing competition of the Philippine Information Agency Basic Journalism Seminar at Iloilo City about a week ago. All details were only based on what I had in mind, on what I have already heard even before we came to the event and not on research. Heck! We didn't have enough time. But, anyhow.. This was promising, or at least they thought at that time.

Hodgepodge

Now who’s the Boss?

By Coleen Edrea F. Ematong

He rallied the nation with his battle cry “Kung walang kurap, walang mahirap” during the May 2010 elections over a year ago. He seemed so determined to get rid of the existing crocodiles and pigs that fed on the funds of the government. He had organized a Truth Commission, uprooted a bunch of government officials and replaced them with those people whom he trust, went out of his car along a busy street in New York to buy hotdog, and implemented the Wang-Wang Policy which is among the most mentioned word (or is it even a word?) in his entire speech. It’s been a year however, and reading his prepared speech for his second State Of the Nation Address (SONA) last July 25, I can say that he hasn’t learned much in his first term of service.

President Benigno Simeon Aquino III (PNOY) said that his critics are right, for him, eliminating the corrupt government officials is indeed personal. I admire the president for having said it but, then again, I couldn’t help myself from remembering the promise he made in front of many excited Filipinos who watched his inauguration as president a year ago. He said that the people are his BOSS. But by the looks of it, he is his own boss.

On the same day of his SONA, student activists and various rally groups all gathered to protest about the budget cuts and deprivation of ‘quality’ education from a number of Filipino youths. League of Filipino Students (LFS) activist Patz Ombion even shared that instead of doing something about the state of education here in the country, the government under the reign of PNOY even allowed budget cuts which is the decrease of the budget given to non-performing (low performing) State Universities and Colleges (SUCs) to increase the budget of those performing (high performing) SUCs.

If we think about it, this budget cuts is totally unfair because every Filipino has a right to quality education and decreasing the budgets of schools that are considered non-performing isn’t really the best way to make this nation a nation of well-educated and able people.

I may be one of those who stood up for PNOY during his campaign for presidency but I must say that he has forgotten about us, being his boss just as quick as the year went by. And as I watch more youths quit school, I could only ask silently, now, who’s the Boss?

*****

The controversy about the church being one big corrupt institution took its roots right from the time when the country’s national hero Dr. Jose Rizal was writing his first two novels. Even I, though brought up by religious grand-parents never really doubted that there is corruption in the church. However, dropping the bomb about the donated cars and Philippine Charity Sweepstakes Office (PCSO) anomalies right at the time when the religious leaders of the Catholic Church are very firm in going against the proposed RH Bill is obviously a diversion tactic of those politicians who thought of embarrassing the bishops to make the people see that their ‘beloved’ priests are nothing but imperfect as well.

Seriously, could there be anything lamer than what they thought of?

Exposing the flaws of those bishops who, in their despair, accepted and even asked for cars from the government because they really need it in their ministry anyway did nothing but only show that nobody in this messed up world is perfect. There are only those who could commit a mistake out of need and those who could deliberately do wrong things out of want.

But just like what Sen. Miriam Defensor- Santiago said during the Senate probe on the involvement of the bishops on the PCSO anomalies, “KEEP THE BISHOPS OUT OF IT!”

*****

I live somewhere in the east of Bacolod so I don’t frequently pass by the road where the first ever skyway in the city is being built. But when I passed by that road on my way to our publication’s printing press, I was appalled. Had I not seen the skyways built in Manila and Iloilo, I would probably just admire the infrastructure but sadly, that’s not exactly what happened.

With the length of the skyway, it seemed to me that the traffic would only be minimized at one end of the skyway since private and other smaller vehicles would pass by the infrastructure only to face a much worse traffic at the other end. If its length was made to reach from the Ramos intersection and end just beyond the factory of Pepsi Cola, it would probably be of help lessening the road congestion. However, by the looks of it, this skyway is only another not-so-useful-infrastructure-built-for-the-sake-of-building.

It won’t really do much help with the traffic but, it did help politicians in showing the people where funds go: to some crappy skyway, where else do you think?

*****

The College of Engineering Society has recently launched their Zero Styro project which aims to lessen trashed styrofoam in the school campus by encouraging students to have their food eaten in the foodcourt instead of taking them out and having to place them in a food container which is of course, made of styrofoam. Engineering Society president Rupert Simeon also suggested that if the students really don’t want to eat inside the foodcourt, they could still take their food out even when placed on plates and then just go back afterwards to return them.

I was very much willing to support this project so as I paid for my lunch, I instructed the lady in the food stall not to place my food in the Styrofoam anymore. I was proud of myself at that instant but when afternoon came, I chanced upon the trash bin near our publication’s office and saw just how full the bins were. I was upset.

I know everyone of us has principles and each of us has the right to choose whether we should support a particular project of some school organizations or not. But then again, this Zero Styro is not just ‘another’ project. It is a step being taken by its proponents to somehow help in saving the environment and if not, at least slow down its destruction.

Seriously, would this feat really be too hard for us to do?

After all, saving our environment is not just an advocacy; rather, it is everyone’s moral responsibility.

Flash backs

I was just there.. Lying on the couch, curved into a ball, hugging myself because it was darn cold in the office. I was trying to sleep but I couldn't seem to fall asleep, I blame the strawberry milkshake I drank at lunch. I tried so hard to ignore the noise produced by the people in the office and closed my eyes. But then I realized, it wasn't even that noisy really, perhaps, I was hearing a different noise. It was like a hard rock melody that's been playing for so long and no matter what I try to do, I couldn't seem to shut it off.

It was coming from within. Like a bomb on the trigger I couldn't seem to put a stop to.

I close my eyes and though there are lots of happier memories I could think about, I just don't understand why it is that memory that keeps on flashing back into my mind. That memory, so distinct and excruciating.

I got up abruptly, not wanting to drown myself into those memories again.

I got work to do.

Just trying to write

I call myself a writer, sometimes, a journalist (a student journalist to be exact) but most of the time, I don't think I should tag myself these. I am just another dot in a a group of sentences, another kernel in a corn, another leaf in a tree... I am a NOBODY.

But don't get me wrong. I am not sulking in self-pity, neither am I trying to get people's sympathy.. Really, I don't need that. I just thought that, maybe I should remember who I am, realize what I am and how I should be. About a week ago, I went to Iloilo for the Philippine Information Agency Basic Journalism Seminar along with four other members of the Publication where I spend most of my mental energy. We went there and won a few awards, ugh! Now this is sort of bragging already.

Anyway, moving on.. We were supposed to get back to Bacolod by Saturday but there was this retreat that I had to go to a day before so I had to go back ahead of the others just to be in the city in time for the retreat. It was great, being in two places in a very short while. I felt drained as soon as I laid my back on my bed after the retreat though.

And now that I am back to reality, I can't seem to figure out which to do first. Sigh.

Just one of those days. Just one of thooose days.

I'd rather

I'd rather come across people in suit and tie than see those who wear tattered clothes and mismatched slippers.

I'd rather have someone tell me his tummy's aching due to excessive eating than see a kid or an old man beg along the streets. 

I'd rather see somebody throw leftovers than witness somebody else pick it up to so he could eat it. 

I'd rather listen to an arrogant, rich kid than hear the sentiments of somebody who hasn't eaten for days because honestly, I'd rather feel hate than feel pity. 

A Secret Wish

20^th, June 2011

1:58am

It’s been about two hours past Fathers’ Day. And the whole 24 hours passed without me greeting him at all. Not even one tiny smiley from me to him to make him feel that somehow, my anger had subsided. I couldn’t make him think that way, it’s not me to make people believe something that is not true. Honestly, I am not at all affected à lie. I am not feeling bad at the thought that he might be very lonely right now because I didn’t even bother to greet him Happy Fathers’ Day, just like how I pretended not to remember his birthday àanother lie.

Alright. So I’m in denial. But if you were me, what would you do? Seriously, being in denial, pretending not to care and ignoring the pain keep me from losing my sanity these days. Being in denial keeps my foundation intact. Without this particular coping mechanism, I don’t know where I’d be right now. 

It’s been months since they left, months since I had my first ever emotional breakdown because I felt like my entire family hated me for hating him and his woman. Of course, they still think worse of me until now, which is also among the many reasons why I couldn’t seem to forgive him… them. 

My grandmother, that little woman who- despite all the painful words she’d spoken to me- is just so dear to me, kept on telling me to forgive him. But sometimes, I pretty much want to just yell at her, cry right in front of her and ask her what she knows about forgiveness. Ah! Most people never really grasp the fact that forgiveness is among the many things in the world that is easy to ask for but is just so difficult to give.

But well, it’s been months. Somehow, I’ve already picked up the pieces of my shattered self. It was hard, but I didn’t have a choice. I think the easiest things to get done are those that leave you with no choice at all but to have it done.

I still get mad, but the anger doesn’t anymore show. I still cry, but the tears are less than there was before.

I’ve learned to just step on the broken pieces of everything that was ruined by my anger. I stepped on those broken pieces and walked on them. It hurt but I kept walking, to where I am right now. I haven’t gotten that far yet, but I’m trying hard to leave that ugly island of resentment behind.

Thinking about the past five months of my life while listening to Tim Mcgraw’s “My Little Girl” and Bob Carlisle’s “Butterfly Kisses” over and over again, I find myself all the more sad.

It may have been five months, I’ve been through hell but the wounds are still fresh and the pain keeps on coming back.

But despite everything, I would lie to myself if I would say that I don’t miss him. Because I do, a lot.

And if there’s one thing, just one thing that I would wish for right now, that would be for me to go back to when I was five years old. Back to those days when I get to ride on his back on our way home from that resort where he used to teach little kids to swim, back to those days when we watch cartoons late at night and he makes pineapple or pomelo juice for me. Back to those times when he brings me to the mountains, makes me a swing between banana trees and watches me play in the river. Back to those times when he brings me to school and fetches me when school’s over. Back to those times when I was his little girl…. Back to those times.

I never wanted to be this mad at him, but I’ve been hurt too much.

And as much as I wanted to be back into those days, I just know that life doesn’t have a timeline where anyone could just go back to whatever time they would want to go back to. And my wish of being his little girl again, would just remain a secret…. Forever.

The Zagu Crew

It's La Salle's 100th year in the Philippines today.

Of course, it's a really big celebration. The kind that involves various beats of music, lots of food, crowds, queuing at the Discipline Office, Bands, and Fireworks display. 

I've spent most hours of the day inside the office, I can't seem to stay out of the office for more than five minutes, I could and would have wanted to if only it wasn't too hot outside. Well, blame global warming then. I did cover some events somehow but mostly, I've been facing my computer, strumming the guitar and well, eating the food given by Dean of Student Affairs Mr. Andrei Tagamolila. I don't know why but my respect for that man only grows as months pass. 

Anyway, going back.. I ate a lot during lunch and three hours after, I didn't resist the urge of buying a cup of Zagu. You know, it's this cool drink that has sago in it. And so I went to Zagu's booth just outside the Coliseum lobby and bought my own cup. As always, it's Choco Caramel, Regular. 

I watched the crew do their job and I stared at the face of the guy who took my order. He looked like he was somewhere between 20-28 years old. He had this kind of face that WON'T and  can never will launch a thousand battle ships. He had this worried expression, he checked the amount of flavoring powder a couple of times, checked the amount of ice he dropped into the blender once more before he hit the button and made sure that he gave me just two sheets of tissue and a straw. 

I'm not certain if, while reading this, some of you would find him awkward because, honestly, I did. 

I mean, was he some OC guy who couldn't even look his customer in the eye? 

I would have laughed but, then, I thought.. what if being a Zagu crew is his first job in his whole life or maybe, it's his first job after years of screwing his life. What if he wasn't able to get a college degree because he didn't have the resources to do so. What if he has a kid at home and his wife couldn't find a job because she hasn't gone to college as well. What if he's the eldest in their family and he's the only one working because his father is sick and his mom is too old to do people's laundry? What if he has a younger sister or brother who has a kidney cancer and working as a Zagu crew is the only way he could earn, and the moment he receives his salary, he only holds the money for a day and divides however small the amount is to his sister's medicine, their family's food (which by the way is not even considered as food by many of us who only eat pasta and bacon) and of course, electricity bill, if they even manage to buy one fluorescent light to light up their entire home at night. 

What if one of those WHAT IFs is true? Then I guess it was just right that I didn't laugh because that man,   that Zagu crew, has all the reasons to make sure he's doing everything about his job right. 

He gave me my cup of Zagu without making eye contact. He was smiling sheepishly at another girl who was buying Zagu as I was walking away from their booth. "Ano imo Ma'am," I heard him say.

I looked back and stared at him once more, I thought, Good luck, Nong. 

Whoever you are, whatever your story may be, I might never know. 

But I wish, somehow, Life will be good for you. 

Cluttered thoughts

So it's about a week now since the classes started. I wish I could go like, gasp! I'm a Junior! But no, I'm not. I don't feel bad though. I guess I've finally understood what they mean when they say that "life is a box of melted chocolate, it may look like shit but it's sweet."

Well, I'm slowly getting the hang of Political Science and though I'm an irregular student, I feel like I actually am learning. And you know, learning always gives us this feeling that we are growing, that we are becoming better. 

I must say, I'm loving the experience. 

I've already missed a class because I had to interview our president chancellor for an article but I am determined to keep up with everything. 

I get tired, I long for more hours of sleep but, I have goals. And I am going to work hard to attain them.

(as of the moment, the writer's mind is totally cluttered so you might notice that her thoughts don't really go together. ) :]]]

Cover your ears

At age seven, you acted like you have actually accepted everything that's happening in your life which include the separation of your parents, and aunts and uncles who bully you because both your mother and your father were away from you so nobody's there to protect you from bullies who can't pick their own size. People marveled at the depth of your understanding and your capacity to just smile and shrug your shoulders whenever old people ask you how you feel after your parents got separated.

Now that you are older and the word 'anger' is already listed on your vocabulary, people call you "arrogant", "rude", "inconsiderate", "selfish", "wild", "ill-mannered",  and "disrespectful".

You are then being thought of as someone who is just so weak to even accept and cope up with the things that are happening in her life. In every possible way, they are showing you that venting out your anger is totally wrong because each and every individual who has ever walked the earth is going through something painful and difficult and that like most, you should just shut up.

I should say that people who think this way are just plain dumb and ignorant. I bet they've never gone through Psychology 101.

Or maybe, these people have just been used to you being quiet about the things that you feel. It's easier for them that way so they'd rather you have your mouth zipped forever.

But then, keeping your silence just so others won't hear anything unpleasing is not really something that brave and honest people do.

Everyone of us was given a mind and a mouth so that we could think independently and say whatever we wish to say without asking someone else to speak for us. So why the hell should we keep our silence for someone else's peace?

For those who don't like hearing anything unpleasing to hear from other people but can't help stumping on someone else's foot and ruining someone else's life, I have something to say to you:

Cover your ears because I won't shut my mouth.

I listened to myself today

I listened to myself today

There weren’t notes

Nor musical instruments

Neither jolly beats

That accompanied the song

That was sang by my soul

There was just

A constant flow of memories

Of long kept hatred, pain, and anguish

I listened to myself today

There weren’t notes

Nor musical instruments

Neither jolly beats

That accompanied the song

That was sang by my soul

There was just the beating of my heart

The unceasing thump

Of that fragile little thing

Which had long held everything in

I listened to myself today

There weren’t notes

Nor musical instruments

Neither jolly beats

That accompanied the song

That was sang by my soul

There was just me

And the quiet sound of my breathing

Me and my poignant thinking

Silently taking it all in and getting ready

To finally let it all out

I listened to myself today

There weren’t notes

Nor musical instruments

Neither jolly beats

That accompanied the song

That was sang by my soul

There was just me…

Listening to myself.

The WISE

He knows how I think, how I feel about things. And as I was watching him utter those words I would never even have the courage to say, tears were fighting their way out of my eyes. He is a great man, greater than many others I've known and yet, his greatness never became a reason for him to look down on lost souls like me. And as I stared at him as he goes on speaking, asking questions which he probably meant to ask to help me understand my options better, I was silently telling myself that someday, I'm going to make him proud of me.

To my Tatay Bok, you have no idea how much you're helping me. I feel like I'm a total nobody and yet you go on making me feel better when I don't even know how I'd be able to get up from where I am. In fact, I don't even know if I could still get up at all. But then again, thank you for believing in me, Dad.. I hope someday I make you proud.

From Facebook

This was the first status I posted in Facebook today. Inspired by my irritation towards our beloved LEADER. 

"The best thing about being a leader is not the thought that you get to give orders, but rather, the thought that you are not supposed to fail because someone else trusts you enough to have placed you exactly on the spot where you are: ABOVE THEM."

Pliers and Pies

Just this morning, I clipped my right forefinger with the pliers as I was trying to fix the faucet. One may think that I could have asked someone else to fix it for me but then, if you are living with a 75 year old grandmother and a 71 year old grandfather, you would surely understand why I had to do it myself.

So there I was in the bathroom wrapped in my heavy dull orange towel, trying to play as the home plumber when suddenly, I clipped my finger. You could imagine my face as I watched the pinkish mark that the pliers left on my skin. Surprisingly, I was calm. I tried to wash my hurt finger with water and forgot about the faucet. Never mind that it wasn't fixed, I am not going to risk another finger being clipped.

When I arrived in school, there wasn't much to do since I didn't have any exams today. I asked the other zombies if they would want to have ice cream to cool ourselves (by the way, the aircon unit in the office is on a fritz so just imagine how hot it is in the office right now..).

And so we went to the foodcourt to get some icecream and were disappointed when we found out that they don't have any icecream stock today. Boohoo!

Of course, being us, we went out of the school up to the Lasalle Avenue branch of Jollibee just to grab the much craved for icecream! However, since I was not able to have lunch yet, I thought of buying some pies. And though I am not really stupid, I BRAVELY took one, extremely hot pie, brought it to my mouth, bit it and immediately spat it out. IT WAS TOO HOT!

Goodness gracious! You could just imagine what those people from the other table thought about me. Perhaps they were thinking, "what a clutz".

I would probably forgive myself if I only did it once but, I did it twice.. I spat the thing out again the second time I took a bite.

Oh Coleen. When will you ever learn that you shouldn't swallow something hot?

But anyway.. So I experienced one unfortunate event in the morning and another one in the afternoon.. Will there be another one this evening?

Oh crap.. Should go home and lock myself in my room perhaps.

Transparent

"You look fragile."

Someone close to me told me that a few moments ago. And I think she's right. I am fragile, and I might break just any time.

I guess I am pretty much transparent after all. Like a clear, highly breakable glass.. People could see through me.

THE GOAL

I fear the unknown. I am hoping for a better tomorrow but I'm not working hard for it. I hate myself for being so confused, so angry.. so lost. I am tired of the way life goes for me. I am tired of acting like as if I am so damn busy when the truth is, I am only busy because I don't set goals. I always procrastinate. I always act only when the bomb is on the trigger. I am not moving forward. I just stay circling the same spot I've been on for so long.

And I am tired of it.

I'd like things to change. I WANT some change.

Somehow, it also scares me because the change that I'm talking about is for me to stop feeling like I'm lost. And the only way for me to do that is to find myself. My OLD self.

I am 18. Young.. but I won't forever be.

So I have to do something about my life right now.

And at the moment, I only have one goal: FIND MYSELF.

Forgotten emotion

I haven't been in school today.. Haven't been in any of my class. The latter won't sound unusual since that's how I am in most days. IN SCHOOL but NOT IN CLASS.

So I spent the whole day listening to the songs I've saved in my computer, watching the seventh part of the Harry Potter series over and over again, talking to Elpijay, thinking, thinking and thinking.

I was planning to go to school by around the 5th hour of the afternoon but then again, I decided to just wash my uniform and some of my other dirty clothes and when I was done, the thought of going to the ZOMBIE LAND have already been washed out of my mind.

I was thinking that today would just be one of those days where I stayed home and do nothing. Like as if forgetting that I am supposed to be a busy person. Then I got a text message from a classmate whom I've once been very closed to. It won't have been significant had I not been curious as to why someone like her sent me a message where my name is typed followed by a sad face icon. Of course, being me, I sent her a response asking what the sad face icon was all about?

Her answer didn't really surprise me. She was just asking if it was true that I would be shifting to another course. And so I did tell her the truth. That I would really be leaving MassComm. I don' really like it when people would fuss over my life and the decisions I make but I just felt the need to tell her something. And despite myself, as I re-read the replies I've sent her right now, I have somehow gotten the feeling that somewhere inside me resides a girl who is strong enough to handle whatever this is that she's going through. A girl who, despite being lost, would still manage to find herself again.

Somehow, I am wishing that I could also tell myself the same things that I tell those people who try to tell me how great I am and that I should be staying right in this place where I've been trying to belong to for so long. But then, if I could tell some people that I am okay and that everything else is happening for a reason and make them believe in it, I just know for a fact that I cannot because in many ways, I also don't know if there is still a reason left for those people who look up to me to believe in me the way they do.

At some point in life, we really just have to take a turn and go the other way.

That's what I told her, I am not really sure if that girl texted me because she was really sad after hearing that I'll be shifting to another course or perhaps she only wanted to find out if what she heard is true.

Whatever is her reason, there's just one thing that I have somehow learned in our conversation. Maybe I could get through this. Maybe despite me being so weak right now, I'd soon be able to come out of this.

So to that friend, THANKS! :]


(This is a delayed post)

Extinguished

I am an extinguished fire.

I have always been the type whom people would assume to be someone strong and capable. For so long, I thought  of myself that way too. I thought that every difficulty that people go through is just like a hump on the road or an obstacle in a racing field, just give it some time and you'll get through it. But with the way things go for me right now, it's like as if all those dreams that I've spent so much time and energy dreaming about are nothing but faded memories of a dreamer who's finally awake and aware that some things are just too far from becoming possible.

I've always been positive, no matter what situation I get myself into, I've always managed to come out of it stronger and better than ever. But this, whatever this is, is totally different. At times I'm hoping it's just a phase, but most of the time, I feel like I'm fighting a losing battle and even if this is just a phase, I feel like it's a phase I will never be able to surpass.

They say the world is like a spinning wheel and that whether you are at the bottom or the top, you won't be there forever. I however, feel like I am down and that I am bound to stay here forever. Unmoving, frozen at the bottom.

An extinguished fire, yes that would be me.

I used to withstand the powerful winds of life, I used to manage to keep the fire burning. This time, albeit, I have been put out and I don't think I'd ever be able to rekindle the fire that had once fueled me to go on despite the winds of life that's been dragging me back.

I Just Have To Cross

I've been worrying about our final swimming practicum for weeks now. For someone like me who can't really swim that well, 50 meters freestyle is torture!

So I spent a couple of afternoons going to Sta. Fe and practicing a bit just to make myself comfortable with water. And earlier today, I really thought that all those afternoons of swimming practices, those evening jogs I did to have better endurance, will go to nothing.

The moment I stepped into the water, my unshowered body chilled.

I waited for my name to be announced by our teacher and after four names, I heard mine.

It felt like the world froze for seconds and I used those seconds to place myself at the other end of the pool where I was supposed to kick my feet to save myself a few meters of swimming.

So there I went, I took a deep breath and performed the long practiced kick and swooosh! I could no longer describe how I looked while I was swimming. I don't know how long it took me to reach the other end but when I was already in the middle- which is exactly the part of the pool where people who stand at 4ft and 11 inches like me- shouldn't linger, I felt like stopping for a while and just catch my breath.

It was extremely tiring and I thought for one moment that my legs would be detached from my body.

But I kept on kicking and flying my arms upward and down again into the water, I breathe every time I could and just kept on moving.

I remember I thought of grabbing that rope on the pool and just rest for a while but doing so would mean having 85 over 100. So I struggled so hard to keep myself from being tempted by the idea. I don't even know if I was still doing it right but the whole time I was doing it, I had only one thing in mind: I HAVE TO CROSS IT. And that's exactly what I did.

I felt the hard, wet pebble coated cement on the other side of the pool and I felt proud of myself. I DID IT!

I was able to cross the pool.

Now, as I sit here while pouring my current emotion out, I think about how things went for me this second semester. I must say, I haven't been doing that good. Should I give a range for how I've performed, I would even say it's closer to bad.

Then I think about it, everything that I am going through right now is so much like crossing the pool (while swimming, of course!)

I have to cross, and though most of the time I feel like stopping and catching my breath, I guess I should better just take a deep breath all the time, dive into the water, keep my arms and feet moving, breathe whenever I could and just reach the other end. I shouldn't stop, because if I would, the tendency is I would lose the courage and the strength to go on and just let myself be drowned by frustration, self-pity, regrets, anger and pain.

I guess, that's where I failed.

I have an idea of who I am and of what I could do but every time I feel tired, I don't try my best to just endure whatever it is that I am going through. I don't set goals, I don't usually know the WHERETOs and HOWTOs. Or if I know, I keep on lazing around thinking that I am not ready for anything when, just now, I have realized that no one is really ready for anything unless they try.

I talked to one of my teachers this morning and though I could have spent a few more minutes talking to her, what she told me made me decide to just back off.

I am waste.

That's what she told me. A waste not because I am made of nothing but because I am made of something and yet I am throwing everything that I could ever be into waste. Hearing her say those words felt like I was being stabbed with the sharp TRUTH.

I am throwing myself away. I am not trying hard to get to the other side of all these things that I am going through.

I think I know exactly what to do and still, I keep on feeling scared and unready all the time.

But really, when my PE teacher said "Go" earlier, which had meant that I should start kicking and swimming, I just did what he said. I've let go of my apprehensions, kicked on the wall, started swimming and never stopped until I reached the other side.

Perhaps that is something that I should try with my life right now....

I have to let go of everything. Pluck up the courage to just cross the pool of education, of love, of hardships... of LIFE and reach the other end no matter what I have to go through.

I was given a second chance before, I failed. Now, I'll be the one to give myself one more chance to try on another path and take the challenges I'd have to face while walking on that other road.

And just in case there'd be rivers, I now know what to do...

I just have to cross.

THEM

Since I thought that all magazine articles were all past deadlines, I was very much determined to finish my article before sunrise. I set an interview with the College of Education's choice for  this year's The Class and yet in the end, I also had to postpone for some reasons.

So I went home just to change into clean clothes after taking our associate editor's advice that it won't be good if I would go home in my uniform on a Saturday morning. I spent about an hour and a half in traveling, showering and preparing to go back to school.

I was irritated however when by the time I got back to LaSalle and called the office to ask someone to fetch me at the second gate, no one was answering the phone. The guards told me that they (SPECTRES) have all gone out, to have dinner I supposed.

So to cut the long story short, I had to load up just to ask where they've gone, walk from the second gate to the end of Lasalle avenue, wait for a few minutes for a Talisay jeep, ended up riding a Silay jeep instead before I finally got to Chicken house where the gang of Zombies was waiting for me.

I wasn't really in a good mood but when I saw them, I don't know why I was suddenly reminded of a family.. So when I finally got to sit on one of the chairs, I was eager to enjoy dinner.

There were the usual gossips, jokes and endless conversations about everything. By the time we rode the tricycle back to the office, I felt joy.. And that's when I realized that, despite all the pressure being a spectre gives me, I still could say that it is in being a spectre that I find joy and fulfillment.

It is with them that I laugh like as if I'm about to die the next day and have fun like as if there's no other day that I could enjoy except at the present moment.

So, maybe, I just want to say that, I love being in the publication. I love the Spectres and above all, I love being one.

The Lost Sheep

I was there, among the others who were flocking the chapel that hour. It's Ash Wednesday so everyone intended to have a cross sign on their foreheads, like as if it would give them a ticket to hell if they fail to do so.

If you would ask me why I was really there, you would probably be surprised to find out that I don't really know either. For weeks, maybe even longer, I haven't been praying. I go to church, I listen to the gospel, I get to eat the Body of Christ and yet I just know that something's missing. I no longer think of God the way I thought of Him before. I'd like to blame myself for entertaining the probability that there's no God after all these time. Maybe we are just being made to believe that there's a place called heaven where angels and a supreme being live and that there's hell where people who do evil stuff would be burned forever after judgement day.

I get scared at times. Is my questioning of His existence the reason why my life is going crazy right now? Am I being punished for doubting Him?

While at the chapel earlier, I found myself shedding tears before and after I had the holy communion. I couldn't help it. They say, when you are not saying anything to Him, He would be the one to tell you what He wants to say to you. And the whole time, I forced myself to focus, to think of nothing but my relationship with Him. And the more I thought of Him, the more I realized how worse I have become. I find myself already half eaten by anger. And I thought of my mom who tirelessly tells me to forgive everyone who has done me wrong and stay humble. I thought about all the people I've hurt because I am just so mad. I thought of myself, how much I have screwed things up, how I have let go of almost everything just because I am tired, confused and bitter.

I thought about everything and I only wanted to cry. Thank the heavens there were lots of people in there. Still, I felt like exploding in pain. I wanted to let it all out. I felt like I needed to burst out just to calm the storm inside me. Yet I didn't.

I stared at the bronze imitation of Christ nailed on the wooden cross at the chapel, I tried to be in my most spiritually sensitive state. I found it hard to even listen to Him, it used to be easy for me. The fact that I already find it difficult to pray is proof enough that I have gone so far away from His flock.. That I have been terribly bad, that I have been lost.

And as I stared at the figure of the man whom I dreamed of being married to before, I let a few tears slide down my face. It was relieving. Ignoring the remaining people inside the chapel, I prayed, " Just let me believe in You, the way I do before.."

I stayed for a few more moments, and when I went out.. I have nothing in my heart but hope. Hope that everything will be fine, because He's real, and He'll never forsake me.. I JUST HAVE TO BELIEVE.

Brave water

It was two quarters before seven, I remember hearing the sound of my alarm, the sound I loathe the most ever since I started school. I would have gone back to sleep if only my not so brilliant mind didn't work too fast the very second I opened my eyes. I don't know, all of a sudden, there were lots of things in my mind. 

I thought about the exams I have to take, the script I have to finish, the articles I'm supposed to work on. Questions like, "Do I want a cold or warm milk?", "Would the water be warm enough for me not to chill while taking a bath?", "Would it rain today?" and a lot more things that, oddly enough, I rarely think about had just crossed my thoughts.  

Surprisingly, I had noticed, though a little later, that I have already been thinking deeply about how my life has been in the last five years.

My life has been pretty messed up. 

If I should be honest, I think I have already realized this fact long ago. The problem was, I was just too weak to even admit it to myself. I was in denial. I have always been the kind who took pride at being independent, strong, invulnerable, and positive.

But this morning, I thought of how pretentious and dishonest I'd be should I even make myself believe that everything in my life and in myself is okay. They're terribly NOT okay. 

I haven't been talking much to anyone at home for about a month now. Just a few weeks ago, I wasn't attending my classes. I haven't been in church for a couple of Sundays. I have been ignoring everyone and even everything. I have been undeniably rebellious. Silent, and yet rebellious. (You shouldn't really be fooled by my often boisterous laugh.)

I was already taking shower, the water was quite warm but the morning breeze goes in through the small holes of our bathroom window so despite the warm water, I felt cold. No matter how much my teeth would chatter however, my thoughts about my really disappointing life are like questions of a 'DON'T LEAVE ANY BLANKS' exam paper. Unless I answer everything, I can't go out. For a moment, I wondered whether it was the water from the shower or my tears that had wet my face. 

I knew I had to do something about everything. But really, I thought, "HOW?"

I tried to think about Elpijay, how I consider him as the only thing that's right in my life. I think about the Cube, how I would want to be there for him. I think about the publication, how the pressure inside the office makes me remember that I still have purpose in this world. I think about those people who really care for me, I think about Bujek and Buyong, how much younger I get when I am with them. I think about my BEST friends, how hard I could laugh when we hang around. I think about my possibilities, my strengths. I think about everything I could be and I can't help but feel bad. 

How could I let myself be drowned in this pool of I-really-don't-know-what, laze around and pretend things are fine when they really are NOT?

I have been so angry and though I really don't think that I'd ever be able to stop myself from getting angry, I just want to admit that right now, I really am tired of it. 

And as I let water cool my head and watch it fearlessly slide down the tiny dark holes that would- I think- lead them back to where they come from.. I have realized that like the water, I should also be brave enough to slide down some dark holes so I could go back to where I've been, to where I should be.

Think about this, the water may flow through canals, rivers, ponds, falls, may be drank by a human, evaporate, condense and then someday, after such a long cycle, would go back to the ocean. 

Sigh. 

I honestly find this blog lousy. What with the comparison of water to myself? Eeew..

But really, if the water goes back to the ocean, I just wonder where I'd soon be. Or perhaps, I should be asking this instead:

Where SHOULD I soon be?

DISGUST

I stood in front of them

Their razor sharp eyes shot towards me

In disgust

I stared down

At my two hands

So tiny, so fragile

Hands that,

For them,

Are never capable

Of anything worthwhile

I did run

Away from them

To find myself

But the world was harsh

And never kind

So I struggled until I found

Myself, my stronger and better self

And they stood in front of me

My cold eyes

Froze them to death

I was disgusted.