Of the many things I learned from Socio...

the lesson last Thursday was the one made me say, "Aray," and kept me thinking about it, and of me, days after. Even up to now.

It is highly unusual for me to remember a thing, moreso a lesson, until weekend. Yes I am GC, according to lots of people, and masipag to the point that makes others envious or "hate" me, but I rarely value/ponder on an "academic" bit of information if not needed.

But my Socio professor, as usual, got me thinking. Our class under him is every Thursdays from 5:30-8:30 pm.Yes, PM. Still, he keeps me awake all thoughout the whole thing. As in, three hours straight. If that's not enough to convince how good he is, he discusses things that are about Sociology but in the end you realize that you're thinking of yourself. Reflection time.

So. What exactly did I "learn"?

In the world of postmodernism, we should accept and adapt to every new thing that comes our way. Because if we don't, the world won't wait for us. That in these changing times, we need to accept (and not judge) an individual by the character he chooses to "pose" or project to the society because that's what he wants. And no explanation should be asked, or be given. Since everything's postmodern
.
To those who don't know/observe it yet, my friends say that I am homophobic. I always have this comment on gays, in particular. Gay classmates, gay strangers, gay celebs, gay teachers, guys that I think are gay, and so on. I have this so-called fixation on judging whether this guy (usually from school) is gay or not. Whether he has both feet dangling over the edge, or just half. As if being gay was like falling off a cliff. And I get a thrill (?) upon knowing that the guy I believe to be gay is, in fact, gay. It's like hearing my brain go chi-ching! (like a cash register) upon every confirmation. It's an addition, I feel, to my prominence as a gay-guessing-individual, and I feel my gay-predicting skills improved with every guess proved right. I pride myself on having awesome gaydar.

My Socio professor's parting words to the class, as he ended, hit me. Every word. I realized that I shouldn't have these comments and what-nots on gay guys, and homosexuals in general. That I should stop being pseudo-conservative. And just accept. Accept that the world and society is changing, and if I don't learn to accept these changes, they wouldn't wait for me. I'd be left rotting in a place (with all my conservative/traditonal views) where everyone has passed, and gone forward.

Losing my qualms, reservations and homophobia (if I really have one) is hard. As always, I rely on time to help me. And for God to make me a better, non-judgmental individual that he wants me to be.

Cybersuicide

To borrow from Hamlet (I think): "To kill or not to kill, that is the question."

Last Saturday I read Pepe Diokno's article in PhilStar's Supreme fold (which, I think, is by far the BEST feature of the said paper). Yes, you guessed it right. It's on cybersuicide. I'm against plagiarism so I'm citing him. ;D

Well, cybersuicide, by the word itself, means, quite literally, killing yourself cyber-wise. It's when you DELETE all sorts of online accounts you have. Like the "biggest network" Friendster, Multiply, Facebook, LiveJournal, and even, Blogger and Wordpress. As in, everything. And to stretch it, you google yourself and try to delete every ounce of reliable information the Internet has on you. Thus, after it, you declare yourself, dead.

Pepe Diokno did the same thing because, as his article implies, he broke up with someone and just a few weeks after, he sees the girl in the arms of a "scrawny (expletives deleted) young man". And because booze and friends could not provide enough solace to forget this certain girl, he kills himself. Cyber-wise, I repeat.

But he cautions us though. That before anyone attempts to "imitate" him, and kill themselves as well, we should all think twice. Thrice, if needed. Ponder on the things that will be lost and gained with this suicide. Weigh the pros and cons.

And ask yourself, "Am I ready to die?"

We are, as I write, in times when "emo-ness" are "in" (or should I say common?). That we one becomes emotional and nearly suicidal, it's okay.

But, be prepared, because with the popularity of tons of online accounts, there will be a time, in the near-future I predict, when cybersuicide will be the "in" thing. People will just be bored of connecting and publishing themselves online, and decide, unabashedly, that it is time. Time to end their life. Or . . . regain it.

Wow: serious and funny aspects of the elections

Having read a couple (actually more than a couple) of blog entries on the upcoming UPManila elections, I was, in a way, "encouraged" to write my views. *Gasp* Finally I get to write, or have the courage to write, about this thing they call the "elections".

We, the students of the University, are fond of seeing the wrong and/or the bad in the current status of Philippine politics. Moreso during elections. With the corruption, deception and all. But, let us look at ourselves. In the University nowadays, since the elections is just a week ahead, polliticking is evident. Like issues of smear campaigns, black propagandas, and others.

Another "issue" that bugs me is that the candidates are just, basically, unknowns. With exception to the likes of Mr. Go, Ms. Deligente, and some other incumbents, everyone else is, really, newbies. Yes, I know they say being a "newbie" is good because it gives the voters a choice, and they have "fresh and uncorrupted" minds/goals. But, I ask, is being a newbie a way of . . . pursuing one's personal interests, or his/her party's/coalition's/supporters', and just exploiting one's kagwapuhan or kagandahan to win, and well, be sikat?

With the emergence of these color-coded new candidates, I feel like they just woke up one day and decided (or was enlightened, haha) to run for whatever position they feel they would/could win. And as Kuya Reighben from our Hum1 class put it, politics in UPM is a politics of introduction, with the onset of these "new" personalities.

I have nothing against them personally. But it pains me to see these newbies, running independently or with a party, "exploiting" the people's power to vote. They use charms and porma rather than true platforms/agendas.

Tsk. What a controversial topic politics is.

**********

On a lighter note, I was amused at the witty and sometimes pathetic-sounding one-liners of the candidates.

Here are some of them. To those who know the candidates who said the following please don't take them personally. Nakakatawa lang talaga.

"Kenny's Careplan" --- This sounded like a diaper brand (to Vic) and an insurance policy (to me). ;D

"Dahil kay Kenny, ikaw ang bida." ---Hay, favorite ko na talaga 'tong si Kenny. hahah

"Dahil kay Ian Manalang, panalo ka." ---Did I get his surname right? ;D

"V for . . . " ---I forgot what Vs the candidate enumerated. Pero familiar 'yung line. 'Kala ko nga, in the end, sasabihin niya . . . Vendetta. haha. Natalie Portman!

At ang pinakabida sa lahat . . .

"Dahil kay *toot* Placido, bagay tayo." ---Ano raw? haha Masyado siyang pacute, as in with matching paawa face and tantalizing, ehem, eyes. Come on, give me a break. hahaha, sorry kuya.

Believing

A simple word can't express the amount of hate I feel.

I hate it that certain people (and this girl from LaSalle) kept urging me, Dette and Vic to join this frigging rally, walkout. Yes, I went to RH steps for grade's sake. Anthro 1 and all. But I realize that for me to "enjoy" joining this thing called the walk-out I should first and foremost believe in it. Not just believe that I will get a plus for it.

And how can I believe when the person/s, or some of them, initiating this walkout are not the ones "I look up to". Yes, Randy David was there (according to Dette, I did not see him). But really, was he my role model?

I know I will get raps, sneers and not-so-great comments behind my back because of this things that I am writing, being in UP and all. I do know my responsibility as an Iskolar ng Bayan. But I have my ways to do it. I don't do rallies or walkouts. They are not my kind of thing.

Call me whatever you want, I will stand by what I believe in. I have my ways of showing my contempt for this government they call "evil".

But really, I ask all of you who went there, do you really believe something will happen? In the event the present president is ousted, who will replace her? I'm sure whoever it is, in a few years time, another walkout will be organized to oust that person.

Ate Alj from Gabriela (though I'm not part of it, I tambay there) confronted me, weeks ago, with answer to this question. She said, "Kung sino pa ang tinatanong mo ikaw ang may problema. Dahil ang tanong na dapat ay ano." She then told me all about this transition council that they were planning in the event the President is ousted.

But I still stand my ground. Not only by way of rallies or walkouts can we express our contempt for whomever/opinion on whatever issue. I believe there are ways, peaceful ways . . .

Call me a functionalist or a control freak or whatever for believing and wanting peace and order (to some this is status quo) all the time.

Then, so be it.

Better be tragic than a martyr

The misconception about tragedy (as in drama) is that it is a sad play with an unhappy ending. But judging from its Greek root words tragos and aeiedein it means, literally "song of the goat". FYI: The goat is/was sacred tp Dionysus, the god of wine and feritility, in whose name were the early festivals of song and dance, out of which drama grew.

To cut a long story short, tragedy is an assertion of the fundamental greatness of man; the individual's ability to rise to the heights of human dignity in the face of antagonistic force/s which he knows will finally destroy him.

The point of tragedy is that the protagonist, when faced with the inevitability of the fact that the forces arrayed against him are to cause his literal or figurative death, can and will rise to the occassion and assert his magnificence as a human being, defying the force/s and bringing him at bay or destorying them with himself. There is no possibility of escape because after the balance of forces comes an absolute finality.

So, in many ways, tragedy is not really saddening and depressing in the accident or catastrophe sort of way. And the irony here is that proof of human greatness comes only in death. And every tragic protagonist has this tragic flaw (usually hubris or excessive pride) which makes him "human" and is the cause of his destruction.

The difference between a martyr and a tragic protagonist (or tragic person, in short) is that the martyr dies for a particular cause, and his death implies that something comes after making the suffering and death worth the pain. And lastly, martyr while asserting his cause may consciously seek death. While a tragic person has every reason to live, and makes a heroic struggle to survive in the face of overwhelming odds. And only in death does the tragic grandeur emerge. And his death is a profound loss to humanity.


So there: You choose. Are you tragic or a martyr?

Well, I guess I'd rather live and die while fighting for something I believe in. But, then again, things are easier said than done. And the true answer, for each and every one, is known only when he (or she) is put in a situation which calls for the decision that will change his/her life, forever. I just hope that when we do decide, we won't regret.

This fear of regret though is what makes me, and I guess a lot of people as well, linger at the crossroads too much. Not wanting to take/choose a path too quickly for the fear of regret and failure. Choosing to be surrounded by these safe walls that we have made for ourselves.

I just wish I had the right amount of courage to move my feet wherever I want to, which way I choose because standing at a crossroad for too long is tiring and takes its toll.

Cummings and goings

i have found what you are like
by e.e. cummings


i have found what you are like
the rain,

(Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields

easily the pale club of the wind and
swirled justly souls of flower strike

the air in utterable coolness

deeds of green thrilling light
with thinned

newfragile yellows

lurch and.press

-in the woods
which
stutter
and

sing


And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms; but
i should rather than anything
have (almost when hugeness
will shut quietly) almost,
your kiss

---------------------------------------------

This is my memorized version of e.e. cummings' poem that I used for my Hum1 oral poetry reading/discussion/exam(!) I tried to have the patented pa-Stariray effect using rainstorm soundeffects but the plan backfired. My Silently Terrifying Professor said, "Can you please turn that off?" Oh god. So I turned the iPod off in the most unaffected manner that I can muster at that moment. But inside, it affected my speaking drive--whatever was left of it.

Then, as I was done explaining the "hidden meanings" of the said poem, my Silently Terrifying Professor stood up and said (after I sat back into my seat) that (my rough translation) "For us to appreciate the beauty of a flower, we do not need to rip it apart."

As I took my seat, I asked my seatmate, "Ano? Kamusta? (How was I?)"
She replied with a smile, "You ripped apart the flower."

Oh. Dear. God.

At the Crossroads

Everyday we are confronted with decision-making between what is right and what is wrong, between what is good and what is bad.

In Christ's Sermon of the Mount, He speaks of another decision he wants us to make.

"Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it."
Matthew 7:13-14

Here, He speaks of human achievement and Divine accomplishment, two "ways" to enter the Kingdom of God. One is true and the other is deceptive. The Lord tell us to enter the narrow gate with urgency, alone, and with repentance.

Alone, for salvation is based individually. You cannot be saved because you were born in a Christian family; you cannot be saved just because your father is a pastor. But rather, you are saved because you received Jesus Christ as your saviour.

But, salvation never stops at this. Once saved, as a Christian you have to manifest through your words, actions and life that you are, truly and sincerely, saved. The road to the Kingdom of God is narrow for many will try to enter and will not be able to (Luke 13:24).

Lastly, we are told to enter the narrow gate with repentance. We have to admit that self-righteousness wouldn't get us anywhere. That we can't enter His kingdom without his help. That the only way to the Kingdom of God is through Jesus Christ alone.

Everyone, let us choose the narrow gate and make a sincere effort to enter it.

Perception, prosperity and power

In Paul's letter to the Colossians:

"All over the world this gospel is bearing fruit and growing, just as it has been doing among you since the day you heard it and understood God's grace in all its truth . . . And we pray this in order that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and may please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have a great endurance and patience,"

Colossians 1: 16, 10-11



The Message:
Paul prays for the Colossians, and for Christians in general, to have Perception, Prosperity and Power. Perception to know God's will, general and specific, in/for our lives through the Word of God, the Bible. Read the Bible, everyone, and find out what God's plan is for you. Prosperity in our walk and work in Christ. In this coming year, we should all work hard and walk in the power of the Holy Spirit to tell others about Christ, for we are his ambassadors (2 Corinthians 5:20), and live according to His will. Power for the believers in living and glorifying the Lord. Power to help us overcome the various challenges, spiritual or otherwise, we may face in the coming year.
Overall, Paul prays for Christians to endure all the challenges and enjoy the promises God has for everyone who believes in Him.
Endure and enjoy, 2008.

--As I was looking through my youth fellowships lessons and bible study notes we had, I noticed the only pastoral message I wrote down. I remember loving and liking this message. This was Pastor Oly's New Year's message. And knowing that I wasn't the best Christian out there, nor am I the best Christian I could be.
I remember promising myself that if I ever considered having a new year's resolution, this would be it. To be the best Christian I could be, in words, thoughts, actions, feelings.

Winston Churchill once said . . .

having enemies is good because it means that you've stood up for something, sometime in your life. (I've paraphrased it, of course.)

Yes, this is true. Standing up for what you believe in or defending yourself or someone brings enemies, that's inevitable. But, on the other hand, it is not good to encourage, for a lack of a better term, yourself to have enemies or stay enemies with someone. I am not contradicting myself. Simply put, Mr. Churchill and me have different views on things. And him being the better (and older) philosopher (well, i don't consider myself as one), people tend to believe and follow what he says.

But listen. Please listen. Or rather, read on.

Forgiveness is a promise not a feeling, a friend once told me. In forgiving, you promise to forget or at least not think about other's misgivings and shortcomings always. You think first of the years of laughter, tears, shared secrets, and friendship you have or have shared before thinking of the one moment when he/she made you lose your ire. For you to be a good friend, you have to see the many good things about that person first before seeing the few bad. Now, that's true friendship.

I know that good/greatest friends are the meanest enemies. But I ask you, who refuse to forgive, didn't it cross your mind during the time you were giving him/her the cold shoulder, that it's such a waste to put your years of friendship out the window? Don't you miss him/her companionship/friendship?

I know that I should mind my own business, and that I know less (if not none) on this matter. But I've seen how great friends you all are. I hate to see such great friendships end and worse, I hate to see the best-est friends ending them. And I hate to see myself doing nothing about it.

Believe me, no one benefits from this self-waged war. All are affected. All are hurting. So I will not take sides. But rather, I'tll tell alll of you who are in a fight (now or before) . . .


Forgive, friends. Forgive.

Why I Love Rich Alvarez

 

People who know, or found out, that I love basketball wonders why I am into it. It turns I don't look like someone who is into basketball. Imagine an overweight, bespectacled bookworm liking, among other things, basketball. But of course, looks can be deceiving. Anyway, after knowing the first surprising fact about me people ask who my favorite player is. I answer, without blinking, "Rich Alvarez". Common reactions to this are: "Who the hell is he?" "What team does he play for?" and "Why him?" I often answer, politely, "He's in Red Bull [or whatever team he's part of at the moment]." But what I really wanted to say was, "You don't really like basketball enough because you don't know him!" 


Rich's main critics are, in fact, my brothers and sister. Whenever I would watch Rich's game, they would comment "Sayang lang oras mo. Matatalo rin 'yan." Or whenever they win, my brother would say, "Sus, buti malakas kakampi ni Rich." I always defended my favorite player by saying, "Defense wins the game. And Rich defended ___ [the opposing team's star player]." My brother, being the typical Pinoy fan who's more engrossed in fancy moves and high scores rather than noticing the intangible things other players, like Rich, do. Rebound, defend, run the floor, set screens, pass.

Looking back, I first liked basketball when I watched an awarding ceremony of a UAAP season. I could not remember what season was this because I was only in grade school then. I didn't know there were different seasons etc. In the awarding ceremony, I saw this tall, cute player being awarded MVP, with the sportscaster saying that he has won two in a row. What followed the ceremony was the Game 2 of that Finals series, which, unfortunately, I didn't watch because my father wanted to watch other things on TV.


Knowing that Studio 23 aired amateur basketball tournaments, I made it a point to watch out for that MVP. In the Philippine Basketball League (an amateur summer league where "smaller" teams/franchises play against each other; players who're part of the teams are usually those from collegiate leagues like the UAAP and NCAA), I saw the same guy--Mr. Cute MVP--playing power forward for a team named Fash Detergent, where the players from Ateneo's men's collegiate team played. I watched him play and liked his style. Simple yet efficient. Puts up a great defense, shows good lateral movements (in fact, his laterals were so good that he guarded Mike Cortez, a guard, during the Ateneo vs. La Salle finals) and is very down-to-earth. He never bragged about a shot he made, a move he did, and a win they achieved. I did not saw him trash talk. At best, he shows emotion by smiling or by high-fiving a teammate. In a way, he was silent but very passionate about the game.

From then on, I became a self-confessed, obsessed Rich Alvarez fan. I don't know what about him exactly that made me go--Ah that's the player I will be rooting for All. My. Life.--it just happened. Yeah I know.


Despite the up and downs of Rich's career (from a championship in the PBL before he went pro, being top pick in the PBA draft, being benched in his first game as a PBA players, being Rookie of the Year, ACL injury, wins, losses, trades, and criticisms) I still liked Rich and his ways. His career may not be what we (or maybe even he) imagined for himself but that's life, you take what you are given. Rich has taken what life had to offer; what teams had to offer. He did not care when he was benched (or at least, he did not appear to be fazed by it); he did not care if his coach used him sparingly. As I look at him at the bench, I see him eagerly cheering on his teammates, always ready if called on to play. I still like Rich as a player. And I have my collection of newspaper clippings to prove that.

The Luxury of a DVD/VCD Player

Growing up in the South (read: Laguna), my siblings and I were brought up in an conservative family setting. We ate our meals together. We ate vegetables regularly. We were reprimanded if we disobeyed house rules or didn't do what we were told. We got spanked--on the butt mostly--and every wrong deed was punished. We had study hours and TV hours. During examinations week, no one was allowed to watch TV before reviewing. We did not have cable or Internet connection. We are to be given cellphones upon reaching high school. Time spent on the telephone was limited also. It was these rules that disciplined us and helped us focus more on the more important things in life: School, studying and playing real games outside the house with our neighbors.


So when my mom bought (finally!) a DVD/VCD player, my siblings and I went crazy. We got excited at the thought of watching movies we missed or weren't allowed to see. We watched How To Lose A Guy in Ten Days, a movie I've wanted to watch since I saw its trailer. I was a big Kate Hudson fan a few years ago. The movie was hilariously funny but the plot was typical. But being a sap for romantic flicks, I liked it. More than that, I liked that I had the opportunity to watch it. This may sound crazy or creepy to most people (it's as if my siblings and I were deprived) but I appreciated how my parents wanted us to focus less on TV and more on... playing outside. 

Anyway, one movie we watched was Little Manhattan. A story about a boy's first love. Unexpectedly, I liked the movie. There were nice characters and the plot was... well, not ordinary. But the thing I liked the most about the movie was the main character Gabe (Josh Hutcherson) and Rosemary Telesco (Charlie Ray). If kids as young as they can be perceived/accepted to have romantic chemistry, they clearly had it. 

Thank god my mother decided to buy a DVD/VCD player. Hmm, what movies shall I watch next?

Lessons from Gray: A Semi-Review of "Gray Matters"

I’m such a sap for light, romance flicks. The ones that leave you feeling good about yourself or the ones that leave the viewers adoring or wishing that the lead character were they, in real life. Well, my favorite flick, Sweet November is such a film. Maybe that’s why it’s my favorite. But the ending wasn’t. In truth, I don’t really like films with bad ending (a.k.a. those which features the lead characters not ending up together). But to my surprise, I really liked the film. Charlize Theron was adorable, and the perfect choice for the character.

And just recently (actually, today), I watched an offbeat “unusual” film entitled Gray Matters, which stars Heather Graham and Tom Cavanagh, with my younger brother. They were siblings, not lovers. Tom Cavanagh, lead actor for Ed reminds me a lot of Adrien Brody. Tall and lanky with an irresistible impish smile. Anyway, Heather Graham as Gray was, like Charlize, perfect. I love Heather’s way of portraying a quirky, hot but confused gay girl.

Basically, I liked the film for three reasons. One, because it’s a light, romance flick (which what made me decide to watch in the first place). Two, it stars my now-favorite Tom Cavanagh and the guy who played the Scottish taxi driver-slash-friend of Gray. Three, because of its moral lesson. Which is: Don’t let anyone tell you what you “should” be. Simple as that. And because of this, Gray had the guts to come out... and date. Fourth, the soundtrack was awesome.

One of my most favorite scenes from the movie was when Heather and Tom were inside the elevator, talking, after Tom had “broadcast” to Heather’s whole office (using webcams and PCs) that she is (gasp) a gay. Heather was crying and telling Tom that she feared coming out because of many things like not being able to hold hands with her partner while walking down the street without being gossiped or looked at, not being able to have kids, and, basically, because she felt alone. And she stayed “straight” jut because pretending to be one was easier and less fuss than coming out.

Somehow, I related to her. Not because I am gay but maybe because sometimes in my life I act as how other people perceive or expect me to be just because going against the flow is a hassle. Sometimes when I have mood swings and I realize that I am a loser for not having any boyfriend or any suitor for that matter, I think and feel that I’ll grow old alone, which is my ultimate fear (next to losing my mom, of course). Sometimes or most of the time, I think of swinging to the other side. Or better yet, swinging both ways to have a wider range of choices. As if I had a field to choose from in the first place. 




Angsty me no likey.

Of writers and my very own “writer thing”

I always dreamed of being a writer. Not a journalist, but a feature story writer. The closest thing I came to achieving this dream is when I write (or try to) my own short story, and, of course, when I blog. My attempts to accomplish the former always turned futile because of either boredom or the un-creativeness bug that hits me whenever I’m half way to my own short story. On the other hand, this blog, I can say, brings out the inner dormant writer that lies beneath. Whether or not my dormant writer deserves to be unearthed remains to be an unanswered question. And I am happy that at least I can let out this “writer thing” that has been bugging me for years.

Anyway, just this morning, I read Letty Jacinto-Lopez’s article in the Philippine Star under the column, Purple Shades. First things first. The writers whom I admire are Celine Lopez (who I started to read when I was in high school pa), Barbara Gonzales (whom I discovered was a light-hearted read, recommended by my mother) and RJ Ledesma (whom I initially thought of as a bad writer just because he was a TV personality and host first). All three were PhilStar writers because that’s our paper, and I have grown accustomed to the style of the PhilStar that I can’t bear the thought of reading other papers.

Back to Letty Lopez’s article, it was entitled “Awake the inner bitch in you”. It was about the difference of being bitchy and catty, if there was any, and how to, as the title implies, awake the bitch in everyone. So this is the difference:

"When you’re catty, you cut people down out of anxiety (fear) or spite (malice). To you, everybody is a loser and therefore not worth your time or attention or friendship. If you do socialize, you do it out of need for company and to feed your already ready-to-burst ego. You feel so superior that no one can be your equal or better than you."

“To be a good bitch, you must focus on your creativity, your uniqueness. You must not be afraid to make mistakes. In fact, you use these mistakes as a starting point to bring out the courage to own up to these fumbles and feel within you a fount of emerging strength that could only make you better today than you were yesterday.”

I’m not gonna go into details of the article because that is tiring and kinda boring. But, the reason I posted this is for me to see whenever I post something here, and for me to decide if I am catty or bitchy. I guess, I’m the latter.

Holy Thursday Nostalgia

For devout Catholics, Holy Week is a time for sacrifice, penitence, repentance, and doing other good deeds that sort of solidifies one’s place in Heaven. Well, for the workaholics and busybodies, Holy Week is vacation time. But for money-less students like me, Holy Week is a time to relax and forget TV, if that’s possible. (before it was, when no TV station would air anything on Holy Thursday up to Black Saturday). And do things like read, listen to music, catch up on sleep, or post a blog.

This time also gave my high school friends and I the time to gather and hang out. Yes, just like the old times. Siopy, Rish, Cams and Marou, who are my high school buddies that I usually go out with, and I hanged out at Siopy’s place. Actually, we never had planned to do anything. Like, say, watch a movie or play Scrabble. We just, plainly, talked and talked. About anything worth babbling about, the past sem (or even year) that we led different lives. There were no uncomfortable silences. Just loads and loads of funny stories to tell.

Cams related her stories of what’s its like to be studying in a trimester school, which also happens to be tagged as a school for the rich and the dumb, which she is not. Marou also recounts her funny moments at school and never fails to recount the fun high school times, as well. Rish quietly smiles at all our stories, and shyly tries to evade our teases about her high school boyfriend. While Siopy, the funniest of the bunch, told funny stories that are bentang benta. Like, how her classmates would react after hearing an unusual English word or phrase. They would shout “Nose bleed” and pretend to be having a true nose bleed, but more exaggerated.

And while we were talking, and I also realized this much later, I realized that I miss high school. Terribly. When I was in high school, I wanted to graduate agad because of many things like a lousy teacher and a craving for a independent life, which was to be attained in college. I hated, sometimes, the closeness I had with my batchmates, friends, schoolmates, and teachers, because they sort of, I felt, inhibit me from doing what I really wanted to do. And that was enjoy life, by not studying hard, and being with friends more. A lot was expected of me then because everyone knew what I was capable of doing. And one, just one, slip-up, like a failed test or a misconduct, would illicit strange stares and tons of irritating questions like, “Anong nangyari sa’yo?” or “Ba’t ka naging ganyan?” so when I got to college, I was so happy. And high school seemed to be a far memory.

But as I had a talk with my friends (whom I miss terribly) I realized that high school is, still, something. It made me what I am today, I realized. Many things are uncomparable and high school really means a lot to everyone who went through it. And realizing these things made me realize, again, that there are many things in high school that is worth missing.

The companionship. Yes, I admit, I never had such a close bonding with anyone aside from my high school friends (the four mentioned above and others, too). We can talk of anything under the sun without absurd looks and reactions. We can make fun of anything, especially of one another, and still no one carries a grudge or bad feeling. We can, I can safely say, look foolish in front of each other, and still be comfortable afterwards.

The lakads. In college, people meet because of one common goal, and that is to study. In high school, we met because we basically from the same part of the town. The after-school gala and “practices” always bring fond memories of sadness, shame, fear, and most of all, happiness. The lakads, I may say, were simpler, cheaper, and more fun, then than now. Why? Maybe it’s true that simple things give the best experiences, and fondest memories. Nothing beats lying on a heap of dried coconut leaves (which we used as skirt costumes, by the way, for one Foundation Day presentation in 2^nd year) on a cool breezy night looking at the stars, and the moon. Sounds cheesy and romantic. But who cares? I was with my good friends (Kim and others).

The asarans. What is high school life without the asarans and kantiyawans? Incomplete, that is. In high school, I experienced this so much that, in our batch, teasing was an inevitable and an essential part of our closeness. We were so comfortable with each other that naming each one according to one’s faults or funny attitudes was considered okay. We were so diverse, in aliases, that everyone can be named after someone or something that no repetitions were necessary. Someone was named “Frog” for his cute and chubby double chin. A “Pagong” for her slow movements, and the shape of her head’s likeness with a turtles. A rat (or was it mice?) for his protruding front teeth and because someone also had the same features, he was named the “Rabbit.” So you think we were all animals, think again. There were also a “Pikit” or can be also called “Instik” or “Tulog” because of his chinky, and almost, slit-like eyes. Yet, that guy has a dark complexion. Talk about a Chinese Negro. One was called “Stick” for his unusual thinness. And because someone also had the same features, the other was named “Kalansay.” If I ranted on every pang-asar we had back in high school, this post would be as long as I can imagine. Sticks break bones; names supposedly break spirits. Not with us. We used jokes, teasing and insults so commonly (so ordinarily) that the edge, the stigma, the hurt slowly vanished. It is because of this background we grew up in why each one of us is strong. 

So to sum this all up, I can say that I still miss high school. That these posts, which are results of my mood swings and nostalgic moments, would be present in my blog. Always. And I would agree without hesitation to experience high school again.

But I will also say that, sometimes, change is inevitable. So college is still a good thing. Because I learned a lot, in and out of the classroom. Things that I know I can’t learn in high school.

But also there are things that college fails to have, and high school remains to be the best at. This is when I became and developed into who I am now (although I am still improving as a person) and this is the time when I set my boundaries, limitations, views, priorities, values, criteria, ideal qualities in guys and friends, and everything in between. The friends that I have, or had, in high school are still the people who know me the best, and can describe me in the best way a person, other than me, can.

Getting Started: The Marcel Proust Questionnaire

name: jo ann madarang
your chief chracteristic: moody
your favorite qualities in a man: God-loving, reliability, calmness
your favorite qualities in a woman: intelligence
your favorite qualities in friends: trustworthiness, sense of humor
your biggest flaw: being hot-tempered, tactless
your favorite occupation: being a UP student
your idea of happiness: being with the people i love
your idea of misery: living without God's guidance
where would you like to live: away from the people i hate
your favorite colors: green and white
your pet aversion: kittens, red ants
your favorite hero: Antonio Luna
your favorite heroine: Basilia Tantoco
your real-life hero/heroine: my mom
your favorite motto: the greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do.
your favorite virtue: honesty
your favorite author: nelson de mille
your favorite food and drinks: spaghetti, cheese cake, egg sandwich; water
your favorite names: gabriel, berenice, joseph, rich
for what fault you have the least tolerance: laziness
for what fault you have the most tolerance: ignorance
what is your present state of mind: confused but contented
how would you like to die: quickly, painlessly

Just a day. Just an ordinary day.

Why did I make a blog? Well, obviously, to have somewhere to post my weird ideas, and rantings. And I plan to make a blog entry every time I feel writing about something or if I feel bored.

Just a day. Just an ordinary day.

For some, Valentine's Day (which is a pagan holiday) is very special. The culmination of every couple's effort to be patient with the other. For some, it is a celebration. A celebration of every firsts, or last. Well, for me, it's just an ordinary day. I spent the whole day in front of the PC, trying to gather every info I can about my research paper. Another thing that haunts me every time I try to relax. (I didn't write this on the very same day because I haven't got a blog then.)

I saw red-wearing men and women walking on the streets of Pedro Gil, going to Rob. Maybe for a date. Or maybe to buy something for their special someones.

When I reached Rob, the people were unusually many, considering it was a Wednesday. Designer Blooms even created a "stall" at the other side of the mall to cater to customers coming from the Pedro Gil area. And when I got out, I can say that designer blooms made a killing, to use a cliche. And for women, they are trying to search the shops for a nice shirt or a cap to give. Even at the brickwall (the area in front of UP Manila where students sit and have a smoke) I saw this well-dressed guy, carrying a big bouquet of flowers waiting anxiously. Checking his phone for messages for his special someone.

Why waste the time? And the money, too? After that day, life still goes on. and there will come a time, that that day will only be a "has been". So why exert effort?

I sound as if I'm griping, right? Maybe yes, maybe no.

Well, who knows? Maybe next Hearts' day, I won't be "busy" writing a blog entry. I'd be busy going to Rob myself.


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*This entry was from my very first blog, which I have deleted. This is my first ever blog post written on Valentine's Day.