Dear God

I am once more at lost.

A part of me wants to stay. I love what I do and I am even more excited for the things that I am projected to do. You've given me the heart for humanitarian action and I am just in awe that I can actually do the two things I love the most at the same time: reach out to people and still be in the media as You have called me to be.

http://highmoonmedia.com

But a lot of things have happened and these have gotten worse over the past few months. I have been treated a subject, not as someone with potential. The things I have been doing lately were the things she did not want to do. I have been treated as stupid for not knowing; much of the information I needed to learn were being withheld from me. Interactions have been primarily based on mood swings and I have become a sponge expected to absorb every bit of emotional instability, bitterness and inequality.

I heard them talking too. She sends her intentions of leaving. My boss tries her best to withhold her, make her come back simply because she is valued. Honestly, I cannot blame my boss for that, she really is a smart girl, even smarter than I am. But as I see them haggle about her future, I see clearer that I will be only be kept because she will not be around. And when she comes back, I will return to the same old me, a mere and without potential subject.

That is why part of me wants to leave. I want to try new waters, better waters in fact and see the role You want me to play in this world. I have been at lost once and I do not want to be withheld again of the things God wants me to have.

When he gave me an informal offer, people around me believes this may be one of the best things that could ever happen to me. Who would ever get an offer from an international organization whose director is also a Christian. I knew this is You working. I would never get this connection if it were not for You and through Your church.

But I am afraid of change. I have always been and You reprimanded me often for this. I am frightened of the people that I will be leaving. Furthermore, I am afraid to see myself leaving without learning anything and not being remembered, not necessarily for being great but at least for being a decent person.

I know the former was a blessing and I definitely do not want to walk out from that. But I do know as well that this is an opportunity placed by no one else but You. I am torn. I wish You could just tell me directly what I need to do. I want to follow You. When I decided to give my life to You, it is no longer I that live but You who live in me.

God, I wish for an easy exit on this one, no hard feelings, no conflicts, no riots.

As I listen to myself now, I guess it's time to be honest. Dear Lord, I want to leave and move towards the life that You want me to live. Give me the strength to say I am sorry. Give me the humility to admit my inability. Allow me to leave and be remember as a decent person who really did not give much care of herself when everybody did.

Most of all, give me the strength to be able to do Your will.

Always,
Your daughter

On your wedding day

My prayers are with you on your wedding day.

Actually, they have always been with you. When you went out to war, I cried daily for your safety. I almost hurt myself beating the floor in prayer when you first declared that God was worthy of your praise. When your spirit died, I prayed for your revival, without really thinking of the possibility that you may never be with me.

But this is love and obedience. When I decided to trust God’s promise that we were going to be together, I was actually hoping that God would be faithful as much as I would be. I really thought that through my prayers, I would be able to pull you out of that dungeon and aid you in breaking away from those chains of doubt. I guess, in your eyes, I was not good enough to help you out.

So this is how it feels like, wanting to spend every waking moment asleep as every minute awake reminds me of the reality that you did not choose me. And no prayer, no blood, or sacrifice could ever change that.

But I don’t regret ever saying a prayer for you. In fact, I pray for happiness more than you deserve. I pray that God will open your eyes so that you will be able to see that God has always been with you and His angels have kept you safe every time you are deployed.

I pray that you realize your worth in life. You do not need to do so many things to prove your value. Your parents have always been proud of you. You do not need to be as intelligent as your eldest brother, as creative as your sister, and as charming as your other brother. You are valued for the man that you are.

The impulsive decision-maker that you are, I pray that you do not regret this decision with her. Whenever you feel like complaining, whenever you feel like she does not understand, whenever you would doubt if ever you really made the right decision, keep in mind that there are two people in this world who sacrificed their future for you to be together.

I pray for unending happiness with her, with God’s eyes and favor upon you both.

One day I will be able to face you again, hopefully with a complete understanding of what has happened. On that day, hopefully, I have been flying free. I would be able to smile at you like when we were little and adore your children the same way I had loved the kids around me.

For now, allow me to rest my heart. It has been wounded too much for too long I do not even think it throbs. But I will be all right. God has always made me feel better. You know, I am a lot stronger than I seem.

Until then, my prayers are with you, as it had been when I started praying for you nine years ago.

falling in love again

(If you really think I was going to write a full entry on romance and sweet nothings, you don't know me at all. Instead, to refresh your frustration, refer to the fireworks post for background.)

The minute I realized I was under a fireworks display with ashes falling on my face, I instantly fell in love with the moment. For me, it was one of greatest moments God ever did on Earth and I would continue to look forward to seeing another one of these whatever happens.

It has been five years since that moment and it has brought me nothing but joy until last December's fireworks in UP. Whatever happened during the late months of last year definitely had something to do with my inner frustrations and it was until later that I realized I was keeping hatred deep inside me such that even the smallest thing I would usually appreciate were nothing but mere moments of action and living.

I stopped thinking about all my bitterness the moment God made me realized the wounds I was trying to caress deep in me, seeking for nothing good for the people involved. All the hatred had gone away. Maybe it was time for me to grow up.

My friends and I decided to watch the pyrolympics at the Mall of Asia on its last day. As usual, I instantly said yes even if I knew I would have a hard time asking permission to go out that night. But it didn't matter. I was going to watch the fireworks. The thought made me happy again.

There were two sets of fireworks to be display and I have no idea who sponsored each one. As the first set started, I found myself excited, stood up and looked up. Although the rockets had shoot way up such that some were actually above us, I was actually disappointed. These were the same things I see every year and I was looking for something new. I took pictures instead.

Ok. So there was that heart shaped formation. cheesy. eew. no thanks. But then, these were fireworks and I don't usually make a fuss about it. Maybe the kid has grown up. Memories of last year keep flashing in my head.

When the second set started, I knew I had to get over the same feeling once more and this time I have to prevail. Instead of taking much pictures, I looked up to the sky and said a little greeting to God. A few minutes after, I felt myself smiling. It was that happy thought again, the feeling that left me a few months back.


It has been five years since that moment and it has brought me nothing but joy. It has been years and I'm still holding on to life. Maybe the child has to grow up in me. Maybe some things had to change. But it didn't matter. The moment the fires rained on me, I was happy. I instantly fell in love with the moment and I would be looking forward for more.

job hunt, plans, reality

It's been two months since I've been out of school and I still remain jobless until now. The company that paid for my last year in college has not contacted me yet for a job they promised me last year and I'm actually starting to lose hope on that.

Well, of course my dad has his hopes still high. Actually that's his dream for me, to see me working for that television network and eventually rise into position.

Honestly, just a few months before graduation, I've started to feel a tinge of doubt in working for that network. I knew for myself that when I took up journalism, I had nothing but newspaper in mind, to chase after deadlines and pursue political stories. I guess that desire is still trying to make its way out of me.

But then, reality bites.

Just a week ago, a friend from one of my education classes called me up to tell me that there are job openings for teacher in an international school near our area. This school is in desperate need of grade school teachers such that a lot of their teachers had gone abroad (ahem), and is therefore not that strict when it comes to requirements for job applicants. Fresh graduates are most welcome to apply, as well as non-Education majors. License is not an ultimate requirement, although is an advantage.

International school, exclusive school for girls. Grade school. (Note: most schools require extra units in Elementary Education to be taken up by teachers in order to teach for grade school) With benefits. Near the Area. This is actually a good opportunity if I really want to pursue an Education-related track. The only doubt I have in me is that there is a big possibility that I might not be able to get out of teaching and venture journalism.

Then again, I'm not so sure what my dad would be saying about this.

This afternoon, Weng, Masol and I went to a job fair in hopes to get a chance with any media-related company. Although this job fair was sponsored by a newspaper, this company itself was not looking for anyone to hire. All that's left are mostly call centers and crap, everybody here will definitely kill me if I were to get that job.

Lately, I've been thinking of what fields to venture aside from politics since there isn't much opportunity for that. (reality bites. damn it) Although children and/or education is an option since it is my advocacy, there aren't any opportunities for that in this country, unless I try applying at UNESCO (kamusta naman). I could still try to be a teacher, but then I haven't talked to my family seriously about that (haha. coward me). I've also become interested in travels, most especially after Weng and I have finished our thesis which required us to go to places we've never been. I'm also thinking of that as a field, but not like the high society, places where you can have a vacation thing. I'm more interested to focus more on unknown & unappreciated places in the country, discussing its historical and cultural aspects and put emphasis on reasons why Philippines is a place to be proud of. (Wow. Studying about indigenous cultures excites me even more).

Bottomline, I'm still trying to look for some social relevance in life even if I were not directly involved with politics.

Of course, these are all my ideas, MY plans and not taking into consideration my religion and my family. I think I need another session of that career guidance thing with a christian counselor.

still blessed despite all these

(disclaimer: if you're not so religious, might as well not read this. haha)

Every time I open my YM and my emails, messages would pop out from friends expressing their sympathy, hope on my situation and I guess I've never felt so blessed to have such people around me.

Come to think of it, this situation I am in is not as big as a matter of life and death to provoke people with such reactions. There's a lot of other pertinent things to worry about, like that rice shortage, oil and basic necessities price hike. But then, here they are, telling me that they'll pray for me and how I love them more.

This somehow reminds me of the book It's Not About Me by Max Lucado. In one of his chapters, he posed the question, are people strengthened by your struggles? "Your faith in the face of suffering cranks up the volume of God's song."

Maybe my situation, as simple as it can be, had somehow made other people look once more to their long-forgotten faith in hopes that their prayers will help me. Whatever, I am ready to accept this unfortunate event anyway. It's not a messianic thought to compensate whatever desperation I feel. If God will be glorified in whatever that is happening, I will smile and welcome it with open arms. Because in the first place, (Romans 11: 36) "[f]or from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To God be the glory forever!"

desperately begging

For the first time in my life, I actually felt like I'm begging prayers to some people because of this incomplete grade. I've texted and called up my friends, my former bible study leader, my friends from my former university. Aside from that, I've explained to almost all missionaries we were with in Quezon the time I came back from Manila. And god, my dad has practically told everyone in church about it. Even my not-so-religious friends promised to pray for me.

It's not a habit of mine to beg for prayers, really. It's not because of some egoistic tendencies or whatever of that sort, I just don't like others worrying about me (like for instance my dad getting so tense the past few days because he really wants to see me march on the 27th). At the same time, it's not really my thing to share my struggles with others until it's almost over (unless you're my super friend or you exist right when I am in the midst of my struggles).

Then again, begging for prayers can be a sort of hope that everything will turn out well in a few days. And I guess it's like accepting I can't do anything else now. I've bugged my professor too much, she'll be pissed off with me anytime now. The only thing left for me is to have faith and accept that only God can do the miracles I need right now.

God, I really want to march on graduation day...

at long last

I was assinged to convene the student council's general assembly for today. Apparently, much of the meeting's agenda has something to do with coming student council elections which only meant I had to face the many questions the juniors had in mind.

You may have not imagine this, but I was actually the only senior and second termer (if there is such a word) present during the meeting. And so I had to discuss the rules of the incumbent as well. And everybody seemed to ask so many questions.

Anyway...

As it appears, the binding factor between me and all those people behind that Wednesday incident was actually the elections. Even if I somehow grew away from them, a part of me still wants to extend my hand to help them in the best and yet subtlest way I can. And I actually quite miss them.

This was also the first time I had a long conversation with the girl I quarelled with for losing my digital recorder. From my perspective, I think we both got over it and was ready to move on.

At the same time, I was able to kid around that feudalistic relationship thing around them. Although I haven't really told them the effect these words had on me, at least now I can safely say I had let go of my anger and bitterness towards them and am ready to take a new responsibility and work with them.

bloggers

I opened my thesis adviser’s blog in the attempts to unearth her old j199 files for her students. Being a student who doesn’t really know what is and what will happen to our thesis, I guess a few help from the once other class wouldn’t hurt.

I always knew she was good at web design, her forte being the New Media. I wouldn’t wonder if there were marquees or whatever that would make her blog so different and so grand.

Apparently, it was anything but simple and yet quite complicated. I know I’m not good at making clear images through words here so might as well browse it yourself but bear me the pain at least. Her page was in white, a few texts in pink and black. The sophistication of her blog lies on the very words posted and I felt like mine is nothing but a crap.

Maybe I need to say something more relevant but as she says, blogging is a sort of preventive medicine for someone in for a mental breakdown. Maybe this is just my therapy, anger management, stress reliever, mere diversion in doing thesis, whatever. I guess my battle is not always political but a sort of internal struggle to find myself. Maybe that’s why I have all these personalities and wonders whoever is talking.

what i hate most about couples

My mom and dad were in a argument when I left the house a few minutes ago. Apparently, despite public misconception, pastors do argue with his wife. It's not a perfect family, you know. (I'm not trying to put my religion in a bad light or anything of the like. I think the beauty of whatever quarrels happening is that they still end up together.)

What I was happy about when they were arguing was that my youngest brother and sister were no at home and that meant I don't need to worry of what effects it may have on them. And so the moment I realized this was going to be a long fight, I took my violin with intention to start bowing and make very loud sounds of the A scale.

But of course I didn't. That would send so many messages that I don't want to get myself involved in. However, realizing that my brother had been playing the guitar, I took the violin and played outside. For the first time, I was able to perfect the sounds of every patterns done in A scale. I was still hearing them argue.

Actually, both of them were right and wrong at the same time. It's just an issue of ego.

Ego.

Come to think of it, I do have my own level of ego and most probably it's more than what they both have combined. So I know, at some point, if ever I was faced in the same situation, I would have ended up mad. At the same time, being in training for the college elections, I was taught how to argue and to defend my stand. Having the two ideas combined, I am almost sure my husband (whoever that will be) will be having a hard time controling me. And now that I think of it, I hate being controled, believing that I have my own mind and I can decide for myself what I will be doing with my life. (Talk about ego and growing up being very individualistic)

Maybe that's why I haven't thought of looking for a boyfriend at my age (when my aunts are pushing me to look for one, my friends trying to get me in a blind date, my mom bugging me that I need to get one soon. sigh...) I guess with my ego and all that, God needs to work on my other personalities.

magulo lang talaga ako

haay. andami nang nangyari. andaming realizations, kamalian at kung anu-ano pa mang ka-kyemehan. andrama nga talaga ng buhay ko.

una. andami kong reklamo sa buhay, mga nakikita kong mali sa ibang tao na hindi ko na napapansin kung ano bang problema ko. puro sa iba ko na lag sinisisi ang kalungkutang nararamdaman ko, matagal bago ko natantuhan na may responsibilidad din ako sa mga alanganing pakiramdam ko.

kung tutuusin, bakit nga ba ako nagpapaka-depress gayong masaya ang paligid ko? kung hindi pa mawawala ang recorder ko, hindi ko makikita ng malinaw na matagal na pala akong nagkikimkim ng galit sa kanila.

at sa kauna-unahang pagkakataon, napuno ko ng kasuklaman. sinubukan kong itago, maging kaswal na lang sa mga tao at patuloy na itanggi na masama na pala ang loob ko, pero lalo lang itong naghihintay ng pagkakataong sumabog.

kung iisipin, bakit nga ba ako magtatanim ng ganito katinding galit? sa totoo lang, napakaliit na bagay lang. nagsimula ito mula ng sabihan nila akong pyudal ang relasyon namin ng tatay ko. pakiramdam ko, bigla akong kinain ng sarili kong mga ideyolohiya. nakakasakal ang mga batayan. higit sa lahat, naramdaman kong ginamit lang ako.

kahit ano pa man ang ginawa nila sa akin, may mali pa rin ako. maling ipikikita kong ayos lang ako ngunit hindi pala. wala na rin akong pinagkaiba sa isang plastik. maling ipinilit ko sa sarili kong napakalinis kong tao pero ni hindi ko masabing nagagalit na ako. higit sa lahat, maling ibinuhos ko sa iba ang galit ko. kahit marami na rin siyang kasalanan sa akin, hindi pa rin siya ang puno't dulo ng galit ko kaya hindi patas para sa kanya ang mga nangyayari.

dalawang buwan. dalawang buwan para magising ako sa katotohanan.

hindi ko pa rin nasasabi sa taong dahilan ng galit na ito kung ano ang tunay kong nararamdaman. hindi pa ako nakakahingi ng paumanhin sa taong binuhusan ko ng galit. alam ko kailangan kong gawin iyon pero ito na ba ang tamang oras para muli kong guluhin ang mga buhay nila?

hindi ko rin alam. pero sa akin ngayon, mula ng tanggapin ko sa sarili kong galit ako, unti-unti ko na ring nabibitiwan ang pakiramdam na ito.

fireworks

(stories of the firecrackers, days before New Year’s Eve and a few notes on my Chinese heritage)

One thing I would always look forward to every Christmas season is sitting under a fireworks display with ashes falling on my head, as if the lights are showering over me, as if blessings are pouring from heaven and there I was, catching a few of its drops.

It has been five years now when I started making efforts to sit under the grand display and it has always brought me joy. But somehow things have started to change in ways I could not explain.

Maybe this was a mere product of routine, but when the fireworks started after the Lantern Parade, I dragged Karla in attempt to at least go under the display. Karla was screaming in awe. This may have been her first time to actually be that close.

I was looking at the lights and asked myself, why couldn’t I feel the same excitement and joy as I have felt for the past five years? I could hear Karla’s excitement and fear both at the same time, a similar expression I could see on my seven year old brother as he appreciated the lights but feared that exploding sound. I asked myself, has the child in me grew up that I no longer enjoy the same things I used to have?

Whatever the answer was, I no longer cared. Karla had enjoyed the fireworks, and so should I.

On the 30th of December, my parents brought the youth to Riverbanks, Marikina to enjoy the fireworks. We were to be in groups and decide for ourselves where to sit during the display. For two years now, Mayen, a fourteen year old girl, would accompany me, buy balot and look for a place under the fireworks display. Only the two of us would get satisfied with this form of enjoyment.

This time, Tintin accompanied us. Although we couldn’t find any balot vendor that night, we bought chips instead and sat only a few meters away from where the fireworks were to be launched.

Tintin was shouting in excitement, her hands as if reaching for its lights. Mayen, with a big smile, was standing in awe of everything. There I was again looking up at everything. The lights were launched a bit low such that the ones faulty were actually coming towards us. Ashes were still in fires when it reached our heads. My eyes were starting to get irritated but I knew in my mind this was exactly what I liked most of being under the display.

I knew I had no expression of joy or excitement on my face. How can I be so unhappy? What was happening to me?

Whatever that feeling was, I wouldn’t want these two girls beside me feeling the same misery because of me. I stopped myself from asking and tried pretending to enjoy what I was watching.

Thoughts ran through my head for the next few hours. If there was one thing I learned this year, I realized that I can be as hard as my mind would want me to be. But why do I have to be so cold?

Come to think of it, I met so many people with different personalities this year, which is good. But as my mind moves forward to the more recent memories, most of the people I’ve met and had been close to this year were the ones who looked down on me and on the things I hold dear. These are the people who had forced me to be the being that I am now, incapable of feeling pity, compassion and guilt towards others.

I really don’t like to blame people for my misfortunes or anything of that sort. I can focus on the solution more than the problem itself but what should be the solution to patch up the feeling of affliction, disappointment, and distrust?

My dad woke me up early the evening of the 31st. I thought it was time for us to go to my grandfather’s house for New Year’s Eve. Realizing that it was too early, my dad really wanted us to spend some time at the church and do some “fireworks”. Although I knew the fireworks he was referring to were just those crappy little rockets he bought at Divisoria, I felt I forced enough to accompany my family.

Along with the cell group leaders, we had coffee, had a few talks and went out on the street to start our “fireworks display”. The guys launched the rockets and lighted a mini- sinturon ni Hudas (Judas’ belt).

I’ve always hated that sinturon ni Hudas. It’s nothing but a dangerous, loud firecracker. And since the Chinese believe in welcoming the New Year with a loud noise, the sinturon was my grandfather’s way of fulfilling the Chinese tradition.

Yes, I have some Chinese heritage in my blood that my cousins and I never really seem to enjoy. For one thing, not one of us got that yellowish white skin. Some of my relatives believe we were able to inherit the small Chinese eyes but only on the first five years of our lives. It must have expanded in a peculiar way that they were now unequally rounded and when we smile, it becomes small and stretches sideward with a few lines to give a tinge of those small Chinese eyes. If it weren’t for my extremely edited graduation pictures, I would have forgotten the thought I ever looked Chinese in my life.

At the same time, my grandfather believed in sukob, Chinese astrology and a few notes on feng shui, fill your house with circles and a noisy welcome on New Year’s Eve. How we dreaded the noise. The only good thing our generation could think of this Chinese heritage is that we may marry a member of a Chinese clan.

I teased my dad for even buying that sinturon, asking him if he never got tired of our annual 2000+ pieces dosage of that firecracker. He simply ignored me.

And since we girls couldn’t really enjoy the sinturon, we played with the watusi (dancing firecrackers) instead. I took a few packs, crossed the street to where my mom was sitting and started scratching a piece to the sidewalk.

I recall a principle included in the Montessori Method which states that a child is to be let alone to do his “work” as he pleases. Using the hands to touch the materials, the teacher must be very careful when intervening such that the child should not lose his concentration. Through this concentration, the child is solely focused on his work until he is satisfied. If the child loses the concentration needed to achieve the work and thus fails to do what he pleases, this can cause an emotional disturbance to the child.

I felt like a child in full concentration of my play that if disturbed will definitely be killing someone. I was a bit far from everyone else and I could hear some men shouting at me, “May batang naglalaro!” but I didn’t care. As I scratch the pieces on the cemented floor and glide my foot with the watusi under me, I felt satisfaction fill me.

A few minutes before midnight of New Year’s Eve, every member of the Agoncillo family went out to the balcony to witness that deafening sinturon being lighted up and explode. As we were waiting, we could see all the fireworks being launched that night. Given that my grandfather lived in Libis, Quezon City, we could see from his balcony even as far from those in Makati. My aunts were very much satisfied with the view as my cousin, Ian, kept taking pictures.

Given that I am one of the smallest in the family, I stayed on one side of the balcony away from where my aunts were watching. With my not-so-good view, only Johnny, my 2nd cousin, stayed beside me. A few times could we only see some firecrackers and they were near enough for me to see them clearly. I realized this time, I didn’t have to force myself to be happy. Maybe I don’t need to remind myself what the year has brought upon me. Life doesn’t always have to be the best. This time, I don’t need to be near the lights to appreciate its beauty.

My grandfather signaled the maid to light the sinturon. The sound was bouncing to the walls of the pelota court which made it even more deafening. My grandfather’s sisters were covering theirs ears with satisfaction as the sounds were believed to be driving the evil omens away. My grandfather sat on a bench staring at the little red lights the crackers were making. My grandmother held onto the rails of the balcony. After her stroke around six years ago, she was partially deaf and at a time like this, my cousins envied her for not hearing the noise.

(My cousins) Donna was able to slip inside the house. Andrew had earphones covering his ears, his eyes rolled a little from where the sinturon made the noise. Ian was still taking pictures, trying to ignore what was happening until my uncle, her dad, stopped her and made her look towards the sinturon. My mom brought me halfway downstairs, away from everyone else, hearing the sound louder than before. I covered my ears and looked as if I was hiding behind my mother.

I could hear the sinturon loud enough to know it was there and I know even we will be continuing the family tradition despite our hatred of it. I will continue to live hearing it every New Year’s Eve.

Maybe I don’t have answers to all my questions now. Maybe the solution to this depression won’t be coming soon. Things will be better still. I will continue to live anticipating the day firecracker ashes fall upon me again. God will revive the meaning of life in me.

The thought gave me a momentary smile as the sinturon made and even louder sound.

what if it's too late

A friend greeted me through Yahoo! Messenger (YM) tonight.

She asked me how I was and how my vacation had started. I told her how happy I am to be away from the people that had brought nothing but disappointment these past few days. It's not that that response was anything sarcastic or full of bitterness. I just felt the need to be away from all my troubles and think about things that would probably make me happy, like the street children’s Christmas party to happen this Saturday.

As she expressed how she no longer cares what they think about her, I told her the same thing. I told her how an old friend, part also of the group that was involved in that Wednesday morning incident, came to me to apologize for everything that has happened. Despite this, I told her that damage has been done and I can’t force myself to act as if nothing has happened. However, I assured her that I will try my best to be as casual and as friendly as I had been with them given that I get to stay away from them this vacation.

She commented on how detached and cold I could be. The one that has led the Wednesday morning incident even noticed how nowadays I would no longer greet him as fondly as I would and tell him stories of life. It seems that even he has noticed the changes happened between us and has made some sort of expression of sadness as I started to disregard even him.

I told her I felt touched to hear that, to know that even the manifestations of my nothingness and idleness had actually been appreciated by him especially when all I see based on how they had always treated me is a mere body necessary for collective action, nothing but a mechanism for what seemed to be called an ideology.

But it’s too late for that now.

If there was one thing this Wednesday morning incident has taught me, I learned to be as heartless as my mind would want to be. The damage control had been too late. The attempt not to inhibit pain had not succeeded.

i needed to hear that

I’m not sure if people had ever noticed the extent of damage the Wednesday morning incident had brought upon me but one thing is for sure, I was at the point of giving up my affiliation not because I do not believe in the principles but because of the attitudes of the people within that group.

Thursday afternoon. I was with Jam and Weng drinking coffee at Starbucks. An old activist friend texted me, hoping if we could get together and have a talk. We settled to meet at 12:30 in the afternoon.

What should be a 12:30 pm meeting became a 4:30 pm gathering. If we had not met at the lobby by chance, the talk would have come a bit later.

He asked how I was, how my thesis had been going, how the council had been doing and all those other concerns in life. I asked him how his academics and relationships were. It was basically a small chit-chat.

Afterwards, he asked me how I was after that Wednesday morning incident. Not that I was pretty shocked that he knew about this, but I didn’t really want him involved, being the good friends that we were.

I told him what happened in detailed; how the ‘conversation’ went, what my responses were, how I told my dad about this incident and what his reactions were, what these people answered when I told them my decision and how they treated me badly afterwards.

He apologized for not being there amidst all these. He explained how wrong they had been about me. If he had the same plans for me with regard to the movement, he would have told me himself but he chose not to because he knew what kind of person I was and he respects that. In his words, it was stupid to ever refer my relationship with my father as feudal, as if they got no parents they care about, as if they knew not to respect others. They had been reprimanded for doing such.

He told me things had changed after I told them my decision, that they had truly treated me badly. He apologized for the turn out.

He apologized that I was told not to tell my parents about the incident. It was so wrong not to take what my parents would have thought about this.

He apologized for having referred a very good friend of mine to having problems in terms of ideology. In his point of view, how dare they judge her to the extent of accusing her with such. It was so wrong to say such things. Moreover, it was wrong to tell me that, someone who had been brought to the movement by her.

He expressed his hope that everything would end at that moment, as if nothing had happened. He assured me that the incident would not be spreading to other people. He also wished that we would all act as if nothing has happened.

I told him how pressured and disappointed I had been with them. Although I appreciate the apology, I cannot assure that I can act as if nothing has happened. Maybe in time, I will but this cannot be expected of me in the next few days.

I actually felt better hearing this. I know for myself I do not need to hear that I was right and they were wrong. I just wanted to be recognized of my viewpoints, and be treated with respect for that even if they disagree.

Maybe the misadventure had some good effect after all. So what if this was a sort of damage control? I was thankful enough that God had made me feel better now more than ever.

misadventures

Stand UP had organized yesterday a charity concert for the benefit of the families of the disappeared.

So where was I during the event? at home, staring at my laptop waiting for some miracle to happen. What that miracle is, I do not know. One thing’s for sure. I honestly can no longer tolerate being around the people involved in this Wednesday morning incident.

My friends kept telling me this was not the sort of action I would usually do to express my deepest disagreement on people. But what can I say? I can’t help feeling this way.

Melai had asked Weng where I was. Unconsciously, Weng told her that I chose not to go, despite the noble cause, vaguely describing my disappointment on a certain group. It was a sort of statement against them, she said.

Apparently, someone else overheard them. The next day, Airah came to me and told about the rumored they heard why I did not make it to the concert. In her terms, it was a sort of statement against some organization.

I honestly felt shocked hearing this from her. Obviously, I could never show how shocked I had been. I just told her I’ve been very tired about everything that has been happening to me to the point that I needed to get away and rest. I’m not sure if she took my answer seriously.

sabi ng subtitle ng Kdrama: how to do?

I just realized I have been eating more than I usually would. Although I do not fill myself up, I don't think I was that sort of hungry everytime I look for food.

I have a perfectly good idea how much money I would be spending just to put up our thesis so I definitely know that I have to control the money going in and out of my hands. But I can't help it.

As far as I can remember, the last time I felt this was about two years ago, when I felt the only way to ease my depresssion was to spend money on something which happened to be that Backstreet Boys concert in Manila.

Depression. Could it be?

It must have been that Wednesday when things were about to change. The day had opened with new possibilities, things I never imagined to come upon me. The day had provided me with enough answers to the why's of the people around me as another had also opened the door for what may be the realization of a childhood dream. Given the great things upon me, why would I still be depressed?

Probably my body had absorbed the implications of that Wednesday morning even if my mind was not yet able to comprehend. It was until that Friday morning that I truly realized what that Wednesday morning would allow and forbid me to do.

How I wish I could say it now.

I guess to forever hold my peace would actually kill me. But saying it out loud would also kill me, or someone else just the same. I've never felt so torn in my life.

political calling on the 29th

I am suppose to be in Los Banos for more than a week. If I really value my service to the students more than I do for my parents, I would have persisted. Apparently, despite this sense of value, a part of me still want to respond to that call and it grows every tick of the second.

KASAMA sa UP National Congress was scheduled last week, 24 October to 28 October while the General Assembly of Student Councils (GASC) from 29 October to 30, 2007. The only reason I was not allowed to go is because of a birthday celebration on the 29th. It is but a tradition that all family members be present on a birthdate. However, out of the five birthdays, I had not been home for at least once and I knew I just had to make up for it.

At the same time, the 29th is also the start of the semestral break for the primary and secondary levels. My parents had been planning for an out-of-town trip with some of the youth from the church. Surely, I wouldn't want to miss that.

But then, GASC is a very important assembly. Terry Ridon's term as the Student Regent (SR) is about to end. The GASC will be the avenue for the voting of the new SR. Ridon's beginning effort to call for a policy review of the Tuition and Other Fees Increase (TOFI) must still be pursued and if the person elected in such a position took a pro stand on this issue, all efforts will be turned to dust. Surely that cannot be allowed!

And yet, here I am, on the 29th of October, at home and quite alone for some time. My parents went to Divisoria. My brother played basketball with his friends for the whole day. My sister went to the dentist and eventually decided to hang out at the church. If this wasn't the only available time I have to meet with my former bible study leader for a few hours, I wouldn't have gone out of the house in the first place.

The owner of the estate the church was buying had to move his meeting with my dad from this morning to Wednesday morning. That meant the out-of-town trip will not come to reality since my dad have other appointments on Friday.

I should have been in Los Banos in the first place, even if I was to spend 'my' day tough on members of other political parties and it would have been worthwhile still.

things I must have forgotten

disclaimer: if you're not into drama, don't read. may actually be boring...

After all those months of total conflict and angst, at last I can now say I'm quite getting over it.

No, the conflict has definitely not resided. As long as our dear chairperson never detach party affliations from council affairs and start being professional, I doubt if conflicts will ever reside. But that's beside the point now.
I'm actually feel better now (after so long).

I guess I must have found some sort of renewed strength after I've talked with my new cell grop leader, Ate Mai/ Val (people call her different names; Mai by my Christian org, Campus Crusade for Christ (CCC), Val by my college; I refer to her as Ate Mai).

After Ate Emmylou resigned as a staff of CCC and enrolled in a bible school, I honestly felt quite lost. Being that individualistic person who tries to solve problems on mere self effort, getting out of the box and start depending on another person and then being left alone again makes my coping up stage even longer. But of course, I could never tell her that. Selfish me. Come to think of it, I may actually just be needing someone to actually be "there" everytime I need to release every unstable feeling my environment provokes me. And for quite some time, I was actually back to my individualistic effort of coping up until ---

I never actually knew Ate Mai that much except that she graduated with a degree on Broadcast Communication and that she is the one who handles target area prayer group for CMC (a group of students who pray for a certain college to come and know Jesus). However, I can really say she had always been there, even before the elections. Her little efforts of texting me for updates on the election, on how I was doing after Bikoy lost (which by the way, I seldom respond to) actually meant nothing to me until now.

It's been two months since school started. Bible study should have been that long too but I never had the chance to attend even one, much more, I never had the opportunity to officially meet Ate Mai as my new cell leader.

And so, we decided to meet for lunch today. And yes, I told her my stories, ALL of them, from my family history, to my how I started to get involved in college politics, how my experience was with my political party, and our church ministry, the free pre-school we are running, and my dreams of becoming a SPED teacher.

I could never forget what she told me.

Ever since I ran for college politics (as Journalism Representative two years ago), she, together with the CMC target area prayer group, never stopped praying for me and Micah (the other Journalism Representative, also a Christian). She said they knew we needed strength to stand up.

She also heard the story of a drunk session during an induction of an organization through a culturally shocked first year Journalism student. This freshman told her that one of the drunk people commented on my strong personal convictions against drinking and smoking so they never really attempted to invite me to join them because I would never do such. "At some point, I felt proud kasi ok ka pa rin pala," were the next few words Ate Mai told me.

The next module for the bible study was designed to people who has commited some work for CCC, discipleship, target area, witnessing, at least something. However, she also saw the things I'm already commited to. There will be no pressure for me. Instead, "I want to be of service to you. I want to help you."

I've been longing to hear those words from anyone, that he/she cares not for what I do for them as a member of the council, that after all the personal attacks on my integrity and feeling degraded, I can still find people who looks through those things.

The trap had been so deep, I thought I could never get out alive. I tried crying out for help, no one seems to listen. There were signs of people hearing me but they too couldn't think of how to get me out. On mere solo effort, I try my best to escape when in fact had I looked harder, I would have seen that thin line lowered down to save me. It's a small effort, but I know it's enough to get me away from an almost death trap I've fallen into.

That afternoon, I decided to attend Movement Life (ML), a small fellowship every Friday organized by CCC. As I entered the Student Center and saw no one I knew except Ate Mai and Ate Neri, I actually felt relieved. Had I been used to being on top, I forgot how it felt like to be down below, that life when nobody knew who I was, when I could just stay as quiet as I want to be without anybody caring that I be such, that life of a follower and do nothing but to sit in a corner and watch. I never felt so simple and yet grateful.

It must have been a while since I had a chance to talk to God without doing or worrying anything else. I never felt so grateful.

I am going to be better.

There are new every morning. Great is thy faithfulness.
It's been a while since I've seen the dawn.
But this day, I will be experiencing the refreshing moment.
At long last.

big changes [2]

I am going to be part of that system...sigh...

Jam texted me while we were in the middle of the Noypi program the council organized with ABS-CBN. To my surprise, she congratulated me for being one of the two GMA Network scholars.

So I was happy, sure. And I felt like I had to tell my mom personally, not even on text message. I had to wait for her class to end.

And also, this is what my dad had always wanted. Scholarship. Sure job. GMA Network. And I guess, I was able to give him what he dreamed of.

But. Why do I have this but in life?

I'm not being ungrateful or anything. But after all the realizations I've had last year, do I really want to work for that network? A network based on the capitalist system whose priority is to hit the ratings which will attract advertisers and most likely lead to lesser journalistic standards.

I promised myself that I will not compromise whatever principles I have learned just to "sell". Moreover, I actually came to a point that I do not want to be associated with such organizations.

But again, here I am, blessed yet torn.

My dad says it's good to recognize the perils of that system, but running away from it is another thing. How can anyone idealistic run away from the chance to actually change the system?

I hate myself for feeling such.

But I am thankful, seriously (And I'm not trying to convince myself here)

In the words of Sir Arao, palibasa aktibista...

sam is back!

acad mode

It's been a long time since I felt it deep inside. This time, I really want to do excellent in my academics.

Sure, I still question the meaning & satisfaction behind all these awards, but this time I really think I need an exit, an escape, a scapegoat to every battle I have to face. Just maybe, I could get away from all I have to be.

And I guess, I've already found some meaning in my life, the why to studying and being excellent. This time I feel my sense of direction in life, the same one I lost months ago for specific reasons I myself am not quite sure.

But hey, maybe I'll be great, or at least the experience. just maybe

marge & march: the battle is mine alone to lead

Changes have been taking place. Bikoy could only laugh at our stories now but I know for myself, he shouldn't be just laughing. He's supposed to be there.

He doesn't talk much now (well, he's always been like that) but this time, I see clearly that it is mine to lead. Everybody expects me to speak out and they will listen. I am the leader now.

But I can't be. I don't want to be. Bikoy is still there and in my heart he will forever be our chairperson, that person I stand behind to.

He says he's going for another step up the ladder, to the STAND UP university wide chapter, and he might even be an officer for the group. In all honesty, I don't want him to be. Selfish? Not really. I just want him to stay standing in front of me in this fight because I can't do it alone. People can't draw their strength in principle from me. I won't be able to survive.

But then, neither can I stop him from doing what he thinks he should be doing.

I guess I have to learn to be alone (again) and this battle will be mine alone to lead.

Can I really do it?