It's nearing June (well it's not, tomorrow is just the first day of February). And my mom has been talking non-stop (okay, not so non-stop, she has to eat and yell at my brother too) about me applying to schools.
As a teacher.
She's out of her mind, yes I know. She's way out of it, you must know.
Okay, here's the deal. I don't have anything against teachers. I don't even have anything against being one. I respect them. Definitely, I owe them a lot. It was a teacher who was first to ever say I could write. It was a teacher who ever told me cheating, in any form, degrades a person--and made me believe. It was a teacher who comes home every night and become my mother. Practically, I have a whole bunch of teachers for relatives.
But to be one? If you know me, no matter how short-lived or wrongly-impressed you have been about me, you would know that me teaching isn't going to do the world any good.
I am refusing to be a teacher in the same way and for the same reasons that medicine refuses me to be a doctor--the profession is about other people's lives and they're better off without me speeding them off to the opposite of positive.
Teaching is a noble profession, we have been told that forever. And I do believe it is. Because it touches lives. It changes lives. A teacher can make or break a person, with a class card or a simple red pen. A teacher's words are something a kindergarten takes home with him and lives on. Sometimes, because the teacher says homework has to be done before cartoons, even if the mother allows cartoons to come before homework, a child chooses the notebook instead. But more than anything, a teacher makes students understand why they have to do something and why they cannot have another thing--like a parent.
I am not ready to be like that. I don't think I'll ever be ready. I can't make myself believe I'm worthy of being listened to or of being thought of when someone is making a life decision. I can go around being a boss, telling people what to do, but at the end of the day, I'm not sure I want those orders sticking with them even after they've left the office. I don't want to hold lives on my hands because I am nowhere near holding mine good enough.
In other words, I am too wrecked to become someone's teacher.
So forget the fact that maybe I just want to do something nobody else in my family does. Forget the fact that maybe I just want to try where I'll be good at and not simply succumbing to what my immediate society demands. And forget the fact that maybe profession is the one field I would really hate to be similar with my mother over.
My own person believes I won't do teaching justice. In fact, I might actually ruin it.
1.20.2011
There Now is a Paris Hilton Shop at Rob Manila
My friend decided to finally have her clearance finished, her diploma claimed, and her transcript ordered this afternoon. She asked if I could accompany her and since I was Manila-bound in the morning for a job interview (again), I said I could. So we met up and went to our once second-home (this is so cheesy).
If you wanted to make sure life moves on, revisit the places you had not been in for quite a long time. That's what I realized earlier. Because yes, no matter how stuck I feel, life does moves on for the world at large. The university now has a new set of students, the richer ones who have enough financial wellness to afford the increased tuition fee. I felt weird seeing all those apparently newbies and not being around to watch them absorb the shock of going to a state university.
It's been almost a year. And I've went through a first job and a first recognition and a first set of failed applications. It's been almost a year and while all those students watched a museum being erected in what we've always considered as a lost land before, my life is taking a roller coaster ride of its own. It's been almost a year and while the graduating students are up to their necks trying to make their thesis puzzles piece together, I'm being badgered by my parents to get up from my always-sitting position and get a life.
Old stuffs are still around though, like the street vendors in front of the public hospital opposite our campus. It was so easy to predict that should someone shout a warning about authorities that time, scampering and scurrying to hide would soon follow. It still paid to be street smart unless you'd rather a felon get hold of your phone or wallet.
If you wanted to make sure life moves on, revisit the places you had not been in for quite a long time. That's what I realized earlier. Because yes, no matter how stuck I feel, life does moves on for the world at large. The university now has a new set of students, the richer ones who have enough financial wellness to afford the increased tuition fee. I felt weird seeing all those apparently newbies and not being around to watch them absorb the shock of going to a state university.
It's been almost a year. And I've went through a first job and a first recognition and a first set of failed applications. It's been almost a year and while all those students watched a museum being erected in what we've always considered as a lost land before, my life is taking a roller coaster ride of its own. It's been almost a year and while the graduating students are up to their necks trying to make their thesis puzzles piece together, I'm being badgered by my parents to get up from my always-sitting position and get a life.
Old stuffs are still around though, like the street vendors in front of the public hospital opposite our campus. It was so easy to predict that should someone shout a warning about authorities that time, scampering and scurrying to hide would soon follow. It still paid to be street smart unless you'd rather a felon get hold of your phone or wallet.
We talked about all these as we meandered through the streets we used to see everyday. But we know the time to move on had long since passed and what we were merely expressing were fondness over those memories.
But if there was one thing that totally and definitely struck as hard was the mall that we treated like our second school and third home. It now looked so chic, with the new color scheme of tiles, and entirely fresh, as if newly-built. There are now shops we could only dream of before. Like a Paris Hilton shop and XOXO. Old stores are either relocated or shut down.
The feeling was a mixture of awe (yeah, it felt stupid squealing "Wow!" at the new shops--like we were there for the first time) and fondness and nostalgia. It was like going through your childhood house long after you've moved out--you know your way around but the walls and the lives it shelters are already different.
Life moves on. People change. And establishments are renovated. If tomorrow those places are different again, I wouldn't be surprised.
But it was nice to go back even for a while. Like the memories were never gone.
1.18.2011
Dahil kay Bob Ong, naalala ko . . .
Eto na, Part III na!
Nahirapan ako dito ah, in fairness. Dahil hindi naman basta-basta ang pag-alala sa mga pinagdaanan ko bilang estudyante. At isa pa, para lang akong timang na may pa 3-part 3-part series pang nalalaman kung sunud-sunod din naman ang mga entries. Diba?
Anyway, eto na nga, huling part na. At syempre, gaya ng naisip n'yo na, tungkol na 'to sa college life ko. Apat na taon ng buhay ko. Huling apat na taon ko bilang mag-aaral. Kung alam mo lang kung ga'no ko na-excite nung first year college ako. Dahil feeling ko nun, mabilis lang lilipas ang apat na taon.
Kung matapang ako nung high school, masasabi kong mas matapang ako nang pumasok ako ng college. Dahil kung ang high school ay nangangain ng buhay, ang college papatayin ka muna unti-unti bago ka kakainin. Yung ramdam na ramdam mong nahihirapan ka. Para kang tinulak sa bangin at habang nasa ere ka at hinihila ng gravity pababa, alam na alam mo nang masasaktan ka pagbagsak mo.
Kaya kailangan matapang ka. Pero kung tutuusin, wala naman talagang gugulo sa'yo sa college. Yung ibang high school students ng mga prominenteng high school, akala nila may bearing ang pangalan ng eskwelahan nila pagdating nila ng college. Hindi nila alam, tataasan lang sila ng kilay at kung minsan pa "Okay" lang ang isasagot sa kanila. Ibig sabihin, wala silang pakialam sa'yo. Lalo na ang mga professors mo.
Lalo na sa kolehiyong pinasukan ko. Na kahit anak yata ng presidente ng bansa, kapag hindi nagpasa ng paper, INC ang grade. Syempre iniisip ko lang na ganon doon, kasi hindi ko naman ever na-experience na makakilala ng anak ng presidente. Pero palagay ko nga, ganon doon. Kasi mas may reputasyon ang kolehiyong yun kesa kahit kaninong tao.
At dahil daw sa reputasyong yun kaya ginagawang nakakaubos ng brain cells ang mga klase. Ang mga exams. At ang mga exams ng mga klase na isang meeting sa isang buwan lang pumapasok ang prof. Dahil din sa reputasyong yun kaya isinumpa ko nang sobra-sobra ang Math, ang History of Math, ang Slope of X, at ang equation. Sa apat na taon ko sa college, tatlo ang naging Math subject ko at sa lahat ng yun TRES ang grade ko. Yung isa, pinilit ko pang maging tres dahil sabit sa 4 ang original grade ko.
Nahirapan ako dito ah, in fairness. Dahil hindi naman basta-basta ang pag-alala sa mga pinagdaanan ko bilang estudyante. At isa pa, para lang akong timang na may pa 3-part 3-part series pang nalalaman kung sunud-sunod din naman ang mga entries. Diba?
Anyway, eto na nga, huling part na. At syempre, gaya ng naisip n'yo na, tungkol na 'to sa college life ko. Apat na taon ng buhay ko. Huling apat na taon ko bilang mag-aaral. Kung alam mo lang kung ga'no ko na-excite nung first year college ako. Dahil feeling ko nun, mabilis lang lilipas ang apat na taon.
Kung matapang ako nung high school, masasabi kong mas matapang ako nang pumasok ako ng college. Dahil kung ang high school ay nangangain ng buhay, ang college papatayin ka muna unti-unti bago ka kakainin. Yung ramdam na ramdam mong nahihirapan ka. Para kang tinulak sa bangin at habang nasa ere ka at hinihila ng gravity pababa, alam na alam mo nang masasaktan ka pagbagsak mo.
Kaya kailangan matapang ka. Pero kung tutuusin, wala naman talagang gugulo sa'yo sa college. Yung ibang high school students ng mga prominenteng high school, akala nila may bearing ang pangalan ng eskwelahan nila pagdating nila ng college. Hindi nila alam, tataasan lang sila ng kilay at kung minsan pa "Okay" lang ang isasagot sa kanila. Ibig sabihin, wala silang pakialam sa'yo. Lalo na ang mga professors mo.
Lalo na sa kolehiyong pinasukan ko. Na kahit anak yata ng presidente ng bansa, kapag hindi nagpasa ng paper, INC ang grade. Syempre iniisip ko lang na ganon doon, kasi hindi ko naman ever na-experience na makakilala ng anak ng presidente. Pero palagay ko nga, ganon doon. Kasi mas may reputasyon ang kolehiyong yun kesa kahit kaninong tao.
At dahil daw sa reputasyong yun kaya ginagawang nakakaubos ng brain cells ang mga klase. Ang mga exams. At ang mga exams ng mga klase na isang meeting sa isang buwan lang pumapasok ang prof. Dahil din sa reputasyong yun kaya isinumpa ko nang sobra-sobra ang Math, ang History of Math, ang Slope of X, at ang equation. Sa apat na taon ko sa college, tatlo ang naging Math subject ko at sa lahat ng yun TRES ang grade ko. Yung isa, pinilit ko pang maging tres dahil sabit sa 4 ang original grade ko.
Dahil din sa reputasyong yun kaya naging allergic ako sa blue book (notebook-type ng set of papers kung saan mo isinusulat ang mga sagot mo sa exam). Naging allergic ako sa blue book dahil hindi ako pumapasa sa exam kapag sa blue book ako nagsasagot. Parang isinumpa lang.
Sa college ko rin natutunan ang napakaraming forms of relaxation at pag-aaliw ng sarili lalo na kapag apat na oras ang pagitan ng mga subject mo. At dito ko natutunan ang importansya ng mga kaibigan. Sige nga, ano ang gagawin mo sa loob ng apat na oras kapag mag-isa ka lang? Dahil dyan, higit ano pa man, kaya napakapit ako sa matibay na pagkakaibigan. Naswertehan ko naman na nakilala ko ang lima sa pinakamasasayang tao.
Sila ang pinakamatinong produkto ng college life ko. Sa tingin ko lang yan ha, relative naman ang salitang matino e. Sila kasi yung mga taong hindi nakikipaghabulan sa uno, yung mga masaya na kapag pumapasa at lalong masaya kapag nakakahanap ng mas bagsak pa kesa sa kanila, yung mga hindi kailangan maging "in" dahil may sari-sariling personalidad. Marami silang naituro sa'kin. Minsan iniisip kong mas marami pa 'kong natutunan sa kanila kesa sa professor kong alam lahat ng communication theories.
College din ang nagturo sa'kin na ang araw at ang gabi, kulay lang ng langit ang pinagkaiba. Dahil kung kailangan mo nang magpasa ng thesis kinabukasan at hanggang sa araw bago 'yun ay hindi mo pa rin naiintindihan ang p=0.5 sa statistics mo, ituturing mo talagang araw ang gabi. At kung seryoso ka sa kagustuhan mong grumaduate on time, 24/7 talaga ang gagawin mong trabaho.
Nakakaloka ang college. Totoo yun. Mahirap lampasan ang araw-araw. Mahirap ding lingunin ang mga nalampasan na. Madaming mga nangyari sa'kin noon, pero hindi ko na maalala ang iba. Yung iba, hindi ko na talaga inaalala. Siguro sapat nang sabihin kong ang pinakamalinaw kong naiisip kapag pinag-uusapan ang college ay kung pano ako natutong lumaban noon. Kung paanong nagawa kong hindi masalag ng mga nagtataasang sungay ng mga taong nakapaligid sa'kin. Kung paano kong nagawang takbuhin nang dalawang beses ang oval sa UP Diliman, makapasa lang sa P.E. Kung paanong simpleng lakas na lang ng loob ang minsang nagtatawid sa'kin sa mga speeches, exams, at thesis defense.
Sa college, natuto akong mabuhay mag-isa at mabuhay nang isa sa mga grupo. Simple lang ang college, papasok ka, lalabas.
Sa college ko rin natutunan ang napakaraming forms of relaxation at pag-aaliw ng sarili lalo na kapag apat na oras ang pagitan ng mga subject mo. At dito ko natutunan ang importansya ng mga kaibigan. Sige nga, ano ang gagawin mo sa loob ng apat na oras kapag mag-isa ka lang? Dahil dyan, higit ano pa man, kaya napakapit ako sa matibay na pagkakaibigan. Naswertehan ko naman na nakilala ko ang lima sa pinakamasasayang tao.
Sila ang pinakamatinong produkto ng college life ko. Sa tingin ko lang yan ha, relative naman ang salitang matino e. Sila kasi yung mga taong hindi nakikipaghabulan sa uno, yung mga masaya na kapag pumapasa at lalong masaya kapag nakakahanap ng mas bagsak pa kesa sa kanila, yung mga hindi kailangan maging "in" dahil may sari-sariling personalidad. Marami silang naituro sa'kin. Minsan iniisip kong mas marami pa 'kong natutunan sa kanila kesa sa professor kong alam lahat ng communication theories.
College din ang nagturo sa'kin na ang araw at ang gabi, kulay lang ng langit ang pinagkaiba. Dahil kung kailangan mo nang magpasa ng thesis kinabukasan at hanggang sa araw bago 'yun ay hindi mo pa rin naiintindihan ang p=0.5 sa statistics mo, ituturing mo talagang araw ang gabi. At kung seryoso ka sa kagustuhan mong grumaduate on time, 24/7 talaga ang gagawin mong trabaho.
Nakakaloka ang college. Totoo yun. Mahirap lampasan ang araw-araw. Mahirap ding lingunin ang mga nalampasan na. Madaming mga nangyari sa'kin noon, pero hindi ko na maalala ang iba. Yung iba, hindi ko na talaga inaalala. Siguro sapat nang sabihin kong ang pinakamalinaw kong naiisip kapag pinag-uusapan ang college ay kung pano ako natutong lumaban noon. Kung paanong nagawa kong hindi masalag ng mga nagtataasang sungay ng mga taong nakapaligid sa'kin. Kung paano kong nagawang takbuhin nang dalawang beses ang oval sa UP Diliman, makapasa lang sa P.E. Kung paanong simpleng lakas na lang ng loob ang minsang nagtatawid sa'kin sa mga speeches, exams, at thesis defense.
Sa college, natuto akong mabuhay mag-isa at mabuhay nang isa sa mga grupo. Simple lang ang college, papasok ka, lalabas.
Ang pagitan lang ng buhay mo sa loob at sa labas ay gate.
1.17.2011
Some thoughts are too weird to save in my mind
I am again at that spot where I don't know what to write. I've visited this blog quite a number of times since my last post and I wondered what else I could say. I suppose I need to write the final part of Dahil kay Bob Ong, Naalala ko . . . but I still haven't managed to start doing so.
And then I wondered why I give blogging--and writing--so much importance when (1) it's an irrevocable reminder of how much time I have for it, which isn't so good especially because I ought to be spending those hours and days over something more . . . financially worthwhile and (2) it encourages run-on sentences (as in this one) and an unordered spilling of thoughts.
I can barely make smooth transitions.
I wish I'm not ranting, but I feel like I am.
So maybe blogging and writing is important for me because it makes my brain work. Maybe it's a sort-of independent attempt at learning, because I refuse to go back to school (for a higher education that higher education--I'm already done with college, that's what I mean). And maybe it's the only way I still get to express my thoughts because I hardly do that with real, live, flesh and blood people.
Last Saturday night, I was with my family at a mall. We drove my little sister to the hotel where their high school prom would be held. I felt so old then, thinking that it seemed only yesterday (okay, maybe not really yesterday) when it was me that they were driving off to my first high school prom.
But then I looked at my brother, who came along with his girlfriend and son, and I knew that in some ways someone else had grown older than me. I figured it wasn't the age that determined oldness.
While roaming around the mall, my nephew was going nuts over the carousel and the rental carts (like small cars). I wondered how he had grown into someone that appreciates those kinds of things when before, we only regaled him with tickles and everything colorful. I got a knock in the head from my inner self: you're already 21, girl, and he came when you were only 19--it's been more than a year.
But hey, wasn't it just recently that we were celebrating his first birthday? How come he's on his way closer to his second?
Imagine all those thoughts when I'm not even 22 and he's not even my son.
And then Sunday came. We got visitors, friends that my father knew since childhood, men who were my godfathers, and their families. It was a gathering we used to do every Christmas when we were all younger and that simply faded out of the scene because we started welcoming different traditions.
While the women sat and gossiped around the dining table and the men laughed loudly outside, I found myself thinking--someday I guess my brain would simply fall apart from too much thinking, you think?--about how much we've all grown. Up and apart. The elders have went through promotions, new washing machines, new houses, renovations, better jobs, new businesses. And the children have went through elementary and high school and college. I have even went through a first job.
It wasn't an easy thought to have, some even freak out because of it. But I kind of enjoyed it. Maybe because as a child I've always wondered how we would be if all of us kids (then) grow up and that day, when I realized how much of my childhood imaginations have actually come true, there were some things that just didn't change.
And then I wondered why I give blogging--and writing--so much importance when (1) it's an irrevocable reminder of how much time I have for it, which isn't so good especially because I ought to be spending those hours and days over something more . . . financially worthwhile and (2) it encourages run-on sentences (as in this one) and an unordered spilling of thoughts.
I can barely make smooth transitions.
I wish I'm not ranting, but I feel like I am.
So maybe blogging and writing is important for me because it makes my brain work. Maybe it's a sort-of independent attempt at learning, because I refuse to go back to school (for a higher education that higher education--I'm already done with college, that's what I mean). And maybe it's the only way I still get to express my thoughts because I hardly do that with real, live, flesh and blood people.
Last Saturday night, I was with my family at a mall. We drove my little sister to the hotel where their high school prom would be held. I felt so old then, thinking that it seemed only yesterday (okay, maybe not really yesterday) when it was me that they were driving off to my first high school prom.
But then I looked at my brother, who came along with his girlfriend and son, and I knew that in some ways someone else had grown older than me. I figured it wasn't the age that determined oldness.
While roaming around the mall, my nephew was going nuts over the carousel and the rental carts (like small cars). I wondered how he had grown into someone that appreciates those kinds of things when before, we only regaled him with tickles and everything colorful. I got a knock in the head from my inner self: you're already 21, girl, and he came when you were only 19--it's been more than a year.
But hey, wasn't it just recently that we were celebrating his first birthday? How come he's on his way closer to his second?
Imagine all those thoughts when I'm not even 22 and he's not even my son.
And then Sunday came. We got visitors, friends that my father knew since childhood, men who were my godfathers, and their families. It was a gathering we used to do every Christmas when we were all younger and that simply faded out of the scene because we started welcoming different traditions.
While the women sat and gossiped around the dining table and the men laughed loudly outside, I found myself thinking--someday I guess my brain would simply fall apart from too much thinking, you think?--about how much we've all grown. Up and apart. The elders have went through promotions, new washing machines, new houses, renovations, better jobs, new businesses. And the children have went through elementary and high school and college. I have even went through a first job.
It wasn't an easy thought to have, some even freak out because of it. But I kind of enjoyed it. Maybe because as a child I've always wondered how we would be if all of us kids (then) grow up and that day, when I realized how much of my childhood imaginations have actually come true, there were some things that just didn't change.
Like laughter, for example. And personalities. And the stories they tell and the questions they ask. Remember when . . . ? Have you got a boyfriend now? I find myself smiling at that thought.
Because seriously, when you're in a stage when things and lives around you are changing faster than the way you blink your eyes, it's comforting to know that there are things didn't--and wouldn't--change.
Like the fact of life.
1.10.2011
Dahil kay Bob Ong, naalala ko . . .
(Part 2)
May dahilan kung bakit ginawa kong 3-part series ang blogpost ko tungkol sa mga reflections ko galing sa ABNKKBSNPLAKo?! ni Bob Ong. Una, dahil masyadong mahaba kung iisahin ko lang ang post ng pagkukwento ng naging student life ko. At pangalawa, dahil bored ako at gusto kong may mai-look forward naman ako in terms of blogging.
So. Ang second part. Ito naman ay tungkol sa pagiging high school student ko.
Dahil iisang eskwelahan lang naman ang pinasukan ko mula elementary hanggang high school, at ganon din ang karamihan ng mga naging kaklase ko, wala namang masyadong nagbago sa buhay ko. Maliban syempre sa tumanda ako, nag-iba ang building sa school, nag-iba ng mga teachers, at humirap lalo ang Math. O sige na nga, mas naging maloko ako.
Dati, nung elementary, walang mintis, honor student ako. 1st, 2nd, 3rd, hanggang 10th place pati na Best in Religion (nung mas bata pa 'ko at ang pamantayan lang ng award ay ang test paper na fill in the blanks ng mga prayers) nakuha ko. Best in Conduct lang talaga ang hindi ko kahit kailan nauto ang mga teacher ko na ibigay sa'kin. Pero pagdating ko ng high school, bilang na bilang ang honors ko. Isa lang sa apat na quarter bawat taon at dalawa lang sa apat na taon na nakasama ako sa final set of honors. Natapos ko ang high school nang special awards lang ang nakuha.
Oo, tinamad na 'ko nun. Naisip ko kasing hindi naman na sukatan kung pang-ilang honor student ka taun-taon. Syempre disappointed ang mga magulang ko. Alam ko, kahit 'di nila pinahalata. Pero wala na talaga e.
Sa high school ko din naranasan at natutunan ang gumawa ng homework para sa ibang subject habang nagtuturo ang teacher. Homework para sa susunod na subject, ginagawa kapag ayaw mong intindihin o hindi mo maintindihan ang kasalukuyang itinuturo ng teacher mo. Madalas kong gawin yun kapag Math, na sa malas ko nung 4th year ako, unang subject ko araw-araw dahil ang class adviser namin ay Math teacher.
Natuto din akong mangopya at magpakopya. Ng assignment, ng sagot sa exam, ng kahit anong pwedeng paghati-hatian ng klase. Nahuli ako nung 3rd year ako, habang nagkokopyahan kaming magkaklase sa SRA. Nakalimutan ko na kung anong ibig sabihin nito, pero ang subject na 'to ay yung may binabasa kang story tapos sasagutin mo ang mga tanong tungkol dito. Pero grupo-grupo kayong gagawa kaya siguradong isa sa inyo, nasagutan na ang sasagutan mo palang. Na-diskubre namin yun ng ka-grupo ko. Pero na-diskubre rin kami ng teacher namin. Na-report kami at umabot hanggang Vice Principal at syempre, hanggang sa mga magulang ko dahil hindi ako makakapag-enroll ng 4th year hanggang hindi sila nakakausap.
Lahat yan, dahil lang sa tinamad ako. So masasabi nating naturuan din ako nung high school na mamili ng panahong tatamarin ka.
Oh well, hindi naman ako masyadong napagalitan dahil nung mga panahong yun din ang peak season ng kapatid ko sa pagkolekta ng iba pang misconduct cases sa department naman nila. In short, forgivable na ang pangongopya dahil ang kapatid, ko nasa level na ng suntukan at paninigarilyo sa loob ng school. O diba.
Pero matino pa rin naman ako. Or not. Depende sa definition mo ng matino. Kung matino ang hindi pagbagsak sa klase, hindi laging nale-late (dahil may-ari kami ng school service), hindi pala-absent (kung sa Cavite ka nakatira at walang tao sa bahay n'yo 'pag normal na araw, hindi ka talaga aabsent), at nagpapasa pa naman ng mga requirement (lalo na sa teacher kong nakahuli sa'kin na nangongopya), e di matino nga ako.
Iba lang talaga ang high school. Bukod sa tumatanda na 'ko, marami na ring hassle sa buhay ang nararanasan ko. Kagaya ng love, ng friendship, ng scheming (scheming talaga), at ng gossips (o ayan, isipin mo na lang may pagka-Blair Waldorf ang ugali ko nun--weh!). Naranasan ko ang mang-away pa ng mas maraming tao--nung 1st year pa lang ako, 3rd year ang isa sa pinaka-mahigpit kong kabanggaan sa staircase, may mga pagkakataon ding class president namin ang kaaway at kasigawan ko, at yung ibang pagkakataon, cold war type. Naranasan kong magka-crush sa kuya ng classmate ko--na sinuwerte naman akong maka-grupo sa isang inter-level play competition at maging kaibigan at later on, university-mate nung college (oo, ganon ako ka-swerte kahit pa magkaiba kami ng course).
Higit sa lahat, sa high school ko naramdaman ang mawalan ng kaibigan. Literal na mawalan, as in mamatayan, as in maiwan. Isang bagay na hanggang ngayon mahirap ikwento.
High school ang nagturo sa'kin na kung hindi ka lalaban, kakainin ka ng buhay ng mga tao sa paligid mo (figuratively, syempre). High school din ang nagpaintindi sa'kin na hindi lahat ng meron ka kasalukuyan ay sa'yo na hanggang hindi mo binibitawan, dahil merong iba dyan na dadagit nyan.
At high school din ang nagpakita sa'kin ng klase ng buhay na totoo--halu-halo, paikot-ikot, pabalik-balik kung minsan, pero laging aandar pasulong. At kung hindi ka sasabay, madadaanan ka lang ng iba at masasaktan ka pa.
May dahilan kung bakit ginawa kong 3-part series ang blogpost ko tungkol sa mga reflections ko galing sa ABNKKBSNPLAKo?! ni Bob Ong. Una, dahil masyadong mahaba kung iisahin ko lang ang post ng pagkukwento ng naging student life ko. At pangalawa, dahil bored ako at gusto kong may mai-look forward naman ako in terms of blogging.
So. Ang second part. Ito naman ay tungkol sa pagiging high school student ko.
Dahil iisang eskwelahan lang naman ang pinasukan ko mula elementary hanggang high school, at ganon din ang karamihan ng mga naging kaklase ko, wala namang masyadong nagbago sa buhay ko. Maliban syempre sa tumanda ako, nag-iba ang building sa school, nag-iba ng mga teachers, at humirap lalo ang Math. O sige na nga, mas naging maloko ako.
Dati, nung elementary, walang mintis, honor student ako. 1st, 2nd, 3rd, hanggang 10th place pati na Best in Religion (nung mas bata pa 'ko at ang pamantayan lang ng award ay ang test paper na fill in the blanks ng mga prayers) nakuha ko. Best in Conduct lang talaga ang hindi ko kahit kailan nauto ang mga teacher ko na ibigay sa'kin. Pero pagdating ko ng high school, bilang na bilang ang honors ko. Isa lang sa apat na quarter bawat taon at dalawa lang sa apat na taon na nakasama ako sa final set of honors. Natapos ko ang high school nang special awards lang ang nakuha.
Oo, tinamad na 'ko nun. Naisip ko kasing hindi naman na sukatan kung pang-ilang honor student ka taun-taon. Syempre disappointed ang mga magulang ko. Alam ko, kahit 'di nila pinahalata. Pero wala na talaga e.
Sa high school ko din naranasan at natutunan ang gumawa ng homework para sa ibang subject habang nagtuturo ang teacher. Homework para sa susunod na subject, ginagawa kapag ayaw mong intindihin o hindi mo maintindihan ang kasalukuyang itinuturo ng teacher mo. Madalas kong gawin yun kapag Math, na sa malas ko nung 4th year ako, unang subject ko araw-araw dahil ang class adviser namin ay Math teacher.
Natuto din akong mangopya at magpakopya. Ng assignment, ng sagot sa exam, ng kahit anong pwedeng paghati-hatian ng klase. Nahuli ako nung 3rd year ako, habang nagkokopyahan kaming magkaklase sa SRA. Nakalimutan ko na kung anong ibig sabihin nito, pero ang subject na 'to ay yung may binabasa kang story tapos sasagutin mo ang mga tanong tungkol dito. Pero grupo-grupo kayong gagawa kaya siguradong isa sa inyo, nasagutan na ang sasagutan mo palang. Na-diskubre namin yun ng ka-grupo ko. Pero na-diskubre rin kami ng teacher namin. Na-report kami at umabot hanggang Vice Principal at syempre, hanggang sa mga magulang ko dahil hindi ako makakapag-enroll ng 4th year hanggang hindi sila nakakausap.
Lahat yan, dahil lang sa tinamad ako. So masasabi nating naturuan din ako nung high school na mamili ng panahong tatamarin ka.
Oh well, hindi naman ako masyadong napagalitan dahil nung mga panahong yun din ang peak season ng kapatid ko sa pagkolekta ng iba pang misconduct cases sa department naman nila. In short, forgivable na ang pangongopya dahil ang kapatid, ko nasa level na ng suntukan at paninigarilyo sa loob ng school. O diba.
Pero matino pa rin naman ako. Or not. Depende sa definition mo ng matino. Kung matino ang hindi pagbagsak sa klase, hindi laging nale-late (dahil may-ari kami ng school service), hindi pala-absent (kung sa Cavite ka nakatira at walang tao sa bahay n'yo 'pag normal na araw, hindi ka talaga aabsent), at nagpapasa pa naman ng mga requirement (lalo na sa teacher kong nakahuli sa'kin na nangongopya), e di matino nga ako.
Iba lang talaga ang high school. Bukod sa tumatanda na 'ko, marami na ring hassle sa buhay ang nararanasan ko. Kagaya ng love, ng friendship, ng scheming (scheming talaga), at ng gossips (o ayan, isipin mo na lang may pagka-Blair Waldorf ang ugali ko nun--weh!). Naranasan ko ang mang-away pa ng mas maraming tao--nung 1st year pa lang ako, 3rd year ang isa sa pinaka-mahigpit kong kabanggaan sa staircase, may mga pagkakataon ding class president namin ang kaaway at kasigawan ko, at yung ibang pagkakataon, cold war type. Naranasan kong magka-crush sa kuya ng classmate ko--na sinuwerte naman akong maka-grupo sa isang inter-level play competition at maging kaibigan at later on, university-mate nung college (oo, ganon ako ka-swerte kahit pa magkaiba kami ng course).
Higit sa lahat, sa high school ko naramdaman ang mawalan ng kaibigan. Literal na mawalan, as in mamatayan, as in maiwan. Isang bagay na hanggang ngayon mahirap ikwento.
High school ang nagturo sa'kin na kung hindi ka lalaban, kakainin ka ng buhay ng mga tao sa paligid mo (figuratively, syempre). High school din ang nagpaintindi sa'kin na hindi lahat ng meron ka kasalukuyan ay sa'yo na hanggang hindi mo binibitawan, dahil merong iba dyan na dadagit nyan.
At high school din ang nagpakita sa'kin ng klase ng buhay na totoo--halu-halo, paikot-ikot, pabalik-balik kung minsan, pero laging aandar pasulong. At kung hindi ka sasabay, madadaanan ka lang ng iba at masasaktan ka pa.
Superbly Late After-New-Year Post
I am fat.
Okay, that just slipped out. Or not. LOL.
I'm supposed to be talking about our New Year's Celebration in this post. Which, if I may say, is the best so far that we've had. We went to Manila Zoo to indulge my little nephew's fascination over anything non-human. Yes, it literally makes his day to see a cow, a horse, a tiger, a pig, a cat, or a dog. Tell me about children's quirks.
But it was a fun activity, albeit the fact that Manila Zoo wasn't just teeming with animals but with people, too. Seriously, you'd have to crane your head over lots of other heads first before you see what's behind the cages.
Kheeno, my nephew, went particularly fond of the sole elephant in the zoo. Maybe because it was huge and it was the animal he got closest to (in view, I mean). He also loved the horses and the different species of birds in their cages. Well, he loved everything I guess. To think he had to climb and attach himself mightily onto the cages and fences just to stare at all the animals. He also enjoyed the playground items, where many other kids took a shrieking obsession of. He got my brother to climb with him and went through the slides again and again, a huge consequence for being his father.
What made everything fun, I think, was the fact that we got to realize just how much our little child had become closer to us, considering he only ever saw us on weekends. It was also heartwarming to hear him call us dearly--like 'Wowo' for my father and 'La' for my mother (he couldn't pronounce differing syllables yet)--and recognize between me and my little sister (which is a difficult feat even for my young cousins).
In the end, it did not matter if my parents decided to do away with firecrackers and sparklers for the New Year's Eve’ traditional firecracking welcome. It did not matter that we lost the family tradition of reunion-type of get-togethers every January 1st. What only mattered was that we still had each other to celebrate with and a new child to make the event happier.
So we’re done with the story. But let's tackle that slip-up of mine.
Oh yes, I'm fat. Or just heavier than my old weight. I now know how to literally not fit in your jeans. No pun, I've been wearing the same size of jeans for the last 8 years and now, or since Christmas Shopping 2010, I had to go a size larger. My shirts and blouses also went a notch higher in the size department.
How can that not happen when all these time (for the last three months), I only had eating and sleeping to do aside from watching movies, reading e-books, and nursing a TV-addiction. I used to do the laundry manually, as in take the soaped clothes from the washing machine and rinse them with your hands. But Mother got an automatic washing machine, as in put everything into the tub and let the machine do the rest. That's about the only exercise I get aside from sweeping and wiping the floor and now it's gone.
I'm not justifying the weight gain, nor do I feel bad about it. To hell with thin-is-good philosophy. I just want to acknowledge, finally, that simple fact.
So yeah, I'm fat and I had the best New Year's Day last Saturday. How I managed both of those thoughts into one sentence, don’t ask.
Okay, that just slipped out. Or not. LOL.
I'm supposed to be talking about our New Year's Celebration in this post. Which, if I may say, is the best so far that we've had. We went to Manila Zoo to indulge my little nephew's fascination over anything non-human. Yes, it literally makes his day to see a cow, a horse, a tiger, a pig, a cat, or a dog. Tell me about children's quirks.
But it was a fun activity, albeit the fact that Manila Zoo wasn't just teeming with animals but with people, too. Seriously, you'd have to crane your head over lots of other heads first before you see what's behind the cages.
Kheeno, my nephew, went particularly fond of the sole elephant in the zoo. Maybe because it was huge and it was the animal he got closest to (in view, I mean). He also loved the horses and the different species of birds in their cages. Well, he loved everything I guess. To think he had to climb and attach himself mightily onto the cages and fences just to stare at all the animals. He also enjoyed the playground items, where many other kids took a shrieking obsession of. He got my brother to climb with him and went through the slides again and again, a huge consequence for being his father.
What made everything fun, I think, was the fact that we got to realize just how much our little child had become closer to us, considering he only ever saw us on weekends. It was also heartwarming to hear him call us dearly--like 'Wowo' for my father and 'La' for my mother (he couldn't pronounce differing syllables yet)--and recognize between me and my little sister (which is a difficult feat even for my young cousins).
In the end, it did not matter if my parents decided to do away with firecrackers and sparklers for the New Year's Eve’ traditional firecracking welcome. It did not matter that we lost the family tradition of reunion-type of get-togethers every January 1st. What only mattered was that we still had each other to celebrate with and a new child to make the event happier.
So we’re done with the story. But let's tackle that slip-up of mine.
Oh yes, I'm fat. Or just heavier than my old weight. I now know how to literally not fit in your jeans. No pun, I've been wearing the same size of jeans for the last 8 years and now, or since Christmas Shopping 2010, I had to go a size larger. My shirts and blouses also went a notch higher in the size department.
How can that not happen when all these time (for the last three months), I only had eating and sleeping to do aside from watching movies, reading e-books, and nursing a TV-addiction. I used to do the laundry manually, as in take the soaped clothes from the washing machine and rinse them with your hands. But Mother got an automatic washing machine, as in put everything into the tub and let the machine do the rest. That's about the only exercise I get aside from sweeping and wiping the floor and now it's gone.
I'm not justifying the weight gain, nor do I feel bad about it. To hell with thin-is-good philosophy. I just want to acknowledge, finally, that simple fact.
So yeah, I'm fat and I had the best New Year's Day last Saturday. How I managed both of those thoughts into one sentence, don’t ask.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)