CAS Recognition Program 2007

So, yeah, it was technically my college graduation awhile ago.

Vanity pushed me to get a morning work-out in the gym, and much to my surprise I wrung out a bucket of sweat from my very flabby self. I tried to punish myself with abdominal exercises but didn't push myself too hard, lest I get all sorts of cramps later on.

But I totally destroyed my workout by glutting myself with a meal from Kenny Rogers for lunch. My mom was totally concerned that I'd faint by midday if I foolishly tried to nab a bite at McDonalds for lunch. I think I pretty much stuffed my face with carbs right there.

Before the program started, the harrassed marshals were trying to get some semblance of order in our seating arrangements for the venue. Fat chance. Everyone was either too busy adjusting their outfits, talking to other people, or fanning themselves in the intense heat. We were wondering why the Little Theater (airconditioned and all) was not made the venue; they cited reasons of size but then again, the Little Theater holds almost as much as the GAB Roofdeck.

The real reason, probably, was that they were trying to solicit funds from the guest speaker, a senator who happened to proclaim himself as the "Father of Education." Big frigging deal, I told myself. He was the same senator who used registered mail (of course, using tax money) to send out "vote for me!" notices to students like myself who would be voting in the coming local elections. Like hell. His graduation address became like a campaign speech, and I immensely enjoyed zoning out during the program, trying to gauge when my soul would leave my body in the intense heat or how many calories might have been burned in that huge sauna of a venue. The valedictory address by the summa cum laude (my former blockmate who shifted to Biology) was more interesting to listen to, actually. I distinctly remember that the graduating class was so disappointed in the guest's promises of helping better the facilities--what use would we have for that, as we were graduating already?

But then again, I might have enjoyed myself so much. Point one, I was the only one wearing a very unique hablon sablay (sash) awhile ago. And it was a sablay for a Master's degree holder, and here I was, a Bachelor's degree holder. Teehee. Point two, I was the only one wearing a burgundy and black lace dress in a sea of frothy ecru and white; not my fault that it was the only semi-formal thing in my closet and that I wasn't able to attend the orientation for the ceremonies. They should probably thank their lucky stars I didn't go commando in the heat. Point three, I so many hugs and kisses and handshakes from faculty AND staff awhile ago. Who would have thought that former professors, maintenance staff, administration clerks, and friends from other courses would greet me familiarly? Point four, I got the "cute" award for my very concisely-titled-but-hard-to-pronouce-high-fallutin' thesis.

But I digress in enjoying myself too much.

Oh yeah, we were reminded that we should make our institution proud, and that we should remain patriotic, and that we should be loyal alumni. This actually translates to: work your asses off to prove you're a graduate from UP, please don't leave the country for greener pastures, and please donate to the school. Intelligent people truly create great euphemisms.

Last little tidbit: I found out I never memorized the UP Naming Mahal (the school hymn.) My bad.

P.S. Picture dump later.

Jittery Much?

First, I'd like to congratulate my friends and high school batchmates who have already graduated from UP Diliman awhile ago.  Cheers to you, guys!

Next, I'd like to thank Ate Tala and Tita Rose for lending me their sablays.  Now I get to choose between the two.  Or maybe I can go naked save for the sablay, but then again people will be emotionally scarred for life if they see me in my birthday suit.  No, I can't rationalize that I'm trying to imitate the Oblation statue or the Lady Med statue.  Far out.  But I do hope my college realizes that it is impractical to find a formal dress that's not sleeveless or strapless AND a formal dress that won't have me fainting in the heat.  Hello, GAB roofdeck for the CAS Recognition Program?  One to five in the sweltering afternoon?  Good luck to us...

Then, I'm all jittery.  And weirded out.  Because our University graduation is at the PICC at seven in the morning.  Because there is a freaking dress code.  Because the toga and the mortarboard suck big time.  Because I want to celebrate my graduation and my birthday, but really can't.  Because I'm going back to my new school on Tuesday to get that Hepatitis B booster shot and to meet the family of my new roommate.  Because my family's taking very special care of me, lest I fall into some sort of misfortune that is attracted by my present status as a graduating student; it's a sort of a superstitious belief that when you're graduating/about to get married/starting something new, bad luck tends to follow you around.

Last, I'm starting to get nostalgic.  I'm leaving the state university for now.  I came in expecting a degree and somehow came out with a life. 

Burnout

I think I'm beginning to understand what had me all worked up these past few years. I'm simply experiencing a burnout coupled with a great deal of disappointment in the learning institutions here.

Let them say that it's all in my head, but let them try walking in my shoes for just one second, and they would wish they could eat their words. Long term exhaustion? Check. Diminished interest? Check. Reduced sense of personal accomplishment? Check. Maybe, I have just had too much of this thing for so long and my mind was not mature enough to cope with all of it.

Goodness. Damned if I do, damned if I don't. Please God, just let me graduate already. I'm fed up, plain and simple.

Relativity

I might not be able to comprehend the things that are happening in my life right now, but I welcome the changes that are happening even if they mean that I have to step out of my safe cocoon. And there is a high probability that I will never really understand all of these because I see the picture from the unique POV of my two-decade old self; maybe I lack the wisdom or insight borne out of spending a greater number of years on this earth.

I've realized that adulthood entails a lot of responsibility, patience, and grit. That is, compared to infants, children, and geriatric denizens.

I've realized that all adults make mistakes; they make decisions with dire consequences knowingly or blindly. I hazard that the consequences may make a dent in their lives, but the gravity of such consequence can never be seen as equal for all because all of us are blind to our own characters, whether we like it or not.

I've realized the power of paradigm and being able to see things from another perspective. And it's so amusing to see adults with some semblance of authority over myself become like amateur actors in a poorly-directed play with scripts in different vernaculars.

I've realized that we probably are self-centered in a way because of self-preservation.

Our sight is among the most amazing things in life. It is so complex and so important, yet is so easily colored or turned.

Happily Tired

I'm still doozy from a marked lack of sleep. I surprised myself by not sleeping for a recent personal record of 34 hours; I was kept happily busy entertaining the people or making sure everything else was in order. (Thirty four hours is measly compared to what others can do, but it's a good record for me because I've been sleeping almost nine hours daily in the recent months.) I hope they had fun, even if it wasn't really the grandest of all homes or celebrations. Now, I'm happily tired.

I should also give myself a good-sized knock on the head for driving my mom to the mall to shop for gifts today; I was still a bit sleepy so it would have been dangerous for a bit, but all the pesky drivers and pedestrians woke me up enough to engage in a bit of a road rage. I'm past my teens already, but I still take risks. What the hell. The rewards were greater this time. I also believe I still possess enough sense to know when I can or cannot drive.

Nearing The End

Death always makes its presence known in my life. Not particularly being morbid though, as it isn't the physical death that many fear. So many characters, so many things, so many relationships, so many feelings and so many experiences die as I journey through.

I should be grateful that I find myself renewed eventually because something in my life meets its end and is replaced by something new or better. It's just that I'm probably too young to know that I should cherish such new beginnings or numerous second chances.

It's the end of yet another year, nearly the end of another chapter in my life. I'm so terribly unsure, increasingly pessimistic, and greatly confused. I'm probably young and jaded (or probably just more subdued with age) that I'm quietly letting all the new things come to me, instead of fiercely meeting them head on as I did before. I'm afraid that I might have lost courage in reaching out, choosing to remain in my comfort zone, that I might forget to live. Is this a quarter life crisis, early on?

It seems that what the world sees is at odds with what my soul sees.

Hello and Goodbye

I felt your hand brush over my forehead and I was jolted awake. 

It was half past three and I suddenly realized you were saying goodbye.

I did not cry and I did not scream, for I somehow knew all along that you were going to a better place, where there would be no more pain.

I cherish all of the memories I have of you. 

I remember how you cooked my favorite ginataan when we were moving to a new home. You made sure that Sunday lunches included my favorite alimasag, no matter how difficult to procure. I remember the best hunger-busting stews you made; nothing can ever compare to your kare-kare, mole, batchoy, and molo soup.

I can still smell the Jean Naté and White Flower you so frequently used. I laugh now as I remember my young eyes widen at the sight of your precious bottles of perfume all lined up like beautiful glass sculptures in your bath.

The most precious memories that I have of you was when you would indulge my love of roses--showing me your rosary of rose petals and rose wood, and gifting me with tea roses and rose shrubs. 

I do not know if you were aware that as you were leaving this world, I had annointed your forehead and hands with rose oil. I do know that you recognized my voice when I was whispering to your ear for the last time. We gave the nurse quite a surprise, didn't we?

Has he taken you to your second honeymoon now? :)

I love you, and I will miss you. Thank you for being part of my life.

One Day I'll Fly Away

Let me fly to the moon and bask in the glory of nothingness.
For the soul seeks solitude, and the heart wishes to be free.

And then let me fall back to the arms of the earth
Serene, sated, and wholly soothed.

I Prefer the Rain

I've just prefer the cacophony of rain, thunder, and lightning over bright and dry sunshine. Storms bring out the best in Mother Nature, methinks; she puts on quite a good show when she's brewing something. I love it when the rain patters down onto the earth, nourishing the parched flora while the wind howls and lashes all around. There is a sort of primal beauty in such weather.

Call me weird, or impractical. Sure, rainy season has its downsides. The streets get flooded, commuters get wet, power may sometimes go out, and so on. I hazard, though, that rain is better than heat waves that leave you weak with dehydration or sticky with sweat. The ultra-warm weather may be cause for a myriad of fun activities like cooling off by bodies of water in bikinis, or having iced desserts. Steaming coffee or warm cocoa or hot soup can beat that too, as well as staying indoors and curling up with a good book amidst cool sheets of your bed, with warm fluffy stuff around you.

Too bad the rains have stopped again. And that classes resume tomorrow.

Renovation c/o Mama

My home is currently undergoing renovation (again) this summer; reroofing, replacing the gutter and moldy plywood, repainting, rewiring, extra masonry, and all the work that needs to be done on the 30+ year old structure. The house is looking better slowly and surely, as it makes its transition from am ugly abode to a real home.

The room that is assigned to me is the center of attention now, being the receiving end of the most work for the time being. (Though I sincerely wish the work would be finished soon as my room is crying out for some good cleaning, and I can't sleep well with the fumes of paint, stripper, thinner, and drying cement constantly wafting all over me.) The workers are currently painting every available surface in the neutral palette of my choice: brown, tan, mocha, cream, sand, beige, and off-white. It's rather boring, truth be told, but I can actually spice up the room with a variety of colors and themes now, compared to when I was awarded a powder blue room some years before. I wanted to adapt the look of the Lirean palaces, but that would entail much back-breaking labor, and I didn't have the heart to force the workers to do such.

This is all thanks to Mama. It's mother's day, it's her day. It's the day of all the women who stood as my surrogate mothers. Cheers to the most beautiful and most wonderful creations in the world: mothers.