The Man who Climbs

I met a man who climbs almost half a year ago. It was the time when butterflies long abandoned my stomach and instead of colorful wings, acids and fats lurked in my stomach.

He was introduced to me by a colleague because he had worked with him before. He is the shy, laid-back type of gent. He looked like a child stuck in that body of boulders. His eyes were round and glistening and his smile, contagious. It was my third day in the area but our first day meeting. He toured me around, just the two of us walking in the hallway. It was a tranquil night where only our footsteps and a few snores and scratching of bedsheets could be heard aside from his soft, masculine voice and my short timid responses. I described it to my friends as "tour around the world" where you just want to savor the moment, every step, every word, and every glance. I don't know when I started to like him but it could be traced to that fateful night.

After the tour, we settled inside the station. We sat next to each other and he taught me things about work. After a brief orientation, he showed me his feel-at-home supplies. He had containers of coffee and sugar, packs of creamer, teaspoons, and even offered me his mug to drink on. He told me to just get what I want, to feel at ease. Every night, we talked about random things like life, family, his adventures, our dreams (separately) and little on relationships and love. He used to read newspaper articles at the station. I usually sat in front of him and wrote notes. Conversation was always present. I told him about me working as a part-time tutor before being hired at the hospital. He asked me what I teach and how I handle the kids, if I get annoyed or pissed if they're being brats. Then I would ask him about his work experience. After an hour or two of conversing, he would go to the other room to rest.

There was this one night when I was counting the tablets and capsules and he was reading a newspaper beside me. We talked about relationships. Then there was this awkward moment of silence. No one spoke or tried to open a new topic after my short "ah" response. I continued counting and he continued reading. It was awkward and no one dared to break the silence for a few seconds. Then he stood from his chair and went to get/check something in the cabinet and took the initiative to start a new topic. It was awkward enough for me to want to disappear from my seat but good thing he cut the string of dead air.

I was awkward, he was too. I used to like him. He likes someone else.

I learned some things from that one month. It's to enjoy the present, be thankful for what is there but never holding it tight, to move on and to accept, to let go. :) 
I learned to climb. Climb and conquer my mountains of self-doubts and second best. I may be bruised but the view was breathtaking.  

Teenage angst: Rights

I was on my way to sign out when I saw a group of teenagers, say high schoolers, in a commotion. Two girls were crying and the boys were trying to comfort them. From what I've heard, there's a misunderstanding within the group. I think it was about the girls having no role in their play because of reason I didn't overhear. And then I realized...

When we're young, we tend to think that fighting for our own rights is the most courageous thing we could do. Everything is a big deal to us. We tend to think we're always right and we must be heard. But as we grow older and become more mature, as we let God mold us, as we love more, our rights become less of importance and we listen more to people's opinions. We learn the therapeutic use of silence when our pride wants to shout in rage. We think of ourselves less and more of others. We give more and take less. We let go and move on. We keep going.

little HIGH, little low..hello Highschool!

I know my title is boring and corny but who cares? I want it that way haha

First day of high school put me in a clutter. Who wouldn't? It was my first time studying in a government school and that is not just a school. You have to fight your way through to finish until the end. Before entering, I have heard countless stories of students being kicked out, of hundreds of sleepless nights they have to endure, of thousands of bucks their parents have to spend for a project, of hours and hours straining their neck reading and memorizing or doing homework. It felt to the 13-year old me that the moment I stepped into the school grounds was the moment I stepped in a fun-sipping lair, taking all the fun out from a teenager and imprisoning her to books and geometry and history. (Well, I love/fascinated with history! And biology's my favorite.) I dreaded being suffocated with facts and numbers and equations and signs, and even following me in my dreams. I was used to studying 'til my brain explodes but not being pressured. In short, high school freaked me out.

And so the first day came. I knew a handful of classmates but they were just acquaintances. I remember not talking to my seatmate. We both faced the opposite direction. My classmate near us was laughing at us. Then we were asked to get a small piece of paper (1/8) and to write something I forgot. I handed my seatmate a small paper but we still didn't talk that day. It was hilarious, I tell you. My laughing classmate still remembers it up to this day. That's my only clear memory of my first day.

I remember our multipurpose green skirt. It can be used to sweep and shine the corridor floor or as a dressing room before CAT. You can also use it as a linen to lie on. Or you can use it simply as a skirt. :)

I remember our precious fingers. They are used to take all 10 stones in one hand or do "tuldok" and "around the world" to win the class tournament of Jackstone. They can also hold precious gems to defeat the gruesome opponents in "Pusoy Dos" tournament. I remember our class having a new name, the RP2, short for Republika ng Pusoy 2 because in every corner of the room, you can see students having Pusoy Dos tournament. We even go home late just to finish the tournament. We had this game where my friend had the aces and twos but she still lost (haha!). And of course, we use our fingers to copy endless notes, design our notebooks like a journal, type numbers on calculator or multiply numbers using them, and answer brain-draining exams.

Mini boodle fight was never absent in high school or maybe in my case. When you have food, you share it (even if you don't want to haha). I remember always packing 2 servings for lunch because my classmates would share with my baon. They would sometimes get the best part! haha! There were classmates who would roam around the room collecting viands and they would return to their seat with a fiesta-like lunch on one of the other student's box lid. There's a saying, "When you have a jug, everybody gulps."

 

And there's our sturdy flagpole. We used it as one of the bases in Outan Base / Moro-moro. Moro-moro is one of the class games. It is fun and at the same time, a very serious game. People got injured and went home with abrasions on palms and wrecked jogging pants and blood-stained knees. We also played Marco Polo, Stop!. It is a physical game and needs balance, flexibility, and presence of mind. Yes we smelled awful but who cares? We had fun and the time was ours!

Our minds exercised their creativity in designing our armchairs. Yes, armchairs! During the first week of the school year, we were given time to decorate our armchair. We put pictures, doodled words, covered it with cartolina, glitters, anything we want, then we put plastic cover for protection. Yes, we treasured our armchairs very much!

We also had a reading nook. The back part of our classroom was decorated to look like a mini library. Ours had plant pots and a trailway! We had all sorts of books that we rarely touched any of them for fear that the pages may tear! Most were old books. It was donated by who-know-who. I think we won the contest.

I think that's all for now. There's so much about high school that I want to share but this entry is getting looong!

-to be continued on another entry....hopefully :)

They don't speak French, do they?

I once admired a young lad my age. He was quite tall for our age, quite handsome and quite dark. His smile was sparkling and his eyes had so much life. He was quiet around girls but boisterous among boys, a typical man-wannabe. He didn’t mingle much with girls and his company was boys, always, until I came (ehem!). He was a mystery to me at first that’s why I asked God that we become close. We became seatmates and found a lot of similarities with each other. He was nice and cool. He liked to tease me and we always talked. He would compete with me academically. He even offered me lollipops which I declined because everybody’s looking. He searched for me with a few classmates and teachers when I was left during our field trip because another classmate of ours asked me to accompany her to buy some souvenirs. We became an item at school; even the canteen staffs were teasing us, though nothing really developed because he liked his best friend’s crush. Our friendship lasted for a year.

Then highschool came; everything in my primary years was left behind. There’s this boy who mistook me for a boy. We talked about games and animes and even dissected a frog together where I acted the masculine role. He even went to our house to play video games with my brother. We were also almost an item at our class. Even our teachers teased us. It was nothing for us and our closeness only lasted for a year.

College came. I joined youth gatherings in our church. I met this guy who’s 2 years older than me. He was for me, my knight in shining braces. He always said the right words in a non-romantic way, of course. He’s beyond friendly (well, for me) and would initiate conversation. It felt light whenever I was talking to this guy though butterflies were residing and fluttering their wings in my stomach. I would stutter and flush and smile unconsciously. He’s such a gentleman. Yes, I liked this man and even shed tears for reason I’m too lazy to elaborate here. I liked him to the point of avoiding him. I was scared of being rejected. And so, this didn’t last also. We didn’t become close. Duties, homeworks, and exams made me too busy to attend the youth gatherings. Now, I haven’t seen him for months.  

Board exam was nearing and I met this young man during the review. He was super friendly and also wore braces but he’s not a knight. He’s a year younger than me. I saw him transform from a rain-drenched boy to a warm man. He was nice but something didn’t fit. He’s like a fuzzy elephant. I considered him as friend and was never aware or denied the fact that he liked me more than that. He liked me but I never knew about it until he left. Yes, he left and I lost a friend. He was the melodramatic but jumpy type of guy. He’s also one heck of a gentleman.

Among these gents in my life, there’s this one that I met when I was around 7 years old. He, to me that age, was my superhero whom I can always go to and tell him about the villains at school and I am certain that he will come to my rescue and kick the bad guys’ butts! Then he became my friend, a very close friend. I would cry to him, laugh with him, be a crazy child with him. There are days when I would feel he left me for someone who needed him more or someone who’s nicer than I am; there are days when I would get tampo with him; and some days when I am just too lazy to have a cup of tea with him. When I first cried because of heartbreak, he was there and offered a shoulder. When I didn’t pass the admission exam for a certain university, he was there telling me there’s something better ahead. When my professors scolded me and slapped the word “idiot” on my face, he was there, holding me in his arms. He's always there. He didn't leave me nor turn his back on me when the whole world did. He stayed and stays. He's my superhero, my bestfriend, my lover, my comforter, my counselor, my provider, my shepherd, my Savior, my Lord and my God, Jesus; He's everything.

Jesus is closer to you than you think. He's not a distant or seasonal God. He's with you and in you.

Friends, don't search for security and love in the wrong places. Look at Jesus and let yourself rest in His love. Jesus is not hard to reach. He loves having conversations with us. Have inside jokes with Him, cry to Him, Jesus can take them all :)

 I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.

John 15:15

Adventure, can you hear me?

Adventure...does it exist?

I was watching a historical romantic Korean drama about a girl who disguises herself  as a boy to enter a prestigious school exclusively for, yes you guessed it right, boys. Her desire to learn and to change her life drove her to do such act. In the drama, our heroine encounters many challenges - triumphs and defeats. But a protagonist is never alone. She has 3 young lads along with her in her adventures inside the school and in life. There, I said it. Adventure. That word popped into my mind while watching the drama. Her life's full of adventures..not a dull minute. Well yes because it's fiction but still I want to believe real lives are more colorful than what we see in dramas.

And so a question was raised. Adventure? Does it still exist? 

 After watching, I saw my dad downstairs on his usual place. He was sitting at the far end of the table facing his laptop watching videos/news. My dad used to have lots of adventures but not now. He stays at home, watches news, washes my uniforms, watches news, sometimes watches movies, finds job in the internet, and stays home most of the week. What is adventure for him?

I look at my life. Nothing seems to move and it's not also being still. It feels like I am stuck somewhere in this endless universe. My life seems to be in a box labeled "work". I spend 5 days a week working. Work is not hard, it not just it. I want to love what I do. I want to work in such a way that even if I'm not paid with a hefty amount, I would still work and give my 100% because I love it.

I think my life is plain. Adventure seems a far off destination I could not go.
But then I squeezed my brain to bring to surface my lost memoir of adventures.

As a kid, adventure was as simple as running along the corridor with your friends, collecting newspapers for school project, running in the rain, cheering for your team, cleaning the classroom, going to new places outside your city, boat ride in less than a minute, getting your dream clothes for a very low price, dissecting a frog, walking late on the street, discovering a personal space at school where only you know, sneaking to get a glimpse of your crush, and the list goes on.

As a kid, everything is an adventure. Where does that spirit go? I have yet to uncover. Hopefully I could find it again. Finding it seems like the start of an adventure, don't you think? :-)

Kite