pakipot

good morning sunshine!

someone: muzta? nu balita?

me: wala naman... im ok. u?

someone: how come u don't text na?

me: ah. just realized i have better things to do than wait for ur reply/ies. ^_^

someone: to naman... jowk na naman.

me: ndi ah. totoo un...

thinking: i can see the mile wide smile on his face... *irk*

slainte

year was 2004 when i first reported here at the army headquarters. it was a monday, i came to report after two hours of sleep because i have to finish the project i signed myself up as a 'supervisor' at the previous work. i drafted the resignation letter on a friday, 11pm; passed it first thing on the saturday; work til dawn of sunday and reported here on a monday. yes... how quickly my life changed.

the first officer i reported to was cpt boyet dulay, the first soldier i talked to was cpl jessica valdez, the first office i reported to is located at the command and general staff college building.

that was three years ago.

and after three years, i continue to have this love/hate relationship with this job. three years of sweat and hardwork. three years of love and hate.

now i have more than a battalion of networks, all top brass, all admirable. they taught me to develop myself, my personality, my patience. i have learned a lot and is learning still.

so through this all, slainte! to the future...

p.s i bought a book on the serenity prayer last night, my gift to myself...

God grant me the serenity

to accept the things i cannot change,
the courage to change the things that i can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.

more years

to the song of my heart, nikka, who is celebrating her 18th birthday today... i love you, sis!

this date last year, nikka was admitted to the hospital due to a very serious and complicated case of thyphoid fever. she was sallow, unfocused and hallucinating. she was seventeen. she had five transfusions, had more than six shots a day, had taken more pills and medicines than i could have imagined, underwent medication and recuperated for half a year. she missed her final exams at UST. through it all, she made it.

she is strong and brave and her heart is true. God had always been faithful to His promises and though we may never have visited a church during that time, it was when we prayed the hardest. there was no room for fear or doubts. i, even for a second, did not doubt that nikka would make it. to this day, i've always wondered how we could be so strong and i realized that God talks to us not in words, not in a way that is obvious. He assures us of things that we can only grasp through faith: we have to BELIEVE.

nikka, our very own drama princess, you are strong, brave and beautiful. you are intelligent and capable of so many wonderful things. you are all those and more, and you have to believe it.

we love you... until this world ends and beyond, you will always be special. be happy, sis. God bless...xox

stigma

i am currently in the phase of discovering batch reunions. and just recently, i've discovered that i am loving it. well, it was a long way from the very different me who sans the memory of high school life...hay skul, i used to say. i am singing a different tune now.

i have several realizations after the nine and a half years i did not see some of my high school batchmates. and at this age, i am amazed to have found out that we've grown quite differently from what i am expecting.

i've realized that almost all of the guys had a crush (at one point in their HS life) on two of our girl batchmates... quite expected really because those two are the batch's prettiest.

i've realized that some of the coolest guys grew up to be the biggest jerks. consequently, some of the boring nerds and uncool, un-'crushable' types grew up to be admirable and responsible men. and there are still those, who, after six months short of a decade, are still blissfully unaware and misinformed.

some never moved on after their first heartbreaks; while some found their better half among the batch. and there are those who, until now, are still working on their courage to tell somebody their true feelings.

nine years is a long time. some lost weight; some gained it. some bloomed while some withered; others never seemed to have changed at all. and there are some who said goodbye to the batch a bit earlier than they should have to. they are missed; their memories still etched in the hearts of those of us who remains.

i realized that time will never stop for anyone and that every minute counts. time wasted will never be recovered. we can never take too many pictures. some of the best things remained undocumented. there are memories that until this day remained indescribeable and inexpressible; they remain as emotions too poignant to be forgotten.

so, eventhough i failed to tell every single one of my batchmates how thankful i am that they became part of my life, i will never again go back to that phase when i seemed to want to forget them. xox

on seanachies and word artists

currently transporting favorite entries from my other blog in multiply.

i rarely have the urge to write something that really conveys my thoughts, my feelings and myself. to be honest, i find it scary. i don't know why people would sometimes automatically label me as 'writer' just because they know that i took up mass communications and majored in journalism. in my mind, it won't automatically make you a writer. so when people tell me, "so writer ka" or "writer ka pala", i just shrug or make a facial expression that suits my mood at that moment. i think it conveys my thoughts about the matter clearer than any spoken word.

the thing is, i do not really consider myself a writer. i know most people would argue, especially because i have been known to make a living claiming to be a writer. i write articles, speeches, programmes and scripts and sometimes copyread the written words. i had a stint in maintaining a blog, professionally. but i am not a writer. the above mentioned are things that i do to make a living and it seemed enough for the employers, the ones who pay me to do those things, and the ones who believed that i am indeed a writer. i beg to differ.

my personal definition of a writer is not just someone who writes words. an accountant who does accounting professionally might not consider himself an accountant. it just happened that accounting is what he does for a living. what you say you are should convey a whole lot about you not just what you do to make money. it should be borne out of your passion, your heart and mind, your soul. it is not that something you went to college for. what you went to school for is a formal education. something that we need to get a job and make a living. something that answers the 'occupation' part on a personal data sheet and something that you tell people when they ask you "and you are?..." which of course translates to query about what you do for a living because that would be how people would judge you and assess your worth.

a writer should write for himself first, for others, second. i have not known myself to accomplish the first; and i pass as a writer doing the latter. so when i sometimes forget myself and claim to be a writer, forgive me and just forget about it unless you are a potential employer. it was a slip, and i am probably drugged and delusional at that moment.

i claim to do many things, but for now, i just want to be a storyteller.

blogger

i'm currently experiencing lay-out troubles huh...

bits...

post transported from my other blog in multiply.

i have to write this, i really do.

i had the craziest dream last night. in that dream, i was alternating my 'reality' between baguio and diliman, and mountain province, and writing down entries in this blog.

i miss baguio and UP, and i think, that due to the rather nostalgic visit to sayoterepublic yesterday, that i had this dream.

begin dream...

i was in a some sort of lodge with tita, tito and raymond. and i was looking out of the window, admiring the view of UP Baguio among the landscape of trees and mountain. and i was writing in a blog on tita's laptop to peaches de guzman (a talented photographer whose work i admire and whose site i almost always visit; and the friend of my friend george). i was writing:

dear peaches,
you should see the view of UP baguio after summer. the leaves are just beginning to fall and i couldn't help but wonder at the beauty of God's creation. the leaves in green and brown, perfect against the landscape of greenish-bluish mountain; and the view of my beloved alma mater in green and maroon, majestic against it all. you should see it from where i am...

and then forgetting i do not know where i am, i nudged my cousin raymond, who was blissfully reading a book, beside me.

i asked: "asan nga tayo ulit 'aymon?"

and he said, "mountain province" without so much a glance at me.

i can remember my exact words as i write it in my blog because i was reading and re-rereading it; though i do not doubt that i cannot see UP baguio from a small lodge in mountain province; or that i'd exchange correspondence with peaches de guzman.

and then before i realize it, i was in UP baguio, in the spot where manang mane used to be, but by now a rather lonely looking visitors' lobby of the new UP baguio (its structures in white, pink and green haha). there was some campaign going on, with students infront of oble, holding some assembly of sort. i can read the ACS and CADUA banners, and the frats, soros, confrats and org banners lining the covered walk to the guard house. and i approached a girl wearing a CADUA shirt.

i asked her, "gurl, are you from the north?"

and she said, "hindi po, taga-sorsogon po ako."

and then i asked, "do you know the meaning of CADUA?"

and then she looked at me with that look that said "duh?"

and then i realized we were in diliman, infront of the UP theater, and i saw a former schoolmate named Au (short-haired lady, i do not really remember except for the name and appearance and that she's in the batch below us. i can't exactly remember by how many years), looking at me rather contemptuously because i was talking to the girl in CADUA shirt.

and the girl i was talking to whispered to me: "galit yata siya ate, kilala mo ba siya?"

me: "sino? si Au? oo, schoolmate ko yun. sa up baguio. ikaw ba?"

the girl: "hindi, diliman ako, nung first year pa."

and then i was back in UP baguio, talking to manang mani in the old UP Baguio and i was telling her, "miss ko na po dito. yung lumang buildings, ung 20's at yung hagdan papuntang HD (humanities division)."

and then i woke up. no joke. i woke up, sweaty and nostalgic.

as i've said, i miss baguio, and UP baguio and the people i used to know.