Let’s Start From The End

March 26 - Lit Finals.

The room was small, hot and full unlike the coolest classroom in CTC where we held (most) of our English and Lit classes during the second semester. The test was hard and it blew my brains into smithereens. Some blockmates finished early, REALLY early. Some of them were stuck staring blankly on the test questionnaire and trying to figure how to answer question number 3. Two hours went by so fast and suddenly I realized that the room is almost half-empty. Some of my blockmates  were no longer there. No goodbyes, no goodlucks no “see you around’s.” Kinda sad if you think about it. Hey! Two sems together is not something to be neglected. It’s actually pretty big considering that those two sems were the first two sems of college life. So R49 was no more without proper “acknowledgements.” But based on the two sems that I was part of R49, I realized that that is how we roll! (How we rolled)

R49 is a weird class (weird in a cool way). Each person in the class never really knew everyone in the class, but the class was always united when it came to cramming, 5-minute preparations for a 15-minute presentation, hating that one teacher who never taught anything, laughing at each other’s kasabawan and bla bla bla. The class was unique: from having and not having Jun as part of the class to being transferred to a different classroom and being assigned back the old and cold classroom, everyday was different in R49.

I also met friends here (yehey for me!)! I remembered how shy I was when I first asked Sam for a piece of paper when we had our  first Lit 13 quiz or how hesitant I was to laugh at Nicko’s jokes during the first sem or how I always thought that Christine would kick my ass if I bumped her chair and many more scenarios. Who would have thought that I would be comfortable enough to show my true self (the loud-mouth, super hyper, brutal me) to them? Who would have thought that I would tease Christine and Sam to their own respective love interests? HMMMM.

No farewells after two sems? Hmmm.. Who said this is goodbye anyway? We’ll be seeing each other still. And I hope that we would be able to use the things we learned (En11 - still waiting, Lit 13- Short Story Analysis, En12- WRITING! Lit 14 - Poetry Appreciation).

See you around

*Ma’m! Akala ko na post ko na ‘to, saved as draft lang pala :|. Nung March 29 ko pa po ’to pinost (sana lumubas ung date) Wah… sayang bonus.. oh well

Summer Time!!!

MY GOD!!! It’s finally over!!!! No more English and Lit classes for the next four years!! Funny how such an “important” class can be one of the biggest pains (no offense of course to our lovely teachers).

After the Lit exam all I wanted to do was toss my english and lit books right out the window or simply into the trash can. I almost did but would have been a waste of my money. I also realized while I was putting the books away that my times spent during english and lit periods weren’t all that bad. Granted that it was boring, but what subject isn’t?

Although i didn’t really make any actual friends among you guys in my block, i still had a generally easy going time. I never actually studied for anything during our eng and lit subjects and i still got generally passing grades. Not bad really considering nearly no effort.

Honestly i feel like am going to miss eng and lit class. Not really so much as i want to see your faces every other day. But because for me, eng and lit were a couple of easy classes that i could relax in and put minimal effort in to pass. Again no offense to mam, not saying that you are a bad teacher or anything since eng was kinda easy. Am sure naman everyone will thank you for making our en12 a breeze. Favorite class ko mam

anyway, i suppose goodbyes are in order. however i was never very good at them. simply because  i don’t believe a goodbye with this situation is right. i guess for me goodbye means the last time you will ever see of someone else. cliche yes but in a way very true. so am not gonna say goodbye, am gonna say see you later.

BTW mam, i know am a few mins late in posting kaya doesn’t matter pag may bonus pa ito. kahit di na mam. peace. enjoy your summer people

Ending with a Smile and a Frown

“What a relief! No more English and Lit. classes.” This was the first thing that came into my mind upon finishing the Lit final exam. I felt like there was something that was lifted off my back and it felt great. I walked to the dorm with a smile on my tired face. I was absolutely ready to face what is in store for me as a sophomore.

Upon reaching the dorm, I immediately cleaned up my place and gathered all the papers and notebooks scattered on my bed and on my table. When I was fixing all the materials in English and Lit, the first thing that caught my eyes was the bundle of papers of some of the group work done in class. I looked through the papers and examined the people I worked with for the past two sems. I just smiled while looking through them but eventually that smile disappeared.

I prefer not to smile not because the scores of the papers were getting bad but because I am not going to work with those people anymore. Maybe I still can but I think that it will never be the same experience. As I looked through the papers, I tried to remember how we introduced ourselves to each other during the first day of classes and how we started to chat, tell jokes and laugh. I smiled as I remembered how I became close with some of my English block mates. However, as I folded the papers and kept them in a box, I can’t avoid to frown. I will certainly miss those guys.

Then I moved on with my cleaning and gathered my drafts and papers. As what I’ve did with the others, I also looked through the marks done by the teachers on my papers. I was slightly ashamed for the mistakes I did on some of my drafts. As I went through the reading of my teacher’s comments, I remembered how they disagreed with the class transferring to the third floor because of some injured guy. I, for myself, was pissed since I still have to go up the third floor and stay in a warm room. When that injured guy was already able to walk, my Lit teacher requested that we go back to the air-conditioned ctc 102 even if the sem is already about to end. It was good news. That proves how we love that weird-smelling room.

As I kept those drafts, I felt lucky for having them as my teachers. I certainly learned a lot not like the disappointing teacher I had during the first sem. They made the classes fun but boring sessions were unavoidable. They made my second sem englit classes memorable. And one more thing, they’re cool teachers. (I am expressing nothing but the truth. Promise!)

My englit experience will never be complete without my english group mates. They’re the best even though they bully me every single englit class. I think it started last January and since then their teasing never stopped. It is sad that I won’t be able to work with them now. How fast time flies.

Every englit class is always spent with laughter. Maybe it is due to the people comprising R49 or maybe the kind of interaction that these people make. Whatever it may be, I will certainly miss them and the atmosphere the class makes. It is sad that there will no longer be R49 classes in that weird-smelling ctc 102. Goodbye and I am hoping that we be block mates again in the future.    

I closed the box and placed it in a corner. I smiled and wiped my sweat in the forehed as I sat in relief. I am done with my cleaning, I am done with englit. I smiled on the outside but frowned on the inside for I am facing a new start and ending a good part.

       

Money is the root of all …

We all have different views on money. To some money itself is life, to others it is the root of all evil and the cause of suffering in this world. To others it is a luxury in excess while someone else might just never seem to have enough to keep himself alive. With such vast differences on how we treat money it is easy see why the only thing we agree upon is that money is essential for our day to day lives.

When we classify something as essential we value it a lot. So what exactly is the true value of money? One could argue that money’s value can be measured by how much it can buy others may say it depends on the value assigned to it, hence a million pesos is greater than a peso. Still the more green minded might say that its value can be measured against the big green, the dollar.

While all those definitions are true, I find that the best way to see money’s value is to see it for what it is really worth. This value differs from person to person and cannot be measured.

Growing up my parents stressed the value of money. Like most kids I got both the “money doesn’t grow on trees “ and “if you want something you have to work for it” lectures.  Repetition made sure that those words were ingrained in my mind.

 I’m sure we all valued money even at a  young age. As a kid my parents gave me my allowance in lump sum at the start of the week, if I ran out of money during the middle of the week then it was my fault and I would have to suffer the consequences. That was my first taste of the true value of money and how ‘hard’ life was… well not really.

I grew up without much want and though we weren’t rich my allowance was more than enough to get me both what I needed and wanted. If I needed extra cash my parents were close by and I could more often than not convince them into giving me a little extra.  Such was the case in high school where many of my projects were funded by my parents. Cartolina, Illustration board, markers, glue, printing where usually charged to them. I basically I only paid for the extras while my parents paid the necessities.

You could say my life was more than adequate and that I could have easily abused my parents but I didn’t. I saw what they had to go through to provide for our family and I knew it was no easy task.

For a long time that was how I measured the true value of money, through other peoples eyes. Boy, was I wrong…

When I entered college it was a totally different story. I left the comfort of my home for the big city, Manila. At first everything worked out for me. They sent me a lump sum allowance at the beginning of every month which I would have to budget. No problems there, or so I thought.

Things began to change when I slowly realized how different my spending in college would be. Aside from the fact that life in Manila is generally more expensive I was alone now so I had no source of extra money. For the first time in my life I was forced to account for and budget what I had. This was a bit new to me since I never had to do any real budgeting before.  

Along with accounting for every little peso comes the realization of how much you really spend and how little you have. When it was all written down I saw that was going over budget.

Aside from the day to day expenses, I didn’t account for emergencies. This is what really threw me off budget. Medicine for fever and paying for a dentist was never cheap but when you pay for it yourself you realize just how expensive these things are.

Then of course there’s the case of delayed budgets. Recently I suffered from this, apparently my parents forgot to send me money before they left for vacation. According to them it was useless to send me money since I would be joining them soon. That was my first taste of deficit.

Okay so maybe I exaggerate the gravity of my situation. It’s not like any of the situations mentioned above compare to the day to day struggle of the poor of this country. However my reactions are genuine. In the past few months in college I have learned to appreciate money and place higher value on it.  

I realize of course that my life is still relatively easy as I am still dependent on my parents. Thinking about when a time when I will be working and providing for myself is a little intimidating. If I am having problems now when the money doesn’t come from me I imagine it to be much harder.

Of course, I have a few years to perfect my skills in budgeting and accounting. Both my parents say it was never easy when they started earning but they eventually learned the ropes. I only hope that someday I may too.

And so it ends

You have no idea how long I have waited for this day. I thought I was going to go mad waiting for its arrival. Of course, the fact that I was buried up to my neck (almost literally) in work helped to keep my mind off it but even a short lull in my work meant more longing for it.

       What am I talking about? Two things…

      1.The End of this school year

2    2. Summer

 

While I have been eagerly anticipating these two things I can’t say that I’m 100% enthusiastic. The prospect of staying in Manila for summer classes in this stifling heat doesn’t appeal much to me. But I think what bothers me more is the fact this year is over. Yes I’m happy, no question about it but approaching the end means doing something I have never been good at saying good bye.

 

But before we go to the sappy good byes, I have a few questions…

Do you know what makes English blocks different from all other classes?

Obviously with a little thought you come up with the answer that English blocks are basically a group of people attending what appears to be one lengthy and continous year long class. Yes it was purposely set up that way since both English and Literature are subjects that need a higher degree of interaction. Let’s face it you need better connections with the people in your class if you were to stage a play than say… study for an LT in zoo (or math/chem if you people prefer).

Here’s a fun little trivia. If you didn’t know used to be one day dedicated to getting to know your English blocks during Orsem. I could have imagined that… one awkward day with people I didn’t yet know but would later be called R49, but after one year with you guys maybe it might have been fun.

Anyway, what happened to this you ask?

It was decided to remove that day since they found it redundant. They observed that English blocks would bond together throughout the year anyway.

So… back to the sappy good byes…

All good things must come to an end and so while it pains me to say this, I bid adieu to my English block, R49.

 

This year has been an interesting one and R49 has been a big part of it. I hold many memories of this crazy bunch that I will be hard to forget.

 

The peaceful and conducive to sleep este learning atmosphere of En 11 and DEAR time. (Don’t deny)

The “research trips” to Cubao for our feature articles

The sudden rush of students to the library during Fridays for DEAR

The last minute/last second readings for Lit

The nosebleed moments from lit poems

The crazy last minute plays/presentations/reports

The trees we hurt for the paper we used for all our requirements

The lowered class population before Math LTs

The ring-binded books

The usage of wherein

The thoughtful ‘asaran’

The crazy ‘hirits’ (cough*junmoments*cough)

The beggars for ½ sheets of paper (guilty!!!)

The wonderful groupings (Wherein!!)

The blogging moments for En 12

The anonymous comments from superheroes

The outrage over losing CTC 102 and the rejoicing when we got it back

The comfortable albeit smelly CTC 102

And of course all the teachers (not to mention our “substitute” for En 11)

 

Ok, so we weren’t the best class academically but we have potential. However, for me it was the best and I wouldn’t have traded you guys for any other English block.

 

Unfortunately, time is bearing down on us and the end of our time together is here. Good bye R49

Today we part as classmates, but we will never part as friends… (At least I hope so)

When Goodbye Means Hello

“Why does it always take a minute to say hello and forever to say goodbye?”

You may ask this to yourself several times already because the saying itself is certainly true for most people. It’s just so easy to meet a lot of people, but the hardest part of it is to bid farewell because those people have etched a mark in your life that made you the person that you are. It’s just hard to forget all those memories and it’s just hard to know that those moments my never happen again.

Time really flies by so fast. A few months ago, we didn’t know each other’s names. We didn’t know each other’s personality. We didn’t know each other’s favorites. We didn’t know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. We didn’t know each other’s face. In short, we were just strangers to each other. But, that was before and it’s different now.

After two semesters together as English block mates, R49 has surely bonded together through a lot of serious hard work, stress, cramming sessions, crazy antics and “sabaw” moments. EN 11, LIT 13, EN 12, LIT 14-  I can clearly remember how much work we had to do for those subjects. I can clearly remember how our block always crammed role-plays, papers, interviews and group reports. I can clearly call to mind how Noel would always tease Christine and me. I can clearly remember how people loved to kid around. I can clearly recall how our block was “always prepared” for En 11 presentations just discussing the report minutes before the class starts and how we crammed for assigned readings minutes before class. I guess we weren’t really the best class at being prepared and all perfect, but the ways we dealt with our tasks and the crazy things we did make every moment in R49 the best. (Really the BEST!:)) And I’m glad that I met people like English block mates because they made freshman year easier to bear with.

And now that our freshman year has come to an end (wow! we’re already sophomores!), this also signals the end of the English and Lit classes. This also indicates that there will be no more 2:30 to 4:30 classes at CTC 102 MWF learning about essays, drama or poetry for us. Goodbye to all those lessons. Goodbye to the air-conditioned CTC 102. Goodbye to English. Goodbye to Lit. Goodbye to R49. But, all these goodbyes are just temporary goodbyes because somewhere in the big campus of Ateneo, we’ll still see each other’s faces and say our hi’s, hello’s and how are you?’s.

So, to R49, thank you for making my freshman year memorable and worth it. This also signals a goodbye to all of you, but alongside that goodbye is a hello and a smile that says “see you someday somewhere in campus.”

 

The Road Less Traveled

“Two roads diverged in a wood
And I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference”

-Robert Frost

 

It was almost 10 pm. Speeding up my pace, I rode a bus from Greenhills to the V. Mapa station of the LRT2. I was worried that I might miss the last train to Katipunan; this was my only way of going home with limited cash (P100 to be exact), and limited time. Honestly, I wasn’t able to ask for permission that I would go to Greenhills; my parents knew that I was in Katipunan with a few good old friends. The bus trailed on and I saw a beacon of light, shining hope upon the hopeless; the train station. And look! It was still a thirty minutes before 10. I will make it, I said.

 

Fast-forward to when I reached Katipunan station (Nobody would like to hear the whole train ride, nothing much happened really). As I climbed the stairs of the only underground station of the LRT, I was greeted with an eerie atmosphere. The station had a sight that I wasn’t familiar of. Being underground, nobody can distinguish if the sun had set or it was scorching above. But the mere unfamiliar sight of the station gave me the correct time. The ticketing machines had stopped buzzing and beeping and they had no lines in front of them. Not a single soul was rushing down the platform to catch the next train. And the usually jam-packed Aurora Boulevard was empty.

 

While walking, a multitude of ideas swirled in the bowls of my subconscious. I wondered what has happened to my friends who I left in Greenhills. Probably, they would have been fetched by their drivers in their luxury cars. They would have made with no hassles to their grand mansion in the most exclusive villages in the metro.

 

While I walk alone, illuminated by the orange glow of the street lights, I pondered on these thoughts. I was saddened by the fact that I am probably the least financially capable student in my block. I don’t have my own car, lest my own driver. My family doesn’t live in a grand mansion complete with maids and all the house-help a house needs. I am just lucky to be a scholar in the Ateneo since high school. There’s no big name to ruin, no humongous treasure to spend.

 

From Greenhills to Katipunan, I had to ride a jam-packed bus, walk from SM Sta. Mesa to the LRT station, ride the second to the last train to Katipunan Station, and walk with unknown shadows in Aurora Boulevard and Katipunan Avenue. No luxury cars, no drivers, and no money.

 

But when I was a kid, I was taught to think of the positives. I would remember my lola telling me to always look at things on the bright side. And so I did. I wondered, what do I have that my pampered friends don’t have? They don’t have the calloused feet that I attained from miles of walking. They don’t have the aching knees that I got while running up the stairs of countless overpasses and train stations. They don’t have the fear of being robbed, or killed, while walking in dark, empty, unaccommodating alleys.

 

Talk about positivity.

 

Then again, they don’t have the experiences I had while walking with these calloused feet. They don’t have the glorious feeling whenever the pain of these knees recedes. They don’t have the constant longing for home and the warm and cozy feeling, the sense of security, and the open arms that welcome me whenever I reach my destination.

 

I have nothing against my friends. It doesn’t matter to them whether I have a driver or not. It doesn’t matter to them if I live in an exclusive village or not. All that matters is that we are the closest of friends, and that we would stick together whatever happens. It is just that their families have been more blessed compared to mine. They have resources that I would not attain in many years time. But nature created its own balance. What they have, I don’t have. But there are intangible things that I have that they don’t have. The experiences I had, the sights and scenes I have laid my eyes upon, and the memories that I would always cherish forever. These things, immaterial they may be, will last as long as I live.

 

And it took me a bus ride, a train ride, and a walk at 10 in the evening with the fear of death to realize this.

 

“Manila, here I come!”

             Staring at the clear blue sky overhead the green tall trees, I daydream of the big university in the big city and the adult and independent life. I join the chats and chuckles of my girl friends about how wonderful and exciting college will be while waiting for that ever familiar ring of our school bell. I untiringly talk about my plans to my supportive parents and my hardly attentive sister. I eagerly answer any question regarding my future and my replies carry tones of certainty and carefreeness.

           

            “Puwera bisita, puwera bisita.” The familiar call that ships send through its dusty speakers announces its near departure. I and my mother look down to the port where the familiar figures of my tubby father, my lean sister, and my adorable baby brother stay fixed. However, their faces express unfamiliar sadness to my admittedly shocked heart. I grip my mother’s shoulders, look into her eyes and ask if I could bear the distance.

            “Calling passengers of Cebu Pacific flight 518J bound for Manila. Boarding is at gate 4.” I and my mother enter the plane and search our seats through the familiar dull cushioned seats, thick carpeted aisle and stale scent of the aircon. We try to comfortably fixate ourselves to the narrow seats and enclosed space made to look comfy and light by beautiful stewards and stewardesses. Suddenly, I feel nostalgia growing inside myself as I were about to leave Visayan ground. I touched my mother’s hand, look into her eyes and ask if I could take the change.

“Nauuhaw ako. Gusto ko ng maginaw na tubig.” Laughter breaks the serious atmosphere. It is certainly an embarrassing moment. Who could blame a Boholana for making such mistake? Hearing tagalog words everywhere is familiar to my ears. It is not like I am ignorant of such language. I hear it on TV and during Filipino classes. However, it is not enough that you know the Filipino language. You should be spontaneous in it. This spontaneity is unfamiliar to my speech. I feel alienated surrounded by words I know but enable to respond to. I feel alienated surrounded by humans who seemingly aren’t. The familiar language. The familiar crowd. The unfamiliar inability. The unfamiliar culture. No more mother to clutch but still I ask if I could survive in this new world.

            “Magbasa muna kayo ng rental law!” Tension grows in the middle of the street where the confrontation is happening. Tears fall. Voices rise. Finger points. Nothing seems familiar. I am just 17 years old. This is my first time to be away—to be in Manila. Same situation with my housemates. We are victims of fraud. Ten teenagers and a house help. Ten sisters and a mother. Unfamiliarity overshadows my perception of a beautiful and easy world. New words arrived at my ears, comprehended by my mind. Blotter. Sign documents. Within three months. Payments. I have no mother’s hand to touch but I got ten pairs to hold. I ask no more. Asking is useless. Blaming is more appropriate. The blame goes to none other than…ME. If I just didn’t choose this place and this school. If I just didn’t allow myself to be deceived. Was I just too ignorant? Was I just too overwhelmed? Pathetic Boholana teenager.       

           

            “I am not happy anymore.” Seems like a break-up line, isn’t it? But it isn’t a romantic kind of break-up, it is an academic one. I just realized that the path that was so clear when I was daydreaming during that clear day was gone. I can’t see it anymore. I seem confused and unsure. I feel that continuing education and life in this place won’t lead me to that path, won’t help me find that path, won’t help in focusing myself again. Everything is just hazy. However, one thing is certain. I am not happy. “Papa, Mama, gusto ko mobalhin (I like to transfer).” “Anak ka namo. Di mi masuko. Ok ra namo ug asa ka gusto. (You are our daughter so we won’t get angry. It’s fine with us since you want it.)” Their words grip and touch my heart. I look into myself and ask if I can start college the second time around. I have to start from the beginning since I am not taking minor subjects at present. I could if I would. Movie shooting even does twenty takes to perfect a scene. I should be thankful I am just having two takes.

           

            “P’rung, it’s like, I’m going to Katips because you know.” Going through freshman the second time around is difficult since the culture is different from what the already unfamiliar one in Las Pinas had. I have to only adjust to all of this. Well, easily said than done. But somehow I managed adjusting but retaining the Boholana person I was and will be. It is somehow manageable by recognizing the always unfamiliar culture but familiar world. It is already familiar because I learned from what I experienced in my previous school that the world is uncertain, absolutely not beautiful, changes people to be gripped, makes asking unavoidable.

            “Reality Check.” Daydreaming doesn’t do anything good since it leads you to be idealistic—to think of things as if you are in a fairytale. Studying in Manila will bring you far away from the clear blue sky overhead green tall trees so enjoy it now while it lasts. Once you step on university ground, things will never be the same again. Expect good education under a sea of dark smoke, hot air, and noise. The culture is alien. Don’t repress it nor force it to your system. Just flow with the unfamiliarity. Accept the fact that life is a not-so-pretty-and-awesome one here not only because you are far from home but also because the real world Manila offers you hide deception, danger, and ugliness somewhere. Most importantly, don’t be overwhelmed with the unfamiliarity that will welcome you. Stay focused. This will not only accomplish your mission but also will temporarily drive nostalgia away.

            “Calling passengers of flight C-O-L-L-E-G-E bound for Manila, board with your dreams. Plane is departing in two months.”       

Dealing with the Math

“Anything that involves math!” These simple few words were the answer I gave my parents a year and a half ago when they asked me what course I’d like to take in college alongside a radiant smile pasted on my face. So, I took a program that involves HARD-CORE math- MANAGEMENT ENGINEERING.

Was I planning on suicide when I decided to enroll myself in this course? This course includes a lot of hard-hitting math where the survival of the fittest is one of its challenges. In short, it’s one of the tough courses in the university and I already knew this even before the first day of college. But, I decided to brave the odds and see what lies ahead for me because after all, I felt enthusiastic with math.

There I was on the first day of college giddy as a child opening his colorfully wrapped presents for Christmas, along with so many questions in mind. Who are my teachers? What should I expect from the course? How will I be doing? What will be my study methods? How will the exams be? Even to simplest question of what to wear for school everyday? Or where to hang out during breaks? The questions just kept knocking on the doors of my mind waiting for a satisfying answer, but my mind couldn’t give an adequate answer. All it said was “Let’s wait and see.”

  The clock struck 12:30 pm and the bell rang. It was math time. As I hear the footsteps of the professor walking his way to the classroom, the excitement inside became more thrilled to start a semester of math. But, in an instant the excitement faded like a candle to its last wick. A TERROR TEACHER. Difficult exams and lots of late night bonding with the math book and the calculator- this images quickly overthrew most of the questions I had in mind a while ago. But, coming to my senses, I said at the back of my head, “I just have to study harder and let’s see… I think if I study, I can pull off with a good grade. I just have to take the challenge of a terror teacher.”

Long Test 1- 74

Long Test 2- 70 (what happened?!?!)

Long Test 3- 81 (a little improvement though)

It was shocking and terrible. I don’t know what happened. The moment I received my papers, it was just a sore sight to see. If I were to look back at my math performance in high school, long test 1 would be a failing grade, the second would crush the heart and the third one would already be depressing. These were not the grades I got back in high school. These were not the grades I set for myself. These were not the marks I wanted!

I thought I could go through college math feeling enthusiastic about it. But, I wasn’t. I thought that I could get A’s for every long test. But I didn’t. I thought that I could breezily sail through college math. But, I can’t.

The equations, functions and problems hit me hard telling me straight in the face that I can’t pull off college math using the same high school mathematical prowess. The feeling of wanting to just break down, cry and give up on trying to prove that the limit of the function as x approaches zero is equal to zero given this and that condition does not only happen once in a blue moon. It usually happens as often as the sun wakes up every morning to give the Earth its fair share of warmth and light. Sometimes I feel that I’ve lost the interest and eagerness to face those mathematical complexities that confront me. But, no matter how hard it was, I’m still surviving it (as of the moment I am) and what’s most important is that it has made me realize the valuable and hard truths about math and way beyond the scope of these numerical and quantitative problems.

Before I entered college, I was in love with math. I liked solving simultaneous equations. I liked factoring out equations. I liked to figure out those geometric figures. I liked to rattle my brain with mathematical formulas. I liked math over science or any subject. I liked everything about math.

I felt comfortable in the arms of numbers and equations. Some of my friends would usually question the use of math in business or in their future careers, but I didn’t. For me, math was going to be a major part of my future. I didn’t bother to welcome into my thoughts what my friends are saying about it. But, maybe I was too comfortable that I became too confident about it and college math was a bolt from the blue to me.

Fortunately, I have learned to take every matter seriously and not just any affair that I can easily breeze through. I have learned to humble myself from the thought that I can effortlessly deal with math. I was wrong when I said that I could do business with anything that involves math because it is one of my comfort zones. I guess I was at ease with math that I became too relaxed. And it got me thinking right now, where would I be standing right now if I didn’t have that eagerness the first day of college? Where would I be picking myself up at this moment? What would happen to me?

Looking back, I feel disappointed with my performance in college especially with math, but at the same time, I still consider myself lucky to still be surviving M.E.. And I give credit to hardwork, faith and a big help from my friends. Sure, math is does not easily love people back, but never give up on trying to win its heart. Just wait and see, your efforts will pay off. Maybe someday it will love you back.

Death

Death is never a happy thing,  But it’s natural and inevitable for all living things. As a Catholic, I believe that in dying, the soul will either go to heaven, purgatory or hell. It’s the end of our borrowed life, the end of earthly pain and sufferings and the start of the promise of God: eternal life. It sounds great right? Anyone who went through the experience of losing a loved one  would disagree.

If you think about it, funerals are held not for the deceased loved one but for the living who lost their loved one. It’s their way of moving on or accepting the death of their loved one. The funeral has no use whatsoever for the dead (because praying for the dead could be done anywhere).  Though a funeral (in a sick way) could be seen as some sort of a party (food, gambling, drinking, more food, sleepover etc.), going through it (specially being the “host” of the funeral) is one experience that I would like to avoid.

My first experience of losing a loved one happened when I was just an innocent 7 year old boy -  it was my big brother. There was a typhoon then and our house was flooded by floodwater. We had a machine to pump out the water out of the house. It was a freak accident and it happened so fast. Before sleeping, I remember saying goodnight to kuya and when I woke up, my mom was crying beside me. She said kuya fell while trying to operate the machine and hit his head on the table. I remember arriving at the hospital hours later and there I saw the body of my brother: pale, lifeless and it had cotton balls stuck on his nose to stop the blood from flowing out. When we arrived at the funeral home, I remembered sleeping while waiting for the coffin with my kuya’s body. And when it finally arrived, that was only the time that I started crying. I would never forget that moment: my father, my sister, my mother and I standing beside the coffin, looking at my kuya’s body and crying. That experience is a blur to me because I was still a kid. And everytime people would recall the story of my brother’s death, they would say that one moment I was crying so hard and then after a few minutes, I was playing and laughing. A kid is a kid afterall.

Life went on its course without my brother. Then when I was in second year high-school, my grandfather died. This time, it was different from my brother’s death. He was diagnosed with lung cancer and it was too late to cure him. So we had time to prepare ourselves before he passed away. The first thing I noticed during my grandfather’s wake is that the atmosphere is lighter compared to my brother’s wake. Maybe because my grandfather’s death is not sudden but still, we were extremely sad. It was the second time on less than eight years that a beloved family member died.

Last Thursday after my chemistry class, I received a text message from my cousin saying that our tita just died. This instantly brought tears to my eyes and I instantly called my cousin and I even asked him if he was joking. Of course he was not joking because death is no laughing matter. After a few minutes, I rushed to the funeral home (the same funeral home where my brother and my grandfather’s wake were held) to find my cousin staring blankly at the wall; still shocked on what happened to his mother. We got the same funeral chapel where my grandfather’s wake was held and it was like a replay of all the sad things that happened to our family barely 4 years ago. It was the third time in less than 11 years that a beloved family member died.

Being just 17 years old and having experienced three deaths of a family member, I realized some things. For one, kids do not really understand death or they can not comprehend the full  meaning of death. When I came to the wake yesterday, I found my nephews and nieces running and playing around the funeral chapel like nothing bad happened. When I had the chance to speak with one of my nieces about the death (of her grandmother), her voice didn’t have a hint of sadness and even exclaimed that my tita (her grandmother) was old. Another instance was when my other nephew (about four years old) looked inside the coffin to see his grandmother, he muttered the word “mama” like he used to call her when she was still alive. Was I really like this when my brother died? Innocent to all what’s happening?  Uncaring even? But then again, you can not stop a child from being a child.                          

Another thing I realized must be the saddest thing I’ve realized about death; that everyone will go through the pain of losing a loved one. And that the more people you love, the more times that you are going to feel the pain of losing a loved one. The more you love a person, the more painful it is gonna feel when you lose him. It’s sad, unclear and a little unfair but it is life and life is everything but clear.

The word “death”  has many negative connotations. But we must remember that death is inevitable and it is part of life (rather the end of life). It’s never fun for the living loved ones left but it is a mystery for the one that experienced death. Death is a mystery and it’s very unclear. One moment, a person may be healthy and another, death might just come knocking on his door.