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.

 

Yo Flip Boy!

 

I had a hard time with this entry. “What is the word that I wouldn’t want to be associated with,” I asked my brain. My brain maintained its silence for a long time. Then, eureka!

I don’t want to be called FLIP. The Davao Flip.

My Name is Nicko

A few hours ago, I was still thinking of an answer to the question, “What do you believe is true even though you cannot prove it?” I tried so hard, until my brain died. So I decided to watch some television, and my favorite mustached American friend was on, Earl Hickey. In the episode, Earl and his brother, Randy, were tied because Earl’s previous partner in crime, Ralph, just came out of jail. The bottom line is for them to be set free Randy suggested “Try callin’ Karma.” Earl then replies, “It’s Karma, Randy. Not Lassie!” The show “My Name Is Earl” is about Earl Hickey who, after a twist of faith, firmly believes in karma. He has a list of all the things he has done wrong in order to correct them in the hope that his good deed be rewarded. And like Earl, I too believe in karma. And so the answer to the question that killed my brain: I believe in karma even though I cannot prove it.

Katipunan Breeze

 

He is a man of faith. He is a devout follower of the teachings of the greatest teacher, Jesus Christ. He used to be a member of the general congregation of the belief. But he converted into a ministry because of the intercession of a divine scholar; a conversion that was for the better, he says. Ever since, his devotion became more powerful and stronger than it used to be. He is a man of faith, a faith that blossomed at an early age and still growing until today. He is also a man of intellect. He fancies playing a certain strategy board game. A critical thinker, he easily outwits his opponents. He decapitates the enemy’s forces with seeming simple yet deceiving strategies. He is a grandmaster of Checkers, a man of intellect. He is also a man of service. With all heart, he is proud of being a “promdi”. From the cool and sunny island paradise of Catanduanes, he decided to venture to the concrete and polluted shores of Manila in order to help his parents and siblings he left behind. He hoped that the knowledge and expertise he acquired from finishing a 2-year vocational course on Fish Processing could be of use in his adventures in the big city. Sadly, a Mafia-like syndicate bamboozled him. Yet amidst the treachery and deceit, he accidentally bumped with his true love in the form of a perfect Aphrodite. Their love grew, and it produced family. With this new family, he intends to serve and work to his full capacity in order to fulfill to this new family a goal he failed to deliver to his old family. He is also a man of freedom. He enjoys the cool wind on his hair while cruising the streets of his new home on his motorbike. Ultimately, he is a man of passion. He loves his Teacher, his Checkers, his family, and his Harley. He lives to love, and he loves to live. He is Villamor “Billy” Tuason, tricycle driver.

Uhhhhhh…

Ma’am! Can we change the name? We like “Fans ni Frances” better…… hehehe.