Iskul Bukol

In a few weeks' time, I'd be off to low. You know, school stuff. I need to take care of my requirements for graduation. I have a lot; It's my fault that I didn't make the necessary arrangements prior to this.

For the mean time, I would have Timed Future Posts -- a series of blog posts that I made on my previous Bloggers, Wordpresses, Tumblr, LiveJournal, Freindster Blog and Tabulas -- all about random school stuff to remind me of the different things and sacrifices that I have gone past for the last 5 years.

It is boring (like, I KNOW!) but it is just some sort of retrospection. It comprises part of the happiest years of my life and I hope that if someone reads it, they will learn something about me, at the least, if not about life and priceless school lessons.

The Man I Became

Inadvertently, I was beating the bass drum with the drumstick. He beckoned me so I can take glimpse of the sliding motion with the stick's head. Having two drum sets in the house is technically noisy and incommodious. He was sweating, he asked my youngest sibling to fetch a towel while still making invisible half-notes in the air. My father never had a proper music class training but I admire how he learned to write notes for his drum rips.

"Okay, ganito yan Joe, lalagyan mo ng friction para magawa mo yung tunog pero bago ka mag-half note itatas mo na yung stick kasi nagva-vibrate pa yung string sa baba, kaya may tunog pa rin. Subukan mo," then he would beat my stick so I could tap out just in time. "Yon! Nakuha mo, sige ulitin mo yan hanggang mag-chorus, tapos 'yung dalawang tom tapos yung cymbals sa kanan."

He is a perfectionist. He should be, after working for almost ten bands in more than twenty years. Being the only son, he wanted me to follow his track. I needed to learn how to play the violin, piano, drums, saxophone, lead and bass guitars.

A consequence of his job is to be abroad most of the time. According to my Psychology professor, the absence of an older male figure in a boy's early years paves way to the boy's attraction to other boys. Attention was pivotal to gender accountability. This is how I became. It was, probably, because of him.

I never deprive him of the right to be lauded, though. He is my greatest music mentor. He worked for us to live decently. He never lacked for our provisions. He is the best man that I know. To me, he is the greatest drummer. He is the second best provider, next to Him. He is my father.

We barely speak for the past years. Maybe, because I don't know what else to say whether on the phone or at home. We were never tie-close. In the course of time maybe he too, noticed that I was dodging conversations with him. To me there was little to talk about.  I always admire those cool father-son relationships I see on TV, wishing I also have that to brag. I always had hope that we will reach a point when both of us will engage in a conversation not relating to music or school, to give us a tighter bond. He is getting older and so am I. But these never materialized. There are what-ifs.

There are a few ocassions wherein I could have told him this but there is a brevity in the courage of my tongue to release the words. Words which might have been the only thing that he needs to hear to weaken our differences, if not erase them:.

I love you, Pa.

The Last First Day Anxiety

After nine semesters and one summer session in college, tomorrow, I will finally face my last first day under graduation.

I will, for the last time, be going from Ortigas to the other end of Edsa for me to get to school. I will, for the last time, curse my alarm for betraying me. I will, for the last time, take the long path to the Engineering building with great stress. I will, for the last time, treat the library as a refuge should lazy afternoons come. I will, for the last time, swipe my ID card or try bailing on the security guard in cases I'd forget it. I will, for the last time, eat in a school canteen. I will, for the last time, write down notes for the benefit of exams. I will, for the last time, feel anxious about knowing new faces and be eaten alive by the greatness of what is ahead of me.

I still remember, though not vividly, my first day in college. I was brimming with confidence. I knew that I was smarter than any other student in that classroom. I may have failed UPCAT but I passed ACET with great grades. In that UPCAT vs ACET thing, they say ACET is harder. I had that fact sitting side-by-side my technical pencil, T-square, tracing tube, Algebra and Trigonometry textbooks, and what-not.

The first exams came. The professor calls the names from the person who got the highest score and so on. "Mr. Joe Green Breaker?" the fat professor asked. I stood with eyes transfixed on the paper she was holding, and neck up tight. I was proud of myself. The professor said, "You are the second one, in fifteen years, who got my first exam for Algebra perfectly." The classroom gave out small gasps and I got furtive looks. The professor tapped me in the right shoulder. "We need members for the Math Geeks, I would love to see your face in the tambayan later."

As sudden as that, I would be called Einstein when I pass the lobby and the corridors. I'd hear people whispering. I'm a celebrity. No, not yet. Until we get the scores from Trigonometry, English, and Chemistry. I never knew such a position; I was never the best in high school. I was always behind the shadows of my brighter classmates.

Four years later, I gained a cool group of friends. The prettiest lady in my course, the richest, the other cool geeks, the best DotA players. We boded well. It was a bullying group. I enjoyed the position.

Later, I knew how to skip classes. Play billiards, computer games, drink just before a major exam, flirt with anyone who would show equal attention. Vegan spirit consumed me. I had to pull myself together before all that I was investing on were gone.

And the tragedy came. I was struck with psychological distress after knowing that my grades suffered. I was so depressed. I did not eat for two days. I never left my room. I disconnected myself from my friends. I cursed myself for it was me who brought myself into that situation. I was not supposed to blame anyone else.

Two semesters ago, and I'm back on track. Unfortunately, the Latin Honor which I was aiming is now far from my grasp. I cursed the high grade requirement for the lowest Latin Honor Cum Laude, 1.41-1.60. Even if I get all straight A+s I ill be 0.04 points short. YES! LIFE SUCKS! 1.64. Fuck.

Even if I shoot trajectories of efficient projectiles, I will still be an asymptote to the Honor: so close, yet, repelling.

I will forever regret my extravagance. The times when I should have done projectiles in my Physics class and not on anyone's bed, a different one every night. The times when I became the prodigal Math geek. The times when I slept on my final exams in Integral Calculus, Differential Equations and Electronics 1.

The most that I can do now is enjoy my tenth and last semester. Those bitter moments will be a scar of remembrance. I learned a lot from those experiences. They were humbling and life-changing. As look back, I saw how Joe came past transitioning from a self-satisfying brat to a concerned and mature individual. I believe, All Is Well That Ends Well. I will end this semester wearing the black academic regalia with an orange lace -- proud and with an insurmountable amount of gladness in my heart. This is because, I have successfully got through the highest highs and the lowest lows of college. College made me a better person. College will contain my greatest social treasures. It will always be worth a walk back.

Get a life, Please!

"I'm proud in tweeting with one of my dialects; I can't honestly see a reason to be ashamed of it. I'd rather be ashamed to dictate another."

-- I would have replied this if I was on his level. But to be honest, I'm not and I will never reach that low.



I won't get that infuriated haven't I seen a tweet exactly above my last reply. We were in the middle of a good conversation -- I and Claudiopoi -- when he suddenly posted a tweet to get to my nerves.

It was racism at its radical. I got a screenshot to prove that it really happened but I'm still thinking if I should post it. Oh well. As my friend said in a DM, "...wag mo nalang pansinin. hindi naman nila ikakaganda ang mga rants nila eh. hehe :)".You know what, tama si friend eh! Haha.

Okay. I just needed that breath of fresh air. Bukas makakalimutan ko rin yun. (Kagabi pa dapat ipupublish to kaya ngayon natatawa na lang ako.)

The thing here is the most pressing concern of judgmentalism in our society. Whether we admit it or not, we still possess biases and there is still the idea of the superior versus the inferior. 

Kahit ako, pag may nakikita ako sa daan na (okay, this is just an example, hindi ito general sa aming mga Bisaya) construction worker na magpipilit mag-Tagalog pero evident naman na silang pareho ng kausap niya eh Bisaya, napapaisip ako na bakit hindi na lang sila mag-Tagalog para maipakita ng mas mabilis ang gusto nilang sabihin? May accent pa. Matatawa na lang ako.

Okay. Dahil sa wala na akong trace ng pagbi-Bisaya sa Tagalog ko, hindi ko kinakaya-kaya ang mga taong ito. Pero, kita mo: Kahit ako na nga na kababayan sila, eh may hindi magandang sinasabi sa kanila, ano pa kaya ang ibang tao? Kuha mo?

Isa pang halimbawa. Minsan I try to think na wala na ang apartheid spirit dahil dito nag-ugat ang mga malulupit na uri ng rasismo. Pero kung minsan nga pag nakakakita ako ng maiitim na tao sa TV, may mga negative thoughts agad na pumapasok. Unsolicited. Bigla ko na lang maiisip. Paano pa kaya kung nasa bansang Amerika ako, at hindi kasing lawak ang pananaw ko ng mga bumoto kay pareng Obama? Siguro mas malala pa dun.

Marunong ako ng salitang Aleman, German in English. Nung mga unang araw ko sa PR, pang-international ako 'teh, may nag-message sa akin na Aleman. Sabi niya, magmeet daw kami sa Germany. Susko, ang bata ko pa nun no! Tsaka wala pa akong pera at visa. Sinabi ko yun sa kanya. Sabi niya sa akin, (translated to English) maybe because of your color. Ok gow.

Judgmentalism is equal to colonial mentality. There is no progress in these methods of reckoning, nor is there good. By promoting these destructive criticisms, there is always false competition and passionate dislike together with meddling. If we allot our spare time in these rubbish, we could almost calculate the earnings that we could have owned had we used our time efficiently. Had we made the constructive critiques, it would have encouraged optimistic changes, giving path to advancement. Sufferings would not be alleviated in this condition, dwelling in negativity will escalate it.

To that person: If you got nothing to do, have a hobby. Engage yourself in worthwhile activities which will make your time well spent. Enroll in a gym session. Better yet try studying other languages: Medical surveys say that the more linguistics a person knows, the more it widens the avenues of the neurons which WILL actually make you brighter and smarter! If the mind is ruled with pessimistic ideas, it will show in your appearance, I bet you my billion gold coins in Pet Society. Chillax. Smile. Ok gow.

For The Greater Good

A noble cause can never be defeated. It was an excursion from one my college organizations which allowed me to rekindle my slumbered talents for growing plants. As a kid, I remember that I unusually spent more hours in our backyard, either weeding, cultivating soil or planting vegetables. It was by passion that I almost wanted to pursue a career on farming.

Unexpectedly, the trip which was supposed to be all about obtaining seedlings, was sidetracked by something more meaningful.

The valleys of Agawkauin is located between two low-component towns in a northern Luzon province. Being in such state, the government can only apportion one elementary school for each of these towns. The fact bumped my humanity and I asked myself, is this true? In my current city, there is at least one elementary school per baranggay. But in the case of these towns, what will happen to the students who live on borders? How long will they need to travel to reach their schools? What other sacrifices would they have to make in order to learn lessons every day for the next schoolyears until they graduate? Will it be possible for them to resume to high school or even college? Only those that I cannot speak of.

I, together with a group, extended the tour on purpose. There was a longing deep inside me, that I should do something about this. A minute, incomparable measure as compared to NGO/governmental works this could be but there was a pull. I felt like, I belong, that comparing it to my previous experiences, it is miles from similar but the problem is present and cannot be denied.

On the first day of the extension, I interviewed the youth from the borders. I had the journalistic spirit of documenting the stuff but I felt that it will just overrate if not sensationalize my cause. I asked them the routines that they had to overcome in each and every weekday.

Apparently, what I imagined was true. They need to walk for almost four kilometers every day, one way. If it was concrete that they were stepping on, it would have been easy. But the slopes, muddy roads, rivers, and foresty trails gave me unsolicited goosebumps and my heart was melted with awe. These children valued education that much. I could not help but place my younger self beside these children: no, with modesty I can say that I never became bulakbol though the effort that I placed on studying was not that high, and cannot par with even 1 kilometer of walk from that place to the school were those kids go.

Reaching Manila. I realized that if a proposal of a school construction near the borders of these towns will equate to additional government cost, so will the dedication of teachers to be assigned here be a question. Not that I have negative thoughts on our educators, but at this generation there will always be pessimists and I myself can't play this big of a hero.

By the time that I get my license as a professional, I wish to set up a foundation which will focus on giving small reliefs to these children who give a great effort to get themselves educated. This of course will become possible with the help of my friends who saw the poor situation first-hand.

That could be a way of escaping taxes but I was just inspired of what I saw earlier in the ABS-CBN NCA Special Report. There were a group of guys who gave help to students in Zamboanga by gaining funds through an online advocacy. In that little help, hundreds of school children benefited and it is a heartwarming sight to see hardwork at its finest under the most crude situations.

I hope to be of little help, too. Soon.

Bucket List

Remember the movie Bucket List? Some background here.

This post is not very timely (please, masamang damo ako, matagal pa akong mamamatay) but I made this because I knew a friend's friend na may taning na at a young age. Well, it is sad news indeed. I cannot believe kasi he's young, on the early twenties.

I formulated this list since Sunday and I haven't added up anything yet. The list of the things that I'd want to accomplish before I leave this earth.

• ice skate in Antarctica
• witness the Aurora Borealis/ Aurora Australis
• cross the Atlantic with a Carnival cruise ship
• sky dive
• to finish an autobiography
• climb Mt. Apo's peak
• shop at Beverly Hills
• dine in executive restaurants in Spain, France and Italy
• have a blonde fling
• to play a song with the accompaniment of the golden harp
• touch the surface of the Mona Lisa
• take a picture of me in front of an Arabic palace (which is impossible)
• to pilot an Air Force plane
• go to the tombs of Shakespeare, Aristotle, William Marrion Branham and Albert Einstein
• see at least one of the 7 wonders of the Ancient World
• take the trans-Siberian train
• meet Jennifer Garner
• play the piano with Yiruma
• have a son
• try the wonders of Accupuncture
• watch an Olympic or a World Cup game.
• cross a portion of the Bermuda Triangle
• drive a Pagani or Ferrari at racing speed
• eat the most expensive chocolate or drink the most expensive red wine.
• stay for three days in the Presidential suite of Dusit Thani Hotel in Pattaya, Thailand
• spend a day at the Harry Potter Theme Park

I might add up some things pag may naisip pa ako.

Long Time, Mom

I can't write anything to my Mama but I think I will be able to write anything about and for her.

PreScript: This is long. But this is for my mom. I don't wan't to set a limit for her.

I remember when I was four to five years young, my Mama and Papa used to work abroad, though not together. Mama went to Japan and Papa went to the Diego Garcia, one of the British Territories in the Atlantic. My mom was a singer. She works in a lounge and sings Japanese songs with a band. My dad is in a band too; he gives beat to the drums.

Even if you say I'm too young to possibly remember it, but I know I was crying hard when my mom left. Probably harder as compared to when my dad left. I guess it is because I'm used with dad leaving (even up to now).

I was six when mom came back. I think my parents had an agreement at that time to have only one of them working. From then on, it is my mom who tends to us. Papa comes home every six months or worst, in every two years.

This is the reason why I'm more of my mother's son than my dad's. I tell almost everything to my mom. I wanted her to know that I am trusting her and that I'm going to grow up as the son she had always wanted.

Being eldest in the family, its hard to set aside your responsibilities over your desires because your parents always looks at your faults and gives you a hard time if you can't live up to their expectations, if you can't follow whatever they have to tell you. Everyday is a training to being a Team Leader. Everyday, you get punishments like a Commander from the General whenever you break orders. You are always expected to be better than a babysitter when it comes to working with your siblings.

This is not a rant. But its more of giving my mom all credits because she made me into a good Team Leader, Commander and Babysitter, perhaps we could also include Housekeeper, Chef, and Butler. *LOL*

There were a lot of times when my mom and I had misunderstandings. The worst of them was when I was in high school. I did something to my neighbor which pissed my mom off. What she did was to talk it over between me, the concerned neighbor, and my neighbor's mom. I was so much of a rebel at that time, that I didn't care less of what I had to say. She slapped me in front of my neighbor's family because of that. Feeling humiliated, I ran away cursing her on my mind. Later, I knew that I was so wrong. When we got home, she cried and hugged me and said sorry in innumerable times, told me to never do it again and if it hurts me, it hurts her tenfold.

We never learn our lessons once, and in the later years there have been more instances of me and my mom fighting, either because I don't get what I want which I'm sure I deserved, or because she doesn't get what she wants which she thinks is good for her. I bet in their point of view, its the other way around.

As I figure it out, my being busy and her being workaholic brought about, somehow, an enstangement of feelings. When we eat dinner, we seldom talk and I always tend to get water or something when she starts asking things. There were times when I get home late just not to intersect with her late uwian time, to avoid either her afterwork rant or paglalambing. I go to school early so we won't have excuse to talk during the morning. I don't text her except if there is something important that I need to tell her. Whenever we stroll, I always make sure my iPod is with me so I can always get away from a conversation. I answer back everytime I 'think' I have the more right explanation.

But, I also realized, that I was much of an insensitive son which grows deeper to an insensitive man. Naaawa ako pag nakikita ko siya from work. She works 8 days a week which is if you sum up all the unpaid overtime and after work transactions. She doesn't even have time for herself. She comes home late and wakes up early for the next day. She can't treat herself unless all of our needs are fulfilled. As I think of it, all that she wanted was just make our lives easier yet, ganito ang ginagawa ko sa kanya.

Sometimes, when I'm on emo-mode, I think about the things that I should have told her. Of the secrets that had branched into more complex twigs of lies and false pretense. Of the times when I could have helped but I worsened the situation. Of the times when I refused to follow even if I knew she was right. Of the should-haves which could have been one step closer to a renewal: I hate myself that I screw as a son.

However, I still believe that it resolves to the proverb All Is Well That Ends Well. I regret the times that I did not tell her my true feelings. I disgust the lies that I had to tell even if some of them would make her feel better. I hate the moments when I had to follow my wrong self. I just wanted her to know that she is the only woman that is worth my life and that my life would suck without her. I wanted to give her an assurance that I'm always here to back her up and defend her if I need to.

There are a few ocassions wherein I could have told her this but there is a brevity in the courage of my tounge to release the words. Words which might have been the only thing that she needs to hear to weaken our differences, if not erase them:



I love you so much Ma.


*This post came from my old blog and was published 8th of May, 2010. Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers in this Earth.

A 'Timed' Post

Here we are again, being servants of flesh and as such, bound by the limits of Strength and Time. If Eve had not chosen to eat the fruit of wisdom, then we might have not lost our eternity with our immortal bodies and the powers that we are supposed to enjoy. Then we would have not been on chains of Waiting and Patience won't have been an issue.

But it is just another would-have-been.

I would always blame my phone alarm for malfunctioning and as a horrible consequence (yeah, I treat Time with sacred divinity) I get late on my early classes for most of the time. I see this as the greatest flaw to my professionalism: To be ruled out by the Minute-hand on its way clockwise in at least 6 degrees from it's previous position. Lateness to me is a criminal than administrative offense but I commit this with great inconsideration and without self-restraint.

There might have no sundials if the Earth stood still, just like the Great Pyramid in Giza bearing no shadow on any time of the day or day of the year. There might have no sands of time which trickles down the tight-ended funnels of an hourglass if gravity does not exist.

Well, I'm not looking for a proportionality between the Earth's rotation and the acceleration due to gravity, but at a framework on the elements of which are created. Time is just as essential.

Sometimes, we try to seek respect but we don't even respect the ability of other people to compromise with us. And on most of the 'sometimes', this comes in as early as the first impression of arriving on time. We try to care about several other physical matters when values and manners are the things intelligent people use to measure other people on the basis of personality.

I believe that if I introspect further, I will see that I never became a late person, nor was I judgmental. Not until I knew people who defied all my rules on values. But this time of silence is a chance for me to recreate my lost firmness. I must not let anything tarnish the ideas of palabra de honor and earliness. I must not be a flaw to my parents' and education's admonitions and I will certainly not be a disgrace to the people who believe and trust in me.

Time is a precious resource and we all have the responsibility to carry this over -- properly and wisely.