The chronicles of a fantastic life
What follows is the Berso Sa Metro translation of Pablo Neruda’s “Tu Risa” (Your Laughter):
Ipagkait mo na sa akin ang tinapay,
Ang hangin, ang liwanag at ang tagsibol
Huwag lamang ang iyong ngiti
Dahi ito’y aking ikasasawi.
I noticed the poem on my way to Gilmore yesterday (relevant post: “Define Futile.”). This was the first time any of the poems plastered on the carriage walls of the LRT caught my attention.
On the Gilmore-Katipunan LRT ride back, I was stuck in a well-meaning but mean-looking carriage that screamed “Spread the charity virus” in painful red and blue. Can’t charity be poetic, too?
I trooped down to Gilmore today, hoping to buy a pair of Soundmagic PL30s—something I’ve been planning to do for some time now.
On the way to LRT Katipunan it started to drizzle, and I realized I had neither an umbrella nor a jacket with me. By the time I got off the UP-Katips jeep the drizzle had become a torrent, and I had to wait a good five minutes for the rain to abate before walking to the LRT station.
When I got off at Gilmore it was still raining, and I realized two things: the place was far less navigable than I had expected, and I was told I was going to have to walk quite a bit to get to the store that sells the headphones. To top that off, once I got to the station exit, I found myself having to make a snap decision: should I go left or right?
To the right was a corner full of IT stores, and to the left, a few sparsely positioned buildings. I decided my best bet was to go right. Soon I saw a GoGadgets sign in front of a building, so I went in, only to find that there wasn’t a GoGadgets there. I started to panic, plurked for help, and consulted the Maps app on my phone (which wasn’t very helpful). Thankfully, someone responded to my plurk with directions.
I made the wrong decision: the store I wanted was to the left of the station exit. The rain hadn’t stopped as I hoped it would, but nevertheless I walked to Broadway Centrum, crossed the street, and stopped in the building in front of SM Savemore waiting for the rain to at least weaken (it didn’t). As I waited, I looked around, hoping to spot even the slightest sign that I was near where I wanted to be. No luck.
I checked my watch. It was almost 18h. I looked at the sky. More rains. I felt my hair—dripping wet.
I plurked: “Gah, screw this. I’m wet and lost and I’m going home.”
When I got back to UP I stopped by the Shopping Center to get oranges (which I believe to be the magic fruit of healing—not so much because of its Vitamin C content but because it tastes so damn good). When I got to the dorm I took a bath. Then I went online to see a few new responses to my plurk.
Apparently the building in front of Savemore that I sought shelter in was where GoGadgets was.
My confidence in the fact that the Universe loves me continues to grow.
I’m going home for the semestral break on Wednesday. Preparing for the trip is a twofold endeavor.
On the one hand, I’ve been packing my things and cleaning up my room—no small feat considering how messy a person I am.
On the other hand, I’ve been praying really hard and hoping Typhoon Megi (known to the tambays in the kanto as “Juan”) doesn’t throw a monkey wrench in all my plans for the semestral break.
I got a new toy yesterday! I haven’t been able to use it yet, owing to networking problems (screw you, Dilnet!), but once I get a decent Internet connection, the fun will begin. A review—or, more specifically, some thoughts on the product—will be up soon.
I cannot say anything on the issue of reproductive health in the Philippine setting that hasn’t already been said, so I’d rather not add any more noise to the shouting match.
I will, however, espouse my position on the topic once more: I believe that while a thriving population is a priceless resource, a population that is burgeoning beyond control is not. I believe that the Philippines needs a sustainable and government-supported reproductive health program.
The Catholic Church certainly has its own stand, and they are entitled to it. For me, the issue is not so much about the CBCP’s stand on the matter of reproductive health as about how they espouse it.
The CBCP should be saying, “This is our firm stance on reproductive health: we believe that artificial contraception is violative of the sacredness of marriage, and we would like to remind the faithful to use natural contraceptive methods instead.”
Instead, they are saying, “WHROOAAAAR, WE ARE THE HOLY ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH! WE ABSOLUTELY OBJECT TO REPRODUCTIVE HEALTH! YOU HAVE THE OBLIGATION TO LISTEN TO US, AND FIRE AND BRIMSTONE TO YOU IF YOU DON’T! CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE! EXCOMMUNICATION! PHWOOOAR!”
Will you people please sit down and behave yourselves. Your threats of excommunication and civil disobedience are pathetic more than anything else, and are but grim signs of your panic. Be civil participants of society. If our lawmakers should decide to push through with reproductive health, do not raise a fit and cry foul. Accept the fact that you stopped running this country centuries ago, move on, and continue tending to your flock.
Finally, will we please stop using faith-based arguments in the RH debate. Such arguments have no place in crafting laws for a secular democratic country, regardless of whether they make sense. Stop using the terms “morality” and “family values”, as if any one religion or belief has a monopoly on the definition of virtue.
If the CBCP can manage to be respectful for a change, and if we can begin to discuss the merits of reproductive health on the right grounds, we will make much more progress than if we keep bickering and screaming over one another in a perpetual shouting match, while the wail of the baby born to the teenage mother remains drowned in the noise.
I was at Araneta on Sunday, along with almost 21,000 other people, screaming at the top of my lungs and high on school pride as I watched the UAAP Cheerdance Competition. I had been looking forward to the CDC ever since I entered UP in June, thrilled as I was about the stories of the euphoria that rushed through the stands whenever UP’s famed Pep Squad performed.
I even lined up in the University Gymnasium’s parking lot on Tuesday afternoon, not leaving the line even when the rain suddenly decided to pour, but they ran out of tickets to sell before I was even able to get into the gym. (I had also heard about the fabled Cheerdance tickets, which always sold out in one day.) The nice people of Globe Telecom’s Social Media Team had tickets to give out, though, so I ended up watching the cheerdance competition live and for free!
The CDC was my first UAAP experience, and it was shocking. My companions and I walked into the section of the coliseum reserved for UP and found that it was packed to the gills—he General Admission section, especially—so we looked for seats in the neighboring sections. We ended up in a block of chairs sandwiched right between the University of the East and Adamson University. As soon as I sat down, the auditory assault began—snare drums beating incessantly, holy shit, this is wild, I’m going to come out of here deaf, are the Four Horsemen here yet, it’s the freaking end of the world!
Soon, the routines began, and I clapped when I felt it polite to, taunting loudly at every little failure.
Then, it was UP’s turn.
Imagine us, a crowd of six Iskos, dressed in maroon and white, seated in a sea of Adamson blue, with patches of UE Red nearby. The UP crowd roared.
We stood up and yelled. Shouted. Screamed. Broke frontiers in human vocals. UP FIGHT!
At the beginning only we were on our feet, sharing the UP spirit with our comrades two sections over. But when the UP Pep Squad took to the floor and started their routine, everyone else stood up too, and I was quite surprised to notice, when I took my eyes off the performance floor for a few seconds, that everyone else in the arena—from Ateneo to UST—was standing up and shouting, too. Everyone seemed to have decided to throw school pride out the window, at least for five minutes—we were that good. UP Pep did what it does best: electrify a crowd, no matter what color they cheered for. I couldn’t help but turn around, face the sea of Adamson supporters in the seats behind me, and shout defiantly, “UP, BABY!” No one seemed to notice me. All their mouths were agape, and all their eyes were pinned on the nation’s scholars dancing in center court.
The end of UP’s routine was met with a roar that echoed across the building, and that didn’t come from UP alone. Araneta was clearly impressed.
While we waited for the announcement, the snare-beating began again, each school cheering over each other. When UST yelled, ‚”Go, USTE! Go, USTE! Go, USTE!” the UP crowd went with them, even following their trademark hand gesture. Then DLSU screamed “Animo La Salle!”; Ateneo shouted “One Big Fight”!; Adamson said ‚”Push on to win” or whatever. When they were done we went, ‚”U-NIBERSIDAD! NG PILIPINAS!” School pride. My friend Amiel, a Sociology major, would call it “collective effervescence”.
But when it was announced that UST was 2nd runner-up, the atmosphere completely changed, and all the other schools, save for the defending champions FEU, began to yell a familiar chant:
U-NIBERSIDAD! NG PILIPINAS!
I had to laugh. Everyone affirmed what I, and probably everyone else from UP, knew the moment UP Pep finished their routine: we were going to take back the crown that belonged to us.
And so, while the commercials played on TV, a lopsided shouting match broke out in the Big Dome: FEU yapped on about their being tamaraws or whatever, and everyone clapped along politely. Then, when they were done, everyone cleared their throats, UP’s drums started beating, and UP, Ateneo, La Salle, UST, UE, AdU, and NU screamed, with fists shaking at FEU:
UP! UP! UP! UP!
U-NIBERSIDAD! NG PILIPINAS!
And when we were done, FEU waved their yellow handkerchiefs in the air. Save the Tamaraws!
UP! UP! UP! UP!
Other schools’ drums were hit to the beat of UP’s iconic chant.
U-NIBERSIDAD! NG PILIPINAS! MATATAPANG! MATATALINO!
The commercial break was over, and Boom Gonzales opened the envelope and read the results: FEU takes second place.
Any doubt that still remained as to the outcome of the competition evaporated at that instant. And then, even before FEU’s Pep Squad was finished with their photo-ops, the winner was officially announced.
THEY’RE BACK ON TOP—THE UNIVERSITY OF THE PHILIPPINES.
The whole coliseum erupted in jubilation as everyone shared in the victory of UP.
And then, the chant broke out again, and all of Araneta joined: U-NIBERSIDAD! NG PILIPINAS!
After the initial euphoria died down and the stadium cleared a little, UP’s supporters, who were scattered all around the arena, raised fisted right hands—another iconic symbol of the university and its liberal culture.
I’ve said it before: I have seen few sights more breathtaking, more awe-inspiring, than a swarm of maroon and white and proudly raised fists. SCHOOL PRIDE. UP FIGHT. We sang “UP Naming Mahal” our fists shaking in unison as we did. It was one of those moments that really make you feel proud to be called an Iskolar ng Bayan.
“Mabuhay ang pag-asa ng bayan,” we sang. And after that, one more time: U-NIBERSIDAD! NG PILIPINAS! The feeling of being part of UP’s grand, time-tested culture is something I can only give to you in the form of a ticket to the UAAP Cheerdance Competition. (Or a Form 5, but no matter how long you queue or how much money you fork over, you won’t be able to get one.)
I walked away from Araneta with a crumpled “Let’s go, UP!” sign, a newfound respect for my sense of hearing, and a whole new shitload of school pride. UP FIGHT!
* * *
My thanks again to Andre Montejo of Globe Telecom’s Social Media Team for my ticket to the CDC!
The stench of cigarette smoke hung heavily in the air. I took a sip of my latte, trying to fan away the clouds of death as I did. The man with the beautiful raspy voice was singing about green fields and blooming red roses, as the rain poured and the wind howled. Over cigarettes and sips of espresso we talked.
This was the kind of scene I lived for. Rains and coffee make a potent combination for me; the cold and the soothing wisps of slowly rising steam have a way of making you think. The wind continued to blow, and I zipped up my jacket and took a long sip. I want a small paved space in my backyard, I said, surrounded by shrub walls and furnished with a simple wooden table and chair. In the afternoon I could settle down, armed with a fountain pen, and write; in the evening, I would light the gas lamp and go on. If it rained I could bring my notebook, pen, and cup of coffee inside, and continue my writing in a desk by the window, where I would allow the sweet drops of rain pelting on and rolling down the glass to do the arduous task of courting my muse for me.
The music continued, to hell with the raging sky. Shit, the trumpet, it was romantic, it was beautiful, and although I’d spent almost 300 pesos that night, it was bliss.
Love, I said, as the raindrops kept falling, and with them nostalgia. Love’s a bitch.
Did I tell you I find bliss in rain? The water cascading down to the ground, it’s glorious, the way it falls, beautiful, divine. I love the rain.
Rain makes me think of Hemingway. Old man and the sea. Famished fisherman in a rowboat all alone in the open water, with a massive fish he caught that’s still struggling to pull away. It’s an exquisite scene to behold in the theater of your mind, especially at night, when the moon is full and its reflection glowing in the water. I am all alone in the world, as are we all.
I don’t know why I connect rain to sweet, sweet writing, and sweet, sweet writing to Hemingway. He was introduced to me by a mentor, and I fell in love with his writing. Ernest had a gift: no one could say so much as simply as he did.
He shot himself in the head. Probably overburdened by the thought that we’re all going to die someday. You can’t fire me, he must have yelled at the heavens with a raised fist, I quit.
Coffee. The aroma is erotic to the sentimental nose. The assault to your lungs is so full it’s indescribable. Much better than a cigarette. The puffs of smoke continued to billow towards my face. I continued to try to blow them away.
Raspy-voiced man was no longer singing; it was now tender woman, but we continued to drown in the music that I can only describe as harrowingly humanizing—a term no one apart from myself will be able to understand in the context in which I mean it. Harrowingly humanizing. There are certain things in life, such as sips of caramel latte, ceaseless rain, and Hemingway’s style, that are so enchanting that all you can do is close your eyes and let the feeling smother you. They make you feel human, if to be human is to feel.
Favorite movies. I say Notting Hill. Maybe because I haven’t seen enough movies yet to make an informed decision as to which one is the absolute best ever, but Notting Hill is definitely up there. In Bruges is good, too, probably because Bruges is just so damned pretty, like caramel latte and Hemingway.
Katy Perry sang something about men reading Hemingway under the rain. “You’re so gay and you don’t even like boys.” Fuck Katy Perry.
Romance. Romance is silly. Sometimes I think life would be a whole lot better if romance didn’t exist. Granted, it is part of what makes life worth living, but I think it’s more the pain and anguish than the euphoria of raging hormones that makes that so.
One of the things that happens to you when you enter the University of the Philippines in Diliman is that your sense of space-time becomes distorted. The jeepney drivers are the agents of this change. The Ikot jeepney can be filled to the brim, have students tied to the roof and the hood, be so packed it comes close to violating the fundamental laws of matter, and the driver will always say there’s space for two more, “umayos lang tayo sa pagkakaupo,” goddamit, Mister Driver, I would sit more properly if I could, but I don’t even think anyone is seated anymore. Maybe this is why we have the best Physics program in the country: we’re challenging norms, not only in our theories, but in real life.
Another thing that happens is you become given to participating in deep conversations about nothing in particular. You kind of have to wonder whether your thinking has become esoteric beyond belief, or so shallow it’s ridiculous. Everyone in UP is high—on the spirit of enigma. Duuuuude.
Back in the dorm, on the short walk back to my room, there was nothing but silence. The noise of the outside world is what is normal to us, but in utter silence only your thoughts chatter away, and there is nothing noisier than that blaring in your head.
There is only one way I know to shut my mind up: sit Indian-style in front of my laptop and listen to music as I write.
Tuesday marks the day I can officially call myself a college student. Today I bade goodbye to my hometown and hopped on a plane to NAIA, thence on a car to UP Diliman. I spent roughly an hour and a half in Kalayaan, filling out forms and stuff (red tape for the win), pausing every once in a while only to walk to the nearby Shopping Center to buy index cards, papers, envelopes, and whatnot. I will make the necessary payments and have my forms notarized on Monday, but for today I threw all my stuff in my dorm room (basement, baby!) and headed to SM North Edsa to buy things I needed for the dorm.
Kalayaan’s state is deplorable, to be honest. You’re lucky if your locks are broken—at least they’re not missing. The wood on the cabinets is rotting. Vandalism has soiled the walls, although artistically so. All things considered, though, the place is livable, because these days all you really need is electricity, running water, and, most important of all, WiFi. It could be much worse.
Tonight I’m in a hotel in Pasay City. Tomorrow will most likely be spent in MOA, primarily jejebusting but also finishing my pre-school-year shopping. Then in the afternoon or evening, I will go back to Diliman to spend my first night as a Kalayaan dormer.
Above is a picture of everything writing-related that is in my bag. I have many more books at home, and I wanted to bring all of them, but as I was packing I realized that space is scarce and that I’m not keen on the idea of bringing a boxful of dead trees with me to a small dorm room, so this is all I brought:
In less than a week I will leave my hometown to pursue a degree in Journalism at the University of the Philippines in Diliman. As a kind of countdown, I thought I’d take a look back at the past few years of my life throughout the week and connect them to what lies ahead for me. Specifically, I’ll be linking to blog posts or websites that I think are worth pondering on and discussing them briefly.
* * *
“NSPC 2009: Notes From Naga City“, published here on February 25, 2009; “NSPC 2010: The Tagum Invasion“, published here on February 28, 2010.
I have been a campus journalist since the fifth grade in elementary. Ever since I started I have been a feature writer, and thankfully I’ve won several awards in that category, including two at the national level.
In UP Diliman I will be a student of the Department of Journalism of the College of Mass Communication, working under the tutelage of some of the Philippines’ brightest minds in journalism. For someone who has regarded himself as a “budding journalist” for so long, it’s a great honor to be studying at the CMC.
I often think about how lucky I am to be able to pursue my life’s interest. Opportunities like these don’t come to many people, nor do they come often. I will try my best not to make fortune regret knocking on my door.
In less than a week I will leave my hometown to pursue a degree in Journalism at the University of the Philippines in Diliman. As a kind of countdown, I thought I’d take a look back at the past few years of my life throughout the week and connect them to what lies ahead for me. Specifically, I’ll be linking to blog posts or websites that I think are worth pondering on and discussing them briefly.
* * *
“Moryo-Moryo: A Ray Of Hope“, a project I took on along with four of my Junior year classmates that focused on the plight of children who lived near our city’s dumpsite. Despite my deplorable HTML and CSS skills, the project won Best In Community Impact for Smart Schools’ first Doon Po Sa Amin Learning Challenge.
Perhaps the most iconic and enduring symbol of the University of the Philippines is the Oblation—a naked man with arms outstretched, offering himself in service to his country. No less than this attitude of self-sacrifice is expected of all UP students.
The Oblation made me think about when I decided to take on the Moryo-Moryo project. The prospect of winning a cash prize enticed me, of course, but much more than that I welcomed the opportunity to help a worthy cause. Every time we visited the school, we got to see the children whose eyes sparkled with hope despite their dire situation. That really hit me in two ways: it reminded me of how lucky I was to have food to eat, clothes to wear, and a house to come home to everyday, and inspired me to do everything I could to help. I cannot justify with words the fulfilling satisfaction I felt in telling the story of Moryo-Moryo, in working for a cause bigger than me.
It feels good to be part of a community that cares so much about service to country at a time when the Philippines is so overridden by greed and selfishness, in city streets and in corridors of power. I hope I prove myself worthy of the tradition of service to country that UP fosters.
