Mama, don't cry

I am Rosie Lillian Banaoag. Eight years old. My mother calls me ‘Rose.’ We live in a bungalow house at a humble subdivision in Cagayan de Oro City. Our neighbours here are very nice people. The children are very friendly. I even made friends to a lot of kids around here—Kate, Anne, Geraldine, and many others. Indeed, everyone makes a good neighbour here—here in this little subdivision which is, fortunately or unfortunately, just a few minutes' walk away from the river.

December 17. Saturday. Around 7 o’clock in the morning.

I could hardly move my body. I could hardly open my eyes. But when I finally managed to rise from my lying position, I was petrified by what I saw.

Mud. Thick sheets of mud. All brown and clayish.

Cars. All in a topsy-turvy. All not in good shape.

Furniture and electronic appliances. All covered with mud. All not in good shape.

Trees. All fallen down. Withered. All not in good shape.

Human bodies. All as white as snow. Wounded, scarred. All not in good shape.

I limply started to walk and surveyed the surroundings when I tripped and stumbled upon something. A mound of mud—or more particularly, a mound of a human body thickly covered with mud.

The face was almost unrecognizable because of the dirt and soil that masked the face. The body’s pair of pyjamas was  tattered and ripped at the edges. And even through the thickness of the mud that coated the body, I could still see the  pink, fancy watch fastened on her left wrist. It was a pink Minnie Mouse watch.

I could very much tell that it was a child. A child most likely of the same age as me.

December 16. Yesterday.

My mother was forcefully waking me up. I had no idea why.

“Rose, it’s the first dawn mass of the Misa de Gallo, remember? Are you coming with us or not? You sure don’t want to stain your spotless record.”

As much as I wanted to remain glued on my cozy bed, I also seriously wanted to attend the Misa de Gallo. As in seriously. Yes I am eight but I do not take Misa de Gallo (or Simbang Gabi for others) half-heartedly. They say that once one completes the nine dawn masses, his Christmas wish will be granted. And because I am a kid, I believed. And because I believed, I couldn't afford to miss any one of those nine dawn masses of Misa de Gallo. Also, I have an important wish to make this year.

And so, my family and I gleefully attended the mass at the subdivision chapel.

Morning broke almost unnoticed. Or maybe I was just too excited for our class Christmas Party later? I didn’t know. Then I yawned.

Today, Friday, is the last day of our class for this year. Next week will then be our Christmas break. Just like everyone, I could no longer wait for the break. I was all set for it just like how I was all set for our Christmas Party at school later: my gift for the traditional exchanging-of-gifts; the spaghetti my mother prepared last night for my potluck contribution; my utensils; and most importantly, my pink, lacy dress which my mother bought for me a couple of days ago which I was absolutely head over heels in love with.

Tick.Tock. Tick. Tock.

It was around nine o’clock when our class party started. Few intermission numbers. Children’s games. Christmas Kringle. I gave my gift to Kate and basing from her reaction, she really didn’t expect that it was me who picked her name. I was glad though that it was me. Kate is one of my bestfriends and I love her so much. I gave her a huge baby blue stuffed toy because I know she would like it. She was all-smiles about it as soon as she received it. Then the party was over.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The afternoon passed almost like a blur. Around two o’clock, the sky began to gather some dark clouds telegraphing rain. And minutes later, it started to drizzle. Yes, drizzle.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 

I really didn’t notice when the rain started to pour heavily. I think it was around five o’clock because that was the time I heard the rain noisily hammer on our roof. Meanwhile, inside our house, my mother and I were busy preparing for dinner. It was a daily source of delight to be doing this with my mother. I love her so much and every day I spend with her is a miracle.

Just this year, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. Stage three. This news came like a low blow to the family. An emotional crisis. An unfathomable nightmare.

And this was the reason why I couldn't afford to miss any one of Misa de Gallo’s nine dawn masses. I had to complete it. I had to make that special wish for my mother. 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 

It was already eight-thirty in the evening and the rain still didn’t bother to subside. It was now more violent, more crazy. My father just arrived home. We had dinner together and had a sharing about the day’s whirlwind of events. With the family complete, everything just seemed to be in perfect place. A true reflection of Christmas.

Tick.Tock. Tick. Tock. 

I was now losing track of time. I think it was already ten-thirty but I was still wide awake. I was on my room rummaging through my friends’ gifts to me. Geraldine gave me some cute notebooks that had cartoon prints on them which I immediately piled on a shelf just beside my bed. Anne’s gift was something I expected from her—some fancy gems which she probably took from her collection of sparkling stones and gems. Kate’s was enclosed in a tiny box. When I opened it, a pink Minnie Mouse watch emerged from the box. I instantly tried it on. Perfect fit, and I totally loved it.

By this time, I was already getting annoyed by the blackouts occurring every now and then. By this time, I was still not sleepy especially with what my mother told me about raising signal number 1 in CDO because of Typhoon Sendong.

The pounding rain and the thrashing winds continued on.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 

It was almost twelve. The night seemed to have calmed. I was sleeping in my parents’ bedroom because the lights were out and I was afraid of the dark. I was irked and awakened by the indiscernible screams which seemed to be coming from the neighbourhood. As I adjusted my eyes to the dark, I noticed that my parents were out of bed. The candlelight from the bedside table was also starting to go off.

The panicky screams and shrieks of the people slowly began to be more audible in my ears.

“HEEEEEELP! HEEEEEELP!”

“FLOOD! FLOOD! GET OUT OF YOUR HOUSES NOW!”

“THE WATER IS ALREADY TOO HIGH! QUICKLY MOVE TO SOMEWHERE SAFE!”

I began to be frantic. I darted my eyes to wherever my parents could possibly be. Then, through the poor light coming from the lit candle, I saw my mother--with inexplicable terror spanned across her face--hastily running towards me. In what was like a split-second, she grabbed me in her arms and carried me outside our house. It was too dark outside.

I was already crying and shivering when the water abruptly elevated to a level equal to my mother’s chest. By then, I could feel that my mother was also crying. By then, cries and screams became louder. And by then, even through the total darkness that surrounded us, I somehow saw the dead body of my father wound up in the steel fences of the house next to ours. And I just could not take the sight. I closed my eyes and cried harder.

I wanted to clutch tighter my mother’s arms. But at the same time, I felt like all my energy was being drained. My whole body felt like giving up. My spirit too felt like letting go.

 I fainted.

Christmas isn’t supposed to be like this.

December 17. Around 8 o’clock in the morning.

I could very much tell that it was a child. A child most likely of the same age as me.

But my attention was not towards the mud-packed girl with the pink Minnie Mouse watch. My attention was directed towards a familiar voice coming my way. A familiar woman I so dearly loved: my mother. I wondered why she was now barefooted and why her night gown was now torn and dirtied with so much mud. I also wondered why, as she moved towards me, she kept on scavenging every hillock of mud she passed by. She was hysterical in a way.

I tried  to run towards her. To embrace her. But for some reasons, I couldn't seem to move my feet.

When she finally reached the place where I was standing, she wailed loudly. I didn’t get it. But deep inside me, my mother’s wailing was piercing my very heart. She didn't look at me. Instead, she fixed her mournful gaze at the hillock of mud beside me. At the girl with the pink Minnie Mouse watch.

“Mama, I’m here. Please, listen to me. Why are you so muddied, Mama? Why are you crying?”

But she didn’t seem to hear any word I say. She was now crouched down beside the dead girl’s body and was weeping over it.

“Mama, who is she?”

My mother was now feebly starting to wipe the layering mud from the girl’s face. As she was doing it, I also started wondering why the pink watch looked familiar to me. But I soon dismissed the thought.

“Mama, why didn’t you wake me up? Did we already miss the second Misa de Gallo? Now how can I still wish to make you better, Mama? Let’s go to the church now, maybe we can still catch up with the mass, Mama.”

By this time, I tried  to cry. But my eyes didn’t seem to want to cry.

And by this time, my mother was done cleaning the dead girl’s face. I could now recognize her. I could now clearly recognize her. The events of last night started to flash like ghosts in my mind: the menacing gush of floodwaters, the banging and the scratching sounds of cars, appliances, kitchenwares, and others; the grotesque figure of my father's dead body; my mother's heartbreaking cry. I also saw myself break free from my mother's tight embrace and drift away from her. I saw myself drown underneath the murky water. I saw myself lifeless.

Meanwhile, few streaks of sunlight were now beginning to beam across the sky.

Then, pallidly, I made a quick glance at the corpse's face. At the tattered pair of pyjamas. At the broken Minnie Mouse watch I now clearly remember. At MY dead body! And for what seemed like eternity, I listened to my mother’s cry echo along the cries of the hundreds of mourning people within the city.

“Mama, don’t cry.”

***

My heart goes out to all the victims of typhoon Sendong's devastation last Friday night, December 16, especially in CDO and Iligan City. The feature article above is my personal tribute to all the people who were struck by the disaster. Let us continue praying for each other. :(

  

 

 BECAUSE WE ARE MEN AND WOMEN FOR OTHERS.

Great, just great

You see, when classes started last week, I brought along with me in school a tiny, attention-grabber friend. See that perfectly sculpted pimp on my wide forehead? What a sight! Anyway, some people may think that it's easy for me to carry such burden in my already unsightly face. Well, that's what they think. They may not see me complain or grouch about it verbally, but deep inside, I'm hating myself for it! And for someone like me whose confidence is already critically low, having a friend of this kind--a friend who literally sticks around--becomes a daily tribulation.

What a way to start the new semester! I just hope this friend of mine will serve as my lucky charm as I begin to chart a new semester-- a semester which I expect will be more tormenting than ever before.

Good job myself!

Tada!

Yesterday I got my final grades for this school year's first semester (well, thank mostly to my friend Elaine Marie Ombina for getting my grades on my behalf). So there it is. My final grades. Quite amazing, eh? Me too, I was really amazed with myself. I honestly wasn't expecting that I could ace my Math and English. But as you can see... ha ha ha. And I'm still part of the first honors.

God really works in mysterious ways. Thank You Lord! :)

-amdg

A sepia afternoon in the farm

Perched on our truck, my family, cousins and I hit the road for our farm in Gaboc to deliver some stuff there. And I bet you know what happened next:

Strike a pose.

Jump.

Smile.

Click!

Then the cam's batteries went low. Poor thing. :p

PS: I don't know why I made the pictures sepia. Just felt like doing it. Looks vintage though. lol

Of books and of a Western feel

After hanging out with some of my high school friends in our alma mater today, I thought of revisiting The Library-- a sort of private library in our town owned by a man named Mr. Hooyer. It's actually just a few minutes' walk away from our school. So I went there. Alone.

When I arrived there, I noticed that it actually hasn't changed drastically. The arrangement of the books, furniture and fixtures was pretty much the same as when the last time I saw them. The smell and the feel, still the same. Hmmm. I miss this place. The books. The magazines. The landscape outside. The paintings that ornate the walls. The carpet. The Western ambiance that pervade in the place. Everything!

I swear I could pore over every single book of this library for the rest of my life. :p

PS: Sorry for the low-quality pictures. I used my phone's camera :p

No need to be angry

Those eyes. They really pierce.

So I bought this black angry bird beanie hat today.

And heck--I don't know why.

Maybe for a Halloween party next month?

Squandering much. :p

Of Latin incantations and the Nicene Creed

Today, my family and I attended the mass at "Our Lady, Queen of the Most Holy Rosary" church at Sitio Gaboc, Manolo Fortich. The said mass served as a thanksgiving mass for the church's benefactors. Everything went the usual way except that, well uhm, the entirety of the mass was recited in (aww gaawd) LATIN ! It wasn't actually my first time to hear a mass in straight Latin, but still...

One thing that also caught my attention amid the mass was the recitation of the Nicene Creed. I kinda learned about what Nicene Creed is in one of our RS classes at school. This prayer is a modification of the Apostle's Creed and I never thought that this is still used today. I was just kind of amazed, that's all. :p (The mass booklets consisted of both the English and Latin versions of the Eucharistic rites but as you can see above, it's the English version which I managed to photograph.)

When the mass ended, I was still in a daze. Dazed from all the mind-boggling Latin prayers and utterances. Thank God I still can understand the word Amen which by all means kept me on track of the mass. :p

-amdg

It's okay not to be okay

So while I was doing my random clicking and viewing on Youtube few days ago, I stumbled upon this piece of good music by Jessie J—Who You Are. I watched the song’s music video and at first, I thought it was going to be dull. I was like, ‘Aha! So someone can actually make some scrappy music video by just plainly facing the camcorder. Lemme try this myself and let’s see.’ But as the song continued on and the lyrics started to become clear and comprehendible to my ears, chills started running down my spines. I was then like, ‘Damn! Jessie just did it again.’ And I remembered her previous songs: Price Tag, Nobody’s Perfect, and Who’s Laughing Now. All of which conveyed a certain special message. All of which left a deep impression on me (which I believe is a trademark of a good and beautiful music :p).

So if you’re now feeling low, stressed, defeated, and you think the whole world is closing in on you... that everyone’s sabotaging against you--- take a break. Soothe your soul. Serve your ears with some good music. It’ll help. Somehow. :p

MV link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j2WWrupMBAE

Who You Are

by Jessie J

I stare at my reflection in the mirror:

"Why am I doing this to myself?"

Losing my mind on a tiny error,

I nearly left the real me on the shelf.

No, no, no, no, no...

Chorus:

Don't lose who you are in the blur of the stars!

Seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing,

It's okay not to be okay.

Sometimes it's hard to follow your heart.

Tears don't mean you're losing, everybody's bruising,

Just be true to who you are!

Who you are [x11]

Brushing my hair, do I look perfect?

I forgot what to do to fit the mould, yeah!

The more I try the less it's working, yeah

'Cause everything inside me screams

No, no, no, no, no...

(Chorus)

Yes, no's, egos, fake shows, like BOOM,

Just go and leave me alone!

Real talk, real life, good luck, goodnight,

With a smile, that's my home!

That's my home, no...

No, no, no, no, no...

(Chorus)

“It's okay not to be okay.” Hmmm. Is that a smile I'm seeing on your face right now? Oh yes it is. :))

PS: SEMBREAAAAAK na namo! Bleeehh! XDDDD

Cooking prodigies

Yum yum yum.

Since Junior Master Chef Pinoy Edition aired on Philippine TV, my weekends began to be filled with aromatic smoke-filled kitchen-esque imaginations of myself peeling vegies, grinding spices, boning fishes, chopping, slicing, sauteing... cooking! Well, truth is, I really can't cook. Good thing I'm still capable of imagining! Anyway...

The kids in JMC really amaze me! I mean, I can often hear them utter jargons which are peculiar only for professional chefs. And honestly, even at my age now, I still can't manage to cook an egg properly. But here they are, displaying their cooking prowess and proving each episode that cooking--for them-- is as easy as breathing. * envious * At their tender ages, they already seem to know how to cook every sort of edible things-- from pastries to desserts to foreign dishes to outta-this-world delights! UH-MEY-ZING! Each episode is just so mouthwatering. Each dish they manage to pull off every challenge is just so heavenly to watch! Nakakatakam panuorin. Surely, they do know their stuff.

The following are my bets in JMC:

Bon apetite! :)

Buckling up for this roller-coaster ride

For those of you who are thoughtful enough to ask how I am doing right now or whether or not I’m still alive, good news (assuming that you think it’s good too): I’M STILL ALIVE. And kicking.

Okay. So the last time you heard from me probably was four months ago just before my summer classes began when I decided to make an account of my AY ‘10-‘11 second semester roller coaster ride. I was technically a freshman student then–clueless and terrified. The ride was undoubtedly wild, not to mention, unforgiving. Its ups, downs and loops were nauseating, unpredictable and extreme that it literally shook and threw some of its passengers out of their seats (You’ll get a clearer picture of this when you’re taking up Accountancy. Swear!). Glancing back, I just couldn’t help but be thankful to God that I survived.

Hey, hey. Before things ripen into drama, let me fulfill first my purpose of writing this account–which is basically to make a recap of everything that transpired during the short period of time I was dormant.

***

Scorching tough summer

I originally planned of making a separate account of my summer classes experience but as you may have noticed, it unfortunately did not materialize because of uhm, well, laziness getting the best of me. Anyways, last summer was actually my first summer term here in college. I had Rizal, World Literature, and Applied Chemistry. I was at first flabbergasted of how insanely fast the lessons were covered. Everyday was a marathon of taking up as many chapters or lessons as possible, leaving us by the end of the day perplexed and worn out. Major examinations were held every after two or three weeks and yes, it was tormenting. But, when I finally saw my triple ‘A’ final grade for all the three subjects, boy, I was floating on cloud nine!

Welcoming the freshies

 

ORSEM or Orientation Seminar is a three-day orientation for the freshmen which is usually held a week before the opening of classes. It is an annual university event which started in the year 2008.

Sporting my yellow I ROCK ORSEM ‘11 shirt, I, together with my blockmates, mustered all my courage and confidence as I faced the freshmen last June 1 to 3 for the ORSEM 2011. It was actually unplanned when I enlisted myself to be an ORSEM volunteer. Honestly, I was only swayed to do it because most of my classmates were taking part of it (now that’s a cool volunteer right there! XD). But in the end, I surprisingly found myself enjoying, feeling and rocking the entire colorful event.

Off to the next level

 

Things are much more different now that I’m a second year student. Apart from less-Facebook, more-Face-your-Books policy that I am now setting for myself, here are some of the new things about me and around me which I think are worth sharing:

• I am currently taking eight subjects, namely: Eng. 20, Math 13, BA 1, Econ. 20.1, RS 20, CWTS 1, PE 3 (badminton baby!) and the ever-whatever ACCTNG 4 (Financial Accounting 1, all about assets).
• The university now adopts the M-Th, T-F scheme which means that there are no more lecture classes on Wednesdays (except for some laboratories and PE and NSTP classes).
• Two of my new blockmates are Koreans. I do not know how to spell their names so uhm, let’s just proceed to the next.
• Xavier University has a new president. His name is Fr. Roberto C. Yap, SJ. His hair has a natural bounce and I think he is a great person.
• The university just opened a new college–College of Computer Studies and erected a new building–P41 M Magis Student Complex which looks dashingly gorgeous from the outside.
• And because we’re now sophomores, we are now officially members of JPIA or the Junior Philippine Institute of Accountants, an org for the BSAc students. In fact, JPIA held a couple of weeks ago its JPIA Week culminating program which we had the chance to take part of. It was a night of fun and glam as the Accountancy students competed neck to neck in various competitions, including the Search for Mr. and Ms. JPIA for which our block candidates were Sheena and Leonard. There was also an awarding for the previous semester’s DLs (oh, did I already mention that I was one of them? Wuhahaha)
• I just learned like three weeks ago from my FFP teacher, Mrs. Bobadilla, that my Synthesis Paper in FFP (a subject of mine last year) was actually published in the June issue of the Xavier Magazine (not same as The Crusader). How cool is that? I mean, this is huge deal baby! :P
• Our boarding house is now much more lively because of the boisterous new bunch of freshmen in the house. XD

***

Changes are indeed mushrooming in almost every corner now. What's more is that they happen in almost a split-second. Yesterday I was the anxious freshman, and now I’ve grown to be the more confident sophie. And as constant as these changes are, is the understanding that life must continue on. That the roller-coaster ride is still on. That the ups and downs and loops are still there–unpredictable and extreme. That I'm still gonna keep my grip firm. Still gonna work my butt off. Still gonna buckle up for whatever lies ahead.

(PS: ayha pa nahuman amung midterms. YEEEAAAAHHH!! XDDD)

Bittersweet

It was just last year when I had mine. And today, they had theirs.

And as I watched them march on stage—on white togas and all—I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic about my own high school graduation.

As I watched them receive their diplomas, I remembered how rewarding graduation could be—how the four painstaking years of toil seem to suddenly become so brief.

As I listened to some deliver their speeches, it was like I was hearing again my own voice—the shivering voice of a graduating student who was afraid of what’s waiting ahead of him, but at the same time joyful for reaching such significant moment of his life.

As I watched them swarm around in front of the cameras for their final group pictures, I couldn’t help but miss my high school classmates and schoolmates. Now I realize I should have taken more pictures with them. I shouldn’t have kept the camera on my bag just because I knew that uploading our photos afterwards would be tiresome and a long process. I should have been more patient.

As I looked at the graduates’ proud parents who seemed ready to shout to the world that today their son/daughter is finally graduating from high school, I also wanted to see again the smiles on my parents’ faces—the proud faces of the two great persons who made my high school graduation come into existence.

As I heard them sing their graduation song, I too just couldn’t help but replay in my mind our own graduation song—that song which bespeaks both the happiness of success and the pain of parting.

As I felt the joy emanating from their very souls, my soul too just couldn’t help but rejoice and feel proud of seeing another batch of students who will soon traverse their individual paths towards their dreams.

I know how it feels to finally reap the sweet rewards of your labor.

I know how it feels to finally part ways with your high school friends. It’s painful.

I know it’s frightening to leave your comfort zones. And you think you’re not yet ready.

I know also that it sounds exciting.

The feeling, the mixed emotions— yeah I know it’s overwhelming.

It’s indeed a lot to take in. And it’s bittersweet.

But don’t worry a thing now. Just savor the moment.

Frown and cry because you’ll soon part ways with your friends. It’s normal.

But don’t forget to also smile. Smile because you’ve made it. It was hard-earned, and you deserve it.

Today is your time. Claim it. Cherish it. Live it.

‘Coz a year ago, we had ours. And today, you had yours.

Congratulations MFNHS batch 2011! =)

Second Semester AY 2010-2011: Getting Familiar With The Jurassic Park

[WARNING: This is twice as long as my ordinary post, so if you don't feel like reading it now, then SCREW YOU! **peace!]

WOW! I never thought of this moment that I would be writing an article about my first year in college. Wanna know why? Coz I was not sure, like anyone else, if I would be able to pull through. But well, here I am, savouring the summer’s bliss, lazily facing my laptop’s screen on a broad daylight and rummaging my mind’s reservoir of memories for some unforgettable events that defined my first year in college. Yep, you inferred it right: I just successfully finished the 25% (Or maybe 20%? Coz there are still those summer classes? Well, I’m not good with numbers) of this make-it-or-break-it game called college—a game we’d all agree as simply just a walk in the park... well, a Jurassic park that is!

Since I’ve already written a journal about the first semester (if you’ve been religiously reading my posts, then you’d know), I intend to include in this article only the memorable events of the last half of the school year. And note: this is going to be random.

****

Victory. What else?

The second semester has really brought with it wide array of opportunities that helped highlight the untapped potentials and skills of ACA—skills and expertise that made victory in any competition an easy catch.

With their vintage black-and-white costumes and fatally killer smiles, ACA emerged champion in the PE Night’s Folk Dance Competition flaunting their graceful dancing prowess and synchronization (who wants to laugh? xD). ACA also showed dominance in the Political Science Debate Competition against block ACD which was truly thanks to the gift of gab of Leonard, Kenneth and Reynold. Dan Uriel was also recently proclaimed by JPIA as the Most Outstanding First Year Accountancy student, wherein Kenneth and Janelle settled in second and fifth place respectively. ACA also took the Little Theater by storm with their winning Sadulawit performance which starred Joan and Solomon. The said play was directed by ACA’s brilliant director, Reynold, while the Magis-inspired props that were used for the play were all conceptualized by no less than the always Magis-driven, Honeylynn.

Well, ACA sure is not a slowpoke in everything—even in politics. The landslide victory of Kathleen Rae for SBM Council 2nd Year Representative was a clear proof. However, beyond the victory, what’s important during the universitywide elections was that we were all able to exercise our right to suffrage in the very first year of our stay in college (yey! Ako ang simula ng pagbabago...).

Journey of formation

First Year Formation Program (FFP) is a requisite subject for, guess what, (do you really need to guess?) FIRST YEAR students!!! Yep. And during the 2nd sem, we also had our fair share of FFP experience.

First up, we had our pilgrimage (which slowly turned into an outing) at Guadalupe where we crossed five mountains, trekked a desert, surmounted two oceans and... (okay, I’m fibbing XD)... where we crossed a zigzagging river together with Ma’am Irish and two tour guides. Everyone was so psyched for the pilgrimage that some even bought those locally-made wooden sticks/crutches for three pesos each to aid them in crossing the waters. But there was this some outta-his-mind lad who really wasted all his energy making sure that his precious crutch would not get wet (hey Sol, if you happen to read this, I’m not referring to you! :P). I was honestly clueless of what his problem was. Well, anyway, the real fun kicked off when we were already heading back to our starting point. We did not hike anymore; instead, we buckled up for a crazy murky-water-rafting which got us all so soaked to the skin and haggard. Afterwards, some decided to plunge themselves into the river and play as hard as they could.

Part also of FFP was an activity called Social Exposure (SE). We were all encouraged to drench ourselves to the unfortunate and marginalized segment of society. Well, it’s kinda melodramatic but it was truly a fruitful activity. It made us all aware of how fortunate we are to be able to go to school, to still be able to eat three square meals a day, and to be free to do whatever we desire to do. [My reflection on my SE experience with a beggar was written in a post entitled A defining stroll at Divisoria]

In this subject, we also experienced our first Recollection which was conducted at Manresa. I personally didn’t find the activity memorable because... I don’t know. It was just an ordinary recollection. A lot of talks, plus the gloomy weather that day. But oh well, I still had fun.

I also won’t forget all the Prayer Sessions, Peer Workshops and Masses for Life that we had. Indeed, FFP did not just help us acclimatize with college life; it also helped us grow and experience the holistic formation which XU is all geared up for.

Reminiscing the uhm, uncategorized moments

How would you feel if your parents—or maybe your teachers—disown you? Yeah, I certainly know how that would feel. We’ve become immune to it. You see, our block during the 2nd sem was sort of living an orphan’s life after being handed to different Accounting teachers. No teacher seemed to care for us. No teacher seemed to want to adopt us. We were like a volleyball—tossed to any direction, grabbed and hit by different hands. Yeah, it was irritating. Not to mention, sad.

Next question: how do you read the word ‘cocoa’? Oops, lemme hear ya’ again. What?? Alright, I won’t tell you if that’s correct. But I tell you this: my experience with this word is one not really worth remembering. ‘Cocoa’ has really infuriated me in one of our English sessions. So uhm, you better get going now and search the answer yourself because Ma’am Jen—she’s someone who really values ‘time.’

Still remember Jabelle Labella? That was the textserye created by Solomon in the first semester. Well, the second sem featured a new one which was entitled "TEXT" (a textserye called TEXT, how does that sound? :P) where I got to play the role of Hark (blah blah blah and all!!). This thrilling mystery-packed textserye centered on Kebin (portrayed by Kevin) who enjoyed doing a little killing spree because he was afraid that his friends might reveal the ultimate secret of his life: that he was—try to guess again—gay.

Of etc’s, et al’s and blah-blah’s

There are still many significant things, persons and events I want to include in this piece like our mind-twisting experience with our you-provide-the-adjective (and very cool and humorous and unpredictable) Logic teacher, Mr. Ortiz, and his nosebleed-inducing, sometimes treacherous exams; the hasty completion of our term paper in Filipino; Fr. Jett’s farewell to XU; my whinings over the new ID-swiping system; turning 17 in the fierce jungle of college; the sometimes excessive (and I know, hurtful at times) taunts on Terence’s ‘oinky-ness’ (pardon the scarcity of term) and Solomon’s fishballheadedness; the MWF tribulation of waking up so early for the 7:30 class; Ate Arbie and the new ACA fam members; and et cetera, etc, et al, blah, blah, blah! But as they say, all good things must come to an end! So I guess it's adieu for now! This note is already getting too lengthy for more blah-blah's! XD

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Well, that’s basically it! Second sem is now over. First Year of college is now over. Being the newbie in school is finally over. But let’s face it: the game has barely just begun (for us first year students of course! And by the way, congratulations sa mga mu.graduate na!!). We just narrowly made it through the entrance of this park—this Jurassic park.

And personally, I’m scared of what’s waiting ahead of me. I might get lost or be eaten whole by a gigantic bloodthirsty dinosaur! I might get caught in the middle of a fierce battle between two hatchling dinosaurs! (oh this is getting us nowhere!) Or I might get trapped in a spider’s web or get sucked in a swamp full of snakes! Or maybe... maybe I’ll just have to simply SNAP OUT OF IT! I’m not gonna die there, you know. After all, mang-graduate pa ta sa Accountancy, right? =)

A defining stroll at Divisoria

Who would have thought that even a beggar or “pulubi” who stretches his arm out for people’s alms has his own story to tell? Behind the calloused hands and ragged appearance, who would have thought that he too, ignored and dehumanized most of the time, has his own story to share?

Amidst the hustle and the bustle in the crowded Divisoria of Cagayan de Oro, it’s hard not to notice these unfortunate people who do seem to be out of place: the beggars. Today, it is presumably safe to say that this segment of the population we call “mga pulubi” is almost a common sight in almost every corner of our country – a disheartening fact which only affirms how miserable the state of the Philippines has become.

In connection, for our first Formation Group (FG) Social Exposure activity, our group chose to integrate ourselves to the lives of our neglected “pulubi” brothers, particularly those who dwell in Divisoria. In this activity, I, together with John Ed and Micah, had the chance to stoop and listen to the story of Danilo Fernandez, a 70-year-old pauper who has considered Divisoria his home and shelter for almost a year now.

He had just awoken from his light nap on a concrete bench when we spotted him. His clothes, tattered and dirtied with the pollution around him, were on the same untidy state as his shaggy, uncombed hair. The veins of his body were very pronounced, almost matching the long, untrimmed nails of his hands and feet. It was a poor sight that truly made our hearts weep with pity and sympathy.

As we sat beside him, we were all ears to what he has to share. He did not delve anymore into details but it seemed that he was left abandoned here in Cagayan de Oro by his daughter when they were about to set off back to Luzon (as he is originally from Luzon). From then on, he lost contact with his family and relatives and began a struggle for survival as a street beggar, enduring not only the scorching heat of the day and the night’s icy breeze, but also all the humiliation stoned at him, as any other person tagged as ‘pulubi’ would have to brace up for.

It was hard for him. Knowing that his own family has abandoned him has definitely lowered his spirit. Each day passed without certainty of reaching the next. Each day’s sunset took with melancholy, with the lingering fear of not seeing tomorrow’s dawn. It was indeed a daily cycle of an uneventful life.

But it doesn’t end there. In my part, as a mere listener and observer, I was deeply moved by the one thing he still keeps in his heart: his faith, which was evident in the terse statements he uttered that included God, as tears kept rolling down his saggy cheeks. He has not forgotten God even in such bleak situation he is now in. It is that strong kind of faith that helps anyone to see hope to spring amidst the futility of the circumstances. And it is such faith that makes the poor and the feeble likeKuya Danilo to be rich of God’s love and to be strong against the odds.

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The scanty amount of food (a burger plus a tetra-pack of juice, an apple and an orange) that we gave him served unimportant compared to what we have realized: that we should not judge other people by the preconceived stories our minds unreliably create about them, but instead, by the stories they have to tell when we first lend them our ears... and hearts. :)