Think Nike

I've come up with a to-do list. Needless to say, I haven't done anything (thanks to KL for pointing that out). I've added more, and the list is getting longer each day:

1. Take driving lessons.
2. Go to the gym.
3. Buy a bike (and go biking, of course).
4. Play badminton regularly (no, I'm not trying to be in. I just want to lose fat.).
5. Have a decent set of shelves made for my room so I can cram more of my stuff in. More importantly...
6. ...Clean my room!
7. Write a book.
8. Write to Adeline.
9. Undergo diamond peeling.
10. Buy new jeans.

And it goes on.

There are a lot of things I want to do, and not just what's on the list above. I mean with my life in general. But I never get around to doing most of them. It's only recently that I realized why.

I am afraid. I am a person who has been scared most of her life. Scared of failure perhaps.

When I was a child I never cared much about accomplishment or goals, not even academic excellence. I was never grade-conscious. I didn't care about report cards. And my parents didn't force me to care, either. Lucky for me I have good genes and didn't have to work too hard. I found school easy, and I got pretty good grades whether or not I studied.

But as I grew up, there were things that pushed me outside my zone of comfort. Like public speaking or debates. Or even simple voluntary recitation in class, which to my horror was actually necessary in high school and college. It was in these areas that I would sometimes fumble. I was afraid of asserting myself, of having to place myself in a position where I had to defend my stand to everyone. Afraid of letting others know what was in my mind, and risk dissent or conflict. That was scary. I was afraid to go forward and take the leap. I felt that if anything went wrong, I would never have the chance to correct it.

This is, of course, with the exception of a few things. One is writing. Writing for me before was very, very personal. I would never even let anyone else read my poems. But I've changed a lot now in that respect. I have Kule to thank for that. Getting published every two weeks kind of forces you to cast away your fear.

Second, love. I am not afraid to love. If there is one thing I could throw myself into, that's probably it. True, I've been burned, but that's okay. Love is far greater than I or anyone will ever be, and it's no longer a matter of fear; it's an issue of faith. I have faith.

The rest....aaugh.

Come to think of it, I'd probably be a good candidate for that show Starting Over (ETC), the one where a bunch of women live together in one house and fix their pathetic lives. My goal: Overcome my fears and go for it! Be confident! Seize the day! Live like there was no tomorrow! And don't rely on others to fulfill your responsibilities, do it on your own!

Yeah, yeah, yeah. The women in that show are lucky. They get to live in this controlled environment, do "assignments", get help from "life coaches", fulfill their goals and "graduate". That is if they don't get booted out first (happened once to a woman named Kimberlyn. Nobody really liked her from the start. She was..unpleasant to be with). The coaches insist that's it's really a microcosm of life. Trials, drama, friends, er, catfights? And, just as you discover tools for survival in the Starting Over House, so you do the same in the real world.

Na-ah. Nothing ever prepares you for real life. Whatever it is that you do, part of it is all...suntok sa buwan. Doesn't matter if you plan it or not. Planning is just a way to kill time, anyway, until the universe does what it wants to do with you (and yes, I am studying to be a professional planner).

But as my former professor and mentor always used to say, shoot for the moon. If you can't reach it, at least you'll land on one of the stars. Might as well, right? I wonder which one on my list of moons will I shoot for first. Or maybe I should stop wondering and Just Do It, right?

unhooked and in pieces

I should probably be getting my life together. It's been more than a month since my last official job. Although I don't think one can actually call it a job. It's more like an...experience, to put it mildly. Hmm, it's probably more like a slow burn meets action/drama/comedy movie playing in slow motion.

I guess that's part of the problem. This entire experience. This entire year that just passed. I'm not sure if it's too much, too soon, but I guess I just got tired. We all did, in that kind of work. I was so into it at first. Did my job with passion, with so much of my faith and trust. I trusted the people I worked with, trusted my boss and believed in the advocacies we were fighting for.

But, as with everything in politics, nothing is ever what it seems.

Now I didn't come into this blind or stupid. I knew there was something--many things--wrong in that cursed world. But I thought I could do something about it. Me, a 20-year-old fresh graduate. Such lofty ideas in my head. No, I wasn't blind. I was too ambitious for my own good.

At one point I learned that there are many ways of looking at our situation. Sir Alain once told us that, coming from the discipline of behavioral science, he sees it more as a case study. He used a scholarly eye, disinterested, detached. It was effective to an extent. It was a defense mechanism for when you didn't want to or couldn't move too much or couldn't do anything about the shit you find yourself in.

But that tactic, though useful, could only get you so far. And then you start to give in or give up.

I asked Wilford (an officemate and a good friend) once, last November when we were gearing up for the campaign, "Kakayanin ba ng sikmura mo?" He answered yes. I couldn't say the same for myself at that time. I had put in about five months' work into the office already when I asked that question, and yet I still asked.

Alas, kinaya ko. I promised myself, and made Wilford promise that by the end of the campaign, dapat buo pa ang pagkatao namin. That was all I wanted. I wanted to be whole. I wanted to come out of it still alive inside.

I learned a lot. Things I can't really express, can't tell anyone. I guess that's partly why I've been so quiet, why at one point I just abandoned blogging, why lately I've found it so hard to write or talk about things and thoughts and feelings. Even now I don't know if anyone can completely understand what I'm trying to say.

There are at least three reasons why I made it through. Wilford, Julie and Lloyd are those three reasons. We were the "youth team", thrown into the pit right out of college, so-called student leaders, and now strategists, spinners, executioners. We stood together, and fell as one. They will never probably never know the depth of my gratitude, but I will never forget them for the rest of my life. Ten, twenty years from now, we will look at each other and remember that one summer that shook us from our daydreams and changed the course of our lives.

Wilford is back in law school, away from politics and happier than ever. "Ayoko na dun, laglagan dun," he always says. Lloyd is a bum, a satisfied one, apparently. I reckon he will be a mayor someday (I'm sure he got great tips from the past campaign). Julie is in law school, too. Haven't heard from her in a while, but I'm sure she's fine. My brother who's her classmate said someone gave her a bunch of flowers in class recently. Ah, classic Julie.

We all got burned that summer, in varying degrees. We all put ourselves on the line, because we believed in something, or wanted to believe. More than that, we trusted the people who took us there. And we got burned. But we're better now because of it. Reputations stepped on, prejudices thrown our way, ridicule, disbelief, disappointment...these weren't the problems we faced, not really, even though a lot of people outside felt it was their obligation to weigh us down with all of that, like it's their right. But to us, those issues were ridiculously trivial. We knew better. It wasn't that.

The thing is, one cannot stand properly on shaky ground. Especially so if it is made out of lies and deceit. The soil cracks; the person gets disillusioned eventually. And it's not your average growing up my-professor-flunked-me-without-valid-reason-what-happened-to-due-process-and-academic-freedom kind of disillusion. Not even the I-thought-Communism-stood-for-something-great-why-did-they-allow-the-purge type. No, it was worse. I was disillusioned, every single fucking day, starting June 2003. It wasn't an electric shock treatment, not like having a gun to your head. It was more of a slow death. Torture. One minute you're gasping for air, the next it seems like you're being given a way out, a time to scream for help, a chance to walk out and leave. You want to. You think so. Or maybe not. Something pulls you back. Death becomes strangely attractive. You're caught in a spiral; you want out just as much as you want to hold on for dear life, even if it means holding on to death. You're hooked.

That was our battle. It was a battle of wits, of self-control. A war for inner peace in a time of tempest.

It's been more than a month. I've pulled the hooks out of my guts. But I can't walk straight just yet. There's a numbing pain that won't go away. I got out alive, I suppose, but as Wilford asked me shortly after his "role" in that summer experience was clearly defined by our immediate superior, "Pa'no pa ko magiging buo after this? Tangina."

Podium finish!

Two things made my weekend. First, UP won its latest UAAP game yesterday, its fourth consecutive win. YAY! That is amazing. Amazing. I've never been so excited. I never really paid attention to the UAAP, except for the cheerdance competition. But the UP Maroons have finally caught my attention. I hope their winning streak continues. I'll be there in the finals. UP Fight!

Second, Kimi Raikkonen won the Belgian Grand Prix. It's his first time to get the top spot this season. Finally! I have to say it's been a crappy year for McLaren, considering they did so well last year. Kimi has been to the podium only twice this year--the first time in Malaysia, and only in second place. Lots of difficulties. But they got it together this time. Kimi was smashing. He really deserved that win. Aww, my baby looked so cute during the post-race interview, heehee. Okay, before anyone dismisses my fondness for F1 racing as a superficial cute-guy-obsession, I have to make it clear that I do love F1, with or without the hotties. Kimi just makes it sweeter. Okay, Fernando Alonso (Renault), too, sometimes. But I'm forever loyal to the Ice Man.

There are four more GPs to go before the season ends. Michael Schumacher (and Ferrari) will obviously end up champion, but it'll still be exciting. I haven't seen as much F1 as I wanted this year, so I hope I get to watch the remaining races. My biggest wish is to be able to watch it live. There'll be one in Shanghai near the end of Septmeber and in Japan in October. Gosh, I wish someone would send me there. That would be the great birthday gift. That and a laptop.:)

From www.formula1.com:

The Ice Man returneth
Raikkonen halts the Ferrari train with superb win

Michael Schumacher clinches the 2004 title at Spa, but can't beat Kimi Raikkonen to the chequered flag after a highly eventful race.

Belgium has missed Formula One racing for the last two years – and Formula One racing has missed Belgium, too. An action packed Grand Prix showed just how thrilling racing at the Spa-Francorchamps circuit circuit can be.

Raikkonen emerged as victor after a classic Spa race, packed with action from start to finish. As is often the case in Belgium, the race featured a very high rate of attrition, with just 10 runners succeeding in making it to the chequered flag. A first-lap accident, initiated by Mark Webber’s Jaguar, took out no fewer than four runners: Webber himself, Sato, Bruni and Pantano.

Jarno Trulli, who had qualified in P1, dominated the early part of the race – with Michael Schumacher dropping back down the order after a hesitant start. Eventual winner Raikkonen was also involved in a first corner collision with Felipe Massa’s Sauber.

“The car felt really funny and I almost came in because I thought that something had broken at the rear,” he explained at the post-race press conference.

And Rubens Barrichello, who finished the race in third place, also had a coming-together with Webber, resulting in his being called back to the pits to have his rear wing replaced – rejoining in last place, and the safety car being deployed.

The race was packed with further incident, Alonso spinning out of the lead with what appeared to be a mechanical failure dropping oil onto his rear tyres on lap 11. Raikkonen, Montoya, Schumacher and then Pizzonia then took the lead in succession during the first series of pit stops – with Raikkonen emerging in P1 after Pizzonia made his first stop. On Lap 29 Jenson Button crashed out in spectacular style with an apparent rear tyre blow out at over 300 kph, which caused him to crash heavily with the luckless Zsolt Baumgartner – who he was lapping at the time. Fortunately both drivers were unhurt, while the safety car was deployed again for debris to be removed from the track.

Trulli was involved in a collision with Montoya after the Colombian made an overtaking attempt at the Bus Stop chicane, the Renault driver being dropped right down the order as a result. Pizzonia managed to overtake the pair of them as a result, only to later retire from P3 with suspected transmission failure.

And then David Coulthard, who had been battling his way back from last place after an early pitstop, ran into the back of Christian Klien and was forced to limp his way back to the pits minus his front wing and with bits of bodywork stuck to his rear wing - the safety car being deployed yet again - Klien survived to an eventual sixth place finish.

And special mention should be made of Ricardo Zonta, who in his second race drive for the Toyota team fought his way from final place at the start all the way up to fourth – from where he retired with mechanical failure after the final restart of the afternoon.

During all this Raikkonen kept up his dominance at the sharp end, although he lost his 10 second margin over Michael Schumacher after the final safety car period. He drove a calm, controlled race to a well-deserved victory. Schumacher came in second which, with Rubens Barrichello third, gave the German ace the points he needed to take his record-extending seventh Drivers’ Championship.

Barrichello’s third place strengthens his second-place in the Championship. Massa and Fisichella came in fourth and fifth, just reward for Sauber for strong performances all weekend. Coulthard recovered for seventh and Olivier Panis took the final championship point for Toyota.

labo

so they were right. you do have to be be careful what you wish for.

i just realized i was wrong when i said i liked being "slender". because a long time ago, i actually wished i weighed heavier. i remember, people around me were so busy trying to get thin (bernadette gerona, hindi ka mataba!). i, on the other hand, wanted to get fat ("buti ka pa nga may laman e, ako puro buto. sana tumaba na ako.").

well, i got what i wanted. now what?

sigh. the way of the world.

ohmygodiamgettingfat!

I am getting fat.

It's not just that I look fleshier, but I feel it. I feel fat, heavy, big. When I sit down I feel like my butt is all over the place.

I blame it all on the past elections. Haha. Really, I started gaining weight last summer, during the campaign. I just ate. And ate some more. We were holed up in this secret headquarters (our Batcave). We couldn't tell anybody where we were or what we were doing. Nobody knew, except the 30 people in that compact office. We were among ourselves, and apart from work, there was really nothing else but the tv, gossip, text twister and a supermarket around the corner. That's where we went when we wanted to escape the sheer insanity of the campaign and the monotony of a few uneventful afternoons. Food was basically our pastime (smoking, too, but I don't do that). I survived on chips, chocolate, Coke, Yellow Cab, Pizza Hut, 'Di Mark's, Kitaro (mmm, California maki), mais and squidballs, ensaymada, Dunkin Donuts and the ocassional beer, tequila and vodka ice.

And then there were the sorties. Ohmygod. Chowking's siopao (bola-bola) was a staple during the motorcades (it was difficult to break away from the convoy so we had little choice). The advance team kept on throwing siopao and Coke onto the moving van. What else were we to do but eat them? And when got so sick of the sioapao, we would survey the roads we were on and run to the nearest Andok's, buy lechon manok (two whole chickens, chopped of course), run back to the van (we were experts at running and traffic management because of all the motorcades), and eat. With bare hands. Gravy and all.

It was hilarious. And probably uncouth. But it got us through the day. And then, after each sortie, we would be soo exhausted the only thing we wanted to do was sit down, rest, and eat a good meal to relax our spirits and celebrate another successful day.

This went on for the entire summer. And now, months later, I still can't get out of the habit.

Okay, I don't run out of the car and buy Andok's lechon anymore. But I eat. I eat, and I eat a lot. It actually surprises people. It surpises me. I never thought my stomach had the capacity to store so much. And, dear God, I think of food. Something I never really did before.

I guess it's also because I stay home a lot now. I sleep a lot, stay in bed most of the time, munch on whatever food I find. I watch tv, which means a whole lot of cooking programs on the Lifestyle Network (love Molto Mario and Unwrapped).

Eat. Sleep. Go to the kitchen. Eat. Sleep.

The result? I no longer have a flat tummy (I didn't have "abs" but it was pretty darn flat). My hips are soo friggin wide I almost can't fit into my jeans. People say it's okay, at least I've developed "shape". Easy for them to say. I've always been slender, and I liked it that way goddamit.

Aaarrrggh! I'm so paranoid now, I feel like my tummy's getting more bloated everyday. Not that the paranoia changes anything. At midnight I still get the urge to go open the fridge, and my tita looks at me in amazement everytime I ask her if there's anything else to eat, 20 minutes after we've had lunch or dinner.

Shit, somebody help me!

fixed, for now

my blog is half fixed. but i lost the comments option. i really can't do anything about it now. i wrote to blogger already. anyway, it's not as if people will go on commenting about what i wrote. and besides. i'm so f*cking stressed over what my blog looks like, i never get around to writing. daym.


i am so not a techie. it never really bothered me before, but now it just sucks. as i used to say, don't jump if you don't know how to swim. sigh. but then, how else are you going to learn?


by the way, now ko lang nalaman galing pala sa ragnarok yung image sa blogskin ko. ang cutie pala ng characters dun, hehe.

power to pinoy rock!

MR. CLAY
Bamboo

Red sun dawn
Guns are drawn
Skull and bones
Beast of war
Father help me stop this

Rush of blood to the head
Look at you I see red
Start this game
I'll end it
By this hate that you help the world create
I've been sent, now repentI'm the war that comes to you
The plague that follows through

All by myself, I know that I stand here alone
All your lies they feed me
I'm stronger now, stronger now than I was before
There's no way you can hurt me
Move me
Stop me

Talk too much mutherfucker hush
You had your chance to change things
Move in the direction of right
Choose to set the bar
But then you had to pick a fight
So what's daddy done for you lately?
Brought you the throne
Like stealing candy from a baby
Line your pockets in mucho dinero
Paid in full with the blood of the people
So now you got the fires rockin', blood and hate
Then you got the people talking legacy
You will never be forgotten
Your place in history
A black mark in time, a black mark in time


Peace and flowers
Will kill the superpower
The fall of Rome is near
Can't you hear
It's been written, it's been said
The revelations I had read
The signs are here
Those days are over
Walk away from the line
For now is the time

Just got home from UP. It's been raining all day, and I'm glad that I have a good pair of sneakers, which I know now to be an essential part of a commuter's life.

Yep, me, commuter. I have been commuting from Parañaque to Diliman and back for nearly two months now. This is the first time I have actually commuted alone, using public vehicles other than a shuttle (which is basically like a schoolbus; you see the same people everyday) or a cab. Until now, I have never taken a bus alone to anywhere farther than Makati. I hate buses. I don't like going up the stairs of MRT or LRT. I hate EDSA (except the strip between Guadalupe and Buendia where the Yamaha billboard is). I hate commuting.

But here I am, going up and down the hills of Parañaque, crossing Pasig River, passing over the plains of Quezon City on my way to the forests of UP. My gawd, it's like a world away! And I have to do it practically everyday. I'm not a brat. I'm not maarte. I'm just not used to it. One of the reasons why I loved studying in UP Manila was because it was convenient; I pratically grew up in the area and it seemed like my second home, my turf. Moreover, I wasn't raised with the capacity to sit beside total strangers coming and going in dizzying succession, as in a bus. Also, I was taught never to lose consciousness--deliberately or not--anywhere outside of our home, so basically it's torture now whenever I go home from school and stare out the window for two hours like a zombie, fighting off sleep.

There's one consolation, though, to all this misery: I am thoroughly enjoying grad school. In fact, I'm having a blast.

I like my classes. I like my course. We apply the same approach as in my undergrad course so it isn't difficult to comprehend. Plus I like the fact that it's results-oriented. And I like the idea of reading, reading, reading. Hmm, okay, let's just say that I'm not complaining--yet. Oh, and my classmates rock! Don't forget that I always seem suplada to those who don't know me well, but these people are not sacred of me at all. Broke through the glass in an instant. Impressive. My classes are a mish-mash of a people from totally different fields--architects, engineers, sociologists, government workers, even a congressman--and when you put all these in one room, you're gonna have a pretty wacky three hours.

Haha, reading that last paragraph, I sound like such a geek. Oh well, I don't know, I'm just really having fun. Basta, gusto ko siya! I don't care what other people think. People were dubious about my undergrad course, too (soc sci major in area studies, para sa mga hindi nakakaalam), because they didn't know what it was or what it was for. But I loved it. Anyhow, I'm determined to make good of my time here as well. CS, no, US na ito, babeh! Hehe, as if.

At any rate, I guess school more than makes up for all that damned commuting.

Besides, this weekend I'm gonna start taking driving lessons, so it's all good.

lost cause?

I was browsing through blogs a few weeks ago. I chanced upon a blog that belongs to an old colleague. I suppose you could say that we're friends, but there was a time, turbulent and intense, when we found ourselves on opposing sides. It has been years, and I would like to believe that time heals all wounds.

Anyway, there was something in her entry that came as a shock to me. It was a something of an admission. She said she had become what she had never wished herself to be or was afraid of becoming: materialistic. Wound up in the trappings of a worldly existence, so to speak. A consumerist, caught in the world of capitalism, a world she had so strongly denounced back in our college days.

That kind of denouncement was a part of a philosophy that had been, in a way, the brunt of our differences.

No, I did not have a "capitalist mentality" as I assume I was silently accused of at that time, but I was one of those who subscribed to the idea that changing society did not mean a total rejection of present-day realities. I have always believed that activism is never exclusive to those who choose to go to the mountains or listen to Rosas ng Digma. I went to the mall, drank choco frap at Starbucks, hung out at Greenbelt 3. I know that these things are as real as they are fake. I have no illusions. I know the great divide that separates students in their airconditioned rooms from the beggars on the street. I know that even that last sentence is an understatement of the grim realities we are living in.

We, in that institution we so loved, knew this and we all wanted to do something about it, only that we had different means. I considered myself an activist, albeit without all the labels. What I had wanted people to understand then was that we needed to respect each other's beliefs and know the battles each one was waging against our common enemy, and that we are all fighting for the same thing: change.

More than that, I guess I wanted to show them that I can do it; I can change people and society, I can start my own revolution even if I wasn't "gnd". A tiny part of me wanted to prove that I can stand by my convictions even as I threw myself into "the system" because I knew where I stood; I wanted to keep the faith.

I would like to think that for the past year, I have been doing just that.

When I read that entry, I didn't know what to think. I felt weak and nauseated. Half of me wanted to say "Hah, I knew it." To my surprise, however, a greater part of me was, I don't know, disappointed.

I was deluged by a wave of sadness. It was as if I had been fighting for a lost cause. I wanted to tell her her to go on, or rather, go back. I never really wanted to prove her--or those shared her beliefs--wrong, I simply wanted to give life to my own beliefs and let them realize that we could coexist.

I never really realized it until I read her blog, but I had hoped all along that she would continue to do the same thing, and say in the end that she, too, was right.

You see, we were both right. In this kind of battle, our causes are justified by our faith. We were on the same side because we both believed, strongly and with passion.

For what she has become now, she has her reasons. Whatever these may be I am certain that for her they are valid. She has turned her passion toward something else, something that I think has made her truly happy. I daresay she will be even happier in the future. I am glad that things have turned out well for her in the end. That is enough, I guess; I will ask nothing of her nor demand her to wield her old sword again.

As for me, I will go on. I know that I am no longer fighting the old fight; I have new ones to face. I have moved on and I have no regrets. But one thing remains and serves as a reminder of those intense, turbulent days: faith. Stripped of all armor and weapons, beyond all borders and labels, this is the only thing that stands firm and moves us into action. It is unshakable. This is why even the greatest adversaries can stand on the battlefield and look at each other in the eye--not with hatred or vengeance, but with deepest respect. Faith is the personal and universal truth that fuels us all.

Magna est veritas et prevaelebit.

Rebirth

Finally! People, my blog is up! I mean, it's been here for a while, but I haven't written anything, not since I changed blog accounts. I was waiting for a really nice blogskin to come along, until I realized waiting just won't cut it; I actually had to search (haha). After agonizing hours in front of the computer, I finally found one I that like and that depicts perfectly what I want to say.

Anyway, here I am. My blogging powers are a bit rusty, I might say. But I'm so friggin' tired of writing notes and thoughts on scratch papers, only to lose them the next day.

Aah, I do miss writing. I met up with Grace yesterday. She was bored and I was confused, so we sat on the steps outside the School of Urban and Regional Planning and talked. It felt so familiar, and I remembered the good old days, back when we were still in Kule. The Golden Ages. We wrote like there was no tomorrow, thinking--nay, knowing--that our lofty ideals were only inches away.

Things are different now. We've grown up, or are still growing up. All of us searching, wandering. But in that flurry of life, I think we will always have that little place, a safe place where thoughts are sacred and passion is paramount. Where we take a moment to give birth to dreams, carving them into the universe that is waiting for all of our dreams, so it can help us realize them. That moment when dreams are born, that is when we write.