If not in school, where would you rather be?

 If you are not in school, where would you rather be?”

This is what pops out of my head every time I see school-hatred posts. Alright, let’s say that in another dimension, school is not THAT important, again, where would you rather be?

I want answer for this, because I can’t find one myself. Imagine if you learned everything on your own-from your house, from the streets, from the bar, from a battlefield, or from your friend’s house. Even if this becomes possible, it wouldn’t be as fun or as meaningful as being schooled. Your book of life would lack sufficient characters and it would be bland and boring.

A tad bit of everything you need to be equipped with in life- School gives you exactly that. If you have watched the movie “Colombiana,” there’s a scene wherein the protagonist’s uncle was prodding her to go to school because she didn’t want to. She wanted to be a killer. The uncle who’s almost out of patience then demonstrated something that changed her perspective. (No, I’m not saying it, watch the movie, it stars the smoking-hot Zoe Saldana) Her uncle sealed the lesson by saying “If you want to be a killer, you have to learn the basics, you learn the basics there (pointing at the school)”or something like it. Yeah, bad example I know. HAHAHA. But the point is you have to learn the basics to weather the storms in life. School is the pool of basics. You have to be there.

School is the best place to strive for excellence. You won't have too many a chance to display brilliance from other place compared to when you are in school. It is the best place for let downs too. You would see from a pool of learners that we all have our fair share of that. 

I’ve finished school for almost three years now and I feel that the years I spent there are still not enough. I was not a perfect student (tell you more about this in another post) but I value school because I can’t imagine what kind of person I would’ve turned to without it. Without the knowledge I have acquired I would be deprived of tools in manoeuvring my ship. Without working values, I wouldn’t be able to live amicably with the souls and the zombies of the society.

Without my classmates, I won’t discover half the kind of people that walked the Earth. If I wasn’t in school back then, would the introvert me even have the chance to gain friends? Maybe yes. But I won’t have the chance to build a strong relationship with any.

If you have noticed, up until this point I have still not expounded how important school is. I was just enumerating the snippets of education life. I hope you get the point though, my life as a student was just as rough as yours. I’ve been bullied by my classmates and I’ve been power tripped by some mentors too. Twice, I skipped school because I ran out of money.

Through all this, I will choose school over and over again. A big part of who I am is how school molded me. How about you, where would you rather be?

  

The 20th floor button.

Easy. This is not a horror story. hehe

 This is what I should’ve worked on first thing when I set this blog up. This should have been the first entry. This made my hand itch to write again. So here it goes.

If you have noticed, the title I chose is not about the 20^th floor itself, it’s about the elevator button. This is plainly because I haven’t been to that floor myself. (Except that I experience being in the 20^th floor when someone goes in or off the elevator, of course)

 However, I have seen the tenants of the 20^th floor. In fact, I see them every day, I don’t figuratively rub elbows with them but literally, it happens a lot. It’s not the same with other people, but with them, it’s always different.

Our unit is on the 22^nd floor of a beat up, high rise commercial building somewhere in Ortigas, Pasig. There are 33 floors all in all. Most units are occupied by ESL teaching offices, some, probably by other commercial establishments, and one, by a school with very adorable students.

They are the children of the 20^th floor. And they are somewhat different, a little more special. Our society calls them “special children.”

They are very sweet and energetic. They make our (building tenants) elevator rides a little more bearable. (Our elevator is sordid, worn out and unreliable) Some kids sing, some dance; others just goof around and play the elevator guy role sometimes. So cute!

Once while inside the elevator, there was this kid who resembles the famous cartoon character” Shin Chan “. He was slightly pressing his foot onto one of mine while anticipating his father’s reaction.  His father called him off and told him he was misbehaving. The little boy started crying and so his dad pulled him up and into his arms. The little boy started giggling with victory for we fell for his little gag. I giggled a little too. In my peripheral vision, I saw his dad doing the same. The kid smiled at me as if we were long-time friends. I wish we were.

These children have something in them most of us lack. They are sweet, sincere, and they’re very generous in sharing their smiles. I know one personally, He’s 21 years old and he is one of our Church Priest’s assistant. He does his job so well you would think he’s just as mature as the other guys his age. He is also an elementary school principal’s son. During weekdays you can spot him on the school ground playing with kids as if he were just their age. The thing is he just doesn’t just play with them; he looks after the kids and makes sure the herd won’t flee from the fence. I know because my sister studies there.

The next time you bump into one of those cuties anywhere, never forget to smile because more often than not, they will smile back and it will make your day for sure. 

Kids CAN'T tell (LGBT and the media)

With the recent legalization of what were then tagged as taboos, I couldn’t help but look at freedom again as a puppet of chaos alluring and inviting in bright and blinding colors. Everyone has something to say and even kids are brought and/or dragged to events that are unruly and complicated in nature. (Sigh)

God and the bible are already involved so you can say that things are getting pretty serious. It’s summer-hot out there the word “burn” has never been as battered as it is right now.

I adhere to one idea on my part: not everything can be permitted in this world. We can but we’re only inviting speedy obliteration in general. I have this pesky feeling that the world is surely nearing its finish line; I’ve been shaking it off and I think I succeeded in the sense of getting rid of that feeling. From just a feeling it has now evolved into a theory, I hope it stops right here.

I have nothing against people coming out and displaying affection on public but I am bothered by the thought of children audiences who have not developed a good sense of understanding yet. Give them time to learn things. If delicate things are to be accepted, let them (kids) learn the basics first. They need a strong foundation of knowledge, experiences and understanding for them to take it all in.

Please, do not ask them to stand for something they do not fully understand. Do not take them out on the streets to wave flags. If they want to, let them when they’re old enough. Kids can’t tell which is which yet. Kids can’t tell. Yet. Spare them.

Let us not rush things, women waited for a number of years before they were granted privileges and until now they’re still proving their worth.

With the social media being more powerful than ever, everything exposed to the public is on a certain degree a “promotion” to the naïve minds.  I hope that the people behind giant TV networks will care more for the kids than money because it was possible back then. Let kids talk about “kids’ stuff” and let adults have their own thing to chat about.

Promote patience and perseverance. Promote values on top of everything else. 

Hang on, tears

Picked my flats off to brave the gusty dawn

It’s a gift in this road I’m the only spawn

Hurry feet, look, the dam is almost full

In a snap I would look like a total fool

In a daze and I am almost desperate

From my heart please let me separate

My tears and my footsteps are in a race

I won’t tell you the story through my face

Hold on tears, I will just unlock the door

Once inside, you may fall on the floor

Will you be kind enough just to hide with me?

I was hoping that is how it is gonna be

I’ll dress up and you may stop falling all at once

I gave in, and you just had your one chance

I will summon thee once things start to fall apart

Right now, you and I must start to depart. 

I don't like my body.

No, I don’t like my body.

I’m fat. Others (try to) take pride in this, I don’t. I could’ve done better than abusing my body and neglecting it out of glutton and laziness. I’m not shoving this on the faces of those who are just like me. This is just how I feel. There’s nothing to be proud about a body that limits me in so many facets.

No, I’m not into body shaming. However, I strongly believe in the power of true words. I can no longer tie my shoe laces nor clean my toes without feeling like I just did something so arduous. In the past, I could walk at a great distance but now doing so takes so much energy. I’m tied to my bed because moving so much is way too uncomfortable.

I don’t want to get used to this just so I would try to embrace a new bod. I would never embrace a body that kills my potential to its tiniest. I tried to jog for at least an hour sometime this past May but it only lasted for 5 pathetic days. Something happened that took my mornings and since I work from the afternoon and reach home shortly before midnight, I was left dead tired through the day.

I missed jogging. It took me loads of efforts to get up that particular week. My mornings were torn between getting up and staying in heaven once I hear the alarm ring. For a month, I stayed in my heavenly bed and hoped that my dream would stay awake the next day, but it didn’t until one crazy morning. I just got up, washed up, put my sporty clothing on and went off.

It was hard at first, hell; walking alone is already wearing me out. I had labored breathing and I felt like passing out.  I decided it’s best if I start on a slower pace. I expected I’d be exhausted when I reported to the office the same afternoon but what happened was just the exact opposite. That has been my most energetic day in three years! The succeeding days were a breeze. It made me feel alive once again.

It’s been months and I’m a bigger snowball now. Winter just doesn’t stop and I’m lifeless as always. I don’t like my body. I’m going to say it repeatedly because this is a problem and I need to acknowledge it. It’s just like an attitude, you don’t go bragging about how imperfect you are just because you feel that it’s who you are. That’s not what you are. That’s a part of you. No. That’s “THE” part of you that needs improving so don’t get so butt hurt when you hear unpleasant remarks. Alright, you cannot control how you feel so what you can do is not to take it against them. Focus on yourself. Focus.

I cannot buy new clothes because I’m waiting for the time when I’m happiest with my body. This way, I can use those clothes longer and I will have better options. I want to tell you more about the things I can no longer do but this is already turning into a novel so I have to make a conclusion now. Lol.

“We work out not because we hate our bodies; we work out because we love them” – this is the “mantra” of the zumba class I loved watching when I was jogging. It makes so much sense if you think about it. Self love is not always about acceptance. Self love must be tough love if you want to get better.

(A letter for my lazy self) 

Hiling

Sometime in the past decade, I have watched a 1998 Family fanteserye piece by Star Cinema. (I watched it years after it first graced the silver screen) This movie’s title is “Hiling.” (Wish) It touched the stagnant river in my mind and until now the water remains moving, very subtle but yes, moving.

The story is oddly simple but startlingly deep and loaded. It’s about a girl named “Ana” played by the then-so-adorable Camille Prats. She is an ordinary kid with an extraordinary height of sensitivity.  The young girl witnessed as her parents fought regularly. It made her so blue she started to ponder about happiness and human desire.

Her feelings were fuelled by what she saw in their busy streets too. (1990’s: Times when children frequented the streets during daylight and not past midnight) There seemed to be a plague infecting everyone in the community. Everybody cried for something and the girl took it that they, too, were just as miserable as her parents were.

In the depths of her heart a silent wish welled up. She hoped that everyone would have what they want to achieve happiness. On her birthday, she met a stranger who granted this wish. All she had to do was make them say their wishes as she touched them with her palm. Then voila, wish granted.

Ana's grandmother defending Ana from the the blames she was taking

Ana listens to Arnhell's( Ogie Diaz) wish to become a woman

Elwood (Paolo Contis) is troubled with women who hunted him day and night

Things completely transformed from then on. She was like a genie filling up the empty holes in her neighbours lives, or at least she thought before the neighborhood went both crazy and chaotic.

She soon discovered that giving people what they want doesn’t always make them happy. We all have that thinking don’t we? The world is too big a place yet it can never fill the endless desires of its inhabitants. I am confident that even if it can suffice, it will never guarantee us happiness. We are all conditioned to think that what we want is what will make us happy. But if you’ve lived long enough to receive so much from this world, you’d understand why it wouldn’t. At times, what we want can be deceiving and dangerous even if it seemed so good.

That is the first lesson I learned from the story. The second one is the most important for me, personally. It’s the part when the stranger, Gina Pareño told Ana this:

“Malaki kasi ang puso mo kaya madali kang masaktan.” (You have a big heart so you easily get hurt)

 

I think I am like that in a way. I am sensitive and the littlest of things worry me so it’s hard to be happy sometimes. I keep a nonchalant temperament to show that I am brave but every time I see homeless people ,I feel  terrible and I can’t help but feel so blessed; If I feel that my loved ones are in pain, my heart feels so heavy and more often than not it leaves me feeling so stressed out.

I am aching to see people happy, too; If only things are not that complicated.

Perhaps, we cannot be happy all the time. It’s impossible and it shouldn’t be. Life would lose its meaning. We will never grow and we will never come up with solutions to our problems. Being happy all the time is not being happy at all if you’d think about it.

We need failures, disappointments and rejection so our happiness will be at its sweetest. We need absence so we can appreciate presence. We need to stumble so we would learn to brave the road ahead.

We cannot be happy all the time. We cannot turn things around even if we try hard. We cannot always make people happy even if we mean well. Getting what we want doesn't promise a happy heart but understanding "why" will at least leave us less troubled.

I think if we are to keep this in mind, we can look at the dark times as if it’s just the dawn giving birth to the sunrise. This way, life may appear more flawed than ever but it gets a little more exciting and interesting.

Gone

The night has been so wrong

It felt so right for one good song

And as the melody played on

I think of happy days long gone

What was it like, under the light?

If there we stayed, is it alright?

Nobody said a word that night

We all just faded out of sight

Sealed in silence, wired in prayers

We made a vow never to part ways

I used to cling tightly to “Always”

But now it stops after the long chase

One step forward creates the past

Plain and simple, nothing lasts
when moments pass, they turn to dust 

at times I pray the longing stops