the wall

Snob. That is the classic first Impression of me. And for my entire life I have wanted it to be that. It was my shield.

I grew up being bullied because I was an ugly duckling – I was skinny, plain, quiet and had bad teeth. I was bullied because I was poor – my uniform is off white because it’s been handed down to me instead of white like my other classmates; I wear civilian about a month when the school changed our uniform because we cannot afford to buy the new set of uniform right away.

At such a young age I started to build my own wall to separate me from the bad ones, the strong ones, the rich and famous. That wall I kept on building and made sturdy until I don’t recall I have built a wall.

It was sad behind the wall. It was lonely behind the wall. I was alone but I felt safe.

I made myself tough and able to fight for myself. I trained myself to be assertive when I have to and to not let others talk down on me or look down on me. I learned to value myself and I realized I am no less than others.

Even my closest friends would describe me as a snob, intimidating, unfriendly. That’s also the reason how I ended up with only the good ones; friends for keeps because only those with sincerity and pure intent of friendship are the ones who were able to cross the wall.

Snob. It’s how I was perceived by others because that is exactly how I wanted them to see me. In the end, their Impression is real and intended.

photo credit:

http://mclarenwalltowall.com

why I love wave 4

Since time immemorial, I have known and accepted the fact that I am a bad person. Bad in a way that I drive people away from me, stopping them before they even begin to know me in-depth; bad in a way that I am clearly perceived as mean, scheming, antagonistic, purely devilish person whom no one dares to mess with or even sit by in a bench. I have gotten used to sitting alone in a row of empty chairs just because I seem to scare people away. Bad in a way that I put up a concrete wall where I will be untouchable, invulnerable from pain and mockery. Absurdly, I found pleasure from that perception. It gave me dominance over the weak; it gave me authority to assert myself and made me in control of most situations.

Little did I know that I would come to know a bunch of guys who will see the almost-buried goodness that I have inside, some of which I did not even know existed. It made things easier for me to let go of my mask and reveal that part of me which I kept hidden all this time; for fear of being hurt, trampled on and intimidated. Now I realized it does feel good to get compliments sometimes, not just for a job well done but for being the best real person one could ever be. I do hope I was able to touch your lives the way you touched mine.

Viva WAVE 4!!

solid wave 4 batch 2011

When goodbyes become good

We often associate goodbyes and leaving with bitterness and pain. But today I realized you don’t always decide to end things, leave people, a place or anything for the sole reason of hurt nor melancholy. It seems absurd I know, to end things while feeling wonderful in it. Yet we do, sometimes.

Happiness it seemed lately, such a rare commodity and its price remain undefined. In our deepest intent to keep things at a certain state of joy, we opt to hold on to it and leave it at that. The idea of losing it by staying, the threat of being robbed of happiness forces us to preserve it by letting go.

I was looking at recent photos and it felt like it was taken ages ago, I understood why I had to. I finally agreed to myself that happiness resides in our hearts and not on people who causes it. It became clear that distance can be breached, that friendship does not rely on proximity and that love knows no boundaries.

When staying won’t add up to your joy, when enduring wouldn’t mean better days, when keeping up with things threatens a fall – then goodbyes become good.

too late

I waited for what seemed like an eternity for an absolution that almost felt like a bleak chance. I put up for all the mediocrity of every passing day, continued to live despite the melancholic series of events they called life. I let adversities go on till I became numb to its thorns. I contented myself with little laughter from trivial scenarios and considered it immensely humorous. I was convinced that soon I would drown in that void for the rest of time.

My deliverance came when I almost lost hope. It all happened a second before I finally let go of my last straw of optimism. It came to me when I least expected it and when I needed it the most. My gratitude is immeasurable. My joy has such depth that I lost my breath shouting out to express my deepest thanks.

Just as when my world begins to revolve and catch up on its pace, they happened. My savior from blackness became a despicable threat just like a dream that turned into the darkest nightmare. How could things turn up as such? Who would have thought? What now? Too many questions with unacceptable answers. Too many appalling certainties I cannot avoid. What awaits me? Where will it take me? What can I do?

the guest

I am suddenly reminded of home today. I’ve been living in a foreign land for some time now and I have managed to actually convince myself to somehow call it “home”. Although when I think hard on it, I don’t think I can fully embrace it.

Home is where the heart is after all and as long as my family (parents, relatives and friends) remain there, then this place won’t fully be a home for me. Nonetheless, I need to move on so I’m calling it.

Home is a place of Hospitality to the point that it becomes absurd. I am proud of this pertinent characteristic that we (Filipinos) are known for but I do not disagree that it can be ridiculous at times. Let me give you a clear picture of this.

When we have visitors come stay with us even for a night, my parents would offer their own bedroom for the guests to sleep in. If that is not preposterous enough, what if I tell you that my parents also change all the sheets and provide new blankets to go with it? It does not matter whether or not the bed was just made; my parents are still changing the sheets.

If that is not ridiculous enough for you; how about it I tell you that we also take out the unused and really heavy set of plates out for the visitor. Yeah, we do that!

I should mention too that before the visitors even arrive, my mom would make sure that we clean the house inside out. All the forgotten corners of the house are suddenly the most important area that we need to clean. We put away all eye sores around the house that are actually in there forever.

The gist is that visitors are treated as royalty among Filipinos. We give them all the best that we can offer even the ones we cannot afford. However illogical this may sound, that is the Filipino way. However odd it may seem, I am proud to be Filipino.