Four Rolls Down and Counting

This uncertainty is killing me. I don't know when this green slime will completely get out of me but I have to say, I am contributing much to the progression of the tissue company. *boink* I hate this stuff. But I hope I will get over with this soon. *wink* 

Farewell

"Where ever you are right now, ne'er forget I will cherish those times we were together."

I had rich childhood memories stored inside my wee brain, many of which were about my clumsiness and wittiness with our neighbors. I was loved by them, when I was still the only child in the family. It was a good time indeed but being alone did not last long for two years later, I was given a cute little sister which, I remembered, I dragged from the second floor up to the first floor using the long flight of stairs of our house because she will not keep quiet.

Anyway, that is a little out of context. This is what it really is. We had a very kind neighbor, with a simple house made of bamboo standing just across the street. The good wife has a sari-sari store where I used to buy salt, vinegar, and soy sauce. She would then ask me what I wanted then I will run back home to give Nanay what she has requested me to buy. I was just two years old that time. 

At the strike of night, I would slowly make my way out of our house and end up sitting in their bamboo chair to enjoy watching t.v. They would invite me to dinner but I would refuse. Then, the good wife will start to comb my hair while I eat some peanuts from the lamiseta. I was just a little kid that time and feeling shy was never in my vocabulary since they are already considered as a part of my childhood existence. 

The moment my mother ailed about her stomach, all because my little sister is coming out any minute, I was asked to run to their house and tell Tatay to get a midwife. He was watching a basketball game that time and he has to fetch the midwife quick before it's too late. Then, the good wife went with me to our house, fixed a warm bed for my mother, and accompanied us while the midwife hasn't arrived yet.

This good wife has helped us in many ways and has been my make-believe grandmother who had been very kind to me. Now, I have to sadly say, she's gone for good, and I haven't even visited her since the day I said farewell to her and her family because we have to transfer to another residence. She told me to visit her every time and not to forget her. But I was just a little kid who forgot that petty promise I made with her. 

A few days ago, I realized from my father that she has died because of cervical cancer, if I am not mistaken. My father kept on inviting me to visit the wake and my want to go was also sincere but considering the things that I have to do and study, I have estimated that my time would not be enough. However, I have finally made up my decision to visit her, perhaps two or three days from now. 

I am saddened with what happened because it is a painful loss to her family. And that includes me. 

I extend my heartfelt condolences to your family, and though you cannot read this blog post, I made this one for you, my dear Auntie Lilia. Save the spooks for Halloween. 

Get Lost...and Try Finding Home

The criterion: We will ask no one about how to get to SM. We have to do it on our own.


Escape was in our hands that time. All we needed to do was wait for the organizers outside the dormitory to leave the place so that we can also get out of where we were hiding. They're gone for good and we started making our way out of the vicinity of the dormitory. We explored the corridors, expecting that we will find the right passage to the gate of the university. It took us some time to find it but at least we were able to do it without asking anyone.

We then found ourselves outside, waiting for a taxi to come our way. Imagine how confusion heated up when we did not know the exact location on where to hail for a ride. We might not be entertained by drivers or worse, be reprimanded because of our ignorance. Fortunately, a taxi came and brought us to SM, which we considered the base in looking for a nearby hotel. We paid our fare which amounted to a shocking 70 pesos for only the two of us and then decided to start asking people around, using the Tagalog language. Mas mahirap kasi mag-Hiligaynon lalo na kapag di ka comportable sa dayalekt.

We asked quite a lot of guards and commoners, some of which did not even know what we were talking about. Were we that strange? Anyway, we finally found one. But it was not an easy find, if that was what you thought. We made several walks, turns, curves, stops, queries, and hesitations before finding what we were supposed to find - a hotel.

We have to go home, we decided. It was nearing twilight and relinquishing the venue because of boredom wasn't so justifiable. Unfortunately, the taxi drivers were very choosy that time because they said that the traffic is heavy near La Salle. We came up to no choice but hail a mini-jeep. Guess how much we paid for the fare? Only one big Rizal and two small ones. That was where we realized how deceived we were. Imagine the difference of 58 pesos.

Anyway, it was fun. All the way, Ate Marga and I were laughing about how clever we were in finding a good room for the rest of our folks in the middle of a strange land filled with martians and busy thoroughfares.

That trek was well kept in my hippocampus, thanks to Maria "Mary" Margarita "Marga" Narvasa. Makadto ta sa Bacolod kag mawala na man. Nami man gali noh? :) 

Have Your Ballpen At All Times

I might as well could have cried because of recklessly forgetting one important thing in the girl's quarters. I am not like that, though. I just watched them silently as I tried to make a draft of my own in my head. 

He drew several cool stuffs from a giant paper bag as he talked about the lecture. What amused me most was the green built-in planner and diary. I was determined to have that at all cause, if and only if I have that one thing so necessary to scribble texts into the paper. Unfortunately, I did not secure one in my bag and the organizers was not able to provide us--late people--with the kit, complete with a ballpen, a notebook, a copy of their latest issue of the magazine and three various issues of their school papers. I was supposed to get excited since it would be a beautiful remembrance and reference back home but it arrived hours after the workshop. 

It was a chance taken for granted. The offer was that the speaker, in the name of Joaquin Henson, a famed national sports columnist of the Philippine Star and a commentator of the PBA games, would give freebies as well as choose the top ten best sports write-ups to be placed in one of the columns of the PhilStar paper. The excerpts of their work will appear nationwide with their names on it. What an opportunity!

But as what I have said, that did not happen to me. It came as quick as it faded. I was left without a choice but to look at the rest of the busy students brainstorming and spilling their hearts out in a piece of paper worth a hundred words. 

I was not so upset though, for after a few minutes, the speaker was able to announce his choice. Two of my comrades got the sixth and the second place, winning a PBA shirt and an authentic cap, respectively. It was a sheer delight that brought me priding my publication and the school we are representing. Although I got irritated of someone who kept on bragging his win, I still commend him and the rest of the winners. 

Lesson learned? Have your ballpen at all times.