A Message... To the Future

We will all be visiting on Saturday (June 1, 2013). All of us who are one year removed from love, from passion, from our [temporary] family. There are too many of us who wish to speak, but if I could (and if I won't chicken out), I would. I have several messages that I would like to send across.

[Addressing the current TNTs]

I know that some, if not all of you, are anxious about a lot of things. The newbies probably anxious about their first OrSem, the young guns about experiencing Ateneo philosophy and major subjects for the first time. The hardcores and softcores (plus yung mga newniors(tanga) dyan), about their final semester or year in Ateneo. Don't get me wrong, these are all legit anxieties. I can write you a paper about it. But no, I won't. I won't even bring them up again.

I want all of you to close your eyes and envision one thing. Go back to your own OrSems and imagine the last day, before OrSem night. Do you remember your TNT's face? Do you remember your TNT saying goodbye? I do, and I remember it from both sides, being a TNT and being a freshman. It wasn't until I became a TNT that I understood why they were crying on the last day. It's because, for us, it's more than just a mere sadness of letting the freshmen go out in their Ateneo journey. For TNTs, OrSem was never just about introducing the freshmen to Ateneo and Ateneo to the freshmen anyway... And it shouldn't be.

Tears spell the difference between dedication and passion. If you were dedicated to attain a goal, then good. Dedication just shows that you can work, and that you can work hard to attain something. Passion, meanwhile, entails a desire. Passion will make you cry in success or in failure. Dedication will make OrSem so much easier, but you will only enjoy OrSem if you're passionate about it.

I can tell you now, that you're all here because in one way or another, your own TNTs affected you in some way. They planted in your heads, the idea that this tradition should be held on to; that OrSem, no matter how differently Ateneo does it, is something that you know you cherished. If you didn't then you wouldn't even think of being here right now.

I am happy to say that I guess I had changed five people's lives in the course of my two years as one of you guys. Four of them are among you right now, but I won't give their names. And as conceited as telling you that I influenced them sounds, they had also influenced me. When I was a newbie, I spoke up and said... I had never imagined that one person can be so influential to a lot. And since that moment, my view on influence had changed so much. I believe that all of you here can be influential to all of those whom you will meet next week.

Gandhi said, "Be the change you want to see in the world."

He was right. You're all given the ability to make changes in thousands of lives next week. Make the changes you want to happen. Their lives, your lives; they will cross first in that moment, so make the most of it because in the coming years, you'll find yourself standing here, where we are. You'll find the kid of whoever's mind you can change, seated on that same floor you're sitting on right now, staring at the future TNT core, the future TNT alumni, or maybe just staring... but staring in to the future.

Chuga on, and good luck in OrSem. Make your core proud and make yourselves proud.

Purpose of Life

Purpose.

n. something set up as an object or end to be attained
n. a subject under discussion or an action in course of execution

To forget one's purpose is the commonest form of stupidity. - Friedrich Nietzsche


May 21, 2013.
"Parang nawawalan na ako ng purpose sa buhay."

But what purpose does life have if not for you to live it? The last message she ever sent, and maybe ever will send, had me worried for a couple of days because I thought she offed herself. I wasn't hoping for it, but I could not overlook that possibility. But as I checked on Facebook, I saw her replying to friends' comments. And so I was relieved that she was well, but grieved that I wasn't one of those friends.

At that moment, not sad because she chose to do what she did, but sad at the outcome of yet another attempt at happiness, I knew that there was a good reason why these things happen. While I thought the same about losing purpose in life, eventually, purpose became so much clearer to me.

And I now understand that the purpose of life is for it to be lived; not wasted nor spent... Just lived.

Work of Art

Realizations come and go, but one realization I had when I was a sophomore in college was that life is an art work.

Unfinished

That first streak of blue and yellow oil
on a sheet of canvas, a
depiction of happiness, of sadness,
of memory, of life.

And in a matter of hours, days, months and years,
a streak of gold and yellow,
turns into a burst of bright
shades of unheard-of colors,
and a blank unfilled
corner of the canvas,
that is meant for what is
unfinished.

This came from one of my greatest memories in college, and one of my realizations of talent. I had affirmation from Ms. Sunday Santos, my NSTP formator when she said that I was gifted in speech.

However, the greatest realization came when I was thinking of what to say.

I had asked everyone, "Who here enjoys viewing art?" And looking to the left, I saw the pastor raise his right hand shyly just above his shoulder. At that moment, I became less nervous. I took a deep breath and continued what I had to say. As I was speaking, I was also learning. I was speaking to the crowd that life was an art work. I was speaking that NSTP, as it was culminating at the time, made me realize that we were about to paint another chapter on the canvas we call life.

I have another opportunity to paint another part of the canvas in this life. I had recently finished my undergraduate studies and have officially become an alumni of Ateneo de Manila University. And while a good portion of the work is complete, there is still so much more left to paint, and I am still planning out what to put on the palette. However, I think I have an idea what to paint in a section I am looking at. It starts with an introduction. It starts with a girl. It starts with a question. It's about to start the life I want to have.

Work of Art

Because an art work is never meant to be complete

When it is in another’s eyes. When all the lines I’ve

Ever written were never finished, all the poems

I’ve brought to life were always left incomplete.

So, now I write to you, when you deserve more

Than an unfinished work, of words that could

Bring you in circles, deciphering what I really mean to say.

All that you would think that all I have to give

Is nothing truly complete, that all the works never

Ended with a concluding punctuation.

It may strike you as I could never finish what I started,

When all I ever really meant was that our lives aren’t over

When we are left unchanged, all that is needed is a little spark,

To finish what is left to what we call a work of art.

**This was dedicated to an old friend.

Points of View

Can I tell you a story?

Back in the year 2009, I met a girl. At the time, I don't know who she would be in my life, I don't know what role she would play; I didn't even know her name. All I remember from that time was a pair of blue and green sneakers, low but hanging above the ground. This was before classes started.

Then, in the blink of an eye, classes started. I didn't even notice that summer break go by. The next thing I remember was sitting beside a couple of people I had yet to meet, waiting for class to begin. The teacher called the roll, one name at a time, then I recognized a familiar name. I was sitting there, half-wishing it was her, and half-wishing it wasn't. We talked about menial things, that I didn't know I'd even remember sitting in my bedroom, four years later.

She was introduced by someone dear to me.

Here we are... Four years later, she's somewhere out there, and I'm still holed up in this hell hole called alone. Of course, she'd think that from where she's standing, there was nothing wrong... And there won't be anything wrong until I tell her that one thing that I've always wanted to.

As the seas rise and crash in waves,
And movement dances with the way
The wind blows in the direction of the shore
Away from the rays that show themselves
Less and less. And the bright that
Casts over eyes turn to shade, and the hair
On arms raise as what used to melt has now
Changed to freeze. And under starry skies,
The fields that were once glowing
With the hope of day, is masked
By dark of night
And the hand and heart that used to write
Have long since changed their ways.

For some reason, I wrote this for her, and inspired by her... Ironically, the hand and the heart that used to write for her that have "long since changed their ways," wrote once more in their old ways.

Janine, if you're reading this now, or someday that you will get to read this... In four years, I can recount our friendship. On September 1, 2009, I told you that I liked you. In January of 2013, I told you that I will give you my blue rose. In March of 2013, you never gave me that opportunity to.

In a way, I fulfilled my promise to myself. On an early-summer night, the 20th of March in 2013, I knew that things changed. I told myself that I would find out if there was anything to happen, and I did find out, not in the way that had been planned for months.

Painted roses lie
On the ground, since last night
To dawn today. As frigid winds
Blow some away, there were
Some too heavy, they were forced to stay.
The men who have never
Shed tears for a woman's "nay,"
Do so for the first time today.

The green grass with blue petals,
Detached from stems, litter the ground
As morning rises to take the night away.
The gusts blow on and ribbons fly.
Each man takes a step away.
For when I cried, you never asked me why,
You left to leave, for a reason we never had to say.