I'm not the person I was two years ago. 

I've known this quite some time before, but I've never really acted on it. I've known all along that my fixation on the past and my unhealthy obsession (if you could call it that) on high school and how infinitely better it was than college kept me from moving forward, kept me from living in the moment. I'm trying to change this now. I don't want to remain stagnant and unchanging, while the rest of my friends go on and forge new paths, and I still trying to traverse the same, worn path. 

It is little comfort to know that some of those I am closest with still are in the same lost stage as I am, but this too may soon be lost. I don't want to remain the pessimistic, angsty, whiny girl I was two years ago. I don't want to wallow in misery, be depressed, or while away the time in a pity game. I can't be with people who manage to singlehandedly turn any good situation into a bad, miserable one; I don't want to be with anyone who imposes sadness on every single situation. You have problems; I have mine too. Yours is probably heavier, and harder to bear--that I understand. Don't mistake my distance as being distant from you. It's just that I've decided to adopt a different outlook this time. I resolve to be happy.

---

This week has been an amazing one. I've been spending more and more time with actual people, for crying out loud. The library guards must have missed me already; I never even set foot on the lib steps last Friday, not a single quick trip or visit. Most curious, most unnatural. Something good must be happening to warrant this unnatural event.

I've spent the last week with my history groupmates, trying to put up an epic adaptation of a Korean historical tale. I've been with the people I've known since last year, and the people I've known only now and came to love. I've been having such a grand time, the Glee soundtrack is permanently etched in memory now. 

I'll miss this when it's all over--which is tomorrow. I'll miss the late nights, the inside jokes, witticisms, staring contests, epic wins and epic fails. I'll miss hanging out with them and working on the play like it's my major. I'll miss not having to go the lib and work. I'll miss everything. And when this passes, my heart will probably come straying back, even though my mind will tell me to go on forward.

Last Friday I attended a blockmate's party. Damn, it felt good. I've never had such a...people-filled week. This is what living should be.

 Initially I intended this blog to be a socio-political, serious blog. 

But who would want to read that?

I resolve now to blog once a week--not for anyone, but for myself, really. I suspect that my writing skills will putter out eventually if I don't put it to good use.

--

I will soon be handing over my letter to quit the EB Race.

It's kind of sad. I've gone this far and I only need one more requirement--the panel interview--to finally end my stint in the race. At this point I'm not even sure if I'm going to be accepted into the JTA program, or Akita U for that matter, and yet I'm betting it all on this one hope that I will and I can. It's a risky decision for me to take. I can't have both, I knew that from the start, but I don't want to be left with nothing. Especially seeing how my batchmates are getting positions in their organizations, and up until this point I remain only a member.

I hate being so ambitious sometimes. I just can't be content.

--

V-Day in Ateneo is quite something. The weather is just perfect for fun: bright blue and sunny skies, the trees framing them perfectly. It's a little too hot for comfort, but the general atmosphere screams summer and screams get-out-of-the-lib-and-get-a-life. 

I won't go into emo rants because it will do me no good anyway. 

It makes me wonder sometimes if the person destined for me is waiting and looking for me. 

/cheesy

--

Remind me again why I like being/want to be a journalist.

 I love being a Comm major. Sure, there's lots of writing involved, and lots of guts needed to back up the writing, but everything feels and is brand new. I'm not yet at that point where I get to travel all over the world free of charge or at that point where I gain international fame (and a Pulitzer) for coverage of a particularly groundbreaking news story, but the little things that seem so new to me, those things I treasure so much right now. 

Take last December 22. My group had to visit a television newsroom for an assignment. It was doubly stressful for me because I had to commute back all on my own; our car's banned Tuesdays, and our other car is still in the repair shop. I could take a taxi, I figured, but where's the fun in that?

I ended up taking the LRT to Shaw Boulevard, feeling slightly nervous because I miss Ortigas station, which to me seemed much nearer to SM Megamall (my intended commute station) than Shaw. Still, I vaguely recognized the place but realized that I was utterly at a loss for directions.

I walked down the exit, trying to look as confident as I can in my official-business-looking blazer. Then I came to a crossroads: one staircase was going left, the other going right. I decided to take the right.

Then I walked. Followed people. Took left. Walked on and on and on, looking for a jeep going to Pasig Palengke. Saw none.

I decided to head back.

I guess i was feeling kind of nervous, but I was not exactly at the point of panicking. I could ask people, after all, but I wanted to figure things out on my own. I'm too scared independent like that. That, and I was too busy enjoying the feel of the wind blowing my blazer back, and me feeling all grown up in this big, big world all alone, but not too alone.

I figured that if I can't figure out where the mall was, I'd take a train back to Ortigas. Luckily, I spotted the mall a couple of blocks away. If I had taken the left, I would have been there already. No matter. I followed the people, this time my eyes set firmly on the mall. I was looking for routes, bridges, anything that would get me there without being apprehended for jaywalking. Just when I was wondering if that footbridge from afar would lead me to the mall, I turned the corner and saw that I was already there.

When I finally boarded the FX, when I finally settled, now in familiar territory, I texted my mom. I just texted her then; didn't want her to call me during that lost moment and have her worried hysterically. That would be so not cool for my independent awesomeness, I figured. So I saved it for later. And her reply was the audible sigh of relief I was still suppressing.

that ice cream makes everything a tad better.

Today I've learned that when I get nervous I can't eat, I feel like I want to throw up, my hands get really cold, and I can't stop moving. Regardless of the extent or depth of that which I am nervous about--it's all the same reaction. Maybe a little variation on the duration, but still. It's the same.

This time it was not about interviewing Quezon City councilors or a bigtime company with a controversial case on their hands or a terror prof about to grill me with a deadly oral exam (not that I've had one). It was simply about enlisting for next semester. Kind of trivial, but if it determines how dead I am/will be for the next five months then it matters a lot.

Then things went wrong, I didn't get what I wanted and got what I never wanted (an added bonus! NOT) and so the depth of nervous just became one sad sound of my heart sinking down, a very long way down. Seriously, it felt like that. When you've got emotions that strong it manifests itself physically, and it is not a good feeling to have.

Today I found out that FML and sites that let you rant publicly alleviate the feeling, and ranting to your sister helps as well. And ice cream, don't forget the ice cream.

I know that one day I'll look back and see how childish I was for fretting over this, but what's the point of feeling that now? My dad used to say we weren't appreciating someone enough, weren't seeing the good in her that apparently, he can see oh so very clearly. One day, he said, one day you'll realize that, when you grow older. So I countered, I know. But don't accelerate the growing older process, because we'll eventually get there.

I've faith in my generation, and I know we know things our parents' generation say we ought to know, but it's just that there's a gap between what we know and what we act on. I think it's part of the growing up process and whatever cliche can be applied to that, but like I said--all in due time. When the realization comes, it will come. We know it, they know it, we just choose not to acknowledge our knowing of it yet.

(What I like about blogging is how digressing I can be, and what I like about this journal is that it's comment-free.) 

 I am bored. I feel like I've spent all my sembreaks being bored like this.

I want to eat. I want to go to the mall. I want to go somewhere historical, where you have to climb over walls and feel the strain on your legs and such (Intramuros comes to mind). I want to meet my friends. I want to go to school. I want to go abroad. I WANT I WANT I WANT.

I'm eighteen, but I don't feel like eighteen. At least, not while I'm being such a childish brat whining about ice cream one moment and then taking the moral high ground and philosophizing the next. I feel like I'm stuck in that border between the kid and the adult, and I swear to God i think I'm liking it here.

I don't like sembreaks if only because they make me think, and think hard. They make me realize that I've done nada on my life to-do list while people my age are making waves out there. Or they make me realize that I'm getting old. People I know are dying/going to die/will die soon. And soon I'll be that age when I'm expected to get married and settle down and all, and I hope to God by that time I'm not in that borderline anymore.

But then, it's not so bad to pretend that ice cream will solve everything, once in a while. Life is just to complicated and crazy that I think people hardly ever get through this with the same kind of sane they were born with.

My family and I went back home for the weekend. Thankfully the water level had dropped; the first floor  of our house is now free of water, although I can't say the same for the garage and the street that's still knee-deep in flood. But I at least was glad to be back home: there I had a decent toilet and bath, a comfortable bed, and best of all, internet.

The past week was so unusual. I came back to find out that there is no longer PE on the day that I volunteered to help in my long-delayed plans of helping Task Force Ondoy. I also found out that I got As for all my subjects (except the unreleased COM100 one, yay) so I didn't have to take any final exam or submit any final requirements. So basically: I'm on sembreak now, and should I choose to cut all my classes no one would care.

So technically I should be home right now, except that I'm in the Rizal Library, typing away. I have absolutely no classes to attend today, and yet I'm spending fare and lunch money to trek all the way to Ateneo and back after my sister's classes end. I could have stayed home, but I didn't. After a week of being marooned on a lonely street where only fishes can come and visit, I think I'd sacrifice a little comfort for the sight of dry land and people.

(Plus there's internet here. I'm milking my tuition money's worth, thank you very much.)

And even though my classes for Tuesday and Thursday begin at 10.30am, I know I'll still be here 6.30am. Not that I like being up so early in the morning--I'd really rather sleep in--but that I forget how sleepy I am when I see the sun breaking through the clouds and peeking out of the branches of the trees. That and seeing how majestic the trees looked along the red brick road, especially when the place was quiet and you could hear the gentle calls of the birds and the sound of your feet crunching down on the gravel. And feel the warmth of the sun touch your cheek and the coolness of the wind come over to balance the heat. It's a nice feeling, a feeling that nothing could go wrong today. People might think I'm mad to wake up so early just to experience these things, but I think I've been going on far too long relentlessly that I needed this to make me remember that life is beautiful, however cliche that may sound.

I like walking around when the wind is cool and the sun's warmth is just right. After a week of not exercising my legs, it feels great to have a good long stretch of dry land to walk on. Some days I'd like to run across the red brick road as if someone were chasing me, or as if I was chasing someone, just because. Running makes my heart beat a little faster, and then I could pretend I was in love.

It feels kind of pathetic for me to say that though, haha. My inner romantic must be kicking in again. But then again, I'm not always this optimistic nor this cheerful about life, so let me have my moments.

I know I've never really cared about any storm or any relief operations until now--primarily because Metro Manila was heavily, heavily affected, and more so because our place was one of those which suffered most. I understand that; I understand that it's the reason why I'm so restless and so eager to help out in relief efforts, despite the clear, sad fact that we are in need of relief ourselves.

The first floor of our house is still filled with ankle-deep water. The streets outside go waist-deep. Nothing has changed since the Saturday onslaught. While some parts of the metro are drying up (or already dried up), ours is still under water.

My family had been considering moving to an apartment outside of our subdivision just so my sister and I could go to Ateneo easily once school starts again. We were supposed to move today, but CHED suspended classes until Saturday (!) so we still have a couple more days of living in our own home until then.

Following the CHED announcement, schoolmates posted status messages all over Facebook that said, since there were no classes, we might as well help out in the relief operations ongoing at Ateneo. I expressed my desire to join over lunch with my parents today, telling them--hey, look, ROTC cadets are being called to help, and don't I happen to be a cadette?--to which they said, what for? I want to go and help the victims when we were also in need of relief.

I told my father we shouldn't have the mindset of a victim.

My sister says I shouldn't force it: there really is no way I could get out with the water outside. Not unless I enlist the services of a special vehicle or something. Which would be a hassle. Not something I'd mind, honestly, but something I'd mind my parents minding.

I want to go because I hate feeling helpless and useless, and because I know Ateneo is alive with volunteerism right now. I want to see that. I want to be part of that. I've had enough with seeing Ateneo so quiet and passive, and now that something's managed to mobilize us into action, I'm not there to see it.

"You'd be so proud of Ateneo," my blockmate said. 

I find it so frustrating that now, when I really, genuinely want to help, circumstances force me to sit still and watch others be heroes. Why is it that when I finally find it in me to help out, it suddenly becomes difficult?

I'll try to force it though. I don't want to watch the world go by. I don't want to pass up this chance. 

Maybe I'll have to use the ROTC line on my parents sometimes this week. I don't care if I have to go alone, ride a cab alone, brave the waters alone. I simply want to go.

 Ondoy made me realize that I'm still so young, that there's so much more to experience, for better or for worse. 

At the height of the storm last Saturday, the radio was our only source of news as electricity was cut off. I don't know if it was because of the communication theories I've been studying these past months, but I found it saddening that there was a sort of exhibition in the way people sent requests for help on air. It's as if they were trying to one-up each other just to be the first to receive help: "Urgent please!", "Please help very very urgent!", "We have young children with us on the roof", etc. Isn't it sad that the only way for people to get help quickly is to exploit the gravity of their situation? They have to "prove" that theirs is the more urgent case, that theirs is the more life-threatening situation when almost everyone is. Their pleas for help are like performances; you've got a lot of 'competition', so you have to stand out from the rest.

And what's sadder is that despite the variety of ways in which they ask for help, the government has only one uniform response: We're mobilizing all our assets (the buzzword of the day, it seemed) and doing the best we can. 

Not only is it not comforting, you never know if you can hold on to that promise for sure.

 When I was in high school, our school directress would admonish us whenever we students responded positively to news of suspended classes. Come on, how could we not--there are no classes. Even though she kept reminding us of the harsh reality--that suspended classes means destroyed homes, flooded streets, and a host of other problems we can only imagine--these were just too far away from our consciousness and our lived realities. We can't feel genuine empathy for something we haven't experienced. That, I thought, was the harsh reality our directress should have contended with.

The truth of the matter is that we really couldn't care less. After all, our houses are fine; the street fronting our homes aren't being flooded with brown, murky waters filled with God-knows-what kind of trash. Our roofs aren't being blown off by the wind. We have enough provisions; we can swim; our houses are high enough and built well enough to withstand the storm; we aren't living near a river that could easily overflow. How could we care? 

That persisted until college. When a typhoon ravaged parts of Mindanao (I think; I could not recall the storm's name now), the Sanggu organized a relief operations drive. People helped out, of course, but they weren't as personally involved in it as they are now.

Because the worst flooding in 40 years ravaged Manila, and--farfetched as it may seem in my mind--we are one of the victims. There's nearly a thousand-yard stare in my eyes, because all along I've always thought that this happened to other people, not me. When the brown, murky water started filling the street and rising, and the rain would not let up, I started to think that this was not funny. When the waters gushed into our garage, I began to worry a little; it had flooded before, once, but it never entered any part of the house. This was something new. 

Still the rain fell. When the water reached ankle-deep inside our house--I began to seriously think that things aren't so safe anymore.

People stranded in offices, schools, roads. A contact on Facebook had to wade through the Katipunan floods. He said--and it made me sit up and take notice--that there was a current. That was when he realized that people could actually drown and die in these rains.

Currently the water's a little below knee-level inside our house; outside, it's waist-deep. Other parts of Manila are drying up, but we happened to be right smack in the area where things are going to take a little longer than usual.

I've never been so personally and emotionally involved in any storm before. Listening to radio last night, I felt genuinely sad and scared for the victims begging for help on air because water reached their second floors, or they were on the roof, or they had young kids with them, or an elderly person, or a pregnant woman (seriously). I really, really wanted to help. Things change so much when you experience it first-hand. My ego involvement on this one really jumped up notches.

People actually die in these things. The person who texted the radio station for help could be just another body floating around the next morning. There's so much uncertainty, helplessness, desperation that everything has become just so sad. I don't think any other adjective can give justice to that. It's sad. It's simply sad and so much more.

alive.

I love these little instances when the humdrum school days would just suddenly be infused with vibrant school energy. You can feel it in the air. The excitement over preparations for the Sagala ng mga Sikat was very tangible--this coming from someone who's not participating in the said event. It's just there. It lingers, asking to be touched and felt. 

The same thing happened on the day last year when the Blue Eagles was about to meet the Archers a second time. You can feel it too, like an annoying buzz that invisibly lets its presence be felt. You can feel it when you see hordes of Ateneans all decked in blue and white, mostly GetBlued apparel. You can sense that all they're talking about was the game and the last-minute grab for scalped tickets. I came in white also, although I was not going to be able to watch the games, but it makes you feel part of a community that is finally alive.

I felt it too when the TNTs raided the caf and the Zen garden to pump up enthusiasm for the OrSem. I felt it too during the frenzy that was OrSem itself. It's these little occurrences, rare ones, the kind that smashes the silent and calm of the passive Ateneo life that get me the most. It reminds you that life is not all books and orgs.

(I still get envious of the crowds of students hanging out after class. I wish I could do that. I kind of miss it.)