I don't think I've ever been happier in my life.
No, I am not in love or inspired. And nothing particularly good has happened to me. In fact, today I just got the disastrous results of my oral exams under Fr. Dacanay. But there really is this transcendent, almost magical happiness within me that defies logic or explanation. All I know is that this happiness has continually been building up ever since my early childhood.
Prep school was probably the unhappiest point in my life. Almost every night, I'd have these nightmares that would kindle my innermost fears. At home, I often got envious of my brothers for taking all my parents' attention. In school, I would achieve excellence and win contests. But as the medals piled up, the pressure escalated, and the misery only grew worse. As I proceeded to my elementary years however, I stopped having the nightmares. I slowly broke free from the pressures that the achievements created. As I got older and freer, I became happier and more appreciative of everything around me.
I never realized all this until just a few days ago, when my world turned upside down after I lost the reservation to our room for our project's General Assembly. I was in dire straits at that time; I did not know what to do. What made it worse is that I was the one who volunteered to reserve the room, and my groupmates had already texted the hundreds of members and even made a poster showing the venue of the GA. They thought that I had reserved the venue weeks before. Just two days before the event, I lost the reservation. I usually keep problems to myself, but at that time I wanted to release the stress since I had Theo orals the next day. I told my friends about it, texted them about it, asked for help. Finally, laoshi/ouxiang offered to help me. At first, I wasn't relieved. But when he promised me that I would get a room, I felt a lot better. When I went home, I vented all the stress by sharing it with my brothers. They patiently listened to me and even offered advice. Oh thank God for friends and family.
The next day, laoshi told me that... there was a room for me! It was such a moment of relief for me. But more than that, it was the moment I realized how happy I am and how thankful I should be for everything in my life.
to be continued...
Monday, August 11, 2008
Monday, June 2, 2008
An Eternity of Happy Memories
“Where did the six weeks go?”
That was the question everybody was asking as we reluctantly packed our bags during our last day in Zhuhai. After an hour of stuffing and weighing the paraphernalia I accumulated over our six-week stay, my bag was finally prepared.
But my heart was not.
At that moment, I don’t think anyone among the fifteen of us was prepared to leave either. As we dragged our heavy bags, only our feet moved; our minds meanwhile, frantically and stubbornly held on to every last bit of our school and home. No one knew why time had to pass so quickly. No one understood why we couldn’t stay forever. No one dared to accept that it was finally over. No one wanted to wake up from the perfect dream.
Even after our airplane landed, we still clutched desperately onto our seats – a feeble attempt at prolonging, even for a few more minutes, the most wonderful and unforgettable journey of our lives.
I intended to write a detailed diary about our six-week exchange program in SYSU the moment I arrived in the Philippines. For one week I tried, but the words would not cooperate. I still believed that when I wake up the following day, I would be back in Room 213, with the friendly faces of my classmates to approach me when I come out of the room, with the warm smiles of our teachers to meet me when we reach the classroom. Putting it to words would bring about a closure to all of that.
Even after finally coming to terms with the truth, I still found it a struggle to write. I was afraid. I was afraid that no prose or poetry can ever paint the colorful memories. I was afraid to reduce such a beautiful experience into mere words. But today, after looking back once more at the pictures and videos of the trip, I realized something… words only reinforce what is already in the heart.
Suddenly I am back to where I was seven weeks ago…
The cool misty air, the lakes and mountains surrounding the majestic campus, the colossal classroom building, the cheap yet delicious cafeterias, the rowdy basketball courts, our warm comfortable classrooms, our lively dormitory... all the places where we left our footprints, all the backdrops where we formed our memories…
And it’s all coming back to me…
I remember forgetting how hungry I was after seeing the SYSU campus for the first time.
I remember how playing "Jack the Killer" became a means for me to get to know my tour-mates' names.
I remember Cai Laoshi frequently knocking on our door late at night to share his intriguing stories.
I remember playing card games and Truth or Consequence until 3 or 4 am.
I remember riding the "yikuai" solar-powered golf cart whenever we get tired of the long walk back to our dorm.
I remember that one wet day in our Zhaoqing field trip when everybody’s shoes got soaked.
I remember watching movies while we curled under the blankets, guarding ourselves from the mosquitoes and the cold.
I remember the small trips to the supermarket and the long, dark walks to Rongyuan Room 519 to play DotA with our Chinese friends.
I remember challenging SYSU students to play basketball, and complaining later on how violently intense they play.
I remember the shopping trips to Gongbei and to Wanzai, and how we all wanted a shirt with a Chinese flag.
I remember the Cantonese curse words and the “Oh Yeahs!” in the bus.
I remember the funny class skits, the rowdy class games, and the “pambobola” sentences that we always use during discussions.
I remember the painstaking shufa classes and the naptime Culture classes.
I remember the “yao la de ma?” barbecue, the xiaolongbao, the lamian, the chaofan, and the chicken caf.
I remember how I learned not only Chinese, but also biking, the proper way of walking, and trashtalking.
I remember, I remember…
And just like that, six weeks doesn’t seem short anymore, when I realize that it has enough unforgettable memories to last a lifetime.
I will never forget how warmly the SYSU students greeted us during our welcome party.
I will never forget the three-point shootouts with our Chinese friends, and how the loser had to treat everybody with tangshui.
I will never forget how I slept so deeply that I failed to show up for class, and even locked out my roommate.
I will never forget my concerned teachers who tirelessly looked for me all around the campus in my first and only attempt to cut class.
I will never forget bargaining until the vendors screamed and cried, whether it was a T-shirt, a flag, a PSP or a laptop.
I will never forget how we joined the university-wide singing contest, made Tonghua sound like a broken chant, yet still get applause for being Filipino students.
I will never forget the school choir who dedicated three songs to us with their angelic voices.
I will never forget the 31 bottles of Tsingtao beer we drank with the French exchange students, and the drunken sessions in the days that followed.
I will never forget studying until 4 am for our Chinese exams, because after finishing a lesson we had our PSP “xiuxi time.”
I will never forget the the kalabitan and sungayan when posing for pictures, lengxiaohua on the way to the bookstore, the trashtalking during Tekken, the spoon that cannot be flushed, the tissue paper race, the laundry room mishaps, holding a wet maopi brush while running to the Calligraphy class a mountain away.
I will never forget the jokes and stories we shared, the teasing we endured, the laughter we enjoyed, and the tears we cried.
Most of all, I will never forget the friendship that went through times of happiness and sadness, solemnity and insanity, wealth and poverty.
As I think of my friends, and recall their smiling faces, I can’t help but smile, too - the wistful, hopeful smile that can only come after the best of times.
I wish that we could watch a movie under the blankets again, play Tekken before the final exams again, climb the mountain to the library again, drink tangshui again, play DotA and watch NBA in room 519 again, sit in the Chinese students’ classes again, eat the 3.5 yuan xiaolongbao again, haggle prices at Gongbei again. We still had so many plans. If only we could relive every memory…
I really miss Zhongshan Daxue, our school and home. I miss all the people I met in the trip. I miss every moment of the six weeks that we were there.
Leaving something close to the heart is the most difficult thing. But as I move on, I am still happy; for these six weeks have been the best and most unforgettable six weeks of my life.
“Where did the six weeks go?” I have an answer now.
Into our hearts, as an eternity of happy memories.
That was the question everybody was asking as we reluctantly packed our bags during our last day in Zhuhai. After an hour of stuffing and weighing the paraphernalia I accumulated over our six-week stay, my bag was finally prepared.
But my heart was not.
At that moment, I don’t think anyone among the fifteen of us was prepared to leave either. As we dragged our heavy bags, only our feet moved; our minds meanwhile, frantically and stubbornly held on to every last bit of our school and home. No one knew why time had to pass so quickly. No one understood why we couldn’t stay forever. No one dared to accept that it was finally over. No one wanted to wake up from the perfect dream.
Even after our airplane landed, we still clutched desperately onto our seats – a feeble attempt at prolonging, even for a few more minutes, the most wonderful and unforgettable journey of our lives.
I intended to write a detailed diary about our six-week exchange program in SYSU the moment I arrived in the Philippines. For one week I tried, but the words would not cooperate. I still believed that when I wake up the following day, I would be back in Room 213, with the friendly faces of my classmates to approach me when I come out of the room, with the warm smiles of our teachers to meet me when we reach the classroom. Putting it to words would bring about a closure to all of that.
Even after finally coming to terms with the truth, I still found it a struggle to write. I was afraid. I was afraid that no prose or poetry can ever paint the colorful memories. I was afraid to reduce such a beautiful experience into mere words. But today, after looking back once more at the pictures and videos of the trip, I realized something… words only reinforce what is already in the heart.
Suddenly I am back to where I was seven weeks ago…
The cool misty air, the lakes and mountains surrounding the majestic campus, the colossal classroom building, the cheap yet delicious cafeterias, the rowdy basketball courts, our warm comfortable classrooms, our lively dormitory... all the places where we left our footprints, all the backdrops where we formed our memories…
And it’s all coming back to me…
I remember forgetting how hungry I was after seeing the SYSU campus for the first time.
I remember how playing "Jack the Killer" became a means for me to get to know my tour-mates' names.
I remember Cai Laoshi frequently knocking on our door late at night to share his intriguing stories.
I remember playing card games and Truth or Consequence until 3 or 4 am.
I remember riding the "yikuai" solar-powered golf cart whenever we get tired of the long walk back to our dorm.
I remember that one wet day in our Zhaoqing field trip when everybody’s shoes got soaked.
I remember watching movies while we curled under the blankets, guarding ourselves from the mosquitoes and the cold.
I remember the small trips to the supermarket and the long, dark walks to Rongyuan Room 519 to play DotA with our Chinese friends.
I remember challenging SYSU students to play basketball, and complaining later on how violently intense they play.
I remember the shopping trips to Gongbei and to Wanzai, and how we all wanted a shirt with a Chinese flag.
I remember the Cantonese curse words and the “Oh Yeahs!” in the bus.
I remember the funny class skits, the rowdy class games, and the “pambobola” sentences that we always use during discussions.
I remember the painstaking shufa classes and the naptime Culture classes.
I remember the “yao la de ma?” barbecue, the xiaolongbao, the lamian, the chaofan, and the chicken caf.
I remember how I learned not only Chinese, but also biking, the proper way of walking, and trashtalking.
I remember, I remember…
And just like that, six weeks doesn’t seem short anymore, when I realize that it has enough unforgettable memories to last a lifetime.
I will never forget how warmly the SYSU students greeted us during our welcome party.
I will never forget the three-point shootouts with our Chinese friends, and how the loser had to treat everybody with tangshui.
I will never forget how I slept so deeply that I failed to show up for class, and even locked out my roommate.
I will never forget my concerned teachers who tirelessly looked for me all around the campus in my first and only attempt to cut class.
I will never forget bargaining until the vendors screamed and cried, whether it was a T-shirt, a flag, a PSP or a laptop.
I will never forget how we joined the university-wide singing contest, made Tonghua sound like a broken chant, yet still get applause for being Filipino students.
I will never forget the school choir who dedicated three songs to us with their angelic voices.
I will never forget the 31 bottles of Tsingtao beer we drank with the French exchange students, and the drunken sessions in the days that followed.
I will never forget studying until 4 am for our Chinese exams, because after finishing a lesson we had our PSP “xiuxi time.”
I will never forget the the kalabitan and sungayan when posing for pictures, lengxiaohua on the way to the bookstore, the trashtalking during Tekken, the spoon that cannot be flushed, the tissue paper race, the laundry room mishaps, holding a wet maopi brush while running to the Calligraphy class a mountain away.
I will never forget the jokes and stories we shared, the teasing we endured, the laughter we enjoyed, and the tears we cried.
Most of all, I will never forget the friendship that went through times of happiness and sadness, solemnity and insanity, wealth and poverty.
As I think of my friends, and recall their smiling faces, I can’t help but smile, too - the wistful, hopeful smile that can only come after the best of times.
I wish that we could watch a movie under the blankets again, play Tekken before the final exams again, climb the mountain to the library again, drink tangshui again, play DotA and watch NBA in room 519 again, sit in the Chinese students’ classes again, eat the 3.5 yuan xiaolongbao again, haggle prices at Gongbei again. We still had so many plans. If only we could relive every memory…
I really miss Zhongshan Daxue, our school and home. I miss all the people I met in the trip. I miss every moment of the six weeks that we were there.
Leaving something close to the heart is the most difficult thing. But as I move on, I am still happy; for these six weeks have been the best and most unforgettable six weeks of my life.
“Where did the six weeks go?” I have an answer now.
Into our hearts, as an eternity of happy memories.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
A Hodgepodge
A pleasant summer so far. Freedom is bliss. I can freely sleep at sunrise and wake up well after lunch. I can go on movie and TV series marathons to my heart's delight. I can get lost in a book without worrying about anything concerning this world. I can get sucked into video games and just let its spell take over me. I can prowl the internet until it's dry of information. I can gorge on food until it hurts just to bend. I can play basketball until my knees buckle. I can stay overnight at friends' houses. I can go on mall-hopping and shopping sprees. I can sing and enjoy the company of music. I can, I can. And that's the problem, I can. I can use the time to take on more consequential endeavors but I choose to spoil myself. Amid these sweet little pleasures, that voice at the back of my head keeps reminding me that this could be the last summer I'll ever be this free. Heck, this is the last summer that I should ever be this free. Being carefree has a steep tradeoff, and that is the intensely guilty feeling of being bum and useless. Next summer, I hope to be productive for a change. =)
***
I’ve been following American Idol religiously this season and I’m such a big fan of the Top 8 that I can’t choose a favorite anymore. Anyway, the “Idol Gives Back” episode tonight was especially heartwarming. It’s nice to see America’s biggest celebrities sharing their support for a worthy cause – helping out children in Africa. I hope that Americans and the rest of the world internalize and reflect on the pressing problems of the world. American Idol did its part in promoting awareness on Africa. It’s about time for the Americans to walk away from their overweight, self-centered, and over-consumptionist comfort zones and extend their affluence (because even amidst the impending US recession America is still the richest and most influential nation on Earth) to the needy in Africa. I believe that here is hope in this cause, since the change this time started at the top. The two richest men in the planet are directly involved, after all. I just wish that the assistance they give be not merely for publicity’s sake but real help that can effect change in Africa and other third-world countries. One small step for them, one giant leap for mankind. It would be great if the media can influence more people to take part in a worthy cause such as Idol Gives Back. If the world engages in a mentality of helping and giving, “Make the world a better place” won’t anymore be just an idealistic statement. It would become a realistic affirmation - backed by 6 billion people.
***
It’s been a long, long school year. After going through the difficult (surviving a three hour long ordeal known as the departmental long exam), the impossible (cramming a paper minutes before submission time), the challenging (a 40-page statistics project that I practically did on my own), the new (managing an org project), the foolish (falling out of H after barely one month), the spine-tingling (a sinister cold sensation that fills the lungs in place of air whenever I fail to do my accounting homework and Ma’am Ibarra is about to pick her ‘color of the day’), the eye-opening (NSTP), the knowledge-filled (most of my classes), and of course, the fun and the friendship, I am proud to say that I finally staggered my way out of my second year in college. It’s been a trying year – my grades fell below par - but I am happy that I came out of it stronger and (hopefully) wiser.
***
I am about to embark, on this very day, on a six-week exchange program in Guangdong, China. This will be my last post until I come back since, well, Multiply is banned in COMMUNIST China. I am gonna miss a lot… (in no particular order) family, friends, Sunday Mass, my lazy existence, Tagalog, English, NBA playoffs, movie marathons, DSL, democracy (? haha), American Idol, teleserye-worthy politics, extravagant meals, tears, laughter, and whatever else I love about this country. Oh well, I just hope that this program will at least be as fruitful and fun as the last six-week China summer program I took part in three years ago. Okay, that’s all, Bye! =)
***
I’ve been following American Idol religiously this season and I’m such a big fan of the Top 8 that I can’t choose a favorite anymore. Anyway, the “Idol Gives Back” episode tonight was especially heartwarming. It’s nice to see America’s biggest celebrities sharing their support for a worthy cause – helping out children in Africa. I hope that Americans and the rest of the world internalize and reflect on the pressing problems of the world. American Idol did its part in promoting awareness on Africa. It’s about time for the Americans to walk away from their overweight, self-centered, and over-consumptionist comfort zones and extend their affluence (because even amidst the impending US recession America is still the richest and most influential nation on Earth) to the needy in Africa. I believe that here is hope in this cause, since the change this time started at the top. The two richest men in the planet are directly involved, after all. I just wish that the assistance they give be not merely for publicity’s sake but real help that can effect change in Africa and other third-world countries. One small step for them, one giant leap for mankind. It would be great if the media can influence more people to take part in a worthy cause such as Idol Gives Back. If the world engages in a mentality of helping and giving, “Make the world a better place” won’t anymore be just an idealistic statement. It would become a realistic affirmation - backed by 6 billion people.
***
It’s been a long, long school year. After going through the difficult (surviving a three hour long ordeal known as the departmental long exam), the impossible (cramming a paper minutes before submission time), the challenging (a 40-page statistics project that I practically did on my own), the new (managing an org project), the foolish (falling out of H after barely one month), the spine-tingling (a sinister cold sensation that fills the lungs in place of air whenever I fail to do my accounting homework and Ma’am Ibarra is about to pick her ‘color of the day’), the eye-opening (NSTP), the knowledge-filled (most of my classes), and of course, the fun and the friendship, I am proud to say that I finally staggered my way out of my second year in college. It’s been a trying year – my grades fell below par - but I am happy that I came out of it stronger and (hopefully) wiser.
***
I am about to embark, on this very day, on a six-week exchange program in Guangdong, China. This will be my last post until I come back since, well, Multiply is banned in COMMUNIST China. I am gonna miss a lot… (in no particular order) family, friends, Sunday Mass, my lazy existence, Tagalog, English, NBA playoffs, movie marathons, DSL, democracy (? haha), American Idol, teleserye-worthy politics, extravagant meals, tears, laughter, and whatever else I love about this country. Oh well, I just hope that this program will at least be as fruitful and fun as the last six-week China summer program I took part in three years ago. Okay, that’s all, Bye! =)
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Tagged - Five Best Nights
I was tagged by Aldwin a long time ago, and it's only now that I have the time to do this.
FIVE BEST NIGHTS OF YOUR LIFE
1) Every night of our senior year retreat - Those nights spent with HS 4C at the retreat house in Tagaytay were the most magical and poignant moments of my life. It was a harmony of opposites- boisterous fun and spirituality, laughter and tears, lovers and enemies, that made those nights truly special. I remember especially the class sharing with soothing music and candle lights, the reading of reco letters, and the spiritual activity on the last night that turned out to be a journey to dreamland for me. Our class really bonded in friendship and camaraderie, in hugs and in songs. I continue to cherish the beautiful memories of those nights, and I will certainly bring them with me even to my grave and beyond.
2) Last night of Beijing Tour - It was the last night of a six-week study tour. It was the last night we would ever see most of the friends (and partners-in-crime) we made during the memorable study tour. We decided to make the most of the last night. We did not sleep. We made so much noise so that no one in our dorm could sleep. Everything we did on that last night. We pulled pranks, took pictures, had heart-to-heart conversations, whispered, shouted, laughed, and finally, cried. Six weeks had seemed too short for our group, the trip had come to an end so abruptly for us. We wanted to stay in our school as long as we could and just be in each other's company. I can say that it's probably both one of the best and one of the worst nights of my life. One thing's for sure though, it was life at its best.
3) Junior Prom - Freedom! On what other occasion can we have an opportunity to see childhood buddies and familiar faces dressed at their best, and then to play in Timezone until 2 am, roam around Greenbelt until 3 am, and play strip Slapjack until 4 am. Truly, I have never been freer than I had been that night. It was the pinnacle of the wild joys of youth, and one of the highlights of my highschool life.
4) Last night of GGC Summer Camp - It was a very unsettling experience at first. I had never been in a fellowship program. I was so amazed at the sheer passion and dedication that the people in the Grace Gospel Camp showed. It was humbling and moving and awe-inspiring at the same time. We sang songs of praise, conducted enlightening fellowship sessions, and shared testimonies. The people were all so kind and friendly. It was primarily a spiritual acticity but we all had so much fun.
5) It is a tie between overnights in friends' houses, debut parties of my friends, and family vacations. Or maybe, my fifth best night is yet to come. =)
FIVE BEST NIGHTS OF YOUR LIFE
1) Every night of our senior year retreat - Those nights spent with HS 4C at the retreat house in Tagaytay were the most magical and poignant moments of my life. It was a harmony of opposites- boisterous fun and spirituality, laughter and tears, lovers and enemies, that made those nights truly special. I remember especially the class sharing with soothing music and candle lights, the reading of reco letters, and the spiritual activity on the last night that turned out to be a journey to dreamland for me. Our class really bonded in friendship and camaraderie, in hugs and in songs. I continue to cherish the beautiful memories of those nights, and I will certainly bring them with me even to my grave and beyond.
2) Last night of Beijing Tour - It was the last night of a six-week study tour. It was the last night we would ever see most of the friends (and partners-in-crime) we made during the memorable study tour. We decided to make the most of the last night. We did not sleep. We made so much noise so that no one in our dorm could sleep. Everything we did on that last night. We pulled pranks, took pictures, had heart-to-heart conversations, whispered, shouted, laughed, and finally, cried. Six weeks had seemed too short for our group, the trip had come to an end so abruptly for us. We wanted to stay in our school as long as we could and just be in each other's company. I can say that it's probably both one of the best and one of the worst nights of my life. One thing's for sure though, it was life at its best.
3) Junior Prom - Freedom! On what other occasion can we have an opportunity to see childhood buddies and familiar faces dressed at their best, and then to play in Timezone until 2 am, roam around Greenbelt until 3 am, and play strip Slapjack until 4 am. Truly, I have never been freer than I had been that night. It was the pinnacle of the wild joys of youth, and one of the highlights of my highschool life.
4) Last night of GGC Summer Camp - It was a very unsettling experience at first. I had never been in a fellowship program. I was so amazed at the sheer passion and dedication that the people in the Grace Gospel Camp showed. It was humbling and moving and awe-inspiring at the same time. We sang songs of praise, conducted enlightening fellowship sessions, and shared testimonies. The people were all so kind and friendly. It was primarily a spiritual acticity but we all had so much fun.
5) It is a tie between overnights in friends' houses, debut parties of my friends, and family vacations. Or maybe, my fifth best night is yet to come. =)
Saturday, March 1, 2008
My greatest fear
One of the most peculiar things about me is that I have this mortal fear of looking at watches or clocks. I dread being aware of the time.
As with most fears, my chronophobia is impossible to rationalize. I already had it since childhood. When I received my first watch from my dad, I detested it. For me, the disturbing ticking sound emanating from the watch reminds me to always hurry and do things with urgency. It felt like a timebomb on my wrist. It's probably the thought that watching every second tick is a reminder of time wasted, a creeping countdown to the end. Since then, I never wore a watch again.
The thing I really hate about the concept of time is that it quantifies life’s magical moments. The walls of time divide our experiences into segments, sundering apart the wholeness of life. It sets intervals and imposes limits on things that should have been immeasurable and free-flowing.
Of course, there are consequences. In this world where time is king, my fear is indeed debilitating. I am often clueless in my thoughts and random in my actions, often turning up late in class and in project submissions. I end up wasting boatloads of time since I am unmindful its limits and constraints. Still, I never looked at the time unless it was absolutely necessary. I have this outlandish belief that time does not pass until you look at it. It certainly does not exempt me from the reality that every person is a slave of time’s inevitability. I just love the “lost in the moment” feeling. I just feel so alive when I totally lose track of the time.
Losing awareness of time sometimes feels like transcending the limitations of mortality and of this world. We lose our sense of time when we pour out our entire consciousness in a certain endeavor, such as reading a good book, playing an addictive videogame or participating in a good conversation with a friend. Even for a while, we get to escape the shackles of time’s prison cells and experience true freedom. It’s surely no coincidence that the people who claim to have found inner peace are the ones with commune with nature and lose track of time. Conversely, the people who are the most stressed out are those who perpetually had deadlines to meet and appointments to attend to.
Time is unforgiving and constant, yet at some level we are in control of its rapidity. Why is it that time meanders like a drunk snail during Eco or Theo class, but rushes faster than a wild tempest during the fun and boisterous times we share with our loved ones? It’s all psychological, and it’s something we can overcome by opening our minds to the glimmer of hope and excitement in everything.
Good times or bad though, time eats away at life, steadily and surely. I had been afraid of time because I saw my life crumbling inconsequentially before my eyes. Now that I have realized what I’m truly afraid of, I am trying to overcome my fear. I guess that what I have to do is not to hide from time but to make use of it, not to think of each day as my last but as my first.
As with most fears, my chronophobia is impossible to rationalize. I already had it since childhood. When I received my first watch from my dad, I detested it. For me, the disturbing ticking sound emanating from the watch reminds me to always hurry and do things with urgency. It felt like a timebomb on my wrist. It's probably the thought that watching every second tick is a reminder of time wasted, a creeping countdown to the end. Since then, I never wore a watch again.
The thing I really hate about the concept of time is that it quantifies life’s magical moments. The walls of time divide our experiences into segments, sundering apart the wholeness of life. It sets intervals and imposes limits on things that should have been immeasurable and free-flowing.
Of course, there are consequences. In this world where time is king, my fear is indeed debilitating. I am often clueless in my thoughts and random in my actions, often turning up late in class and in project submissions. I end up wasting boatloads of time since I am unmindful its limits and constraints. Still, I never looked at the time unless it was absolutely necessary. I have this outlandish belief that time does not pass until you look at it. It certainly does not exempt me from the reality that every person is a slave of time’s inevitability. I just love the “lost in the moment” feeling. I just feel so alive when I totally lose track of the time.
Losing awareness of time sometimes feels like transcending the limitations of mortality and of this world. We lose our sense of time when we pour out our entire consciousness in a certain endeavor, such as reading a good book, playing an addictive videogame or participating in a good conversation with a friend. Even for a while, we get to escape the shackles of time’s prison cells and experience true freedom. It’s surely no coincidence that the people who claim to have found inner peace are the ones with commune with nature and lose track of time. Conversely, the people who are the most stressed out are those who perpetually had deadlines to meet and appointments to attend to.
Time is unforgiving and constant, yet at some level we are in control of its rapidity. Why is it that time meanders like a drunk snail during Eco or Theo class, but rushes faster than a wild tempest during the fun and boisterous times we share with our loved ones? It’s all psychological, and it’s something we can overcome by opening our minds to the glimmer of hope and excitement in everything.
Good times or bad though, time eats away at life, steadily and surely. I had been afraid of time because I saw my life crumbling inconsequentially before my eyes. Now that I have realized what I’m truly afraid of, I am trying to overcome my fear. I guess that what I have to do is not to hide from time but to make use of it, not to think of each day as my last but as my first.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Music... more than meets the ear.
I have come to love music the way it deserves to be loved.
My taste in music had always been at least a generation behind the current craze. When people were already crazy over Westlife, I was still humming my favorite Britney Spears songs. When people had already gotten tired of N’Sync, I just started to get the hang of Backstreet Boys. And in the times when those OPMs escalated in popularity, I took a different route and explored my passion for Chinese love songs.
My highschool years marked the times wherein I attempted to address my anachronistic tendencies. I tried listening to music for the sole purpose of keeping myself updated on new trends and hit songs. I tuned in to MTV to watch the newest music videos. I religiously followed the Myx Hit Chart so that I would know which songs to download. But I quickly lost interest as it was something I had to force myself to do. For the longest time I continued to suffer in silence and cluelessness whenever the topic of music came up, or during times when everybody just had to sing along to some song I just heard for the first time.
As I matured through the years, I have realized that there has to be love and not mere infatuation between man and music. In this light, I have come to see music as something that transcends mere fads. The gigabytes upon gigabytes of tunes in my music folders would affirm that notion. I couldn’t care less if my playlists are not up-to-date nor popular. My kind of songs span a wide variety of musical genres and fit into any occasion in my life. This special assortment of songs in my music folder reflect the evolution of my musical preferences.
When I was a child, my father often played classical music so it was the first musical genre I liked. As I reached my preteen years, I started to have my own tastes and got immersed in, hate-to-admit-it, bubblegum pop. I fortunately outgrew this and went on to like boy-band and girl-band music. After that stage, the rush of hormones in my teenage years dictated my passions, and I got hooked to senti songs. Paraphrasing a quote from a friend, the sadness and longing sentimental love songs evoke actually make me feel more alive and human.
My musical horizons continue to expand. I am currently inclined towards alternative rock music, chinese songs, religious songs, and instrumental movie themes. I have developed my own standards to assess which songs are nice and which are not. In most cases, I am now able to relate whenever the topic of music comes up.
I have come to love music the way it deserves to be loved. Music truly more than meets the ear. Looking back, it certainly seems that each period of my life has been colored by a particular song or musical genre. There seems to have a soundtrack for every significant experience in my life. When I listen today to my old songs, I can’t help but have an “ecsta-nostalgic” (combination of ecstatic and nostalgic) ache in my heart.
To narrate a few instances, whenever ”In the End” by Linkin Park blares from my speakers, I float away from my computer back to that carefree summer in Beijing, once again eating cup noodles while having boisterous conversations and sharing magic tricks with tour-mates. It was as if time never passed. Whenever “If we hold on together” plays, I get to relive that magical moment in our senior year recollection, wherein our class as one big circle sings the song teary-eyed while passing roses and hugs to each other. Oh how bittersweet a feeling that is - bitter because I would never be able to truly live it again, yet sweet because I could always relive the magic through that song.
Songs in these instances cease to become mere expressions of emotion. The lyrics and even the melody are shed, and the soul of the song comes out. Music at the level of the soul immortalizes life’s best moments. As these euphoric moments die down and we fall back to our mundane lives, only music can serve as escape vehicles back to our happiest memories. In invoking our fondest stories these songs serve the highest purpose of all, as the bookmarks of life.
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