Random Realizations # 1

I’ve been to Palawan, Cebu, and a mass for a dead friend recently. And yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of alone time at home too. And as usual, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Here are some of the weird things I’ve been thinking of. Okay, they’re not really that weird, I guess, just a little deeper and personal than usual.

This is going to be the first of a hopefully long series of random realizations I’m going to start posting on my blog (hence the rather unimaginative title).

* * *

My memories of high school are nothing but a black-and-white blur of stargazing sessions in Cuenca park, late-night practices for yearly inter-batch plays, LSYC retreats, phone conversations, and jam sessions. Hell, I don’t even practically remember anything that happened before Third Year anymore, which is really sad, considering that – in hindsight – that was the happier period of my life (Ignorance really IS bliss. So is idealism. They go hand-in-hand. Go figure.)

It kind of makes me wonder whether longing to get to college back then was all worth it. I mean, I was counting down the days to my graduation as early as Second Year. I thought that college would be this whole grand adventure where everything would be ideal, and fun, and perfect. Guess not.

* * *

College, on the other hand, has been a colorful montage of caffeine-infused cram sessions, drunken reverie, horrendous and impossible exams, evening swims with friends, and early morning convenience store binges after sweat-drenched parties.

But has it lived up to my expectations of it back in high school? Has it been worth the countdown and the long wait? Hell no. I’m sure you’d agree.

* * *

I, quite unfortunately, have picked the wrong course to get into. I should’ve shifted out back in first year, when I still could’ve. Sure, Management Engineering is the course where probably some of the smartest people in Ateneo are, but let’s take it for what it is – a fast track to climbing the local corporate ladder, a way to guarantee your ass a seat in a cubicle somewhere in Makati or Ortigas. This, as you probably can infer, dear reader, is just not my thing. I know it’s what some people consider the ultimate exemplar of Third-World financial security, but I’m sorry, that kind of life’s just not for me. I need to keep doing something new every few years; if not I’m going to die of sheer boredom.

A friend in my course came up to me towards the end of last semester and told me that he and some of my other friends felt really sorry for me. Sayang, he said, kasi alam kong ‘pag nasa Comm ka, tangina makaka-summa cum laude ka pa sana. Hindi ka talaga masaya sa ME no? My thoughts exactly. I have another friend in AB Comm who told me that I was actually more suited to Comm than he was. Beat that.

But yeah, it’s no use wallowing in regret, I guess.

* * *

What exactly do I want to be then?

For a time, I really, deeply wanted to be a high school teacher. I figured that I could teach Economics, Philosophy, or Math back in Zobel. I’m not really after the money, you see; I mean, I think I could easily handle a few businesses on the side to raise enough money to fund my luxuries – you know, to buy a nice European car, get to travel once a year, stuff like that. And I figured, I’d rather be a teacher and do something with some substance, you know - give the kids of the next generation something to chew on, give them renewed hope in the country, and maybe even erase the prevalent anti-poor, let’s-go-migrate-to-North-America-instead mentality, that kind of stuff. Pretty idealistic, huh? But then again, you probably already know that I’m like that.

But I don’t want to teach anymore. Let’s just say something happened that completely destroyed my perception of what I once believed to be such a noble profession. I’ll just leave it at that okay? It hurts. ktnx.

Now, I still don’t know what the hell I want to do after college. Okay, I do – I want to be like Ian-fucking-Wright (of Lonely Planet fame). Hell, that would be my dream job, getting paid to travel around the world, meeting tons of people, filming documentaries, and experiencing new cultures and learning new languages. Asa pa, chong. Never in my wildest dreams could I do that for a living; I’d be losing stuff wherever I go, forgetting to renew my passports and visas, and losing my way half the time, not to mention squandering half my money on useless shopping trips in God-knows-what-country-I-am-now. And, well, it would surely get kind of lonely doing that, huh?

So I guess I’m just stuck doing what my course trains people to do – climb the corporate ladder for a decade or two, get a hefty retirement bonus, buy a luxury car or four, buy a house in a certain high-end village in the South, settle comfortably into a retiree-cum-golf-dad lifestyle, and spend my afternoons writing my memoirs in coffee shops (which, if you come to think of it, is already exactly what I’m doing now).

* * *

I sure love enumerating stuff, huh? Commas, semicolons, and dashes galore, not to mention lots of subordinate clauses and parenthetical digressions. Deal with it, that’s the way I speak. Really – when I’m not mumbling incoherent bullshit, at least.

And yes, I’m cynical, bitter, and insecure. I’m like that. Try having all the girls you’ve cared about leave you for other men.

* * *

My next girlfriend had better love to travel, considering that I fly out to different places at least six times a year. Seriously. She’d better be up for spending whole afternoons walking around malls/commercial areas/what-have-you in exotic cities without necessarily buying anything; she’d better be game for spur-of-the-moment adventures, both big and small, in airports, train stations, ports, and bus terminals to random locations.

Okay, it doesn’t even have to be that expensive – I’m talking about spontaneous road trips to Tagaytay to watch the sun rise, or to Antipolo to gaze out on the city and the setting sun over a few drinks, or even just early evening walks around Ateneo to stargaze or watch people. Stuff like that. Yeah, I know I’m a pretty shallow person, but I just have to keep moving, experiencing new stuff. There’s just so much to see, so little time to do it.

Oh well, where are you? Haha. Hurry up and fix me. Please.

* * *

Whatever happened to,

I can give a thousand reasons
I can live a thousand lives
I know that I will always meet you
Underneath a summer sky

?

You tell me.

* * *

People seldom remember their first relationships. They’re always the ones that have to end, of the kind you get into knowing that someone better will always come along to make you forget all about it and make you believe it was nothing more than puppy love. There’s always going to be another person who’s going to come along and sweep you off your feet, and in the process make you think that your first was nothing more than an immature prick that you’re going to laugh about with your new lover. And yeah, you’re not going to remember much of that first relationship too, except for a few memorable good moments and a ton of mistakes.

Ergo, it sucks to be someone’s first boyfriend. Especially if you didn’t treat her like your first.

* * *

I was at Ponti last night. Tanginang Azzuri yan.

Oh, and Happy 420. If you know what I mean.

* * *

I’m graduating again this year, for what might be the last time in my life. My academic load is hopefully going to be relatively lighter than last year’s, so this only means one thing.

I’m going to party my poor little heart out this year.