Of Work, Wedding and Wake

I have not touched this blog for more than a year and I have no excuse as to why I didn't logged in even once, didn't view it even once. I think I had a few things I could have made a post or two about -- I fucking finally graduated and took my licensure exam, for fuck's sake, the sense of failure during my graduation, the jitters of waiting for the result, the little visit to St. Lukes, the speech in front of thousands of teachers in Cuneta Astrodome-- but I didn't. Maybe there's a post or two coming about that. Maybe.

And this post might be mostly confessional, mostly illogical and mostly emotional in nature.




Of Work

On March 12, I finally was able to land a job. It wasn't what I really wanted. I actually still don't really know what I wanted but it'll have to do. I have to try something. The thing is, it wasn't what I wanted to try. I wanted to try to teach in a public school. As someone hailed from a public elementary school, I wanted to try teaching in my alma mater. A lot of complications came up and they're mostly my fault. So I tried a private school instead and I was accepted on the first school I fully accomplished the application process. It's a catholic school. I'm not religious at all and I think I'll be mostly  out of my league, out of my comfort zone, but maybe that's what I exactly need.

Exactly what I need to zap me out of this "hibernation" phase. At least I hope it's a phase.

 Time to face the reality. I had been spoiled long enough. Time to grow up. I had been given mostly complete faculty and I had been afraid to use them. Time to listen to the voice in my head. I had been not enough for me and I need to try to fullfill me for me. Time to face my fears. I can't live forever held back by my dread of failing.

I don't think I had really done any major failure but I can't help feeling anxious that I would one day disappoint me. Rationally, I know that failure is part of living, a learning experience. But sometimes, I'm just plain irrational.

I guess I'll just have to do what I can and swing it. Learn.

Of Wedding

On March 15, exactly 33 years after my Mama and Papa got married on the same church, my sister married my now brother-in-law. Only one simple word could describe how I felt that day. Happy. Plain and simple happiness. Yes, the weeks before that was tiring and my sister being hormonal wasn't really helping. But on that day, I was just happy that I had been there.

I honestly have never seen my sister more beautiful than that day.

She had always been the prettiest among us siblings, even among our cousins. Yes, she had been becoming a bit chubbier because of her pregnancy but that day, her aura was practically glowing. And I had not been more jealous and prouder than that day.

Seeing her on that simple lacy off-white gown and long trailing veil walking down the aisle triggered my tear ducts, for a short while. And A Thousand Years for her bridal march wasn't actually helpful. No, I hate Twilight. It was a bit of Merlin feels. And I'm not happy to confess that I was probably the only one who got teary, at least during the church ceremony because I know some others who did cry during the reception. :))

The gown was like it was sewn for her. And to think that it was the first and last one she tried on. It was the only gown she tried fitting. She went inside Arceo's boutique in Marikina but she didn't try anything in there. And a block away from there was Roy Anne Camilla's shop. She tried that ready-made gown and that's it. There were some alterations that were made (had to be adjusted for her growing tummy and additional lace straps). And that's it. That's it. Honestly, it fitted her more than the model in the designer's facebook page.

I have not really attended any wedding ceremony for years and being in one where an immediate family member got married could make you ask a few questions.

I know I don't want to get married yet but seeing my sister that happy makes me wanna know whether or not I could one day be as happy as her because I found someone. If I'm honest, I would immediately confess that I believe I won't. For a short while in the past, I was really scared that I'm a psychopath. I mean I have a few psychopathic tendencies but I know I'm not one. They fascinate me but I'm not one. I could be as emotional as one could get sometimes. And I know how to love. I love my family and my friends, as cheesy as that sounds. I know I could give my life for a few people if a situation asked for it. I just don't think I could ever love someone romantically. I had 2 boyfriends and they're not even a thousand miles near "love". I just don't think I would ever "fall in love" and sometimes, it scares me.

Sometimes.

That day reiterated that "No, I'm not a psychopath." I love my family and I love them more because our dynamics are changing. My family is expanding. I could love more.

And maybe that's enough.

Of Wake

April 6, I went to my elementary classmate's wake.

A week before, I found out a child during my childhood, well, he was 15 this year, took his life. Frankly, I don't know what to feel about him. It was stupid. He hanged himself because of his textmate/boyfriend. At fifteen, he took his life because of a break up and it was stupid and hateful. His dad accepted his sexual orientation after years of denial and his dad was the one who removed his body from the noose he made. It was stupid and heartbreaking and hateful and sad.

Last Sunday, I went to my old classmate's wake in a chapel near our alma mater. It was sad. He was just in the wrong place at a wrong time. He was shot in neck inside a jeepney full of passengers during a robbery hold up. They said that the hold upper wasn't really intending to shot anyone but pulled the trigger due to panic. I just hope that they'll find the culprit and jail him.

Seeing someone your age, someone you spent a good part of your childhood with, in a casket and lifeless could shake your core. His neck was hidden and no amount of make up could cover his head injury but it was his hand that scares me. And I don't know why.

It was sad and I don't want to feel it again at least for a few decades.

Life really is a fickle bitch.

We really don't know when or how we'll go, even if deep inside we know that it'll one day happen.

And again, the questions. I know I'm not ready to go. Will I regret anything if I pass away now? Yes. Definitely yes. I don't think I have done anything worthwhile at all. I still want to see and try a lot of things. But I wanna see and do them on my own pace.

Live like you'll die today. Learn like you'll live forever. - Gandhi

But hell, I want to live for a long time. I wanna visit the Angkor Wat. I wanna take a nap under a sakura tree in Spring. I wanna fucking see an Aurora Borealis. I want to visit London with my family. I want to fucking visit an Aztec pyramid. I want to get rich. I want to be with my family and friends for several more decades. I still want a lot of things.

Seeing him inside his coffin scared the hell out of me. And another fear nagged me. In my wake (hopefully not until several more decades) who will be there and how many will visit? I'm scared that not even fifty persons would come and that's just sad. Had I even made enough connections for 50 others to be sad for me? Right now, I really don't know and I don't really wanna find out yet.

I have a lot to live for right now.

And I should live. Yeah, I need to come out of my "hibernation".

Live.

Look out to the future

But it tells you nothing

So take another breath

-Icarus (Bastille)