Ashes

The howling wind is cold on my skin despite the fact that it is the summer. Strands of windblown hair flap on my face as I lift my chin up to the clear, starry sky and slowly close my heavy eyes. For a while, I soak on the warmth of my fondest memories…

The sound of my tapping heels echo on the hard floor of AS. I find myself in the East Wing, eerie shadows looming over every step I make. I pass room 121, where most of our Constitution Committee meetings were held. I look away. As if in a dream, I float to our tambayan, I am well aware that my feet are not touching the ground anymore. The APSM tambayan. If tambayans could talk, what would this one say? It has heard amazing conversations, adjudicated intelligent debates, harbored deep secrets, seen arguments, and has been the ultimate witness to the camaraderie and the bond linking the members of this prestigious organization. I sit on the dilapidated and well-worn bench, surprised that I seemed weightless. My misty eyes travel to the bulletin boards- the harbingers of the organization. How proud must they be, especially the one which has held impressive rosters of members, members for which the phrase “Because true gold is forged in flames” stands true. I stand up and run my transparent hands over the cabinet, now empty except for a few ashes here and there. I shift to the right and see the pole, the one to the left of the uneven stairs leading to the gate. This pole has been witness to every tear shed by each applicant who dared brave the perils of the organization’s application process. I smile fondly at the memory my own trek up Mount Olympus, accompanied by people who will be cherished in my heart forever. I lift my head up and my eyes meet a very lovely site- the enclave. It seems so sturdy, so constant. Many of my days were spent in this enclave. I now float on it and sit, and recall lovely memories that summon bubbles of laughter up my throat…

I open my arms wide, much like the position of the Oblation, and hope to embrace something that is precious and sacred of this organization- UP APSM

I hear my name being called… I raise my right hand in a forlorn wave and blow the sweetest kiss…

I open my eyes.

When days turn to nights...

Contrary to popular belief, I am not a wood nymph. I am a sorceress. I have battled dragons, the fiercest warlocks, and army after army of Roman soldiers. And I have defeated them all. Yeah baby.

"I wish I knew how to quit you..." Brokeback Mountain should have won the statue!

I’m in Baguio. I’m home. I should be happy right? I should be bustling about, savoring the vacation, and generally just be content doing nothing. Hell no. I hate not doing anything. So right now, while the Eraserheads CD is blaring on the background, I’m busy updating this blog and creating testimonials for everyone dear to me.

I hate contemplating. Well, nice and sappy things are welcome thoughts, but the mind’s eye eventually goes to the damp and dark crevices where ugly thoughts are hidden *painful shrug*. Some people generally get surprised when I get mad. Hey, head’s up. Just because a person looks like that someone who gets trampled on in sappy telenovelas- the sweet, soft-spoken, and vulnerable one, just because she looks that way, it does not mean that she is. Hell no. Far from it. Way, way far. I do have advantages though. When I get mad, I get taken seriously. That’s because I rarely burst out. Now, maybe, I would like to remind everyone that just because I had thrown some vicious words, given some chilling glances, and given someone that 20-degrees-below-zero-oh-crap-it’s-freezing-cold-shoulder, does not mean that I have somehow turned into a vicious man-eating monster. No. I’m still me. And a little bit more that is.

My mom constantly rags on me about the way I look. How I have not combed my hair. How I wear shirts with little holes on them. How my hair is so freakin’ flat (I guess she wants hair that jumps up. Huh.) How I eat sweets A LOT. How much I read (she worries about my eyes) and why I don’t like to wear contacts (the mere thought of touching my eye is inexplicably gruesome). How young I look (she thinks I could pass for a high school student). How thin I am, despite everything I eat ( I protest though. I am not thin, I am just “a person with a small frame” *quoting Mara and Val*). What else? Oh yeah- “Why can’t you ever be like your sister, she is so concerned about her appearance” Uh, excuse me? For vanity, my sister puts milk and mashed bananas on her face. For me, milk is for drinking and bananas are… well… never liked bananas. As for putting those on my face? Never. My mind goes to thoughts of puke and slasher movies (hey, see for yourself, mash bananas, milk, and oatmeal together).

I wish that there is a beach on my backyard. Highly impossible, of course, what with me living on the highlands, but it would be perfect though, if I could sleep on the sand and let the warm water of the ocean splash my toes from time to time. *dreamy smile*

I miss my friends. Back in that crazy, rumbling, pollution-laden metropolis. *slumps down dejectedly*

...And I don't know why...

I want to remember.

I want to sit on the road that I walked everyday as a freshman- the walk between AS and Kalai. I want to remember how I used to stand there at 7 in the morning, camera in hand, trying to capture how the rays of the sun make the dew-kissed leaves glisten in the early morning sunshine.

I want to remember my days as an ROTC cadet- welcoming the dawn of a new week every Sunday amidst a sea of red berets.

I want to remember my first meeting with my blockmates in the lagoon, our struggles through Math 17, and the happy times that we have spent together, pretending that we weren't scared and nervous about the challenges that we have to face in this rumbling university.

Most of all though, when I think about my freshman year, my mind wanders to thoughts of you, like a favorite book wanting to be opened again. How you waited for me patiently for three hours because I had forgotten about you. How you gave me the name "Angel" when we first met. How you lent me your eyeglasses because i misplaced mine. Most of all, I remember the way you look at me- the way that you tilt your head to the right, your lips giving a slight quiver that would eventually grow into a smile that would light up your whole face starting from the lips and reaching your eyes. Your eyes- endless black pools that could see into mine as if trying to reach out.

You frightened me then. I was young and rather reckless, choosing to stay with someone who has a strong taste for adventure, rather than someone who I knew was going to be the one constant presence in my very dynamic life.

You still frighten me now. I'm still young and rather reckless, though accompanied by deep scars that run through my body with every breath that I take.

But I want to remember. Most of all, I don't want to walk away this time.