Shakes Head

Conscience:  How's life so far?
Me: You call this life?
Conscience:  College. 
Me: Terrible.

It's so terrible that every time someone asks me if I am enjoying college I want to puke. I see my professors and try to give them the answers they want to hear. All I really want to tell them is that in a few years everything they taught me would have been obsolete already. The dean sees me at least once a week and tells me, "Anna, I am so proud of you." I smile and say thanks. What I really want to say is, "I can't wait to get out of here!" The guards look at me and wonder, "When are you graduating?" I want to tell them I am asking the same question. My parents ask me every week what's going on in college. I give them the same boring answers. Exams. Quizzes. Reports. Walk outs. Drama. My friends tell me that I don't belong in the college I find myself in. I cry on their shoulders and they tell me things will be alright. I want to get out. I am trapped in a prison of uniforms, no hair dye, specific black shoes, curfews, rules and everyhting else you can name that has made my mind go insane. I just need art.

Conscience: You need art. You need art?
Me: Paintings. Words. Colors. People. 
Conscience:  And you don't have that there?
Me: *shakes head*

Dapat kasi nag enroll ka sa non traditional college! And where in the name of Hades would that get me in this country? I am dying because the words here are words that have no more meaning and are just put together to form a sentence to get a grade. The words here are too structured that they have no life in them anymore. Colors are questioned or laughed at. They are viewed as rebellion or defying authority. No colors. People are too caught up with grades, love and little dumb things that clutter up their lives and then consume them.  And I try my best to blend in or fit in, but I can't and they know I won't. I realize that without words and colors and people who also need words and colors, I cannot function. Been stocking up on art books. Spending all my free time online looking for and at art. Reading words and trying to come up with some. Spending more and more time with people who can breathe some life into me.

Conscience: What have you been up to?
Me: Contemplating life.
Conscience:  You confused?
Me: Shut up. Percy Jackson is awesome!

The only thing that made me happy after a long time of feeling nothing was when my parents and I watched Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters last Sunday. I had to drag my parents to watch it with me because my friends are not into this Greek mythology thing. Yes, I have weird and sad friends. Anyway, I was so happy that I didn't even let it bother me that there were noisy children in the theater. Fine. So the movie wasn't as exciting as the book, but it was a lot better than the first Percy Jackson movie. Thank heavens! I wanna watch it again, but I don't wanna watch it alone. So I just might bribe some people to watch it with me. I am that desperate.

Conscience: Uhm. .
Me: And to make myself happier I decided to go minimalist.
Conscience: Will you shut up about it?
Me: No. Talking about it helps me convince myself that it's the right thing to do.

 Basically, I haven't started cleaning out my closet and giving or throwing most of my things away. I don't really live where all my things are. So am planning to get rid of tons of stuff this weekend. I've been checking out tons of blogs to see if I'm on the right path. Seems that I am. I told some of my friends what am up to and they all said that if I was throwing away my books, they want them. Parents don't really care. Me? Am so excited. Maybe by going minimalist I'll forget how terrible college is right now.

To A Mother

 To a mother.

To a mother who was never there to see me grow up. A mother who did not get to see me take my first steps or hear my first words. A mother who did not have to drag me out of bed to get me to school every single day. A mother who did not have to deal with my endless cries for more ice cream and candy. A mother who did have to shed any tears when I messed up or fucked up my life again and again. A mother who at the time I was conceived may or may not have been a slut, a prostitute, the other woman, a drunkard, a stoned teenager or just one of those people who got knocked up. A mother who if I meet now may not understand or be fluent in the language I speak. This is for a mother I do not know. This is for a mother I hope loved me. This is for a mother I may not love at all.

It may seem cruel and harsh for me to say that I may not love you. But think about it, love can only be given and received if the person giving it and receiving it is around somehow. How can I love someone who deliberately chose never to see me again? I'd like to believe however that you gave me away because you loved me. I would like to think that you gave me up so that I could have a better future. Yet, it could also be the other way around. You could have given me away because you selfishly loved yourself. You could have given me up because you perceived me as a hindrance to your own great future. I would be a fool not to take a human's selfish nature into consideration when contemplating these things.

For a long time, I could not grasp the concept of adoption in which those who want a child can get a child from those who do not wish to keep a child. It delighted me to know that I was chosen by people who did not have to show affection towards me. At the same time, it was a huge pain in the ass to know that you, a mother who is related to me by blood, could not find it in yourself to keep me. Sugarcoat it all you want. Truth is, I was abandoned and given up to a couple of strangers I now call my family. Although it took my family only five days after my birth to bring me home and welcome me into their privileged world, it does not change the fact that I was alone for a few unfortunate days.

If you were to magically appear out of nowhere or come back from the dead to apologize to me for giving me up, I'll let you know now that you have nothing to be sorry for. Everyone is fully aware of what they do before and while they are doing it. And apologizing is just a crappy excuse and a backup plan to make the one you have offended feel better. Scratch that. An apology makes the offender feel better. An apology won't bring back wasted time. A sorry will not change my life. An expression of regret will not make you or me a better person. Nevertheless, a sorry will make you feel good. So say it if you have to. But I won't forgive you. There is nothing to forgive. I feel nothing.I have grown numb to whatever emotion I felt or still subconsciously feel about my situation.

I question my choice to even call you a mother, but the word is used for any woman who has given birth to a child. And that is all you are. You are just a woman who gave birth to me. You acted like a conduit. You were a channel. A channel of a fucking blessing of a baby girl - me. You were a mother who brought me into this world to give me to my mother. You may never know how much my mother wanted me or how many gallons of tears my mother cried when I dyed my hair blue. But then, I may never know how hard a time I must have put you through while I was in you for nine months. I guess there are things you and I will never know but will always want to know about each other.

So on this very happy Mother's Day, let me tell you that this letter is not to thank you or to condemn you for what you did. This is not to make you feel guilty or to make you feel at peace with your decision. This is also not a hate letter or a love letter to you. This is me realizing that you are a mother. And for those nine months I was in you and you surrounded me, you were my mother. Maybe that's enough for me to respect and honor you because you were a mother. You were my mother. I knew your voice. I heard your cries. I sensed your thoughts. I knew you. And you knew me.

Nothing

I honestly don't know how to start this because I don't know how this started. 

There is no date to celebrate. There is no specific time or moment when the feelings started to creep in. There is nothing to look back to that will ever prove that any of this even happened. And maybe that's the problem with this whole I-don't-know-what-to-call-it-relationship. It was built on nothing. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it is nothing. Yet if this was all nothing, why does it suck? Why does it - excuse my fucked up term - hurt? Why do I feel that this is just another break up altogether?

Perhaps there was something after all. It wasn't love. I'm sure of that. It was a mutual respect and admiration of each other that led us to this nothingness. Trust was involved too which was broken month after month after month. Lies existed to cover up a multitude of hurt that came about from lies also. Happiness was sporadic, but we both lived for those precious moments. Fighting was our language through which we communicated with a passion. There were no rules. Anything was possible! 

And that "anything" happened. You got drunk. I got drunk. You flirted with other girls. I got drunk because you flirted with other girls. I smoked. You got mad. I said you had no right to be because you didn't own me. You shut up because you knew I was correct. I cursed you. You cursed me. My curses had no effect on you. Your curses to me scarred me for life. You stayed. I left. You didn't call me back. I kept on hoping you would. I said sorry. A lot. You always just accepted it. My pride got in the way. Your pride blocked the way. We refused to give way. I hoped. I hoped too much. You made me believe that I had something to hope for.
  
Finally, I came to my senses and threw nothing down the drain because I had nothing to throw away to begin with. There was no us to tear apart. There was no date to forget every month. There were no text messages to delete or chats to regret. A relationship status change was not necessary which meant that no questions were asked. No questions will ever be asked. There are no pictures of us up on the Internet that have to be taken down. There was nothing. There is nothing.

So what was that all about? If nothing took place and there was no relationship, what should I be feeling right now? If this was the usual break up scenario, you'd see me walking around like a zombie for days and I'd be listening to The Script. Yet this is not the usual, normal break up. This is not a break up. I did not lose anything, but I feel that I left something behind. Mixed and messed up feelings that should not even be felt are strangling my soul. Fuck. I need to wake up from this bad dream.

As I try my best to piece together some answer that will make myself believe that this was worth it, a friend suddenly opens up to me to share her own story that began with nothing and ends with nothing also. And she asks me for advice while I sit here not knowing what to say or how to deal with her heartache. Her questions remind me of my own situation. My answers to her questions are answers that I need to get into my brain and be convinced by. I don't have the guts to tell her that I can't even follow my own advice. I abruptly stopped replying to her because the emotions that came along with the conversation were too much to handle. I wish her the best though. And i give myself applause for being such a good liar.

I began and will end now with nothing.

Divorce Just Happens

A friend brought a book with pages full of questions with her to our church's youth overnight. We all took turns reading a question out loud and answering them. If you could have your own club, what would you name it and what music would you play? Would you help a friend cheat for an exam? If you were in a party and saw someone you wanted to ask out, how would you get the person's attention? The questions got more and more ridiculous until the last question was asked. What would you say to anyone who was going through a divorce?

The person who had to answer the  question was one of our youth group leaders. Of course, her answer was a mile long and several feet deep, yet it prompted several members of the group to react, to share and to give their own take on divorce. Some had parents who were going through it. Another was a child who had to deal with a father who was unfaithful. And one just wanted to know when to stop praying for her mother and father to reconcile. They said that as the child, you never stop praying and you never stop hoping for that reconciliation. And their stories about wanting their parents to get back together went on and on and on. Someone made a comment that the topic was so close to home. Well, this topic is what makes my home. If divorce (or annulment) destroyed the families of my friends, divorce (or annulment) gave me a mother and a father plus two ancient half brothers. 

Am not sure when I realized that my ancient older brothers were my mom's children from her first marriage. Maybe I found out when I had to talk to my ancient older brothers' father on the phone. Or maybe I found out when I realized I would only see my second ancient older brother only during big family reunions. Actually, am pretty sure my first ancient older brother who lived with us for a few years shared some family gossip with me. All I know is that my ancient older brothers and I belonged to the same mom, but we had different dads.
 
And I sat there thinking about my own messed up family and how we've all learned to deal with the divorce (or annulment) in our own crazy way. Some of us have learned to deal with it better than the others. But have dealt with it and continue to deal with it. My dad has a way of detaching himself from everything that has to do with my mom's divorce. When she talks about it, he just shuts up. Maybe he thinks that just because the law says the marriage never happened, he can pretend it never took place. My mom still has open wounds from that divorce (annulment) that will never fully heal. I know she cries about it and still feels its heavy weight. The first ancient older brother has pain we all know about but will never comprehend entirely. The second ancient older brother seems to have let his pain fuel his desire to have a beautiful family. And I may not feel all their pain, but their pain has affected my views on life and marriage.

I thought about how one ancient brother wished for mom and their father to reconcile and how the other ancient brother did not. Thought about all those times mom wished the second ancient older brother also lived with her when he was growing up. Recalled those moments when one ancient older brother would call my dad Papito and the other one called him Uncle. Looked back on those times my mom begged God to please change one ancient older brother's mind about marriage and children. Recalled all those times I would have to explain why our last names did not match. Thought about how my dad loves his wife's children even if they are not his own. Tried to feel the regret my mom is undergoing for having a divorce (annulment) and also her happiness that she is free from that marriage. 

Their talk went on and on and on as I tried to make myself disappear in the mess of blanketss and a pillow. Because what can someone say to a person who is going through a divorce? What can someone say to a child whose parents are divorcing? What can someone say to a child who has a parent who has gone through a divorce and has re-married? What can someone say? What can someone really say? Nothing. You can talk and talk and talk, but that may mean nothing because each situation is different and because there will never be a right or a wrong divorce (annulment). You can pray and pray that reconciliation takes place, but sometimes God does not listen to prayers like those. You can question and beg, but sometimes there are no answers. Sometimes divorce (annulment) just happens. Sometimes divorce (annulment) it is meant to be.

So I came back from that overnight depressed as ever.

 

 

More Months Down The Drain

So done with another year of college.

While everyone else is getting their grades, I am stuck at home doing crazy things. The second semester ended last March 22, 2013 and I have been on vacation mode since then. What do I do when it's vacation? I sleep, eat, read, watch, drive my parents insane, scare the neighbors and play with animals. But before I get so engrossed in doing crazy things, I gotta review the semester that just ended.

Theology Two - Monday and Friday 7:45AM-9:10AM

Basically this whole class was about celebrating life in a community of faith. Although this class was seriously boring and I would drink coffee just to wake myself up, I actually appreciated this class a whole lot. Imagine, I was forced to start and end my school week with prayer and praise. Of course, there were times I would annoy the professor really bad and she would roll her eyes at me. I didn't bring my Bible to class one time and was too lazy to borrow from the library. The professor noticed and I was like, 'Reading the Bible won't get me to Heaven. ' I guess this was one of those classes I just had to attend so that I wouldn't have to repeat it. Ever.

Take Away: Almost every meeting the professor would say, 'You should live your life to the fullest!' Fullest my @*$.

Humanities Two - Tuesday 10:40AM-1:50PM

What kind of schedule is that? I'd be in the classroom on time and the class would start at around 11:15AM. If the professor didn't feel like it, she'd end the class at like 12:30noon. We were always eating during this class. Am not really sure what the professor wanted us to learn in this class. The lessons were messed up and rather queer, but we could always relate to them somehow. I especially enjoyed those times the professor would just rant about her ex boyfriend and we were like, 'We'll listen to anything as long as it's not the lesson!' I enjoyed the final project/final exam for this class! My group had to give a presentation about clothes and I just put together pictures from my Flickr days. LOL.

Take Away: 'Use your knowledge about the person to make a judgement about the situation,' the professor would always say. 

Classics- Tuesday and Thursday 2:00PM-3:20PM

Ohmyfreakinggawd. I honestly thought that I was done with this professor who also taught Oral Communication to our block during the first semester. I don't exactly hate the professor, but I don't love her. I just don't get the professor at all. This class had too many surprise quizzes I failed, questions that had no answers, stories I could not relate to, grades I could not figure out and unnecessary stress I had to deal with. I remember not knowing what to review for the midterm exam. All I did was scan my scarce notes and take the exam. When the results came out, I was like, 'Thank God for stock knowledge and for Ada who is so crazy about mythology.' This could have been an interesting class if. . . Never mind. Looking back though, this class brought our block together. 

Take Away: I want to go to Greece! 

Philosophy/Critical Thinking - Wednesday 9:20AM-12noon

My brain would go dead during this class! During the first half of the semester, I was guessing everything in this class. I'd guess the answers for every quiz, I'd guess the answers for the reflection papers and I guessed for the midterm exam. I only started getting things when we started the debates! I loved it. I guess I was lucky 'cause I was always in a group with people who knew how to work debates. I liked the professor because I think he's smart. It's just that most of the time he was talking to himself and explaining the lesson to himself. He would start his sentences with 'In a nutshell' and we'd make fun of that. I'd make fun of that. Mica, Mina and I would laugh really bad in class 'cause the professor would make stupid sounds which we would later on copy. Char was not my classmate in this class, but she also had this professor for another class. We would swap stories about him and we agreed that he made our brains dizzy. To get me through this class, Char, Mica and Mina would make me laugh!

Take Away: All is well. 

NSTP One - Wednesday 2:00PM-4:50PM

Would someone please explain why I needed to take this class? How come this class is not graded? How come it's just pass or fail? I had to drag myself to this class every freaking week. Half of the time I did not understand the professor who taught the class in some form of Filipino. Did not help that all my classmates in this class were rowdy first year students. Good thing I had some friends who were in this class who were also irregular students like me. We got through the whole semester because of food, swapping stories and hating the class. The best thing that happened in this class was that we got to go to GK Enchanted Farm. The most annoying thing is that there still is an NSTP Two. Freaks.

Take Away:  None. 

Introduction to Broadcasting- Friday 9:30AM-12noon

I wanted to skip this class altogether! I have no idea if we were wasting the professor's time or she was wasting our time. I dunno if her method of teaching was wrong or if we just expected something totally different. I dunno if she taught us anything or we just didn't listen close enough. I dunno if her De La Salle University standards are higher or if Assumption standards are lower. I have no idea. It was pretty awkward when she asked the class if there was anything wrong and how come we were failing. As if we would stand up and tell her what the problem was. In the end, we just shut up and did whatever we could to pass. When I found out that she was serious with her weekly reflection papers on TV shows, I made tons of them and passed them all. The happiest we were during this subject was when we got to visit GMA 7. And then some of my groupmates for our final project got to interview DJ Jimmy Muna. 

Take Away:  Being in media will never be easy, but it will be worth it.

Scriptwriting - Friday 2:00PM-4:50PM

I LOVED THIS CLASS! <3  Before the professor made us write our own scripts, she made us watch tons of movies. Because I love movies, I would download all the movies she would make us watch and I'd use those movies as an excuse to waste away three hours a day. I'll never forget this class because I got to watch a really good movie, We Have To Talk About Kevin. There was this movie about Rizal which was brilliant, but I got bored. And so many other movies which made me go, 'Crap. I wish I wrote that script.' I got a partner when it came to making our own script. And we literally did not sleep just so that we could finish the script. There were times I would really yell because things were so off and lines weren't coming out of our heads. Coffee, energy drinks and alcohol helped us along the way. 

Take Away: "The producer is anyone who knows a writer."

Economics - Saturday 10:40AM-1:50PM

Curses! Saturday classes suck. Why do I need economics when my course is Media Production? Stupid. I bought the book for this class just so that I would not have to listen to the professor talk. Little did I know that I would not also be able to understand the stupid book which was full of numbers and graphs. Every Saturday, I would think of new ways to entertain myself during this class. At first, I would just count the times the professor would use his fuck finger to point at the board. After some time, I got tired of doing that. So I would borrow the phones of my friends and play all sorts of weird games. When that didn't work, I composed a song. And then towards the end of the semester I copied my classmate, Michel, and practiced writing with my left hand. Yes, that was how boring this class was. I was especially disappointed after I learned that the professor got all of his Powerpoint Presentations online. Like what?! O.o

Take Away: Anything with numbers bores me to death.  


At the End of the Day: I wanna say that I had such a useless semester and that most of my classes were crap, but that wouldn't be true. I enjoyed this semester because my friends made it awesome. =) 

 

Electra

Woe to Agamemnon king of Argos!

It's been approximately two days since  our class did our black light flip card presentation of Electra by Euripedes and I am still on what I call a "Classics High." In late January, our professor, Miss Schnabel told us that we would have to interpret the play Electra. Our presentation would be considered our final exam. The first thing I did was ask Krissa, our block rep, what she wanted done. And she was like, 'Kahit ano! We have 7k to spend.' The second person I talked to was Elaine who helped write the script and was there since day one. And the third person who knew about almost everything was Tricia who reserved rooms, made sure we had props and bugged people. Then, after those three people knew about the plan, things got crazy.

My number one problem was that we had no money to spend. I thought that the school would give us our 7k and we could just waste it all on props and food. Heck, we had to pay for our props, collect the receipts, give the receipts to Miss Schnabel and then get refunded for whatever we spent. My second problem was that our class was made up of three different blocks with three different schedules and people who could not get along or come to practices on time. And my third problem was that no matter how hard anyone in the prod team explained the concept to the whole class, only a handful of people could get it. Holy crap.

When I finally got my hands on twenty four illustration boards, I was all set to tell the class, 'You have no freaking idea how hard it is to make props!' It didn't help that one side of the illustration board was white and we had to paint that black or that the white paint would not glow in the black light. There was one week in which I stayed up late with Elaine, Pat and Phoebe just trying to get our first set of props to work. At 11PM one night, we dragged twelve heavy illustration boards to the bathroom of my house, plugged the black light and saw that it was working. Suddenly, my tiredness vanished and I thought, 'Wait till the whole class sees this!' True enough, the next day, Thursday, when they saw the picture above and the actual effect they found it in them to finish two more sets of twelve illustration boards. 

Finally, all (or 90%) of our props were done. The scripts were already given out to everyone. The actors already knew their lines. My problem was the chorus. I had twelve people who could not memorize lines, would come to practices late, would give me shitty excuses, would wake up two hours after call time and who gave me so many reasons to give up on them. There was one Saturday in which all I did was let those who showed up for practice fix the props. Another time, I waited for four hours for people to show up. They showed up six hours later with a lot of apologies which I wanted to push down their throats. But we still practiced as a team.

We had good days and we had bad days. There were days in which everyone was awake and cooperative. And there were days when I was on a yelling spree because someone was late or someone forgot their line or someone did not flip their card on time. A good day was when we could use the Studio in school to practice. A bad day was when we would practice in the heat and I had to deal with the complaints of everyone. A good day was when everyone in the chorus remembered to wear a black shirt. A bad day was when people in the chorus would wear white when the prod team had clearly told them not to. A good day was a day that no one asked questions and just followed. A bad day was when they asked dumb questions which I had answers to but I didn't want to waste my time explaining. A good day was when they trusted the prod team. A bad day was when they did not.

Finally, I guess it kicked in that more than getting the presentation right or remembering lines, what mattered was that we were one as a group. What mattered most was that those in the presentation trusted that the prod team knew what they were doing. What mattered was that the prod team trusted the cast to do their jobs. What mattered was that the chorus trusted their fellow chorus members not to mess up. What mattered was that the actors trusted each other not to forget lines. Team work mattered!

You never know how ready the team is until they perform on the day itself. The night before, Thursday, we had our final practice. Gloves still had to be bought. Masks had to be done over. Some props still had to be made. Last minute changes were made. Some of us had documentaries to cram and exams to review for which we would be passing or taking the next day. We were exhausted. As soon as I got home, I left my things and ran out to buy more props. Others did the same. On Twitter that night and early morning of Friday, some were still up reviewing and editing. Because I could not sleep that night, I got out of bed and tried reviewing. When that did not work, I went to school to attend my 7:45AM class.

Somehow, I got myself out of my 7:45AM class and found myself fixing up the place and some props. When Tricia arrived at around 8:30AM, I told her some changes which the cast would have to do without even practicing it. After Krissa, Chachi and I fixed some stuff, we rushed to take our written exam in Broadcasting at 9AM. Hell, I could not concentrate!  Right after the exam, I left the room to talk to the actors and reminded them of some small things. Another class was already presenting their presentation in Studio. I was pacing back and forth. The clock was ticking and it was almost 11AM. What did that mean? We had to get our act together and present our black light flip card presentation.

  
Sit down! Shut up! Stop talking! You'll do fine! Put your hair up! Wear your gloves! Stop laughing! We can do this! After yelling all sorts of commands at them, I was like, 'Heck, just go and have fun! But while you're at it, you might as well get us all a good grade.' As soon as they entered the Studio, I ran to the control room and stayed there. I watched from behind and prayed to anyone up in heaven to please help those nineteen people who were on stage performing. In around five minutes, the performance was done, but we had already made a statement. Sure, we had mistakes. But who the freak cares? We still got our point across. We had already showed everyone who watched who we were and what we were capable of doing.

Everything is still a blur to me. I heard them clapping. We bowed. Some professors talked. We cheered. We cleaned up. We went out to get our things and then Krissa came up to me in the midst of the chaos and went, 'Anna, thank you. Thank you for putting it together.' I was shocked. And touched. But that's the point: a director just puts things together, but whatever is put together is only good if those who are on stage make it happen. And so, thank you! 

Thank you random people who made this work like Pat Cibucao and Char SB. Thank you actors! Phoebe, Sarah and Mica, you were always early when you were needed for practices. You didn't just memorize lines. You guys also helped with the props. JT, you never complained or made a fuss. I like that. Mina, you had one line. Thanks for getting it right! Bettina and Paula, you did what you could when no one else was there to help. You showed up when I did not expect it. Thank you chorus! Micah, Ava, Klar and Kat, you guys were on time most of the time and took this seriously. Cool! Anna, I appreciated the fact that you always informed us if you would be absent. Chachi, you solved problems I did not have solutions to. Elaine, thank you for being there since day one! Angelli and Michel, thank you for following orders quickly and without question. Mhean, how on earth do you know how to draw and do lettering? We would not have had words on our props without you. Krissa, where do I start? Thank you for being you! Thank you for always caring for others. Mica, the black lights you lent us were amazing! More than that though, you came to practice even if you live so far away. Thank you prod team! Kai, for some reason, whenever something goes wrong, I know I can count on you. Paige, thank you for texting certain people to bring the things we needed. And to Nicdao, your ability to stay cool in messed up situations is amazing! You kept me sane the entire time. 

What a nice way to end the school year! 




*All pictures belong to my block-mates.  

** Kinda messed up, but I don't really care.