Military Offense: Not Wearing Proper Uniform

In senior high school, we had a military training course called CAT and I forgot what it stands for. Anyway, we were required to be in proper uniform (fatigue pants, black shoes and socks, beret hat, white shirt printed with the CAT logo and the name of our school, black belt, white handkerchief and bun hair polished with gel) on school grounds at the hour of 1300 ‘til 1800, when the training session ends. We were required to stop, shout for signal and salute all officers that come our way, stand straight on both feet, sit straight, address the officers with Ma’am/Sir, be polite and to quit making faces and smiling.

One day, my closest friend in high school, Mae, and I were inside the classroom and was too lazy to attend CAT that afternoon. We spent lunch time inside the classroom singing in front of the electric fan and just being totally uninterested about the whole CAT thing, not minding that military hours is nearing and that officers may arrive at any time.



So there, at 1300 inside the classroom, our classmates start arriving. Good thing there were no officers yet and these ‘civilians’ have warned us of the officers that may soon enter the room. The first officer to enter the room? The Corps Commander, the highest official in CAT. Mae and I immediately run for the door and hid behind it. When the Corps Commander passed the door, we scram like little mice avoiding the big cat.

I don’t know about the other batches, but we were the first and only students who've done that in our batch. And we’ve done it just once. I am not proud that I have done something that only a few people could do because they are scared of punishment or demerit. I am not proud that I have refused to do what I was supposed and expected to do. CAT is a subject in our school that only the officers, who can freely exercise their authority upon the other students, enjoy. And maybe, there were also a few of us willing to be under their control and to just be disciplined enough to obey orders.

That day happened not because we were too lazy and uninterested of attending CAT. That day happened not because we were not disciplined. That day happened not because we want to brag that we can do it. That day happened because we refused to do something that we were only forced to do. That day happened because we made a choice – and we chose demerit and punishment over being controlled temporarily and obeying orders.

You know what I have realized just now? That I am only sugar-coating an irresponsibility I have committed. It’s the lack of discipline that provoked us to do something like that. When we’ve done that, we weren’t thinking of things such as control, demerit, punishment, and discipline, especially not of ideals and principles; we were only thinking of something more fun to do than CAT. That was totally irresponsible for students like us.

Maybe in high school, we were really supposed to submit ourselves to its rules. The schedule is tight and fixed, and school hours should be school hours. You can do whatever you wish with the time you have before and beyond that, but when it’s time to submit, submit wholeheartedly. After all, it’s all for your own good. Because in high school, we are still supposed to be ‘caged’ because our young minds are not yet ready to comprehend the complex functions and events of the real world, and everything life has to offer. We are being prepared to have all what it takes to surpass just anything and be strong. It is in those years that we think we already know everything and are capable of doing just anything, but we don’t fully know and understand the world and the consequences of our actions.

I blog

Before I wrote this article, I was having a hard time choosing between creating a new blog and continuing this one. As is apparent, I chose the latter. Why? Because even though I may be a different person now compared to the one blogging here before, I am sure that who I was before will always be a part of me and it’s something that has to be with me in my becoming.

So here I am again, after all those experiences – happy and sad, up and down, green and red – continuing the journey of a person under the control of her whims. The past, we shall always not forget, is and will always be a part of who you are today and the person you will become. Ok, cliché. It is something we should not hide, neither to dwell in. It is something to reflect upon because they are full of memories to be kept and lessons to be learned.

The title of this blog was not changed since I created it: Some Things Happen on a Whim. But it had before a subtitle, which I eventually deleted after some grammarazzi pointed out my error on who’s/whose: experiences and adventures of someone who’s under control of the dangerous instability of her whims. Initially, I planned to fill these blogs with stories from the past that had happened without long and careful thinking, spur-of-the-moment anecdotes, not-your-usual-things-to-do and yes-I’ve-done-it-before experiences. For some reason I don’t know, I ended up writing about feelings and emotions about things and people and forgot about my initial plan.

Well, like they always say, it’s better late than never. And since it’s my semestral break, I have the right to break free from the usual things I do and spend time writing about my past experiences, whimsy moments worth sharing and learning from.

I used to be a very impulsive person. And I must admit, up until now, I still a bit am. So expect random stuffs posted here every now and then. After all, some things happen on a whim.

“What do you think of snail mails?”

It was actually a test. And your answer would determine whether it’s the start of a new beginning for us or the end of those years we’ve been together.

I want to know if we have a connection. Something that only the two of us would understand. Yes, you will say I can’t generalize everything with just a single thing that came upon me on a whim. But no matter how impulsive things can get, if there is really something going on between just the two of us, we’ll understand, we’ll know without knowing why we know. That’s what I want us to have – that kind of connection.

After all those years, it’s sad to think that we failed to have it. It must have been the lack of proper communication, or the distance, or time. Or maybe, it’s just that. There’s nothing between us. No spark. No strings. No knobs. No hinge. No nothing.

No. It’s not that. I still want to believe that we have a connection. And it won’t come out in a single answer to my question which came upon me on a whim. Perhaps, this connection doesn’t come out of five years. Maybe it takes longer… just like snail mails, they’re slow in the coming.

*modified 07/03/2010

Brace

transitive and intransitive verb prepare for something bad: to prepare for something difficult, dangerous, or unpleasant that is about to happen
Microsoft® Encarta® 2008. © 1993-2007 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.


I just felt the need to explain why I had braces because nobody understood why. It’s my metaphor for the break-up. And eating is moving on. It is hard to eat when you have braces and so you end up giving up solid foods and consuming only soups and soft foods. But man can’t live on soup alone. Therefore, he needs to eat no matter how hard it is, how painful each bite and swallow is. And so is moving on, it’s a hard and painful process.

I don’t really want to have braces; but my teeth needed it. It has to be corrected so that things go just the way it has to and to avoid bigger problems in the future. In the same way, I don’t want this break-up; but we both need it. It has to happen, so that things fall in the right place, and to avoid further breakdown in the future.

The moment my braces are to be removed, my teeth will be better. It might take time but it’s certain that it will be corrected and be just the way teeth has to be – clean, strong and in the right place. Then I can eat anything I want without undergoing that painful process of biting and swallowing.

I have

I have four beds in my room;
Every night, I sleep alone.
I have three MRT cards;
The places I go doesn’t require me to ride the train.
I have 287 friends in Facebook;
I am alone most of the time
I have 16 bags
I only use three of them
I have a boggle, a chess board, and a tic-tac-toe board
I have no playmate
I have two closets full of clothes
I wear the same shorts and shirts every week

I have four beds in my room
There lay the stuffs I don’t use…

Do I really need everything that I have?
And do I have everything that I need?

Mind Power

When I was younger, I have always been sure about myself… of the things I can do and the things I can be. When I was in grade school, when people ask me where I would enter high school, my immediate response was “USHS,” (our place’s smaller-scale version of Philippine Science High School) even though most of my classmates would answer, “…kung papasa.” But failing the high school entrance exam never crossed my mind. Then, at my senior year in high school, when people ask me where I would enter college, my immediate response…? “UP,” though most of them think it’s far from materializing. I was sure I would get into UP, though uncertain if I can get through my first program of choice. But it was all planned, from the time when I graduated grade school as the class salutatorian up until I shifted and transferred from the campus and program I was able to get into to the campus and program of my choice. All of those were mapped clearly on my mind. Perhaps, it has greatly contributed to the becoming of those things. That I had put them safe and secured in my mind made them happen in reality.

But now that I’m older, I have changed myself. I no longer think positively of myself, the becoming of my dreams, and the mapping of my clear-cut goals. Somewhere along the way, something has changed. Or maybe everything has changed. My dreams have been killed.

That I have realized this today and that I am writing about it means something is going to change again. But this time, it’s not for the worse. Maybe I shall come back to being the person I was before but I won’t. Believing in myself has helped me get where I am today, to the place where I’ve always wanted to be. It’s a good thing I have come to realize this soon enough, when I still have time to steer the wheel and make better decisions. This time, I will not only believe in myself… I will become.

Crybaby

I’ve always been a crybaby. I am emotional, sensitive, and yeah, weak.

I cry over things that are shallow and I cry over things that cut through the skin. I cry over movies and I cry over songs. I cry over people I don’t know and I cry over the ones that matter most. I cry over happy thoughts and I cry over sad memories long past. I cry over cotton candies and I cry over a cup of coffee. I cry whenever I think or laugh or walk or run. I cry over almost everything…

Once I have heard, that those who laugh over the simplest things cry over the simplest things. The ones who are easy to make laugh are also the ones who are easy to make cry. And I guess it’s true. Because you can make me laugh by just pulling out an old joke or a weird stunt, and you can make me cry by just a word or even the lack of it.

These past few days, I’ve been crying a lot. Confusing as it is to me, I have no definite answer if you would ask me why. There are so many things running through my mind and I don’t know which of them triggers the flow of tears that run through my cheeks. Some things are beyond my control. Count my tears in. Because no matter how hard I try to divert my mind to the more important matters at hand, it’s as if my eyes have a life of their own. And no matter how hard I try to use my eyes to see the bright side of life, it is blurred with tears and there’s no way it can figure out which side of life is bright, or is there really is?

I want to stop crying. I want to stop thinking. I want to stop remembering. How could it be possible that I continue to cry, think and remember when I have stopped living? How could it be possible that while my world has stopped spinning, the world around me didn’t even notice? How could it be possible that my sorrow did not even alter someone else’s life?

One day, I will get back with my life. Maybe by that time, I’d still be a crybaby. But after this, I shall arise stronger than ever.

For the love of a sister…

Thank you is not enough to tell you how grateful I am for having you as my sister. Because even if at times, and there has been many, that I have been a burden to you and made you feel unloved, you have showed me that no matter how prideful you are to other people, you can forget that and express regret even if it’s not your fault.



A thank you everyday is not enough to pay you back all the things that you have given me, and most of all, your love which is inexhaustible.

You have dreams of your own but you have set them aside so that I can achieve mine. And though it will be easy for you to chase your own dreams without the extra load you are carrying, you have never given up on me and have carried me all along.



I can’t thank you enough for giving up your own happiness for me. Because you are the only one I know who can do that for me. Though at times I fail to make you happy, I have always wanted you to be.

I am sorry for taking you for granted before or making you feel less important over other things or people. I am sorry for being selfish and arrogant, when you have been selfless and humble. I am sorry for being the thing that stopped you from living the life that you have always wanted. I am sorry that you have to settle for something less than what you deserve because of me.



You have been with me, helping me chase my own dreams, always making sure I don’t trip. With every bump and fall, you have always been there to heal the cuts and wounds, and even the broken bones. For everything that you are giving me, you make sure it’s better than what you have. You have always been there picking up the pieces of whatever I have broken. I will make sure all your efforts will never be futile. One day, I will make it big. Not just for myself. The bigger part of it is rightly for you.

The Architecture of Breaking Down

Even at this time, I am retrieving myself through the rubble. The retrieval operation may take long, even longer than it should be. In the end, I failed finding myself through the cluttered, chaotic place… for the rubble is me: the once picturesque building has now fallen down into fragments of concrete and steel.

Once upon a time, I was robust like no other, standing with considerable pride and confidence. I felt like no one can ever break me down, for I was made of concrete and steel, resiliently bearing all forces acting upon me.

The architect might have fallen short of education and experience he needed. Or the contractor could have committed an error in the construction. Or, maybe… the force was too strong -- out of this world -- and nobody ever thought of its possible occurrence. Whatever the cause might have been, it’s beyond the point now.

I have fallen down, like a soaring bird that suddenly came crashing down.

No longer can I feel the touch of the wind or hear the discreet sounds of airplanes’ flight.

No longer can I see the horizon or the sun or touch the sky and see the clouds slowly move.

No longer can I see the world from above.

Today, rubble as I may be, a chance to be rebuilt is all I need. A chance, a small fighting chance. To carry on with life even if there seems to be no other reason but that chance. To carry on even if it’s the only thing you’re holding on. Rosetti was able to rebuild Ferrara, Leonardo made Milan better after undertaking civic improvement projects and many architects made projects of remodeling and rebuilding. But neither Rosetti nor Leonardo can rebuild me now.

One day, I shall be able to rebuild myself from these fragments, without an architect, without a contractor, without you. Independent, dignified, pompous – I will be the tallest skyscraper in the world and you will look up to me. Then I shall see again, the beautiful world from above.

Setting it free

Remember the gem that comes only once in a generation? That it comes rarely in our lifetime is what makes it so hard to let go once you get the hold of it. But sometimes, we just have to set it free so that the whole world can have a share of the brilliance it has to offer. We must not suffer by knowing what a beautiful thing we have lost but exult because we had the courage to go on in life even without it, knowing that you have the whole world to share it with. And when it’s time, we just have to open our mind, our hearts and our hands… and let it go.

The One.

I have discovered a gem differently cut from all the others. One that appears rarely in our history. Perhaps, the only one in this generation. I am lucky to have found it. It is more than luck to have kept it with me ever since, a treasure beyond being priced. But instead of me honing it to perfection, I was the one molded to become a better person. Not to be me. Not to be who I am. Not to be what I am. But to be the best that i can be. And the gem, untouched and unchanged, retained its worth. And that it remained as it is, is what made it perfect... and far beyond.

It is a gem I will forever keep for it is a gem that once you've get the hold of, you'll never let go. For and because of it, I have searched and found a stable ground where my feet should stand and my soul would reside until the end of time. This is the one.

“Who was your bestfriend in high school?”

Everyone thinks we were best friends except us. We never admitted it to each other or to anyone else. We never mentioned the word bestfriend and unlike everyone else, we never gave our friendship a name. We were high school classmates, and that’s how we introduce each other to a new friend.

In spite all these, we both sense that we were high school bestfriends. We spent most of the time together. We eat together. We shop together. We walk anywhere together. We roam around the campus together. We do most things we have to do together. We travel together. We do crazy things together. We were the best of friends and that went on until our second year in college, just until that night when the word bestfriend was mentioned in a question asked by a new friend to my “bestfriend.”

“Who was your bestfriend in high school?”

I knew I wasn’t the only one expecting my name as the answer, but the answer is not Tix. That’s cool. I am not the best friend of the best friend I have. That’s not fair. But hey, that’s life. Along with some other factors – the lack of communication and the geographical separation, I felt like she had ended the unfathomable friendship right at that moment when she mentioned someone else’s name. But after giving it a deeper thought, I realized that if she answered my name, she would have ended it just the same. Either way, she broke something within me and definitely, it wasn’t a bone.

Perhaps, the question is better left unanswered because some things are better left in the dark. But there will come a time that we have to face the light because we can’t just live all our lives in obscurity, without knowing what, where, when, why or how. We have to know where we stand so that we may know the ones worthy to be kept.

One word. Just one word. That one word steered the wheel in a different direction now… Something has been changed and it changed so many things. And we both know nothing will ever be the same and what used to be will remain what used to be.

I lead a happy life… everyday.

Just recently, i found out how i could be happy and what made me sad in the past years of my life. It may be fair to say that for me to be happy, i have to take away in my life those that makes me sad. But that might not be logical at all. I don't know exactly how i could be happy... All i know is that i have to be.

I used to be so eager about the future. I used to think so much about the future – what I’d be doing five or ten years from now, what I am, what things I should be busy with or where should I live. I was so engrossed by the thought of me working in an architectural firm, having babies, going on a home which I personally designed, waiting for my husband to come home, preparing dinner for my family, and so on. I know there is nothing wrong to think about the future and definitely it is not wrong to prepare for it. But by doing so, I forgot that I was living the present – I actually wasn’t living the present, I was living the future.

There are so many things that I want to achieve in my life and to achieve more than half of these things, it would take years. I realized that there are also things that I want to achieve in my present life, the most important of which is being happy. I was so lost living in the future that I did not realize how much I was missing in this life.

It’s not that I stopped thinking about the future, but I now think less of the future and more of the present. I stopped worrying about my how I’ll have my work done on time when I a client asks me to design something. I stopped worrying about how to rear children, how to change diapers, or how to make them stop crying. I stopped worrying about where to build my house and what concept I should be implementing. I stopped worrying how long I should be waiting for my husband to come home when I am tired and wanting to lie in bed early. I stopped worrying about what dinner to prepare or how to do it – I don’t even know how to cook! I stopped worrying about the things I should not worry about… or not just yet. Worry is just a waste of emotional reserve.

I live one day at a time. I no longer think in decades. I no longer wait for tomorrow. I no longer live in the future. I am happy today… living it as if it is my first or last day alive.

The unwritten letter

I’m finding it hard to gather all my thoughts or at least come up with a single thought and put it into words… and type it here. I’m sorry I can’t write you a letter. Not now that you’re asking me.

This doesn’t mean anything. It’s just that I can’t find the right words to say…

I think you know very well that I’m not good with words or conveying how I feel. It’s just the way I am.

Maybe in time, I’ll learn how to talk…

For now, I hope this is enough: I miss you so much.