ES2PIDO|Estudyanteng Pinoy Dormitorian

This is my very last entry for my feature writing subject. Pwe. I’m uber plastic here. Lol.

It took me only four hours to do this article (topic: Learning). The title suggests my lousiness to think deeper. Bleh.

This is actually our final examination–a freestyle feature writing. We only used pseudonyms with a short description at the end of our article. Yet even if I placed codenames, our prof said my article is very identifiable. I don’t know how or why. Maybe because they finally knew I’m an active blogger. Whatever.

Emo mode. Plasticity mode.

(**WARNING - Uber long emo post. ^_^)

————-

WHAT I HAVE LEARNED IN COLLEGE
By es2pido

My BA Mass Comm blockmates, 1st yr. 1st sem. Firm at 35.
Now, a finger countable 18.

“Anong plano mo pagka-graduate mo ng college?” Mom asked while I was busy solving the missing equations of Einstein’s Theory of Everything. Then after a spare of seconds I already found myself staring at my computer screen while pondering about the question seriously inside my head.

I always wanted to be alone.

When I was still young, Mom would contend with my relatives if I can go to school already. That was 14 years ago. They were like talking in gibberish assuming that I would not understand their vernacular Aklanon inside our house in Caloocan. But no, what I heard was I was the most mentally incapacitated creature in our clan; the one whom everyone in the family should grudge about. For not being friendly and for behaving like some moronic scumbag on the bangketa republic.

While I was the most stupid way back, my Kuya was the most anticipated—the exact opposite of me. He had early experiences in Karate and Judo because he was intelligibly disciplined and smart while I was the one who wanted wearing only my sando and my undies and called them “panty” then destroy all my Dad’s sculpture prototypes inside his 4 feet high cupboard. They claimed that I got my retardation for eating cockroach eggs and safety matchstick heads. Under the kulambo, I had the hardest times in basic Mathematical operations. Mom even tried to put my hands in good use just to catch up with one-digit additions on my Kuya’s textbook. But my hands just turn red with the pain brought by the fake leather belt.

“You’re not going to school yet, A-an.” in a motherly-accented Tagalog.

That was how early I realized that discrimination is not just limited to ‘parloric’ gay grotesqueness and blonde women—but also for the least Promil-nurtured, by depriving me of the proper education and the medication–of not preparing a “baon” of Magnolia Chocolait and 2 Hapi House biscuits inside a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles lunchbox. But I least cared and only had childhood jealousies.

Simultaneously pinching the bubble wraps of my Dad’s sculpture moldings, I boasted to myself loudly out loud. “I will be the best.” A gleam of light then shone upon me. Allelujiah.

For 10 years, I tried everything to become ‘un’stupid. Reading and watching a lot of cartoons, I mean. If there’s a new book, I’d read it alone. And then play with other kids afterwards. If I glanced on the pencils inside my pen case, I’d draw and draw until the cows run out of milk. Alone. I tried to be best in art, in PE, in science and mathematics, and in music. Alone. I became the school artist. I was a regular hide-and-seeker. I was a quiz bee spammer. I was a math wizard. And I was a showmaker who loved to joined amateur singing contests. But never sought help from other people. ‘Kinareer ko ang aking kabataan,’ that’s how they put it. I managed my yester years with educational and recreational activities to prove that I am not mentally retarded and all. And yes, I proved them wrong—and did it on my own.

But I was never really happy. For years I wanted to accomplish everything without the help of others because of the fright that one day I might not be able to survive in the harshest conditions of life. So I kept on learning.

For four years in high school, I was stuck on the disillusionment that not reviewing in verbatim our textbooks in Social Studies will ruin my social life. As if I have a good one. I became active in extra-curricular activities, participated in intra and interschool competitions and leave the school with a big banner or two in front of our school entrance. I joined a lot of organizations, became active in all of them and then desert them for so much frustration. I took studies seriously and my talent fostering seriously. I keep on learning and learning and learning as if I could be oriented in a variety of sorts. And that I have kept myself with the company of the best and the brightest in our batch, so as not to disappoint my parents and my clan even if they really don’t want me to be highlighted with such prestige.

I thought I’ve become a monster who could swallow up everyone on my path.

March 23, 2004, I was speaking in front of a white dressed crowd with my 5-page long speech sliced in paragraphs. Then I heard all the parents clapping and saw my mom crying for so much happiness. I finally had redemption and gained retribution with their previous belittling. Yet, it was not noticed in my speech that my knees were severely shaking and my nerves already wracking to bits, not because of stage fright but because of the graduation aftermath.

What will I see in college?

In college, it’s a whole lot different. It’s different from our high school setup. It’ll not be the same people I’ve used to linger with, to converse with, and to debate with. It’ll be entering a new community of people from all walks, if not, the extremes of life. Since then I started having doubts if I will be able to cope with the changes of the setting and the characters involved in this short story entitled “College Life”—if ever I can be happier.

When I was in high school, everything is mandatory, especially in the creamiest sections. Everything is competition. There, you’ll see dogs bite each other’s torsos for the limelight of getting into the honor roll. There, backstabbing is rampant. One student may speak ill against the other to estrange him and become the topic of discussion—to be ridiculed and become insecure. There, you can participate and collaborate. There, you must keep yourself on the pace of the marathon. But in my experience in post high school graduation, it’s a lot better. Happiness is crabbing and retribution except for the never-care-about-my-report-card students.

But in college, it really is different.

When I entered our very first class, there were some noisy people along the corridor. Mass Comm students, I presume, so I approached the pack one meter away from them. Then there is this one spur of silence upon my arrival. After a short while, one dared to ask.

“Sir, kayo po ba prof naming sa Bio Lab?” (Are you the Bio Lab professor?)

A few hours later, I found myself laughing with them by admitting I am 2 years younger than them. And then I though, “I think I’ll enjoy this than before.”

College is a melting pot of races and personalities. In short, diversity. Here, you can decide if you will take life seriously or not. Here, you can choose your friends. You can choose if you’re going to attend classes. You are not secluded in a room where dogs bite each other’s torsos. You might, but it’ll be rare. And here, you are concentrated on one specialization—the course you wrote in on your pre-registration.

For three years, I’m with a company of different people. There are clowns who will make up for the brightest of the day. There are the easy-go-lucky’ers who are not really that annoying but they collaborate with the clowns to make the day even brighter. There are silent types who prefer to chew their nails off than talking to the clowns. There are monsters, who either excel in academics or it’s just that their faces are practically deformed. There are smart people, and there are not so smart people. There are rich, and there are some who still can eat 3 times a day without extra rice on the side. There are ‘sociables’ and socialites. I was among the ‘unsociables’.But being with them, I have learned a lot of lessons. Lessons that I never garnered from all the literary pieces in our English Communication subjects in elementary and highschool. Lessons that I will only learn from good people. From truthful people. From real people.

The previous extreme years of my childhood happened to have molded the monster in me of becoming so independent in terms of my outlook in life. That I can face challenges on my own without having to get a greater grip in the realization of ‘pain’ in life. That I can live by just learning everything only by myself, like my Dad wants me to do. Indeed, I have achieved the satisfaction of putting myself back to our family’s map that there is someone like me who can be on top of the others in terms of achievements and mental capacity whatever. But honestly, deep inside me, I was never happy.

Because of Arabelle’s punches and Jopay dance moves, because of Ichu’s Janggeum talent in impersonation, of Kuya Butterfly’s standup comedy, of Daryl’s living Chicken Soup for the Soul, of Zeus’ proactive perspective in democracy, of Kuya Emman’s simple pleasures in music and humility, of Timmy’s fashion sense and practicality, of Emrose’s Pops Fernandez attitude, of Darwin’s being who he/she really is, of Aga’s effort to make history in vocal prowess, of Ces’ Chaka Khan ear-piercing voice, of Jhonatan’s logic way of ridiculing your truly, of Ate Rochelle’s unpredictable movement of her skeletal system, of Ate Gen’s generosity in financial assistance and cellphone loads, of Ate Nancy’s thoughtfulness in organizing things and mandatory ‘volunteerism’, of Leoni’s cellphones and boyfriends and agonizing dysmenorrhea, of Krizelle’s down-to-earth monstrosity in singing, of Jayson’s laughable defamation of people around him, and of all the teachers like Ma’am Lisette, Ma’am Joyce, Ma’am Nomananap, Sir Cruzate, Sir Anciano, Ma’am Lising, and all who thought I can be good or better without exerting too much effort…

I’ve learned that I must live to love other people and myself rather than being so much egomaniacal.

We’ve been in the good times and the bad. After graduation, I don’t know what will happen to me or to anybody else…It’s my very first time that I really gained true friends. That I learned that friendship is not compensating to class cards.

Now, I still have no plans of what to do after college. All because of not wanting to be alone anymore.

I’m not alone anymore. No, I didn’t learn how to statistically analyze the relationship of mass awareness to news & public affairs. I gained friends. True friends that I would long for when I’m solitary. That’s what I didn’t get in high school. That’s what I’ve really learned in college.