The Damned Drawn Question

The college days are over. I am now in the next stage of my life: adulthood. The realization of adulthood brought into focus the travails of my academic life which was riddled with ups and downs, gains and shortcomings, conflicts and compromises, losing and finding passions, championing and antagonizing causes. It was an age of crisis where political ideas and poetic dreams had bloomed and withered. It was an age of emotional droughts and breakdowns that made me question my own existence to the point that I lost my sense of self for my heart bled dry and made me believe that I was somebody nobody wanted, even though it was contrary to the dozen requests of some family heads to me to become their son-in-law, and to the handful of followers who emulated the examples that I exhibited.

The final curtain of my college days were brought down by my graduation and inauguration as a registered and licensed civil engineer. The anti-climax came unexpectedly just right when the climax was unfolding. As opposed to some graduates who were relieved and delighted that the arduous college life of theirs was over, I felt incomplete as if it felt like I departed prematurely from the university. It was all because of Telle-chan, Marie Christelle Joyce C. Alava. It suddenly felt like there was an act omitted on a play, a chapter removed from a book, and a stanza missing in a poem. I met her at the final chapter of my college life when she was on her first. I fell in love to her, yet there was an abrupt stop, just when things were about to unfold or wrap out or even wrap up. Here I am, still waiting for her. Here I am, still confused on her mixed signals.

That is why I cling so much to UP as much as I could. I did voluntary researches and extension topics to the undergraduate research that I’ve done. I sought to be a researcher and a faculty member of the UP. That was why I became so much disappointed when I was not accepted into the UP-ICE Faculty. I made a promise to her to become an academe of UP to wait for her to graduate (See: Missing You 3), so I was disappointed that things went away from what I promised. I was thinking that I should have pursued high grades back then, and that I should not have lost my appetite for high grades years ago. It was a regret not worth regretting because the past me could not have imagined that things would culminate into this. The past me could not have expected somebody bringing back the life in my eyes again. Nevertheless, I am still determined to contribute to UP even though I was not receiving any monetary benefits from it. The very thought of being given a chance to see Telle-chan again is enough.

After the events of October 2015, I hardly met her. She was busy with her org works and her livelihood. If I indeed occupy a significant portion in her thoughts, she would find a leeway within her busy schedule. But nil… it already seemed the opposite. My fear number one was probably correct. Maybe she just used me to adjust to UP’s environment. I set out to confirm my fears.

November 2015. It was the book launch of one of their organization’s members. I knew that she would be there. I bought the book and by the  counter, I indeed saw her from a distance, bonding really well with her colleagues. Realizing that my fears have come true, tears ran down from my eyes (Thankfully, it was already dark and nobody noticed.). Because I was shy, I can’t come close to her in front of many people. I clutched my heart in pain as the painful throbbing returned on a regular basis. It was maybe a moment of goodbye.

But fate doesn’t give up. Ambiguous signs were being sent to confuse the hell out of me. That tiny hope was rekindled as I wrote the Missing You series. She remained in my heart as this presumably one-sided love lingered on. Still waiting and even abandoning a chance to a new love interest, I waited for her.

When I was in Singapore, I bought some dark chocolates for her. And that was the token to our first meeting this year. It was her enrollment period while I sought for the University Clearance. That day, there was a scheduled pool match for me in the afternoon. When we met, after giving the dark chocolates to her, she invited me to join her on her way back home. Thinking about the scheduled pool match, I humbly declined. After we parted ways that day, I received a call from a friend, telling that the scheduled pool match was cancelled. I literally slapped myself in frustration. I prioritized billiards over her?! That might give her the wrong signal that there were higher priorities than her.

It was the time that people should be reviewing for the incoming May Board Exams in Civil Engineering. I was not motivated into acing or even reviewing for the board exam, for it meant that the distance between me and Telle-chan would grow further. In the time of lack of contact between us, in order to temporary forget the feeling of missing her, I focused on my data gathering. I still visited UP thrice a week to sit in progress reports of the ongoing theses of the Structural Engineering Group back then. I used that as an excuse to go around UP, hoping that I would get to meet her by chance, but to no avail. It was very tiring, to hope then be disappointed as those hopes went down the drain. I found a refuge on the Everybody’s friend in ICE who coincidentally was also gathering data from PAGASA around that time. My heart wavered into considering rekindling what I abandoned for Telle-chan. I tried making the Everybody’s Friend in ICE as an inspiration to ace the board exam, but still I was not motivated enough to review.

I met Telle-chan for the second time that year, in the solidarity event of those affected by the fire that reduced the UP Faculty Center, the cauldron of the Filipino literature, into ashes. I never thought that she would be the one speaking on behalf of her organization, UP UGAT. I was recording the whole event and she got to speak and I heard her voice again and I accidentally recorded it which I listened to over and over again. She remained lingering in my heart.

I supported her organization and their events with the hopes that I would see her again. And I did see her again, for a third time this year, when they were selling tickets for their movie screening of Tulay ng San Sebastian. I was dumbfounded that I didn’t realize that it was her who was calling me while I was playing chess with my friends at the UP FC parking lot. That gave her the wrong signal again of my disinterestedness. I bought the ticket and asked her if she would be present at that event. Even though she was not sure whether she would be available, I hoped as I attended the movie showing. I did not see her there….OR it was just that I failed to see her there. She was present, taking selfies with the actors and actresses, yet I failed to see her. Was it my heart wavering or was it my heart already being wrung out? I walked alone, dejected, looking back to the past (See: The One Who Joined My Lonely Walks)

Looking back, I thought that I’ve tried everything already. In the social media site, ask.fm, I asked her out for a date again. She answered that I must ask permission from Keima first, her “husbandu.” I asked myself: “Who the hell is Keima?”

***

The World God Only Knows

“Who the hell is Keima?”

I asked my best buddy Erik about it. He recalled, “Ah, Katsuragi.” He just answered me with Keima’s surname. I looked into it on Google and I found out that he was protagonists of the harem series, “The World God Only Knows”. Since the show was supposed to be on the Harem genre, I sighed on the realization that she was already deep in the anime world being a weebu or an otaku. Thinking that the explanation sufficed answering the question, I let the question hang for a long time.

…Until I accidentally watched one of its episodes on Animax. I was immediately hooked up on the series as I found the main character, Keima Katsuragi, very hilarious and relatable. A week before the board exams, I abandoned the thought of ever reviewing for the board exams, abandoning the intent of acing the exam in order to date the Everybody’s friend from UP ICE.

Since Telle-chan told that I must ask Keima’s permission first, I sought to know more about him and his world. It is not a typical harem type of anime, that Kami Nomi Zo Shiru Sekai. The characters were generically written like they were real people, with the exception of Keima himself, whom I found affinity with. This series provided heartfelt moments.

In Ayumi Takahara’s conquest, we were shown that being in love reclaims the confidence that we have lost. In Mio Aoyama’s conquest, we were shown that it is our choice to be happy. In Kanon Nakagawa’s conquest, we were shown that love will guide us if we happen to be lost in the darkness. In Shiori Shiomiya’s conquest, we were shown that we need courage in order for our voice to be heard.

In Kusunoki Kasuga’s conquest, we were shown that it will feel incomplete if we abandon a part of ourselves just to achieve our goals. In Asami Yoshino’s conquest, we were shown that it is alright to embrace our solitude. In Amami Tooru’s conquest, we were shown that all of the negative things will become positive in the end, if we work hard and remain positive. In Chihiro Kosaka’s conquest, we were shown that we can stand out and have value if we want to. In Jun Nagase’s conquest, we were shown that even though it is hard, we need to cling on to our ideals.

In Tsukiyo Kujyo’s conquest, we were shown that love can bring the beauty out of anything. In Minami Ikoma’s conquest, we were shown that it is alright to move on from one chapter to welcome the succeeding chapters of life. In Rieko Hinaga’s conquest, we were shown that sometimes, the gaps in the our heart which were caused by loneliness can be resolved by accepting the loneliness. In Shino Akugarawa’s conquest, we were shown that in order to obtain hope, we must overcome the darkness in front of us through force of will.

In Sumire Uemoto’s conquest, we were shown that the disappointment of not being able to help creates crevices in people’s hearts. In Nanaka Haibara’s conquest, we were shown that winning is not everything, and that losing can sometimes help us grow. In Aoba Fuse’s conquest, we were shown that only when we value something that we will find our own value. In Yui Goido’s conquest, we were shown that we need to defend the things that we value in order for them to not be taken away. In Hinoki Kasuga’s conquest, we were shown that being an example does not have to include hiding your weaknesses and frustrations. In Akari Kurukawa’s conquest, we were shown that the ideal will always be us pursuing the perfect but not achieving it.

I have two favorites in Keima’s capture targets: Kanon Nakagawa and Amami Tooru. Kanon represents the traditional professional idol. All of her songs were catchy (My favorites were: Love Call and Snow in my Eyes). She replaced IU as my number one idol. All the things that Kanon demanded from Keima were coincidentally the things that I would be willing to give to the one I love. The capture of Amami Tooru, on the other hand, was the parallel on how I approached Telle-chan. I would be willing to jump into Telle-chan’s world if that is the only way that I would get close to her. I’ll be dedicating a separate piece for these two as well as the other heroines and the Goddesses Arc.

Of course, we must not forget Keima himself. I understand now, why Telle-chan admired him deeply.

***

Unmei

If you think I’m missing someone from the series, you were mistaken. Of course, I would not be forgetting Tenri Ayukawa. Of course, I shipped Tenri for Keima in the Heart of Jupiter Arc. I felt very sorry for her, on how she remained loyal to Keima for 10 years, on how she loved Keima, so much, and for who he really is, and on how Keima rejected her with “There won’t be an ending between us.” I cried when I saw Tenri, disregarding all the danger, jumping over the void just to convince Keima to come back to continue, and when she volunteered to share the burden that Keima was carrying. But the major flaw which led to the downfall of her love to Keima was pointed out by her goddess, Diana, herself, which somehow plucked some strings in me:

“You live next door to someone you’ve loved for ten years. You must want to talk to him to spend more time with him.”

Tenri believed in fate, or unmei in Japanese. But Keima believed otherwise:

“No way! As if our destiny … is to get dragged into a shitty game like this!! We are fighting to change our fates.”

Heeding to that statement from Keima, I snapped back to the real world. Putting all the TWGOK discussions aside (I’ll dedicate some write-ups on the later posts), I resumed my efforts. So, last Friday, I found the perfect excuse to meet her again. I was invited by my adviser, Dr. Jaime Y. Hernandez Jr., to share my research experience before the graduating batch of CE that day. That day matched the day that Telle-chan’s org was selling their pocket books or zines.

There she was, indeed. But there were no stocks of zines available at that time. I lost my excuse to meet her. I was about to turn back and accept that this brief meeting would be all the reward on the research that I’ve done, when she asked me to draw some of the rolled paper containing questions on a plastic cup.

I drew the first question: “When was Noli me Tangere published?”. I knew the answer: “1886”. Then I drew the second question, “What is the meaning of Noli me Tangere?”, on which I’ve answered, “Touch me not.”. Then the next question: When was the first publication of a book in the Philippines? = Doctrina Christiana, 1593. Then came the non-sense questions which gave us laughter.

Then came the very last question: “Bakit hindi ka crush ng crush mo?”, which is a Filipino movie title. But it was being addressed as a question from Telle-chan to me. I dearly wanted to ask her in reply: “Bakit nga ba?”

***

Bakit hindi ka crush ng crush mo?

I went there with the intent of asking her out for a date on her birthday, which will be tomorrow, August 30. I can’t bring myself to ask that question. Maybe, I was just a coward, that is why hindi ako crush ng crush ko.

Even though the question hurts, I pondered deeply upon the question.

The answer was simple. To quote what Ayumi said in the final chapters of Goddess’ Arc:

What do you take me for? I gave it some serious thought too, you know! I won’t let anyone manipulate my feelings. I’m… I’m the one who decided to fall in love to you.

No matter how hard I try, it is still up to her to decide. She should be the one answering that damned drawn question.

Yet all of these useless noise throw me deeper into confusion. The signs were already clear. Exchange in correspondence is seldom as ever. In social media, I now belong to the non-special group of people who don’t see her status whether she’s online or not. I just occupy a tiny dot, not worthy to being even called a space, in her thoughts. Yet fate still gives me a tiny bit of hope with its maneuverings, that maybe it was something else, that maybe there was another layer. Those maybes were enough to carry on this tiny flame of love, even though it was already flickering against the wind.

But these hopes weren’t enough. I was strained to where I stand, destined to just look from afar. I tried chasing her but the distance kept growing. I was already tired and my body just wanted to rest to be at peace. The winds kept speaking of a bleak tomorrow awaiting. I was holding back because of that fear.

It is love for it hurts. But why does it hurt? It has only to work once, yet all of those failures in the past made me reluctant into crossing the Rubicon. I kept my heart at leash. I kept things the same way to protect what our relationship was to the point that I don’t know anymore what kind of relationship that I was protecting. What would be more regrettable: pursuing love only to fail in the end while contemplating on the actions that were done, or not pursuing at all, leaving lots of questions of what ifs. Is she really my Mariang Sinukuan?

Lahat na lang sinukuan ako, dadagdag ka pa ba?

No. That’s not it. I just refuse to accept that she likes somebody else. I’m just a delusional idiot who doesn’t know about love.

Or maybe I was the one giving the cryptic conversations and the useless noise on her.

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Becoming My Novel’s Antagonist

Four years ago. To relieve the miseries of my life and to patch up my broken heart, I started writing a novel. Into it, I poured all the regrets on the things that I should have done, my interpretations of society, the culmination of all the things that I’ve learned and postulated.

I was riddled with a curse. All the predictions that I’ve written became true: Me messing up with Myrtle, my projections on societal behavior, the deaths of key figures in government, and the emergence of a leader like our president. The protagonist of my novel: Eminencio Magnifico, was a villain: a fictional wretched president of the republic who was a downright lunatic, protected by a popular vote and cult of personality, killing those who get in his way. The name of the protagonist was Aquilino Eminencio VI, which I derived from our former president, Noynoy Aquino, whose psychological issues became a talk at some time in the past. All of Noynoy’s bad traits, whether speculated or not, were raised at an alarming level. I have also infused some of my hideous behaviors and jaded philosophies into his character.

To be honest, if I was not educated nor became immersed in the pursuit of knowledge, my sadistic streak would be extended to people, harming them. Through education, I learned to channel those sadistic impulses into other harmless outputs, like sports. To his character, I channeled all of the irrationality running through my mind, trying to justify the wretchedness of his acts.

I never thought that such character that I created for four years would materialize into a real person, in the form of our current president.

It may seem that my character took its real form to the real world. It may have seem that I have to assume the shoes of my novel’s antagonist, Joshua Alvarez, a student-leader who always hindered Eminencio’s plans. To him, I infuse my one style of writing which was deemed by others as rude: a scathing counter-rebuttal speech to every speeches that a hypocritical person made. To Alvarez, I put in my whole personality, my social perspectives, my noble intent, and my ideals, without the burden of obligations to my family (I made Alvarez an orphan at a young age), which hindered me with their their selfish cravings.

I envy those families who promote open-mindedness. I envy those families who act out of reason and not of social and personal cravings. I envy those families who don’t attempt to clip the wings off their members. I envy those families who don’t entertain insecurities among each other and instead encourage their members to accept their attributes and talents and continue on. I envy those families who let logic and reason reign supreme instead of ego and prejudices. I envy those families who raise children into becoming their own persons, and not puppets into manipulation. I  envy those families who let their children pay back the debt of gratitude on their own volition instead of nagging them into it all the time.

I was never a good son to my parents, nor I was a good elder brother to my siblings, nor I was a good relative to my blood relatives. But that does not stop me from being a good citizen who looks for the welfare of my country. Criticizing the wrong doings was never bragging. The culture and depreciation of education now discourage critical thinking in society.  I was met with resistance from the culture that bends values into self-contradiction, and forces people into lethargy. I was being pleaded to respect the views of people who have no respect whatsoever to human life. I was being forced to accept their definitions on the things that they don’t understand at all. I was being asked by an educator to let “miseducation” happen, to let ignorance, which the education was fighting against, reign supreme.

These things tend to corrode the rational and logical mind. Others mistook rational, logical, and critical thinking as ego. Let me tell you this: If the mind follows reason and logic, it would be willing to accept ideas that even upset the person’s current line of beliefs, as long as it is supported logically by evidences. They would admit that they were wrong if the evidence was overwhelming and logical. But if the mind follows ego, the mind will reject even the most obvious and simplest ideas stubbornly for self-preservation. They would never admit that they were wrong, and would commit logical fallacies that put foul  play on the discussion.

I was fed up with these self-contradictory convictions of others. They kept downplaying my stellar academic background yet kept forcing me to demand high compensations because of it. I was kept being told that grades were irrelevant, but when the jobs required high grades, suddenly they were telling me otherwise. Being a solitary person, I was being told to look for others, but when I was now looking for the welfare of the Filipino people, I was being told to look after myself first.

I was asked:

“Ano bang mapapala ninyo dyan?”

I have a simple answer:

None.

I am not seeking any rewards for the deeds that I’m doing. It is just me fulfilling the responsibilities that were given to me as I was being enlightened…being true to the ideals that our forefathers left…heeding the call of duty for our country.

I seek not be loved by people…but to keep ignorance at bay.

I seek not to entertain the people, nor entertain their prejudices. But I seek to stick and remain true to my rational and logical convictions.

“The cultured Filipinos represent not only their own interests but those of the popular masses who look up to them for leadership. This trust places upon us a tremendous responsibility, and obliges us to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. I shall be sorry if, complying with this obligation, I will incur the censure of the public; for I speak not to please people but to be useful to them even when I displease them.” -T.H. Pardo De Tavera (1909)

If I happen to hurt the pride and ego of some people as I convey my messages, I extend my apologies, but no retraction will be ever done to my declarations and statements.

It was being threatened by my family to being cast out, if I continue to do what a citizen must do in a democracy:

“Yes-men are not compatible with democracy. We can strengthen our leaders by pointing out what they are doing that is wrong.” — Jose W. Diokno

And.

“Criticism, we welcome. Distortion, we deplore.” — Jose W. Diokno

The statesmen in the pre-Martial Law days are the ones that I admired tremendously. The likes of Senators Jose W. Diokno, Ninoy Aquino, Jovito Salonga, Gerardo Roxas, Serging Osmeña, Claro M. Recto, Lorenzo Tañada. These people believe that public service is a greatest honor that they can receive from the country. Sadly, now, Philippines were riddled by politicians pursuing vested interests.

Being cast out? I don’t care. If sacrificing everything will prove my convictions and beliefs to them…on how I cling to those convictions…

That is why I must become my novel’s very antagonist, who looks after the people, who would make scathing indictments, which were initially intended for a fictional character who is Eminencio, who materialized into a real person. I might share the same fate as I’ve intended for Alvarez. I might live in voluntary poverty, because now my parents were threatening me to be cast out of the house. I am inclined to defy them. At least, if that happens, I won’t be worried on the thought that they might be used as hostages to stop me.

“Ano na bang nagawa ko  sa bayan para magtaas ng punto?” Having a voice and engaging in political discourse does not have a prerequisite of having done something. Active civic participation is already doing something. We will make full of the democracy that people have worked hard to achieve.

And now these relatives and parents of mine were clamoring for another Martial Law. By the time that happens, I will join those who would undo that folly, even if it will cost my life. At least, I will be true to my convictions into being like Elias of Noli me Tangere. I don’t have much time left anyway.

Have You Drawn Me?

How I Drew Myself (Click here for the original photo)

I wonder how other people became able to draw people precisely on their sketches. Some were maybe professionals and it was understandable that the feat was a product of training and experience. But to those who never drew precisely previously, how did they do it? What willed them to portray the intricacies of their subjects into vivid lines and shades of graphite on paper? Do they smile as they find what themselves have drawn resembling their model? What kind of emotion did they use to be able to perform such task? Is it admiration? Or affection? Or love?

I knew that it wasn’t easy to draw somebody, even the ones you love. Love was not enough in my case to force myself into drawing somebody. I have started to do attempts since 2008, with Leah Julian or Mikee Dalumpines. I just can’t back then. There has to be a certain emotion that an individual needed to be able to perform this task. I just don’t know back then. In the first place, why I have been doing this? It was until I saw my dormmate, Ian Biagtan meticulously sketching one of his crushes, that I’ve found my answer. Even though the task was arduous for him, which took him weeks to finish, he was in glee all the time. What sustained him was the thought of showing it to the model herself, which made him gleeful.

It was with that thought that I attempted again. I kept hoping that she would get to see this drawing that I made, as I was hoping for the subjects to my write-ups to read what I wrote for them. I kept thinking on the possible reactions if she happened to see this sketch of mine on an olso paper, which was beginning to resemble her. Her images were becoming ingrained into my mind as grains from the graphite stick themselves on the paper precisely where I wanted them to be. The last task to be accomplished was finally drawing her eyes. It was the most difficult task, for the eyes were the windows to the soul. It was as if I was putting the sketch of mine into life with her soul being incorporated to it. Her eyes kept melting my heart as it kept throbbing. If felt that even this sketch of her was gazing upon my soul, naked against the warmth of her presence.

After three day, I finished it. (I showed it to my classmates in Chem 16 class, notably, my groupmate, Frederick Jaysol Tandoc). I was eager to show it to the girl, therefore I brought up to her the idea of touring me to her hometown in Bataan. It would be the token of my love confession for I believe that it was the invigorated heart that  willed this amateur left hand of mine into making this masterpiece. I loved her. That was why I was able to draw her. It was an indication on how pervasive and vivid she was in my mind. And yet, she was not able to come. I was contemplating in her hometown’s church on what to do with this sketch of her. It was maybe my final concession of defeat to being heartbroken, leaving the drawing at the front aisle seat of that church.

For maybe 3 years, I was in a state of depression, thinking of the what-should-have’s or the what-should-have-not’s. I kept drawing her as a consolation. The drawings of her were piling up, but the feeling was incomplete. I was nowhere near the closure that I was expecting.

It was until I accidentally met her at the UP Main Library that I’ve found a way to get rid of the burden, by leaving the drawings at the UP Main Library. But things got complicated. My colleagues from my organization have found out that the girl was working as a student assistant in the computer room of the General Reference section of the UP Main Library, after busting out so suddenly, when I realized that she was the one at the counter and I was the next one that she would be serving, in their presence. That was their first time seeing me getting flustered because I was typically acting detached to them.

Suddenly, they were beginning to hold our org meetings at the main library. They wanted to see more episodes. I tried ditching them, assigning to my colleague, Leonard Burdeos, the task of leaving the sketches to her, but still they’ve found a way to force me to go. They told that they won’t be attending the duckpin bowling tournament that day unless I would be present at the meeting there to assure their attendance. I went there, but much to my horror, the librarian guarding the door switched with that girl moments after I went in. My colleagues were laughing their hearts out as they saw the uneasiness and tension in me building up as they were anticipating my first interaction with that girl after 2 years.

I was more horrified when Leonard came. That girl inspected his bag. Right after her inspection, he pulled out my sketches of her from his bag as he walked towards the computer room with a determination that he would accomplish his task, no matter what. I ran frantically on the pathway to stop him before he entered the computer room. I managed to stop him. Still, I couldn’t find myself going out, with her by the door. I was already 45 minutes late to the tournament that I would be participating. Thankfully, a librarian switched place with her just at the nick of time before I was supposed to throw the opening ball on the tournament.

I returned the following week, with no familiar faces around, neither hers. I found it as the perfect time to leave the sketches beneath one of the keyboards of their computers. It was a cowardly act, yet it delivered the closure that I was waiting for, which did not last for long as I discovered another plank to be driven to my heart.

I’ve drawn others, who became my crushes, like Erlyne Santiago and Kimberly Arriola, to keep me inspired even though the depressing factors and influences were in full throttle. I was also able to draw Jeshea Faye Abo-abo, who was my girlfriend that time. Also, I was able to draw her friends, much to my confusion. Now, I realized that even though I was not in love, I was still able to draw. That thought of showing the model what I drew of her was the remaining condition or thought that drove me into drawing. Choco Nery, a person who was once special to me, was first one that rendered a drawing of me. Yet, I wasn’t able to return the gesture. Maybe by the time that I was attempting it, the drawing was meant to be a token of reconciliation after throwing a fit of jealousy on her. The penultimate sketch that I was able to draw was of Nikka’s, and that drove me into testy waters of public opinion.

I just could not do it for a long long time, through Shella, through Karla, through Therese, and finally through Jezel.

I just accepted that time, that I lost my chance already to love again. Then came Telle-chan. Some years went back to me as I was feeling invigorated with this affection of mine to her. I regained my drawing sense. After a year, I was able to draw somebody again. Chills met my spine as I basked upon my artwork. It was one of her profile pictures that was nowhere to be found now (I don’t know why). I kept thinking out scenario when I would be giving it to her. In my mind, there were only two possible reactions or response: one was that she would be glad, as simple as that; and the other was that she would be crept out. (Click here to know what really happened in reality). One thing was for certain, it would be my token for a love confession. I was decisive again.

Yet, that internal conflict was still what made me reluctant even more, even though I was already determined to give the drawing to her. Even since she came to my life, words began to associate themselves with their respective antonyms. I was happy that she brought me back to life again, yet sad that the distance between us never seemed to shorten. I was optimistic into looking forward to our conversations, yet pessimistic on the thought that these conversations would end someday. I was determined to pursue her, yet so reluctant for I might lose her in return. I was expecting to be in content on being disappointed again. Love brings me joy but brings my heart to the wringer.

Come to think of it. How come that a person that seemed to be forever distant came so close to me? My heart was beating so fast to know that it was her who was more eager to spend more time with each other. My heart beat again when she initiated a conversation out of nowhere. My heart burst in joy when she asked me to spend the whole afternoon on the media services room at the UP Main Library with just the two of us. Euphoria was served when she was the one looking forward to our trip to the National Museum which was a date in my perspective. Moments where it was just the two of us gave the feeling that we were indeed the only two people in the world.

Then, what I have feared had come true. People who get too beautiful, like the stars in the sky, were meant to disappear someday. We began talking less. It was right after my indirect confession with that poem engraved on the back of her drawing. Maybe that put her on a tight situation. Maybe she just wanted to have a senpai who would help her adjust to the environment and culture of UP. It was maybe her intent all along on approaching me. I misinterpreted again.

Yet, I still kept receiving mixed signals. That “We Should Date”. Those ambiguous phrase. And finally this drawing:

All of these noises put me into confusion. I knew how hard it is to make a sketch of somebody. What kind of feelings was she conveying to the sketch? She said that she was being a hopeless romantic when she drew it. Why it should look like me? What was her intent? Is it just to return the gesture? Or was it something else? How many times do I have to give up? How many times do I have to raise my hopes again? How many times do I have to be disappointed over and over? How long do I have to contemplate? She was not providing me an answer as she kept ignoring my messages. Did she really draw me, after drawing me out of my slumber over and over again?

When Eyes Met

Look into my eyes!

This is what you might see when I am gazing upon you, when our eyes met, and when you got my attention. But unfortunately, you would be seeing me lock eyes with you hardly. The life in my eyes were gone. It is not that I have gone blind. But my eyes are not conveying anything anymore.

When two people look into each other’s eyes at the same time, it is called eye contact. It has been one of the tools of humans in communication, which is not verbal, yet has a big and complex influence over the social behavior of people. We can interpret many things. We can interpret the person’s emotional state using eye contact. Eye contact can communicate sadness, confidence, fervor, joy, rancor, and other various emotions.

And sometimes, eye contact can trigger love. Love at first sight is always deemed ridiculous and is often treated as a mere cliche. But love triggered when eyes met is maybe more believable.

***

It happened exactly six years ago, August 12, 2010. Remove the cat-furred mustache, and you can imagine easily how I looked 6 years ago. It was rainy like this day. The spell of rain brought haze in the campus, as if, the university was being hidden by nature against the disruptive pollution brought by the surrounding urban areas. I was a lively political science student back then. I was just being brought out from being an introvert by my dorm-mates. I was beginning to conquer those days with glee, as I began to comfortably mingle with my classmates, regardless of age.

Even though I was mingling with people, I knew that I was still detached inside. Their interests don’t always match with mine. Some of my interests were regarded as either geeky or eccentric. But my will was never wavered with these differences. I treated my social detachment as how I do my ordinary, since that was how I became stable. But once in awhile, right in the middle of my stable life, love gave me a magical tale.

I just watched the short animated film made by Mike Inel titled, “Draw with me.” It was about a story of a boy and a girl separated by an unbreakable wall of glass with drawing on the glass wall as their only mean of communication, where the boy, longing too much for the girl who he fell to, tried to break the wall, injuring his hand instead, which compelled the girl, out of love, to sacrifice her other arm for the boy. (Cue: Ai Otsuka – Cherish)

Since when was it said, that from all great things some part of it had to be lost?
Terrified of letting our hearts become one
I tried to let our bodies fill the void
I tried to mask my fears
But still, every single one of those days
You were still there
You were still there in my heart

If we could have shared a deep love, I thought
Even if some day, our time here were to end
I could imagine I’d be loving you for all eternity
Reaching out to you, forever

Love is such a frightening thing
That’s why I run from it, yet chase after it
Whether as an adult or as a child it makes no difference

It’s like falling in love for the first time
To the point where it feels like destiny
When you hold me, I feel this way
There’s nothing better than this… this dream…

If we never had the chance to meet each other
I wouldn’t be able to smile the way I do now
This year, the happiest moments I’ve had
Were the moments I could be there next to you

If we could have shared a deep love, I thought
Even if some day, our time here were to end
I could imagine I’d be loving you for all eternity
Reaching out to you, forever

I was so eager to share the film to my classmates that I downloaded it to my phone to have them watch personally. Finally, on the last class of the day, Span 10 or the Elementary Spanish I class, which was to be held at the topmost floor of the College of Arts and Letters Building. My classmates were sitting at the hallway, since the preceding class was still taking place. Then came that girl: Mary Myrtle B. Agulto. As I began to play the video, she also reached for my phone. There! Skin contact. Both of us felt a mild electrical shock as we looked into each other’s eye. (Cue: Elegy of the Dynast)

It was a moment, memorable enough to leave her an impression:

As for me, that was the moment that I couldn’t remove her from my train of thoughts as she captured my heart. But being locked into cherishing that moment made me chase that her who I touched hands with and whose eyes I looked into. She may have seen it:

If The Voice Be Heard

If you’ll fall in love with her every smile,
might as well be contented with the still frames.

In real life, she won’t be always light and easy to get along with.
She’ll not be as radiant through all the difficulties.
She won’t stay put when you do something off her tastes.
But just like the photo, she can be unreal to you more often than you’ll ever know.

Her eyes will betray her, they plead to be heard.
The photo won’t speak to you the intricacies..
Neither will the real one do.
I told you to spare yourself, she won’t open up to you.

Heed my voice, I’ve seen her ways.
She gives her smile to everyone.
How come you thought it was yours to keep?
Good friend, you were fooled.
people can never get all they’ve wished for..so why her?

-Myrtle Agulto

Tragedy befell as reality corroded those images of mine in her. I narrated the story on the previous write-ups, in the Dear Tel series. Since then, I cannot confidently make eye contact with someone else again, maybe out of fear of having that kind of love again, or falling in love again. (Cue: Understanding)

Batch Valedictorian’s Girlfriend

(L to R): Eugene Lacadin (Cum Laude), Erik Gonzaga (Cum Laude), Emmanuel Lejano, Joshua Agar, and Ronald Valdez (Cum Laude)

The 26th of June 2016. Sunday. UP Amphitheater. The place, along with the nearby Quezon Hall were decorated colorfully, to make sure that the overabundance of colors would make the celebrations more memorable as the University Graduation was taking place. Above the stage, there was a banner, giving a prosaic reminder, a simple command which is the dogma of the university: “Serve the people.”

UP College of Engineering Recognition Rites – June 27, 2016

I wonder on how many people would live up to this dogma. The student activists, the reds, were no exceptions to the question. Even though they claimed themselves to have been serving the people while berating the non-red ones for “inaction” (Actually, for the non-red ones, which includes myself, there are a lot of other ways other than leading the whining and carrying on an outdated ideology), it was apparent that many of them did that for showboating. My initial generalization was that all of them were like that, but a debate with my colleague who is now studying in a law school convinced me that there were exceptions.

Of course, those activists were already irritating the people with their demonstrations on the streets. Although these people, through their demonstrations, actually intended to communicate the perspective of being in a helpless situation which was full of grievances, the lack of connection from both sides, the arrogant I-know-everything red, and the ignorant I-just-don’t-know-what-you’re-saying-therefore-I-make-my-own-definition common man, devolves their efforts into just an everyday nuisance.

Being a former political science student, I understand and respect their ideology. However, theirs was not the only ideology existent within the frameworks that define Philippine politics. What irritated me the most was their assertion that their ideology was the only one deemed correct and absolute. It was an assertion made through ego and not by principle! However, I concede to the fact that their non-conformists stances gave them the charm of being a rebel. But still, it was often downplayed by going too much.

Many of my friends graduated with Latin honors this year. I was congratulating them sincerely while also commending their efforts. They were still treating me like I was academically superior to them. I just don’t have the passion to pursue high grades. They knew that. I lost the appetite for good grades, however, I never at all despised the system of grades being the measuring system of learning. I was close into living a Bohemian life during my college days. I don’t do reviewing for the examinations. It was my Achilles’ heel. I just don’t think that fulfilling and bringing up my endless potentials on the fields that I was deemed potentially excellent is my sole purpose in life.

The reason why I lost that appetite in the first place was my parents’ constant downplaying on my efforts during the earlier years of my life. Their stances as my growth threatens their status, maybe, out of pride, shrouded by a fake gesture of love, compelled them to their anti-intellectual stances. The knowledge that I was obtaining made me see through my parents manipulation. To explain further, it meant that I saw that my parents were forcing down their standards and definitions to me, some which I deemed politically incorrect, therefore I resisted, hence the downplaying. I abandoned my status as a child prodigy as I was fed up and discouraged by their downplaying and nagging.

Spending 5 years within the premier university of the Philippines, I knew exactly how hard it was to pursue Honor and Excellence, which is UP’s motto. I knew how hard it was to get high grades. Therefore, I feel the tribulations experienced by some of my colleagues to achieve and maintain their high grades. That was why I felt very bad in behalf of them when a notorious professor publicly remarked that “those who had bad grades were the ones really serving the people.” The logic of that statement was so fallacious that I wanted to puke on that professor’s face.

If that was the case, then those, mostly from the other universities, who were cutting classes just to do silly things, were doing Philippines a favor.

Those people that that professor were boasting, including himself, who were claiming to have been serving the people were often seen drinking booze at nighttime during school days. Some of the key figures of the UP Student Activists Sector were noted to be party-goers. Those images of them were feeding the ire of the silent majority to the point that their rallying cries were no longer attracting even the patriotic ones (Yes, they were different), and even reduced into mere hypocritical showboating acts. There were few exceptions, of course. But the efforts of their outstanding few were overshadowed by the hypocrisy of their idling majority.

Why do they have to downplay the efforts of those who get high grades? Is there an alternative at hand? Even in the most efficient meritocratic system and even in the society that they were envisioning themselves, their downplaying acts were deemed to be nuisances. Grades reflect to the individual’s performance which served as the key into opening opportunities. Opportunities were given to those deemed worthy. However, upon getting that opportunity, the individual has to prove himself once more at the field, where his/her previous marks were no longer relevant, to seek for higher opportunities.

Of course, I would be receiving backlash if I were to say these to their faces. Words like “who are you to judge?” and “you’re no different” would become the music to my ears as if the freedom of expression, especially when detailing actual observations, were only limited to them. Like I said, I practice Bohemianism. I have many pursuits in life. Grades are not my everything, however, I know that they are important. My lack of appetite for good grades includes the following traits: fast learning curves accompanied with the habit of not reviewing for the examinations (hubris and confidence take their respective roles); and running late, to heighten my senses, in classes and even in exams. That gave me ample time to do other things, in the expense of my academic pride. To remedy this emotional injury, I would stare at the pictures of the UP Summa cum laudes for extended periods of time. Tiffany Uy’s case was an inspiring roll. That was why I was also thankful at that time that the same professor mentioned earlier was receiving backlash for attempting to downplay her efforts (He tried in vain to devise his own measuring stick of assessing credentials, potentials, and performance).

This year, 2016, many of the Summa Cum Laudes were revealed to be some of the people that I’ve known of. A year ago, after Tiffy’s graduation, I received a rumor that a classmate of mine from the PI 100 class was aiming to best Tiffy’s record of achieving the highest GWA, with the standing at that time to be a perfect 1.00. I was a little disappointed of not finding the person that was rumored, because of two reasons: the batch valedictorian this year had a GWA of 1.03, unlike the projected 1.00, and was supposed to be a girl which was the description of the rumored person.

It was until Isaiah Paulo Lee’s speech on the UP College of Science recognition rites that I realized the mix-up of the information that I have gathered. The person that I thought was rumored to be the batch valedictorian was the girlfriend of the batch valedictorian, Mau Leung. Both were my classmates in the PI 100 class of Professor Florentino “Boy” Iniego. Prof. Iniego, who soon became my personal mentor, adviser, and friend. often called Mau by his full name, which I thought was his surname alone, thus the mix-up, and the late realization. That guy is a shy one. I never heard him speak loudly. What got my attention was the girl beside him, his girlfriend. She is of a Chinese descent and wears huge spectacles during class.

She was one of my classmates that I got a tiny crush on, which spurred me to attend Sir Iniego’s PI 100 class, which was one of the classes that I found interesting to listen to. Those encounters with her became the comforting thoughts which consoled me during the wake of the loss of the UP Alumni Center. Nostalgia brings back good memories of the tiny moments that I’ve shared with the Batch Valedictorian’s girlfriend, which I dearly treasured.

***

At a private resort on the foot of Mt. Makiling

I am enjoying the last stretch of my self-imposed break. After the SBE 2016 Manila Conference, I am taking a rest, while hustling occasionally in billiards. I try to make myself a test subject for the effects of indolence in the body. But I guess that living a Bohemian life does not include standing idle. I cannot therefore use myself as a test subject, like a horse being injected with venom to have them produce the anti-venom for the injected venom. Even though I was able to feel and resist the tendencies to indolence, I myself was immune to it, because of my will. Finding the cures through my experiences is futile. It would take countless hours of observation on the behavior on others , for me to devise the cure. Since the cure that I will be proposing will be on the final chapter, which I presume to be the 10th, I don’t feel pressured to think of it or them right away. The 4th chapter of my Indolence of the Filipinos in the 21st century will be a technical paper, for it will be tackling issues about the law, the conflicts that it was causing, and the balance between the convenience and conformity. The 5th chapter will be about the competition, power struggles, and the obsession of the individual towards material wealth. The 6th chapter will be about the culture of gambling. That is what’s in my mind right now.

I was also making computer programs which automatically solve engineering problems. I wanted everything in solving the engineering problems be automated yet instructional. I am starting to appreciate using the binary codes, especially in setting conditions, which replaced the role of macros or any other programming shortcuts that I vowed never to use in this endeavor. I would start from scratch.

I am still obliged to further my studies and researches. Now, I have to do cost analysis on my propositions on the wind speed maps. I have to do also wind resistant designs for the wind speeds that I was forecasting. The additional work just never ends. I thought and was thankful that it was over. But it was still the beginning. I wanted, for the mean time, to take a break to spend a 2-week vacation on my hometown, Concepcion, Tarlac. I have yet to finish that race-to-500 9-ball match with Kuya Edfer, with the scores currently at 50-46 in favor of him.

There were a lot of things that I wanted to do and finish, yet I was constrained into joining the workforce. The backlog has been piling up and my mind was becoming restless. My mind tries to make refuge by thinking of my tiny crushes. The sight of Mt. Makiling while I was relaxing on a private resort last week gives back good memories. It made me remember Ma. Erlyne Santiago, my crush back in 2011. During our camping in the interior of Mt. Makiling, she, being intoxicated, went to the bed that I was sleeping on. She was just still there, staring at me for a long time. Oh, those moments with my tiny crushes! These innocent moments are the ones that I sincerely yearned in a relationship. Another memory flashed. It was with Kimberly Arriola. Those memories of regularly commuting together to UP from España Blvd back in 2012. These were the remaining people that I can look back on in my memories without feeling any pain.

I just wished that these moments should come in bundles and from one person only. I was only given patingi-tingi. The same happened with the batch valedictorian’s girlfriend, which was still fresh from my memories since the events with her transpired just a year ago. The sight of a mountain made me remember her again.

***

A year ago. Midyear Term – 2015. I took 9 units that term (which is the maximum number of units allowable). I enrolled to Fil 40 under Prof. Wilfreda Legaspi, to PI 100 under Prof. Florentino Iniego, and STS under Dr. Benjamin Vallejo. I thought that that term would be just a breeze and I could just surge through these subjects without being serious or putting much effort. I have never been so wrong, because of that chaotic first week of classes.

The submission of the manuscript of my undergraduate thesis overlapped with the first week of the Midyear 2015 classes. I was among the last ones who submitted their manuscripts. I believed that the last ones who submitted their manuscript were the batch valedictorian of CE in 2015 and her thesis partner. They submitted it a day after I submitted mine. Tsk. That meant that the higher ups of CE were pressuring me more into submitting my manuscript by putting on an earlier date. That caused me to frantically cram my write-up. I knew for certain that they would be finding typographical errors. What I submitted was the third draft of my manuscript. The delays within my submission were caused by the following: the newly-found calibrated data of the pressure points from Region VIII, the commitment in competing my thesis in the 2015 Undergraduate Project Competition of the UP College of Engineering, and finding out that the evidences, upon getting the calibrated data, converged into one concrete conclusion, making the forensic analysis no longer dubious.

The ultimatum was imposed on me, with the ‘deadline’ being on June 15, which was also the first day of classes. I never thought that skipping the first day of classes would bring me much trouble. There was a homework and an announcement already in Fil 40, and Prof. Iniego was looking for me in the PI 100 class. The homework that I lacked was what caused to incur an incomplete (INC) grade in Fil 40, while Prof. Iniego reprimanded me publicly in class for skipping it for the sake of my thesis.

Well, those initial impressions of them would soon be washed away. Prof. Legaspi, although prickly in the outside and most of the times, and had high academic standards, was proven to be an excellent and interesting lecturer, for I learned a lot from her. She piqued my interest into looking further to the culture of the Filipino language. Prof. Iniego found that I have a broad knowledge in history, and became a good friend of mine, even offering his services to advise me and collaborate for the finishing my translation of Antonio Luna’s Impresiones, lending me his fragile 1971 and autographed copy of The Rise and Fall of Antonio Luna of Dr. Vivencio Jose, although those concerted and collective efforts from both of us went down the drain when the UP Faculty Center was destroyed by a fire last April 1, 2016.

Prof. Iniego’s autographed copy that was destroyed by the UP FC fire last April 1, 2016

Prof. Iniego’s syllabus was an interesting one: full of group reports and projects. He made us read academic sources about Jose Rizal which we never encountered before. His class was a fun experience. He was unexpectedly humorous. He gave us lots of laughs with his jokes, and his cosplaying (He and Sir Nilo Ocampo would cosplay Rizal, Sakay and people who do Zarzuela).

Prof. Iniego cosplaying Jose Rizal with Prof. Nilo Ocampo cosplaying Macario Sakay. That’s me (the guy in white jacket) beside Johanna Canlas (the lady in pink collared shirt), holding my laughter. (The photo is not mine)

He managed to start healthy discussions and debates about the chapters of Jose Rizal’s life, whether it was controversial or not. His class was a discussion of history that I was looking for, not a mere memorization of events or names, but a question of motives behind every person’s actions. Even though, I just lost the UP Alumni Center, I was able to humorously delivered a report about Jose Rizal’s Sobre La Indolencia de los Filipinos. I coaxed my classmates to do the dance step for the “Ako ay May Lobo” song, which is a children’s song, under the guise of being a Chinese exercise aiming to release the Indolence inside of them, which helped me further discuss the situation back then and the situation right now.

The debate about the Rizal’s retraction was also an interesting one. Out of 40, only I and Eugene Lacadin, believed that Rizal did the retraction. I believed that Rizal knew that nobody would believe even though he retracted. It was his final act of deception to finally marry his dulce extranjera. Rizal believed that his final act would not infringe his insurmountable principles. That movie Jose Rizal(1998) by Marilou Diaz-Abaya also shared the same sentiment. I’ve had so much fun in Prof. Iniego’s class.

Rizal’s Alleged Retraction Letter (From Prof. Xiao Chua)

It was more fun when I had that tiny crush on the batch valedictorian’s girlfriend, who was my classmate in that class. Sometimes, even though the class was interesting, my body could not provide the focus. At those cases, I would deliberately run on late in those classes, to heighten my senses as I could feel the tension between me and the irritated instructors, or I would stare at my tiny crushes to regain my focus.

I already accepted the fate that I could only look from afar from these crushes of mine. Just catching momentary glimpses of them was enough. That was enough to give me the inspiration. I accepted my fate of not having the chance to interact with them, and so was to her. Heaven and Earth, that was the set-up.

But a miracle came, when we went to Dolores, Quezon to meet with the Rizalistas, the people who worshiped Dr. Jose Rizal. The batch valedictorian’s girlfriend became one of my group-mates. That means that I would get to interact with her! What a stroke of luck in those turns of events!

Inside the church of one of the religious sects. (The photo is not mine)

I would not give specific information about the Rizalistas here. I would only be giving a quick overview. The Rizalistas was not just a single religious sect. There were tons of them, but we could still classify them into three based on their fundamental doctrine: Rizal being the Heavenly Father, Rizal being the Heavenly Son, and Rizal being part of the Holy Spirit. Honestly, these religious sects were well-founded and their doctrines and history were very logical unlike the one along the intersection of Central Ave. and Commonwealth Ave, and another who has an “Appointed son of God”. And the Rizalistas generally worship the name and not the figurines.

The discussions and orientation meeting continued on until suddenly, one of the benches broke in half. Was it a divine intervention as my classmates were persistently asking the pastor of the name of God, derived from the alleged Latin name of Jose Rizal? Nope. It was just the weight of those sitting there doing its science. Engineering stuff.

We set out first on the cold downstream of Mt. Banahaw’s sacred brooks. We took a dip in groups in the water to signify the start of the sacred journey. We formed a circle, and held hands, as Prof. Iniego chanted the prayer. And guess who was beside me? The batch valedictorian’s girlfriend! I was the one who held her hand! My other hand was holding my glasses, which became foggy after they were dipped into the cold waters. It was a strange sensation. Honestly, I’ve already forgotten the feeling of holding hands with a girl. I knew that I felt her silky and cold hand, but there was more to that feeling which I couldn’t describe. I may have touched an angel!

I just couldn’t shake the feeling on my left hand, the hand which held her hand, as we continue on to the journey. We went to the remote churches of some small Rizalista sects deep in the mountains. We went to the counterpart of Jesus’s episode on the crown of thorns, the section of the mountain full of thorny rocks. There we found Prof. Iniego cosplaying a Rizalista hermit, wearing a wig. He was so humorous that we couldn’t maintain the serenity and solemnity of the event, each of us trying desperately to hold our laughter.

The climbing the mountain was relatively easy to me, because of my past experiences in climbing and trekking during my childhood days. I was always waiting for my group-mates and even our guide to catch up. The only one catching up at a commendable rate was Johanna. The rest were three minutes behind. Then came the Husgado, the tricky cave in the mountain which was proven difficult to squeeze through. It was said that sinners would suffer physical wounds after going through it. I was the first one in our group to go through, with the intent of assisting my group-mates inside. The midsection was the hardest part to squeeze through. I still managed to get through unscathed. But then I went back inside to assist the others. I was beginning to doubt the legend about it as I was assisting my group-mates, by giving them the lift to scale a difficult vertical section of the tiny cave. I offered my assistance up to the batch valedictorian’s girlfriend. The guy next to her, who was obviously pathetically trying to look good on her, refused my assistance. And so I climbed ahead of him, who injured his foot as he squeezed through alone, right behind the batch valedictorian’s girlfriend whom I assisted on the final hurdle. I was too focused at her that I failed to see a spiky rock overhang. I banged my head to it, making me believe to the Husgado’s legend once more.

Husgado Cave (From: spc2k13group01megaproject.blogspot.com)

We reached the summit of Mt. Kalabaryo around 4 in the afternoon. There was no wind at the top. It was humid. We were sweating lots. We were feeling soggy. But the unpleasant feeling and exhaustion were compensated by the view of the Tayabas Bay on the south, Mt. Cristobal on the north, and the vast prominent figure of Mt. Banahaw on the East. There a cross mounted on a concrete pedestal stood. Ten meters away, a smaller monument stood, with the following words engraved: “Jove Rex Al” (Jove is the Latin term for Jehovah, Rex is the Latin word for King, and Al is the Latin word which means “Everything”), which is the alleged Latin name of Jose Rizal (Jose Rizal was the “christianized” version of the name as he was baptized).

The injury suffered by the guy mentioned earlier caused problems and our group had to split into two: I leading the leading party and the guide leading the lagging party. I sent my party along with the other groups by the time we reached a familiar check point. I set out alone to look for the lagging party. I have two reasons for setting out alone: first was that the batch valedictorian’s girlfriend was in the lagging party, and the other was that I was the one responsible for splitting the group into two. It was a daunting task: Trekking alone in the darkening dense and presumably enchanted forest of Mt. Banahaw. I have confidence in my navigation skills. I never lost my bearings. After twenty minutes of backtracking, I found the lagging party. Although it was not necessary, I led the way to the waiting shed. That was the time that I let my guard down. I lost my bearings, and almost went over a cliff. Thankfully, the guide was there to warn me about the blunder that I was about to take.

They decided to rest at the familiar mountain shed. But nighttime was approaching. Walking in the dark was perilous to a guy wearing correction glasses. I decided to move swiftly with another guide(who was in the hurry to the toilet) in the mossy and slippery unknown trail. We moved at an alarmingly fast rate. The trail was steep and full of forks. I just believed in my instincts and the familiarity of my company to the mountain. Downhill was the only direction and we managed to reach civilization after 30 minutes.

I immediately took a bath, and took a short rest. The rest, the lagging group came an hour later. We ate our dinner. Some of my group-mates joined the party being held by Prof. Iniego. I managed to finish some of the writings that was pending, like the Filipino adaptation of “One Day More” and “Stars” of Les Miserables musical. Prof. Iniego invited me to join the party. But I was not a party-goer and not into partying, so I declined. I requested instead for permission to play in the only pool hall in the community, which he approved. I played billiards until a hour later when the guide assigned to us told me to stay within my group in the quarters, a repercussion of blunder that I made into splitting the group. Around 10 pm, our group slept to ready ourselves for tomorrow’s activities.

The next morning, around dawn, I was being waken up by somebody. I opened up my eyes. I was flustered to see that the one walking me up was the batch valedictorian’s girlfriend! She was smiling at me! To embellish it more, the light of the rising sun made her face shine brighter. Was I in heaven that time? Honestly, these were the tiny acts that I was yearning on a relationship, like when I and Choco rode a bike together, where she rested her head upon my back, when somebody rested her head against my shoulder, when Ara del Rosario, the girl that my Kalai dormmates were having a crush on, gave me a full hug, after helping her to pass the PE Placement Exam to be able to graduate. Why give it in patingi-tingi? Those tiny wishes of mine became a gloomy sigh as my heart grew bleaker by the day. Am I allowed to be happy?

Those thought ran in my mind as the event progressed and faded. I smiled back at her. Our group took our breakfast. We rode on top of a jeepney towards another community at the foot of Mt. Banahaw. We went through another tight cave, partly submerged in water. It was pitch dark, and no lights were allowed initially, until the section of the cave where an “initiation” started. The person ahead of me had to drop three candle drops on my arm, and I shouted expletives inside the cave, clearly violating the sacredness of the place. I was a bit of a sadist when it was my turn to do the initiation (I somehow understand the mindset of those who do the hazing on fraternities and sororities) on Johanna, the person who’s next to me. We emerged at the exit. There, we went through a baptism ceremony. Then we went to the “College of Saints”, another sacred ground. Then to the falls, where jumping on a 15-foot cliff to the 12-foot deep waters was the final act of the religious journey.

Then there’s this and there’s that. Of course, reality has to sink in, crushing all other romantic hopes. I accepted that in the beginning, but I can’t stop myself from sighing at the sight of her reuniting with her boyfriend, the 2016 Batch Valedictorian, who was in the other group. “What a lucky guy,” I muttered.

***

No offense was intended to the batch valedictorian for making his girlfriend the subject of this write-up, nor to his girlfriend. All I have to him were praises and wishes of good luck. He deserved his achievement and so was his girlfriend. He is a very lucky guy. He’s gotten the lyre chanting the Holy See, without the Holy. (There goes my clue.) His achievements made me regret of deliberately having bad grades, which cause me to lose my bid to become a member of faculty of the Institute of Civil Engineering of UP Diliman, after finding out that grades were the main basis in their ranking systems, a little more.

If he happened to read this write-up and began trying to remember me from his memories on Sir Iniego’s class, he has to remember that I was the guy who was given the role of Simoun in the class. It was a fateful coincidence for I really might turn into the likes of Simoun in the future. Just imagine me speaking in Joel Torre’s raspy voice.

Introduction – The Conjugal Dictatorship of Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos – Primitivo Mijares

Book Cover – The Conjugal Dictatorship of Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos

This book is unfinished. The Filipino people shall finish it for me.

I wrote this volume very, very slowly. I could have done with it in three months after my defection from the conjugal dictatorship of Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos on February 20,1975. Instead, I found myself availing of every excuse to slow it down. A close associate, Marcelino P. Sarmiento, even warned me, “Baka mapanis ’yan.” (Your book could become stale.)

While I availed of almost any excuse not to finish the manuscript of this volume, I felt the tangible voices of amuted people back home in the Philippines beckoning to me from across the vast Pacific Ocean. In whichever way I turned, I was confronted by the distraught images of the Filipino multitudes crying out to me to finish this work, lest the frailty of human memory — or any incident a la Nalundasan – consign to oblivion the matters I had in mind to form the vital parts of this book. It was as if the Filipino multitudes and history itself were surging in an endless wave presenting a compelling demand on me to  perpetuate the personal knowledge I have gained on the infamous machinations of Ferdinand E. Marcos and his overly ambitious wife, Imelda, that led to a day of infamy in my country, that Black Friday on September 22, 1972, when martial law was declared as a means to establish history’s first conjugal dictatorship. The sense of urgency in finishing this work was also goaded by the thought that Marcos does not have eternal life and that the Filipino people are of unimaginable forgiving posture. I thought that, if I did not perpetuate this work for posterity, Marcos might unduly benefit from a Laurelian statement that, when a man dies, the virtues of his past are magnified and his faults are reduced to molehills.

This is a book for which so much has been offered and done by Marcos and his minions so that it would never see the light of print. Now that it is off the press. I entertain greater fear that so much more will be done to prevent its circulation, not only in the Philippines but also in the United States.

But this work now belongs to history. Let it speak for itself in the context of developments within the coming months or years. Although it finds great relevance in the present life of the present life of the Filipinos and of Americans interested in the study of subversion of democratic governments by apparently legal means, this work seeks to find its proper niche in history which must inevitably render its judgment on the seizure of government power from the people by a lame duck Philippine President.

If I had finished this work immediately after my defection from the totalitarian regime of Ferdinand and Imelda, or after the vicious campaign of the dictatorship to vilify me in July-August. 1975, then I could have done so only in anger. Anger did influence my production of certain portions of the manuscript. However, as I put the finishing touches to my work, I found myself expurgating it of the personal venom, the virulence and intemperate language of my original draft.

Some of the materials that went into this work had been of public knowledge in the Philippines. If I had used them, it was with the intention of utilizing them as links to heretofore unrevealed facets of the various ruses that Marcos employed to establish his dictatorship.

Now, I have kept faith with the Filipino people. I have kept my rendezvous with history. I have, with this work, discharged my obligation to myself, my profession of journalism, my family and my country.

I had one other compelling reason for coming out with this work at the great risks of being uprooted from my beloved country, of forced separation from my wife and children and losing their affection, and of losing everything I have in my name in the Philippines — or losing life itself. It is that I wanted to make a public expiation for the little influence that I had exercised on the late Don Eugenio Lopez into handpicking a certain Ferdinand E. Marcos as his candidate for the presidency of the Philippines in the elections of 1965. Would the Filipinos be suffering from a conjugal dictatorship now, if I had not originally planted in Lopez’s consciousness in 1962 that Marcos was the “unbeatable candidate” for 1965?

To the remaining democracies all over the world, this book is offered us a case study on how a democratically-elected President could operate within the legal system and yet succeed in subverting that democracy in order to perpetuate himself and his wife as conjugal dictators.

I entertain no illusions that my puny work would dislodge Ferdinand and Imelda from their concededly entrenched position. However, history teaches us that dictators always fall, either on account of their own corrupt weight or sheer physical exhaustion. I am hopeful that this work would somehow set off, or contribute to the ignition, of a chain reaction that would compel Marcos to relinquish his vise-like dictatorial grip on his own countrymen.

When the Filipino is then set free, and could participate in cheerful cry over the restoration of freedom and democracy in the Philippines, that cry shall be the fitting finish to this, my humble work.

Primitivo Mijares
April 27, 1976
San Francisco California

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