This is for Chikitita, for Direk, For Mojacko and Doraemon, For Kalbo and Balbon, For Cutie and Papu na Gwapo, for an Ermitanyo, For Tol and BJ and to Tatay Ed
By virtue of no-choice, I have to at least make my things organized. Maybe organized in the eyes. Maybe just the outer part, maybe I can at least make it look as if it was clean or organized, fooling others as if it was really clean. Maybe put some shades of green to convince others of my outward cleanliness but deep inside I might be rusty, dirty or maybe I am really clean.
Weird as it may be but most of my clutters are because of the things that I just can’t seem to throw away. Most of them stuck on the different crevices of my bed, my cabinet, my study table or in a box that I know is safe from prying eyes. This things pile up and later become rubbishes to most but to me this has different meanings that enable me to come back to the moment that is embedded deep into this things. Moments worth remembering and moments close to my heart because these events changed something in me.
The first thing I found is a nametag bearing my second name: Angelo. I would never forget that moment when two bouncing baby boys helped me carry my luggage to our dormitory. My mom branded them as mojacko and doraemon. Later I will know them by the name of Ramon and Sammy. Those hospitable smiles will never be forgotten and the welcoming aura palpable even up to now. I will not forget the times Ramonster became a great help and Sammy as a great leader. I learned that I too can be like them, a Kuya and a companion to others. But as Ramon has reminded me over and over again; being helpful should have some borders.
Digging deep into the pile of clutters, I found a couple of green tickets for our play during my pre-college days entitled: Si Juan at ang Madyik Sombrero, Isang Kyogen sa Pritil. I remember those sleepless nights practicing and rehearsing for that magical day when seminarians transforms themselves into something that one cannot possibly perceive at first glance. I remember Chikitita and her powerful conga. Later I will know him as Micha. Deep into those silent mask lurks a being waiting to be tapped. The aura of seriousness and silence hides a certain behavior oblivious to many and most obvious to some. I will not forget the shared jokes, the hidden talents and the same love for music I have shared with him. Also embedded on those tickets are the nights of rehearsals and the many quarrels with our director. I can vividly remember wherein he walked out due to things that I cannot anymore remember. Later I will know him as Paul, a strict but effective leader. I learned from him that a plan must be executed with a firm movement, unbiased and is goal-oriented. I sighed as those memories came rushing back.
My eyes then got stuck on a gray jersey with a number 26. I remembered those games that I have played back when my body is less irritated by my sweat and my allergy not at its peak. I remembered the games played together with a Dancing Bald guy whose moves and principles on the hardcourt reflect his philosophy in life. Sometimes you score, sometimes you don’t. Life is a series of fortunate and unfortunate events; one must be flexible enough for them to not break from all the pressures thrown by the irony we came to know as life. I later came to know him as Mang Duds. Also of the same team is a running ball of hair. Whose sentiments I also experienced. From this balbon, I learned that a seminarian can love and be loved in return. Also of the idea that one must be able to experience certain things before they reject it. A choice without an alternative is not a choice at all. Later I will know him as Calvs.
Hidden deep beneath my things I found some photos that I took from my very first excursion here in the seminary. A portrait of the glimmering twilight. Together with me on that adventure was a guy with beard like a goat and a masterful eye like that of an owl. Later I will know him by many names; Clare, Clang-Clang, Cutie and my preference Boss Clarence. By the first time we tried doing photography he was ahead by leaps and bounds. Many concepts I have picked up from his wild and sometimes dangerous mind. Things truly change when we try to see it on a different perspective.
My eyes wandered for an object close to my core, who would not be proud to see a thing that you worked hard for, spent sleepless nights for sacrificed blood, sweat and tears. It was entitled Tabularasa. I flipped the pages and found myself stuck on the memories of sleepless nights with a sage, a long haired but pretty lanky sage. Whose ideas go beyond what I know and can perceive. I admire those ideas that made me aspire for greater heights. I later learned that this sage is younger than me, and goes by the name of Oliver.
As flipped I bumped into a certain article that discusses the positive things that life offers after something negative. When you meet its author you can see that he basically practices what he preach. Who wouldn’t remember that enigmatic laugh and the way he convulses when he laughs. Laughter is truly the greatest medicine. To laugh is to be human, Ironic as it may seem but when one learns to laugh on his own self then he is truly brave. That brave soul was known as Baste, but is fondly called Papu.
There are more memories that has not been capsulated in my clutters but is forever part of my being. One is when they told me that we have a new Formator. I got curious, and looked for him when lunch time arrived. A saw a different face and concluded that he must be it. He was plump with a full beard and a thick moustache. I concluded that he must be strict due to the fact that he seldom smiles and is always looking rather serious. Later I will know him as Tay Ed. And true to my first impression of him as a formator. He became a formator not just on my seminary life but also of life itself and made me realize of the things that I can do for the congregation I have committed myself into. For almost two years now, our family has embraced a new breed of Bigger Brothers; one whose contagious laughter still lingers in my head, the other One whose appearance may surprise many but deep inside shelters a different soul.
People come and people go. Life is full of surprises. You will never know what kind of people you will encounter. Many will be left forgotten, will be buried deep in the dust-laden corners of our minds. But some will surface due to the impact they have dealt upon us. For us communication students, life is a series of communicating with our selves and to other people. But what is more important? The fact that you have you communicated? Or the lesson you can impart through communicating with others and the effect it will give to your receiver? Our stay here is not for ourselves alone but also for others and lessons we can pass on and the difference we can make.
As for the 12 souls that will soon realize their respective purposes in life, I say thank you for the great lessons you have filled my empty head with. I am not a person that is great with goodbyes so i’ll just say that we will miss you until we see each other again. Maybe by that time I will be more organized.
