I don’t have the obstinacy to get out of bed. The weather’s too perfect, and this day’s too special. I have so many things in mind that I wanted to put in here, but the moment’s too surreal for me to let it pass by. I would have written a passage of my ordinary travels, of my subjective experiences, but this day is more than ordinary. I decided to place some of those passages in the cupboards, and put it on my pending list. Ironically though, no matter how special this day is, I just don’t know how to put it in words. I can’t seem to string the appropriate words to describe this day. Perhaps, I should stop trying to describe it and just go with the first thing that comes to my mind. And the first thing is a letter. Perhaps, and rightfully so, I should make one. Here it goes:


Dear you,

It’s the 25th of October, and you know what it means. We have again reached another chapter in our lives together. I dare not say it was a calm breeze; it was more like a flux of unpredictable storms and sunny days, and breezes and gales, and everything in between. I took the toll, but I held on knowing that everything is worth it. You are all worth it. We had our ups and downs, as like everyone else. We had our twists, our turns, and our dull moments. We had our misunderstandings, and plenty of those. We had our petty quarrels on trivial things. We had our inevitable clashes of pride. Our searching for a common ground, and got disappointed finding out there’s none. Our fierce battles on who is right. We had our many things within the span of 7 months. We thought of giving up. We tried letting go. We decided to walk away. But there’s something that kept us together; an invisible glue that bounded us, hopefully for life. Something always pulls us back together when we gave up, when we let go, when we walked away; a force beyond the both of us. And amidst our regular battles, amidst us thinking that we have had enough, deep inside we know we can still handle more. Deep in our heart of hearts, we know nothing’s going to make us falter; nothing’s going to break us. And we’ve gotten stronger. So much that it broke every expectation of ours.

And now we are on our 7th month, and even if there are still those petty quarrels, those misunderstandings, those clashes of pride, we still have each other. I’m still up for more. I’m still looking forward to more petty quarrels because I know they are just going to sharpen us. I’m still anticipating misunderstandings because I know we’re never going to understand everything about each other. I’m still waiting for our clashes of pride because I know we have plenty of those, but what we have is more than pride, more than anything else. I’m still here with you. The only thing that changed from before is that we no longer thought of giving up, we no longer tried letting go, and we no longer entertain the thought of walking away. We’ve grown, and we know that a solution that considers us breaking apart is a solution not worthy of grabbing. It is when we are together that we are the strongest. It is when we have each other that we know we’re indefatigable. But I know we are far from being indestructible. For if we are, the fun of uncertainty withers. We don’t know what lies ahead of us. We don’t know what we will be up against. And certainly we don’t know if we’d end up together. Everything is uncertain. And from that we imbibe strength. Everything is “we don’t knows”. Everything is “what if’s”. And from that we know we have a choice. Knowing nothing is certain, we steadfastly fight for each other.

If there is one thing I’ve learned from this journey, it is that I refuse to go on without you. I will not sycophantly say that I cannot live without you, for I have. I have years behind me without you. But having lived short moments with you, having spent wonderful times with you, I refuse to ever go on without you. With every bit of what I have, I’ll fight for you. And I will never be jaded of fighting for you.

Happy 3rd (7th) monthsary my only Bernz. We may have reached this milestone, but still nothing is ever assured of us. But one thing I can be certain about is that I will continue to fight for us, I will hold on, and that I will be yours until you decide you no longer want me. What lies ahead of us may be ominous, but what we have at this point in time is more worthy of attention than anything else. I love you, and words are not commensurate. It goes beyond what I can say, what I can write. I fear sometimes that I could no longer express what I truly feel, not because I don’t know what it is, but because it’s no longer enough. Just allow me to say it in its unadulterated form, I love you. I’m looking forward to more moments with you. I’m yours until. ♥

Indefatigably loving,
Vergie

My head on my hand, thinking of what to put up here. I’m lethargic, and in a pressing need of vitality to recuperate my wandering mind. The sky is halfheartedly crimson, and tuneless songs break my empty travels. My fingers run amok, and are faster than my thoughts. I do not stop to think; whatever appears on my screen is indiscriminately unaltered. I’m tired, and the glaring screen is lulling me to sleep. But whenever I lie down and offer myself under the suspension of consciousness, my lethargy fades like short-lived fumes. And once again, I am in front my monitor screen, thinking of what to put up here, yawning and in a trivial battle against sleep.

I have nothing in mind but Bernz. Always her, and there never was a time that I could remember not thinking of her. I am constantly preoccupied of her. How she smiles that makes everything blur. How her eyes shapes when she talks that ceaselessly makes me wonder “how in the world did I ever got to her?” I am fortunate. So much so that fortune fails to encompass what I truly gained. She changed my life in the subtlest ways possible. The little things that she does, unfailingly make me fall for her more. I am deeply in love with her. How deep? I have not yet captured an accurate measurement, nor will I ever capture one. It’s 2 days before our 3rd monthsary, though I’d like to believe that we are on our 7th, and it always seems that it was just yesterday. It always seems untrue. When we’re together, reality seems to crumble into the world of vivid illusions. A delusion I am not willing to perturb. A dream I am not keen on waking up. Wonderfully enough, I don’t have to, for she’s real. Tangible. Beautiful. Real.

Although there were days that I treasure that I no longer clearly remember, I treasure the “now” moments. I dread of the day that she might one day realize how unfortunate she is to have me. I lack the standards, nor am I willing to attain these standards. I am my own man. And I fear it might not be enough. As for her, she’s more than enough for me. She doesn’t have to be anybody else. Just being her, and I still fall even more.

Right this very moment she’s sound asleep. Snoring, I assume. She’s tired, and it would mean everything to me to watch her in her unconscious wanders. Though that would be a long way to go, it remains a wishful thought. I dare not say that she completes me, for I never really remember being lacking myself, nor did I ever feel inadequate. I am always satisfied with what I am. I do not require myself a massive dosage of grandiosity. She’s not the puzzle that fits perfectly into my life; it’s not her burden to bear. Nor is she the angel that soars down from the heavens and blows me a kiss of pure serenity. She’s not any of those. She’s her, and that is all she has to be. She’s her own self, and I am not looking for anyone that would fit my standards. She broke everything on my list. She’s my exception.

She doesn’t have to complete me; we are two separate, complete lives, looking for a common fate of loving and being loved in return. If anything, she creates a void inside me; a void that impetuously appears, a void where only she can fill, a void where only she can create. I have never been this inadequate in my life; I lack moments with her. She’s all I need.

I have never been afraid of tomorrows. I have never been so fearful of uncertainties. I have always faced these things with head held up high and fists unclenched. Not these days. Not the days when I think of what may become of us. I shudder of the possibility of losing her. I tremble thinking that I might lose her. I cringe of the thought of her walking away from me. I battle these trepidations day in and day out. She’s all I want.

Now that a new horizon is on the verge of being conquered by us. I fear of what else lies ahead. But I am confident that whatever it is, we will be able to go through it like breeze through a curtain. We are on a journey. The goal is yet clear, and the roads ahead are certainly full of rough and tumble. We have a prospect future, but that remains a prospect. It’s not a laid path, we have to make it for ourselves. Nothing is ever certain. I love her more than anything, more than anyone, but I know nothing is certain. And with that in mind, I battle those that might ruin what we have. The awareness that I might lose her, gives me conviction of wanting to fight for her. And I will indefatigably fight for her. It’s a battle against fate, and one I am fervent in winning.

With head on hand, I realize my mind’s not empty nor will it ever be. As long as she occupies my thoughts, my world will be psychedelic. She’s everything in between black and white; a splash of vitality, a dab of enthusiasm, and a smudge of passion. She’s not my everything! Keep that in mind. But she’s that one thing, that makes everything else mean nothing. And I love her. ♥

Maintaining myself to write has been a trivial battle. I have all the time in the world, but laziness always has its way of infecting me a substantial amount of sleep virus. Ideas spring out wildly, and it’s just a matter of jotting down my thoughts. But my bed has its way of tying me down, and lulling me back to the realm of intangibility. But I’m not one to complain. It’s a predicament I want to be more often. Sleep. Nothing in mind. Unharmed by pressure. And sleep more.

Sleep is essential. And I could never stress its essentiality in any way I can. No hyperbole can exaggerate how much we, as a specie, NEEDS sleep. Even capitalizing the word need fails in effort. We should at maximum, have 8 hours of sleep a day. Although it’s ideal, it’s commensurate. The world has quickened its pace. What it’s after, no one in one’s rational, logical, and scientific mind can ever know. It’s beyond everyone, simply put. It seems that everyone is in a congenital race. It is as if, we are born to make haste of everything. Slowing down is a deadly plight, and once you decrease your pace, life gets more ahead. We no longer have our own time. It’s been devoured by schedules, to-do’s, and deadlines. I’m not against any of those, nor am I starting a rebellion. They’re in and of itself significant in one’s life. Without those, we wouldn’t be pushed to finish what we have to finish, or start what we have been longing for to start. I’m just hoping we gain back our control, and reacquire the driver seat. We can’t control time, but we can always moderate our pace.

On another note, I always like countdowns. It gives you something to anticipate in a world where waiting for something is commonplace. It excites you as the number draws close to naught. Zero has never been embellished quite worthily as it should during countdowns. And when the calendar starts rhyming, it’s automatic to imagine Christmas. I for one don’t believe in Christmas as the exact date of Jesus’ birth. It’s not exact, nor will it ever be if ever they decide to change it to some dates other than the traditional. But Christmas for me is beyond that. It has slowly lost its meaning, and celebrating it has been bounded by austerity. The economic crisis everybody is experiencing has tightened everybody’s pocket. But Christmas is beyond that.

Before, as far as my memory can be trusted, the atmosphere changes from ordinary to soothing when the –bers announce its coming. Christmas begins early back in the heydays. Christmas was longer, and the anticipation always crunches your abdomen as a day sloughs off the countdown. October, and both the inside and the façade of our house is ornate with sparkly decors and lights coruscate seemingly dancing with a Christmas tune. Both the radio and the television serenade you with joyful Christmas songs, encouraging everyone to feel the spirit of Christmas. But those were the days. And Christmas now has become shorter and shorter. No one’s to blame, not even the custodians of tradition. The tides have changed, and the paradigms have shifted. It’s 64 days before Christmas, and I haven’t caught sight of even a single sparkling ornament in our house. It may only be us, but it is the closest to me that I make the judgments of those distant from me. The radio no longer plays Christmas songs as often as they were before. The countdown’s still there, but it no longer elicits the same anticipation as it did back then. But Christmas is beyond that.

I don’t know if it’s only me, but I do find the melody of Christmas songs soothing. There’s just something hidden in those notes that calms me. Seeing Christmas decors warm me; I feel at ease wherever I am when I see such. The countdowns of today may no longer excite me, but there is still that dormant feeling of wanting to be excited. I don’t know what tamed it, but it’s there. Then I thought that Christmas is none of those things. Not the Christmas decors, not the Christmas songs on radios and tv’s, not the countdowns; none of those. It’s beyond that, and it’s beyond us. Heck! It’s not even the birth of Jesus. It’s beyond that also. And as a Christmas song played, I realized that it is the feeling you get from Christmas itself. The feeling of family, of friendship, of love, of sharing, of forgiving, of peace, of joy, and almost every positive emotion you can think of. Perhaps, even of satisfaction. We forget our problems, and the solution shines through. Everything we need for subsistence is everything we have. Christmas, as it draws close, made me realize that what we need is everything that we have. Christmas may be short, but it has become more intimate for me. It has become an essential part of my year, and will be for the years ahead. It draws near, and a renewed spark of anticipation has been tingling me. Christmas is beyond everything tangible. It lurks in each and every one of us; some dormant, some active. It’s only a day in a year, may we not forget to savor it as it comes. Happy Christmas! =]

Four months of life-sucking, death-defying, anemia-inducing ordeal. Although that is an exaggeration, it adequately describes what I have been through this semester. I had my ups, my downs, and my sidetracks. But that’s what makes the expedition enthusiastic. I basked under the scalding stare of pressure brought about by errands; errands that is either a predilection towards my chosen career, or towards leisure.

Leisure, I surmise, is a time you give to yourself from yourself. No one gives that to you. But to some extent, it is something we cannot give to ourselves when situation disallows it. It is not an abundant necessity (after all, we need it). If anything, it is scarce. But after a gruesome semester, it is only righteous that I (and everyone involved) gift myself with a leisure I sorely deserve.

We all need a little time where all we do and all we think about is virtually nothing. That may be an impossibility, but we can at least settle for a bar below that. Immersed in a fast-paced world, it is easy to lose ourselves. If we fail to keep track of where we trudged, we might end up surrounded by unfamiliarity. In this supersonic universe, it’s only ordinary that we become engrossed in our journeys that we tend to forget that we can only take so much. Leisure frees us from the grasp of labor, from the torture of unsolicited responsibility, and from the sleep-depriving assignments.

Sometimes in our lives we were once slaves of work; some without the surety of contentment, and some do not even sufficiently reward. We dig our own pit, and bury our own selves. We only get to notice how far we have dug down when we put down our shovels and look up.

The semester has ended, and it couldn’t have been any timelier. The prologue of a short hiatus is a fulminating weather. The downpour of rain has been an ominous signal. It may mark the beginning of a week-long vacation, but it threatens to cut short any planned excursion. It continues to baffle me how so much rain fits in a floating cotton cloud. It’s soaring above is enigmatic, never revealing their secret to petty humans. I could only look up in awe and bewilderment.

A leisure time for myself appended by the serenity of the falling rain, is my idea of a vacation; a staycation. The clammy touch of the breeze induces a soporific demeanor. There’s always something about a cold weather that makes me peregrinate. When the rain drums its mardi gras beat, my thought clambers the overture of imagination. I get lost in a world where I could be god. I could be the harbinger of all things surreal.

Within the custody of an impregnable roof, fastidious walls, and a window pane, I could look outside where the rain falls. They never fall alone. A cheap pen and a dubious notebook on my lap, scribbling and converting scenes into words, I could stay awake till the wee hours of the night. With my thoughts to keep me company, and my self-made characters conversing in front of me, I can make a sudden movie that will never be funded. With the face of the person that makes each day worthwhile for me close to me, I can stare at the horizon, see nothing, but still smile. This is unenviable. But it suits me just fine so long as she’s where she’s supposed to be: within my embrace, allured by her aroma, mesmerize by her eyes, and killed by her smile. It’s ineffable; my feeling for her is, but might as well die trying. =]

The University of San Carlos, a prestigious catholic institution not only in Cebu, but arguably the whole country, is a devout university to the teachings of the church. They ostentatiously commercialized to have taught their students the fundamental lessons God himself taught; although it is no argument. They did not fall short on the action and motivation to instill those values and their motives of doing so may be in and of itself worthy of recognition, it is their action contradicting such teachings that is beyond deception.

Whoever speaks of the name of the University of San Carlos automatically has in mind a stereotype of prestige, poise, and incomparable discipline. Not knowing that behind the façade of such stereotype is a paradox worthy of castigation. A scenery sore to the eyes of the critical and those who keep vigilant eyes contrasts the landscape of decade-old trees. My eyes were one of those that ceaselessly squint when it catches a glimpse of the paradox that hid behind the tall walls of a catholic institution I proudly belonged.

But like every story, there is always an antagonist. There is always that one group, no matter how small, who refuses to keep silent and considers silence as cowardice. We, the students of the Environmental Sociology class of Mr. Aloy Cañete were a rowdy bunch. A small group of not exceeding 25, decided to take up arms and battle against the giants of the institution we are in. With a mindset of catalyzing change, we, together with our passionate teacher, planned a movement that would go up against the paradox right in the backyard of where we were holding up our classes. A feeling of dissonance persistently whips us back to awareness; we are stakeholders and we have as much right as the honorary priests running the said institution into voicing out our opinions. We are students of this university. And whatever is boiling inside the school we are studying in is information that must pass through our ears.

After careful deliberation on what steps to take and what errands to run, we came up with the idea of going against what is closest to us. As students of an environmental sociology class, it would only be appropriate if we rise up against an abuse towards the environment.

Behind the immaculate façade of our university, is a tragedy waiting to happen. Mountains, that took millions of years to rise up to its peak, have been degraded into flat lands. Thick vegetation that held its ground against the most malignant of storms, pose no threat to the iron-hand of mechanical machineries. Fertile soil, that has supported who knows what since time immemorial, has been sloughed off the ground leaving it barren and lifeless. A quarry concealed technically by redundant laws as a site development, has been going on atop the university; an activity that goes against any teachings of God. A paradox we were keen on stopping.

Utilizing technology, I took a glance of the place on Google Maps. It is a software where you can view virtually anywhere on the surface of the earth. And for a sad reason, the place was not difficult to find. This is due to the salient and significant contrast of colors; a puddle of yellowish bedrock hidden behind a wall of tall trees. But, from a bird’s vantage point, the trees disclosed its dark secret. The quarrying has been undergoing even before I entered the institution. Its scale is gut-wrenchingly large, and its effects on ecology are haunting.

We took a stand. We decided to make good on what little voice we have and use it to reverberate our castigations and aimed to raise awareness to the silent many. We refused to become silent, and be a part of the conglomerate that takes up arms. Our arsenal is our voices, our principles, and our passion. We may be few, but our cause reverberates to the deepest corners of the institution itself. We hoped to tickle the sleeping majority, point them out to the issue right behind their backyards, and promote awareness of those who were like us before we joined the class. We organized the Kontra-Quarry sa TC movement. Our fundamental aim was to go against the quarrying that is killing what little is left of our school’s flora and fauna. We endeavored for change.

It is a movement an amalgam of diverse students secretly contrived. But in all honesty, at first I wasn’t really that passionate about the said activity. It was way beyond me, and I was too pre-occupied with errands I have yet accomplished. I reckon it to be a burden. And I could have never been more satisfied to be proven wrong. As the movement shaped up into what was once a surreal idea, and became a tangible force, I began to unclench my fists and embraced the aim of the movement. It was a cause worthy of immersing myself into.

And now, the semester has ended and the movement, I personally reckon was a success. Having stirred up the drowsy administration, our movement woke them up and opened their half-closed eyes that the students refused to stand quiet. A successful forum was organized by everyone involved in the movement tackling on issues revolving around the quarry. Our goal was clear: to put an end to the un-Christian works of quarrying. Also, t-shirts were printed for free to those who show support to our movement. Subsidized by the So-An department, the students involved were keen on spreading the protest. We also visited rooms, talked a bit about what our movement was about, and called for more students to join. Overall, it was arduous. But the fruits of our labors were sweet.

Having been a part of the movement convened in me a lot of learning. A value that has been etched into the deepest part of my convoluted brain will linger till the last tree on earth drops. I have learned that we are enmeshed in a giant cobweb with nature. And that whatever happens to a corner consequently reverberates to the other corner. We are one with everything else. Say for example, the quarry happening on top of the university led to the catastrophe-like flooding beneath and outside the school premise; a dilemma that hasn’t been addressed even though the situation has gotten worse and worse. We are all connected in a single strand of string called nature; a predicament we are innately tied with, and where we are bounded to death. And even to death, we remain tied to the encompassing grip of nature.

I have learned to love nature more. I have learned to remain vigilant, and continually ferret for more abuses against it. We are part of nature, and if anything, we are nature itself. The mountains, brought about by incomprehensible forces, grew freely. And it should be left free. The adulterated mountains of the University of San Carlos is an epitome of how dangerous we humans could be, provided we keep a blind eye of the adverse effects of our actions. The once pristine condition of the university’s ecology has now become a rugged, malevolent tableau. We must keep in mind, and steadfastly at that, that we owe our existence and subsistence to nature. We, together with many other, should be the guardians, not the delinquent specie. We are nature.

My eyes are now wider than they ever were. With a fear that may be, someday, my children and their children’s children, and so on, might not be able to see what I have seen, to experience what I have experience, touch what I am still able to touch, I grow weary every day. I am niggled by the thought that everything might be lost, and we, as a specie, are the instigators. I ought to foment awareness. I believe that in every human lies a dormant will to stimulate change. All we need is a little shove at the back, and the momentum will build up for itself. I will be the “shover” if given the opportunity.

As an agent of change, I consecrate my word that I will continue what we began. And it should also be a troth for everyone involved to perpetuate the prolific start. It is not necessary to rally in a rowdy ensemble. Little commitments will suffice. In our own little actions, we do good with what we have consecrated. As agents of change, it is what’s closest to us that we have to draw the starting line. We start within ourselves. To promote change, it is to ourselves that we should start promoting it with. I am an agent of change. And as Edward Everett Hale insinuated, “I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do. And by the grace of God, I will.” If everybody’s mindset will be this, then as the many ones convene, will make a conglomerate of agents who aims to preserve what little is left of our breathtaking nature. We are nature.

I have a vision. That someday, I will be able to see what my ancestors saw; an unadulterated condition of nature, a pristine backdrop. I will be able to swim the seas without fear of contamination. I will be able to walk the road without worry that I might inhale a putrid stench. I will be able to climb trees without irk that it might be my last. I will be able to photograph the sublime features of nature whose only fear might be the insufficiency of memory space. I will be able to tour my children, and my grandchildren to places I deemed breathtaking, and still they are there. And when that someday comes that I knock on the door of the place everybody is destined to, I will be confident that the place I will be leaving is still the place I have lived, or be better.

I am part of nature. I am nature.