I Rule My World!

The past several days was spent meeting up three guys from my past. Yeah, right, one of my close friends would probably snort, as if you had someone in that department.
Well, these guys weren’t necessarily from THAT past, but true, I did
spend the last few days seeing people I never expected to see here.

One
guy was from high school. It’s funny how we were never in the same
classes before, nor were we in the same circle of friends. What I would
always know is that he was the Baluktot-Tagalog speaking guy who owned
a lot of original cds. And yes, I did tell him that recently.

In that light, I remember my co-worker’s hateful comment, "Ugh,
I hate people from highschool. I mean, if you were never really friends
with them then, why should they be suddenly nice to you now?"
Yeah, I’ve always wondered about that myself, why wasn’t I nice to
people back then, and then be suddenly nice to them now? Point taken,
only in a different angle. The answer I guess is maturity and change.
Highschool phase is always awkward.

So I met up with this guy
and it strikes me odd that we share a certain bond, like we were really
good friends before. We talked about the basics of every conversation
between reunited classmates…what has happened to the others, who
married who, who’s doing what, etc. It was quite a trip to memory lane,
and I was suddenly wanting to have that Highschool Reunion Batch 2000
right then and there.

And then we move to what we have been up
to. I had nothing to declare. For the longest time, I realize, I was
and still is a student, while majority of them have families of their
own, have high-paying jobs, or getting married. He had both the job and
the wife. I know it’s really weird, but it kind of freaks me out that
my classmates are already into this ‘adult stuff’. I guess in my eyes,
we would always be those awkward confused adolescents.

In
retrospect, I was sort of anxious to be in this stage of life where we
build families and contribute to the community by way of earning our
own money. I wanted to be out of highschool so much and be that ‘ate’
and ‘kuya’ I idolized over. I am in that stage, and to tell you
honestly, it’s freaking me out.

So yeah, thanks to him for that blast from the past. I hardly get that now.

A conversation on faith and prayer ensued after the two-hour Bible Study at the Indo twins’ house. Most of the time, the comments sparred between the two Bible-buff guys, Frank and Kuya Allen. I listened intently, and marvel on how much a conversation like this move me, and yet at the same time, rock me with overwhelming emotions of guilt and confusion. It all boiled down to one thing: How is my relationship with God?

Ever since I came here in Berrien Springs—nothing else occupied my mind but to get high grades, earn money, pay my tuition, earn more money, be popular, and possibly, meet the “one”. I threw myself into the busy grind of scholarly pursuits, and have forgotten, in the process Who brought me here in the first place.

I constantly live in fear. Fear that I won’t have the money I need for the coming semesters, fear that I am not good enough with the path I have chosen, fear that I would fall for someone I shouldn’t, fear that I’m not pleasing my bosses…Insane fear, but fear just the same. And I never really realized that, until that conversation. Kuya Allen would always conclude every conversation with “everything is messed up!” and I have the feeling I can very well say the same comment about my life.

Where is that faith I used to have, that kind of faith that would take the plunge and would leap into the unknown, with only God to hold on to? Where is that faith that would daily walk with God, and would be willing to say, “Hey, God, everything is completely in your hands”?

Where?

I am a bad cook. Well, at least that’s what I think so. Then again, I hardly cook at all—so I don’t really know if I’m that bad. There are some special circumstances, however (and that being when I’m trying to impress someone, in a terrible state of financial crisis, or when I realize I’m a girl after all, and that somehow I should at least know how to hold a pan!), when I actually brave myself into the kitchen to actually cook and not just raid the ref with something I could easily microwave. Such instance happened two months ago.

So…two months ago, I bought three packs of firm tofu. I did not really intend to eat all of them. But after receiving potluck invitations two weekends in a row, and having nothing in "my pantry" but a box of cereals, granola bars, and noodles, I resolved to cook. I happen to know several wonderful things one can do with tofu.

After cooking bicol express (aka ‘reheating’ what’s in the can), and heroically concocted my own special tofu sarciado (which actually tasted very healthy aka SALTLESS), I prepared the next course, fried tofu in marinated soy sauce, vinegar, sugar, ground pepper, and garlic.

Apparently, I was so smart, I told myself, I’ll fry them later that week. So into the ref the tofu go, snug and comfy in that big bowl of marinade.

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That was two months ago…and it’s still in the fridge…

The first time Paul showed me his recital poster, I was like, ‘whoa, dude—If I hadn’t
known how good you play, I’d still go just seeing this poster.’ And that was two nights ago, when we should have been doing the make-up listening test instead of analyzing the details of how he made this ad.

However, his recital tonight conjured up memories of how I tried, once in my life, to play the oboe. And I recall them with not much fondness because the lessons were not a voluntary action on my part.

Oh, fate made sure I had all the necessary things to make my summer oboe lessons successful—a funny,generous, very patient teacher (ahemmm), an oboe ( I share with two other guys…eew!) and a ‘patron’ who was willing to bet his money on me. I did my part on practicing (tho not as much as I do with piano or Amba)…still, just so you know the effort wasn’t one-sided.

To make the short story shorter—I quit, and never really got to play page two of my lesson book. Pathetic. I know.

But if you know me very well, you would know why I really didn’t go all the way for it in the first place. ;-))))

So anyway, I sat there in the dark listening to him play with ease and suavity Saint-Saens’ Sonata for Oboe and Piano. I smiled to myself when I realized I really had no regrets.