I Rule My World!

Found this old blog entry beneath my growing pile of bibliography assignments. Thought I would still post it though. Maybe someone who reads this can learn a lesson or two. I know I did…

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April 4, 2008
(The night is still young and the
room is not as cold as it has always been during the winter. I’m still
wearing my black gown from the worship concert, and typing this while
eyeing the big blue bowl of ketchup beside my laptop…)

I’ve
always had problems in admitting I am wrong. I get defensive,
emotional, guilty, and humiliated when accused of doing it. Most of the
time though, I am caught red-handed and the feeling is just
overwhelmingly embarrassing.

I will not even try to defend
those times I admitted ‘defeat’ graciously, nor the times I was wrongly
accused. That of course is a different story, which I will probably
write on one of my gloating moods.

The thing is not being wrong,
but I think that I’m always right. Not only when I’m a customer, or
when I’m trying to exercise my gender powers. I will always be right,
no matter what.

So I found it a little irritating when the choir
came to a consensus that when someone sang something wrong, one has to
raise his/her hands high up in the air. Duh. What kind of stupid,
little rule was that? Why parade my mistakes to other people? For me,
raising a hand is a polite way of saying I want something and I don’t
blurt it out anytime I want, or maybe getting all emotional with a
certain song or speech, or when I want to be recognized with a group of
people and that I am a part of that certain unit. But raising hands to
let people know, “Hey I messed up my notes” won’t just work for me.
Besides, I don’t mess up my notes.

Yeah, right…
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If
anyone is ever interested to work in the Music Materials Center, I am
telling you, find another job. The place is literally a minefield of
little odd jobs designed to make you feel stupid and wrong all the time.

Oh,
the first two weeks are always harsh. THOSE weeks will always be
riddled with traps lurking in the books shelves. This is my first-hand
experience of being the newbie: all the other workers will stop
shelving and I get to shelve carts and carts and carts of scores, cds,
lps, encyclopedias, anthologies, monuments, hymnals, and historical
sets everyday. Not only did paper cuts become my best friend but I get
to climb the ‘flight of shelves’ where books are squished tight, and I
won’t have the strength to push and pull, especially if stepping on an
8-foot high skinny platform. This is also the time where I need to
seriously ponder on the alphabet and chronology, which for many a time,
baffled me.

Then, there’s the case of the trusty purple strip.
Every book to be reshelved should come with a purple strip inserted in
it. This means only two things, (a) to let others know that I passed
first grade and that I shelved it right or (b) I was either asleep in
Math and English class that I didn’t know that S was after R or that 3
was after 2. In most cases, I would do it right. Of course, I should
shelve it right. What’s bugging is when I shelve it wrong, I would be
corrected by the shelf checker by pulling the book a little out of the
shelf, making the purple strip stick out prominently, as if to say, “My
shelver is very stuuuuuuuuuuuuupid!!!!.” Nope, the checker won’t tell
me my mistakes. I am left to venture the shelves on my own, and
refigure it all out.
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Come
to think of it. Humiliation is inevitable, and people around me seem to
embrace it, admit it, would stand corrected, and apparently move on
with their lives, hopefully a better person.

Then there’s me who
would sulk, disapprove, hide, turn a deaf ear and defensively say, “I
am right all along. Your system has the problem.” I don’t necessarily
get away with it, but when I do, it adds another trophy to my shelf of
pride and self-righteousness.
———————————————
Have
you ever noticed that ‘proving someone wrong’ is more used up than
‘proving someone right’? Actually, I always prove someone right—-ME!
Yup, my mind seems to always brush cheeks with omnipotence.
———————————————
You
might be wondering why you are wasting your time reading about these
gloating anecdotes on the author’s self-righteousness. Truth of the
matter is, I know I needed to admit this or I will never change.

In fact, aside from admitting and publicizing my faults through this
blog, I went (and is still going) through the humiliating process of
being corrected without feeling robbed of a shining, polished identity
by raising my hands in choir practice (which I do now every so often),
hunting for shoot-out purple strips among the stack of books, and
saying that “I’m sorry, I was wrong” mantra which used to haunt me for
a long time.

Amazingly, the feeling is better.

1. Celebrated 10 birthdays of some family and friends
2. Received an overseas phone call from someone who I never expected would call…ever.
3.
Realized that the critic paper I wrote painstakingly still wasn’t good
enough, that it had a lot of weak spots, and that it deserves to be in
the waste basket (and I thought she was being critical enough already!)
4. Got lost in the University Mall parking lot
5. Wore new shoes while walking around the mall parking lot
6. Seriously thought of amputation while my feet screamed with pain at the new shoes
7. Is in love…with Taco Bell and John Rutter’s music
8.
Received a big bouquet of gorgeous real flowers, many of which I only
saw before in fake, plastic, imitation versions, or in magazines
9. Considered changing my major to musicology instead of education
10. Saw Dr. Cerna!
11. Heard lots of juicy ‘chikas’ from the Philippines
12. Learned that a good friend is planning to propose to another good friend….finally!!!
13. Wished I had money (don’t we all??)
14. Missed my bestfriend so bad I just want to fly out of Berrien Springs ASAP
15. Wrote a paper every single day
16. Ate too many Stik-O’s
17. Cried in someone’s car
18. Was embarrassed because I cried in someone’s car
19. Never thought I would cry in public for a different reason other than watching a  drama
20. Wished I could go to the nearest ukay-ukay (fortunately, that exists in Berrien Springs!)
21. Missed freestyle writing
22. Wondered why the hot guys from highschool aren’t so hot anymore several years after highschool
23. Fasted for more time
24. Got slapped by the reality that my life needs a spiritual overhaul
25. Thanked God for introducing me to people who genuinely and sincerely love the Word
26. Held my peace when the secretary snapped at me for no apparent reason
27. Was late for all my morning appointments—-tsk tsk tsk!
28. Finished cataloging all the Das Chorwerk series. Hallelujah!
29. Reserved a seat beside Max in next semester’s Analytical Techniques class
30. Ate one of the best egg rolls in my life
31. Is sure that there will be eggrolls in heaven *winks*
32. Developed an interest for Dvorak and Smetana
33. Is excited for Dana’s recital and the new gown she’s planning to wear (which she plans to return as well after the event)
34. Thought I would hate guacamole but was proven wrong
35. Thinks that Dr. Logan is a genius
36. Is happy (and sad) because a lot of my Andrews friends are graduating…and leaving
37. Missed the earthquake!
38. Dreamed of Pad Thai…and was assured that I will have them on graduation weekend! Yey!
39. Almost fainted from biking too fast
40. Broke my biking record of 15 minutes to 5 minutes from Kephart Lane to Hamel Hall
41. Got a recommendation to join Beach2Bank. Haha…Are you kidding me?!
42. Is ecstatic because she doesn’t need that Sunday boyfriend anymore!
43. Needs to be equipped by the Word of God
44. Wants to go to Canada, California, Thailand, and Philippines—in that order!
45. Received a well-written apology in semi-old fashioned handwriting
46. Needs a ‘Bojo-talk’
47. Gave Dr. Logan an organ lesson. Seriously.
48. Is confused with a hundred different things
49. Lived on a Stik-O-Koh-Kae-Jungle-Energy-Bar-Tortilla-Hummus-Guacamole-Ramen-Oatmeal diet all week
50. Contemplated on making this list up to a hundred—but decided against it, obviously.

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.

…………….
………..
…….
…..
…
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.

He’s really tall—with a snobbish look on his face, especially with those thick glasses on. He stutters utterly, and smelled like he hasn’t taken a bath for three weeks in a row. I notice him carrying that green tote bag filled to the top with most of his belongings– a jacket, a blanket, a toothbrush, and who knows what else? This guy comes to the music library every Wednesday evening. I know because I work on that shift. Apparently, this weekly visit has been going on for some time, way before I decided I could work on night shifts. He tries to come in very discreetly tho, but with the library being cozy and all, his signature smell cannot be as subtle as his actions were . And so, we would always know if he is around.

I reprimanded him gently, several Wednesdays ago, when he tried reshelving the books he was browsing at. And true to his obedience (or defiance) he would look at every book he can get his hands on and stack them high on the reshelf cart. He has a particular affinity for Listz’s complete piano works, and would painstakingly photocopy several pages every Wednesday night. What he does with them, I don’t know. I would like to think he’s one of those creepy guys with hidden musical talents. I sure hope I’m right.

He rarely speaks. His usual routine would be to get the blue Liszt books, look through them, and head to the copy machine to photocopy valiantly from 7:30pm to 9pm, nonstop. I assure you, if he ever works for one of those photocopy centers in the Philippines (especially in UP Diliman!), he’ll be a rich man.

Anyway, this week’s Wednesday posed a slight change in his routine. The machine was not cooperative (or so he claimed), thus producing multiple copies of that single page  on "STEPS to FIX A LEAKING PIPE". The panic on his face was obvious, he starts to stutter, and points to the machine in manic frenzy.

I have to admit, I was almost at the point of panicking myself. I know I could just push the OFF button, and get it over with, but my feet was frozen to the floor. Don’t get near this man, I silently screamed. Yet I knew we’ll all run out of paper if I let my fear get ahead of me.

I drew a deep breath, made my way to the poor little copy machine and simply turned it off. I even had the guts to smile and comfort him, "There, that was not so hard was it? No need to worry!" I went back to my desk, and tried very hard not to notice his irritated way of shuffling through the wasted pile of papers.

"Bbbbut I cccaantttt pppay for all these! It was your machine’s fffffault!"

"Here’s the deal, give me the papers, and you don’t have to pay a single cent for them. Is that alright with you?", I bargained.

"I ggggguess so. But I still wwwwwant to photoccccccopy."

"Then we’ll simply turn the machine on."

He seemed to find that fair and went back to his beloved Liszt books.

And we lived peaceably for the next half hour…

…when he panics again. Thankfully, it was time for the library to close, and he had no choice but to stack the books on the cart. I sighed. I could re-shelf those books even with my eyes closed.

Bruce walks in the library the minute I got everything settled for the day. "Hey, do you know *Golda? She commited suicide last night in her boyfriend’s house."

I looked at him in disbelief. I don’t know Golda, but it wasn’t exactly the kind of fresh news you receive in the morning…
————————
Tyler, the student janitor has been sick for quite a few days already. I notice. That’s because…

Click Tyler and Golda for more

The campus DJ complains about the calls he’s getting at his shift
every morning. One particular ‘mean’ comment even referred to him as "a
disgrace of the university."

"How am I supposed to know all
those French, German, Spanish, and who-know-what-else words?!" he rants
as I spooned a morsel of macaroni floating with abandon on my soup bowl.

Hell, I don’t know. I wanted to answer. Isn’t that what you’re paid for? I kept my…

Click Cecille Li-cade for more…

"Isn’t it cool? We are in the same class so we can compare grades?"

"Why do you know Martha Argerich? Aren’t you organ major? Wow, don’t tell me you know Kissin?"

"You can’t swim?!? Aren’t you from the islands or something?"

"I think I need to cheat for this test, Irene."

"I’m so glad I walked with you."

"I think she hates me, and I think he hates you!"

"I’m not going to admit I’m the favorite."

"You have to be suspicious of kind people. That’s why people are better in San Francisco. They may be snobs, but at least you know they hate you."

"Doukhan has to get well!!!!"

And just today: "I won a thousand dollars!"

Denny Hong:
Freshman, Piano Performance Major
Ex-worker at Music Materials Center
Owns a hundred or so DVDS he doesn’t watch
Strictly Obsessive-Compulsive
Chinese trying hard to imitate Filipino accent
Study Partner in Hymnology
Kasing sweet ni VP (aruy!)
Lunch and Dinner Buddy at the caf
Hogs the Choir Room piano to himself
2008 Winner of the AU International Music Contest, as of today.