Slip of the Pen

Have you prepared your victory speech? The one trumpeted after your graduation, your promotion, your humble acceptance of an award. It’s the speech everybody wants to write, to deliver with élan, to be immortalized in some history book, to be worshipped by the inferior people looking up at you on your pedestal. So, have you already prepared your speech? Because I have prepared mine.

Cut to the chase. No funky perfunctory greetings here. Only self-adulation. Because if I’m to thank one and only person, that would be Me. The Me who resisted failure when failure was but a certainty, the Me who defeated defeat when defeat wasn’t a possibility but an inevitability. The Me who stood by Me when all others’ support wilted in the face of the all too human Ingratitude. The ‘alpha male’ Me who through the years finally believed in himself because nobody else believed in him. The Me who forged the best in Me — the Corsarius — even when all others thumbed their noses and stared their most disparaging stares at Me. And so I don’t thank the unrewarding parents, the fair-weather friends, the royal-righteous-popular-heroic enemies of the maligned corsair, the blind fools who see the villain and not the innocent, the spurners, the skeptics, the critics, and the dogs which bite their feeder’s hand. I thank only one person. I thank Me, I thank Me, I thank Me. Thank Me, and thank Me all. Thank you.

That’s it. Others may write their own speeches. If they need to spend hours on it, it’s fine. I’m done with mine.

It only takes ten minutes to self-adulate.

Philcoa, near UP Diliman campus

The pitter-patter of the rain is a treat to my ears. They sound like Gaia’s symphony, the right music to drown out the unnatural honks of jeepneys and the barks of bus conductors. The biting-cold droplets falling on my cheek are also heavenly; they make me feel as though I’m being kissed by a cadaver.

This is Philcoa at its finest. I never imagined this dingy terminal to be so elegant when covered in rain and night.

I can feel the incredulous and mocking eyes of the couple behind me. They might be whispering to each other, What’s wrong with this guy? This waiting shed is big enough for the three of us!

Oh yes, I can tell you how tempted I am to pull out my umbrella from my knapsack and shove it down either of their throats. But then the lovebirds would chokingly ask each other (yes, with umbrella in either of their throats), I told you this guy is crazy. Who brings a perfectly-working umbrella in his bag and doesn’t use it in a storm?!

No thanks. I’d rather not add to my disgrace today.

Then it hits me. Again. The memory of her. With the cold eyes hiding a pained look which I can’t fathom.

I am such an inutile being. Inutile beings deserve being rained upon on their parades. Thus, this umbrella-less penitence.

I suddenly realize that I’m in the perfect setting for a tragic soap opera.

Damn, is this scene beautiful.

*****

Corsarius’ Abode, the Dog-Zoo on Cordillera Street

Any moment wherein yours truly, the Corsarius, is eating Nissin chocolate wafer sandwiches is hands-down one of the most beautiful moments of my life.

I just fall for the sight of the palm-size brown square of goodness, already naked of its plastic wrapper. When the scent of its chocolate filling wafts to my nostrils, I am disarmed of my rational thought. Only tummy thought runs this body. And when my teeth bite into the soft sandwich and my ears hear the complementary crunch and the tongue tastes the mother of all tastes, I am rendered speechless.

Because right this minute, yours truly, the Corsarius, is eating a Nissin chocolate wafer sandwich, this moment is hands-down one of the most beautiful moments of my life.

Nothing can destroy this moment. Nothing. I’ll throw back whatever Cruise missile you fling here to interrupt my feast. And I’ll throw it back with Nissin plastic wrappings strung around the empty shell of your malice just to spite you.

But as I enter the living room, I stop my nibbling at my beloved Nissin and stare at the big mound of monstrosity on the sofa.

One of our eight dogs crapped on our precious, ramshackle couch. Crap color: Nissin wafer chocolate. Crap smell: not good. Crap taste: I’d rather not know.

The sight almost makes me throw up. I quickly leave the living room.

Even then, the moment is still a beauty. It has a Nissin wafer sandwich in it, after all.

I finish off the Nissin and munch on another pack.

Small pleasures are for the big boys, too.

*****

UP-Philcoa Jeepney, en route to Philcoa

The jeepney is full, but I managed to fit in. The chitchat noise of the people around me is drowning the pitter-patter of the rain outside.

I want to jump out of the jeep. I want to fall hard and roll on the wet asphalt, lay prostrate on the street, and let the torrent of cold drops dissipate the sting and wash away the goodness left in me. And when a vehicle runs me over, I’ll have the most beautiful funeral tale of all.

But it’s all talk, no action.

Instead, I just smile. Yes. Simply, smile. Smile while the people in the jeep carry on with their conversations and don’t mind this Soujiro**-wannabe, while the rain outside gets more furious, while the memory of her cold eyes pierce my heart.

*****

Some Nondescript Taxi, Quezon Avenue

As the city whizzes past the car windows, I am left to my musings.

Nighttime Metro Manila is more beautiful than the daytime one, I think.

It’s in these hours when you’ll really appreciate the urban setting around you. In the day, the metropolis is a choking cesspool of humanity, iron horses, and smog, but in the night, it’s far more civilized.

The bright lights of the city are marvelous. For example, the neon signs of classy whorehouses along this avenue are, well, pretty and bright. Rather brings to mind pretty girls and shining bright eyes of rich, dirty old men.

And yes, the traffic enforcers. Their absence late at night makes too many a driver very much pleased. Not that you need the enforcers at night; Q-Ave traffic is smooth at nine in the evening. The only ones you have to contend with on the streets are little innocent girls in tattered clothes peddling garlands of sampaguita whilst their adult ‘guardians’ rest easy several sidewalks away.

Truly, Metro Manila in the dark is a thing of beauty.

*****

MH219, UP Diliman campus

I try to hold her hand, but she swiftly jerks it away from my grasp. She leaves the room, but not before casting me a glance with her cold eyes. I can imagine seeing a pained look on her face, but I can’t fathom the reason for it.

I sit on an office chair and hide in a small corner. Something in my chest feels very very painful. My mind is in chaos. Amidst the soft hum of the room’s air conditioner and the chilly air, I can already hear in my mind’s ear and feel in my mind’s touch the pitter-patter of rain and zombie-kiss droplets falling on my cheek.

Then I hear something else. A cacophony of voices, hissing, baiting, inviting.

It’s as if I can hear the other side calling me. The images conveyed by its sibilant whispers can be described by only one word.

Beautiful.


*Phrase adapted from my best friend’s.
**Soujiro –- a fellow with a tragic tale in the anime Samurai X; yes, he always smiles in the face of tragedy.

Out with the angsty Corsarius, usher in the exuberant one.

WE DID IT!

Imagine this scenario: a newly-reinvigorated Filipino student organization based in UP Diliman’s Computer Science Department, struggling to pool enough funds in order to hold its activities. It’s just one of 750 international student chapters of the prestigious US-based Association for Computing Machinery, a Third World chapter at that. It joins the annual Chapter Excellence contest composed of five categories. With last year’s winners all hailing from the USA, the Philippine chapter’s members are just pleased to have done many things for the school and community, never mind the impending loss. And so a month of intensive evaluation within the ACM International HQ passes. The Filipinos are already looking forward to another productive year, again, never mind the impending loss.

But it wins. Not just one, but two categories. Two out of five. One Filipino chapter, three North American chapters. David and the Goliaths.

Implausible? Look at the image below.

We in the Executive Council of the UP ACM — Association for Computing Machinery University of the Philippines Student Chapter — was informed just hours ago of our triumph. I tell you, it was a moment of ecstasy. A totally unexpected moment, that is. Chapter members were shaking hands, making high fives, screaming (shrieking?), even becoming teary-eyed. Professors were congratulating us. All were smiling their lips into kingdom come.

I can’t write into words the emotion — amalgam of emotions? — I feel right now. Basta. All I can say is that I am so proud to be a Filipino. I am so proud to be a UP student. Those sleepless nights filled with the furious sound of my fingers assaulting the keyboard have paid off. Having written the majority of the essays (winning essay 1 | winning essay 2) we submitted to the contest, I feel like I’ve won a Palanca or an Olympic gold medal. And I’m sure all of us are feeling that way.*

Congratulations to my fellow Executive Councilors (Chapter Chair Ardee Aram, Vice-Chair Mai Sibayan, Treasurer Jonas Roque, Externals Head Jeric Cantos, Education Head Ma’am Riza Batista, Ex-Officio Members Ma’am Joyce Avestro & Kuya Harvey Viray, Sponsor/Adviser Prof. Rommel Feria), UP ACM members (yes, all 90+ of you), and last but not the least Secretary Sophia Lucero (who shared my duress during the homestretch of the essay preparations). Certainly, a job well done — kudos to you all!

Mabuhay ang Pilipinas! Mabuhay ang Unibersidad! Mabuhay ang UP ACM!

[UPDATE: UP ACM's victory has been published online in INQ7.net! For more updates (plus UP ACM's 'official' press release), please read my latest post in Crimson Crux.]

*And why shouldn’t we? Bagging one category = 500 US Dollars. We got two categories. Now, that’s some dough!