Continuation of the Past

Thursday, June 29, 2006

Well, here I am again writing in another journal.

I remembered always keeping a journal ever since first year high school which was inspired by an Archie comic book story aptly named Jughead’s Journal.

For all those comic book fans out there you’ll remember that this series was one of Jughead’s turning points in his life where everything went into topsy turvy starting with his girl relationships (imagine being torn apart by four girls all at once and he’s a woman hater!), his wacky highschool adventures and ultimately his point of view in life. The story depicts of him relating his story thru his journal: his hopes, his fears, his anxiety and all the other feelings swirling around him.

Typical of an Archie comic, in the end the story reverted to what Jughead was back before everything that happened to him (all the girls left him except for big Ethel who’s still running after him) although I would assume that he’s more mature and wiser now than before. That’s probably why he chose to become a psychiatrist in the story arc Archie: 15 years and back again (it became a live movie and was featured in HBO a few years back)

But that’s another story.

Anyway enough talk about Jughead. If I keep rumbling about comic books this entry wouldn’t end and you, dear reader, would either keep reading for the whole day or stop from being bored to death.

As I was saying, I’ve been keeping a journal ever since highschool. Although the entries were written on different notebooks over the passage of time, which incidentally, is scattered around my room, I’ve written all those pages with what I’ve ever felt and experienced about in my dismal mundane life. Recently, I’ve uncovered two of my earliest journals, one dating back to the year 1995 to 1996 (That’s over 11 years old!) and one, and probably the last entry I’ve ever made, dates back to the year 1996 to 2003. The final entry depicting what I’ve felt on the summer after the graduation of my friends in college.

It was tear jerking as usual as I usually make my entries with the flair of the melodramatic.

As I reread all the entries of my past life I’ve realized that I’ve grown somewhat but, in a way, I’ve still retained some of my past self. Like I’ve said in one of my former journal entry “some things never change especially some of our old habits.” 11 years from the oldest entry that I’ve ever written and I can still see my old self right now from what I’ve read.

Here’s the first entry from the oldest journal I’ve uncovered (along with the wrong spellings and grammatical errors haha!):

07-31-95

“Journal,

Hey! I’m back!! This time with a vengeance. Ok, so I’m already 2^nd yr. And I’m still here in Hwasiong living in the dorm. My love life, “zilch”, “nothing”, “kaput”. I mean, nothing really happens anyway. So forget about my love life, there’s nothing to talk about anyway. Also, I’ve too much responsibilities this yr. That’s because I’m not anymore a newcomer so they expect much from me now. Like I’ve been forced to become the contestant of our class as a English declamatory. It happened on July 22 and I came out fourth. Not bad for a inexperienced guy. And, oh yeah, I gave an essay speech last Saturday in our dorm and I came out 2^nd out of five dormitories. Well, I’ll start telling my experiences tomorrow so good night…

- today’s Ate Jen’s Birthday!!!”

Here’s another excerpt from the year 2003. My last entry before I stopped writing altogether:

April 07, 2003

“They say life starts at forty when you got the cash and the time to enjoy life.

I doubt it.

I think life starts with your teenage years. When you start to experience things the first time. When life shows you what it has to give. Smacks you hard with its lessons right in the middle of your chest. Sure, it hurts, but the pain is what makes us alive. Makes us realize we’re human.”

That paragraph is the first of a very long entry that I’ve made. Although I’d like to share the whole story I don’t think I should because of some private matters that shouldn’t be read by anyone at all.

It’s funny reading the past written in your own words. You can relive the feeling you felt at that time like it only happened yesterday. The happiness and excitement of doing things the first time can be felt with just a paragraph of your life story. Not to mention the pain and lessons you’ve learned along the way will surface to haunt you as well.

In a way, I’m grateful I’ve made those journals back then. It’s a reminder of what I was and what I’ll ever be in the coming years of my life.

Here’s to the continuation of the past.

I guess some things never do change.

P.s.

I remembered from all those years that I’ve ever written in my journal there’s only one person that I’ve ever shared it with (with the help of a little nagging of course). Hopefully she won’t tell anyone about what I’ve written (not that I don’t trust her haha!). Although to her I’ve bared what’s inside my heart and all of my feelings. Only a few people has that right and that made her special.

So to that person, if ever you are reading this, I hope you have a happy and memorable life so take care always.

You’ll always be special to me.

Scramble

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

A funny thing happened on the way home tonight. As I would usually commute nowadays because of my car being in near retirement (and that’s just putting it mildly) I’d usually take a tricycle ride home to the subdivision where I live.

A ride in a tricycle would be a total bore if not for the person handling it. Typical of a pinoy driver, people handling tricycles are in everyway the same as those of taxis, jeeps and FXs which, except for the smaller contraption that they are handling, are veterans of the highways; being able to swerve gracefully and run amok along the streets while making sure that their passengers are on the verge of fear and anxiety. They’d be praying to whatever deity they worship that they’ll be able to arrive at their destination safe and sound.

It’s no wonder everyone was hanging on to dear life at the steel bars of the tricycle that we’re riding tonight.

I tell you that guy’s a maniac!

If I were a cop I’d halt him for road rage, and speeding, and swerving and whatever there is there for him to stop. Too bad all the Police I’ve seen tonight are either lolling around in their jobs or getting a drink at the local store. There’s nothing to save us from getting 10 years growth out of our system.

And to think people are wondering why I have a lot of white hair in my head. Go figure.

Alas for our trusty driver his perennial good luck has come to an end. A taxi started to get too close to him for comfort resulting in an angry gesture from our man and a little pat on the hood of the taxi (did I say little? More like a hand slam from the taxi driver’s point of view).

If I’d make a guide to Manila’s driving etiquette the first rule I’d make is that whenever someone tries to challenge you in a drag race you’d be obliged to follow suit. As if on cue, the taxi driver lounged ahead and cut in front of us. Not one to be taken lightly our trusty hero did his best to overtake the taxi but it was like a snail challenging a turtle in a race: No matter what you do you’ll see his big shiny shell in front of you stupid. So our man tried to zigzag across the traffic hoping he can elude Mr. Bigshot in front of him.

Funny thing about being responsible on the road is that you’ll have to be aware of your surroundings especially of other vehicles beside of you. I guess our hero forgot to keep that in mind as he crashed with another motorcycle on his right. With a large thud and a bit of a yelp from the other guy on the motorcycle our man came to a screeching halt in the middle of the street.

It seems that things have come for the worse and I was in the middle of it all. I was thinking this is going to be a loooooong night one which would probably last for a few hours at the least. Sure enough, the two drivers were yelling at each other. All that’s left for them to do was to strangle each others throats.

To top of it all Uzis (a personal term I use for gawkers or uziseros) started to appear and surround the scene of the crime. Traffic began to build because of other drivers looking at us and shaking their heads. Cars were at a standstill for half a mile along the road.

Kids and other tambays were coming from god knows where just to look at us and make comments to each other. With all the commotion around you’d think someone had died. I’d shudder to think if someone did this place would have been in chaos.

I felt like the monkey at the zoo being stared at by everyone who passes by.

Yep, I thought again, it’s going to be another long night.

But miracles of miracles, the tricycle and motorcycle drivers had come to a bitter conclusion. After a few grunts and guffaws from each side they had come to a mutual agreement. One of which they end (surprisingly) with a little bit of brotherly hug. I was flabbergasted at that sight and a little bit touched but mostly shocked (my thoughts were swarming around that of a little brokeback gesture) but I guess all’s well that end’s well. With a little help from the observers we took apart the tricycle and motorcycle from each other and went on with our separate way.

Having arrived at the front gate of Filinvest 2, our man was greeted with assurance from his other tricycle buddies that it really wasn’t his fault (at the least). But we all know he was the cause of it all. But who wants to say that at that time? The guy’s swelling with moral justification at the moment.

Tired and weary the other dazed passengers started to walk away from the tricycle shed and off to their respective homes. I stood there for a little bit thinking that with the entire ruckus that happened I forgot to pay the guy as he sped off the street and into the night.

Oh well, I guess I’ll probably see him again one of these days.

Hopefully after a year or two, that is.