'Tis The Season...

A friend was making a comment about persimmons and Filipinos. He is not particularly into persimmons himself but was wondering why a lot of Filipinos love them. I told him, "I'm not sure why, really, but maybe it has something to do with the familiarity of fruits or their resemblance to native Filipino ones. They taste a little bit like chico, and when you bite into them, the texture resembles that of mangoes." I, for one, am really into persimmons especially the "crispy" ones, and when I peel them I feel like I'm peeling a santol.

For folks who know me, I am at a juncture in my life. The last entries have actually been telling that I have been doing my farewell rituals. This includes looking at all my files and getting rid of most of my stuff except for the few that I want to keep. This is how I came across the old letters stuffed deep in the closet. It's been over 15 years since I read those letters and quite frankly, I was excited to read them again.

As to my loneliness though, it is true that I stuck myself in a room for three days. I do not think that my stating this as fact do not necessarily mean I am dwelling on this anymore (although I do have the propensity to do so). I simply wanted to show how much those people in my past meant to me.

But quite honestly though, the initial years were really sad years, in as much as one becomes homesick. And yes, I cried to the point that my tears stopped falling. But to place it in another context now, not to deny the sentiments then, such as mine can be construed as a migrant story, with me somehow affected more, probably because of my make-up.

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Addendum: I actually want to add two more things that struck me after reading the letters.

The first one is that I totally forgot corresponding with Michelle (we've written each other numerous times for about three years, then we stopped writing altogether). That's bad. It would be better if we're friends on facebook (as bad as that sounds) but we're not. I keep looking for her still.

The other thing is that I have always kept in my memory that one of my good friends never liked me, and that is the reason why we parted ways. But after reading his letters, it dawned on me that it was not the case. We were really good friends. And he was as much invested of our "barkada" as I was. Another blunder. Man. Hopefully I can patch things up, however long the time was. Yuck.

When I came to the US, I remember going outside and wondering where all the people are at. The street is deserted: no people, no one to say hi to. Then I went to my room and stayed there for three days.

Anyhow, back then the world wide web hadn't been created so I spent many of those first years doing snail mail. I came across all the reply letters. So I opened them up and took a little trip down memory lane. I had my laughs, with all the gossips and goings-on back then. The other funny part though is that I do not remember a lot of those things written. Somehow, they must have been buried deep into memory (or, if you are one of those believers, those memories were kicked out of my head because my hard drive is full).

Those letters were special to me. That's the reason why I kept them for so long.

To all you from PI who wrote back waaaaayyyy back then: Michelle Samson, Chris S1, Glenn B., Ate Donna, Kaloy, Apra, Cherry, Chetz, Ate Karen, Paul, Lani Andres, Grace Fernandez, Ninette, Teret, Harold (poging taga-Marikina), Ate Christy, Kuya Roland, SB Bocato, Ecel, Maya, Digs... salamat po sa inyo. Paulit-ulit kong pinapakinggan ang Minsan ng Eheads habang binabasa ko ulit mga sulat. Hehe.

Yun lang po.

PS. Daj, alam ko sumulat ka, pero kinain ata ng mga daga yung love letter mo. ngek.

"...What do you really want from me? I know you clearly know why I do not want to establish some kind of friendship with you, right? I am going to fall in love with you again. I cannot just have any friendship with you. I just can't.
"Someone told me it looks like I still haven't forgotten you. I am picking up the pieces of myself I have left and am trying to make sense of the word love once more. I don't think I can ever love somebody as great as I have had for you.
"And if I ever marry, whoever he is, he is damned. I can't give my whole and this is shattering my soul to the point that I might as well be cynical about love..."

-Allie confronting Noah
(in her desperate attempt to move on,
get married with someone else)
The Notebook (2004)

I had a dream some time last week. The setting was located in the site of my high school.

I was in front of the dormitory and a volleyball tournament was happening. There were four players with a mannequin on each side (huh?). I was enjoying watching the competition and I wondered if there was room to come and join in the fun. So I asked Ria if they needed another player. She said sure so I was happy coming in and seeing myself wallop and play in the game.

Right then, I got distracted like everybody else to what was coming from the Oval Field. I overheard someone speaking through a megaphone about a struggle of some sort, something you see in a rally. I cannot quite understand what she (the Teacher) was talking about but I knew it was a legitimate fight. I then went up to the Humanities building and found Mrs. Salac (my Math adviser). I asked her what her opinion is of “the Teacher” speaking over the megaphone. She told me to walk with her and we went to a headquarters room where, I’m assuming, was the headquarters of the group behind the rally because I can see other teachers were sipping their coffee while being busy running around while the megaphone was being heard. She then said she agreed with the Teacher and like many other government teachers they need to fight back at the system that is choking them.

After that I went back to the dormitory and walked up the stairways to my room. I happen to be residing in the third floor at the end of the hallway and I see folks were prepping up to go the class. I looked at my cellphone and it only had one bar. I figured I would be out of luck looking for my friends when my battery runs out. So I went to the landing and I see Getty looking for a smoke. I looked into my pocket ---I had two so I shared one. After he lit the cigarette I asked him where Digbay was because I wanted to tell him I’m back and it was my first day. He said he is still in a class that afternoon. I felt the urge to go see him so we can cut class and go the nearby mall in North Edsa.

Then I woke up. Damn. There was a knock on the door. It was time to help a fiend (I mean friend, hehe) move.

The following is my lazy view of piecing out a part of my life, or the part that I am on the verge of bidding a quite fond farewell. Forgive me if it doesn't make sense. The entry is really made to help me digest what happened.

What happened?

A general view

1991-I came
1992- I went back
1993- I went to a university
1994- I went back
1995- I moved to a new house
1996- My ina died
1997- I concentrated with work
1998- I met a girl
1999- I went back to school
2000- I became active in the union
2001- I became aware of the conditions of my kin
2002- I became active in social issues
2003- I was tirelessly engaging in the fight
2004- I lost my bearing
2005- I stepped down as chief
2006- I started writing poems again
2007- I finally left the industrial living
2008- I finally finished school
2009- I am going back one last time