Paalam, FC

The sky was overcast when I got to UP the day after the Faculty Center was razed by a fire. Seeing the building that housed the brightest minds of the nation, the repository of innumerable books, artworks, researches, documents and records burned down to its concrete shell was enough to bring one to tears. It was an indescribable loss.

When I read the news of the tragedy, I refused to believe it even if the photos seemed real enough. In futile resistance trying to convince myself that it was but a terrible April Fool's joke.

Because how can FC, the first building I stepped into as a UP student, the very same hall that witnessed the most fruitful years of my education, just...turn to ashes?

And even when I saw it in person on Saturday, the shock and grief still refuse to set in. Maybe all these years, even with recognizing how fragile FC could be, I believed that the very same building will remain a fixture in the Acad Oval. That years and years hence, generations after generations, FC will forever house CAL and CSSP departments: the professors continuously building up their piles of books and references to use in class, working and reflecting on their life's work, sharing ideas that shape the nation, the students submitting (and performing!) the products of their toil in the very same building, making countless memories attached to the very same space.

Seeing it in shambles, the roof collapsed, charred debris all over, windows broken–it was too much of a heartbreak. It took me back to the time when I alighted the jeepney for my first day of class in UP. Bulwagang Rizal, the sign says. Like my section in high school, IV-Rizal. And instantly, I felt connected, subduing my misgivings about journeying in college alone, without my friends. From then on, I would always be within FC's proximity during my stay in UP. Meeting up with friends, consulting with my professors and the EL department, enlisting in classes, visiting the exhibits, occasionally transacting records business at CAL101, having lunch at Katag... I can only imagine the loss and grief of the professors who had made FC their home in UP.

Tributes to FC have been made by UP's sons and daughters who thrived within and beyond the academe, who had longer and stronger connection to its hallowed halls and rooms, who stayed truer to everything the College taught them. 

Me, I'm just one of the many students who had the opportunity to call FC my first home, back then a freshman/sophomore who tried to find her way in the university, who sought the comfort of FC's dimmed hallways to pass the time, who read and marveled at the posters and signs telling a room's significance or a luminary's contribution to literature and the arts. It was, without fail, the place where I found refuge when the din and the loneliness I feel in CMC became too much to bear.

From the ashes, the phoenix will rise, so the prose goes. And what a phoenix FC had been, lighting the way of the nation's arts, history, humanities. But however FC is reborn, its former incarnation will remain ingrained in UP's identity.

It was a loss--of art, history, of collective memories--quite unlike any other. It's a farewell immeasurably saddening and devastating.

Paalam, FC. Maraming salamat. Hanggang sa muli. 

A from-from-miserable Saturday

For the longest time, I thought my dream of watching Les Misérables would only come true if I ever get to reach West End in London, which is quite a far-off dream in itself already. So when the news came in October last year that a production will run the show in Manila, my friends and I did not miss a heartbeat and bought tickets. Deciding then and there that I'm taking Gabriel with me, even if he wasn't a fan. (I had months to make him one, and of course I was successful. :)))

Aside from having to go so far in the souuuutttthhh, our March 19 Les Mis Adventure was a great experience, getting to watch a piece of theater that has captured the hearts of millions for the past 30 years. And though the chosen venue for the show's Philippine run—an upscale hub of gambling—can make you do a double-take considering the theme of Victor Hugo's chef-d'oeuvre, we dared not miss the chance.

Let the wine of friendship never run dry. 💃 Boublil-Schönberg Babies 💙❤💛 Sorry for having cried too much. #lesmismanila #postmusicaldepression 😂

A photo posted by Riza Atienza (@_rizaatienza) on Mar 20, 2016 at 6:47am PDT

It was another Boublil-Schönberg work that introduced me and my friends to musicals, in the form of Miss Saigon, back in 2004. For more than a decade, we only had our imagination to accompany the emotional songs and the sweeping orchestra music. It was only in 2011 that I began to earnestly learn more about Les Mis and its incarnations, most notably the Boublil-Schönberg musical.

I know it's going to sound too cheesy, too Romantic (capital R for Grantaire haha), but when I came upon the fate of Les Amis de l'ABC, of Enjolras and the rest of the #BarricadeBoys, I was affected to the core. At that point, I was about to graduate and embark on the adult life, trying to figure out my purpose and my path. And there they were, merely schoolboys, so passionate about their cause and even dying for it. What grander sacrifice to live and die for La Patria? How full is the heart that aches for a brighter future, not for the self, but for the trodden ones? 

Before getting into the theater, like the millenials that we are, we goofed around and posed for pictures in front of the posters. Here's me clasping Enjolras's hand, and all of us joining the cause of the Amis. :))

 

Needless to say, I was in shambles by the start of the Second Act until the end. That Gavroche-Grantaire Hug, the two whom I call the lost boys, broke me for real. In fact, it's all downhill from Drink With Me. I just feel so much for these young idealists, it's so absurd and embarrassing. And my heart swelled and got crushed in turn for the story of Valjean and Cosette—two worthy people who deserve utter and complete happiness.

Of course, the whole of the play was amazing. All the time, the word that kept springing to my mind was "evocative." It was the whole point of the work, to make people pine and cry and laugh and hope with the characters. (But mostly cry, haha.) The stellar performance of the actors (so, so, so good), the incredible and fascinating set (super gandaaaaa), the topnotch scoring and gorgeous costumes, all melded into a complete emotional roller coaster of an experience. Les Mis explores humanity and love, justice and mercy, survival and selflessness, which the musical translated into evocative performances. It was surreal to have finally been able to see it live. 

Hey, Orestes. The people of Manila have stirred and don't seem to be abandoning you just yet. :)) 

Someday, when I get to watch it again, I will go to the stage door and see the actors in the flesh. Haha! Fangirl. Nonetheless, it was also a great way celebrate our official 15th month together, though Gabriel and I never really do "monthsaries."  

Too bad we weren't able to take photos with Marifel and her sister, since they were heading the other way while we had to go back north. Haha. We ended the day with some ramen, and we patted ourselves on the back for embarking on another episode of #TitasofSanMateo. :))

Paradox and bullet points

Crazy how the days seem to pass me by. So much happened for the past few weeks, including the anxiety for my application for an overseas workshop, all the drama that went (goes) with my bid for a higher position in the office, my first Bicol and Singapore trips–both with Gabriel, my never-ending to-do list here at work, stocking up on frustration information and references for post grad studies, #AteDuties at home... 

These past few weeks, I got really close to conceding in that one fight I promised I would see to the end. Suddenly, I just got so tired of taking the "moral high ground," so utterly confused as to why some people can be just so mean, so intent on bringing others down. It's toxic, but I need to remind myself that I'm in a position where I have a lot to be grateful for. And I thank my ultimate stressball (♥) for reminding me this, too. That I didn't do anything wrong, that I'm putting up a good, clean fight. And it's not only for myself, but for the chance to bring about change.

See, I've learned that when you get to be in a position that commands respect, you have the capacity to implement change and make others follow your example. This is what I will strive to do, with the opportunities that I have. To not denounce in broad strokes, but to realize–and act on–the fact that I have what it takes to bring about positivity and improvement.

Everyone is fighting their own battles. I am wont to get envious of others, to be disdainful of where I am now, which is, more or less a gray area. But a gray area that does people good, even if they don't know it.  It can be condemned by the highest of highs and lowest of lows, and it's sad when I witness such. But as Gang Badoy once said during a meeting, "It is unfair, that the other side can say things freely and you have to be the bigger man. But it's the way it is, and you need to work from there." Non-verbatim, of course. 

I probably am not making much sense with such vagueness. Haha. I guess I'm just a little flummoxed with everything that's happening, and everything that I have to deal with lately.

Tough march, tough March. But let's carry on.

Catching up with the two's and five's and one's of 2015: 25

I have officially been 25 years old for the last three months. Despite 25 being just a number, it really is some sort of a checkpoint for me. "Mid-20's" sounds different from, and weighs much more than, just "20's." I am not the most forgiving person, most especially of myself, and so almost every day since I turned 25, I have been chastising myself for not being able to be who I imagined myself to be at this age. #quarterlifecrisis indeed. *heavy sigh*

But Neil Gaiman, in his previous New Year's wish, told people to 

Be kind to yourself in the year ahead.

Remember to forgive yourself, and to forgive others. It's too easy to be outraged these days, so much harder to change things, to reach out, to understand.

Try to make your time matter: minutes and hours and days and weeks can blow away like dead leaves, with nothing to show but time you spent not quite ever doing things, or time you spent waiting to begin.

Meet new people and talk to them. Make new things and show them to people who might enjoy them.

Hug too much. Smile too much. And, when you can, love.

I am guilty of excusing myself for not doing things, because as the eldest in the family, I have to take into consideration others first before I decide on things for myself. I now figured that aside from giving in to the detrimental habit of blaming circumstances, such mindset also takes away my agency. So, in my bid to be kind(er) to myself this year, I will endeavor to look at things on a different light. Instead of telling myself that being a sort of a breadwinner inhibits me to pursue the things I want for myself, I shall consider myself instrumental in the little joys and victories we achieve. Now, we have an engineer in the family and the young'uns are growing up to be decent kids. We have a long way to go but we're not doing so bad. :)

It is going to be tough, what with the weight being so often placed on my shoulder. Oftentimes, I feel like I'm being forced to disregard the things I want for myself. It's hard not to feel deprived of the choices others seem to have, which leads me back to making excuses for myself.

So instead, I will forgive myself. I will forgive myself for not being able to do things I want to because of one reason or another. Not excusing myself though. But forgiving myself helps me recognize that some things are beyond my control. At the same time, it also allows me to recognize that I have (and made) my own lapses. And that the only way to deal with it is to do better next time. 

It's going to be hard. And even now, I still fall into little bouts of despair because I never seem to be getting anywhere still. But when I consider what happens outside my own bubble, I know I have already made things happen–whether because of grit or  kindness, or of hard work or courage, of understanding, or all of the above.

I shan't be too hard on myself, but I won't settle either. "Hustle, but be kind," is what I will tell myself moving forward.

And as Neil said, create.  And, when you can, love.

Catching up with the two's and five's and one's of 2015: 12

The eleventh twelfth month of the year (and the first month ostensibly so) is really the busiest.

At work, we had a little too much fun (and effort) decorating our office for the Christmas decor contest in the Department. It was funny how the mechanics called for only recycled materials to be used, but we spent some thousands painting and putting all of them together. Haha. The Department Christmas party, my second (since the supposed first one was cancelled in light of the disaster wrought by Typhoon Yolanda), is the last one with the same group of senior leaders. Our bosses, and maybe the way Christmas parties are held, will be different come 2016. Our office also participated in a fellowship where, as was last Halloween, we presented a "number." Despite winning just the second place, I can definitely say we all enjoyed preparing for it. The Department also had a special free screening of Heneral Luna for the employees, which I think was a really good holiday treat for everyone who watched.

Aside from the Christmas parties at work, I also accompanied Gabriel to the Christmas dinners and get-togethers he had for his work and friends. It was really nice to be able to meet (and interact and play games with and exchange gifts with and enjoy the company of) Gabriel's colleagues and friends.

For 2015, our relatives on my father's side had an impromptu Christmas reunion. Originally, our family would just be visiting our grandmother in Marikina. But the rest of the company showed up as well, and we had food delivered. The pamangkins (excluding the working ones huhuhu :))) got their aguinaldo, and the tito's and the tita's caught up on the tsikas. I almost didn't join the folks for the visit, wanting to just stay at home. I'm glad I did, considering that one of my tito's and his family would be migrating to the US early this 2016.

Our high school barkada, meanwhile, took advantage of Gabriel's hospitality and held our year-end get-together at his house. Haha. There we played games, and played games, and stuffed our faces with food. We called up Gellie in Japan and had her update us on her life abroad. She's getting married this year! We had a blast over our Secret Santa gifts, and since it was the eve of Claire's birthday, we got her a cake and some bullying. :)) It was fun, even if we weren't complete. I guess it will still be a long time before we ever get complete again. But I am grateful, as always, for another year of friendship with the most fun and wonderful people I ever had the opportunity to meet.

For the New Year (I'm including it here, since it's part of the Holiday hullabaloo), we had our traditional annual reunion on my mother's side. It's amazing how the tradition is being upheld for as long as I can remember. We had lots of food (and amazing cakes, man) and laughter and chatter. Because many of the "kids" from way back when are now adults earning their keep, it was fun how us cousins were giving aguinaldo to our fellow cousins. It was a riot, as always, and I wouldn't trade the rowdiness of our reunions every New Year's Day for anything.

It was also this December that Gabriel and I celebrated the first anniversary of our "official" relationship. But more on that on a separate post. :))