Like Cotton Seeds

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These last few days and up until now, it has been raining cotton balls here in the University of the Philippines. What they call here as American cotton trees have seen shooting these balls, covering the green lawn in the Freedom Park with soft whiteness. Even the surrounding willow and acacia trees are covered with them, much like snow coating the pines. These cotton balls each have a seed inside which when lucky to land on good soil and be protected, will grow to become another mighty tree. Here, it is believed that the shower of cotton signify the end of the semester and the celebration of graduation. Indeed, graduation rites in the University will be held days from now.

Heroes, et al.

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Over the recent years, I have been downloading and watching my favorite childhood animated TV series. I already had a complete copy of X-Men: The Animated Series (aired in the early 90’s), Full Metal Alchemist, Mushishi, Hunter X Hunter, Fushigi Yugi, and One Piece (which is my most favorite anime). And just this minute, I found out that Power Rangers celebrated their 20^th anniversary. A Youtube video of several Red Rangers (presumably from different versions of the action show) going around key places in the US is a huge hit in many social media.

Passing

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Since the jeepney going around the campus does not pass by our building, I have to walk some good distance, maybe a five- to ten-minute walk on broken and crowded sidewalks. It must have been the cold late morning, or the greenness around me that I felt kind of overjoyed with my walk. Never mind that I slept late again last night, or I still have several papers to make, or that there are impending exams by March. Nah, I just did not mind them, I was really into my walk.

For Justice: A Fateful Reunion

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....Continued from For Justice: Victims of War

It was not vengeance his reason for joining the rebel group. It was principle. It was apprehension that made Julio see the yearning and travail in them.  It was a felt obligation for they were his own kind. It was a matter of faith and blood.

“There’s a place for everyone,” Andres had said, “but there’s none for us.”

The Flowers Have Gone

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Two years ago, I wrote this piece about my graduating students....

There were showers of garlands everywhere – garlands of fresh flowers and plastic ones, few have notes with message like “Congratulations!” or “Happy graduation!”.  But I could not smell the fragrance of these flowers for the day was hot, the heat of dry ground and the occasional gust of fine dust fouled the air. Nonetheless, nothing could stop the festivity as sweaty faces smiled to each flash of the camera.

Lessons From My Students

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It has been a number of years now since I started teaching at the local university. It has been very hard at the beginning since I was hired the same year I graduated. My first students were my “friends” and “fellows”, and it was really kind of awkward being addressed as “Sir” and shifting relationships from their “big brother” to their “teacher”. I soon got the hang of it and finally enjoyed my job.

A Lighted Candle

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Almost five years ago, a year after my father's death, I wrote this sad recollection....

As noisy as it had been, the house is now peaceful. Friends and relatives who came to commemorate with us my father’s first death anniversary had now left. And as lonely as the stillness that enveloped our home are my father’s memories, which a few hours ago, we joyfully shared.

Random Thoughts

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There are times when we are too tired that our head takes on random pieces of thoughts. On this subject that I wrote this article six years ago in my Friendster account....

You are walking hand in hand with her, the afternoon breeze blowing the folds of her skirt, her eyes sparkling for every word she says or for every smile she does. The grassed path is gentle beneath your treads. And the earth smells of life and happiness.

Alone: A Sad Past

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.... Continued from Alone: A New Friend

“You’re special,” the mistress of the House had said the first time he came. “Don’t fear. We will help you. We’ll give you all the joy and love and goodness in this world.”

Young Elias, clod in rags, with eyes swollen and bruises all over his tiny body, had been frightened of the fat lovely woman, of the friendly children around him, of the enormous house. Everything had been too horrible. Even in his  bed, his first bed, soft, scented and clean, he had been crying, hearing howls and screams, seeing hands hitting him, tasting blood in his mouth. He flinched from touch; he hated people. Those early days, he had been uncontrollable.

The Road Much Taken

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Nearly two years ago, after a devastating earthquake overwhelmed Japan, I wrote this short reflection....

For more than eight years now, I have been traveling through this road on my way to the office. For this morning, and even for the past mornings, I found it hard to maneuver my motorcycle through this road. The path is really sandy, and along the way, there are humps and holes.

Gravity

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Years ago (though I feel this must have happened decades or ages ago), when I was younger and more restless, I wrote this piece over a very bad hangover....

I woke up this morning with a terrible headache and a very bad breath. I got home at around three this morning and the few hours of sleep were making me too dizzy. Nonetheless, I had to get up and start the day despite my protesting eyes.

My Father and I

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Two years ago, I wrote this short memorial about my father.... 

Today is my father’s third death anniversary. Three years have already passed but it seems like yesterday. Not that I have not moved on with my life without him, or that I am still haunted with his memories. I simply missed him.

In Twenty Years

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When I was 23, I wrote this reflection....

It’s Mark Twain’s words. I forget the exact quote (sorry Twain) since I only had a glimpse of it on the wall (when I was passing through the hallway) of a company office months ago. It goes something like this: In 20 years, you will be more disappointed not by the things you did, but by the things you did not do.

Like a cassette tape rewinding, my mind had instantly raced back to my memories twenty years ago. And yes, I could not remember any good thing. Damn, twenty years ago I was only three years old - still the unknowing kid. LOL

You is My Friend

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I was roaming through my cabinet when I stumbled upon my old “treasure chest”. It is quite childish but like me, I supposed everyone has a “treasure chest”. Whether it is literally a box, an album of favorite photographs, or more modern, a cache of personal blogs. My “treasure chest” is a large biscuit can with its tin already rusting with age. It is circular and heavy. Then I opened the tight lead of the can, bang the tin shouted, and out popped my letters.