To the guy who made a lot of tears fall this past week

You can never cheat on Death and just like what I once read during college (memory not serving me optimally at the moment) that death will never be like a vacation that you can decide when to go, or where to go. It's something more like lottery results that you cannot simple predict if you are a new millionaire or not.

I'd like to think that no one really is a fan of deaths, of course for those who practice altruistic suicide or religious suicides, I can never know for sure. But anyway, a death of a family member or a friend or an acquaintance will always cause, more often than not, feelings of shock and sadness. Depression and anger. Or a feeling that seems to drill a big hollow space in one's heart. A hollow space where someone used to be in it, and then suddenly, no longer there.

I am and will never be a fan. Of course I can never predict my own death or a friend's or a family member's. I am not psychic and neither am I a health practitioner. In this uncertainty of the thief's arrival (whether at night or in broad daylight), I am at least sure of one thing--death affects and scars me in ways I myself cannot fully comprehend. Be it a death of a loved one or friend, and more confusingly if a death of someone I barely know or do not know at all. News such as those, once they enter my ears in the form of sound waves, linger as if a grey cloud on top of my head and following me whenever, waiting to downpour.

I always say, "deaths of people I don't even know affects me a lot, what more deaths of people I know?" I tend to float and my brain seems to be malfunctioning every time I hear stories of people who died or just died. This happened very recently and I have been haunted by the sadness for the last week.

He was 20, and died of an acute version of Leukemia. He survived the cancer a couple of years back, and suddenly his illness was back and took away his life in just two weeks. We weren't that close but we had a lot of common friends, and his brother was my batch mate in high school. In 2009, I had my hair shaved for a program for kids with cancer and it was called I AM HOPE. The head-shaving activity was entitled "Be Brave, Get Shaved." It was an act of solidarity for kids with cancer, particularly for the kids of Ateneo Kythe, the organization that spearheaded the activity. But of course, I offered it to him, my friend who had cancer. Luckily his cancer was on an early stage. I told him that he is one of the reasons why I had my head shaved and that he should get well ASAP. He and all the other individuals fighting cancer are the brave ones who fight and inspire us. At least all at stake was my hair, and the possible embarrassment or queries one ordinary girl with shaved head can get.

Fast forward three years after, July 2012, I heard there was a relapse and his illness was back. And it was acute this time. He was told that he had to undergo chemotherapy for six months for maintenance. We were all taken aback and I know that I'll never understand the fear and pain his family, girlfriend, and closest friends felt. He had to stay at the ICU and he was sedated during the first week or so after his return to the hospital. We learned that he underwent kidney dialysis and had a minor surgery and he needed three O+ blood donors every day. We blasted through our networks to search for possible blood donors for screening--tweeting, posting on facebook, texting people, etc. He was very important to a lot of people and it was very evident during the news of the relapse, and even until now.

I am not entirely sure of the coincidence but I had a flight to Cebu during the week he was hospitalized there. I was prepared to donate blood since I have done it before twice. I dropped caffeine, increased water intake, took vitamins, and a whole lot more. What I wasn't prepared for was hours before my flight, we was pronounced dead. And it created a hollow space in my heart, and in the hearts of so many other people who he was a part of. I thought I was to go to the hospital, but instead I went to the memorial chapel. Despite the feelings of loss that was in the atmosphere, there was hope and I really felt it during the first night of his funeral service. His parents were thankful, and very positive. His dad personally wanted to create a database of possible blood donors that will help all other kids with cancer. I genuinely felt that his death was his redemption from all the pains and that he left to be in a place with God with peace and genuine happiness.

Kristian Roy, your family and friends believe that you did put up a good fight. And thank you for touching so many lives in your own makulit way here on earth even during just twenty tender years.

Rest in peace. Have a happy, crazy, peaceful rest with the Almighty. We are praying for you.

Perhaps I do have issues

I have had a lot of chances to watch this film. But I prevented myself because I heard it was heartbreaking. A year after the film was released, I tried to watch in on my computer. But I was very reluctant due to the same reason. Now, two years after its release, I finally had the guts to watch it from the beginning until the end. And true enough—it was heartbreaking. Letting go of toys reminded me of my literal ‘squeeze’ since I was one or two. My pillow with a Hello Kitty pillowcase. I realized after watching Toy Story 3, security pillows can also be called insecurity pillows because you feel more secure when you have them with you and you feel insecure otherwise. I love my pillow as much as Andy loved his toys. But we all have to grow up just like Andy. And animated as this second sequel may be, even as I was reading the reviews tonight after the film, my tears still flow like waterfalls. Thank you, Mr. Tissue Paper. Letting go of things we have learned to love is always painful but nonetheless, it is a sign of growth. 

A Very Big, Secure, and Thick Bubble

Seek your own space where you'll find peace of mind. A space that will enable you to run from all the worries surrounding you. A particular place where you are sheltered inside a very big, secure, and thick bubble that no one can easily pop.

Hold onto the idea of a certain sacred space that is all yours. No one can take it from you. Remember that. You are entitled to that space of peace that you have created.

Live and breathe. And when you have all the air you need, and when you've found all the peace that has been lacking so far, open the door of that very big, secure, and thick bubble and go out. Live and breathe. Experience life by living. Learn. Get hurt. Stand up. Smile. Cry.

When you can no longer hold back because of new found fear and pain, look back. The very big, secure, and thick bubble is still there, with the door ajar.

Enter your space of peace when you need it. It doesn't make you weak. It just proves you're human.

Smile. Live. Breathe. Love.

My hair is dreaded. but it's cleaner now (i just don't have a more recent photo). At least people can guess my name easily. No mispronunciations, no misspellings--just a remembrance of the most popular person with dreadlocks..my namesake and uncle :)

Youngblood

Stars in my Palms (Published on the Inquirer last March 31, 2012) So here’s the thing. I was hit by the nostalgia bug after seeing photos of my closest college friends having a get-together because in the not too distant past, I enjoyed being with them in similar gatherings. I don’t feel bad. Not at all. It’s just that I miss them. Not just them, but all the other friends I have who are scattered around the country and overseas. And yes, in essence, they are far from me. It sometimes hits me that I have this reality in me—a passion for adventure and a love for the uncomfortable and the unconventional. My heart takes my feet and my dreams carry me wherever; I don’t know where I’ll settle eventually. Some attribute my carefree ways to my being born under the sign of the horse in the Chinese zodiac. I don’t really know for sure about the zodiac thing, but I am indeed carefree. I am always led by the course of the wind here and there. Mostly because of a purpose, and I’d like to think it is a great purpose. I lived 16 years in a small city in the Visayas. Then I spent four years in Luzon for college. And now, currently, I am in Mindanao doing volunteer work for agrarian reform beneficiaries (ARBs). I initially thought it would just be a one-year stint here, as indicated in our volunteer program, but somehow circumstances at work led me to extending my stay. Maybe for a little while, maybe for some time, maybe for good—I don’t know exactly. I have always been like a person’s fleeting memory from a childhood past. Sometimes the memory returns like a homing bird to someone’s senses, but most of the time, it’s flying and trying to spread its wings. Funny how recently, a farmer-leader that I work with at my institution told me to hold up my palm. We were attending a market chain seminar for farm products. She was staring at something that seemed quite interesting in the web of my palm lines. She said there were stars formed in the intersections of my palm lines—meaning, according to her research and inquiries, that a lot of people will depend on me and actually need me. Perhaps it’s so. I am working with a confederation of people’s organizations, and the primary group I am assigned to is perhaps the most popular of ARBs in the country. I work as a community organizer and an agro-enterprise facilitator for the farmers’ cooperative. I was assigned to the institution after I applied for a volunteer program. The institution needed a community organizer and an enterprise facilitator for the area, and I was matched with it. Yes, indeed, perhaps I am needed in my work. It manifests in the fact that I was assigned to work here for just a year and yet, because of the “need” and the circumstances, I am very much encouraged to extend my stay. People I work with, farmers mostly, tell me how grateful they are that I am with them and assisting them in their concerns. Some even directly tell me to stay because the cooperative needs someone to continually aid its development. Oh, boy! Isn’t that flattering and pressuring at the same time? Admittedly, I love it here and I love what I do. It may be very stressful and challenging at times but, yes, as a famous Filipino movie line goes, “I care about my job, sir.” I do care about my job, because there are stars in my palms and farmers are depending on me. These are not words of arrogance but an affirmation that I am needed, and in the need, I feel wanted and welcomed and even more challenged to deliver and to fulfill the development concerns of the cooperative. With the feeling of being needed, I discover their potential as farmers and as a cooperative, and I, too, discover myself in more ways than I can ever imagine. It is not a high-paying job. Well, let me correct that. As a volunteer, I don’t get paid at all; instead, I am given a monthly allowance that is just half of what I used to get when I was in college. Some of my college batch mates are working in famous corporations, some also in development work, and others, pursuing postgraduate studies. It is challenging here, yes, but even before entering the volunteer program, I knew what it entailed. Living miles away from home and budgeting a modest allowance—I must say, indeed, I am a fan of the uncomfortable. But I don’t feel bad at all. Instead, if this is any feeling at all, this is truly liberating! I don’t know how long I will stay here or if I will forever be an adventurer treading paths that others would not dare take. But I believe there are two things sure for me: first, that I have been changed forever by the choices I have made, leaving and building new friendships, leaving again and creating new relationships once more; and second, I will always miss the people I love, met and who have changed me in one way or another, because in being quite nomadic and adventurous and passionate to change the world, my physical absence has had its repercussions and consequences. Perhaps I can’t take away from my system my habit of leaving and exploring new things. I don’t leave because it’s comfortable to do so; it usually isn’t. I leave because I dance to the rhythm of my heart and my purpose, and I go wherever God takes me. I know that my purpose is a real purpose in itself because God continually helps shape it. I may miss the friends’ gatherings that I don’t get to attend, and I may miss even more the people who are in those events. But then again I realize that they will always be in my heart. And I’ll continue to go wherever this heart takes my feet, wherever the wind leads my purpose, and wherever God wants me to be. I take with me the people I love and care for as I dance away in loving service. After all, there are stars in the web of my palm lines; I am needed here, and I know the people I left will understand. Leaving has its purposes and I have a purpose to animate. I left, yes. But I left to live—to live for something greater than myself and to be life-giving to others as well. Jemika Kathryn F. Soledad, 21, is a political science graduate of Ateneo de Manila University. She now works in Sumilao, Bukidnon, for Pakisama NW-Mindanao.

Asterism

Careless as the water. Carefree as the Wind.
The Deneb of Cygnus
--the brightest at its tail
The chest of the Archer, a centaur. The ninth.
It took one look at the target, the result an Aldebaran.
A hit. Not a miss.
It was a Cassiopeia to a Polaris.

I want to be somebody like Ms. Vene Rallonza

(PHOTO COURTESY OF VINCE ESCARCHA)

This is Ms. Vene Rallonza, my POS 180.27 professor. And after a semester of politics in alternative spaces, I realized how much I'd want to be like her.

One year and 3 months ago, before I even met Maam Vene, I had a shaved head and it was a statement of my politics and my advocacy. Some people would constantly tell me that I remind them of a Political Science professor in the Ateneo. Being the POS major that I was, I knew that this certain Ms. Rallonza was never encountered by myself in any formal (or even informal) circumstance.

Then I took her Politics in the Margins class. A class that killed all the boredom that is politics. We saw how politics exist and even thrive in marginalized, unusual spaces and how, despite the marginalization of these alternative spaces, we saw as a class that politics can be very fun, exciting and well appreciated.

We had big time speakers for several Thursdays. We had Dr. Bong, Joey Ayala, Auraeus Solito, Jalton of Sugarfree and Dr. Contreras. My personal favorite was Mr. Joey Ayala because I got really starstrucked by his presence.

But what is most striking for me about Maam Vene and her class is her attitude towards her own politics. She is not scared to be unique and that trait is what I appreciate very much. Her attachment and sincere connection with Filipino roots and traditions as manifested by her inked body and her manner by which she shares this with her family make me look up to her even more.

Ang cool ng pamilya nila. HAHAHAHA :)) Kita naman sa picture na 'to. Naikuwento ni Maam Vene ang pagsali ng anak niya sa contest na 'to at sinabi niya sa amin na siya na ata ang pinaka-supportive na nanay na nandoon sa venue, given nga na ang mga contestants na lalaki ng mga nanay na naroon ay nagdamit at nagkilos babae. Sabi ko rin dati nung mas bata pa ako na gusto ko tatawagin akong "Nanay" ng mga anak ko. And nalaman ko nalang sa class ko na si Maam Vene ay "Nanay" kung tawagin ng mga anak niya. Tapos pupunta pa sila next week sa Kalinga Apayao para magpatattoo yung anak niyang nasa picture. Hangcoooooooool talaga at 'di ako ma-over.

-Kalbo
-Nanay ang tawag
-Maraming tattoo
-Theater actress
-Cool mom
-Artist
-Unique and really brave
-Educator
-Funny and loud
-Very supportive

Grabe, katakot pala na karamihan ng ugali ko/hilig ko/gusto ko in the future ay nagmamanifest sa isang being. Pwede pala yun. HAHAHAHA :))

Last night was an awesome night for me and my classmates in POS180.27 -- sa conclusion ng class namin through LUNAN: One Night Only, nakita kong nag-pay off talaga ang galing at passion ni Maam sa pagtuturo. SNAPS FOR HER :>

Idol talaga kita. :)