As much as I don't want to, I have to

I guess the fact that I've been delaying this post says so much about me: A lot of people who know me too well know how I dread coming into terms with things, especially with goodbyes. I could go on and write about the many farewells I encountered and made during my almost-four years of college, but that wouldn’t really add up my entire experience of utter sadness and sheer hopelessness—feelings that I, like most people, would normally associate goodbye with.

Last Tuesday, October 4th, our class held an exposition that featured creative and healthy ways on how to deal with grief. We had chocolates and pizza for comfort food, a freedom wall for self-expression, a darts wall for anger management, and a couple of beanbags with a giant teddy bear for relaxation. Our main goal was to present grief not as something to be completely sad about, but that there’s more to any grief experience than just the negative feelings. At the end of the day, I think we did pretty well, granted that we only had the weekend to prepare.


I was glad to see people dropping by the area that day. Most of them were at the peak of their hell week and saw our expo as a sort of break, especially from their worries. While I admit that some of them were only there for the freebies, I found a number of them who really found Good Grief! helpful:

• There was this girl who spent 30 minutes sobbing while writing a letter to be posted on the freedom wall
• Another was a guy who, although we were already cleaning up the place because the expo was over, insisted that he expresses himself by writing something for the wall
• There was also this lady who hogged the darts area for 20 minutes or so because she was so troubled by the low grades she’s getting in a certain class

These observations really opened my eyes and made me realize that the Ateneo community somehow does need a class such as the one we are taking now. There aren’t much avenues provided for both students and teachers to deal with their loss appropriately. A required annual guidance interview is not enough assistance, if you ask me. Some students are just forced to go, not even opening up to the counsellors. We often fail to recognize the many hardships teenagers face at this stage in their lives. Perhaps all they really need is just a simple push so that these long-hidden frustrations can come out. However, they don’t have the knowledge on how to work their way through these problems.

Overall, I think our expo was a success not only because of the 155 attendees or the fact that all our supplies such as food and art materials were used up, but also that there were a lot of people who stopped by not for the chocolates but to question and listen intently on what our project really was for. And they weren’t exactly weirded out by it, as most of us would’ve when someone talks to us about a sad topic like grief and loss. In fact, majority of them agreed that Good Grief was a unique project and that it was useful for them. And of course, we were so happy to hear that.

* * *
I believe that, without a doubt, I deserve an A as a final grade for this class because I’ve worked relentlessly well on my papers and blog entries, studied hard for the midterm examinations (and pulled through!), organized and helped out in whatever way I can during the final project, and still able to raise my hand and recite in class almost all the time—all that, in spite of the hectic schedule senior year brings. Besides, although people assured me that such a class would be easy, my performance wasn’t marred with mediocrity and I didn’t do things “for the sake of doing them.” I personally found this class very helpful in dealing with my problems and would most definitely encourage others to take this elective as well.

Thank you for everything, Miss Cathy! See you around!

The calm before, the storm, and the year after

Perhaps this is going to be one of my last posts for this blog, since later we'll be holding our last class session and then after that, we're done. Quite frankly, I'm excited on how our event will go. I hope a lot of people can drop by and try out all our stations. Then there's dinner care of Miss Cathy! Today will be all kinds of awesome, I'm sure of it!

And I guess it's pretty timely. I am one for celebrating anniversaries, a lot of people know that. To be able to move on and to forget--both the hello and the goodbye: I must thank you.

When the sun rises and sets with you

It's been such a long week, I can't begin to write about how it transpired. In the meantime, I'd like to share with you this music video that I've heard and seen weeks ago and every time I encounter it, it never fails to make me cry.

It was written and performed by one of my favorite artists, AJ Rafael, whose songs I've grown to love ever since I first heard them back in freshman year. This Filipino's a genius with words so I'd rather let him explain the real story behind the final product:

My Godfather, "Kuya" Frank, passed away last October after a 4-year long battle with cancer and it struck a familiar feeling in my gut. My Dad passed away when I was 10 and the reailty of losing another father figure really hit me hard.

I wrote this song not about a death or losing someone to an illness, but about wanting to be with someone so bad that you couldn't go another day without them--but this song spoke differently to my Kuya Frank's wife Ate Rhea. She told me that she listened to this song as if it was Kuya Frank singing to her, fighting for her, and wanting to be there for her through all of this. Thus, the original concept for this video was born and it stuck in my head--and I pray that this video helps you realize that you are not alone in your struggle, whether it is you or a loved one going through it.

Don't forget to let your loved ones know that you love them... We never know what tomorrow might bring.

More stories soon, I'm so tired from the two-hour midterm exams we had earlier. But all is well!

ISFJ

It didn't come to me as a surprise either! It's been about two years since I took the longer version of this Myers-Briggs Type Indicator test and the results are still the same. Good to know that some things never change.

Click to enlarge!

In other news, exams went well. I guess. Or so I think. I hope I did okay.

Never forget who you are

Call me boring but I was never fond of action films. Growing up, the only movies I wanted to watch fall under the romantic comedy (or drama, sometimes) category—making suspense, horror, and action completely out of the picture. I was too safe a girl; even my movie choices were limited to those that have happy endings. So you wouldn’t imagine my reaction when we were asked to watch and write a reflection paper on Colombiana.

Because of my ignorant and naïve nature though, I didn’t even know what it was about. I was too busy with my other classes that I didn’t allot some time to take a glimpse at the movie trailer. I thought it was going to be yet another tear-jerker since those kinds would be (obviously) relevant to our class. But when a friend of mine who recently watched the movie in the cinema addressed the lead character as “killer,” my expectations were proven to be wrong. Although I wouldn’t want to see the film for myself, I had to and so I did.

It wasn’t that bad, to tell you the truth. But I believe it could’ve been better. I honestly wouldn’t want to watch this movie if it weren’t a requirement. I was predisposed to not like action films because they promote violence in a long span of an hour and thirty minutes to two hours. It just wasn’t my cup of tea. Anything that involves the police or the FBI only means a lot of complications a romantic comedy fan like me can’t exactly understand. If I had the chance to review it, I could’ve taken a huge amount of points off because of the excessive time allotment for gunshots and bombings. The plot and storyline was simple enough: a girl witnessed and so wants to avenge her parents’ death. I wished they left it at that.

But before I get ahead of myself, there were some points I would like to focus on. First would be the family dynamics in the film. At an early age of nine, Cataleya witnessed how her parents were killed by one of the men of her father’s boss. Cataleya’s dad, Fabio, decided to leave his life of drug smuggling but his boss Don Luis, despite giving him his blessing and wishing him well, wanted him killed. Fully aware of his coming demise, Fabio planned to flee and bring his family with him. As I’ve observed, Cataleya was trained well to survive in case something bad happens. She was equipped and knowledgeable on what to do next. Fortunately, she was able to escape the hands of her parents’ murderers. She travelled all the way from Columbia to US to live with her tiyo Emilio and her grandmother. They became her family from then on.

She was particularly close to her uncle; he brought her to school and then taught her to be a killer. She learned everything she could while living under their roof. In the same way as Cataleya’s parents died, her tiyo’s son was also killed. This event made him want to avenge his son—just like how, in years later, Cataleya too would try to avenge her parents. She worked as her uncle’s hitman and at the same time finding a way to avenge her parents’ death. To date she killed 23 people.

By the end of the movie, we see Cataleya getting on a bus for an unknown destination. The police weren’t able to catch her and since she has already gotten her revenge and killed the people involved in her parent’s death, I believe she might consider starting over. She might possibly stop being a killer. Besides, her “boyfriend” Danny, who doesn’t even know anything about her, claims that he loves her. At least she has something to look forward to in her “new life.”

Throughout the course of the film, what really struck me most was that Cataleya always had an escape plan. Even at an unguarded territory and in places she has never been to, she knows how to work her way through and around it. She has been taught well to be able to develop those skills. Unfortunately, this made me see the film as pure fiction because in reality, we don’t really have escape plans—or at least not all of us are fully aware of it. She was just lucky to have them.

Also, I know growing up without parents and without knowing what will happen to you as you travel across the world into the place where your dad said you’ll be safe in is pretty tough, but Cataleya didn’t show a hint of fear or sadness only until she was reunited with her tiyo. This inability to feel was further developed in her growing years and was evident in her acts of killing and murder.

Perhaps another lesson I got from the movie was that we should allow children to grieve and express themselves. Parents should be able to guide them through their emotions day-by-day, instead of just letting them do it by themselves. That way, hidden anger would be well understood. Tiyo didn’t know about Cataleya’s other agenda (killing people who took part in the death of her parents) until it was published on newspapers. This made him very angry and disappointed. Through this, I have seen that open communication is a must for every family and group. We’ll never know what’s going on in the minds of others unless we engage in conversations with them and try to address these problems.

And finally, for my last point, I have learned in the film that traumatic experiences from childhood really, for most people, stay and change the way they view life. Sometimes these events can even be the motive to do other things, evidently seen in Cataleya’s life. If not guided and taught appropriately, children will grow up not knowing right from wrong. I guess I’m very much thankful that despite the number of trails and challenges I’ve faced in my life, my family and friends have been very supportive and helped me cope with those undertakings. I know that I’ll have a good life in the future because I have been taught well while I was growing up.

Two of a kind

If my twin sister Karina dies...

Whenever people find out that I have a twin sister, they always ask me what it’s like. Their questions range from the usual “How does it feel to have and be a twin?” to the most bizarre (but still very common) “When she gets sick, do you get sick as well?” or simply put “Do you feel a certain kind of sadness when she does?” I’d answer them as honestly as I could—the obvious and expected no to the weird questions and the countless “I don’t knows” to the usual ones.

To tell you quite frankly, I can’t explain what life is like having a twin sister. Perhaps it’s due to the very fact that it’s the only life I have. Everything I do is with her. We had the same set of clothes, friends, rooms, and things growing up. I don’t even say “I” as much as I say “we.” I barely say “I live in…” but “We live in...” We’re a buy-one take-one kind of thing. We’re a team.

It’s funny though, to be asked what would happen if she dies *knocks on wood* or if I never had a twin. It had been something I’ve been asking myself since we were little kids. I don’t get it; people want to have twin children or be a twin themselves when they fail to understand how being one isn’t as fun as they expect it to be.

You see, to have a prettier, smarter and nicer sister like Karina isn’t all highs. Being the lesser twin has been a life-long challenge for me. I always have to prove that I too can be as good or maybe even better than her. Whatever she does, I have to do twice as hard. It’s as if her very existence is a threat to mine. And it becomes frustrating as each day passes because people has undying love of a habit to compare us.

Good thing we (mostly I) surpassed the comparisons when we reached fifth grade (maybe because of the separation of our parents). Our bond got stronger; we became the best of friends and promised to help our mom with taking care of our family.

All the while I thought it would be us, together forever, but that changed when she went on her Junior Term Abroad in Singapore for five months. Prior to her trip, the longest time I haven’t been with her was a week. So her JTA posed another problem: I had to learn how to do things on my own and finally move at my own pace. I must admit it was really hard for me because I have been very dependent on my sister. But I guess at some point I just have to grow up, and this was the perfect opportunity.

In the event that she dies, it would be sad, to say the least. Since we don’t really live with our family for four years now because of college, her passing would greatly affect me compared to our other siblings. It’s certain that I would grieve for her everyday. Despite that, her death wouldn’t stop me from pursuing our goal of helping our family. I’m pretty sure my sister would want me to do so. Still she would be my motive, my inspiration to do things. She may not know it but I think she’s my role model of some sorts. Only that, I can and will be my own person.

Yes, my life as a twin may be difficult. But it has taught me a lot of things I know I won’t be able to if I was a singleton. Besides, I wouldn’t have an instant best friend (and occasional worst enemy) if I wasn’t one. With that, I probably wouldn’t have my life any other way.

Strategies and whatnots

You might have to learn a thing or two about living.

Even from horror movies. Because, well, life can be pretty scary too, but we get by.

No exits

The only way out is through.

- Robert Frost

The Southern Way

To describe The Prince of Tides as a good film would be an understatement.

If anything, the beautifully-made layers of conflict and resolve that govern the movie deserved more than just an applause, but a standing ovation. No wonder it garnered a handful of nominations and awards when it was at the peak of its glory. With such a captivating story and riveting cinematography to boot, it's impossible for one's eyes not to stay glued to the screen while watching it. (Except when you're a kid and you don't understand it yet, as I did. I remember how my mom used to watch the film over and over again because of her love for all things Barbra Streisand while I would easily fall asleep next to her.)

The movie exceptionally showed how members of a family experience the same grief but react to it in totally different ways.

Tom Wingo, despite being agonized by his problems, laughs about everything. This method, as he would fondly call it, is "the Southern Way." He had always wanted to forget about the life he lived as a kid but the memories of which never seemed to leave him.

Savannah, Tom's twin sister, on the other hand, took a different identity as Renata Halpern. She wrote books to express herself, release her emotions, and share the wretched past she experienced with her family. She also had countless suicide attempts just to forget and escape from the terrible life she has. This eventually forced her to regularly consult with her psychiatrist, Susan Lowenstein, to get better.

Then we get to Lowenstein, who although is not a member of the family, knows most of their secrets and is therefore affected too. She has family troubles on her own but delays solving them by burdening herself with other people's conflicts.

I could identify myself with these three characters on various levels. Sometimes I'm a Tom who thinks my problems would just go away by always looking at the brighter side of things. I too can be like Savannah, I face my life with a mask that hides who I really am and what I really feel towards certain issues. I also find peace in writing my feelings down. And then I'm a Lowenstein for the very reason that I busy myself with less important aspects of my life like school and org work while neglecting to face my family conflicts. Like her, I'd rather solve other people's problems than mine because they seem a lot easier to handle.

But then I know that I should face life head-on. I just have to learn how to solve my problems as they come and go, else they'll just be stuck there and pile up into something I can't handle anymore. It pays to be courageous. Much more, it saves time and emotions too.

Good vibes all the way

Perhaps everything is just a matter of perspective. Thus, always think: "It will all be better in the end."

Have another happy long weekend, everyone!

The inevitable countdown

If you only have 24 hours to live, what would you do?

Had I a bucket list of sorts, I would waste no time in ticking the boxes. But I don’t, though I must. I’d write, for example, to forgive those who need to be forgiven and forget which ought to be. Perhaps, I would say words I should have and keep those that I’d regret. Number one rule is not to sleep, because a lot can happen with that much amount of time. Then the rest is up to me.

I’d start with the simple things: doing those I usually do and then those I never did, like stay outside for the entire day and feel the warmth of the sun on my skin (or dance in the rain). I’d watch the sunrise and the sunset, something I haven’t done before. I would eat my favorite dishes and go to the places I’ve never been to. I’ll appreciate everything around me a lot more that way. Also, I’d call my best friend up and beg her to come back to the Philippines to spend that day with me. This is especially so because I haven’t been with her since I was 14 and I really miss her.

In a more serious note though, there would be a big possibility that I will hold a living funeral and right away invite everyone I have known since the day I was born. That event would be in the morning and held in an open field. There I’d get overwhelmed by the number of people whose lives I have touched even just by a simple smile or hello. It would be the perfect picker-upper: to know that in my 19 years of existence I was truly appreciated by many. I’d say the things I’d like to say to them but wasn’t able to because I have not gotten the chance before, and they would do the same. Especially with the people I value most in my life such as my family and close friends, we’d spend that part of the day just reminiscing about the good (and maybe even bad) times we’ve shared and how that has affected the relationship we had.

We might even put on a show, much like a mini-concert to celebrate our lives. Everybody is welcomed to join us. It’ll be an afternoon of joy and jamming sessions. It’ll be our way to express ourselves. I have loved music for the longest time and I think singing and performing would be a good way to connect to people. Also with their help, we would altogether gather my writings and ask someone to publish it into a book. It will be a compilation of my works. There I would also be writing my last words. You see, publishing my own book, above all, has been my top life goal and it would be a shame if it doesn’t happen. Through out the day, I would let someone take lots of photos and document my every move. The photos could be included in my book also.

Finally, at night, I’d just spend more time with my family, because I know they’ll be greatly affected by my passing. I’ll assure them that everything will be alright and make them understand the reality of death. Life goes on no matter how much we don’t want it to. It’s just that, my time has finally come and I know for sure I’ll be happy as ever. I only wish that the people around me will be too.

"I shall not die of a cold. I shall die of having lived." – Willa Cather

All we need is love

With that and optimism, for sure our days will keep getting better.

Sorry for the lack of updates. School has been nothing but a frenemy to me these past few days--I just had to deal with her over and over again. Ugh. Stay happy, though! I know I should and I will. :)

The good in goodbye

The article “The New Grief: How Modern Medicine Has Transformed Death and Grief” illustrates the changes on how people viewed death and dying due to the noteworthy advances in science, specifically in the medical field. This kind of grief allows individuals to come into terms with the inevitability of death, instilling a new reality that equips and welcomes them into an understanding people from the olden days refuse to acknowledge.

Although many tend to reject the idea entirely, this shift poses quite a lot of bearable things too, if not good. We learn how to put value in life a little bit more than we used to. We hug a bit tighter, hold a little longer, and do everything else in bigger proportions. Mourning gets complicated but mornings (and eventually nights) are spent better than the previous ones.

I used to hate it when people sugarcoat bad experiences and tag them as “blessings in disguise” just so they could make misfortunes look good. But then, after years of encountering such idiom, the attitude of looking at the bright side of things has caught on to me. It stayed even to this day. Without fail I have appreciated the simple things no matter how immensely small they are.

People should learn how to find the light in the darkest corners of their experiences. They should see and approach every situation in a new standpoint—one that is greatly outshone by faith and optimism.

So inasmuch as we cringe at the prospect of goodbyes—especially the long, hurtful, and expected ones—it will only lead us to an endless array of hellos. And what's better than that?

Even Facebook agrees

This was my Word for the day and probably for the rest of my funny life:

Oh yeah, finally, there's class tomorrow!

Ain't a joke

I find it amusing how we tend to laugh at such serious matters.

But isn't it funny to simply think about it? Perhaps it's the most overrated defense mechanism! Well, yes, maybe it is.

I'm having a swell weekend, hope you are too! Thanks for dropping by, kind stranger!

Please don't leave me

I somehow think that even time wants to stop itself, basing from what has happened these past few days. In relation to my previous entries, here's a song that I know Peter Pan would love:

I was never really fond of "no classes" but world, take your time. I know this is only for the better.

Easier said than done

As you may have noticed, I'm fond of lists:

Perhaps so do the other 10+ people on Facebook who have liked this photo the moment I posted it.

Happy high

Things that made me feel like a kid this past week, and thus made be happy:

1. Getting free stuff. Not just candies and toys this time, I was fortunate enough to get our group's copy of Miss Cathy and Pia's book, "Heaven's Butterfly." I have been intrigued by this book for quite some time now and am grateful to have finally read and shared it with my friends. I encourage everyone to do the same.

2. Being able to do arts and crafts again. I'm a sucker for all things artsy fartsy, so when Ma'am asked us to draw in class and for our homework, I got so excited. I may not be the most skilled when it comes to drawing or coloring or whatnot, but I enjoy every second of expressing myself through it. Besides, I miss that old hobby of mine. Too bad it has been neglected and forgotten due to the busyness of school.

That's it! I can only wish for more opportunities like this. Thank you, as always!

Never ever land

Never say goodbye, because saying goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting.

- Peter Pan

Baby steps I have to follow

There will always be a kid in me.

I finally know that now, nineteen years and seven months into this life. Though I may be considered an adult by many, I still laugh and cry at the simplest things such as when I witness the beauty of the sunset or allow the cool breeze that come along with the rain to caress me whenever I'm overwhelmed by the busy and stressful days that await me.

Yes, I will always be that kid.

I tend to hold on to things that even when they are taken away from me, I refuse to accept the fact that they are. I was never a big fan of coming into terms with something. I long hated the feelings that rush to me once I do. It's a mix of everything and it gets confusing and frustrating, I can't begin to attend to each one.

But I guess there’s a kid in each and every one of us.

We refuse to face the realities of life even though it has been there, right in front of us, for so long. Some of us even pretend that these problems don’t exist at all, dismissing the thought of being left by a loved one through a break-up, thinking that there are far more important things in life to focus on than a recently ended relationship.

However, it’s only when we see the child in us, we see the adult in us too.

By being aware of the difference of the two, we gradually and eventually learn how to let things go—especially the ones we have no right to get a grip on, those that shouldn’t be holding on to (at least not anymore). We grow, we mature, we move on. We have to. Although it may feel like “one step forward, two steps back” for a time, sooner or later we are impelled to stop regressing and start going forward full speed ahead. That, or we get stuck to where we’ve always been: rock bottom. And mind you, it’s not such a pretty place to stay in for a very long time.

I like the adult in me much better, though.

Truth is, I like being responsible, despite the fact that it wears me out almost all the time. Knowing that I can do anything, even turning my life around, keeps me going. The comforts of being a kid will surely be missed. But to an extent, that having someone to take care of me all the time and watching over my every move can be a bit limiting is an understatement. Just like everybody else, I thrive to be on my own, to take ownership of my self. How can I do that if I remain a child forever?

Still, I’m not saying goodbye.

I know for a fact that I’ll still be meeting with the child in me very soon, because life has been made to have an unexpected nature and I’ll never know when the next “crisis” happens, when the adult in me will feel very lonely. But until that moment, the child in me will be missed.

Word of warning

Something I had to learn the hard way today and days leading to right now:

First of the many

Dear Mama and Papa,

By the time you read this, I have already boarded the Kindertransport on my way to a different country, with my return and our reunion being uncertain.

I don't think I've ever told you how thankful I am to have such wonderful parents like you. You've been very caring of me, teaching me all there is I need to know about life. I hope you won't worry too much about me, I'll be the good girl you always wanted me to be. I'll obey the rules and orders of my foster family and hopefully learn to love them in time.

I promise to write you letters every chance I get and I'll be waiting for your replies. I'll do the best I can to get you out of Germany, I'll find a way.

Please pray for me and my siblings for we too will pray for one another. The Lord will be here to guide us and keep us safe no matter what. I know we'll be together again after all of these events are through.

I love you both very much.

Sasi, 10 years old

In times of trouble

I couldn't imagine myself being one of those children in the Kindertransport. And I don't even want to think about it.

But if I were, at 10 years old, told to pack my bags because I had to leave for another country into the homes of strangers and be away from the comforts of my family, I would definitely bring the following items:

A journal to write all my thoughts and feelings in, because I would need to express myself then more than ever. And perhaps I could compile all the things that I've written and turn it into a book in the future.

My stuffed animal that has been with me since birth. At least I still keep a piece of home and family while I'm in an unknown land.

A photo album with lots of our family photos. So I could keep everyone close to me, despite the distance between us. I will always remember each and every one of them.

My favorite coat to keep me warm and most especially when I'm in need of a loved one's embrace.

And finally, my Bible. For my soul will always rest in Him. I know that everything happens for a reason and in the end, His plan will always be followed. I shall hope that one day, our family will be complete again because that's what God wants for us.

For the love of family

In one way or another, I was moved by everyone in the film: the children, the parents, and the rescuers. I find it impossible to not have felt for anyone after watching the entire movie.

But the person who particularly struck me was Lore Segal, who was 10 years old when she was taken away from her parents. She was a very obedient child that even though she didn’t like to or didn’t know what was happening and what will happen to her, she still followed her parents’ order: she still rode on the Kindertransport.

It seems to me it was a gift–didn’t think so at the time.

Other than the fact that had I undergone the same experiences as her, I too would produce a book about it because it was the only way to express myself and let go of the emotional baggage I have long carried, I thought she was one of the few children that didn’t lose hope about getting her parents out of the catastrophe in Vienna.

Being on the first Kindertransport to leave her country, she felt obliged to bring everyone else to safety, “Before long, I had a list of people who I, at 10 years old, had promised to save from Hitler.”

She made it her top priority to rescue the people she loved as if she had nothing else to do but that. The whole plan dominated her thoughts and deeds, “I think I had a sense...while I was playing, while I was laughing, that was the moment in which I could’ve been and should’ve been doing something about this demand on me that I should bring my parents out.”

She was the one who wrote letters to relatives that eventually reached the Refugee Committee in London and helped to get her parents a domestic service visa. She did whatever she could to be the hero of the family.

Had that happened to me, I too would do the same. I would do whatever it takes to have the rest of my family with me, even if it meant asking strangers for assistance. In the face of adversity, I would step up and make sure that our family is safe from harm.

To this day, I feel responsible for the welfare of my family after the separation of our parents. Despite technically being the second eldest (my twin sister was born a minute before me), I have made it a point that as I am about to finish college here in Ateneo, I will help paying the debts of my mom and give my family the life we deserved—free from fear of not being able to pay the bills on time, enjoying everyday together in our peaceful home.

Be nice to the kids

It’s only now that I regret not paying much attention in any of my History classes.

On second thought, I doubt that we even discussed about the Nazis. Our high school lectures were limited to the events in the Philippines, Asia, and a bit of the rest of the world. And then when I reached second year in college, I took Asian History instead of Western.

The only thing I knew, from my friends who love reading encyclopedias and history books on their free time, was that Adolf Hitler and his followers mistreated a lot of people. And that’s that.

So it wouldn’t have been much of a surprise that when we watched the film Into the Arms of Strangers for class two weeks ago, I got so shocked with what I saw. I never knew how pitiless the Nazis were to the Jews.

As the movie progressed, I can’t help but feel bad for myself for being too historically ignorant. I wasn’t able to understand fully how and why those circumstances happened, but rest assured, I felt a tingle of depression after every five minutes of the documentary.

However, the advent of the Kindertransport was another issue. No matter how ruthless separating young children from their parents may have seemed at that time, I thought the system was a good enough solution for the safety of the kids and for them to have better chances at living.

Going back to Day 1

After today, I felt compelled to share this video on my blog. Perhaps it perfectly captures how everyday battles should be looked at: with a head held high, but not too high to strain the neck. For no matter what, nobody can stop the inevitable tears from falling.

We all want to be happy--if only we could stay happy forever. We cringe at the prospect of saying goodbye. But when something beautiful ends, it will always leave behind a special part in us. For the moments that once touched us, those things that we gave our all to, they will remain in us and be cherished forever.

Or maybe it was because I just missed having such an outlet to express myself that urged me to post this, I'm not so sure.

Still so proud of how our video project for Basic TV and Video Production class last semester turned out. And I'm glad to have met such wonderful groupmates that I now consider my good friends.

I don't like Physics

To lose someone you love is not like losing your car keys. It’s like the laws of gravity have been repealed. We need to reclaim the law of gravity to survive…and that is the work of grief.

- Peter Marris

Memories of a forgotten childhood

At the age of nine, I got so excited at the prospect of our family spending summertime abroad. We have always planned to visit relatives who were residing in the United States of America but it was only until March of 2000 that we were all set, holding passports with visas and plane tickets in one hand, and each other in another.

What exactly made me so giddy was that our two-months-long itinerary was practically filled with theme park visits. You see, I have grown to love the pretty sights and rides of Disneyland and Universal Studios, thanks to international magazines my aunts send me. Unfortunately though, I barely have had the chance to have such “magical” experience. Living in the modest city of Iloilo limited me to small-scale rides found in annual events such as school fairs and town fiestas. Sometimes, when I get lucky, there are also the occasional flights to Manila when Enchanted Kingdom and Star City visits are a must. But that was just about it. This was why our US trip was a big thing for me.

You may think I’m much of an adrenaline junkie because of my affinity to theme parks. But, for the life of me, I have never been a fan of one thing: roller coasters.

I hate the wrenching feeling it gives me before, during, and after the ride. It makes me want to throw up, as if organs inside my body are mixing up without me knowing what’s really happening. I keep worrying that my stomach and my brain get jumbled up in the process. If anything, it was that feeling that I hated most about the ride.

Sadly enough, there had been countless times that I experienced these twists and turns even outside the amusement parks; cases in which, like most people, I have a hard time dealing with.

A roller coaster ride is what I instantly think of whenever I hear the word “grief.” It’s when a person extremely sad and in deep and profound sorrow. It’s a response to a great loss or a big regret. I normally equate grief with pain and suffering because that’s what anyone usually feels after losing something so important to them. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a loved one’s death; people can get grief-stricken over missed opportunities or wasted chances.

My childhood revolved around Disney princesses and Barbie dolls and my life was as simple as dressing my toys up with colorful outfits made for every possible occasion. Bedtime stories were told to make me sleep as fast as I could so that my parents too could rest after a day’s work. As I grew older (but not old enough to stop the stories), I managed to question the fairytales my mom kept reading to me every night: What’s a wicked witch or an evil stepmother? Why do they have to be in the story?

Mom said they were the bad guys that don’t want Snow White or Cinderella to be happy. However, no matter how much they try to plot evil schemes to the lovely ladies, the latter always win. In the end, Snow White and Cinderella still get their Prince Charmings and their happy-ever-afters. In this case, I guess I would also see grief as an antagonist. Although most of us see them as a big hindrance from our happy endings, they also challenge us to acquire our fullest potential and become better persons. For some reason, when we think of our enemies, we are able to pull out the sword from the huge rock and victoriously battle with the dragons.

Perhaps grief is inevitable; it’s already a part of life. And with that, it is only impossible to not go through grief after a significant loss. Maybe the person at loss is still in denial and wouldn’t want to accept the fact that a part of them is missing. But it’s a step in the process too, this denial phase.

I remember a year after our US trip, when dad decided to leave our family for another woman, I used to project this strong front when I’m with people. I have always believed that things will be okay for us—that our dad will come to his senses and will be back home eventually. But he never did. No visits, no calls, no letters. It was only then when it dawned on me and every night I would cry myself to sleep with a heavy heart. I realized that I shouldn’t have kept what I felt because it wasn’t good to hold back the tears for a long time. Crying can be good in some instances too: it lessens the weight we feel when we’re sad or frustrated.

What I don’t like though, after a bad experience, is when others tell me to “forget about it” and “move on.” I personally believe that when we lose something significant in our lives (may it be our fault or not), it will always have and remain in a special part in us, even if we don’t admit it. People don’t necessarily understand what we are going through and would tell us otherwise. But for me, it is only human to feel bad about our loss.

Although eventually, we would find ways to make ourselves happy again even if it means doing things people may deem ridiculous (like listening to sad love songs after a break-up) or unreasonable (like locking yourself in your room for the rest of the year after not getting the job you long wanted). We would always aspire to get over that sad feeling. We wouldn’t want to stay inside that hole forever.

The act of resolving grief is relative. It always depends on a person on how they want to go about with it. We go through it alone, but we can also ask for the help of others to make us feel better. Concerned friends and family would remind us that there are greater things in store of us and it’s that promise that we keep holding on to as we eventually learn how to—little by little, piece by piece—not make a big deal out of the whole situation.

We often have this notion that we only have two choices: to dwell on a loss or to forget about it entirely. Even though that always seems to be the case, I believe there is always the option to do neither. Neither do we forget about it not make it the center of our lives altogether. We let it be a guide to us in our grief and life journeys, a hidden scar that strengthens us, that compels us to seek for the good and for the better.

After everything that has happened to me as a kid—with the good and the bad combined—there’s a lesson that I learned and always followed: it’s okay to not be okay. It’s alright to fall down for as long as you’re willing to stand back up again. We obsess ourselves with being too happy all the time and try as much to lessen the sadness. However, it’s through these trying times that we are challenged to step it up a notch, that we are forced to grow as individuals.

I think that’s how I view my life now: I only get what I deserve (and sometimes, even more than I do). If it’s not for me, it’s not for me. For the times that my heart has been broken after being left by people whom I thought cared for me and being rejected by authorities who don’t believe in me, I can’t thank them enough. Without them, I wouldn’t be who I am now—a headstrong nineteen-year-old, who isn’t as scared as before to and is very ready to face life’s problems.

Although I never liked roller coasters, I still go through with it. The queasy pre-, during, and post-ride feeling may still be there but I do feel better after one round. It makes me think I’m unstoppable. Besides, how would I even enjoy a particular theme park if I don’t try all the rides? It’s true that sometimes we’re up, sometimes we’re down. But the ride eventually stops and it only gets better.