(written july 13 2008)
Acclaimed blogger vanooti asks blithely as readers come enthralled by her mind adventures
On this same vein, I started my Sunday me-time adventure. Cousins, after all, should have some sort of semblance, however indirect.
I parked my trusty scooter at my moms’ bff in umali, the donya Alicia manor replete with erstwhile guests, transients & boarders
And with ipod all charged and ready and with my decidedly sporty ichura, I walked with energy and full resolve to regain comfort in my personal space and depth of self. Thinking about it, I’m really comfortable bein with myself contrary to what people usually take me for. I realize this fully now. My identity is not dependent on other people, you know why?
Because I walk. Think about it.
So I Headed south towards ‘the Radiancy’ while the Hill songs guys were crooning ‘there is no one like you’
First thought was of the time when I dropped off joms at Nikki’s white house near the orange store. It was after mass, years ago
Turning left, I passed by Miggy’s house, where Kappa O’s once hung out, we shaved our heads & fought about a white towel
Crayon Box reminded me of the cerebral Pedro & his roomie that we hung out with IC’S Halloween Party 05
Farther down the road was Whitehouse where certain units reminded me of certain college nights with college friends with my college org. I’ll leave it at that. Insert College smile here
Aling Eves Isawan & Provenan reminded me of 5years ago when ARHGP hung out regularly here while downing greasy street food with all the trimmings and free cholesterol and cholera.
Right before the raymundo gate was where the original Bertie’s was and where distinct memories of blueberry cheesecake, pesto and oolong tea where being ordered left and right by the hungry staff of the Ruralite.
Turning left saw me looking at DAERS where I had my AEC1 class, my first 1.0 grade in UP with Ms. Filma Calalo, my no-nonsense teacher, whom my mom and I saw a months ago at Baan Thai
Walking, walking, I passed by CSI where my old afficemate slash businessman Jonas goes to worship.
Westbrook Residences, with the very snazzy ‘W’ logo done artfully in white, orange and black
I was carrying the notebook for kuyecarloe so I went straight ahead to their house where memories of loud people, a closely knit family and lots of food and parties converged.
Up their street, I imagined myself drivin down their in 1996 with Marvin Amante in the white pick up (AKA super pick up) setting up for YLSS 3 LB
Down the faculty road and onto the bridge I had flashes of monjay being mugged because of the wang-bu hat and marc maligalig’s practical jokes on me and Winston at the start of the bridge.
I stopped in the middle where I realized and felt the not so familiar acrophobia sneaked in but not before I was able to peer over the edge onto the different colored shirts being sunned on the rocks. But sunny it wasn’t hence there were no other walkers and strollers like me.
Moving on, I walked down the road towards auditorium where I saw myself, Teacher Ryan and Teacher Grace inserting flyers to the parked cars of the MS Montessori graduation. Targeted? Yes! Stylish? No. Seemed like a lifetime ago, but that was March of last year
I turned left again to the Thai Temple where years ago, Brian Kalaw and I spent 9 straight hours talking for our one on one in preparation for his YLSS
Women’s Dorm reminded me of Bloc5 meetings for our History presentation during a time where laptops where scarce and having them was a status symbol
YMCA reminded me of Dewi Callo, daughter of the owner of one of the computer shops there, outreach team head, a good friend, the football field saw me and kumareng jing and gabby and choichoi years ago playing ball with avs and manel and kim.
This further reminded me of one crazy aito night of running barefoot in the rain towards the fertility tree. The crazy cast included Marc, Kim, Manel, Avs, Winston, Oli, me and Pedro
Baker hall reminded me of Laktu- an event hosted by BFF’s org, VLV ang VKV. We were made to push a car from SU to baker. Carlo was driving while Hansel, Tatang, Rap, Mike and I were up against the Trantados.
We lost of course, but we didn’t have a chance, CARLO HAD THE HAND BRAKES UP. Yehey.
DMST reminded me of the evil officers of my high school days as the Battalion Private, where fear was accompanying me Saturday mornings. This was my first year as intercessory head. Morning PMT, afternoon Pray over. Fugly, fugly times
Animal Science Lecture Hall was screaming with excited freshmen 10 years ago, where our professor in Agri 11, Dr. Penalba was tryin hardest to maintain his composure.
Agronomy reminded me of Lady Guard, which I haven’t met during the times while we were still hanging out there. Most vivid memory was of Marc winning Mr. Clash with Riz.
The Lab beside CEAT reminded me of our overnight stays there while Ava and her female group mates finish their work, me and rap and wins were designated protectors of the ladies for that semester.
Social Garden saw me pensive because 25 years ago, I got lost in this place and I was crying and I don’t really remember it, just that I was held by the beautiful emcees and was made to stand on the table until my parents came looking in response to the commotion (and racket I was making) That was the garden show
The Fruit Crops area taught me how to do grafting and marcotting with much consternation because my teacher, Sir Sanchez, was looking over my shoulder the whole time
Walking down that line, you’d see great ornamentals and majestic looking palm trees right beside the generator plaza.
The hanging bridge now overgrown with weeds saw me taking pictures of its demise with Noel and Harry and Roy hours after Milenyo settled.
Gonzalez compound reminded me of stories of the very early days of the Labadan Clan because this was apparently where they first lived after moving here from Nueva Ecija.
And then I arrived home
To St. Therese of the Child Jesus parish where so much of my past, present and future are intertwined. Like, UPLB, STCJP saw my growth from the thin and pasty kid who started prep in its old chapel to the shy MSI boy to the religious ruralite to the gregarious college kid and now to the marketing man through and through.
I arrived in the arms of my new friends and old friends and lambs and colleagues and barkada’s and kappa o’s who just heard mass.
Two weeks ago, I was hangin out with the super friends at Café Antonio and being the usual friendly person that I was, I was greeting people left and right. My homie gorgeous guia, sly and sarcastic, acridly remarked, ‘Al, yer such an LB person, why don’t you run for public office? To which I candidly retorted, ‘I’ll take that as a compliment’
There really is no place like home.
