The love that overflows

In a correspondence with someone I know, our topic, although not explicitly, revolves on the love that we have experienced in our lifetime. When we talk about our family so fondly, or about how experiences changed the way we are as a person, we are in fact speaking of the love that we experienced. With that said, I will be writing about the love that overflows.

There are two things that can happen to a person. To accept love or not to accept it. Either way the person is still loved. If you come to think of it, there is never an instance in this world that one is in lack of loving, its just a matter of acceptance. I realized that the month of loving we experience solely depends on the amount of love we want to accept, this then goes on to say that those who say they lack love lacked acceptance. We will never really know how loved we are. Not that it should be taken negatively but the thought that the love we can experience can not be measured is a promising prospect that life in this world is indeed wonderful (that is if you consider being loved as a good thing).

Now the reason I am saying all this is because for most of us, we tend to think that love is something that requires other people. Especially this generation, we think that love is there to be found, the truth is: IT IS THERE TO BE EXPERIENCED. I am saying that love is not a feeling of some sort it is actually a part of our life, an experience that is for our taking. It is not borne out of intricate formula that came from a brilliant mind, but rather it is the proof of our existence that simply overflows everywhere.

The point of all this is love is a natural result of living this life the way it should be lived according to the purpose that we were created. Being borne out of love means that we are creatures of love which is also the reason why we are capable of doing so. In the end to live is to love and not to love is to be a walking dead person.

I guess it will be hard to accept that there are indeed difficult situations, lives that are ruined but in all this its just a matter of realizing that love overflows and its all a matter of acceptance.

I love you people!!!

The lives that reverberate

I did not expect things to happen this fast, another one of my upperclass is dead in Sulu this time the person is closer to my heart.

With the life that we live here, living in constant interaction, force to socialize, people do stick to us and without our knowing we develop a kind of connection that perhaps makes up for the kind of brotherhood thing obvious among PMA graduates. In Sulu right now, there are countless of possibilities. The soldiers fighting there right now might be someone that I used to share a table with, someone who scolded me for doing something wrong, someone I simply know.The truth of the matter is, I do not want to know who is there, I'm afraid.

This morning another deafening silence came inside the mess hall. Before we were to take our breakfast, the First Captain announced: "Let us offer a one minute prayer to the late... so and so, of PMA class so and so... who died in an encounter yesterday in Sulu." In two consecutive breakfasts two of my upperclass are dead.

A friend of mine said: "But if i go on and ponder much on losing life and losing them, I'll just end up hating life." She is right but thinking about the people that we've lost in the past days, I really can't help it but ponder. Ponder on the fact that it was just yesterday that they wore the same uniform as I am wearing. I can't help but ask why them of all the many soldiers out there. And the most frightening, I'll be there in seven months. Yet I do not want to hate life. I love life and I will live it. The fear in me keeps on telling me things, yet I know I am where I should be.

People die even if they do not fight in Sulu. Although the thought can be promising the fact that they die is not that promising at all. Perhaps there is not promise. If it's your time it will be your time and not even an avoidance of war changes that. I am expecting the situation to escalate in the next coming days. Now with two more battalions conducting combat operations it will become dirty. More of my upperclassmen will come (I heard our new graduates who were assigned in Luzon are being recalled to be sent to Mindanao) and I know, even if I do not want to, some of them will have to pay the ultimate sacrifice. Their names will reverberate in my head every time the dreaded one minute prayer will be done in their honor. But then this is the life that God gave me and in seven months time, I just might find myself side by side with them. My prayer is that I will be ready when that time comes.

The lives of those who perished is never wasted for their spirit lives on telling me and I hope all others that life is but a mere expression of the purpose we are set out to do. My life will be just like that hoping that my fate will be good to me. Let us keep on praying to all the soldiers fighting for this country. Someday, I know we will all understand it.

Random thoughts

A moment in time is a moment lost in eternity. A gasp of air is one chance at life. In a person's lifetime there are moments that would seem to be lost in an instant. Sometimes we take notice and sometimes we do not. How many chances do we get in a lifetime?

In my life there have been memories that keep on coming back. Memories that I wish to remember because for some reason I will not be able to get a taste of it again. Usually, these memories are either my firsts and my lasts. There are also times when we feel that we are into something that will not happen again. What I regret the most is not taking notice that such events will have a lasting impact on me. Have I known, I would have paid attention to every detail and savored it.

Perhaps we really do not know. I mean, if we live our life always looking for those moments then we would not be enjoying that moment enough for it to become a lasting memory. It can then be said that these memories only became such because of the simple reason that they are GONE. The question then is: Do we really have to wait for the time that it is gone?

Is value an end to a thing lost? Do we really know how valuable something is when it is still not list? Should we risk it?

These are random thoughts, insights that are borne of a stormy weather and a wondering heart. A thought that came from a longing heart wondering if the things that I value are those that really matter. Again... I will never know.

Lessons that are only learned by living it.

My head is already aching trying to digest all the ideas that I have been reading about Military Theorists for a paper that I will submit next week. Blogging is a cure

The past days can be described as both tiring and surprising. I have decided to start doing all the things that I have been neglecting for the past days. I am not yet done with my paper, then I have another paper for Friday plus the website for an event we will be hosting by October. I know I can cope up I just do not know how tired I will be.

The thing that keeps me excited now are events that I did not know was possible. One may have observed the overtures that I have been writing about some person wishing that she'll read it. Of course, that was wishful thinking. At the back of my mind, I was hoping for something that included more of an interaction rather than my constant imagination of things that may not come. I have come to the point of just letting it be and not worrying much about all the things that are happening with that stuff. If truth be told, I have become passive and just heeding the instances when I feel that I miss her. Of course, I can not really say that I miss her as in miss her. How can it be possible when I barely know her? But then I have to admit, that in as much as I try to deny things within me, the thought lingers and honestly, it feels good in my system. I really did not understand, I was just thinking that in some distant future I will, I was merely hoping... just as I always do.

I prayed hard, ignored the negative thoughts that came to me and went on. I was believing that it was a matter of trusting God for the good things. How do I write something that I do not wish to be revealed yet feel that I have to write it? Let me put it this way, in our life we find reasons that we do not understand. We cling to it and hope that in some distant future the time will come when it will make sense. Some give up, for my part I just did not know what else to do, so I continued to believe. Right now, I still cling to that belief, to that hope. In some distant future I know I will understand. Life is unfolding in my midst revealing to me valuable lessons that can only learned by living it.

Goal or the Process?

My greatest enemy now is impatience. In the last few months, I have been counting the days wishing that I can do the things that I wanted to do. I thought I have already learned patience but I guess learning it never ceases.

Yesterday, I realized that it was the last day of July. The month is going to change again and it was a good feeling knowing that the time really is moving. As I was trying to fill up my PRT (as in Physical Readiness Test, its a monthly thing to monitor physical readiness), I had to do some push-ups and sit-ups so that I can comply with what is written in that form. If I wait for it then I will never be able to fill up that form truthfully. As I was doing the exercises, I suddenly understood how time flies without me realizing it. I thought that once the date changes, I will never be able to put it back in the same way that I will never be able to fulfill the requirements of the form I was filling up.

The same is true with so many things in our life. At one point we want so many things to happen in an instance and then when we finally get it we want to get back to the time of dreaming. I just realized that when we want things we forget the whole process of getting it. I wonder now if the goal is more important than the process?

As I said I get impatient a lot these days. Like this entry, I hate that the words do not seem to coincide with how I feel. A while ago I started taking another of my long walks. When I get emotional, everything appears to me in a deeper way and I almost wanted to cry thinking about all the things that have happened to me in the place that I was seeing. The truth of the matter is, the reason why I am feeling all this nostalgic is because I suddenly realized how lonely I am (again). I realized that I have been trying my best in the past days not to think about the things that I wanted to do and suddenly all the emotions that I have been ignoring came crashing through me. I found myself dreaming again of the things that I could not have at the moment. This morning, I received an e-mail from one person that I like to receive one. Reading it made me so happy that I hated the fact that I was here. That plus certain events that happened.

Again I ask the question, what is more important: the goal or the process?

The dreams that we live

After my class today, I decided I do not want to stay inside my room anymore. I figured if I went back to reading Harry Potter (yes its Book 7 hehehe, I had it the day it was in the stores) I will not be able to do anything productive anymore, so I said I'll go on "pasyal." My "pasyal" took me to the library and amazingly in front of the computer (its not like PMA has a lot of "pasyal" places). Catching up with people through the net (since I am totally detached from the cellphone) I realized that it is the birthday of a very good friend and that another friend will be leaving for the States tomorrow for a scholarship. So I will tell the story about this two people. They are in fact special people in my life.

At a time when I did not know what to do with my life, we were dreaming together. One would wonder how the three of us became friends. I was a person with a lot to say about things, another one was a scientist who can lecture you about the composition of the DNA and another is a beautiful girl who is definitely a head turner. The thing with the three of us was that we met at a time when we were just trying to figure out what to do with our lives. We were at a point in our life when life was uncertain.

For me, I eventually got what I wanted. I went back to PMA and here I am now counting the days until I'm done. The beautiful girl has also found a place of her own. Although I know how she hates being analyzed, I can sense in our little interactions that she is happy where she is. And finally, the Dexter's apprentice, she's leaving the country to pursue her dream.

That realization lead me to think about the things that happen in our lives. The path that we take even during the times when we were not very certain of the future. Thinking about all of it reminds me of the beauty that this life has to offer. The graciousness of God that never fails to touch us as long as we wait. In the 5 years that I have known these people. Much has changed and with the way things are going on in our life now, it seems that it will be a while before the three of us will be gathered in one place and talk about the things that have happened since the day we became friends. But I guess in all of it, the best thing is the realization that indeed life will turn out fine we just have to live it and deal with it.

To those who are at a point of finding out the direction of their life, the key there is to just live it and continue to trust.

Thinking to myself

I have noticed that more than the the many things that I write in this blog, I really just think to myself about ideas that are in my head. Usually, these are the things that I do not have people to share it with. These are my cheesy ideas about romance, my rantings about the system that I am into but can not do anything about and sometimes, just things that are not so fit with the stereotype associated with the people I am with.

About two years ago, I delivered my first speech for our Local Toastmaster's Club here in the Academy. Since it was the first, it did not have a definite topic and that was a relief. My topic was: "My own little world." I talked about retreating to our own little world when we feel so stressed or burdened about the things that are not so well in the real world. I remember closing it by saying that:

"I do not know if you got something out of what I have been saying to the last couple of minutes. Considering that most of you here are accomplished speakers there is a greater chance that you'll think I am not doing this the way it should be done. But then again, I can just retreat to my own little world and say that I delivered a good speech and I'll be fine"

True to those words, I guess this blog is more of like "my own little world." This is beyond the confident look I have to wear when giving instructions to my subordinate. This is revealing the fears that I have that I do not share with others. This is just me, some place where I can just be myself free from the roles that I have to assume.

I guess all of us do have our own little world. Someplace that totally frees us from what is expected of us and just be who we really want to be. I remember a conversation I had with a friend last year when we were talking about responsibilities. I remember her saying that it is always my choice so I should not be blaming others when I get so pressured with the responsibilities I have to fulfill. But beyond that conversation, I realized that the best way to really live this life is to be true to that little world. Not that I am saying, we should stop being responsible, but rather we should strive to be true to who we really are.

Forgive me but ideas are just flowing. I think that maybe it is because we have not developed the confidence in ourselves that we'd rather submit to the sure way of being accepted. I, too, am guilty of that, but I think its a phase that all of us go through as we try to discover ourself and find our place in this world. I think that as we mature in this life, we let go of our insecurities and become more comfortable with the kind of person we are and then live according to it. I think that is why most older people seem to be that "learned." The thought that really struck me is that the more we strive to be more comfortable with the way we are, we learn to deal with it and after sometime we take that risk to let people deal with it also. I realized that although most people would say that they just want to be happy without hurting people, all of us will want to be known to people as the persons that we really are, including our faults, our shortcomings and even our idiosyncrasies. The truth really does set us free.

So finally, I say that life is that continuous journey of being free. By being free, I mean freedom from all other things and live it according to how we are wired. As I said, I am just thinking to myself but then as I end this, I am also hoping that in the future, I will not just think to myself but say aloud what is it really that defines me as a person. It will come.

Ang salitang ugat

Pag iniisip kong magpapakaserious ako malamang lamang panay ka kornihan ang naiisip ko at hindi ko tuloy magets kung paano ko naisip yung mga sinusulat ko. Sa dami dami ba naman ng tumatakbo sa utak ko araw na madalas ay hanggang imagination ko na lang, ano nga ba ang magagawa ko... kundi isulat sa munting blog na ito para kahit papaano ay mawala naman ang utak ko sa mga bagay bagay na hindi ko naman masyadong gusto pero kailangan kong pagtyagaan.

Ang totoo, kanina pa nakabukas ang window na ito. Sabi ko kanina magsusulat ako, pero nung tumambad na sa akin wala na namang pumapasok sa utak ko. Ang nangyari nagpalipat lipat ako sa iba't ibagn website hanggang sa maubos na ang oras ko. Ngayon ito na naman ako, wala pa ring kabuluhan, pero at least may naisusulat ako, kaysa kanina na talagang blangko...

Hindi ko talaga carry ang tagalog....

I find it weird that I speak tagalog but do not feel good writing in the language. I must have been so used to the English language tha my hand feels so at home on the keyboard when the words that I form are those from the English Language. But then again, I love the language. I really hate it when some people will keep on speaking on the language despite of the knowledge that the people they are talking to know how to speak tagalog. I just hate it, I feel like they are making me feel that they are better since they speak in the language. I beg to disagree.

It's not just once that I have been to gatherings that require some form of social status to enjoy it. Well for some people, its natural for them to blabber out English words as if its really their first language only to be dismayed when I answer them in the language that I love.. that is Tagalog. For one, I do not see the point of speaking in a language that is not our native tongue when we know for sure that the person we are talking to knows tagalog. In most cases, I really think that these people has this kind of illusion that they are "cooler" by the fact that they speak a foreign language. I can just laugh at the reaction on their faces when I insist to address them in Tagalog until finally they loose the mask and we speak in a language that we understand... that is Tagalog.

Ironic as it seems, I find myself more comfortable writing in a language that is not my native tongue. Again, I think its more of a habit so please do not take it against me or am I just eating up my own words?

Inside these Television Shows

There are just times when I choose to be cheesy and today is one of those.

Believe it or not but dramas seem to have an effect on me that I can practically spend my day engrossed with all the emotions a certain show wants to impose (ang pangit ng word wala lang akong maisip.. thesaurus HELP!!). Just this morning, I was finally done watching all four seasons of the OC still hating the fact that I do not know what happens to the love story of the main character Ryan. But of course, I will not be doing a review of the series that I watched, I'll basically deal with those shows that I loved.

When we were little, we use to watch Matt Lock early in the morning. I was about ten years old then and it was shown early in the morning at RPN 9 around 5 just about the time when we were about to wake up to start the day. The show was a legal drama with Matt Lock as the main character (of course). I did not understand much of the legalities at that time, I just enjoyed it when at the end the main character is able to defend his client well even if I did not understand how the court proceedings went.

During holy week, I would spend the whole day watching the marathon of 7th Heaven. There was also the time when during weekends, there was a marathon of Beverly Hills 90210 at Studio 23. I loved these shows and I hate it when I miss an episode. Of course there was also Meteor Garden. I did not watch it on television but spent two days watching all of the first season and another two days of the second season. I then moved on to Winter Sonatta and Summer Solstice. That was the time when Asian telenovelas was a hit in the country. Of course, there is also the addiction to Smallville that made me watch the whole 5 seasons straight without sleeping. I could remember how I seem to be mesmerized by the stories of this shows that I watch that I usually end up feeling so emotionally involved with the events and how I do not know what happens next.

Last year, a friend lent me the complete season of Lover's in Paris and spent a week (that is considering that I am a cadet whose schedule is rigid) watching all of it. About two weeks ago, I bought all 4 season's of One Tree Hill, then the OC and Numb3ers. I'm already done with the first two and currently on the third one. I guess it can never be denied that I do enjoy these shows, cheesy as they are.

As I was trying to compose this blog, I kind of think of the reasons why I love watching shows like these. I wonder why I like the Lucas-Peyton tandem better than the Lucas-Brooke tandem. I still hate the fact that Marissa was an important character in the life of Ryan when she's practically a b*tch. I love the way how some characters can be so bad, or so b*tchy yet show a human side that everyone would love to have. I like it when no matter how things are, the end is always some realization that is very much close to our hearts. At the back of my mind I can just think of how the events unfolded and somehow feel good about my existence. Although there are times when I hate how a story develops, I still watch it hoping that in the end good will triumph evil.

In the many shows that I have watched, I could understand why life is so colorful just as how I really see it. I feel that no matter how things are, life is easier lived when we know that somewhere in the future there is this assurance(no matter how little) that all will turn out well. I do believe that in the end I will live happily ever after.

I guess, our enemy of not living this life to the fullest is our tendency to be shortsighted resulting to becoming selfish and impatient. In the many shows that I have watched and considering the many troubles the characters have been caught up with, there is this greatness to the fact that in the end the virtues of love, friendship and family becomes the redeeming factor in it. Whether you agree with me or not, these are the virtues that also redeems even in real life.

All of us will find lessons in the things that we experience. For me, its inside one of those crying scenes, arguments or even tragedies that I see in the drama series that I love to watch. The important thing, I should say, is that no matter what happens, we stay in touch with reality and live this life in hopeful aspiration of the goodness that is abounding everywhere.

Be careful... Strive to be Happy.

Just Nostalgia

How much involvement can one really have on the things that he watch? I wonder now as I try to take my thought away from being so pissed at the turn of events of the Drama Series I am currently watching.

A couple of years back, I got hooked up with watching Dharma and Greg. I sure did enjoy Dharma's eccentric antics and Greg's conservative disposition. But more than that, the show somehow took me out of the things that I did not want to put myself into. The show basically brought be some place when all that matters is that the two main characters will patch up their differences and stay together.

I am contemplating on the realization that I can be so carried away when I begin to like what I watch. Believe it or not, even as I type this entry, my feet is like telling me to run back to the barracks and continue watching the show that I was pissed about earlier. Perhaps being the person that I am, I just can't help it but allow the emotional side of me to carry me through my world.

I realized that it speaks so much of the kind of personality I have. I guess the more I try to understand myself, the more I become sure of what I want. And maybe, the fact that I am somehow isolating myself to the "world" has given me this opportunity to be with myself and enjoy it.

A few days ago, I decided to just walk. After eating supper, I started walking. I figured I had plenty of time (around 30 minutes) so I decided to take a really SLOW walk. I did not bring along anyone with me, I just wanted to be with myself. Well, here in PMA, its not like I have so many places to go to when walking, so the place wasn't knew, it was more of contemplation of the things that happened to me in the past years that I am in this place. I look at the Flirtration walk and remember my framed picture at our house long time ago where I was wearing a red jumper and was 4 years old. I look at the cadets praying (the plebes especially) and remembered how I used to cry when I pray back when I was a struggling plebe and pleading for God to help me continue. I see upperclassmen talking to their plebes and remember how I used to do the same hoping that I get my point across despite of the fact that I make their lives a living hell. I remember the few times that I had to run the same ground because I was complying and order as a punishment to a laxity I made. In the 30 minutes that I was just walking the place, it came to me that I just might miss the place when I finally leave it in 8 months time. I realized that the reason why I wanted to be out of touch was because I simply want to start saying goodbye to this place. Believe it or not, inasmuch as I look forward to finally graduating, I hate the fact that I am leaving.

I'm sorry that I seem to not go into being insightful and once again center on my ego. But I guess, although I am not depressed, I am nostalgic. How do you leave a place that gave you your dreams?

Feeling the pain

I'm not writing another entry about the Army, I will put that on hold first and try to deal with something I wanted to share.

I have been open to the fact that my mother died of cancer. I have often written about being beside her while she screamed in pain and just hearing her prayers. That experience formed the foundation on my belief that God does give us rest even in painful situations. The pain may not subside but there is this inner peace that God brings when we call upon him amidst painful situations.

About a few days ago, I found a few friends in friendster that have been in similar situations. Just as always, I am amazed how they find comfort knowing that God will be there to take care of them despite their condition. I am not happy because of their condition, but I am happy that because of their condition, they experience God working in their lives day after day, how many of us can really say that.

In a book I read a few years ago, it basically answered the question "Where is God when it hurts?" The author used the example of leprosy to make his point. In the early days, when medical science wasn't that advanced, many people thought that leprosy was the disease of the unclean. They described it as a condition for people who are literally decomposing even when they are still alive. Now, modern science has learned that leprosy is actually a defect in our body's reaction to pain. Experts have learned that reason the body "decomposes" is that our body can no longer feel pain thus, it is abused and then degenerates. In one example, there was a man who played his guitar so hard that his hands began to bleed. Because he had leprosy, he is unaware of the pain and so he continues to abuse his hand until finally the hand comes off with him still unable to feel the pain. That is the same reason why rats can just tear off a tissue on those with leprosy without them feeling pain. Leprosy is in fact a condition very similar to the pain we experience in our day to day life.

In an article in Newsweek recently, Sam Harris, a noted atheist, had a dialogue with Rick Warren, author of the phenomenal Purpose-Driven Life, about faith. I may be biased, but the thing that struck me was how Mr. Harris has pointed out various "painful" events that has led him to the conclusion that God really does not exist. I do not wish to debate on whose argument is better but I am just trying to point out how painful situations can in fact be blessings from God.

I, too, do not want to feel pain. I guess everybody does. All of us would want to live life without feeling and discomfort. That is the best way for us to succeed at the things that we do and be happy with our life. But just like pain when we cut ourselves, it reminds us that we are not invincible, that we are mortals. Pain reminds us that despite of all the things that we can do, there is still something more powerful than us and for me that being is God. If we are unable to fell pain, we will become proud of who we are and forget about other people. The acceptance that we can not do everything in this world is the beginning of wisdom and it is the foundation of faith... sometimes, it takes pain to trigger that.

We do not want to experience pain, but when you come to think of it pain does wonders. If we try to just think about the painful situations we have been into and think about how this events has changed our lives, you'll see what I mean. As for me, I am not wishing for pain, but I am believing that when I do experience pain, God is teaching me something and He will be there to guide me through it....

God Bless you people

In the ARMY: you just have to do it to understand

I woke up the next day with more red marks on my legs. The mosquitoes were indeed successful in making sure that I will remember them when I go back to my room in Baguio. They will sure be that constant reminder for me not to complain again while I sleep on my five inch mattress. As I was walking out of the bunker to urinate, I hear the sentinel at the front gate shout, "Andyan na sila." He was referring to my classmates who just conducted their first Combat Patrol. Later in the afternoon, it will be my turn.

A Combat Patrol is a routine activity of any combat unit in the Army. It is usually done, to check an area for any enemy activity and of course as a way to make the presence of the Army be felt in the community they are located. Not that is militarization as most leftist organizations would put it, its simply part of the jobs that they had to perform, the same as cops going around the city. Unlike the Combat Patrol we do in PMA, there is 101% certainty that there is no enemy. We do not have live ammunition and the emphasis is more on the way the patrol is done. We are expected to show that we learned the process in conducting one. In PMA, we conduct this patrol with other cadets, who, for most of the time consider this exercise a waste of time. The Patrol I will be conducting on the other hand will be very much different. For one, I will be conducting it in an area that is hostile. I will be doing it with Enlisted Personnel (the privates, corporals and others). The good thing is that I have live bullets loaded in my gun and the fearful thing is that... its the real thing. I was told by my OIC, if you are engaged (as in fired upon by the enemy) you will have to be the officer there. It wasn't like I did not know what to do when fired upon, I practically memorized the procedures to be done. In a manner of speaking, theoretically, I know more about Military Tactics than the soldiers that I will be leading in the Patrol. But the truth is, I have never been face to face with danger. I have not experienced being fired upon by live bullets, I was simply a student of soldiery with no combat experience.

The time came, although I tried to look calm, my heart was pounding. At the back of my mind I knew that the area I will be patrolling on is less likely to have enemy forces, but still there is this chance of meeting the enemy and although low, I was afraid. The Corporal in front of me was a confident one, he kept on telling me stories of his exploits and pointed to me places that he remembered encountering the NPAs. Behind me was a five-month old private, he was simply silent. Inside my head, I was thinking of the many scenarios I learned, I was on the lookout for advantageous positions in case of any eventuality. I was very observant and became fearful of people that we meet along the way. I did not realize that we were already entering the front gate back to the Company Headquarters.

My first real Combat Patrol is finished. When I graduate next year I know I will have more of that but as my OIC would put it, the first time is always the most fearsome. The lesson I learned is not anything near to being brave. I learned that the only way to understand the reality of the things that are to come is to simply do it. My first combat patrol wasn't that exciting. All we did was walk until we were able to return to the base. But I know that when the time comes for me to look back and recount memories that I will remember, I'm sure the experience will be one. Understanding how the soldiers I was with can sleep at night doing these patrols every now and then is difficult especially when you know the danger you will be facing. But unlike the many concepts that we learn in school (even those not in the military), the best lessons in life are those that were borne out of experience. To understand the importance and value of things comes through experiencing these things first hand.

When I conducted my Combat Patrol last Field Training Exercise a few days ago, I had with me the understanding of the importance of what I was doing. Although this was a simulated scenario, this isn't just an exercise to have a good grade, this time around, this is my time to learn and be prepared for the real thing.

To be continued

In the ARMY: Getting in terms with reality

So I begin to write after a very long absence. I did not realize that I was not able to say goodbye until I was already out of the Internet world. But then, the beauty of my hiatus is that I was able to gain more insight on my life in general and so the blogging continues.

A while ago, I started to write about the events that have happened in the more than 20 days I was out. I started to recall how I hated the climate at Fort Magsaysay and wishing that I will not be assigned in that area. But then I realized there was more to what has become of me beyond the heat I endured, I could say that I am a different person now.

I never thought that I will realize it this early but while I was away, I realized I was right in choosing to join the Army. I remember last March when I started to entertain the thought of making the wrong decision at choosing the branch of service I will join. Although I knew what I was going into, I wasn't sure that I really was up for it or if my decision was guided by divine wisdom. But I did choose carrying with me that uncertainty and a glimmer of hope that in time I will understand.

The Army, at least our Philippine Army, is not that glamorous as those that we see in war movies. Ours, as one officer would put it, was "laging kulang sa resources pero laging sobra sa trabaho." It wasn't good to hear that from a veteran soldier and as I try my best to bear with the scorching heat, my doubts grew, maybe I was wrong. The experience was compounded by road runs in full battle gear still under the terrible heat of the sun, I just wanted to collapse. But then again, I was already there and I clinged to that glimmer of hope I knew was there when I made my choice about a month ago. When I came to the Infantry Battallion I was assigned to for On the Job Training, I was met with a dilapidated barracks full of mosquitoes. To top it all, I hear the encouraging words of my Officer in Charge: "Maganda na tong Barracks na to, sa ibang units mas malala pa dito." There goes a good Army encouragement.

But then again, people do not stay in the Army for the reasons that made me feel bad about my choice. Though I wonder the implication of the choice I made, at the back of my mind is this feeling of assurance knowing that my father made the Army his career. So I continued.

The bunker I occupied in the Rifle Company I went to was no different from the barracks I had in the Battallion Headquarters. The only significant difference was that the mosquitoes were bigger and fiercer. In the first night, I immersed myself with reading the documents recovered during enemy raids and for a few hours I forgot all the complains I had and became completely into the heads of the rebels I will be fighting. The documents varied from poems, songs of both mainstream and revolutionary themes, their activities and believe it or not, unsent letters to their loved ones expressing their longings. Somehow, I could feel the humanity of the people that I will fight when the time comes. More than the ideologies that they were fighting for, I felt the uneasiness realizing that like me, they too are human beings.

Later into the night, I came face to face with a rebel who has returned into the arms of the government. His stories were glaring and although he was once fighting the government, like the people I vowed to protect, he was also lied upon by the same ideology that he once fought for. I realized that the people that I fight are also the same people that I protect.

The day ended with me retiring to the comforts of the hard surface that was to become my bed. I had to cover my ears so as not to be distracted by the constant murmuring of the insects around me probably conspiring to torment me in my sleep. There goes the beginning of my life in the Army.

to be continued...

The kid that I used to know

Finding a childhood friend in Friendster kind of reminded me of the many childhood memories I had. I can not help it but laugh at the so many things that happened in childhood that I do not seem to care about so much but in fact, are happy memories. Well to the friends who were part of those memories, here is a trip down memory lane.

I do not remembering living in any other house other than the one that we have now in Lower Antipolo but I was told we transferred there when I was two years old. Considering that our subdivision was a housing project of the AFPMBAI, most of those who live there are either in the Military or in the Police. Its not really a wonder why this place is called Katarungan Village.

I still do not understand why little children just can't be told to stop playing. In our house there was a simple rule, sleep in the afternoon and you can only go out after three in the afternoon. For some reason I do not want to sleep and I will just stare outside from the window waiting for the time I can go out. Then my aunt sees me looks me over and discovers that I did not take the required afternoon nap, suddenly I am not allowed to go out and I spend the rest of the afternoon staring at the window, ogling at the kids playing outside. The next day the same thing happens and I begin to wonder what is it that my aunt is looking for to say that I have taken my nap. After sometime, I discovered it was the eyes. When she looks me over shortly before I am allowed to go out, she will look for the "sleeping signs" on my eyes. Well that was easy, after sometime I was sure that I will go out every three in the afternoon. Shortly before three, about five minutes before my aunt will begin her inspection, I would push my face to the sofa. After a few minutes, I will pretend to be groggy and as I look up to my aunt, I have the "sleeping signs."

And then there was this fascination about super powers at a time when I idolized the likes of Bioman, Maskman all those Japanese kid shows. Well, I too have my super powers (ha ha). I was with my other playmates, of course there were also five of us, all the others become sidekicks. We did what normal kids do, pretend that we were grown ups (that have super powers that is). Walk around the village as if we own it, fight with one another just to end up playing together again. I guess all kids have been through that stage.

In our little community, it was as if life was not a problem and all we cared about was to be able to play the next day with our playmates. At the time when the country was suffering from power shortage and there was brown-out everyday, we loved it. We loved it because we will be allowed to go out at night and play hide and seek. During the 1989 coup, when tanks were around our village so that the rebel soldiers can not go home to their families (as I said almost everyone in our village were either in the Police or the Military), we played just the same while our fathers are out there fighting each other. The truth is I loved it because I can brag at school that there are tanks in our village. It's funny how things can be so simple for little kids.

I wish I did not grow up, but I did and soon all of us seemed like strangers. Each of us either developed new circles of friends, moved to another place or just be contented at staying at home and watching TV. We do not fight anymore because we barely talked and every once in a while we see each other waiting for a ride going out of the village, we just nod at each other and that's it. Every now and then we get to talk about things but its as if everyone is just trying to live life and be controlled by it, I wonder how it came to that.

Yesterday, I was browsing through different Friendster accounts when I recognized a familiar pretty face. I could feel her super powers(ngeks), she was one of the "chosen" five who were gifted with the power to be like Bioman. Considering my isolation and lack of social life in this place, it was something that gave me so much joy, I was just so happy to find a childhood friend that I have not seen in almost ten years. Well, our lives are different now, she seems to be leaning into becoming a member of the millionaire's club while I'm becoming a soldier, just like our dads. I reminded her how I used to make her cry and call her all sorts of names and its good that she did not remember most of it. Other than that, for the first time in so many years, I remembered how fun it was to be a kid. Its not like I hate the fact that I have to worry about how I am going to have enough savings for my future, how I am going to live this life independently and be a productive member of society. Its more of going back to the simple joys of being able to play with friends and not caring about the power problems of the country. Or bragging about tanks and be the center of attention at a time when the country's government is in deep trouble, or simply having super powers. I realized that as we grew and our lives became more and more complicated, we have forgotten the simple joys that we enjoyed as little children. Somehow, I could say that these memories remain in our hearts for the reason that in all of the challenges we face each day, we have to take the backseat and enjoy the little joys of life.

Thanks Thea for reminding me :)

A love letter that is not to be read yet.

I was watching this movie the other day and it kept me awake until 1 in the morning. The movie was about two people who met each other by some twist of fate, experienced a very romantic chemistry between them and then decided to just leave it at that when they came back to their different places. They came from different countries and they thought that if they continued to contact each other, they will lose the magic that they had when they were together the first time around. I hated that the movie had to end that way although I think it's very possible that their fears might be true.

I am quite sure that I will not find myself in the position of the couple since I was always a risk taker. But watching the movie and understanding that the first of the couple is not remotely possible, there was this uneasiness inside my heart. The truth is, I have seen many couples who just "lost that loving feeling" through the years. I remembered someone I knew who was so in love with this person to the point that even when we were together, he can't stop talking about this girl. Fast forward to 5 years after, they got married had a son and now they hate each other guts. Looking at their situation their was the extreme side of a long pole that spells the difference of love and hate. But then I also remembered how my parents were. I remembered trying to find my own solution to their problems so that when my time comes I will not repeat their mistakes. I decided to always remember the time when I first fell in love with the person.

Today, I could say that I am in a state that somehow sings to that tune. I do not wish to put the details but I am just saying that I am, from the deepest chambers of my heart, in love. Now after watching the movie, and having the same fear as the characters of the movie had, I decided to write my feelings for this person for me to always remember it. I have no intention to have her read this yet but I just want to record it. So I am writing her a letter that is not for her to read yet. Here it is:

"I am troubled as I write this letter. I am troubled not because I do not know what to write but because I am not sure if now is the time that I should express this. I am troubled because to admit my feelings is a risk that I am not exactly sure that I am ready to take. But I guess I will never be ready and the uncertainty will always be there, what is certain and will never change will be the feelings that continues to occupy my soul.

I have always believed that things do not happen by accident. We live our lives doing what we do and God manifests himself as we go along meeting accidents that we never really understand. Meeting you was one such instant, when without the understanding of the whole situation I knew that it was God’s way of revealing himself to me. The magical moment that lead to this very conclusion was something that changed my life forever. The emotion that has filled my heart caused me to appreciate the beauty of life which just renews my spirit with each passing day.

I remember the exact moment when you were in your deep sleep early one morning. The sun barely creeping, I was tired from doing the newsletter the night before. As if nature was conspiring to create that instant, the sun’s rays were like a spotlight that pointed directly to you. In your slumber, you had an aura that evoked magnificence that revealed a beauty more than your angelic face, a beauty that revealed the very nature of God himself. My eyes started to get misty knowing that I am witnessing a miracle. I knew then that my life has changed forever because of you. This letter will come to you in due time. This is a testament of a heart that love has touched, a love that only the heart understands… a love that is divine. The future is uncertain but the future always reveals the truth. It always hopes for the better, always perseveres and always believes. I believe in the wonder of God. I believe that just as how the events unfolded, I am also believing that however things will come, the love that I offer you will manifest its sincerity, its honesty just as how all true love manifests itself. I believe all this for in the end love only endures as long as we believe in it. I love you from the bottom of my heart and everyday my heart only longs for you".

That's it...

Our episodes of immaturity

I was browsing through a friendster account of a friend I had since long time ago. I just recently found her account and so I took the time to just browse through the many pictures she uploaded since I have not seen her since 2005. The thing that strucked me was this big picture she used as a background. It was a picture with her now husband or soon to be husband (I do not know really since we have not talked). It dawned to me how things have changed in the past years. I was contemplating how life has been evolving into more permanent and serious things from long ago when all we had are just dreams.

In the not so distant past, when all we think about are things that could give us the fun that we want in this life, it was as if life was pretty easy and the worries where not that important. For myself, I have lived my life hoping that the good things will come yet not really making serious consideration on how this things will become a reality. It was as if I wanted something to the tune of happily ever after without really trying. I could remember all my childhood misdemeanors and wonder now why on earth was I able to think of doing those things?

In another friendster account of someone I know back in high school, there was a series of pictures with her in famous landmarks all over the world. Not that I envy her, but I kind of tried to remember how she was in the days of immaturity and try to connect those memories to the person that she is right now. My answer was -- I do not know. And then there was this query from a friend asking me how on earth was I able to think of going to PMA when I was simple "kulisaw" (I do not know the exact word in tagalog but its more like UN-PMA). Coming to think of it, its a wonder how kulisaw people like me, will go through a regimented life as a soldier. And its not just me or my other friend, there are so many others that I begin to wonder how each is connected. I wonder whether or not there is some sort of cause and effect to the things that we do in our life. Is immaturity simply a period in everybody's life or doe it have some bearing in the kind of person we will become?

I go back to my stint as class president when I was in second year high school. I wasn't really class president material. Back then I had insecurities that was so evident, I can even say now that I did not have that much to claim for myself. The reason I became class president was that we impeached our original class president (that person by the way is now doing good as a flight attendant also flying across the world) and I replaced her for the mere reason that I had the guts to speak out even to our teachers when the class is in some kind of trouble. Ironically, I now belong to profession where speaking out is taboo unless asked to do so and misbehaviour is met with hard and swift punishments. If we try to see the connection of the two, there is basically NONE. So again my original question.

But looking at that experience now and my present state, I could say that it really does have this some kind of cause and effect relationship. For one, I wasn't entirely successful in defending my class since many of our misbehaviours have been punished in some way. By the time we were moving to third year, more than half of my classmates have been kicked out of my school, it was a good thing I was spared. Also, I realized that it wasn't more of the misdemeanor or being class president that was important at that time. In fact, I did not put that position in the yearbook when I graduated simply because I was afraid that my classmate whom we impeached will also put it in her yearbook. Comparing the two of us with her angelic face, she is more believable to hold such position. But really, the more glaring reality was that it was my time to shine. Although it was more of doing mischief, I had that opportunity to be a person that people depended on and I loved it. In the next coming years, I no longer engaged in so much mischief but concentrated more on being a dependable person on something that I am good at doing. I went into Debating, joined a Political Party in our Student Government, immersed myself with Scouting and got involved with so many other things. I may not have been a popular kid back then, but I guess I was doing something that I knew I was good at and I loved it. Looking at it now, I could say that the effect is the person that I am now. I may not be the really best person at what I do but I know I am doing something I know I am good at.

Well, I do not wish to debate whether or not I am really good at whatever it is that I do, I can just say that I try to be one very hard. I just want to say that at some point in our episode of immaturity, back in the days when all we wanted to do was something that was fun, we found things in this life that make us go alive that just defines the person that we will become. It is not a question of whether or not we have been good through and through but in the end it is always about the person that we are now, whether we are good or BAD. Somehow there is a link to all these things until finally we are able to understand our dreams and work towards achieving these dreams.

Finally, maybe I am just lucky. In reality, there is no way of predicting whether or not one action that we did before will result to something good even if that action was good. The thing that is very glaring and certain is that we are responsible for the person that we will become. When everything has been said and done, the person that we are is entirely our doing.

Of the people that we meet

In a suddent turn of events, I came to a deep thought on how our life is changed by the people we meet. How are we changed by the people in our lives?

In the year 2003, I enrolled myself to the UP Open University. It was an attempt to get back at studying after having made plans on what to do with my life. I was still very eager to go back to PMA only that I was already entertaining other plans just in case PMA will not push through. There are people that I met and one of them was an interesting person by the name of Joy.

I first met her through Yahoo Messenger. Open University capitalized more on the internet so most of the students were very much into the Internet technology. I do not remember now who started talking to the other but I remember that our discussion was about Dead Stars. She told me about how a dead star can look very much "alive" on earth since light has to travel a great distance. Meaning, although it is dead we still see it as alive in our night sky. A few years later I finally was able to read the literary piece that started that discussion. It was Paz Benitez-Marquez's short story entitled Dead Stars. This short story is recognized in Philippine Literature as the First Short Story in English written by a Filipino. Until this very day, although I haven't been in touch with Joy for years, the short story only reminds me of her.

And then there was my gay room mate. Believe it or not, I had an openly gay person for a room mate back in College. The day I transferred to our room, I immediately got a taste of his (or her) being Homosexual. Inside our bathroom hanged sets of panties. He said that it was more comfortable wearing those than briefs. In my mind, I knew it was because wearing those made him feel more female. In the many months that we shared that room, I was able to understand not just his being Gay but also other things. I was able to see how hard work makes a person, how being the best is infectious. People may find being gay as some kind of deficiency, but believe me when I say that he is one of the few people whose heart is made of gold. Up to this very day, I will not hesitate to have the opportunity to share a room again with him.

There is also my mother who passed away in April 2000. She taught me how to dream BIG.

In the many encounters we have had and we will continue to have with people in this lifetime, all of this will contribute to the kind of person we will become. Good or bad, people leave an imprint in our lives that will change us forever. In each of these encounters we are able to get things from even if some do not help us. The truth remains that people around us contribute to the kind of person we have and will become. So I aske again, how are we changed by the people that we meet?

Joy changed me by being the kind of person that she is. She will forever be part of my knowledge on the First Short Story in English written by a Filipino. My gay room mate will be my constant reminder not to judge the gay people. Of course, my mother will constantly push me not to give up on my dreams. Small or big, people do change us. Its not just those that we have become close, it even includes others as simple as the vendor we buy a chewing gum every time we pass a street near our house. Summing up everything, we are immortalized in people just as people are immortalized inside our hearts out of the interaction we have. The sooner we accept thise, the easier it is to accept that life in this world is connected in some way.

People will come to us in different ways. They will also be taken from us in a snap of a finger. Last sunday, a former classmate and now an upperclass was shot in the head in an ambush in Isabela. Just like that he was gone. All the memories about this person suddenly goes back and although he's gone in each of the hearts of the people he has touched... he lives on.

I guess the whole point in why I write this entry is to understand the reality of the complexities of this life. I, too, can not explain death but I do know that when a person becomes immortalized in our hearts, death is not the end.

A blessed sould tempered by the Grace of God

Last Friday, I attended a wedding of a couple I know from church. They were celebrating their 15th wedding anniversary and they renewed their vows with all of us as witnesses.

I have not been writing much about the area of romance, but it doesn't really mean that I am not thinking about it. I am more confused now than I was a couple of months ago. I guess the more we learn things the more we are able to understand that things like these are not as easy as we think it is.

Coming from a family who did not have an example of a beautiful romantic relationship, my idea of romance has been shaped mostly by imagination and observation. I can not remember any family member who had an ideal romance. Except for those who have seperated and went on to have different spouses (legal or otherwise), those that remain either had histories of unfaithfulness, unwanted pregnancies, elopement, family members widely opposing the relationship and other incidents that do not fall under the category of ideal. But of course, life goes on and I continue to hope that when my turn comes, I will have what I have been praying for. Not that I want it to be ideal, I simply want it to be normal.

And so at my stage now, things can be confusing trying to juggle all the other areas in my life and at the same time always careful that what I do now will not have repercussions on my future of everything in my life. I could say that there are times that I am just afraid. I am afraid because I know that even those that had failed relationships, they too were dreaming of normal ones back when they were young.

So going back to the wedding, I listened to the pastors message, sharing how a marriage is not between two people but between three the other one is, of course, God. I marvel at the video presentation that chronicled the different stages in the marriage of the couple. I know that their 15 years wasn't all heaven, but I also know that in the 15 years that they spent together, the two of them do not regret a thing at marrying one another. Their faces were that of pure joy that can only come from a blessed soul tempered by the grace of God.

How does one really know?

I know that I will not be able to answer the question at this point. I guess no one really knows. As I always say, for each of us we will all experience these things in a different way. Each event in our life will be revealed to us in a manner that will tailor fit the kind of person that we are. In each of these events we will decide based on the wisdom that we have acquired and hope that the result of our decisions will be the one that will bring us closer to our dreams. There will be encounters with people from all walks of life, all telling us different ideas about the same things. We will choose what to believe and act on those beliefs, but still in the end, we will never really know, we can just hope and pray.

I am confused because at a time when things in my life seems to have that direction I have been looking for in the past, I am becoming worried of the other aspect that does not have one... the romance thing that is. I know I am being impatient about this so spare me the criticism. I hate the fact that I am admitting how shallow I can be, but then this is me and I can not help it. Maybe later on I will forget this nonsense, be busy again and time will fly so fast. I do not know, I am just hoping and praying hard that in the end what will happen to me will be, just like the couple in the wedding, a blessed sould tempered by the grace of God

Lamentations of a Squad Leader

A funny thing happened when I was going out of the mess hall this evening. I saw one of our new secondclass cadets shouting at a plebe in complete anger... and then I waved at her... she lost her concentration and started to smile.

I will have to explain. In April 1 of every year we have new plebes who go through the summer camp training. For most of those who have been cadets, this will become the hardest test they will have to go through. Those who will do this job are those that we call as the Plebe detail. The common practice now is that the plebe detail are the secondclass cadets (third years). It is from this experience that we get to derive the reason why the mess hall is mess hell for plebes. And so in the span of two or m0re months, the PMA cadets are divided into two groups, the regular corps which composes the upperclass cadets and the Plebe detail. The mess hall is then divided into something that is the perfect illustration of the difference of being an upperclass and a plebe. On one side (the upperclass side) the cadets are eating comfortably, talking and even smiling at each other. On the other side are stiff plebes who shout at the top of their voice when answering questions. The members of the plebe detail bark out orders while the plebes had to maintain an exaggerated posture of heading up, chinning in and bracing up. To an unexperienced spectator, it would seem that the two sides are on the extreme parts of a spectrum... the perfect contradiction. But of course, all of these are parts of the PMA training that has been their since the Academy's conception. In reality, each perform a task that they had to do as cadets. The task of the upperclass cadets on the other side is simply to eat since they have been through plebehood already, while those on the other side are the plebes and their tormentors (I couldn't think of a better term... sorry)

In reality, the shouting on the other side are roles that the second class cadets had to take. Instead of simply telling the plebes what to do, it is their job to do it in a manner that will not only be loud and clear but also something that will shake their disposition. It is intended to really confuse them and make a hell out of their life. Last year when I was a member of the plebe detail, my already loud voice had to be louder and it had to possess that certain characteristic that will confuse the plebes. So going back to my story, it was funny because I destroyed the whole act of that secondclass cadet shouting at the plebes by simply waving at her from the other side (sorry mababaw lang talaga ang kaligayahan ko).

Anyway, I wrote a second part to an article that I wrote for the Corps Magazine (Incorporation Issue) last year. It's still about roles that we play as cadets but I place a more personal touch. This is unpublished and this is the first time that this will appear to the public... Enjoy

Me and my three stooges... Plebes I mean: more lamentations of a Squad Leader

There are a two things that I learned from the time I started to wear my second stripe: first, I can only do so much for my plebes what will become of them will be their own personal decision; and second, it is not because of that limitation that I will stop being a squad leader to my plebes, I will persist until I am relieved of my duty.

In a similar article that I wrote for the Incorporation of my seven plebes as a member of the plebe detail then, I tried to understand what it entails in being a squad leader. This time around, after becoming a squad leader to another set of plebes (three this time), I learned anew and had an experience that has made me realize more things in my journey towards a better leader. These are my lamentations.

When the plebes were incorporated to the Corps last June, I saw my seven plebes distributed to the different companies. The days of summer camp are finally over and the regular academic term began. They had their new squad leaders while I was also given another set of plebes to take care of. With the same attitude I embraced the responsibility promising myself that I will exert the same effort in doing what I know I should do to these young cadets. I thought that it will be easier since this time around there are only three of them… so I thought. It seemed that I was in unfamiliar territory. It seemed that this was a totally new environment and I had to learn again.

My three plebes are the tallest ones in the crop of plebes that are in my Company. Each of them had different backgrounds and like all plebes, forced into the reality of cadetship, this time around not just to adjust to military life (which was one of the main thrusts of summer camp) but also to reach the standard of excellence that is expected of a cadet of PMA.

Unlike the situation in summer camp, I wasn’t the boss. As I was trying to do my job as squad leader, I also had to deal with new set of company mates because of the recent company realignment. I had to adjust not just to being a squad leader to three plebes, but also a member of a company with new faces and different culture. There were things that had to be done and just as always, expectations that had to be met.

My plebes were not that different really (except that they were tall) they were ordinary plebes who like me three years ago also struggled at the adjustment from being carefree to regimented. They had a hard time coping up and I also had a hard time trying to think of the best way to teach them what they have to learn. From the uniform that I had to scrutinize up to the last crease, to the shoes that do not shine the way it should, all of these things were not easy to teach. And then there is also the much compliance that they had to do. From those that were given by the firstclassmen, to offenses that they had to compensate, all of these were parts of a confusing scheme that will definitely shake a person’s identity.

One of my plebes, the youngest in the bunch, was from a family that we can say as sheltered. Not that they were rich it’s just that his family raised him in a way where he was not given much pressure. His family did everything to keep him away from life’s problems. He wasn’t hard headed; he was just someone who was not used to being ordered. Here comes his squad leader (me) who would shout at him at the simplest wrong move, give him a long lecture on why things had to be done in a certain way and then punish him severely after wards. It took sometime for me to realize why he is like that and again, talking to his parents (and writing I should say) proved to be useful. From the bits and pieces of the stories that I gathered regarding his family, I was able to understand why he acts the way he acts. His response to my methods was something characterized by fear. He would practically do everything to escape my wrath, sometimes to the point of lying. More than trying to make him “snappy” I was more concerned in making him understand the importance of facing our fears and doing what has to be done despite these fears. That was my first struggle.

In dealing with these three, I had to teach them teamwork and at the same time make them understand the value of the things that they are doing. Unlike in summer camp where their entire world somewhat revolved on what the squad leader teaches them, they now enjoyed more freedom and with it they are also able to interact with more people. I have to deal with establishing a reputation so that my word will have more authority than the others, which was the second struggle.

I can not overemphasize more the role of the squad leader in training the plebes. The struggles that I faced, I believe were not just personal struggles but I guess in some way are also the same struggles that my classmates were facing in going about their roles as squad leaders. When I look back now, I still wonder how I have endured all those times when I just felt I had the worst job in the world. When I first see them in their civilian clothes during reception, I thought changing them was impossible. Now, almost a year after, they smile at me when they see me. Not because I was very kind to them, but because we have come into terms with the reality that our jobs, them as plebes and mine as a squad leader, was part of a glorious scheme that has endured and stood the test of time. More importantly, all of us have gone through a sacred rite of entry that nobody will be able to understand unless he or she has gone through it themselves.

Today is four days before graduation. The day after that, my seven plebes in summer camp and my three during the regular corps will have their first stripe as new thirdclassmen (yes, I am proud to say none of them resigned or got discharged, its not because I am just good, it’s simply luck). One will be taking the removal exams but I am confident he will pass it. In 01 April, another set of plebes will come and a new cycle begins. I will move on to become a firstclass cadet. There will be new squad leaders and when Incorporation Day comes, my then plebes will become the new tigers. I will see them with their buddies (the new plebes) and will just hope that what I taught them will have some reflection in the way they will handle their new role. I am hoping that at some point, I have become a part of the person that they will become. Well, I could just hope and as I end my lamentations, I look up to God and thank Him for everything.

The life that I took is not simple, yet it has revealed to me facets of life that I will never encounter have I lived my life differently. I guess in the end the person that we become is still a result of the experiences that we had. Definitely, as I put an end at being a squad leader, the experience has made me a better person and I hope the ten plebes that I encountered also changed for the better

Comments that ring

This blog entry sprung from the comment made on the entry before this one. I just realized how things can go off hand.

I wonder now how things as simple as not eating some food that is offered can undermine the kind of soldier I will become. I wonder how the simple issue on doing something for the sake of politeness can boil down to the kind of person I am. I wonder how all this things connect to the kind of convictions I have. I wonder further why a simple ranting about events that happen to my life (about something that annoyed me) can be a basis of the kind of person I am. Or is it just another case of someone waiting for me to say something wrong in this blog and then use my own words against me?

Just to reiterate, the event that I was talking about was a simple thing that I hated. It wasn't about moral convictions, it was more of releasing the sad feelings I had about that event and at the same time getting my message accross to the people that I might have offended for refusing their offer to eat something. To clear things out, the reason I wrote that in my blog is because I do not want them to misinterpret me (they read this blog) by my refusal for they are people that I deeply care about. I would have not experienced so many of my joys as a cadet. Without them supporting me and giving me all the tender and loving care I need, I live a miserable life. And so I ask again how are these things entirely connected to the kind of soldier I will become and to my convictions as a person?

As a writer, I do know that the words that I write reflect the kind of person I am. The ideas that I present are little pieces of my convictions and the things that I consider as important. This blog has been a vehicle of so many of these ideas that to a certain extent I could say that my life has been written for the past five years throught this. But then, I must say, that this blog does not give the right to people to make judgments on the kind of person I am. They may not necessarilly agree with everything that I present but then they are entitled to that. I do not really care if they consider me as some prick who is so loud in his blog for the simple reason that they do not really know me and the most important thing... THIS IS MY BLOG. If you can not handle what I write then STAY AWAY.

Now on the aspect of me becoming a good soldier... YOU DO NOT HAVE ANY IDEA. I am declaring it now that I will be good but despite that you can choose to believe me or you can conclude that I am just trying to please people. But the truth of the matter is you can not do anything if I will be good or bad but the good thing is that I am assuring you that I will be good. I will not burden myself with the anxiety of thinking what people think about me but I will simply do what I know is right based on my convictions as a person. In the end, I will be judged not on how likable I have become but who I am as a person in the sight of God. If you really care whether or not I will be good don't harass me, instead guide me and pray for me.

This was fun...