50 Kilometers

WARNING: This “story” has no plot.

They announced that the start finish tarp had been attached the wrong way so that, before the race started, we had to do a fake start in the wrong direction for the press. Maman Rach and I were too busy taking our own pictures to pay much attention.

They announced that there were 20 seconds left. I fiddled with my camera trying to find a way to keep it within reach without having it bounce while I ran. 10 seconds. I was still fiddling. Start! Without looking up, I followed Maman and Rach as they walked along the cement road going towards the trail. Dozens jogged past us, a few others walked with us.

Though it’s always nice to run with friends, something told me to go on ahead, I wanted to go it alone. So, I did.

“It’s flat!” I told Maman, “Lets go!”

I meant to tell him that we should jog while it was flat and walk when we got to the hills but I was too excited.

“Relax lang muna,” he replied in that no-worries tone of voice he often used with me. None-the-less, I didn’t want to relax. Yes, I wanted to be smart and conserve my energy for the 99.7 more kilometers ahead but I also wanted to have fun and get the feel for the race. So, I jogged. Though completely superficial this early on, passing people on the trail still made me feel good about myself. It was a combination of my competitive nature and being such amateur that I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was done.

I passed Simon.

I passed Miles.

I took some pictures along the way.

When familiar faces began to pass me when I’d stop to take a picture, I stopped taking pictures and stuffed my camera hastily in my bag’s pocket. At this point, every second was still precious. When even more people passed me, I thought, I’ll, at least, catch up. But, I’d eaten breakfast too late. My sides began to stitch. And so I did. The first Logistical Point (LP01) was about 8k in.

Simon, a bit tired looking, had caught up. He offered me some dried Mango as we drank water provided by LP01.

Simon Passed me.

I drank.

Miles Passed me.

I drank.

I hadn’t drank much of my own water, so there was no need to refill my bladder.

Back on the trail, I considered waiting for Maman and Rach to catch up but I knew I’d grow too impatient to wait. So, I jogged on.

More people caught up.

I jogged faster.

More people caught up.

I ran.

My left sole began to flip and flop with every step. I looked down.

Flip.

Flop.

Flip.

Flip.

Flop.

I slowed to a stop. On the side of the road I opened my pack for the first time, hassled by the stop. At this point every second was still precious.

“Okay ka lang?” They asked as the passed me.

They passed me.

“Okay lang, salamat.”

They passed me.

I figured I’d tape my other shoe for preventive measures, so, they passed me some more.

And, I ran again.

Cramps. I didn’t want to stop. Every second was still precious. Instead of stopping, I tried to walk it off. I walked and walked and when the pain on my upper right calf subsided I jogged again.

Cramps.

Crap.

“Okay ka lang?”

“Cramps lang. Salamat.”

I stopped, I stretched then I walked.

I drank my Gatorade and I walked.

I drank my Gatorade and my but I’d eaten breakfast too late and I was still feeling it bounce around in my stomach.

I walked until I hit the road part of the course. It was flat.the road part of the course LP02. 16K off. I walked and walked and when the pain subsided I jogged again.

atient. as a combi Slowly, I worked up to jog. Cars were whizzing by and it would have been smart of me to get off the pavement and work the dirt but dirt was harder to run on.

Cars continued to whiz by.

Until the end of the paved part, I’ll jog until the end of the paved part. At this point, every minute was still precious and every minute I spent jogging was two minutes I wouldn’t have to walk.

Until the end of the paved part.

Until the end of the paved part.

I’m getting too tired. This is ridiculous. 80+ kilometers to go.

Shit.

Shit.

I walked again.

I drank my Gatorade and I walked again.

Finally, the paved part was done but after a less than a kilometer of trail, it was paved again. But, I was getting too tired anyway. I needed to conserve my energy.

“Lets go!” Cheered an old man from behind me.

The old man passed me.

I went.

I jogged.

I kept up with him.

I drank my Gatorade and I went.

Finally, I began to pass some of the ones who’d passed me before. Some had even stopped at a sari-sari store to grab a cold drink. Sparkle. They’re gonna regret that later. With that, I let the old man get away as I walked and drank more Gatorade. I had to stop and pee every two minutes.

Another man passed.

I followed him. I followed him until LP2.

LP02

16K

74K

9K to LP3.

This was where they brought my care package. I hadn’t even eaten any trail food yet so I didn’t even bother with it. It would serve me well the second time around. They had bananas. I had one but I’d eaten my breakfast too late. Still, I had another. I could have used another for the cramps but I’d eaten my breakfast much too late, only 10 minutes before the race. I didn’t want to be heavy. I didn’t refill my bladder.

Instead, I drank.

I’ll refill at the next stop.

I’ll refill at the next stop.

I’ll refill at the next stop.

The next stop didn’t have water.

I drank.

I’ll refill at the next stop.

I’ll refill at the next stop.

I’ll refill at the next stop.

The next stop didn’t have water.

I drank.

Somewhere along the way, the tape came off of my right shoe. It was the preventive tape so I was fine.

I’ll refill at the next stop.

I’ll refill at the next stop.

I’ll refill at the next stop.

I’ll refill at the next stop.

Cramps.

This time, it was on the quad of the same leg. The Gatorade wasn’t cutting it so I ate the first of three Cloud 9’s. I looked around and I was alone. As I walked and walked farther, following the red and white North Face flags and stickers, I tried to take in each turn, hoping to remember them for the second lap when it would be dark. And, I was alone, so there wasn’t much else to think about except…

Cramps on the other leg.

I walked and walked it off and I finished my Gatorade.

Multiple cramping areas, I walked off.

Finally, just as I began to see people again, the river crossing.

Simon was already on the other side with his friend drying off their feet. It seemed that no one wanted to run in wet shoes so I took mine off as well. I sighed at the refreshing temperature of the water as it penetrated my skin to my upper right calf. But, maneuvering over lose rocks in murky water was a challenge to my cramping legs. I barely made it to the other side.

Miles was there too. Because I knew that they’d be faster than me, I didn’t take the time to rest and wipe but left right away.

“Sarap ng Bengay.” Miles said.

“Ang init, sarap.”

Cramps, I remembered.

So I asked for some and smeared it on before I left. As I waited for the init, I thought I hadn’t put enough until my balls began to burn. The vapory heat had crawled up my legs. It burned. It burned, but my legs were good as new. Thank God for Miles.

But It wouldn’t last, so I walked again.

And, Simon and his friend ran passed.

And, Miles and his friends ran passed and I followed. I followed behind their slowest guy. I followed until I couldn’t follow anymore and my legs began to cramp up in places they’d never cramped before. So, I walked again.

The tape came off of my other shoe, the broken one. I taped it up again. If I had to tape it every 3 kilometers, there was no way my shoes would last 80 more. When the tape came off again, I decided to leave it.

Finally, there was an aid station. I filled my bladder with. I didn’t need to fill it up. I shouldn’t have but I did.

“May duct tape kayo?”

“Wala, sorry.”

Damn.

As I negotiated the sticky mud that seemed to be sucking the soles off my shoes with every step, I found myself talking out loud to them.

“If I can last 70+ more kilometers, you can last 70+ more kilometers.”

Later, I felt too inhibited to do it at the aid station so I walked passed that and passed another martial point through the mud until I was out of sight before I took out an Enervon multivitamin which I drank and a hydrite tablet for my water.

I drank and I drank and I peed and I peed until my piss was on the fringe of apple-green but my cramps never went away completely.

I walked until the worst was over, I jogged until it came back.

I walked, I jogged, I walked again but mostly I walked from then on.

Recovery mode.

Two girls that I’d noticed at the river crossing came up behind me, keeping pace with me as we walked.

At the next river crossing, my socks were still moist from the first. They took their time, I didn’t. Not long after, there was a third crossing where I did the same while they wiped their feet dry. Still, the two girls caught up while I was negotiating a particularly muddy patch of trail. They’d gone off trail to a parallel higher level to avoid the mud.

“Dyan ka talaga dumaan! Hehe.”

They, too, passed me as I was left to feel the wet and sticky mud that seemed to be sucking the soles off my shoes with every step.

I don’t remember the facts and figures but I remember computing them in my head in anticipation of the 14 hour cut off for the first fifty kilometer loop.

Another old man passed me and he was only walking.

I walked faster.

I walked faster and almost constantly had him in sight though the forest, on to the road until we hit a martial station and, as he stopped to ask for directions, I caught up. Back in the forest, he stopped, looked back at me and said, “San kaya?” The trail seemed to be corded off with nowhere to go. He hadn’t noticed that the trail went down.

“Dun o!”

I passed him and wondered if I’d taken his position somewhat unethically or tactlessly. I was too tired to look back, so I didn’t. Along the way, walking briskly, we passed others. The trail was heading uphill where I could comfortably keep my pace while others, probably not used to walking on trails, faltered.

I wanted to conserve my hydrite tablets so when I’d finished one, I stuck with water. I remembered my trail food. My mom had bought me random things at the supermarket based on vague descriptions of what trail food was.

Sunmaid Mixed Dried Fruits.

Sunmaid Mixed Dried Fruits!

Sunmaid Mixed Dried Fruits!

The moment they hit my lips, I can’t describe the love I felt for my mom. It was heaven.

Sunmaid Mixed Dried Fruits and mom’s love got me through to the third logistical point with much of the same nuisances as before: broken shoes, wet socks and F’d up legs.

There was another river crossing along the way. Sitting on a rock to take my shoes off, I used the opportunity to cut the loose bits of sole off the bottom of my poor shoes.

“Retirement climb,” I told the marshal.

At about twelve o’clock, I planned to have lunch at LP04 and even take a nap. I estimated it would take an hour or so to get there. If I was in for lunch and a nap, I might as well jog and use up what energy I had left before the rest. Shoes no longer flip-floppy, I found a good stride in there. But, I estimated wrong. It took me closer to two hours. I don’t remember specifically but I probably got leg cramps again at this point. Luckily, I’d reached LP04 right before the heavy rains hit. Just as luckily, I’d caught up to Simon who happened to have a pair of. If the monoblock chair and Simon’s dry and soled shoes paired with my dry spare socks wasn’t heaven enough, after taking a few last pictures of my shoes that I’d probably never see again, I finally had lunch. “Zesto-packed” corned beef and bread. But as the people came in for shelter from the rain, I was lost for a place to rest my head for the nap I’d been anticipating. I settled to enjoy every moment of my sandwich before trudging on again. It was only drizzling by then. I felt that God was on my side.

Along the trail, I heard the rain strengthening from behind and retreated under a tree. A family of locals caught my eye and invited me into their home for better cover. They even had not-so-warm coffee. Coffee dehydrates but I had the whole mug anyway. They asked where I was from and asked about the race. I asked if the rain would stop any time soon. They said it should be gone in a while. My skepticism prepared me mentally for the worst while I prepared physically by switching back to my old socks and taking out my rain coat. By the time that they’d told me about the other runner who’d gotten hungry and had a quick merienda with them, the rain had gone.

And, I was off.

I walked and walked and jogged but mostly walked. I’d also picked up a stick along the way to help me walk.

It broke.

I picked up another.

Then, on my way down from a small paved path running down a hill, I saw it: Assault.

Every minute wasn’t so precious anymore so I waited at least fifteen at the saddle between the two hills before attempting to scale it.

Assault.

“It’s not so bad.”

“It’s not so bad.”

And it wasn’t. My mind had played a trick on me. The hill was no bigger or steeper than the one I’d just scaled.

So, I walked on until I finally caught up to my friend who I’d cut off before. At one of the stations, I’d learned his name and the names of the other familiar faces when the marshals asked for them. I’ve forgotten them already as I’m sure this group of guys who I’d walked side by side with for about 35 kilometers have forgotten my name as well. Again, there was much of the same. Walking, cramping up, resting, jogging and walking. This time though, I had my stick for company and some familiar faces for a semblance of familiarity in the depths of forests and small towns.

As we walked, the children would call out numbers, our numbers. I was: Zero-Six-Four. They’d also call out other numbers, two digit numbers. These were our estimated places: 32, 35, 41 and eventually as the day went on, 53, 55 and so on. But all we could do was walk a little, jog a little and walk a little more.

Night fell. Headlamp on, I saw Crow coming around for his second loop.

“Malapit-lapit na yan,” he volunteered without my asking.

About 5 Kilometers later I hated him for saying that.

Malapit-lapit my A*%

For a while now I’d been leading the pack, until I’d eventually left them. But it was all for naught when the trail seemed to split to two and there was not a trail marker in sight. I took the left which lead me to a dead end. When I looked back, I saw headlamp lights bouncing towards what would have been right.

Shit.

But all I could really do was walk.

So we walked.

So I walked.

And as dragging as this is to read at this point, it was a thousand times more dragging for us to walk.

We hit the road that we’d jogged in the beginning and expected the finish line to be beyond the bend and we continued to walk until I had thoughts of quitting again. I fell behind. I fell behind and was left alone. A motorcycle pulled up beside me to offer a ride. I thanked the driver but declined. I would walk.

For the rest of the evening, we walked and we walked and I walked.

50 kilometers I walked.

I need...

I need Richard Dacalos to invite me to one of his impromptu sleepovers where all we eat is microwavable chimichangas or take out pizza and all we do is call Krystal Lao, Kristine Chan, Carlos Frogoso, Felix Ganchoki, Judy Antonio, Kathy Taylor or Tess Rivera until their parents come along and make them hang up. I need Gene Bautista to drag me around Metro Manila chasing another one of his girls on a school night hoping that maybe somewhere along the way, I can find someone for me too. I need Carlos Frogoso to call and tell me that he’ll be at the mall and so-and-so are already on the way. I need to dream of going out to buy ice cream with Tess Rivera and then actually go out and do it the next day. I need Krystal Lao not to realize, when she brings me to the roof of her condo building that that look she’s giving me in that dress she’s wearing will stay etched in my mind forever. I need Kristine Chan to talk to me until three or four in the morning on a school night, only hanging up because one of us is nodding off. I need to sing One Sweet Day or Mmm.. Bop at the top of my lungs in the hallways of OB Montessori Greenhils with Ken Sy without knowing half of the meaning of the song and without a care in the world for anything else. I need Felix Ganchoki to know exactly how I feel about Kathy Taylor and we’d sit there both stuck, not knowing what to do about it. I need relationship advice from Judy Antonio and Tess Rivera that will make me fall in love with them. I need Lady Angsico to break my heart over and over for three years until I’ve finally had enough. I need Hugo Rafael to be my coach on life again, to tell me that I’m a trend setter, to force me to dream big and to be the older brother that my older brother never wanted to be until it seemed too late. I need Kevin Yu to ask me how I can climb like that without any training. I need Lawrence Mistades to bring back stupid old stories about how much of a loner I am in the gym. I need Suzane Davies to shout at someone! I need Krissie Coseteng so that Ria Valera and I can share her belly as a pillow for a nap on the crashpads before climbing. I need Ria Valera so I can watch DVD’s at her house while her brothers Igo and Vito Valera try to get in close with our group of friends. I need Det Uy to make me sing the only lyrics I know of Total Eclipse of the Heart (“Turn around!”) while she fills in the rest of the lyrics. I need Gax Ilanan to shout my name as I walk in through the door of Power Up as if they hadn’t seen me in years. I need Cams Venturina to make me buy pasolubong for my mom and sister even if I don’t have any money left. I need Coy Woothritch to booth jokingly and awkwardly call me "boyfriend" when her real boyfrend had mutual understandings (MU's) with both Lady Angsico and Krissie Coseteng, each before they became my girlfriend. I need Maman Salada to jokingly call me "hon" as in "honey" because he missed his girlfriend on the three week trip from Boracay to Iloilo to Cagayan de Oro to Davao that was only supposed to be a weekend in Boracay. I need to have a crush on Trisha Yaokasin again and have those two days back so I could say what I was really thinking, so I could fight for her. I need Cat Ocariz to invite me to her house but not tell me exactly how to get there so that I’m asking for directions on winding empty streets towards the innermost bowels of her subdivision so that I feel like I’d left Metro Manila half an hour ago. I need Mansy Abesamis to wear her heart on her sleeve when she gets tipsy or drunk. I need Owen Sanico to nod at me and continue the conversation when I think that no one understands what I’m trying to say. I need Carmela Causgbu to stutter in English, stop and try again in tagalog. I need EJ Gamboa to kidnap me while I’m studying and drive a bunch of us up to Antipolo for some drinks. I need Royce Cardenas to trail run right along side of me when the guides make a run for it while the others get left behind. I need to bivwack with Pappy Tagabay on Mt. Kanlaon of all places. I need Rap Santos to wait outside in the rain in God knows what Pulag temperature because Mads Constantino and Tammy Mendoza are inside the tent changing for an hour. I need Jacky Chua to take over my TL duties on the way to La Union because I’m too hung over to do it myself. I need Mike Lu to get excited over something so seemingly trivial like a font, an insect or a certain shade of yellow. I need Des Llanos-Dee to trip me for no reason on EDSA walk like we’re in grade school or something again. I need Brian Balagot to be so obsessed about guitar, b-boying or weight loss that its freaking inspiring. I need Geric Anonas to be so brutally honest that it’s funny. Or Ace Ramos to give me a very gay tickle from behind and laugh in my face about it. I need Nikkos Santiago to play old school (not Rayan Cabrera) music from his phone while we drink until someone passes out. I need to meet Nikkos Santiago, Cholo de Villa unexpectedly in Boracay when I’d been preparing to be alone on that free trip. I need Earvin Martinez to know the Katipunan street kids and talk to them like equals. I need to sleep on the floor in Herbie Natividad's new and literally empty condo unit where all we have to eat is various flavors of intant noodles all mixed into one giant bowl and all we have to do is drink, listen to music and talk. I need King Echiverri to kiss Gene Bautista on the lips to make girls squirm and guys feign throwing up. I need [Name removed to protect the person's character] to hide his gayness from me while trying to squeeze gossip out of me. I need Martin Villanueva to tell me something I never knew about a writer I’d always thought so distant from myself. I need Martin Villanueva and Lee-Anne Tobias to get me to get lost driving them to Ginny Sonico’s house only to find out that she doesn’t have a doorbell and our phones didn’t work and the maids weren’t answering the door because they thought that we were some kind of delinquents with nowhere else to hang out. I need Cindy Custodio to talk about Tata right in front of Cor and how she hugged us at grad. I need Jerome Chua to tell me that burgers come in cans in Germany and to laugh at and judge famous terror teachers as if they were contestants on America’s Got Talent. I need Paula Peralta to tipsily break her heel and ask me to break the other one so that she can walk properly and on the same night, I need Lee-Anne Tobias to have a crush on a college freshmen who actually turns out to be a high school senior. I need Ria Macasaet to openly cry because she bumped her head on the roof handle of my car. I need Blockdo to play that game that time that we said we'd never tell and leave me with half an hour of sleep the night before I had to run 10k at the King of the Road on the heels of Pappy Tagabay. I need Rico Diaz to be the perfect boyfriend to Ail Ty and I need Ail Ty and Tammy Mendoza to suck all of my secrets from me until the weight of the world is suddenly divided by three. I need Bianca Silva to be my baby and to really act like a baby with all their need for hugs and attention and doting. I need Geline Velayo to shout out loud how fast she saw me run by during the Orienteering test after Mt. Cristobal. I need Nana Enerio to take care of me like how she always takes care of everyone else. I need Julian Suarez to attempt to sing an entire alphabet worth of Karaoke songs in one sitting. I need Raf Reyes to ask me another follow up question. I need Julian Suarez, Nana Enerio and Raf Reyes to be game for anything. I need Kaye, Jako, EJ and Charize Robles to sing our grandma a Harana and sleep over at Kayes, eating junk food, watching foreign asian films and making deep, deep confessions for no reason.

I need these moments in life that make me feel like I’m alive and these people who make them possible. I kinda need them now.

My Brother Left for Canada

My brother left for Canada today. He really left. He said he would do it and then he did. I feel like the whole thing was decided overnight. I’ve been in Baguio and Novaliches for the past two weeks and I wasn’t really around for any of it except for today: the last day. The fact that I even went on those trips might hint to you that he and I weren’t at all close. I love him as much as one could love a brother who he doesn’t drink with, he doesn’t go to for help or even talk to outside of calling through the bathroom door asking, “are you done yet?” I originally wrote “loved” in that last sentence and went back and erased the “ed” I guess that’s telling as well. He’s gone. Last night he was driving me home from dinner with our grandparents (my parents had brought a separate car because they’d planned to go to Heckle and Jeckle again). It turned out we had a lot more in common than I thought. He wanted to stay in the Philippines but his major concern was financial, he wanted to live in different places all over the world and other more personal things as well. Today, I wasn’t even sure I was going to the airport to say goodbye to him (I hadn’t really gotten a decent night’s sleep since Tuesday) but I’m glad I did. Despite the insightful evening and all 30 or so minutes of what was quite possibly the longest conversation I’ve had with him since we were boys, I still caught myself exasperated at some of the things that went on in the car ride to NAIA. He hadn’t distributed his cash into different places which was traveling 101 for me, when I told him that liquids weren’t allowed in his hand carry, I would have expected him to move his facial products into his suitcase even if my mom said that the limit was 100ml but she wasn’t sure if it was in total or per container, but he didn’t, little thing like that that made it hard for us to share much more than a bathroom. Some part of me was even annoyed that I couldn’t talk about the writing workshop that I had just come back from and was still excited about because I didn’t want to make everything about me. And so, we unloaded his luggage, he hugged my dad and then my mom and kind of awkwardly put his arm around my shoulder. He let go and looked at us and his face became pink, and scrunched up. His shoulders began to jerk and not so suddenly, we were brothers and we cried. My parents were surprisingly calm. My dad told him to think of it as a vacation, if he didn’t like it, he could always come back. On the ride home, I was quiet.

Unsent e-mail

Don’t laugh

I finally got around to reading Harry Potter (don’t worry, no spoilers) and I feel like I’ve lost a dozen friends. It’s not because of what happens in the plot or anything but just because it’s the last time that Harry and his friends will ever be written about (Although part of me wishes that JK Rowling will do some kind of prequel about James, Lily and Snape). The seventh book was my last party with them, my last three day/one year journey and I feel like it came and went. Having lost all those fictional friends, I thought I’d write to my friends in the flesh.

It’s just that, its not only sad in itself but - and I’m not sure how much sense this will make but – its sad that its not so sad anymore. And that goes for all of life. Its sad that its not so sad that we’ll never go through LM induction again. Its sad that its not so sad anymore that we five never get to see each other anymore. Its sad that its not so sad that Tammy, Nana and I are graduating and will soon be leaving behind the biggest chunk of what we have come to understand as our lives as we know them.

I used to get really obsessed with these things as a kid. Final Fantasy 8, A Knight’s Tale, Harry Potter, I’d really let myself go, let myself believe and to be taken into these impossible worlds in words or on screen, embarrassed of the indirect relationship between my age and my level at which I’d been smitten. I took suspension of disbelief to a different level. I’m sure I’m not the first one but I wanted to go to Hogwarts, I wanted to joust on horses and win a princess and, I wanted to fight monsters with my gang of friends. It’s sad that its not that sad anymore that I can’t see myself doing those things ever again. Maybe I’m having an early quarter-life crisis but I used to believe that the word “Idealistic” was a complement. Now its fast becoming a synonym for “Naïve”.

I guess it’s really the same thing I was saying before about relationships. I was afraid that I’d been damaged or numbed. I think it’s the thought of having lost potency. The thought of being less than what I was, weaker, deficient and somewhat calloused.

I - thank - you. Hahaha.

dru

Know thy Characters or Become a Body Builder

Damn, it’s been a while. Two months! I’m not going to get into the reason why. It’s time to just get right back on the horse.

In Abola’s class, all my works were character driven. I’d know the character I wanted to write and I simply wrote about that character, found out where he’d bring me and what he’d do. He’d take on a life of his own and I was simply the stenographer of my own creation, a writer of biographical (although fictional) slices of life. The problem was that I didn’t care which details were really merited and which should be left implied.

In Suchen’s class, I’ve tended to start with big ideas and work from there. A man finds himself in a cloud of grasshoppers with little kids picking off the oblivious creatures one by one. How does he get there? A woman masseuse finds herself smitten by her client’s daughter. How do I show the novelty in the event? When exactly does the attraction come about? How do I contrast this to her usual mechanical sessions with other clients? Suchen described it as “adding salt here and adding pepper there,” and to build off of her analogy, without first knowing whether I’m cooking chicken or beef, noodles or soup. I don’t know my characters.

Granted, I’ve stopped writing “Starbucks Fiction” about shallow college kids with their idealism and their principles that they’d die for and their insistence that somehow their opinions would matter to a reader (not much unlike this blog), but in doing so, I find myself writing about characters that I know nothing about; those whose worldviews are unfathomable to me making it impossible to suspend the reader’s disbelief within the context of realistic fiction as opposed to tale telling like in A Sand Story.

I’ve lost the intimacy I’d once had with my characters. A guest speaker at one of my workshops (I don’t remember who, sorry ma’am) said that my story had the backbone of an award winning piece and that it was the language that needed improving. Like a dolt, I wrote my next piece with high school cry of “more description, more figures of speech, more details, show don’t tell!” I only now realize what she really meant by language. The language itself, the diction, the grammar and the syntax does not have to be impressive (and sometimes even gets annoying when it’s overdone). Rather, the language (and not necessarily the speech) has to suit the character.

The same teacher told me that language is a wonderful problem to have. I think she meant that an out of shape, yet experienced, ballerina is always a ballerina. She can always work out, strengthen her muscles, and regain her flexibility but a female body builder, no mater how strong, flexible or agile, would need much more work to become a ballerina. That’s what I think.

At this point I don't really care if this is well written, I just want to get it out. I just want closure.

Tuesday two weeks ago, Fr. David, my theology professor, assigned 500+ pages of reading for the next day. I had already been cramming all of my studies to make room for The Republic so I'd forgotten to write an essay assigned for another class that day. When I went home to work on the essay during my hour and a half class because I'd left the questions at home, I discovered that MS Word was bugging out. This happened once before and after deleting some big files, it worked again, so that's what I did. When that didn't work, I turned the laptop off and when I tried to turn it on again, it just didn't do anything at all. I ended up writing my essay on lined paper and not submitting my design homework that was saved on the laptop.

The next night, my mom totally surprised me when she said I might be able to get the mac I was supposed to get the year before. Soon after, I was brought down to earth when I saw her again and she said it would be better to get a cheap laptop and wait until I'm working to get a better one. That was our game plan. I would have to wait another three years at least for my mac.

On Sunday, coming from my grandma's house, we stopped by gateway to canvass on laptops. To my surprise and delight, my dad was ready to buy a laptop that they had for sale only they didn't have stock. My brother, being my brother, hit me while I was down in asking my dad if I really even needed a laptop. Of course I didn't, of course I don't. I don't really need anything but oxygen if you really think about it. But having a laptop did make my life a hell of a lot easier especially since MS office on the Desktop was a trial version that had expired months ago and there I was required to submit a type written essay without a proper word processor.

The next Monday while I was minding my own business trying to catch up for David's class my mom says, "Lets buy it!" I wanted to study but my dad had called and told my mom to get it as soon as possible so that I could use it for school. Long story short, we called half a dozen shops and finally at 5pm we decided on a good deal at PCcorner on Gilmore ave. We weren't sure if we would make it before closing at 730 but I didn't want to have wasted all that study time and have nothing to show for it, so we went. And as luck would have it, there was absolutely no traffic on the way. It felt meant to be. We bought an even better laptop than the one we wanted and I went home more than satisfied.

On the same night, as I was closing the gate after my brother had parked his car in the garage, I told him the good news. He told me the bad news. He gotten, that day, a discount for a P83K laptop, he would only have to pay P45K for it. My heart sank in my chest. We told my dad, we pointed fingers and I thought that was that. Sure I would like to have had a better laptop but with how fast I got it and the fact that I got one better than the one I had set my lowered expectations on made me feel satisfied at getting a good deal.

Yesterday, coming home from Mt. Sembrano, my sister asked me if the laptop had a webcam. Then and there I realized that the flier said it did but I hadn't actually seen the webcam. I thought this might be grounds for returning the laptop so that I could get the more expensive one or at the very least I would get a free webcam so I told my parents about it and I went to the store today with my mom. I went in alone because she couldn't find parking.

Right off the bat, they offered me an external webcam. I also noticed that the old fliers had been replaced. My motivations being secretly beyond the issue of webcam, I asked if I could just return it. What they offered instead was an inferior model with a built in webcam plus P2000 credit a their store. I didn't bite. I SMS'd both my dad and my brother for advice and (after calling her cellphone) I discovered that my mom had parked too far away for her to join me at the shop and to help me argue my point. Basically my dad told me to ask my brother and my brother told me to take the free laptop. I made my last feeble attempt at a refund before calling my mom to come pick me up. While waiting for her outside, my dad SMS'd me telling me not to give in but just then, my mom arrived honking at me to get in the car already because of the traffic she was causing. From the car, I called my dad to tell him what happened and I told him that the 7day replacement policy would expire after today and that he should get there before 730pm if he wanted to try to argue himself. He said that he wouldn't be able to make it. Again, I left thinking that everything was finally over and that that was that.

Again I was wrong. My dad was pissed. He told me that I shouldn't have given in. He told me that the webcam wasn't enough and he told me that he would go back himself tomorrow and try himself. When he asked me for the flier that with the claimed webcam, I told him that I didn't have it, that I'd left it behind. He stormed out.

Later that night (this night), he told me it was like buying an Altis and being given a Vios. He was still bothered by it. He still planned to go to PCcorner the next day an to get everything straightened out. I told him that it might be better to get it replaced with the P83K laptop that my brother had a discount on and then have the discount reimbursed. With his regular employee discount, that's how it worked. But this was a special discount, my dad told me that, for this discount, we would have to pay by cash or by check. I did not know this. Had I known this, I wouldn't have been disappointed all week about a false prospect. I wouldn't have been stressing at all because I really don't care about the webcam that I'm never going to use anyway. I could have been happy from the beginning.

The thing I got from my father was that it was the principle of the matter.

If we're talking principles, is it better to fight an uphill battle for something that you don't really need, just to prove a point even if you already got a free webcam out of it? Is it really better to stress yourself out and to stress out everyone around you and to hassle the salespeople who are just doing their jobs just because you feel like you've been cheated out of something you never really had? If the original issue was to get me a laptop as fast as possible so that I could use it for school, where are your principles in delaying the whole thing just to appease your ego?

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Created by Eugene Villar.