How often do we sing this word in songs, read in prose and poetry, and talk about with our friends? In wedding proposals and wedding vows you would hear: “We are soul mates.” “We are meant to be together” and at the wedding reception the song “Baby You’re My Destiny” by Jim Brickman would be playing. In epic novels, at the birth of the hero someone would say: “This boy is destined for greatness.” And let us not forget how we all have thought about: “What is my destiny?”
Every day we live our lives – playing, studying, working, eating, sleeping or just doing whatever – seemingly aimless. But this one word—this one very powerful word offers an explanation to what we do, to who we are and to what we are meant to be. D-E-S-T-I-N-Y… Destiny.But is it real?
It is quite a romantic idea, isn’t it? It always seems to give a sense of purpose especially to those who feel little or who have suffered so much that the belief of bigger important things to come gives meaning to all that they have went through. Unfortunately I do not share the same sentiments. Despite the excruciating pangs of my own life, I believe that a breathing human being is only destined for two things: to be born and to eventually die. What we do in between is life—a series of choices.
Relationships between two different people work because they choose to make it work. There are those people who move from rags to riches because they choose to earn and save money. Students fail their exams because they choose not to study for it or the teacher chooses to make it extremely difficult for a student to answer. A man dies in a motor accident because someone chose to drive drunk. A woman gets AIDS because she chose a very sexually promiscuous boyfriend who chose not to get himself checked and consider his partner’s safety. You do not get hired for a job because the employer chooses not to choose you. Much of what happens in one’s life can be explained by choices made.
But there are lots of things that an individual cannot perceive or control but were made through a series of choices by himself and other people and all the rest that cannot be explained by choice is just a matter of getting the better hand in life and working with it, such as in the case of the disabled. The disabled are ordinary people given extraordinary challenges, who did not choose or were chosen to be disabled. However, that does not change the fact that they are. They are still given a choice though- either to work with that disability or let that disability pull them down and the rest of their lives depend on the choice that they make. Choices: that is what it is all about.
Destiny, I also believe, has become a popular excuse by those who cannot accept their mistakes and their shortcomings. It is so easy to say that a singer did not win a contest because he was not meant to but the truth is that that singer was not good enough. It is so easy to blame destiny for a loved one’s untimely death instead of pointing out that he died because he smoked and drank a lot. We use this word – destiny to euphemize the otherwise mean but truthful occurrences or characteristics about ourselves or other people.
But the bottom line is: what we do, who we are and who we are meant to be are not determined by destiny. It is determined by knowing oneself – knowing our abilities and limitations and choosing our life’s path based on that knowledge and based on our will to be the best that we can be. So if destiny truly exists, it exists in the choices that we make.
“Why did you leave the University of Asia and the Pacific?”
“Why did you come back to Daet?”
“Why did you stop studying?” and,
“Why do you look so grossly fat?” So many whys…
It would be very easy for me to lie even if my moral compass points at the other direction. But everybody lies anyway and quite frankly, I have had enough with explaining myself especially to the number of people who only ask for the sake of gossip - the same people who created the rumor that I pushed my dad down the stairs, that I have a child and the worst, that I have lost my sanity.
People are amazing. They are very creative and imaginative. It is incredible how people can construct something out of nothing. It is pure genius or rather, it is god-like especially after the “creation” when they judge you like they can see and know who you are.
I think it is obvious at this juncture of this paper that I hold enormous grudges against quite a few people. And it is not because they ask questions but because they make questionable statements. Although it is not my main point, it cannot be helped that I make mention of the strong feelings I have for these people; for as I ponder and reflect upon the emotional aspect of my personality, I am reminded of the past five years of my life that has ultimately defined me.
I left my former university and the wealthy future that they would have offered me, I went back home and stopped studying for two years all because I wanted to. Some people think that it is a shallow reason. “Why should anyone give up the chance for success?” Heck, the reason why they think that I have lost my sanity is because I have given up the chance of a lifetime in one of the most prestigious and the most expensive college in the country. But is it really that shallow?
Yes, I wanted all those things to happen. It was my choice but the very root of that want, that choice is nothing less than my emotions – my humanity.
If you really think about it, aren’t all the actions of every single person motivated by emotions? Hate and anger drive us to hurt people; while happiness and joy inspire us to do good and to do right by others. And if you think about it even deeper, isn’t what makes us human our emotions? These emotions stir us to do unbelievable, extraordinary acts – acts that go beyond our selves, acts that make us proud and some that we regret… Perhaps, I have made a mistake but I do not regret it.
I was depressed. I did not adjust well to the kind of people in that university – rich prejudicial spoiled young men and women who were immature and self-absorbed. And although, there were a couple of people who did not fit that profile, they too felt like an outcast in that very small world. It was hard to fit in. I was not allowed to be myself and I not only say this because I felt it but also because the moments that I tried to show the real me to my so-called friends in that university I was demeaned.
By my second semester in college, my period suddenly stopped coming. At first it was convenient. Having a scholarship to keep, 27 units, hard-pressed projects, papers and presentations, and keeping up with my classmates socially and academically, not having a period was one hardship less in my life. But of course, consequences were inevitable. After several months, I had myself checked by a gynecologist and I was diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome a.k.a PCOS. I am incapable of ovulating… Incapable of having a baby… What’s worse is that because of it I have become so unattractively grossly overweight making it even harder to socialize. I cannot explain the feeling when one says to your face, “Ay! Si Rhoda… naiwan sa kusina.” or“Buti naman hindi kumukupos ang gulong ng bike mo.” and let me not forget the whispers and the giggles as I pass by.
But even though I did not feel like myself in that school and even though I was not well, I stayed because the truth is a part of me loved being there. I loved my professors. I learned a lot from them. I saw the world in a different light because of them and most of them liked me too like Sir Antonio, my Rizal teacher who is a Palanca Awardee; Dr. Fajardo, my Theater teacher who is a nominee to be a National Artist; all three of my literature teachers; my mentors and Fr. Perez, the Spanish priest who teaches Theology and my spiritual guidance counselor. I think they liked me because I was eager to learn and I was. Being in that school, I had a good excuse to ask my father for money to go to museums, theatrical plays and ballets that I enjoyed and miss. That part of the UAP culture is the only part that I miss and it sure was not enough to keep me there long especially after the great tragedy in my life.
My mother died.
She died three years ago exactly a week after my 18th birthday. A month before that my parents came to Manila. They told me that my mother was ill so she was just on leave to have herself checked and to recuperate. My mom said that I should not worry, she’ll be fine. I told her that she should have just retired from being a teacher because it is wearing her out but she did not want to. She loved teaching so much. After a couple of weeks, they told me that my mom has cancer but they still said she was going to be okay.
She was going to be okay…” I still linger upon those words.
Truth was I was not aware of the gravity of the situation. No one told me she was dying. They did not want me to know. They thought it was going to affect my studies badly. But I found it out myself by accident.
On my birthday, Friday, September 22nd of 2006 I went to the Kidney Center where my mother was staying. I wanted to spend my debut with my family. So there we were – just my father, my mother and I. No parties. No cakes. All we had was sinabawan from the cafeteria. But it was okay. All I really wanted was to be with my mom and I told her that she should not give up because I do not know what I am going to do without her. She was my sanctuary. She was my greatest teacher, my best friend… my everything. She was my reason.
So I slept that night beside her and on the morning as I pretended to sleep, the nurse checked up on my mom, asked my father what stage of cancer was she at and was told that she was at stage four. I was shocked. I did not know what to do. I was scared and angry at the same time. I kept asking myself, “why did I not notice?” But even then I did not realize that she was dying or maybe it is better say that I did not want to accept that she was dying. I kept thinking there is still hope. I was hoping for a miracle. But eventually you realize that miracles are miracles themselves. They hardly ever happen. So she died a week after and after that I was slowly dying with her.
It is an understatement to say that I did not take my mother’s death well. I did not take it at all. I blamed myself. I hated myself. But I tried my best to move on. On the other hand, the world was not helping me do that. My dad can be such a jerk who cares more about my studies so I can make money for him than what I felt about my mother’s death and just what I felt in general. He even told me once, “Wala na tayong magagawa. Patay na si mama mo at minolestiya ka ng taxi driver. Ano ba ang gusto mong gawin ko?” Maybe it is his way of defending his heart. I know that he hurts too.
And yes, I was sexually harassed by a taxi driver almost a month after my mother’s death. By some luck, I was able to get out of there before the worst happens. That time is a time that I buried in the very depths of my memory. I do not want to ever remember. And buried with that memory is a part of my heart that has grown tired of people. So tired that for some time I had thought of putting that heart at ease permanently. It is funny how I used to laugh at the ignorant people who take their own life only to realize that I am also one of those ignorant people.
I took two years off in search of myself, to find my reason to live in a distasteful world and you know what I found? I found nothing.
The world is what it is and I am no one else but me. There is no one to find. There is no better or worse person. There is only me and what I make of myself in this world. Why should I care about the people who judge me without knowing the truth? Why should I listen to everybody else but not me? Why should I feel miserable for a choice that has made me happy?
I have only one life and I choose to live by my heart… by my feelings… by my emotions… by me.
Today is Saturday and I had my Social Arts midterm exam. I didn't do great 'cause I didn't study. But I doubt that I would fail. But that's really not the most interesting part of my day.
So here's the thing, I transferred to a college in my hometown and it's a lot less privileged than my former university but I have met a few people who have the capacity to go in to the same university I went to, one of whom is a guy who I will call in this entry as Mr. I-Want-It-All.
Mr. I-Want-It-All is actually good-looking. He's got the brains too. He's not my type though because aside from he's young, he's too much of a goody-goody and a loud-mouth. He's got organizations left and right and people are actually stupid enough to put him in-charge.
Why do I call them stupid if even I think that he's smart?
Well that's because him being smart does not necessarily mean that he's a good leader.
He's a worthless leader. It's because he keeps on taking on jobs that he can't do anymore. He likes to... "have it all", which is a stupid idea. No one can have it all. You prioritize and when you have had a lot of things on your hands already, you don't take on more responsibility. But he does. And he thinks that he's mature.
So anyway. We had a group meeting and he started crying like a wuss in front of the group because he says he can't take it anymore. "Everyone keeps on depending on me. I have an event tonight and another meeting later on . I haven't taken a single one of my exams and I want to get back together with my ex-girlfriend but I can't because we broke up in the first place because too many people were depending on me. But I want to get back together with her on the 14th." And I was just sitting there, pretending to be reviewing, holding my head down, biting my lip and trying not to laugh. It was pathetic. He actually cried like a little girl.
Come on! Does he really have to mention that he wants to get back with his ex? How is that even our problem? How does that even relate to our group problem? How does any of his problems our problems?
I'm sorry Mr. I-Want-It-All. You really just have to grow up and realize that in life you can't have it all. You can't pursue all things at the same time and think that you can do great at all of them. A successful life is made up of sacrifices. You have one specific concrete doable goal. And if that's done then you can go on and pursue another one specific concrete doable goal.
To be a success, you have to prioritize. The things that you want to do should be arranged according to importance so that in a situation where you have to choose which you have to do first then you would know what to do. Instead of feeling like you're in a pinch and you wouldn't have to waste time in deciding. Remember that time spent is time wasted.
You're the only one who is accepting all of these responsibilities. No one has forced you to accept any of it and that you could decline anytime. Do not make any excuses. It just makes you look pathetic.
It's been a long trying week. We have been working on our two video ads for our Multimedia Studies and Digital Animation class. But I think it's worth it. I love the result of all our hard-work and our team is so much fun to work with. I love them all. Wonderful actors and fantastic editors but more importantly, they are just awesome pips.
It would be an honor for me to work with them again.
The rainy season has come to the fair lands of the Philippines at last.
Looking up to the sky, I can only imagine the hot sun shining above all the dark clouds and I think about how wonderful it was to have felt the warmth of the sun against my skin in the summer.
But I remember a somewhat painful memory and I begin to wish that it was summer again so that I may change what I did.
Last summer on a very hot day, we - my cousins, my father and I decided to go for a swim in the river Mampurog. It was also my cousin's last Sunday at the countryside and she had hoped to go for a swim at the river. Everyone was so excited. We had fun even though there were just five of us, that is, before I ruined everything.
You know how people would jump in to the water? My cousins loved that and naturally they did it several times from a tree nested near a cliff. It looked like fun to me and I wanted to try it.
But right then, when I was about to jump. I froze. I couldn't jump. I saw my cousin in the water cheering me on but I couldn't.
Other people in the vicinity started to take notice. They too started to cheer me on or more likely they just thought it was entertaining. Everyone shouted at me to take the plunge. But all I could do was ask my cousins if it was deep enough... If I would be safe. They insisted that I was going to be but I found it hard to believe.
Was it my fear or was it that I did not trust them?
Many I believe would say it was the fear. I believe it was both.
I have always known that I was the type of person who would never get in to situations without knowing that I'll get through it. I made sure that everything I did was for sure.
I was afraid that I would get hurt. I was afraid that the water was not deep enough that when I hit the water I would hit a rock and fracture my legs. I was afraid that I was going to jump the wrong way, hit my head and die.
I felt that I had no assurance of what to become of me once I hit that water. I felt that my cousins' words were not enough assurance because I felt that I could not trust those words.
But the truth is, I cannot bring myself to trust anyone's words anymore. In the end, I couldn't make that jump. And as I passed through the spectators, one lady asked me, "why did you not jump?" All I could say was, "...because I could not see..."
The whole event seems like a little thing. Aside from embarrassing myself to a bunch of people I didn't know, it was and still is a big thing to me. I don't care that I disappointed my cousins and father, much less do i care about what those spectators thought about me. I care because I disappointed myself and finally realized what a horrible person I am - not because I was afraid but because I could not trust anyone to help vanquish that fear.
As I look up at the dark sky, I am anxiously waiting for summer to return - hoping that by then I could make that jump... hoping that I could take that leap of faith.
