"Adik sa'yo, awit sa akin..."

Pasado hating-gabi na, lahat ay balot sa katahimikan. Dahan-dahang bumabagsak ang ambon sa kapaligiran sabay ng unti-unti paglamig ng ihip ng hangin. Inilabas ko ng isang istik ng sigarilyo at sinindihan ito, ang tanging kasama ko sa kadiliman ng gabi. Hindi ako makatulog, sinusumpong ng insomnya, kaya naisipan kong lumabas sa munti naming veranda. Napakatahimik. Tama lang - para walang mangi-estorbo sa aking ka-dramahan at pagmumuni-muni sa pangungulila ko sa'yo.

"Tilang sawa na sa aking... mga kuwentong marathon..."

Gaano na ba katagal? Gaano katagal nang huli kitang naka-usap, nang huli kong narinig ang boses mo, nang huli kong nakita ang mga ngiti mo, nang huli kong narinig ang mga tawa mo na dati'y puno ng buhay at saya? Oo. Mag-iisang taon na nga pala. Napakatagal na. Ngunit parang kailan lang ay magkatabi tayong nag-uusap at hawak ko ang palad mo. Sa tuwing naiisip kita, hindi ko maiwasang mapabuntong-hininga at manghinayang. Naging mabuti sana tayong magkaibigan - kung naiwasan lang natin ang pagbabangayan.

"Tungkol sayo... at sa ligayang..."

Pinilit kong kalimutan ka, palitan ka, kahit na kamuhian ka para lang hindi ko na kailangang lumingon pa - pero parati ko pa ring natatagpuan ang sarili kong hinahanap ka. Minsan nakikita kita sa dating tagpuan natin, ngunit nawawala kapag ako'y lumapit. Nababaliw na nga siguro ako. Gusto kong kumustahin ka, marinig ang nasa isip mo, malaman ang mga bagay-bagay sa buhay mo ngayon. Nami-miss ko ang dati nating mga pag-uusap dahil ikaw lang talagang, malamang ang nag-iisa, nagpumilit unawain ako. Ilang beses kong ninais na tawagan ka, na kahit pa puno ng pagkayamot ang boses mo, para lamang marinig kang muli, para mapaniwala ko ang sarili ko na andiyan ka pa rin at hindi sa panaginip lang - pero hindi ko magawa. Wala na akong magawa. Huli na ang lahat.

"Iyong hatid... sa aking buhay..."

Inaamin ko, napakatanga ko para hindi malaman ang halaga ng isang tao - hanggang siya’y wala na sa akin. Hindi mo alam kung gaano kahirap ang mabuhay sa pagsisisi. Ang paglingon sa nakaraan na nangangarap na sana’y taglay ang kapangyarihang mabago ito. Ang humawak ng buong lakas sa alaala ng nakaraan ng isang tao dahil alam mong ito lang ang iisang magandang nangyari sa buhay mo. Ang magtanong sa sarili kung anong kinahinatnan ng lahat kung nasabi mo lang ang tamang salita, kung naipahiwatig mo lang ang tunay na nadarama, kung nagmahal ka lang nang buo’t walang takot. Ito’y parang isang kumunoy na dahan-dahan kang hinahatak pailalim.

"Tuloy ang bida sa isipan ko'y ikaw..."

May nakapag-sabi sa akin na may nagmamay-ari na raw sa puso mo. Pinilit kong hindi magpa-apekto, pero kahit ako ay hindi handa sa naramramdaman ko. Pakiramdam ko'y nalulunod ako, nagpupumiglas para lang makahinga. Sa paulit-ulit na pagpapaalam ko sa'yo - ngayon ko lang nalaman na wala pala akong sineryoso ni isa. Sabi nila, kapag mahal mo talaga ang isang tao, dapat kang magparaya kahit na ang kapalit ay ang magpa-alam. Sa pagtila ng ambon, sa pagka-ubos ng yosi ko, sa paghayo ng ihip ng hangin, naitanong ko sa kawalan ng kadiliman - saan? Saan ako magsisimulang magpa-alam sa'yo? Pakiusap, puwede bang sabihin mo sa akin?

"Sa umaga't sa gabi sa... bawat minutong lumilipas..."

"Hinahanap-hanap... hinahanap-hanap kita..."

---

April 2005

Have you ever felt like you're stuck in purgatory? Stuck in the middle, not knowing whether if you're in or out, a winner or a loser, a professional or a nursing board failure? For months now, that's what I've been feeling. Stuck in this house with nothing to do, dreaming of happy days, flat broke, with dwindling sense of self-importance. Not to mention being single and bitter. While everybody's out there earning money and being what they've studied four years for, I'm stuck here in this shithole.

First the PRC said that, quite adamantly, there will be no retake. Then they scrapped that and said there will be an optional retake. But I'm not gonna retake an exam I already passed, what're you nuts? I thought that was the end of it, but wouldn't you know it? They kicked that optional's ass out of the window and said, "Oops, we guess that there'd be a retake after all! Sorry." We're like stupid dogs being told to roll over and sit and play dead at the same time until you don't know what to do, while they're up there laughing their asses off.

You run life's fucking hurdles and jump over its fucking obstacles; you look ahead, you plan, you dream of success, and hopefully things like this don't happen: things you can't take into calculation, things that you can't control. Just when you're that close to reaching what you've worked your ass off - fate suddenly intervenes and pulls a fast one on you, so you fall on your ass or land on your face and eat dirt.

You know, sometimes... life's one hell of a bitch.

(P.S. I hope they hang those responsible. Shit, I wouldn't mind hanging them myself!)

After almost three years of utter silence, three years of my foolish dreaming of her, three years of my yearning to hear her voice, suddenly ended by a text message that arrived so unexpectedly. I could not tell whether I was happier when I received the news of my passing the board exam or when she congratulated me after; but I am certain I have not since felt such happiness, for so long a time, when I heard her pleasantly familiar voice in the phone a few days later. In the days that followed, we exchanged many more messages and I, like someone finding again a possession that was once lost, vowed never to lose Stella's friendship again and guarded it with utmost care. That we were friends again, I told myself, is the greatest gift for a birthday that came unnoticed and passed uncelebrated.

But, as weeks sullenly went by, she withdrew gradually to that dark hole of her's, and at many times ignored to return my texts, or to convey that she is presently preoccupied with other things, or anything that initiated her abrupt ostensible cut, that I could not help but think that I somehow managed to put an unintentional spark to her violently volatile temper. She would casually reply, mostly never, to assure me that she is not angry and would leave it at that and would again return to her silence. I try to understand that she is perhaps indeed busy and I, in turn, would not text her for days - but to me, her merciless silence is an agonizing torture to my fragile mind and much more fragile heart, so much so that I become too attach to that abominable contraption and begin to develop obsessive-compulsive behaviors and a rather profound paranoia.

It was not until recently, with an incidence too delicate for me to presently write, and one that I could not stop thinking about, did I realize that perhaps Stella is not the Stella that I once knew or loved all those years. People change, as they say, is true enough; and for three years, I doubt that Stella have not since, in any manner, changed. But that she has become coldhearted, treacherous, and devilishly opportunistic, like a preying octopus, so much like her present friend (whom I have personally known to be a vile and vicious witch) - has left me disenchanted, dejected, half-angry and half-confused. I have often hope that I am wrong about her and that all I hear of her are untrue, that she is still that gentle person I used to know - for I am certain that little has changed in what I feel for her.

But that too has its limits.

La Vita Nouva

In that book which is
My memory
On the first page
That is the chapter when
I first met you
Appear the words
Here begins a new life.

~Dante Alighieri

After the discussion between PRC and concerned parties over the matter of the leakage on August 15, with the PRC has acquiesced on a voluntary retake of the board examination, and I, perceiving that it was the end of the matter, henceforth went to back Cebu to apply for my registration. I went to see a friend, whom I have not seen for almost a year, after I have arrrived in Cebu, who was rather disappointed at my leaving the very afternoon since I only planned on staying in Cebu for a day. She decided in haste, and without much of my saying in it, that we are to roam around the city and spend much needed time together the rest of the afternoon along with our other college classmates, laughing excitedly all the time.

After joggling my schedule for the day, I left my friend with a promise to come back, and went to the PRC regional office. It was surprising, upon my arrival there, when the guard asked me what was my business there and I told him and he told me that I should have brought with me a uniform. What the hell for, I asked. And he said there was an oathtaking to be held there that day. I, having read the letter from the website and having the knowledge that the oathtaking should take place on August 22, and without a uniform, stood there scratching my head, staring bewildered at the hundreds of nurses with their immaculate white uniforms on standing in line looking all too giddy. How could I have known? I only arrived form Mindanao the very day!

The process of applying for my registration did not take long and I, deciding it was rather too early, went back to my friend's flat, and finding that the rest of my college classmates there already, disclosed my predicament. They, upon hearing this, turned to their cellphones and started asking friends of theirs for a uniform and a pair of white shoes I could borrow. But, with lunch approaching, and their efforts having no promising results, I decided to go out and buy a ticket back to Butuan. There was much argument in this that they asked me to stay for another day so that I can take the oathtaking. But with my finances being severely limited, I refused, despite their proposals to feed me and give me shelter for two more days (I simply could not).

My decision was final, I was to leave early that night, and so we went out together and visited places I have not the chance to visit during my previous stay in Cebu. Our classmate, who served as our trusted tourguide, dragged us into old churches, historic forts, took pictures with korean tourists (who seemed to be swarming this time of year), a monkey statue, a blind guitarist singing 'pretty woman', and stared and fingered and made silly fun of historical relics. After three hours of such, my friends were exhausted, and I could not wait to go home. I bid my farewell to them, after a light snack, with promises to drop by if I shall ever return, grabbed my bag headed for the ports. I was never really good at goodbyes. I decided to purchase a CD instead for Stella, having failed to find what she asked me to procure, which almost caused me to miss my boat.

Having boarded in the nick of time, lying comfortably on a mattress, with beddings this time, and even with the cool breath of the airconditioner of the 'tourist class' rather than the humid blast of the ocean wind mixed with the smell of grease and fuel down below, I could not help but think of my having missed the oathtaking. Hmm... what of that?

With very much everyone of my friends and colleagues, the whole town, the whole world perhaps, knowing that I passed the Board examination; and congratulating myself on conquering a hurdle and presently planning for the future with great eagerness and hopeful enthusiasm, now that I am to attach an RN to my appellation - catching a word of a dreadful news, like the possibility of PRC nullifying the examination and requiring all those poor souls who took it to take it again, is most disheartening.

The news has been circling above the heads of June 2006 Board passers, ever since the results were announced, like a loathsome vulture, waiting patiently to dive down and mutilate dreams into unrecognizable pieces.

I have been worried at the prospect of taking the examination again, not with the possibility of my failing it (although there is a possibility) but with the likelihood of it needlessly draining our pockets, as with the sentiments of the many others. I would take it again if I have to, and pass it again if I have to, to satisfy the doubtful minds of those who believe (almost the entirety of the health sector) that ALL of us who took the examination cheated. Well, that is a choice that I hope I should not have to make for I am sure they will not shoulder the consequent expenses.

--

It was reported earlier this evening on the local news, much to my relief (and my parents as well, I'm sure) that the PRC is NOT considering a retake. Ha! Then, tonight, I can sleep soundly.

Alas, those who have passed honestly during the June 2006 examinations, but are eventually stained by the dishonesty of others, are shunned from the prospect of employment by some health institutions, as if we all had a hand in, or even knowledge of, the deviltry that was taking place at the time.

A sad thing... and most unjust.

Early this afternoon, I recieved a most peculiar text message coming from a friend's cellphone. Although it was unmistakably her number and it was unmistakably her name - I find it rather curious as to why she would congratulate me as if she had not done it in a number of times already, and to refer to me, quite peculiarly, as 'kid'. I have only one name yet my friends call me by one of many sorts, and 'kid', I'm certain, is not one of them. I know only one person who calls me, and one which I have not heard in a very long while, among other such nicknames she (for this person is a she) is fond of calling me, kid. And so realizing this, my heart gave one of its familiar leaps and I gave one of my familiar gasps, that I could not help but ask myself: could it be?

Could it be you, Stella?

I immediately began thumbing in a reply, despite the almost uncontrollable tremors of my hand, to inquire to my friend who it was that used her cellphont to congratulate me but was too timid to leave a name. After an hour of waiting, and with much suspense, replied a familiar pair of letters, initials apparently, I should guess, in her attempt to heighten the suspense. It was rather unnecessary on her part, for I know fully well to whom the initials belong to. I asked my friend to kindly extend my thanks to Stella for her somewhat unexpected message, but greatly appreciated all the same. It was a little short, and a little late, and I was a little disappointed at why she chose not to text me with her own cellphone, for I know she has one, but it was the thought indeed that truly counts.

I have not heard anything from her or seen her for almost a year. Yet, through all those times, she existed in my heart and in my thoughts and in my dreams, that to me she is never really gone - but has taken to me an almost mythical state, almost like a ghost, a goddess. But with my seeing her, upon my passing by the hospital where she volunteers a few days ago, standing outside the ER in her immaculate uniform, conversing into her cellphone (with a preoccupied countenance that she, though staring directly at me, did not see me), and now receiving a message from her - makes her much more... real. Tangible. Touchable. Not like a photograph to amuse me with a blank smile. Not like an angel-faced succubus to visit me in my dreams and depart when I wake. Not merely a memory to remind me of the moments blurred by time.

A part of me wants to believe that there is something in her short message, that behind every words there peers that spectre of an emotion she once felt for me, even in the slightest, but I know there are none. It has been too long a time and so much has transpired. I am the only one who is unwilling to let it go, my weakness; but not her, she is stronger than me. Perhaps the message, by its warm tone, is her hand extended towards me in offering of a friendship, of forgiveness (something that I have asked of her since but was unable, at the time, to bestow), far from the harsh, heated words with which we chose to say our farewells, and for that - I am glad. Yet, there is more to it than that... somehow. I cannot wholly explain it.

But for now, it is enough.

I'll tell you, what real love is. It is blind devotion, unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter - as I did!

~Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

During a chat with a female friend a few days ago, she had so abruptly mentioned and without my asking, upon coming to the subject of my apparent singlehood, a surprising news about Stella, my beloved ex-girlfriend. Since I last saw her, my beloved ex, I have not dared inquire about her or of any circumstances of her life for I have since pledged to myself with a resolve to forget her. Furthermore, she was with a dear 'someone' then, whom I thought she would be happy to be with, which provided me the ultimate reason to stay away. And so, I am surprised to hear that she is presently single, and has been for quite a long time now without any inclination to be in a relationship, as my friend had informed me.

The mention of her and her present life, although it should be of no concern to me, not anymore, has left me thinking about her since. Well, I should rather say that I have never succeeded in forgetting her, and have always thought about her, and dreamed of her, and prayed for her, and missed her terribly. It has been three years, and it is a wonder to me how it became that long a time, yet I still feel a treacherous stab of pain through my chest at the mere mention of her name, at the sight of her across the street, at the hearing of her voice, or her laughter. I have cursed myself, many many times before, at why I continue to so terribly punish myself with her memory; still I try to push myself, harder and harder, but always with a failure, in putting her out of my mind and out of my heart and move on.

Our last conversation, in text messages, consisted of my eternal apologies and her still fiery hatred of me, my farewell and her silence, my consequent death and her triumph. No amount of alcohol then could anesthesize me from the severe pain of my losing her, it was as if I was a child, trying to understand the concept of death for the first time with great difficulty. Yet, I had to stay away for her heart no longer belongs to me, for she has gladly given it to someone else, but she never made it a point to return mine. I have bid my farewell, as many times as I could count, hoping that inside I really meant it - and now I realize that I never believed in any of it at all - for, like a returning phantom, she haunts me now.

Why do these feelings, these memories, persevere despite my best efforts to shun them? despite time? despite her hatred of me? Do I really love her? or am I merely in love with the idea of her and I? Could it be just remorse? guilt for what I did and what I didn't do? for what I said and didn't say? Her heart is now free - and what of it? Should I intrude into her life once more, to revive a love that has long since been dead? to awaken her bitter disdain of me that has been sleeping? to dive back into the quicksand from whence I have been trying all these years to extricate myself? And for what's sake? I love her, I think I do still, as I have never loved anyone before-

But could that, singly, be reason enough?

In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed -
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream - that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro' storm and night,
So trembled from afar -
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth's day-star?

~Edgar Allan Poe, A Dream

It was my natal day, I thought you should know, yesterday - a day that, like a breeze during a summer afternoon too swift to be relished, went by barely noticed and uncelebrated except for the appearance of a glorified ice cream gallon on the account of my passing the board examination and becoming a genuine nurse (a great birthday gift, indeed it was). I have grown up unaccustomed to having nor knowing a birthday party and, as years passed, developed a certain dislike for them altogether that I request it myself, even there was no need to, never ever to be surprised with one. A kind kiss, a warm hug, or a simple tap on the back, should suffice. What of all those confounded balloons and useless gifts and needless merry-making? of singing and excessive alcohol consumption? of pandaemonium of hungry people and relatives who are only there obviously for the food? As if there was an important scientific discovery or a death of a dictator that deserved such fabulous frippery. I would rather spend my date of birth in isolation and celebrate its importance in a peaceful afternoon and contemplate the melodies of a guitar. Birthday party, indeed. What nonsense!

Having had a word, at long last, that the examination results were out yesterday, I wasted no time in determining whether the word was true. And, after sifting through the usual heap of internet junk, found that it was indeed out. I found a .pdf copy of the results in a blog site, one of the sites I have been eyeing on to provide me with such information, strangely though beneath an article that announces that 'the PRC has confirmed a leakage' (the article now writes that the PRC has determined the two board members as the source of the leakage; what's happening to this country?).

Although I know how slightly indifferent I was, or pretended that I was, to the possibility of my name not being listed, the thought of it then at that precise moment was most dreadful, so much so that my heart unconsciously, and so suddenly, decided to somersault and steal my breath for a moment, rendering me dizzy while I gaze at my name in shock and disbelief. But I could not be mistaken, it was my name, unless there's another person who posseses the same. I passed? was the first thought which came to my mind. They let me pass?

I have done it. I passed!

Reality soon dawned on me and I was able to swallow the immensity of it all. It was not a moment of extreme exhilaration or excitement, but rather of tremendous relief. But I was smiling, incredulously, to myself and repeating the words 'I passed' over and over as if telling a story to an audience that needed convincing for, I think, unconsciously I was expecting failure. I looked for the others', but I found that I was the only one who passed from our school. Only I consisted the 5% passing percentage out of the nineteen others, from the same school, who took the exam.

For a moment, I was confused. Why me alone? was the question. Why not the others also? who studied as fervently, maybe even more, as I; who so eagerly wanted, even needed, the victory as I; and who took the examination with as much preparation as I. In my moment of joy, of words of congratulations and praises from my family and colleages, I cannot help but think of those whom I shared the months of review and days of examinations with. They would better understand, more than anyone, the meaning of this moment because they were there along with me, as constant companions, during the struggle.

How can one have the heart to celebrate a victory, and be truly joyous, when friends are suffering in defeat?

I have not expected my waiting to be this long. I have promised myself to never venture outside the house or see any of my college friends (for some ridiculous reason, now vague to me) until I have received word that I have passed and consequently, by virtue, certifying me as a registered nurse. I have not seen the city or downtown Butuan in four weeks since I've arrived from Cebu city; however, seeing that the results are apparently not in anyway inclined in being hasty to disclose itself - I decided to break that self-imposed imprisonment.

I could not write, for the past days and weeks, owing to the occasion of severe absence of something to write about. The monotony of daily life, and the boredom of waiting for nothing, has become intolerable. With this, I can do little. I cannot, considering that I have yet to secure a license, apply for a profession (or any job, since I've endeavoured to concentrate on passing subsequent exams) - and so I am trapped at our increasingly claustrophobic home, obliged to do mundane chores and tending the store while exercising all restraint to tolerate the occasional irritatingly dense, often rude, customers.

My brother has urged me to devote some of my overwhelmingly free time, like him, to some physical exertion in the hopes of breaking the insufferable cycle of inactivity and to put some mass to my otherwise slightly emaciated frame. It is an advice I gladly took, remembering the time when I was once in much better physical state. Although suffering from soreness in every muscle and joint since the previous week, it has worked wonderfully and now I'm in much livelier spirits.

Which is less than what I can say regarding the detested delay of the results.

Oh, fucking when?

A month now have passed, officially, since the day I, along with fourty thousand others, took part in the board examinations; yet, there is not a sign that the results of the aforementioned examinations will be released in the nearest foreseeable future, if ever it shall be released at all. A delay, if I have ever seen one, that is filling me, and the entirety of the examinees, with confusion and, unavoidably, with utmost vexation. I cannot deny that, expecting to be informed with the results within ten days or so, and being forced to wait for another ten days and another above that, stretched my patience to its breaking point so much that I could ravagely bite off a considerable piece of anyone's neck responsible for the delay and would not lose a sleep over it. Such is the extent of my frustration, and I would bet that I'm not the only one.

Being kept in the dark, half-anxious and half-baffled, by the utter silence of PRC about the said information is not helping the outrage of emotions across the entire country; however, I have resolved myself to be patient for a little longer - considering that this is a time unlike any other, for I am unaware of any incidence like this ever existed before. The said incident is the 'leakage' issue, involving a certain review center, that, even with simple deduction of a dimwit, is the sole cause for much of the accursed delay. Surprised and angered as I might over this abomination, if indeed it ever occured, interesting as it may be to find out, the who and how is not of my concern, at least not anymore. I have read and heard enough babble about it, and have been left sickened and disgusted by it, that I want no more than to see an end to the whole fiasco and be provided with the information I'm truly only concerned with - whether if I indeed passed or failed.

One must understand the importance of my knowing the outcome of the examination, as much to the thousands who participated in it, for it would determine what I must do and what is to become of me for the next six months, it is the culmination of four years of collegiate struggle, a defining moment for any nursing graduate, a rite of passage to practice as a nurse (and be paid as a nurse, of course). For now, I dare not think that I have failed in attaining my vocation, although some lingering thought of it is vaguely present somewhere at the back of my head. It is amazing to me that, though I would rather prefer to pass, I do not dread the prospect of failing as much as anyone faced with the possibility should. The matter is complicated (yet so trivial); even I can't comprehend it entirely. Perhaps it is some perverse wanting to experience defeat - to know the true sense of success. Perhaps.

Still, I need to know - and so I wait.

What else can I do?

Demain, dès l'aube, à l'heure où blanchit la campagne,
Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m'attends.
J'irai par la forêt, j'irai par la montagne.
Je ne puis demeurer loin de toi plus longtemps.

Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées,
Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit,
Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées,
Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit.

Je ne regarderai ni l'or du soir qui tombe,
Ni les voiles au loin descendant vers Harfleur,
Et quand j'arriverai, je mettrai sur ta tombe
Un bouquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur.

~Victor Hugo

In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed-
But a waking dream of life and light
Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream - that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro' storm and night,
So trembled from afar -
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth's day-star?

~Edgar Allan Poe, A Dream

I haven't had the mind to write anything since I've arrived in Butuan. It's the unusual affliction I contract whenever I am home - the desire to do and think about nothing. At least, for the time being. I needed the rest. However, it is Sunday, I have stopped by this poorly-ventilated internet café from church in the hopes of stirring my somewhat sluggish mind into writing something because - well, I've had enough television for four days. I'm not stressed nor worried about anything. It's as if all my diffculties have vanished, life had suddenly calmed down after a tempestous period of wearisome review classes, of distressing Board examinations, of desolate boarding house life, and of incessant thoughts about going home. That is all over with now, and I have come home, and I am happy, and I seem to have lost the will to write because simply - there is nothing to write about at the present.

---

I have not the desire to retrospect on what transpired during the days of the examinations (June 11th and 12th), except that it was extremely tedious, considering the fact that my assigned room was in the 8th floor of a damnable building without a lift. But it was, I admit, a good way to shake off the drowsiness one feels after each set of a hundred questions. That proceeded on for two days. On the second and final day, after having done with the last set, the trip from the examination center back to the boarding house was most vexing. It took the jeepney at least an hour and a half, in sweltering afternoon sun and through thick of the worst traffic in Cebu, to reach our destination. It was a tiresome day, as I've said, and I was exhausted from physical and mental exertion when I staggered into my room and unto my bed. But the thought of finally going home gave me an unusual surge of energy that kept the desire to sleep at bay and pushed me to finish packing up my things. After dinner, I collapsed on my bed and didn't wake up until ten in the morning the next day.

---

I wasn't concerned about travelling alone, but it was rather comforting that my friend, who was reviewing for the CGFNS exams, decided to accompany me after realizing the futility of attending review classes without a single instructor. Sitting on top of a bunk bed, I hid my excitement in trying to read a book that I had purchased with the last of my money which was then reduced to mere twenty clinking coins. As the boat convulsed to life and began the voyage, I looked back at Cebu's lights disappearing into the darkness of the night with a sense of, more than anything else, relief. I hid my book away and marveled at the bright yellow sphere low in the evening horizon, partially hidden by sinister dark clouds, casting its reflection on the waves. My mind lingered on the past, about how all this started, and how I struggled through it and, staring at the glorious full moon, what a perfect sight to end it all with.

I remember, although vaguely now, that it was probably a few days after the examination has taken place for I was facing my computer at home, strangely looking for something, browsing through pages and pages on the internet. It was the results, apparently, and I was looking for my name. I heard voices behind me, voices of expectation. My heart was palpatating hard against my chest in anticipation. The last page loaded, and my name wasn't there. I have failed.

I woke up sweating, the beating of my heart was defeaning, my limbs were numb, tingling, that I fear I have lost the ability to move them, and I felt the a profound sense of... dread. It had taken, as a matter of fact, a few moments to convince myself that it was just a dream, that the examination won't take place until three days, and that I was still lying on a rickety bed inside a hellish room in Cebu.

It is not the first time I entertained the thoughts of failing the exam, but it amazed me how a dream about it could elicit such reaction.

Although I find it hard to believe that dreams, as most would believe, like a lame prophecy, have any relationship to future occurences, I couldn't help but ask myself: Could it be a sign of the inevitable fate that awaits me?

Or perhaps just the subconsciousness, as I have always believed dreams to be, spewing forth the buried contents of the mind, my inner fears. Could it be that, behind my supposed impassiveness and seemingly absolute confidence, I do give a shit after all? That I dread of failure most of all? Of course, who wouldn't?

Sigh.

A vague feeling of apprehension now grips me, alleviated only by the comforting thought that, in five days, this will all be over. Or will it? Somehow I feel that these are the last moments I will feel calmness and solitude - in a very long while.

What necessitates a new life?

I ask - for it is what I ardently desire, most of all, but has yet to attain. I came here, in this great city, in prospect of one, and in the beginning was convinced that this is where I want to seek employment and spend few years of my future merely because I have grown tired of my old town and my old life. And I didn't care of the possibility or the inevitability of feeling despondent at times, or of being homesick, or of feeling isolated, for I will have then my freedom, and in that a sense of new life. But, like everything else, wherever I go, whatever I do, I grow tired of it all rather easily.

Or is it merely the presence of inactivity of which I'm currently shackled and chained to?

Or is it I'm inanely prone to discontent?

Yet, my soul seeks change. But change, I think, is something someone of my social order couldn't afford. I had my hair trimmed quite recently, for thirty pesos, because I want to see someone else who looks different staring at me from the mirror, thus also a sense of change. But that's all I can afford. I still wear the same plain white t-shirts, I still own only two pairs of shorts, and an old battered cellphone, and two pairs of worn-out jeans, the same tired eyes stare back at me, and I still look as bland as an unpainted concrete wall. I am like a snake who wishes to shed his skin but cannot.

So I'm stranded with what I always have been.

But is it new clothes, new looks, new things, or new activities that comprises new life? New loves, new passions, new friends, or new surroundings?

Or is it just just being... content?

But what is contentment?

It has been so long a time, my friend, my love.
So long since I've gazed upon your sweet smile,
Your voice haunts me throughout the passing millennia,
But is never forgotten.
How can I?
Your enchanting memory is all I have left;
The sole source of my hope, my joy;
Yet, also, of my remorse and immense sorrow.
But it does not matter now, you are here-
You hold my hand, I feel your warmth,
You whisper my name in your melodious tones,
And you free my heart gripped with sadness;
Forgive me if I should shed a tear,
For I have missed you so.
Alas! the coming morning announces its wretched arrival!
The sun would bathe my eyes with its harsh radiance,
And blind me, and break me from this sweet spell.
Hold me, my love, and save me from my waking;
Redeem me from the bitterness of reality!
I intreat you, with all of my being-

Please, stay.

I have endeavored to spend the remaining days in solemn study, no matter how fruitless it may prove. It is better to be bent on nursing books now than rot my bottom and be baked in the humidity inside that infernal room of ours over some unrelated literature. Besides, it should alleviate my constant thoughts about home and the increasing eagerness about the coming day of my departure.

Five days remain and I feel there is yet so much to be learned. I doubt, however, if any further study is beneficial. It is rather too late. I'm more inclined to rely on my cumulative knowledge now. I have expected to feel slightly apprehensive on the last weeks prior to the examination, but I'm a bit surprised that I'm still somewhat... impassive. I admit though that I have little fear of failing.

Could this be my undoing?

Could it be the antecedent of my forthcoming disappointment?

I have come to realize, or rationalize, that perhaps the real source of my 'unconcern' regarding the examinations is that I just don't give a shit anymore whether I pass or fail, hopeless and dispirited perhaps that I have surrendered completely what has motivated me in the first days of the review, a 'dream' to be on the top ten (gratitude towards my instructor at UC who has propagated such a ridiculous idea in my head). I can laugh at it now. How ambitious I was to even think that!

I have underestimated the difficulty of studying alone, having to contend with boredom and isolation for three months. Could it be that which ultimately wore down my enthusiasm? It has become increasingly difficult to maintain focus and concentration on my studies lately, I drag my brain like a heavy stone across every page, and the tedious process tires me easily. A friend of mine who is studying for the CGFNS also complains from the same, he has only been here for a month.

Listening to music from an old walkman seems to help, sometimes.

I'm uncertain, but I think a part of me wants to fail; so I could have a second chance, to bring my dream back, to regain a lost passion, to start all over again (how I like the phrase). Although, I realize too, that this is selfish, unfair, most of all, to my parents who have financially shouldered my finances since March. How can I suffer them to go through the indignation that their son has failed and that all their efforts were in vain? Can I even bear another 6 months of uncertainty, anticipation, and hellish review? No, failure is unthinkable.

Thoughts and feelings may conflict - but I know what must be done.

I awoke from my sleep, the sun had already set, body glistening with freeflowing sweat, drenching the sheets. Stillness seem to envelop the room, smothering everything. Has the world suddenly died? The fan, the only hope of alleviating the excessive heat, has ceased to function; it has detached itself from the loose socket for some reason.

I sat up, cursed a little, and wiping the beads of perspiration from my forehead, jumped down from my bed to fix the problem.

A noise from a speakerphone not far away, the roar of engine of a passing vehicle, a faint sound of guitar strums from downstairs, the whirring of the resuscitated electric fan, my own respirations breathing in the sultry humidity, the deafening silence screams -

As profound sadness slowly drowns me.

I received a mail containing a simcard from Smart this morning; free, as the letter which came along with it had said (agressive strategies to steal subscribers from Globe, perhaps). Shame, I could do with a new cellphone. A new sim for an old humble Nokia 3210, whose battery life is reduced to 12 hours fully-recharged, whose screen cover fell off, letting beads of moisture to stick to its screen everytime I place it in my pocket, and whose posterior cover seem eager to depart from the rest of its body and expose its innards. Yes, I desperately need to replace it. But that will have to wait, I guess, until I'm employed (next year hopefully).

Well (shrugs), at least that battered gadget still functions properly, and it also goes with my crumpled look anyway.

I don't closely monitor the new models of mobile phones today, but everytime I pass the rows of tech shops each day on my way to the review center, I've noticed that they seem to have affixed every known appliance to the cellphone excepting the refrigerator; hybrids, part camera, part palmtop, part radio, part mp3 player, part television, part cinema, part credit card, part hacking tool, part chick-magnet, among other things. One of my boardmates owns one of those fancy-tech ones, aside from sending texts and making calls, it doubles as a voyeur cam and a porno library.

I still prefer the old-reliable (and infinitely cheaper).

Has anyone ever notice that people who are so attached to their phones seem to have forgotten the pleasures, or the etiquette, of normal conversations? You're engaged in a conversation with a friend and you're in the middle of the sentence and the other's cellphone rings; he grabs it and holds it high between you so you can't see his face, you decide to continue while the other person keeps nodding and uttering blank 'uh-huhs' while he incessantly thumbs the keypad until you're so irritated by the rudeness that you can just grab the beer on the table and smash his head with it. And most of them aren't even aware of their audacious impoliteness. Sadly, it would seem that the tool of communication is in itself hindrance to effective communication.

That, and the dark side of mobile technology.

Or maybe it's just rationalization or reaction formation.

Sour grapes. Hehehe.

I had a chance to converse with classmates from UC this morning, who, despite their smiles and laughter, were apparently dreading the coming of the licensure examimations eight days from now. It was precipitated by the pre-board, which has a reputation of being notoriously difficult that even I had to scratch my head a few times during the painful exam-a-thon, and perhaps the unveiling of the soaring scores of other schools like Cebu University compared to our's, meagerly making the passing sixty percent, that threw the reality of our evident unreadiness squirming on our faces.

And while my nervy colleagues may be developing mild to moderate anxiety, I remain oddly unconcerned with the exam. My anxiety is rooted on the absence of anxiety. I have read that anxiety is related to self-esteem. Self-esteem relates to, in this instance, how the person's appraises his intellectual abilities; that when a person's self-esteem is low, he is prone to developing or will manifest anxiety which, if untreated, will progress to an anxiety disorder. Could it be that I unconsciously (or consciously) percieve my purported accumulated knowledge is enough to pass that damnable examination?

Or could it be just plain hopelessness, manifesting as indifference?

Anxiety, or rather, mild anxiety is not bad. It keeps one on edge, keeps his focus is keen and his senses sharpened; it may even motivate one to keep studying as if there's no tomorrow. I wish I were anxious, even just in the slightest. I need it to break me from this... shroud, this fog, that makes thinking and studying rather impossible, throwing me into a state of near-depression and hypersomnolence. I'm bored, worn out, fed up, dispirited, homesick.

I desire nothing more than to get this examination over with so I can finally go home to my own town, be comfortable in my own house, my own room, sleep in my own bed, fiddle with my own computer, and pursue other books and literature that are, in no manner, connected with nursing.

Ah, why are the days so slow?

It has been three months since the first day I have set foot on this island, the Queen City of the South as the Cebuanos would often boast, to review for the local board examination and have since admitted that I like Cebu, with its several big malls, and numerous CD shops, and comprehensive bookstores, and fancy-dressing chicks, and pristine shores, among other things, better than my little town of Butuan.

Or was it merely exaggerated by the sense of freedom and independence, which I have suffered to live without during what seems like an eternity of imprisonment in Butuan, that the three months promised?

Whatever it was, as the days crept past, the excitement of that first day of being entirely on my own slowly wore out and replaced, little by little, by the feeling of severe longing for that place I have come to hate and love. And while it is true that Butuan may be infinitely inferior to Cebu City (or any other cities, as a matter of fact, that have earned the title city) , however, I couldn't think of any place I would rather be right now.

10 days na lang... uwi na ako!