Long time, no write.

16 09 2008

Yes, it’s been awhile. Forgive me; it is a busy time in my life. I made the mistake of enrolling in more post-undergraduate subjects than my current academic load can take, and so I’m trying to tie up the loose ends on that front before anything else. Two more weeks.

I am, shockingly enough (to me at least), considering moving into an apartment of my own sometime near the end of the year. Our head librarian, Ms. Liza, will be moving out, leaving her cozy apartment unit (the school’s Culinary Circle gather there every few Fridays a month to cook, watch dvd’s, etc.) vacant. Don’t ask me where it came from – the idea just popped into my head as soon as she mentioned she was moving.

I’ve done some counting, and I must admit that the whole expedition seems definitely feasible. Sure, it will mean less visits to BoNa Coffee and I won’t be able to watch movies as often as I can do so now (nothing good at the moment), but it will mean a place of my own! Can you imagine that?! Can I imagine that?! I thought I was going to be stuck in boarding houses forever!

To be sure, this is still tentative, but I get excited just thinking about it; It seems to be such – (and I say this with a self-effacing chuckle) – such a manly thing to do: go out and get your own place; stake out your claim and carve out a living for yourself with the sweat of thy brow and the strength of thy back; beat back hordes of assorted vermin, keep your belongings in order, and keep the floor and shelves dust-free; scrub the bathroom floor until it is so clean one could eat off it…then go hunt down something small and furry to actually eat.

Okay, so maybe that got a little over the top, but you get the idea ūüôā

The other day I went to the Manila International Bookfair with a few other teachers and made our rounds of the booths. I picked-up a rather pricey copy of Wholfhart’s 30 studies for Violin and a book of scale studies by some other Hungarian fellow who’s name escapes me at the moment (Hrimaly or something – no, that’s not a mistype).

I also bumped into Butch, a friend from college long-ago, who supplied me with updates about the various people who have been in my life since my days at the University of the Philippines. Unfortunately,¬†I was better-off not hearing some of the updates (not your fault, Butch) – and if you are reading this, then you know what I’m talking about – so¬†there I was, being led by depression throughout the rest of the¬†evening. It’s nobody’s fault, really, but¬†I would be lying if I said I didn’t care.

This led to a tough night, made bearable only by¬†a fervent prayer and the onset of deep sleep – but even the morning seemed tainted…until my first class.

Lydia (not her real name) is an adorable little girl.¬†She’s has sharp ears, good motor skills, and can comprehend even complex instructions. She’s made huge strides in her violin playing over the past year. The thing is, she doesn’t talk…to me at least. She nods or shakes her head when I ask her questions and will give me a shy smile when she gets something right, but other than that, nada.

Today was no different. We went through¬†one of the pieces she was studying, just like any other day, when all of a sudden,¬†the expression on her face (shy, somewhat neutral)¬†changed (tired, somewhat bored). I thought she was tired, so I let her sit and recuperate. To my surprise, she started to cry. Now this hasn’t happened in awhile, so naturally, I’m¬†perturbed. I offered to take her violin and bow and¬†put them away before we sort things out. A moment later, she regurgitated her breakfast all over her skirt and my classroom floor (it was chocolate rice pudding – otherwise known as champorado).

We’re talking total regurgitation here. No water and cellulose – whatever she took in that¬†morning now lay all over my floor in pristine condition; if she had vomited into a bowl, you wouldn’t have known it had previously been in her stomach.

“Shocked” fails to capture the¬†terror of the moment – I was horrified! It was like a scene from The Exorcist – I half-imagined the regurgitated matter (it sounds less-disgusting this way) to be green.

I helped the poor girl wash-up, got her uniform cleaned out, gave her some water to drink, and led her to the clinic. Then I went off to the cafeteria and quickly downed two pieces of smoked fish, a cup of rice, a plate of spaghetti (yes, they serve spaghetti for breakfast) and two coffees…depression gone.

Bet they don’t have that in the corporate world. I love my job!




2 responses

16 09 2008

Bless your heart!!! True true, there’s none like so in the corporate world. And the antidote to depression is really helping another person in distress. It makes our little cares fly out of the windows.

I hope Ram gets well.

17 09 2008

i agree with MOMI. nice post by the way. ūüėČ

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