uncle van’s cabin

When I was born my mother said I was wrapped in a newspaper. The newspaper had news about Ninoy Aquino’s assassination and that he was carried to a van. Ninoy Aquino’s daughter is Kris and yes, I was named after a vehicle and after that talk show host. When I was younger and when people would ask me where I got my name I would omit that part about being wrapped in a newspaper because I was too embarrassed to admit that my parents were too poor to even buy me a lampin. Instead, I would say that my mother was reading a news story about Ninoy’s demise when she started having labor pains. Years later I got them mixed up and now I’m not exactly sure which is the fact. I think I have to ask my mother again.

Well, here’s one fact. She said I didn’t make a sound when I came out and that I was as pale as a radish. She got worried but when the midwife did the SOP of butt-slapping and I gave out a cry she gave a sigh of relief even when I sounded like a shrill train. I’m glad I no longer have that “shrill” quality in my voice but I feel sad that the midwife has already went ahead all of us.

25 years later…

Here I am in my existentialist angst, trying to philosophize everything that comes my way. I’ll soon get rid of it, probably when I turn 26. What exactly have I done in all my 25 years of existence? I’ve loved, I’ve mourned, I’ve laughed, I’ve shared… But life is not measured by emotions, right? Nor is it measured by your wealth, the places you’ve been to, your degrees, your status. They say it’s measured by how many people will remember you when you leave this world.  I’ve always have that strong desire to leave something, to make a mark. I guess that’s why I’m in the teaching profession. It’s the easiest way to leave a mark, I suppose. You won’t be able to memorize your students’ names but they sure can’t forget you — (Ah, Mam Van) I myself can still remember my kindergarten teacher’s name.

I still have my dreams and my bucketful of bucket list. I’d still want to write that book. I’d still want to go backpacking in the wilds. I’d still want to be a rockstar. I’d still want to get rid of my fear of open spaces (maybe I should swim in the Pacific). I won’t mind growing wrinkles. I’d like to see laugh lines on my face. I’d still want to wake up every morning with the person I love.

How, where, what will I be when I’m already 60? 45? 30? 26? I guess life is what you make out of it, you take each day as it is.

Today, I turn 25.

This entry was posted on Sunday, October 26th, 2008 at 5:10 pm and is filed under kiddishness, ramblings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.