Wondering memory.

I am having a Disney nostalgia for the longest time now. I've been singing Kim Possible's Call me, beep me in the shower with so much rapport with the toilet bowl and bathroom tiles for days. I also cannot stop feeling nostalgic about my daily sessions with Hannah Montana, Alex Russo, Raven, Jake Long and the TS girls. (Yes, I'm one of those "dumb" girls who loved Totally Spies. Stop being so judgmental.) And because my mind can take me past the tip of Burj Khalifa for a single thought, a long string of ideas and questions struck me.

A friend made me a birthday video where she mentioned about a favor I did for her during our junior year using. She admitted that she won't remember about it unless for a wall post that she unearthed using archivedbook. I also remember being totally clueless about how I used to talk to someone before until I FB self-stalked my old account. And then there's one about random ideas I never knew I had a stand about until I read a note I saved in one of the hidden folders of my phone. I'd also mention the thousand times I used Twitter or my diary or my random notes written between the pages of my textbooks for trying to remember a detail, perhaps a date or a place, or an event in general that took place at a certain portion of the timeline of my life but that would take us forever.

Nevertheless, there was almost always a source to make us remember. A photo album, a dent in a car, a stain that detergent couldn't remove-- something. I just noticed, too, how these days, it's usually something virtual... something posted in the internet or saved in our phone or laptop in .doc / .pdf / .mp3 / .mp4 extensions.

I know it has been discussed in millions of articles already but it still overwhelms me, still makes me wonder just how we're so dependent on technology. Like, would we even know majority of our friends' birthdays if it weren't for Facebook? Would we be able to compare how we looked like even just two to three years ago if it weren't for jeje photographs? Would we be able to entertain ourselves without saved SMS from 'special someones' but with mere written notes in our heads (just cos it's probably the most relatable thing I could come up)? I know people from the past did very well, but let's talk about the now. Let's consider our dependence to these gadgets and softwares and websites and everything techy that I do not know of. Would we? Would we, really? (Chad Dylan Cooper, everyone. I told you I'm feeling Disney nostalgic.)

And if we would remember fine without technology, would we question our memory's efficiency without handwritten notes, books, paintings, hieroglyphics and drawings on walls? All those records that were made to pass on something to the next generation that is us.

If we wouldn't, what would be left of our memory then? Would it be of the significant events of our lives and those of who are important to us or would it only be of spontaneous memory? Or probably half of both but never one of whole? Would it be more of long-term or short-term memory? Would our memory favor what the mind considers remarkable or what the heart considers special?

And how are we supposed to memorize a poem, constitutions and clerical works? Would we put tunes to every single poems just so we could? Maybe the world would turn to be one musical number then. How would we take exams then? Cos, I mean, that would be 100x the pain to both the examinee and the checker. Would we have school at all? Or development, for that matter! How about all the codes computer engineers use? Or the complicated notes mathematicians & scientists took? Where would they store all these information?

Or maybe, wondering about all of these is pointless because maybe we're too intelligent to completely trust the ability of our memory from the start. That somehow, there would always be someone who'd make sure to take notes & record for future use. Maybe someone who's just as frustrated as I am to be a writer. After all, I'm a notetaker.

"I'm not a photographer but a note-taker.  These are my notes. For example, texture. Notes on limitlessness. And the inevitable. Displacement. And notes on congruence. [...] Notes on locality. And finally, notes on self." Pilar Pedrosa Pilar - Note-taking / Of Quiet Worlds (Behind The Scenes, Zambales, 040112)

Me, myself and thy

Today, I have decide that I want to really write. I want to stop trying to sound deep or profound. You could compliment me all you want in the hopes of making me feel better but I think I have become bland and boring. Besides, you don't have to make me feel better about it. I think it's a good idea that I'm finally getting away from it. Not that I used to be so quirky and fun and great with my words before. It's just that I've read great writers upon great writers that unconsciously began to imitate them. They say you find your writer's voice by imitating other people's writing but it does not work for me. I get lost in that system; I lose myself in that system.

So one and a half hour past my bedtime, I will write as myself. It's not going to be perfect (has never been) and may even be silly but I will carry on. Sometimes, I may need to be brutally honest-- I have stands that are so unpopular and unheard, I won't have enough resources to support them. They will range from the littlest, unnecessary issues like the existence of Twitter quote books to grand gestures, mainstreams, beauty pageants and the diversities of life. Sometimes, I will be a complaining teenager with nonsensical and invalid arguments about school, friends and family. Or maybe even showcase a major fangirling act for all the wonderful people, movies and music the media has introduced me to. I don't guarantee you a profound-free blog, though (hope that doesn't sound arrogant and ~*i have wisdom and all*~ -ish), as pitch black skies and the thought of being the only one awake tend to kick a few sound phrases into my mind and then out of my hands. I cannot be one of those bloggers who write so brief and casual and quirky, they pass for a "Just woke up. Bathroom bound to brush my teeth and then comb my hair. Be lovely, everyone!" tweets. I have nothing against those, don't get me wrong. Some people have no time for life-reflection paragraphs and for posting them up. They like to keep them to themselves.

But as for me, I will be me. I will be personal and always reflecting and thinking and posting. That, I will promise you. Oh no, scratch that... I just remembered I don't do promises. Promise is such a pretty word but it's not mine to use. So, um, just take my word when I say I will be me. Print screen this page (it's easy to press delete, you know) for future black mailing use when I act type against what I just said. Make sure you save a back-up file, too. File corruptions happen way too often these days.

Anyway, tonight, I wanted to share a lot of nonsensical things but I'm human and I get tired and sleepy even against my will. And if you know me, you'd know how it's essential to thou not waste thy exhaustion and drowsy feeling. (Ew, I hate using the word 'feeling' beside an actual feeling.)

FIN

Hello, May.

Photos by Janjan Ho, Joyce Habitan, Francis Villanueva and Kiko Caturla. Post-processing by yours truly except for the first and last photos. More photos after the cut.

April treated me well. It kept me busy and always going with places to go to and people to be with. On the other hand, spare hours make for reading blog posts (that I have gotten behind with for months) and books. I'm afraid I haven't been really resting. I've been having more than 10 hours of sleep everyday but it's not just the same as sleeping and waking  up on time. I stretch myself up to the latest hours of the night before I sleep which I couldn't deny to be unhealthy. My dad couldn't agree more to this. I tire myself before going to bed because hours spent lying on bed, thinking about life and everything else, feels like wasted hours to me-- Like, I could be doing something else, anything else. My body doesn't approve.

I have never met so much people in just a matter of four weeks in my life before. I have always been with the same people at the same places and it was nice to be formally meeting these familiar and new faces, a new set of environment. Not exactly an environment that would replace the old one, just something to attach to the ever-growing background I move around in. An extension of sorts.

Baccalaureate testimony

I have decided that my testimony would look really good on my blog. It's the original copy as I lost the revised one hehe. It would be published on our yearbook in a few months time but I don't think I'm restricted to publish it on my blog so...

Testimony by Mariel Rodriguez, IV – JAMES

Writing this testimony was a struggle, to be honest. How am I supposed to fit 13 years of God working in my life in a single testimony? Words can never be enough so the rest are all understatements.

First off, I can’t imagine who, where and how I’d be if I didn’t go to this school—either for the rest of the aforementioned 13 years or even just for the four years of high school. And to think that God has blessed me and my family enough to supply for the finances I needed to study in this school all throughout amazes me. God has been very faithful to us including and most especially when we were unfaithful to Him and I can’t thank Him enough for that.

There were also times when school works with coherent deadlines spelled like torture in my mind that I have heard myself wanting to give up one too many times already. I am an emotional person. I take in almost everything around me which makes me cry so easily… and a lot, too. I hear people calling me weak for it because easy tears meant weakness to them, and I don’t know if it’s true but if it is then 2 Corinthians 12:10 lives up to what it say, that “For when I am weak, then I am strong.” Because during the times when I was so close to giving up, while I was breaking down and when my head was listing infinite to-do lists, He became my strength, refuge, peace of mind and motivation. I love how when I give in and lay it all at His feet, I can boldly say that it is not me anymore who is working but it is entirely Him working in my life—that in my inability, in Him, I am able.

I want to thank all of the teachers that I have encountered for the duration of my stay in AGS who impart lessons outside the borders of books, who became our friends and who teaches us not only for the money but because they really wanted us to learn up to the point that when we ourselves choose to give up, they themselves insist on teaching us just because they care. I cannot believe how you guys do it. To James and the rest of my previous sections, these memories with you will surely be treasured. Thank you for bringing color to my life, for not leaving me alone in my strangeness and for being so patient with my mataray and irritable self. To everyone else who believe in me and my writing, who love me in spite and despite of my flaws, who’s my friend in front of me and at my back, who put their trust in me, who at least once I have ran up to in my spiritual struggle—you hold a special place in my heart. Because I see you guys five times a week, you have all become a constant reminder at one point or more in the past 13 years of how God uses people so mightily for His glory.

It’s so surreal having to leave the place I have become so accustomed to. It’s scary and exciting and sad all at the same time. But because God placed me in a school where my foundation in Christ could grow strong enough for me to face the rest of the world, I am willing to shine for The One who reigns. Because when I do shine, they will no longer see me; they will witness God working through me. I hope they do in all of us.

I hope this makes sense,

Of last days, graduation and college

DISCLAIMER: A little photo-heavy after the cut. You've been warned.

Of last days. I'm too forgetful to scan all the days of the year but I honestly feel like the last days of high school have been the best. Maybe it was a matter of really making the most out of the little time we have left for each other or maybe because we bonded instead of having class discussions. But it was most probably and simply because it was just what it was. It was simply the best-- so full of beautifully cherished lasts, both happy and sad. What makes it all the more beautiful is that I had the privilege to testify in front of my batch mates on how God moved in my 13 years stay in AGS ( I know, wow. I kept saying I've stayed there for 13 years time & time again but it's only now that I have left that school that I am actually realizing that 13 years is 13 long, meaty and more-than-2/3-of-my-life years.) in front of my batch mates during our Baccalaureate service. Because, really, more than everything-- the friends I have made, the memories I am forever to keep, the lessons I have learned-- it was still entirely about Him. Not even about me giving it all back to Him but Him receiving all the glory and praises He truly deserve.