MOVED

After 137 posts, and some drafts left unposted,

I have decided to join the bandwagon.

MOVED.

Halfway through and retracting

Second year is coming to a close, and because of too much hard work built upon feeble ground, I will be exerting more strenuous effort just to dig out my buried hard work for next year to be successful. Burning out is never an issue for me, knowing that pushing my body to its limits garners no harmful side effects; but beyond that, you'll see me walking like a french fry wasted in the open for an entire day.

About my Banaue trip, did I say twenty-thousand words? I meant two hundred and sixty-one. Due to molecular microbiology and the 50 series, I can only recount a few (or at least put down):

Going back uphill with a 5-kilo backpack and only half a liter of plastic-reeking water will only render you tired, and thus you will have to rest more often than going down with the same load, taking gravity into the picture. It just so happened that at five hundred soul-slicing footsteps near our goal we had to rest. To our side was the wooden shed with benches and a table. A handful of local tribesmen were listening to the radio while eating nga-nga, as if waiting for something. Our co-tirees were frazzled, sprawled against the seemingly softest wooden seats, when suddenly a raging local attacked one of the handful at the rest station with an itak, or whatever that sharp blade was called. We were all pulsating dramatically fast, and in an instant, blood spurted out the cut of the poor guy's left arm. The end of the blade even got cut, swirled upward, and thank God it landed on the ground and not on somebody else's face. Afraid and weary, we just wanted to get to our goal as fast as we could. Right back up, Joseph, Joy and I discussed what just happened, and we concluded it could only have been due to either porter fight or love life. We are more inclined to believe it's love life because the attacker looked really pissed off.

Nothing much happened on the way to the bus station, except we top-loaded on a jeepney (Joy, pray that your family won't read this) and sang songs non-stop with our newfound friends (NFF's).

Watch out

For an upcoming entry on my Banaue trip. Were it not for my weary wrists, mosquito-bitten feet, aching calves and lactic acid-filled kneecaps, my lab report on selective and differential media, my Geography critique paper, my General Plan of Action, and my Chem problem set, I would've exhorted myself to endure a twenty thousand-word account of my adventures.

Spoiler: I saw a tribesman commit an attempted murder just about three feet away from where I was paralyzed out of shock.

Chess and Idol

It's been such a blessing to meet and shake hands with the chess super grandmaster Mark Paragua last Wednesday.

When I first heard his name, I was scratching my head for any tidbit of him stored in one of my lobes, but alas, I had none. So I was not even a quarter amazed by his presence. What I heard though was that he is godlike in the world of chess, along the ranks of Eugene Torre (he's the only grandmaster I know thanks to Hekasi 4).

Tables were arranged adjacent to each other and suddenly twenty students, including I, were playing with him simultaneously. It was like one of those quick dating games, wherein ladies are seated and guys rotate from one lady to another for some matchmakings. He was moving from player to player, one move per table. Then next! One move. Next!

Initially I was only hoping I would last ten moves because I'd learned he was too great. In the terms of the RPG world, there was imba, and I was to be pwned. But when our professor told us that he'd give bonus points to anyone who reaches thirty moves, I aimed that. And not too quickly enough I'd reached the thirty, there was equality between our non-pawn pieces the entire time. Soon enough, I was the only one playing with him that came from the PE amateur class; I was playing together with the varsity players, which means that our game lasted too long a time that I'd garnered more than forty moves. In the end, I did fifty-four moves, he fifty-five. I had the most bonus points and couldn't believe it. The entire game we had the same condition in terms of the non-pawn pieces, with him leading by only a pawn. If you're wondering how I survived that long, it would be because he and I were left with only pawns and a king during the endgame. I was amazed with myself, to be honest, because he was super grandmaster, and I ate all his pieces, even the queen (haha! after he ate mine).

He deserves praise with the one-move per player rounds, and Eppendorf! He moved from player to player for more than three hours (my game lasted that long). After our game, we shook hands and I asked for his autograph, which he gladly gave. From now on, I shall frame our game! The entire game was recorded in a yellow sheet and he autographed it!

Speaking of autographs, Paul Yap didn't sign my Bipolar CD, he only signed the package, grrr! For more autographs, I want Megan Joy Corkrey's. Please vote for her. Thank you very much.

*
I reflected on Ezekiel 6. I thank God for reminding me that He hates sin so much that sinners may die so ruthlessly: In the book, those who worship idols will be slain in front of their idols and their bones will be scattered around their worship altars.

Numbers

11:47 post meridiem
120, 81, and 109 pages read for three books
150 unread feeds
546 images captured by my phone
49995 needed
40 per cent accomplished
21 continuous hours spent awake
1 notebook needed
35 teeth unwashed
36 white keys left dusty
25 black keys left untouched
10:13 of first Corinthians
4 days of restless rest
3 albums a week

Starstruck

Unplanned and spontaneous, my going to the UP Fair yesterday (Feb. 14) was worth the 75 pesos. If I hadn't met Joreb while waiting for Joseph to get his ride, if Joseph hadn't known that he'd be picked up at the Physics pavilion, if I hadn't thought of getting to the CASAA shed, if I had overtaken the girl who also waited for the Philcoa jeepney, if I hadn't spotted a fat guy grumbling across the street and if I hadn't talked to him and agreed to go to the fair, I wouldn't have seen Polyap!!!

I didn't know Up Dharma Down was going to perform, and so I planned to boringly rub my eyes until Joreb and his friend Aaron got tired of watching the boring bands. Luckily, I got thirsty. And good thing I didn't choose the Fab drink! I went to the Rodic's stall to purchase water and poof! Paul Yap was there! If I didn't already have his autograph, I would've asked for it! Next time I meet him and the rest of the Up Dharma Down gang, I'd be bringing a camera, I swear!

I gained 7 pounds

7 pounds is the only predictable movie that I've ever liked. You take it as it is, although the plot is quite confusing at times. I admit it: At first I didn't know if it was a flashback or not, or what, but towards the latter half I perfectly nailed my predictions. And although I'd predicted most of what was gonna happen towards the end--partly due to the first scene--I almost burst out into tears, but too bad I was seated with my dad and my cousins, who I guess was too shy too, that I could not even dare. :))

I don't need a doctor to tell me that there's something wrong with me

There are a lot of things I want to blog about: all the sleepless nights and the longest 6-hour sleep God has allowed me to savor, the radicals introduced into my laptop by Seal and Oasis and the rest of the 30 gigs of pure unadulterated rips that put my computer into a coma (in the words of the microbiologist: in its stationary phase), the MBB 110 exam and the spot-the-difference bonus it had, "Changeling" and "Slumdog Millionaire," the soon-to-be-mine laser color printer, the soon-to-be-mine-in-my-dreams Sony VAIO I've been salivating for ever since my visit (and revisits) to Cyberzone, the 320-gig external hard drive (or the 1-terabyte Time Capsule I've been wanting for almost a year now), and my inexplicable fascination for clocks.

I can't believe it's almost 9--just 4 more hours and I'll have been awake for 24 hours (again!). These days, getting 3 hours of sleep is sufficient to keep me up the next day. Six hours to me is heaven! The MBB lab exam was not what I expected, though. I dehydrated my tear ducts for this and what do I get? FUN! :) It must have been because I expected it to be too brutally hard like the lec exam that I think 90% of the class guessed entirely (not rhizoid, not serrated). Good thing my guessing skills were at a hype. Who would have thought that the primers used for vector cloning and sequencing were primers from the VECTOR?!!! HAHAHA! I am so unworthy! Thank you dear pen for spontaneously composing that well thought-of 10%!!! Well anyway, I hope God won't test my pride again this time by giving me false hopes that lead to disastrously LOW results.
*
Seal and Danny Gokey have repetitively subwoofed my room. American Idol is the only show I get to watch, amid the sleep-deprivation crisis I'm facing right now. I'll try to make a prediction. These are my favorites, and I'm sure one of them will win it this time: Danny Gokey, Adam Lambert, Megan Corkrey, Frankie Jordan (which I think is already eliminated), and Jamar Roger.
*
If ever I give up on molecular biology, I now have my contingency: I'll try to run a website similar to RottenTomatoes because lately, I've been able to watch awesome films, such as "Changeling" and "Slumdog Millionaire." I highly recommend both.
*
Can somebody help me out with financial management? 'Cause I can't manage my finances! :)) I want a lot of things, and when somebody wants a lot of things, he has to have effective control over his finances. Plus, I seem to have--imaginably speaking--"LOST" something which I never even got to keep. Next time, I won't handle with other people's money anymore, impeach me now! I know you're not to blame, but I am not either.
*
I love clocks! I want to start collecting clocks! Clocks fascinate me! Somebody give me clocks, not the cheapo ones but the non-cheapo ones! So I can start timing my sleep.
*
Please tell Doctor Brigadour to remove me from his files as I won't be needing of his assistance anymore. Thank you very much!

Sta. Lucia East Mall

The last time I went there was when I was about 8.

My only memory of it was the humongous "Worlds of Fun" that served as a mini-theme park inside the mall. Uniformed teenagers flock the queues, moms chase children, dads sit around, and a pigeonhole receives tens of pesos for yellow tickets.

The reason we went to Sta. Lucia East Mall, even though it was planets away, was because it had the only cinema in the Philippines that was screening "Changeling" last Saturday. We had planned of watching it in Gateway but lo and behold, the Thursday flick-change disallowed us to actually watch it in convenience.

But driving to Sta. Lucia East Mall--Lenny did the driving, we did the nothing--was not a bit regretting or reprehending because the movie was worth sitting the two-point-three-three-three-three-three hours.

The plot was brilliant, and even more awesome because the events were based on a true story. Interspersed were themes on LAPD dominion, crime and corruption, female weaknesses and abuse of such, mother-child relationships, single parenting, seeking justice, etc.

It allows you to think and feel, two of the major criteria for my movie favorites.

"Changeling" is by Clint Eastwood and it stars Angelina Jolie. Please watch it!! Rip it from online and I bet you won't regret two-point-three-three-three-three hours of it. It's no crapola.

Resolution

I know it's too late for a resolution. But this one's too good to be missed out.

Dare me to do anything, and I'd say yes. Nah, just kidding. But I did get to watch "Yes Man!" My mom hates Jim Carrey so much that she'd hate him even more when she gets to watch this film. I, on the other hand, am content my dad and I got to have a few laughs.

Back to my resolution. Ahh! Wait, I just realized tomorrow's going to be Chinese New Year, and so I guess it really isn't too late for a resolution (I know we can make resolutions anytime but I like to do it contemporary, and that's what our new year culture gives).

I won't beat around the bush any longer, and I'll end with this:

I'll try to help everyone I know--and some who I don't--as much as I can with their own pesky, little predicaments.

The world is fickle. The mind is fickle. The people fickle. But God isn't.

Double helix

Lives intertwine like a fractal from up above
Flowing and climbing and expanding and deepening
Coming and going and coming and going
The Lord has giveth and the Lord has taketh away
And then through the serendipity of deja vu
The Lord has giveth what He has taketh away
Or what I might have throweth away

Conspiring against delusional Pribnow boxes
Evading the easy deamination of cytosine to uracil
Like the methylation of thymine
The helix constituents meet and repel
A magnet of its own dilemma--
Or delirium or insanity like a mutagenic influx

Attracting and repelling in a cycle of eternal
Or never-ending replication, forced or unforced
The fallacies of life, enjoyed and unenjoyed

Forever shortening, shortening, shortening
Preserving the important fragments
In an auto-splicing delinquency
Of realities unfolding beyond the imaginations of children
Toying around like bees around their hive

In forever steadfast stone

Written within us all
Not in our blood
But with our codes

We are mere codes, fulfilling and dreaming and tearing apart
Nucleases ripping us in diamond fashion
To our own little perfections

You will never wish for snow ever again

I cannot imagine why I only heard of this until now. Now, when I complain of having to deal with sleepless nights memorizing the polygonal structures of nucleic acids--where the nitrogens are located or how they are numbered in the different purines and pyrimidines--or why I am encumbered in doing all the stuff that the younger I was fond of or who Lawrence of Arabia is and what he has to do with microbes in a crossword puzzle. I have witnessed sufferings of losing a loved one, of enduring three hours of worthless clips reeling in front of me so my money would not be wasted, of children reeking with sewage smell touching the hands--but unfortunately, not the lives--of passersby. I might have felt the excruciating disappointment of a boy discombobulated by a test that would determine his grade. I might have inherited the curse of my dad reading and reading and reading and preparing only to find out he is a percent away from being a lawyer (Yes, my dad took the bar twice!). I remember Job talking back to the Almighty, having the courage and the strength to question the Lord in His intimidating presence, after he was stripped of almost everything. Yet I was shocked to have heard of Elie Wiesel's account of the annihilation of the Jews by the Nazis in Night, and even more shocked that I have learned of this only now--no thanks to school.

I was never interested in history, it, being full of facts: names, dates, places, etc. History can never be fully learned as it's continuing by the littlest fraction of the nanosecond (what's littler than yoctosecond?) at almost everywhere inhabited on earth. But I have to blame all the makers of the curriculum since I was nursery up to now because they hadn't included--or emphasized, if I wasn't listening too well--the Nazis in World History. The first time I must have heard about them was in Sound of Music when it was all about gladness and joy and mirth and singing and favorite things. And now, we've met again. Only this time, the Nazis are more morbid.

Jews living in Sighet were transported to hell-like camps, where morbidity rates were almost a hundred percent. They were forcefully hanged, burned, beaten to death, starved, exhausted. Elie Wiesel, a survivor of such atrocities, narrates: how Jews, even the infants, were lined up to their deaths like they were stacked on a conveyor belt leading to a furnace; how some had to dig up their own graves; how a hungry man stealthily and quickly ran toward a pot of boiling soup as though he were a greedy leprechaun who has seen a pot of gold only to be shot, face flat on the soup. They also abode to "Survival of the Fittest": sons betrayed fathers only to selfishly survive, the healthier ones battered the sicklies for a morsel of bread, the wide-awake train passengers attempted to throw out corpses and even those who were sleeping so they'd have adequate space on board. One lesson that I will never forget is how man, intelligent as he is, improvises: not given any food or water, a guy tried crunching snow so as not to be dehydrated. Several others followed suit. And to think I don't even like cold water.

Let this be a lesson to people who'd love to spend tens of thousands just to throw snowballs. Knowing that deprived people resort to snow for food as though it is manna coming down from heaven, never again will I see snow as something miraculous, as something to be wished for. I'd rather have my brocolli.

Miscalculations

It is my hobby to list lots of tasks to do whenever I get to have school breaks. So when I was packing my bags again for another taste of my lola's pochero (and the smell of the television rotting from Disney and Nick marathons of Avatar, The Fairly Odd Parents, Cory in the House, The Suite Life of Zack and Cody--oddly, I still don't watch Hannah Montana), instead of listing down the clothes that I will be bringing, I took my Sharpie and tried to make a long list of things to do over the break. But when I was rummaging for my Sharpie in my knapsack, I saw that neatly folded white paper with Sharpie writings that I had done before the sem break. So I just added a few more to-reads and to-learns.

I arrived the 21st of December, unexcited and indifferent. Everything went well with what I had in mind until after I have slept and I lazed off the entire morning doing nothing but snoring. I only had 13 days to do all the tasks that I have listed. Two columns of square brackets filled the entire page until no more additional tasks could be filled in.

Only 2 days were given to me to do my first task of getting a license. The Land Transportation Office only gave out licenses from 8/9/? - 4/5 PM so I had to queue up in that 2 days given me because the office wouldn't be reopening till January, when I wouldn't be there anymore.

The first task: FAILED. I scrapped the entire two mornings sleeping. I must have been exhausted since the start of the sem since Mushi spanking or poking me in my sleep wasn't able to wake me up. The first day, I procrastinated. The second day, I was too caught up in Alan Weisman's The World Without Us (or was it Carolyn Abraham's Possessing Genius?--not sure which) that I totally forgot that I had planned to get a license.

The good thing about listing tasks is tracking your progress. Inking an "X" between those square brackets was very fulfilling. So I brought with me an entire library: Alan Weisman, Carolyn Abraham, Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers, Plato's The Republic, Boyer's Biochemistry, Madigan and Martinko's Brock Biology of Microorganisms, and Bauman's Understanding Microbiology. The last two books are both thicker than a ream of bond paper, and a dozen times heavier.

So I did well with the to-reads; I finished Weisman, Abraham and Gladwell. But I never read an entire paragraph from either Microbiology textbook. And I never even unpacked my Boyer. Phew, what a waste of Newtons or ham and cheese croissants or chocolate madeleine's, whichever supplied the ATP's needed for that!

One other task was to finish a jigsaw puzzle. I slept 3 AM for that "Scream" cross Sesame Street jigsaw puzzle only to wake up to a disassembled Ernie and Bert--and the rest of the puzzle pieces too.

I never really got the hang of it. The hang of listing things and religiously ticking off the done one's. Perhaps just the doing part. A decade and a half of listing things, scribbling down in Sharpies--or Pilots when I was younger--things to do, planning things in organizers, whatever. I just never really finished an entire list of to-do's, and it's breaking my heart. *heartbroken*

Hope sparks in 2009 as I will not be miscalculating anymore, and will be finishing them all.
*background sound to Mortal Kombat's echoing narration during fatality, brutality, or babality tweaks*

Game and Crab -- 2 of my favorites in the world

Instead of going to a bar in Quezon Avenue, we went to Game Crab Boardgame Cafe along Katipunan. People celebrate their entry to adulthood in such craziness as drinking alcohol until vomiting, grand parties that require decency, formal balls, shabu-shabu experimentations and--I was pinching myself while trying to articulate this--adult bars or watching R18 films.

I've convinced myself a dozen times ago to experience the heaven that's Game Crab. But I've never convinced anyone else. So when asked what to do for my birthday, I quickly said, "Game Crab!" It's a cafe that serves not only good food but entertainment through the boardgames. I've never heard of anything like it. So the mechanics is that you go there, you buy food, you pick a boardgame, you play, then play some more until you have to go, then go when you have to.

The hourly rate of 45 per head is cheap as compared to the lifetime poverty from purchasing these boardgames. Boardgames usually cost in grands, and they can go from a thousand to sixteen. The Cashflow boardgame costs 15999 in Toy Kingdom (This is one of the reasons the creators of Rich Dad, Poor Dad get rich). Nobody in their right underwear will be purchasing this unless they have a consistent influx of money, money, money. So, for those who are financially challenged, Game Crab Cafe provides the piracy, although more legally than film piracy. Arr!

What's more is that they provide you time to learn from their very friendly staff who are praiseworthily omniscient. You can also switch games anytime you want. Their games list consists of the classics as well as the unheard of. Although I have to admit, they still need to add more boardgames because I felt they lacked several.

We played Quelf and Acquire. We attempted Marvel Superheroes and Cranium WOW, but because we were six and only four can play Marvel Superheroes, and because Cranium WOW was very much like Quelf, we never really finished.

Quelf's objective is to reach the finish, like Snakes and Ladders. Simple? Not quite. Color-coded steps require you to act, sing, write, lose your dignity, answer trivia questions, and implement rules. The cards are Showbiz, Scatterbrainz, Stunts, Roolz and Trivia. Showbiz requires you to sing, act or dance. Scatterbrainz lets you choose a category. Each player, taking turns, has to say something in that category in ten seconds. Stunts makes you do some stuff. Roolz allows you to implement self rules or group rules. In Trivia, you have to answer questions. Penalties are implemented; these come in the form of going back spaces.

In Acquire, you have to be the richest by the end of the game. A grid with cells labeled maps out a place where you can found companies. Each company has stocks which you can purchase. The goal is to enlarge a company, in terms of land area, so that when two companies collide, the bigger company eats up the smaller company. It's too hard to verbalize. But anyhow, it's strategic, and I have to say, it's a dodecillion times better than Monopoly. That's how good it is.

Game Crab is a misnomer. They don't serve crab. Awww!

The beauty of being eighteen is freedom. No limits, no restrictions, no "Hey you need to show proof that you're over thirteen!" before watching an R13 movie. The freer I am, the younger I feel. The logical conclusion here is I am younger.

Of seventeen and zero

This is one of the incidences that deserve a post amid business.

The Lord has truly blessed me with an eventful and diverse eighteen years of living.

The first thing I thought of this morning as I woke up was how to set the bounds of an iterated integral. I am thankful for the math exam, even though I may have committed a lot of mistakes. I am thankful because without it, the only thing I would have thought of was how many greetings I will have received by the end of today, which is quite dumb. Good thing I got to my senses, and I let Jesus sign a resolution.

To be frank, I don't want to be an adult. Adulthood is filled with predicaments way beyond the capacities of an unprepared child. Read: I know nothing about ripening. When people teased me this morning, I told them I was born tonight at about 5-6 (says my birth certificate) so that I wasn't eighteen yet.

But thanks to Ria's statement "Di mo naman maeevade e," I welcomed an epiphany. Welcomed, but dismissed abruptly. I still don't want to be eighteen. I'm not excited with adult stuff like registration, night clubs, R18 films, and alcohol (These are all enumerated by friends). I may be two hundred sixteen months old, but I am younger at heart. The only thing I'm excited about being eighteen is that I can join TV game shows.

Thank God for life. Consider me seventeen still.

Moved

I now live 7 minutes away from UP Diliman. Although my new home is situated along an alley that's so slum-like and puppy-infested, I haven't seen any dangerous men lurking in the streets so I hope it's safe. I haven't gotten the hang of this new home thing, but I do hope before November ends, I will have been able to reconstruct my study habits.

Mikael, Greggy and Andrew are my roomies. They all snore (although Greggy hasn't moved in yet); I'm the only one who doesn't snore in my sleep.

The best thing I like about this is I can get to my 7 AM class on time even if I wake up past six. Hopefully, I will not abuse the fact that I won't get late even if I wake up thirty minutes before my sched.

JKLM

Joji Klarisse Liwag Mendoza. Kahit na bibihira kang bumisita rito, babatiin pa rin kita.

Maligayang kaarawan, kapatid.

Alam kong kung ikaw ako, lalagyan mo ng larawan 'to.

Pero ako ako, kaya naman simple lang 'to.

Pagpalain ka nawa ng Diyos.

Umuwi ka na.

PS. Dito lang kita pwedeng batiin. Pupunta kasi ako sa malayong lugar bukas, kaya magpapaka-ascetic ako.

Bipolar

Battered shoulders. Green wrist. Ten photographs. Irksome throat.

All worth it.

Up dharma Down has never got and will never get trite, even with the signature effects.

Because my companions ditched me, I had gone to the "Bipolar" album launch alone--proof of my undying, ever-enduring love for the band.

Even though I only saw fragments of Armi, Polyap, Los, and Ean at a time, the sounds more than compensated for the lack of vision.

Armi has gotten slimmer and hotter with her hair. If only we reek the same generations, I would've wooed you.

Come signing time, I shoved them their two albums, but was too timid to speak phrases. It somehow was intimidating, like in the presence of idols. Ahhh, if I were to see God face-to-face, I wouldn't be able to breathe.

But tada, nice nice. Polyap, why didn't you sign my CD? You were the only one who signed once on "Bipolar." Good thing the face you drew is awesome!

Up dharma Down, thank you for the music.

Blessed. Clockwork. Delayed breathing. All year round. Taya. Unspoken definites. The cold is warmth. Two. Sana. Return, saturn, return. Every first second. Furnace. Silid. Sugarcoats & heartbeats.

*

Yesterday, I bought four books, amounting to grands: The world without us, Possessing genius, The forensic casebook: the science of crime scene investigation, and Runaways Vol. 1.

This sem break, I will be brushing up the shelves and my neurons with the aforementioned books, plus Mark Lynas' Six degrees.

Any form of Chemistry, flee from me. You will not haunt me this sem break. You will not. If you try to phenylpropanalamine me with the generic meds, I will burn you to the very last drop and I swear I will slack off in school.

*

If only desperate losers stopped from being so desperate, the world will be a better place to live in.

"Taya" is my favorite track so far.

Bliss beyond words

I tried to contain all the emotion, the restlessness stirring within me, what with the fine weather contradicting the quite expected maladies of The Router. But no, alas, I have no evidence whatsoever--no pictures, no memorabilia, no name tag, no souvenir. Just the memory of a thousand friendships, waiting to entangle themselves onto one another, as a labyrinthine connect-the-dots sheet.

I cannot impart upon you any bit of happiness or joy or gladness or excitement because I'm no Matt Parkman. But what I can tell you is that I'm ready to have a kid. And not just ready, I'm excited. It is the beauty of humanity, the perpetuation of its own species, as Mr. Mamaril had told us.

But what gave me the gladness similar to unwrapping a heap of presents during Christmas was the unwrapping of anonymity. The disclosure of closeness, unexpectedly hidden within.

I met a lot of kids. At the Institute for Foundational Learning, I befriended a lot, most of them actually. Kids ranging from 4 to 19 (perhaps?). And it was an easy task, with them approaching you like ants that have smelled cookie crumbles. There were a dozen "Kuya Ben! Kuya Ben!"s And I was looking around and below for the kiddie high-pitched sources.

Ahh, why are kids so happy and joyful? While some people get so impatient and stubborn and bitchy sometimes.

The first kid to approach me was Joven (although technically, it was I who approached him), around 7 or 8 (for so many kids, I only remembered a few ages). I was busy setting up the signs. He narrated about his friend, Ben ________ whom he recalled because of my name tag.

The face-painting made me face a lot of kids, sadly, I cannot enumerate all. I face-painted the green team with Jhing Talan, and the kids LOOOOOVED the face paint. The first creature I drew was a lion, and it looked more like a puppy to me. And some wanted butterflies, the most desired creature of all. Followed closely by the flower. And some vines. These days, kids have gone more earthy.

Three kids that I remembered from that face-painting were Heather, Nico and Jeremiah.

Heather. The plump, cheerful little girl, wanted anything. On her nose, her cheeks, her forehead. Anywhere on her face. Green paint all over her face, and she wasn't even on the green team. Later that day, she went kite-flying with me. I was so ecstatic to help everyone. She got her frame busted. The barbecue-looking stick dropped onto a ground of harvest leftovers. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, except the needle looked much like hay, only harder and denser. But still, we didn't find it. So we had to improvise and put a balloon stick instead, only to find out that it was so flexible that it increased its crash-landing statistics to about five-fold.

Nico. Aww, the kid who never stopped smiling. If only he had perfect teeth, he would have been part of Colgate's "Brush brush brush!" He was part of the orange team, the team with pink paint on (sorry Michael King, no time for mixing colors there). He wanted a green mustache and beard and a green eye-patch. Arrr!!! If only the party hats were pirate hats instead of animals.

And Jeremiah, the bashful. We had to play funny bones, ear to mouth, most of the time. And still a fraction of the time I didn't understand what he had said. He was the sweaty kid. He wasn't at all fat, but he had sweat like he was in the middle of a sun-washed cornfield. He had to line up a dozen times just so his snazaroo didn't wear off. If only the mess hall had outdoor air. This kid got so attached to me that I had to carry him behind my back the entire Treasure Hunt. He was always so serene even when our tribe was figuring out the clues. And the moment we arrived at the clue location, we had to leave so suddenly because by the time we arrived, they'd figured out the clue.

At the fields, we flew kites. There, I sat in the middle, and then came Debbie. Deborah/Debra Grace was the cutest. But the most violent. She was sort of conio. We had an exchange of
"They made away." "Who made away to you?" "Them *points at Pito*"

And later on: "The sky is so taas." "Debbie, why is the kitten bigger than the dinosaur?" "Because Barney's a kid." "Debbie, why is Barney purple?" "Debbie, which do you prefer, Barney or the kitten?" "Barney AND the kitten." "Debbie, do you like your hat?" To which she angrily throws off her hat. And then she rests her butt on me. Later on she kills me, scratching my ears and my neck, like a cat fighting for life. My ears bled. I pretended to be dead. To which she laughed. And laughed some more. Giggled like a teenage girl fan. Then she butt-jumped on my belly as though I was her personal trampoline. And I pretended to be dead more than a dozen times. Again and again and again. And she was not at all satisfied.

It was hard to bid our goodbyes. Debbie never wanted to let me stand. And when I was finally able to stand. She tricked Irish into carrying her, like an infant. But it was a trap! She never wanted to go down. Never. Until, she was forced by the authorities. She was such a strong girl for such a young age; she never showed tears.

Arnel was the same as my age. He had wanted to befriend me, like his brother because he knew another Ben whom he was very dearly close. He taught me several handshakes. Those stuff best friends usually do. The last word I heard from him was "ingat" after the handshakes he taught me. He must have been used to saying goodbyes as he was very composed.

I wish I had that composure. Even though I only got to spend hours with them, I will forever treasure the fun times. It's all in my head. And when I get old, I will recall the day.

This day marks my calendar

And it marks my age too. Tried and disliked. Never gonna happen again. Perhaps.