Going home from Tarlac

I am writing this piece trying to escape from the numbness of my fingers. It’s as if I am a new-born who types on the netbook for the very first time, yet someone who has already known a lot.

There seems to be a missing piece that I need to fill up with the perfect material I could see.

Our van stopped at a gasoline station along NLEX so we could rest, eat, or answer nature’s call. It was called “Shell of Asia” but I heard one of my Travel Journalism classmates utter it is “Skull of Asia” and not “Shell of Asia”.

That’s weird event number 1 (on this blog)

I wanted a dessert, or an ice cream from DQ and we entered as if we were its first ever customers. The place was as deserted as a haunted hallway, the crew were eagerly waiting for a customer so they wouldn’t be a huge nonsense.

Posted on the wall was a framed collage of pictures of celebrities with the DQ crew, one of them was Bb. Pilipinas-Universe 2010 and Miss Universe 2010 4th runner-up Venus Raj.

We were staring at the pictures pointing at the people we knew. That’s weird event number two. My eyes just panned to a wall decor located just at the right of the collage — photos of oranges and strawberries. They’re lovely.

I wasn’t feeling very well on our way home from Tarlac. I felt the same thing when we visited Bacolod last year. All I was thinking about on our way back was to go home and hug my mom.

Several things happened as we neared Quezon City. I didn’t know if it was just me or whatsoever but I didn’t see Trinoma which supposedly, at that time, should stand across SM North Edsa. Weird event number three.

We were on our way to the University of the Philippines-Diliman and an array of oddity occurred, it made me feel uncomfortable. First, batch wars. Someone just mentioned batch wars and I didn’t understand. What I saw were a group of people (it was dark that I could not waste time to even examine their faces one by one) with backpacks walking toward the College of Music.

I’ve always wanted to thank my Travel Journalism professor for giving me a ride and taking me to Trinoma where I supposed to meet my aunt. Weird things. I felt happy hearing almost no unnecessary noise around but then the feeling of insecurity comes back and disorder strikes. This is what makes me sick that I would almost throw out.

The next day, without my knowledge, I was brought to the hospital and given medications unknown to me. Take it as something you don’t know you have but others know you have it. It’s confusing, I know.

Several things happened in the hospital ward that you would call me insane. It was like being a character in a Tim Burton Batman (I would not wish to be part of the comic book for now). Those I would opt not to disclose fully and just to remain in my mind. All I could say is that it helped me choose which road to take.

I stayed at the hospital for five days but for a patient, five days would only be equivalent to three days. I grew tired of the walls, the bed, the cushioned chair, the restroom, and even that chain hanging on the door which I haven’t known what for.

I talked to some nurses and physicians trying to get the tickles. I succeeded only once. And I miss my attending doctor, Dr. Salazar, who understood me and became a great listener to my stories, rants, and wishes. I miss her right now.


Here’s what I learned from those experiences: to live life like an empty basket that gets filled as we wake up in the morning and, as much as possible, unfilled as we sleep at night waiting to be filled again by new things tomorrow.

It is a basket with no limits.

Good night!


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