a fresh start

Rob was just another ordinary guy. Was. He lived a quiet student life the first two years upon stepping into college when the pressure finally got to him. Since then, he hung out with the wrong crowd, skipped classes, got into fights which resulted in him transferring schools thrice in the last year. What was once a person with potential, now is starting over. Again.

At least he had a say in which school he transfers to next. Only this time, the list has gotten pretty short. So short, that his privilege of choosing was taken away from him… by the list itself. Of all the universities he sent his applications to, only one was brave enough to accept him. And this didn’t sit well with Rob. Yet, he had no choice. He badly wanted to put his life back together and was short of doing everything, anything to find himself before all the madness started and to prove that he’s worth something to his friends, his family, and himself.

Moving into Yellowbrook College was easier than he thought. Most of the other students there didn’t know about his checkered past–or at least the more black parts than white–and are actually nice to him when he first came in. One of the first to welcome him was Geri. She is the student council president, teaching assistant and Guidance Couselor assistant all rolled into one. She even sat in the panel when school officials interviewed him after passing the entrance examination so this was not the first time Rob laid his eyes on her. And it was even her that told him he got accepted.

“How is life here in Yellowbrook?” Rob remembered asking Geri that question as soon as she broke the news of his acceptance. “What do you mean?” she asked back. “It’s just like any other college,” she continued. “We have students, teachers, a dean, and pretty much what every other school in the country also has.” There was a tone of formality in her answer, probably reflecting the kind of upbringing she had, he thought to himself. It also probably dawned on him at that particular time that maybe he shouldn’t have sent his application here to begin with. “Are we in any classes together?” he finally shot back after a lull in what she just said. “I mean, it would be rather nice to have a familiar face–” he continued when she suddenly interrupted him. “I dunno. Maybe. I haven’t checked my forms yet.” came her swift answer. “Oh… okay,” was all he could say as his shyness took over him in a way he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

to be continued…

on this day, eight years ago…

Eight years.

Even I am quite surprised that what started out as an outlet for expressing my thoughts and feelings would last this long, with close to 290 entries in total.  Granted, I may have slowed down significantly over the past two or so years, but I think having that number of entries over that span of time is still quite a feat…  at least for me.  Other bloggers may have twice or even thrice the number over the same amount of time, but I guess the difference between me and (most of) them is that I write on impulse and feeling which is not time-bound at all.  After all, this is a personal blog.

Let’s see, I think I have written about almost anything one can think of.  Yes, more than half of my entries may be about my love life (or lack thereof), but I suppose I have touched on every subject matter I can think of.  But with all of those entries, I make it a point that it has two characteristics:  truth and honesty.  I always speak with an element of truth to what I am saying, and convey what I really feel inside.  I mean, there’s no point in maintaining a personal blog when the entries are full of outrageous or deceiving feelings and information that can be easily contradicted with realistic fact.  Unless if it is a politician’s blog, then maybe.  But I can vouch that for each and every entry I have written, it has both truth and honesty.  I could care less if I step on other people’s toes or hurt some feelings, or even challenge social or religious norms; like I have said time and again:  this is my blog, this is my space, and I can responsibly say whatever I want, whenever I want.  And I cannot imagine doing it any other way.

Seriously, has it been really that long?  I guess it really is.

Eight years, 286 entries, 189 comments, 16 categories, 100 percent truth, honesty, and most importantly, heart.

And a partridge in a pear tree.

bruised and bloodied

It’s been a while.

While I hope to be writing again on more uplifting circumstances–especially after a long absence–I’m afraid it’s somehow the opposite.  I guess it’s because for the first time in my life, I might have done something I wish I could take back.

Don’t get me wrong, I have always lived my life without any regrets.  And that I have always believed that having regrets is like slapping the face of a teacher trying to teach you a lesson.

I suppose the old adage holds true:  “there is always a first time for everything.”  Or maybe, all of us are meant to experience this kind of situation in one way or another.  Yet I have always, always had my better judgement prevail in the midst of being faced with such difficult choices.  After all, I have gone halfway through my life experiencing almost everything a professional would encounter.  Add to that, I sought the advice and wisdom of friends and colleagues-turned-friends alike.  All of them telling me to go with the decision I made.  But let me be very clear that for the record, I am NOT in any way putting blame on them.  It was MY decision to make.  MY own.  I blame MYSELF for this.  It’s like what I tell my friends when they ask me for advice:  “I can always tell you what you want to hear, or what you need to hear.  But in the end, it’s going to be you and you alone who makes that decision.”

I honestly feel that I betrayed myself; went against my (un)written rule:  “never settle for anything less than what you truly believe you deserve to receive for yourself.”  Years of blood, sweat, and tears of getting to where I am somehow just thrown away like trash.  If there is an opposite to the term “sellout,” then that befits me rightly.

It may be that easy to say, “then just turn around, you asshole!  Why wallow in your predicament?”  If only it were that easy and complication-free.  I did what I think I had to do.  I surely do not know the reason why I did it, and right now, I’m still searching the very recesses of what’s left of my soul for answers.  I may find it, or I may not.  But now that I’m here, and what’s done is done, I just move forward.  I may not like–borderline, hate–what I did, but I am a professional.  I do what’s asked of me; use my expertise, knowledge and wisdom I have acquired over the years and be better.  I’ll deal with it, like what I have always done in life.

All of that was two weeks ago.  Since then, I’ve been picking up the pieces of my pride, ego, and better judgement that received a major ass-whooping from, who else, myself.  I guess being a Gemini has it’s benefits.  My other side is carrying me through each and every day.  Only time will really tell if I’ll ever forgive myself.

Yet, maybe there’s a deeper reason why I am where I am.  Fate?  Chance?  Part of the life program?  A higher power at work?  Who knows?  All I do know right now is that I made my own shitload of a mess, and I’m the only one who can and will clean it up.

Of fastfood and radio

I think it was the great Bruce Lee who said somewhere along the lines that, “goals are not always meant to be reached; sometimes, goals are there so that there is something for you to aim at.” With that in mind, I think the same goes for our dreams. Whether you’ll admit it or not, we all have dreams about being this, or having that–whatever this and that may mean to be. Yes, I’m talking about dreams that are realistic in nature, or the ones that can be reached in one’s lifetime; not the fantasy-type ones that come true only in movies (yes, world peace being one of them). I’m guessing that out of the entire population on this Earth, only about 20 percent have reached or lived at least one of their dreams, whether it was from their childhood or dreams born out of inspiration; and about one to five percent that have two or more that came true. Consider me part of that lucky first group, who at an early age of 20, has lived the dream I had since I was around 9 years old. But more on that later. I wanted to focus more on a dream that came out of the love for music.

Music has played a very big part in my life. I remember the very first cassette album I had as a kid. It was called, “Puff, The Magic Dragon,” a collection of children’s songs (the album name ironically would become a slang for smoking pot, but that’s a different story altogether). I also had Lea Salonga’s very first album, a collection of songs from “Annie,” and in part because she was my childhood crush. And my Dad would always play either Abba, Glen Campbell, Don McLean or John Denver on our stereo during those days or in the car, and I would listen and enjoy it as well.

I got my first taste of listening to the radio when USA for Africa released “We Are The World” in 1985. It was the radio station 92.3 that had this MRS or Most Requested Song segment which played that song every hour, and I would make sure that I’m tuned in every time just to hear it. It was also around that time that I became conscious of the kind of music I listen to. Over time, I would become a regular listener for different radio stations, which, at that time, only played mostly foreign songs before the Pinoy band scene emerged in the 90s.

A childhood friend introduced me to radio station 97.1 LSFM right around 1992. There was this daily noon countdown (Top 20 at 12) he was listening to hosted by a DJ named Triggerman who he found amusing. I was immediately hooked and became an avid listener. I started to think then that playing the most popular and awesome music everyday was so cool. It was also around that year when the station introduced the Campus Aircheck program for college students who wanted to become radio DJs. But I would only learn of that a year later, during my freshman year in college. I was preparing for my mid-term exams when I heard the radio plug for it, calling for would-be aspirants. I got myself a bio-data all filled out, but became disappointed when the submission period turned out to be during my mid-term week. There was no way I could let that interfere with mid-terms (yes, I was still a good boy at that time). So I opted not to go through with it. But I would still be an avid listener of that station. I would also become a regular caller, not of that particular countdown program, but the station’s other programs where the resident DJs would already recognize my voice whenever I’d get through their busy phone lines. They would sometimes let me go on air to do some greetings or introduce the next song. It was that way throughout the first two years of college until I slowly started to drift away from radio to focus my attention on more serious matters.

My first dream came true in 1996 when I started working for McDonald’s while I was still in college. I always thought when I was a kid when our family used to go to McDonald’s, how it would be fun to prepare my favorite burgers, fries, and spaghetti. I would always peek behind the counter to try to see how it all came about. Now that I was working for them during the mornings and attending class during the afternoons, my free time was few and far in between. I hardly listened to the radio during those years. My music preference was experiencing a roller coaster ride of some sorts at that time. After being a metal-head during the early 90s where I even grew my hair long and had it straightened regularly, I started to appreciate ballads and mellow love songs, as well as new wave music. Heavy metal then turned to alternative rock which I still listen to on a regular basis up to this day. I went back to listening to the radio in 1999. 97.1 had already switched to a different format that is not to my liking, so I looked for another one, and eventually found RX93.1. With the rise of the internet during that time, I eventually found the station’s website and signed up for their online mailing list. It proved to be one of the more life-changing things I’ve done as I met a lot of new people who became my friends until today. I also became friends and acquaintances with some of their DJs and would get tickets to the station’s events and parties; all because I am a member of their mailing list. Unfortunately, their Radio1 program (their version of Campus Aircheck) was not suitable for me anymore since I already got my college degree. Yet, I would continue to call the station, go on air to join promos, greet, or request for a song. And that for me, was a taste of somehow being a DJ already. The station would eventually have an audition or two for those outside of college wanting to be their next DJ. I would attend those auditions, but unfortunately, I won’t make the cut. Despite being disappointed, I continued to be a fan of that station, and other radio stations that had good music programming. And that dream of playing the best songs slowly faded into oblivion. In consolation, I just told myself that at least I had one of my dreams come true in my lifetime; and that one out of two ain’t bad.

Until recently. Just last month, I woke up one morning having a dream that involved me wearing a headset and talking on a microphone with a switchboard of some sort in front of me. Turns out, I was hosting some sort of radio show with a female co-DJ. We were both talking with someone on the phone, though I cannot remember what the topic was. I remember that after recalling that dream after waking up, how real it felt. I even posted it on Twitter, but shortly after, reality checked in. I thought that it was nice going through that, despite it being in the dream world. But at my age, I thought that all the best music I’ll be playing will be in the confines of my own house. Then about two weeks ago, one of the stations I listen to, Jam 88.3, started airing a plug saying that they are looking for their next radio superstar. Imagine lights and bells going off inside my head as I heard that plug for the very first time. In addition, the station plays all alternative music, which is up my alley. Within a week, I recorded my voice demo. It took me around 30 takes to get the feel I wanted to convey on that demo. I thought to myself that this would be my final shot at that elusive dream, so it’s all or nothing. I submitted my voice demo this past Monday. I was talking to Mike, who graciously accepted my demo which was in .mp3 format, and I was told that it would take a couple more weeks for them to choose which will make the initial cut. It was also sort of an informal interview as he asked me about my background and music interests. As I left the station, I felt a sense of relief that I really decided to go through with it, even after having some initial dissenting thoughts about it.

What happens in a couple of weeks is anyone’s guess. I know and believe–together with the encouragement and support of friends–that I have what it takes (the voice, eloquence, wit, desire, and love for music) to live that elusive dream. If I do make it all the way, then I’m really considering myself very, very lucky. If I don’t or don’t receive any call from them, I won’t whine about it–I mean, not really. But it’ll be no regrets like how i’ve always lived. What’s important is that I took advantage of the opportunity given and made the most of it. Music will continue to be a big part of me now, tomorrow, until I go six feet under. Yet the dream will always be there. If that dream I had last month was any indication of it coming true, then maybe it’s a sign of things to come. If not, well, at least aiming and going for it was worth it. And like I said, one of two ain’t bad. But it would’ve been real cool though. Real effin’ cool.

age plus one

I’m not really a big birthday fan.  At least, when it comes to my own.  It only reminds me of a phrase I heard a long time ago which goes, “when we were young, we wished we were old; and now that we’re old, we’re wishing we are young again.”  Or something like that.  I guess part of my attitudinal paradox is that I am very happy when a friend or family member has a birthday, but I don’t look forward to my own.

But when those greetings start coming in from family and friends alike, it makes me feel a lot better.  Probably because they truly remember, or in these days, see one friend write a greeting on my Facebook wall and follow suit.  Nonetheless, however it’s conveyed, it truly warms my heart.  I actually am still getting greetings via Facebook as I write this.

I guess part of why I don’t look forward to my own birthday is that I cannot do whatever I want despite having all the right to do so (and I do mean whatever I want).  Or maybe because I haven’t received a real birthday gift in almost a decade or more (yes, gift-wrapped with all the trimmings).  Or maybe have that one kick-ass, all-out, swingin’ birthday party; or being thrown a surprise party of that nature for that matter.  Not that I don’t enjoy the simple parties I’ve had at home throughout the years, but one could wish for something different once in a while, right?

But who am I kidding?  Those kind of parties won’t be happening to me.  Not unless I either have super rich friends who could throw that surprise bash, or I win the lottery.  Still, it ain’t a crime to dream, right?  Those two are up there on wishful thinking lane together with me wanting to be a radio DJ.

But nonetheless, a birthday’s a birthday.  And I go back to family and friends who are true to me and sincerely remember when to greet me.  I’m a lessened-expectations kind of guy, so to receive those greetings is truly enough for me to get through that day with a smile on my face and a thankful feeling in my heart.  So to all of you (you know who you are), I say a heartfelt thank you for your birthday greetings.  You have no idea how I appreciate it so much.  May good karma come your way and be blessed a thousand-fold.  You are included in my prayer of thanks as I end the day.  Thank you.  Thank you.

Oh, did I hear asking for my age?  It’s for me to know and you to find out.  Hahaha!