Confused-Shoes

I have always been a bad dancer, and for years I have been waiting for that someone who would be patient enough and tolerate the idea and the practice of dancing with me.

Years passed and I should have known better. I never should have tried my feet, dancing along with professionals. How could I have known that this dance would be my perpetual ruin? Of course I should have known. I am mature and I know a lot of things.

I have big plans. Fantasies. Illusions. Innumerable impossible dreams. And in my desire to accomplish such and turn them into reality, I have not only lost myself but these very dreams. Nothing remains but frustration. Why did I ever do that, pretending that I belong? Why do I keep poking my head into the cold and dark and uninviting room lit by torches and chandeliers and people who eat food I haven’t tasted, wear clothes I never wore, speak in tongues to foreign and dance in a music I could never adore?

But I keep telling myself. I wanted this. I am holding on, albeit I must not stay in the dance floor. Clowns and jesters could not forever be strong amidst ridicule. The stage is cruel, so are the dancers. I am not good enough and before anyone tells me so, aloud, I should leave.

it took me so long to realize all these but it will take me just as long to leave it all.

Yes, I am the world’s biggest Saddist. My impotence destroys me, my frustration rages deep inside and I am blinded by my inability to cope, when everyone and everything else seems to dominate.

Dance, dance,dance.

(birth determines personality)

Second week, law school. The rains have started. There should be no more excuses for tardiness. There should be no more reasons for procrastination. There are just two things left: doubt and guilt.

(were it not for the inherent impossibility)

Who feels the strain of the cases and readings steadily piling? Higher and higher, harder and harder. I do. Hell, If I studied like this during undergrad I guess I would have made more people proud. And how about the doubts? Am I really for law school? Is law school really for me? Corny as it may be (as I have thought of it back then), now I am finding that short movie during the orientation a little too real. Haha, nakakarelate na ko. Whichever way I put it, the doubts still beckon me towards frustration. I need redemption. I need something to raise my spirits up.

(should commit an offense while on a philippine ship or airship)

And the guilt, ah yes. Teachers not showing up lately, or not teaching. Two weeks. It would be nice for them not to show up but definitely bad for our bar exams (if I may set my sights too far). Yes, the free times and vacant scheds should give relief, but not. Guilt trip, guilt trip. How can I smoke calmly when every smoking break I have the “shit I should be in the lib making the digests” monologue in mind? (even though living abroad) Is law school a calling? Perhaps. But for myself, I don’t think so. I am enjoying the precious free moments with the block right now. No ifs, no buts, no guilt, no doubt. But definitely, acads-wise, I am lagging behind.

(cannot allege the incapacity of those)

So I highlight another sentence and right down another fact. I memorize one short article, the long, complicated ones I leave to chance. I stare at the teacher in front, pretending to be god. I catch a quick glance at someone, brooding, smiling, reading, anyone at all. I hope nobody understands the teacher. I hope everyone thinks this way too. There is the future but must I die before I come to terms with it?

(persons who are authorized in this Code to obligate themselves)

Outside, UP is dreary and dirty. The sunken garden is more of a mud pool. There are no friendly faces outside the block. Ah, the rains have begun.

(extinguished by death).XXX

petitioned denied, costs against it.

I will be a hero.

I will do something meaningful. I will perform well so that they will be compelled to build statues of me. They will lay wreaths upon my tomb, they will have streets named after me. Airports will bear my initials, town plazas will have busts in my semblance. Provinces, schools, bridges, cockpits, arenas, grandstands, fields, expressways, residences, forts, camps, beaches, farmlands, churches, dorms, markets, terminals, malls, subdivisions, estates, hospitals, prisons, mountains, seas, the sky.

They shall not forget. They will always remember. They will think of me as if I was an angel sent to aid humanity. I will be a protector, a martyr, a visionary, an idol, a role model, a saint.

They would preserve my brains and my heart. My clothes and diaries in musuems. My words, in books and in their hearts. Schoolchildren will recite the poems that I have written in my youth. Anthems shall be made out of my poems, manifestos written under the influence of my thought. They will say, I am a genius. I am the epitome of humanity, the majesty of all creation, the beauty of human existence.

Ah, this five foot four, overweight, pimple-scarred sarcastic small town kid? But I bet you have dreams too. Nietzsche would be proud if you would not repress them, but announce them to all, so that the guilt may be expelled, from the fear that you have kept something so sinister in your heart all along.

I watched Trsitan and Isolde last night. Ah, I am King Marke.

Suddenly, the days are shorter.

I am saying goodbye, temporarily, i hope, to Nietzsche, The Beatles, forwarding quotes that I have discovered from my own books, Murakami, FHM, NBA Live, Frank Sinatra, Franz Listz, random trips to the gate to smoke a quiet night Marlboro, long sunday dinners with my family, long sunday NBA games, French 19th century novels (in English, of course), cheap mango shakes, lazy UP jogs, long YM chats, long Friendster blogging, talking to my cat while watching him eat, hanging out with the boys from the hood, taking long walks with girls who do not like me, overstaying in certain fancy bookstores, and so much more.

I have to say goodbye to so much more if I have to keep my very young career as a law student going. And I have to keep it going.

For a small town boy who is in Malcolm Hall, everything has been such a big blessing. Now I have to make Him who blessed me happy by doing my best, and still asking.

Thank you for you who raised my spirits up. I was in a bookstore in Cubao, then, with some friends, buying my very first law books.

Yes, I will fight. And so it is, just like you said it would be. Life goes easy on me, most of the time.

I went to Jupiter for a nephew’s party

But as it were I came two hours too early

So I roamed the streets. I didn’t mind the sweat

And I had with me my favorite red Adidas jacket

I was looking for a barber, or a salon would do

But in this city, haircut, like women, is overpriced too.

I roamed the streets the sun was up

Looking for certainty amongst the bus stops

Looking for love in the fancy shops.

I was alone. Orion, Juno, Kalayaan, and other streets

Offered various, delectable, interesting treats

But Seven – elevens were ubiquitous. And that was good

I needn’t spend too much on food.

A pack of cigarettes would do.

But in this city, smoking in streets, like certain women, is forbidden too.

And I had issues in my mind, certain stuff

My superior education wasn’t enough

To keep my afternoon from getting too rough.

Party’s underway. Lovely relations            

And of course, no stunning revelations

Same old idea of happiness – getting together

Our togetherness –  every family member

Being there and kissing and smiling would do

But in this city, sincerity, like uneducated women, is frowned upon too.

And so there goes my day

I did not throw it all away

And I want all my loved ones to stay.

The night, in this big mall, is terrifying

People everywhere, buying colorful things, shopping

And everything goes up on sale

Moneymaking operating without fail

But really, just kindness would do

But in this city, charity, like badly-dressed women, is absent too.

And with my nieces, I should have stayed

The way they laughed and chased when we played

And on my way home I was lost and lonely and afraid.

Going home. The train was packed and with my jacket

I kept on checking every single pocket

And I was in the dark jeep. Drenched in sweat

Headed to UP and I had a walk that I could never forget

It was so dark. Silent, I was alone, and if something happened there’s nothing I could do

Because in every city, bravery, like intelligent women, are unrecognized too

And I was really lonely, felt like I needed a siren

But I took a walk in dark UP, of all places, just so I could tell it then

Though I’d be here tomorrow morning, I just wanted to know your night again.

Diliman, Quezon City

After the incident, Jed Castillo was reportedly not available for any comment.