Goodbyes, Grumbles and Glee

*****

Unclassified

S o m e t i m e s y o u l e a v e.

And I can’t do anything but close my eyes as I let you walk away and disappear into the horizon. I want to stop you, to yell at you, to fight for you, to do all those things the hero does in those stupid movies you love so much. But I don’t move. And I don’t know why. (I m s c a r e d.)

S o m e t i m e s y o u l i e.

And you do it so well that between your assuring hands and comforting smile, it’s hard to hear the truth through. It’s always too late when I figure it out, and it leaves me bleeding silently, incessantly, like a razor through frail, pale skin. And I hate you for that. (I f o r g i v e y o u.)

S o m e t i m e s y o u l o v e.

And we stumble into each other just when we’re trying to avoid one another. I look at you and say your name. You look at me and your lips curl into a warm smile. I walk away praying for things to get better soon, but inside I know that it’s the end of the line. (I r e a l l y w a n t t h i s.)

And sometimes… just sometimes… y o u  p r o v e m e w r o n g.

*****

Para sa Inyo

The second semester of the academic year 2009-2010 marks a lot of things for me. It’s officially sixth semester as a UP student and an Aguman member, and my fourth sem as an Economics major. It’s the sem of my ‘return of the comeback’ to dorm life.

Unfortunately, it’s also going to be one of the saddest semesters I will ever have to go through – it’s the sem when so many people I’ve grown to love will say goodbye.

Saying goodbye to graduating Agupips has always been sad, but this time is a lot more difficult because I’ve been with them for three years and I spend time with a lot of time with them on a regular basis. I can’t seem to imagine how next school year is going to be – No more Felipe to squeal “Buddy!” every time I arrive at the tambayan. No more Mike to tease about Ruth and no more Ruth to tease about Mike. No more Kevin to say “Sige, kaya yan” every time I feel like I’m going to fail my majors. No more Aries to tell me “Ang pangit talaga ng ex ni Dirk” and no more Kenn to give me driving tips. No more Jill to eat ice cream with and no more Ferg to consult which Econ prof clears the green flag.

It’s not that I don’t like the non-graduating Agupips. (Pinanari and Sulu, no matter how mean I was to you during the app process, I actually love you. Yikee!) It’s just that I’ve been used to having those people around me all the time so it makes me sad to think that I only have five months to spend with them. Sometimes I wish they could stay longer, but then again I don’t want to be selfish. I guess all I can do is to make the most out of their last sem in college and make sure that we’ll have enough memories to last us a lifetime.

Overcome space and we will have HERE. Overcome time and we will have NOW. And between here and now, I’m sure that a little bit of truth, faith and kinship will come a long way. So to all the graduating Agupips, I hope you know that I love you like my real brothers and sisters. I will miss you when you go but will be happy that you’re a step closer to what you want to be.

Now let’s roll and make this sem a blast. ^_^

*****

Chakang Starbucks Barista Part 2

Starbucks baristas hate me.

At Technohub two months ago, a barista ignored me so she could ogle at the person after me in the line, who happened to be Sam Milby. It riled me up, but I forgave her because she had the right to be star struck. However, at Marquee Mall a few weeks ago, another barista ignored me again so he (Or she. Debatable e. Haha!) could ogle at the person I was with. This time I’m less forgiving because my companion wasn’t a celebrity. He was our very own Kuya Al.

Because Kuya Al is an impulsive caffeine addict, we cut the first day of Pautakan (sorry Tutti) for coffee at Starbucks Marquee Mall. When our turn at the counter came, I ordered a double grande Java Chip.

“What’s your name?” the barista asked.

“Nic with a C.” Kuya Al replied for me.

But the barista didn’t write my name on the cup; he/she merely made my drink (took him/her about twenty seconds) and handed it to me. It didn’t even taste right.

And then Kuya Al ordered his usual triple grande almond mocha.

“What’s your name?” the barista asked again.

“Allan.” I replied for Kuya Al.

This time the barista wrote ‘Allan’ on the cup and took forever to make the drink. When it was finally done, he/she called out Kuya Al, handed it to him and put on a big smile as he/she asked “How was your day?” Hmmm, I wondered why he/she never asked me that.

Halfway through our coffee, Kuya Al stood up and told me that he was heading for the restrooms. He had barely taken three steps when the chummy barista concernedly cut in “Are you looking for the CR, Allan? Wala dito e. Sa loob nalang ng mall, malapit lang naman.”

When Kuya Al came back, it was his turn to watch over our stuff. I stood up, but no concerned barista cut in “Are you looking for the CR, Nic with a C? Wala dito e. Sa loob nalang ng mall, malapit lang naman.”

Two hours later, we decided to leave. As we headed for the doors, my favorite barista called out “Bye, Allan! Thank you and come again!” as if I was an insignificant, invisible entity who he could totally ignore in favor of his/her beloved Allan.

“Bakit sakin hindi siya nag bye-bye?” I asked Kuya Al grudgingly, not knowing who I hated more: the barista for completely ignoring me or Kuya Al because he was the only person the churky barista ever paid attention to. Kuya Al laughed, turned to the barista and said “Thank her.”, motioning at me.

And well, well well, look do we have here. Like a giddy puppy eager to please his master, (Seriously.) the barista said, “Thank you!”

If you thought that was the end of the story, you’re wrong. Kuya Al and I went back to Marquee Mall during lunchtime on the third day of Pautakan and we made a quick stop at Starbucks. The chakang barista was not there, but another barista who was also on duty two days ago saw us.

“Kayo yung nung isang araw, di ba?” she asked. “Naka violet din kayo non.”

I felt better. At least she said ‘kayo’. At least this time I was acknowledged.

“Alex, di ba?” she said to Kuya Al. Oh well, at least she got the ‘Al’ part right.

The barista turned to me and smiled blankly.

Seriously, how hard is it to remember my three-letter, one-syllable, super-simple NIC name?

Starbucks baristas haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate me.

*****

Uh-Glee.

I don’t like Glee.

Reasons? One, I don’t like musicals (Did I tell you that I’ve seen just one episode of HSM?). Two, the show’s singing parts are dubbed terribly (my buddy Felipe lip-synchs so much better). Three, I’ve hated Rachel Berry (with the same passionately destructive hatred I feel for Haruno Sakura and Gabriella Montez) the moment I first laid my eyes on her because I hate people whose mouths are as big as their heads, literally and figuratively speaking.

And four, I can barely stand to see Cory Monteith (who I fell in love with when he played the smart, basketball-playing Charlie Tanner in Kyle XY) play the role of Finn Hudson, that  brown-haired, brown-eyed football player with a stick where his brains should be.

And yet this morning I found myself watching my fifth Glee episode on ETC.

It’s crazy, how you claim that you dislike something but can’t find it in you to switch channels whenever it’s on your TV screen. (I think the word for it is ‘in denial’) I already told you that I hate Rachel Berry (and if Glee had another title it would be ‘The Rachel Berry Show’) and I couldn’t care less about the songs performed in the show, but for some reason I still watch it. You know I’m not the type of person who mindlessly follows hypes, either. It’s just baffling.

I won’t really call myself a Glee fan. I told you, I don’t like it.

But three months from now, let’s see if I’ll still be singing the same tune.

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