II.
Bilibid Exposure Trip.
This is my last off-campus project as the Minister for Community Development of USTSS. I’m not certain if this is rewarding, but it surely is tiring. I only got this position—after a stupid amendment of the USTSS constitution—halfheartedly, since I know that there are some in our class who deserve this more because they have more time and are more committed to it. Besides, I’m used to working behind the curtains. These “worthy” people assured me last year that they would help me on things that would be needed, and I was partially contended on that. But then again, to be honest, I think it’s unfair because they have no commitment in any extra-curricular organization while I have two. So to burden me with this—they’re the scourge of the gods.
Nonetheless, I am surviving despite some criticisms. More students in the faculty took notice of me, knew who I am, what I do, even my pranks at the corridors. Some of them befriended me, greeted me, which is good, being said hi to. At times, this publicity’s too known and shared too much for comfort. There were interviews, letters, calls, text messages inquiring about this and that project, how they can exploit (implicitly) these things to the recognition and even survival of their organizations. What pains me is that half of the time they do not introduce themselves first, and it doubles because I have this paranoia of being monitored and being put on surveillance for possible recruitment or assassination by the state, the CIA, GLA, whatever. And so my eyes are usually in a jarring sort of way when confronted by this people, oh this is UST.
But this is good. This is social proof. Social proof that I could use to my advantage as a source of numerous DHV (demonstration of high value) spikes on dating. It has worked before for the intended effect, and I do not see any reason why it wouldn’t work for Joyce. That is why almost everytime that something is needed to be updated to her section, 1jrn2—she’s a freshman—I take the time and effort to do it myself so I could see her and talk to her, all the way calculating my actions, taking two steps forward and one step backward, so as to eliminate any possibility of boring her with my presence because right now, to be honest, I don’t look good, even though I don’t have my beard (dirty look) anymore. On another point, usually, people like her, those who are new at the alternative culture of AB, have not refined their tastes yet. This is so, at least partially, because she is still quite young. Her and my points of view are different as far as I know because she is still a freshman. Was that already mentioned, that she is a freshman? My thinking is relatively different from her because, like what the 24-year old date of mine has said a year ago:
“Wow, kung mag-isip at magsalita ka parang ka-edad ka na namin. Astig!”
This is not to say that I could not relate to younger people at any way. I need bridges for that, and one of those bridges is this social proof that I have now. This is not merely bragging, more like asserting in a sort of way. If this is bragging, I would not be responsible, would not be here in the Flame Office on a day that I am supposed to be resting because I have no class, panting while editing the schedules of the Exposure Trip not two days away because some inconsiderate people are demanding this to be so, not realizing (or caring) how hard it is for me, this revising and rescheduling of excuse letters, the customary dirty look that the IPEA people give me whenever I update them of sudden changes, how it is for these freshmen to adjust to their still-observed-feebly PE schedules, because, according to them and to my usual assumption, some of them would be failing already the subject if they would be absent one more time. It’s the usual we’re-still-adjusting-because-we’re-new-at-it thing of these teenagers.
It’s almost seven in the evening, and 1jrn2 would be dismissed already. I run up the stairs, past the chatting commerce students, into the corridor. Rm203, there is no professor and everybody’s preparing to leave and I interrupt them, announcing another change, and a unified sigh vibrates through the corridor. I tell them the reason; some of them crowd before me, my back against the wall, a crescent army before a shocked platoon. I maintain my composure; Joyce is looking at us, maybe amazed. Maybe she is amazed, or at least surprised, that her friends are cornering me now. I tell them the reason, and some indignant girl named Chesca is shoving her way through the people in front of me.
“Kuya Zaldy naman! Hindi pwede yun! Baka ma-FA na ako eh!” she exclaims.
“Wait, wait. FA, anung problema?” I call her FA. I gently inquire, facing her usual lively self.
“Heh! Di ba nga malapit na akong ma-FA? Pano yan, ano’ng sasabihin ko sa PE prof ko?” her hands are on her waists now. Then it occurs to me that she’s cute this way, when she’s annoyed, her already little eyes squinting, accentuating her Chinese(?) features. And I remember my two prospects, the first one I dated, both having tsinita looks also. Do I easily fall for such?
“Ok, FA. Ikaw na lang ang may problema sa schedule di ba? So ang gagawin ko bukas ay ia-update ko kagad ang IPEA sa case mo. Kung pwede rin sana kausapin mo yung prof mo. Ayus lang?”
“Sige na nga! Hmmp. Ba’t kasi ganito?”
“Wala na akong magagawa. Yun na lang.”
And I tell everybody to calm down, that I’ll get in touch with their president, whom I glanced while saying this. Instead:
“Uy, text sila lagi ni Joyce!” someone said. Then laughs ensued.
“Kesa naman hindi!” I remarked, grinning. She’s trying to hide her faint smile when I look at her again while saying it.
I ask them if there’s any question. When my inquiry met silence, I begin to walk towards Joyce, telling her that I’ll contact her if anything new comes up, while holding her right arm with my left hand, squeezing lightly. She smiles, says OK, and I leave.
Strangely enough, I feel refreshed after a long day.
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