“In our time, what is at issue is the very nature of man, the image we have of his limits and possibilities as a man. History is not yet done with its exploration of the limits and meanings of ‘human nature’.”
—C. Wright Mills
We had our annual family reunion today. I don’t have anything really special to say about it except that I excused myself for a few minutes to take a walk. Since the reunion was held at Palm Avenue in Dasmariñas Village, it took me about 5 minutes to get to the gates of CSA.
Damn, I missed this school. Everything looked so surreal as we passed it the first time in the car but there’s a different feel about going to a place so full of memories when you’re on foot. Unfortunately, the whole school was closed and I couldn’t even see a single guard with whom I could’ve talked into letting me in (read: suhol haha).
I distinctly remember wanting to get out of CSA as soon as I could. I had heart stories from upperclassmen about how college was this incredibly liberal place where you could cut class at will and not be penalized by it, where you could while away the time having your favorite pack of smokes and no one from the administration could berate you for it. Hah! They never mentioned the fact that you wouldn’t really be able to enjoy all these if you wanted to stay in school because then you would have to be in the library studying your ass off most of the time. If only I had know how tough college would be maybe I would’ve stayed where I was—or maybe not. ü
CSA looks just about the same since I last saw it a few months ago during the school fair which is held at on the same week as Valentine’s. I saw the old flagpole at the corner of Carisa St. and Palm Ave. which was where an old rubber tree (or at least I think it was a rubber tree) stood during my grade school days. I remember my batchmate Carl used to go up that tree. One of those times, however, he was quite unlucky and fell off. Haha He got a bloody nose from that incident and refused to be brought to the clinic! A week later, the stubborn guy still kept climbing that tree. Anyway, I digress. The school’s fences are a lot higher than they used to be which makes me think that there’ve been a lot more cases of people climbing them to cut class than during my time. Even Carl would be daunted by it! The buildings seem older as well, the paint chipping away in a lot of places and anywhere metal could be seen there would also be rust stains. Its pretty much the same school that I left four years ago and I couldn’t help but hide the goofy smile off my face as I left it and walked back to the party.
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I think I’ve been feeling a a bit over nostalgic lately. I reorganized my room this morning to have it ready for another few months’ worth of trash and paperwork. I can’t quite get myself to throw away a lot of the old stuff that I’ve collected since I last fixed up the place. Maybe I’m a basurero at heart, keeping things which only I believe to have any real worth at all. At least, that’s how I see it. My mom, however calls both me and my dad as such because of our odd habit of keeping things that have even a little bit of sentimental value—or more often that not, too much of it. I guess that people like me tend to become—or already are—hopeless romantics, torpes, or bitter old men and women who always look back on things long past and keep thinking about what was and what could’ve been. Sad though it might seem to be, I don’t think I’d have it any other way because I’d be missing out on a lot to talk and think about.