After a month of chasing egocentric clients and pampering the management of my new office with fresh sales, this one night came when I can still manage to sit on my dusty computer chair and turn on my grieving PC. Oh yes, I totally forgot my postpaid PLDT Vibe is running already, and I just don’t get it when they still bill me with the much slower connection. (I know, in this country, consumer rights are as trivial as food for its street kids.)
But online I went, and how I missed writing again. Everyday the itch of writing would haunt me. Of just sitting in one dark corner, motionless and soundless but my fingers, scrawling of things that are either tragic or orphic.
Once again, I opened my classmates’ journals and websites. Their written thoughts and digital images spreading on my computer screen conjured happy and nostalgic moments. A familiar feeling that swarmed me long time ago, maybe ten years back, of fresh faces that’s probably smeared now with the harsh realities of life. Well, I recently saw some, much older, plumper and acerbic.
College life is a concoction of tears and sweat, laughter and grief, some forever etched on dainty logbooks, others on the oft-forgotten blue books. A friend, Jerry Uy, has presented such thoughts on his website, with his own version of honoring the sweet passage of time that goes farther and farther along with the images of his (our) friends. If we could only capture time in a bottle, I would choose one from college, where life is kinder and people are truer. I like Amy’s angst, Nikki’s passion for pets, Arcie’s escapades, Angelie’s girlie notes and the many bubbly smart-asses I happen to befriend.
To them I take off my hat and wish them luck!
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