Counting Down The Days…

till i head off to college. haha. i’m pretty late… most of my friends have begun classes already, and they have lots of stories already.

gonna go to st scho tomorrow to watch the Comtag screening. all right.

why am i so NOT psyched to post?

urgh.

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pictures from camille’s party.

The day before graduation my classmate (and soon to be dormmate!) Camille invited us over for her birthday party. Masaya, pero i was feeling guilty all throughout because i chose to go to the party than hang out with my barkada at the mall. I think they weren’t really upset, but i guess what i did was pretty, well, un-friend like. Mrs. Mackay (Old adviser, mom of Redone, and sometime mom ko din :D) gave me a ride home (may kasama pa ngang tukso, hehe. oops!). That day Papa also came home. nyek. La lng.

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me, vivi (syota!), jamie (teddybear!), at si lala.
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Si Alot at ako.(what a silly face….>.<) that was soo long ago. hay.

Fruits Basket

I am halfway through Fruits Basket – the tagalized version they aired on channel 2 had so many cuts after all! I have to finish the whole series by friday. sigh. I already know what the ending’s gonna be though. personally, i don’t like it (the ending). It’s Kare Kano all over again – the storyline was great, the characters were interesting, it was funny and kilig and dark – but the ending ruined everything. (btw, they’re airing Kare Kano right now too, and it’s haplessly butchered. just to fit everything into 25 minutes. tsk, tsk.)

I did?!

don’t cringe now, but i was watching Sandara’s Special last night. mwahahaha. she cannot sing. period.

ang aking bagong blog. :)

This is probably a bad idea, because once school starts, i wouldn’t get to blog regularly, since i wouldn’t have a computer in my dorm. blogging, from being a daily vitamin, would have to become an indulgence. but i am starting college in a whole new world away from everything i grew up with. so i’d like to start chronicling whenever i can in a nice, blank blog – to signify change, the turning over of a new leaf. 😀 i am excited. really. despite what people keep telling me, i am determined to do really well. and do it all the right way. hehe. 🙂

I was on a very deep rut the past several weeks, with all these dark and poisonous thoughts blurring my perception of things. i was depressed. i am in a better mood right now, although my issues aren’t exactly resolved yet. but i want to forget about them already! so here i am again, ignoring my ‘problems’. but instead, i’d like to think that i don’t consider them as problems anymore. right. haha. 🙂 whatever.

i’ve been given a new sim card – sun. now i will be able to call my family often, and vice versa (although we do have a landline in the dorm, a call to manila is already charged long distance). it took us this long to jump into the sun bandwagon. i didn’t actually think that we’d be getting sun lines after all. but now we do. hehe. and it rocks. i got to talk to Lilia last night. yay. (she’s in Cebu.) If i do have a problem, it will be switching sim cards – ma wants me to give up my old globe sim (it’s on my old phone right now). hmm. hmm.

****
Mama forwarded this really “shivery” story to me. read and ponder.

At the prodding of my friends, I am writing this story. My name is
Mildred Hondorf. I am a former elementary school music teacher from
Des Moines, Iowa. I’ve always supplemented my income by teaching piano
lessons-something I’ve done for over 30 years. Over the years I
found that children have many levels of musical ability. I’ve never had
the pleasure of having a prodigy though I have taught some talented
students.

However I’ve also had my share of what I call “musically challenged”
pupils. One such student was Robby. Robby was 11 years old when his
mother (a single Mom) dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I
prefer that students (especially boys!) begin at an earlier age,
which I explained to Robby.

But Robby said that it had always been his mother’s dream to hear
him play the piano. So I took him as a student. Well, Robby began with
his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless
endeavor. As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm
needed to excel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some
elementary pieces that I require all my students to learn.

Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and
tried to encourage him. At the end of each weekly lesson he’d always
say, “My mom’s going to hear me play someday.” But it seemed
hopeless. He just did not have any inborn ability. I only knew his mother from
a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged car to pick
him up. She always waved and smiled but never stopped in.

Then one day Robby stopped coming to our lessons.

I thought about calling him but assumed because of his lack of
ability, that he had decided to pursue something else. I also was glad that
he stopped coming. He was a bad advertisement for my teaching!

Several weeks later I mailed to the student’s homes a flyer on the
upcoming recital. To my surprise Robby (who received a flyer) asked
me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for
current pupils and because he had dropped out he really did not
qualify. He said that his mother had been sick and unable to take
him to piano lessons but he was still practicing. “Miss Hondorf . . I’ve
just got to play!” he insisted.

I don’t know what led me to allow him to play in the recital. Maybe
it was his persistence or maybe it was something inside of me saying
that it would be all right. The night for the recital came. The high
school gymnasium was packed with parents, friends and relatives. I put
Robby up last in the program before I was to come up and thank all the
students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any damage he
would do would come at the end of the program and I could always salvage
his poor performance through my “curtain closer.”

Well, the recital went off without a hitch. The students had been
practicing and it showed. Then Robby came up on stage. His clothes
were wrinkled and his hair looked like he’d run an eggbeater through it.
“Why didn’t he dress up like the other students?” I thought. “Why
didn’t his mother at least make him comb his hair for this special
night?”

Robby pulled out the piano bench and he began. I was surprised when
he announced that he had chosen Mozart’s Concerto #21 in C Major. I was
not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light on the
keys, they even danced nimbly on the ivories. He went from pianissimo to
fortissimo. From allegro to virtuoso. His suspended chords that
Mozart demands were Magnificent! Never had I heard Mozart played so well by people his
age. After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo and
everyone was on their feet in wild applause.

Overcome and in tears I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby
in joy. “I’ve never heard you play like that Robby! How’d you do it? “
Through the microphone Robby explained: “Well Miss Hondorf . .
remember I told you my Mom was sick? Well, actually she had cancer and passed
away this morning. And well . . . she was born deaf so tonight was
the first time she ever heard me play. I wanted to make it special.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from
Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed into foster
care, noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought to
myself how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil.

No, I’ve never had a prodigy but that night I became a prodigy. . .
of Robby’s. He was the teacher and I was the pupil For it is he that
taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in
yourself and maybe even taking a chance in someone and you don’t
know why.

Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah
Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995.