[old.wp] A Day with juRo

[OLD POST] Date: 02.08.2010 | Navigate to the original post here.

lifeGraph –  02.06.10

It was quite a small room, about the size of a usual college classroom. There I found myself in front of people, eyes closed, lips forming smiles, seemingly stricken with peace and serenity. I heard the strings of my guitar resonate in the silence-filled air. I asked myself, “Is it my guitar that’s made them so quiet?” For a moment I thought I was alone. I was wrong. I heard a voice –a very sweet one, sing a melody in accord with the chords I was playing on my guitar. I looked to my right, and there she was, clothed with a crimson dress. Adorned with a silver lace on her neck and an elegant ring on her left hand; what a beauty to behold.
No, not the dress, nor the necklace, nor the ring, but her face, radiant not only because of the spotlight aimed at her, but more so because of her beauty. Her eyes met mine, and in that mere glimpse of her, I knew we had a connection. I felt a smile form on my face, and saw her smile back at me. “Gorgeous,” is the word that came into my mind. Smoke breezed onto the stage, and everything blurred away, all the people were gone. For a moment we were alone, and we looked each other in the eyes. A distinct sound pierced through the silence, and as it did, darkness filled my vision. She was fading away! I tried to reach for her hand but to no avail; everything was vanishing much too fast.

I opened my eyes and a bluish gray wall silently greeted me. Again I heard the same distinct sound behind me. I turned around and saw a mysterious looking thing, with lights blinking and tunes pulsing from one of its openings. Having reached for it, I thought it wanted to tell me something, and put it closer to my face. It said, “Alarm! 5:30 am,” and gave two options. First, “Stop,” and the second, “Snooze.” I hit the button for snooze and hurriedly shut my eyes; I wanted to see her again. Alas, all I saw was smoke, and there came the waking sound again. This time, I came to my senses. My humble phone politely told me, “Dude, get up or you’ll be late…again!” A quick glance at my wrist watch and I saw three hands telling me the same thing. One hand tirelessly goes on rotating much quicker than the other two, leaving the shorter hand pinned onto number ‘6’, and the longer one pointed between ‘6’ and ‘7’.

Minutes later, I was in front of a mirror big enough to reflect and image of me from my feet up to, um, my shoulders. After a few minutes of stretching my exercise-lacking body, I was headed to the bathroom. Dressing up followed after I took a rather hurried bath. I was again in front of a mirror, only this was much smaller than the one from a while ago, and reflected a portrait of myself. It was time to put my contact lenses on again. Eye glasses are, in my case, much more practical—it won’t cost you as much time putting on, which could help lessen your minutes of being late for work, school, or whatever else you might be late for.

My watch read 7:35 when I stepped out of the house and began my (almost) daily brisk walking routine to my bus-waiting spot which was about three blocks away. It was 7:40 and I was catching my breath when I arrived at my destination. Today was Saturday, and students at the National High School nearby had no classes. This means significantly less traffic on the street where I was. Fewer vehicles meant less pollution. “Maybe today would turn out to be a good day,” I thought to myself. About four minutes later, I caught sight of an approaching public utility bus. Time check, 7:45; I boarded the bus the way guys in our country do it—have one arm ready to grab a bar on the door of the bus, and one foot ready to swing unto  the bus as soon as you have a grip on that handle bar. No, PUBs here usually won’t come to a complete stop just to let a guy get on board or get off. Another reason for me to think that Saturday would be a good day is that there were seats available. Usually I stand up the whole trip. The driver’s to my left and the (always) open door is where my rightmost parts of my body are aligned. A sudden pass that the bus would make at speeds above 60kph entails a sudden weight shift, and a regular “standing passenger” knows he had better make sure of his grip on whatever he is holding on to, just so he won’t be swinging out the bus and be an early count for road kill.

I set foot on school grounds at around 8:05, and I was a bit late. Fellow cadets in their flight formations are already standing in attention, as I hurried to join them. On the line, I tuck my uniform white shirt in, and tried to catch up on the instructions that have already been announced. A little later, I learned that the next training day, 02.13.10, would be the ROTC Sports Fest. Activities include a drill evaluation, dance competition, tug-of-war, basketball, and the search for Mr. and Ms. ROTC 2010. Drill evaluation seemed quite interesting, though the thought of having an aching back after salutes and marches wasn’t so supportive. Dance competition. I dance. I think. Then again, I’m not so sure about that. Basketball was the sport for me, but that was way back my elementary days, which is more than six years ago. Nowadays my dribble isn’t so much of dribble anymore and my shots are pretty much just a plain throwing of the ball. My stamina is in no way capable of sustaining me through an official ball game, so maybe I’ll pass for basketball. The search for Mr. and Ms. ROTC 2010, however, is an event I will be participating in. I’m not looking to bagging the title though; it will just be a fun thing. I’d rather be a photographer than the one being taken photos of, assuming there’d be people interested enough to do just that. Ha, ha, ha!

Flight leaders want their respective flights to win in the events, of course. Hence, the practice of drills and ceremonies was commenced. Everything was cool in the first few minutes, until extended marching in place and standing in attention took their toll on me. My back hurt, my feet were tired, and I was thirsty. The drills required cadence, and one has got to have rhythm to be able to follow the others. I must say it was quite amusing to see some people who have absolutely no rhythm trying to time their steps in accord with the rest of the flight. I had my left foot down, just like the others, but this one guy had his right foot down. “Man, this dude really has no rhythm at all,” I thought to myself.

“Flight India form,” blurted out 3rd class officer Mam Saran, our flight leader. It turned out we were going to the Audio Visual Theatre to watch some videos. An unpleasant greeting awaited us though, the air smelled like roaches were the residents of the whole floor. Inside the theatre, the air conditioning units did a fine job cooling us down and letting us relax.

For more than an hour, we were able to see a film that seemed to me like a documentary of World War 2 that focused on Philippines. The film started with an explanation of the strategic importance of Coregidor, one of the many islands of the country. It progressed with the attack on Pearl Harbor, and then the Japanese invasion of the Philippines. An honored man known for the words “I shall return,” came into the story as one of the main characters. It turns out he was stationed in Coregidor, but was ordered to leave the Island and make his way to Australia. He left the soldiers in the island with a speech concluded by the aforementioned phrase. The soldiers left fought for the island, but eventually surrendered to the invading troops. Meanwhile, the Allied Forces were mounting up for a counter attack. War machines were prepared. Military bases were established. Plans were made. If memory serves me right, Coregidor was freed from foreign authority three years after the general left the island.

Several more videos were watched, including a documentary of the Philippine Air Force. The chronicles of history were shared to future reservists of the Armed Forces of the Philippines. Other videos that followed were basically showcases of the PAF’s capabilities, and some were invitations to enter the PAF. The videos were quite an eye-opener, because I never knew of the wide range of service that the Air Force was giving to the nation and her citizens until now. I learned that they were the primary defense of the nation. They were also an offensive unit, as evidenced by their involvement in counter-terrorism movements of the military. However, they are not limited to such services, because they also help in time of disaster. They help quell the fire of some sea vessel. They help supply food and rescue survivors of a certain calamity. Indeed, to be a part of a reputable branch of the military is a great honor.

Time check, 11:10 pm

Here I am in front of my laptop, typing this piece since about an hour ago. Complex arrangements of different notes played on different string instruments sound from my earphones. Ah, the sound of the classics is such a comfort to my ears. Pop music of our time is, more often than not, nothing more than a popular arrangement of noise, and chatter. February 6, 2010 started with music. It is only fitting that it ends with the same.

Life is full of choices. You will be remembered not by the choices you wish you made, but by the ones you actually made. [ juRo™ ]