Floating Through the Coat

Charmed by the splendor of a heavenly majesty, I had almost escaped from reality. It was euphorically enticing... a journey to the celestial heavens. I'm sure it was not a new version of Virgin Mary's Assumption. But I looked for Athena, Aphrodite, and Hera, thinking that I am Helen. Who will blame me then? Have you encountered the Paris of your life?

My little angel whose name is KULASA got sick and I was infected as well. But I forced my self to work. This is how I grew up. I created mechanisms. I divert my self to other things instead of thinking of my miseries. I can still remember that when I was still a kid, I pretended as if I had no fever so that I will not be grounded by my mom. Practicing the same culture until now, I don't mind bodypains, flu, and fever; and I still continue working. But when sunset comes, my body cries for rest.

I don't blame my little contagious angel for this malady. Even if she was the source of negative energies pulling me to hell, I love her and will always be here for her welfare. Enough about this thought! The point is... I felt so down not only because of the viruses, but also because of the venomous mystery which I had mentioned in my first blog.

I thought then of saying goodbye to the epicenter of my heart; it adds burden to my shoulders, breaking the wings of my soul. As if, there had been us to end for! And so, I commanded the modern messenger to send... "Sige magkalimtanay nata... Goodbye!" I received a quick reply trying to locate me. For formality, curiosity, and test purposes, I gave my exact location so we can formally end everything.

And the angel fell from the heavens. Before the arrival, I prepared a farewell speech. But as the angel appeared, I had forgotten my negative emotions... No more words to nag, only words of adoration that can't be uttered... No more strength to slap, but strength to move on... No more eyes to condemn, but blinded eyes thinking of paradise... Then, I found my lips trembling in saying, "Are you from here?" And the angel replied, "I am now here for you..."

It was more than magical. I suggest to the Filipino People to pray for the precipitation of LOVE in the entire archipelago as to resolve the conflicts. Just imagine how I had forgotten my speech... For LOVE can soften a diamond heart... I became submissive... and I learned to FORGIVE!

Fascinated and enchanted, I opened the eyes of the heavenly creature to my camp. We went then to my favorite sanctuary located in the heart of the city. While flying, the angel noticed my daring dress that may trigger witches around to harm us; not even healthy for the condition of my body temperature. Never did I think of my fever, but the angel did...

Arms as white as rain touched my shoulders; covering me with coat. I was floating that time; flabbergasted with the positive energies that came into my horizon. Indeed, life is like an equation... It maintains equality. The weight of negative energies from my little angel that made me feel so down had been balanced by the positive energies that relieved me through the coat of another angel.

While still floating through the coat with the tender warmth of an angel's arms, wine and songbirds conquered the atmosphere. Then, we talked how angels fall, love and live. I talked about tomorrow and sang the rhythm for an angel.

I call my self Helen while the angel is Paris. I hope my friends will become Hera, Aphrodite, Athena, Hercules and Achilles. We are cognizant of the eyes and ears of Troy and Sparta. They are the world... But the most important thing is that we have seen life through love... enough strength for us to build another world!

About "Menardo's Corner"

Menardo's Corner had been a regular column of the Voice Publication- The Official School Publication of Notre Dame of Dadiangas University since September 2003 until School Year 2005-2006. This column of mine paved the way for me to win the hearts of many Dameans in the campus for it artistically published due criticisms and appreciations to administrators, teachers, systems, activities and student leaders in adherence to students' rights, interests and welfare. Along the way, I gained friends and encountered critics and enemies. I also lost friends and experienced a lot of contradictions. Anyhow, I learned and they learned, too.

I'm thankful for Ms. Angeli Benette Pidut for being my first Editor-in-Chief. She triggered my passion to write and I was able to bring out the best in me. I didn't follow the standards in journalism for I made my own poetic style which is so witty, humorous, stingy, deep and substantial. I recognize also my two E-I-Cs during School Years 2004-2005 and 2005-2006- Ms. Mary Ann Baido and Mr. Eric Gerard Nebran. Of course, too many Voice People inspired me like Beverly Anne Santos, Jarold Rosima, Sheryl Pedroso, Joric Jan Into, Sheryl Ocampo, Michael Angelo Collina, Charles Cadorna, Virgilio Hiponia, Daryl Panerio, Mark Tan, Patrichs Garcia, Allan Apsay, Nerlyn Grace Flora, Cliden Jane Pelias, and my special friend Ms. Zea Raiza Pidut.

I can never forget the culprit behind the concept of my column- Ms. Geraldine Galit. After I made articles, conceptualizing title had been the usual problem. But it was really Gek-Gek who suggested that my regular column should be named "Menardo's Corner". Lastly, no words can suffice how thankful I am for having advisers who enlightened me in finding not only the path of journalism and leadership, but also my humanness, heart and soul- the cool and passionate-Ms. Marites Esteva and the powerful and genius-Ms. Karen Epe.

Time passed and situations changed. I can no longer bring back the time when I write for Menardo's Corner. But I'm sure this page in honor to my previous column, will hopefully make the same music for readers; and most of all, a venue for learning and sharing things for friends, comrades and students.

This page will be molded according to my creativity and emotions. When I will feel so bored and stagnated, I will be posting blogs to keep me busy, practice my skills and share my ideas which may be brilliant, stupid, weird or entertaining. Also, this page will be the outlet for my emotions. If I will be conquered by extreme happiness, loneliness, emptiness or triumphant victory, this page will be my sanctuary, refuge, and beacon.

Call it... Menardo's Corner...

Have a blessed day ahead!

The Reincarnation of Menard's Pen

"Life they say is full of mysteries... It is from God- the Mysterious One."

I think that it is the reason why when I face a new horizon in my life, I feel like groping in a limbo of confusion... afraid to stumble and fall. But with faith and optimism, I'm enthusiastic to journey the arena of life... go, explore, discover, and live with the meaningful treasures... transcending the unfathomable mysteries of life...

Being the Associate Editor for External Affairs of the Voice Publication of Notre Dame of Dadiangas College (now University) in School Year 2005-2006, I worked with the Director of Student Affairs- Ms. Marites Esteva whom I consider my sister, friend, adviser, listener and mom. When I submitted a letter to her involving the name of a certain administrator, she said "Menard, mali ang spelling ng name ni..." Then, I told her " Ma'am puedi e-change ko using correction fluid and handwritten nalang?" She replied, "Ok lang man, pero puedi iba lang ang magsulat?" I smiled... I knew then since Grade 1 that my penmanship is bad! Discrimination to my handwriting isn't a new story anymore! Perhaps, only Zea Raiza Pidut appreciates my chirography. She says, "Meng, hindi naman pangit ang penmanship mo... The right term for it is ARTISTIC!" I still don't know until now if it was just my friend's way of comforting me or another way to insult me. Anyway, I love ZEA!

As I grew up, I had seen the contradictions on earth. So, I grew up also believing that my bad penmanship could be turned into a positive factor for my existence. This faith somehow turned into fate... Perhaps, when I thought of it, a star decided to fall just to make it happen.

I started writing during high school. I composed poems dedicated to my crushes. Aside from it, I had been requested to make orations and scripts for stage plays, masters of ceremonies and the likes. This was not just a passion but mainly an outlet of my mysterious emotions under the excruciating curse of identity crisis. Also, this had been my outlet as an orphaned child at the age of 14. In solitude, I had been drinking coffee all night long while enjoying the art of writing poems and other literary pieces.

When I was in college, writing became not only an outlet and passion, but also a responsibility. I actively played important roles in the official student publication of the school. We call it opportunity, power, prestige, fame, leadership, advocacies... we call it the VOICE! Writing then was more than just passion. Our slogan which is from CEGP even says, "To write is already to choose." It was all about responsibility to respond to the challenges, concerns and events in the school, the entire country and the world. It was so meaningful then... thinking that a writer is an agent of social transformation by affecting positive change from a small community going into a wider world.

My pen died as my attachment to responsibility faded. I'm not anymore part of any publication. I'm an educator... molding lives... building futures. My profession is equally important and meaningful. Yet, my passion to write is still in my nerves. I don't have much time for writing anymore. If I will be composing articles, I would rather rest and wake up as a cool teacher tomorrow.

But now, I have to write and I need to write because I'm infected by a venomous mystery called LOVE. My friends call it insanity! But then, if love is insanity, who is still sane at this very moment!? I would rather define LOVE as a state of thermodynamic equilibrium. That is how Miriam Defensor Santiago defined DEATH. Yup... I just have equated love into death. I'm suffering right now and I call myself pathetic. But this is a different death! I die each day because I allow myself to suffer such premature death in exchange for its magical effect... the tingling sensation in my spine...

But who can and will understand me! I am enmeshed into a primitive society practicing unjust culture. The people here have no brain cells for the rhythm of my heart. Definitely, they have barbaric ways of defining happiness and love. However, I'm still thankful for some who have tolerance for my music. Perhaps, when there was a precipitation of this kind of love, it penetrated their veins.

And that makes me sick. But it makes me happy as well... The person who can make me happy is the same person who can inflict pain in my terrestrial existence. And it goes on each day. I smile, feel excitement, and become sad. Worst thing, it makes me alive 24 hours. Love infects me more than drugs do.

Really speaking, because of love, my pen is reincarnated. The cycle is back again. My passion to write is burning again. It is not about responsibility. It is about healing my poor soul with aching heart enmeshed under a primitive culture.

This is the new birth of my pen.