History

A recent travel to Cebu has gotten me tweaking my memory about Miguel Lopez de Legazpi and Ferdinand Magellan. Yes, they were the conquistadors who dared the unchartered seas to find this wee group of islands yet to be called the Philippines. And they got me wanting to reopen my history books and revisit those long forgotten chapters.

A few months back, I was reading a fictional novel loosely based on the events leading to the fall of the Romanov and Austro-Hungarian Empires. More than being enamored by the grandeur of the royal lifestyles then, I vaguely remember my college world history professor (help me out here, fellow Ateneans, he’s the guy who wore red-tinged spectacles who always had an umbrella with him)that those events were triggered by the assassination of the Austrian heir to the throne, Franz Ferdinand.

I have never been good at history class. Blame it on years of having to copy down information from a textbook to a color-coded composition pad just so it could be submitted, checked and graded by my high school teacher. Nothing like sore fingers and blurry book prints to kill my enthusiasm for things past.

But lately I have been feeling the itch to read history again. Perhaps away from the pressure of having to memorize those names and dates and events will allow me to understand the intrigues of early Philippine culture, or the dynamics of the two world wars And maybe I can venture to reread those two great novels, Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo. Yes, but maybe I would pick their English translations. The Filipino versions remind me of the way our Filipino teacher had us go through these required readings. She had us presenting the chapters through drama skits, puppet and shadow shows, and even make-believe radio programs, all because she was too lazy to make us understand the underlying meanings of the novels. So I ended up having a very shallow understanding of what Dona Victorina, Sisa and Maria Clara stood for. And a healthy distaste for shadow shows.

I find myself intrigued and very much enticed to read history again. Without the red and blue ink markings, without the purple notebook cover, without the sniggering puppet in the background. So get ready Ferdinand Magellan and Crisostomo Ibarra, you just might meet me again one of these days.

Mediocre

I am one of the thousands of men and women approaching middle age and yes, I feel like I am drowning in the vastness of anonymity. The past few years have been spent in making myself as unnoticeable as possible. It probably began in medical school, when I strove to be hidden to avoid being singled out and called to recite in front of the class. Some of the time I did know the answer, I just did not want to stand out, did not want my voice heard, did not want my name known. I wanted to be in the middle of everyone, neither the girl whose brilliance outshone everyone, nor the one whose dullness made others shine.
Yes, I made it a point to be mediocre and it is slowly killing me. Like a leaf blown by the wind, I have let myself be brought to directions not of my own choosing, because I did not have desire to blaze my own path. Not that I have not been making decisions on my own entirely, I still did make those major choices in my life: to be a doctor, to be a wife, to be a mother, but lately I have noted that on the day to day hustle and bustle , I made myself too engrossed with making a living that I have neglected to live. Yes, like most thirtysomethings today, I have buried the once-was diamond in the rough within me with the coals of work and labor.
But no more. I no longer want to be in this place, the middle of nowhere, the middle of nothing, to be known as no one. I want to stand out, I want to be noticed, I want to be me. Seizing the day might be the cry of a younger generation just about to start their lives, but it is also my cry, the cry of a person who no longer wishes life to pass me by. I will no longer be satisfied with making do with what I have and letting others take the lead. I am me. I am special. I have the power to make a difference. And I will make the difference.
Mediocre. No more. I will make you notice me. I will have your attention. I will live.