Funny also that I can barely remember my own youth camp experiences back in high school (btw all my youth camps were high school-initiated. I never attended the church youth camps when I was studying). Only fragments remain...such as the awful accommodations we got (the cabin smelled of cat poo cause there was cat poo inside; plus we were expecting rooms with air conditioning but all we got were said filthy cabins and an exposed shower area) and the feeling of being set on fire with the heat coming from within, and then I was taking a plunge to a deep recess that I know I'll never get out off...and then I woke up sweating...
Oh, and I don't remember if it was the same camp or another one from a different year, but it was also during camp when I had my first encounter with a live snake (outside a zoo). It was in the pool that we were all swimming on. One classmate had a tremendous fear of snakes that he freaked out when it was lifted out of the water. And to think I was freestyling-breaststroking-pretending-to-drown with the rest of my classmates with a snake lurking just nearby...
SO. YEAH. YOUTH CAMP. AT TWENTY FIVE. This ought to be interesting...
Oh...this also means that I'm out of the radar (i.e. NO INTERNET HOHMG) from Tuesday until Friday...and probably Saturday too, cause that's enrollment day.
I am back in Manila. I won't be coming back to Laguna tomorrow, or the next day.
I won't be coming there for a while.
Like I said a few posts back, I want to depart from my style of blogging now - which is, well, pretty random and slice-of-life with a kick - to one that is more introspective and journal-like. The way to do this, I guess, is to write more, as in notebook-pen writing. My tendency is when I'm doing the journaling online I get distracted with a lot of stuff that there's absolutely no room to do some real thinking. In one article I read about writing, the author recommended disconnecting your computer from the Internet in order to write. But for me, the fact that I am in front of a computer means instant distraction. If there's no Internet I have my video files, my iTunes, my photos...
Hence, it's time to go back to the roots of writing. The pen is mightier than the sword, so goes the saying, and a sword can definitely do major pwnage on laptops!
Two of my last pictures of very familiar sights in Laguna. The first one is my final sunset, less the sun, and the view of the familiar empty dorm hallway, the first door is the one that led to my room. The second picture is very interesting (to me, at least). I always see maya, but this is the smallest one I've seen in my entire stay, and this was taken on my last day. I was hoping that it wouldn't fly away while the camera was focusing on it, and it didn't. =D Both were taken using Dylan, so excuse the 5MP quality. XD
Here's a transcript of what I wrote during the eve of my last day in Laguna. A lot of things were on my mind then...when I tried processing all these by myself, I became very emotionally charged, and I knew that there was no other way to wrestle with it other than to write it all down.
12 May 2011
This week will mark a major close in this chapter of my life.
A year and a half ago, I became attracted to this idea of independence. I knew I had it in me, it was like a lion prowling, waiting for its prey to come. For the longest time, I felt I was sheltered; many told me that I needed to experience the world, and it's something that cannot be accomplished with being home by 7:00 in the evening.
And just like the lion pouncing on its prey at the right moment, when the opportunity to prove my independence came, I honestly felt that it was calling me by name. It was an adventure that I can own, one that will shape me, one wherein I can prove my independence to the world (or more appropriately, my world), but more importantly, to myself.
Looking back on all of it now, it seems strange that I will be leaving under these circumstances, wondering why I wasn't able to access my full potential just as I was able to do in corporate. I wonder about the words that were said about me, how true they were, how significant was I...
And in the midst of these thoughts, my mind pictures an image of rain suddenly falling, yet it makes a sound so slight, not like how it pounds in the metro. The petrichor always has the aroma of soil and freshly-cut grass. It is never like this back home.
I wonder back to the time when I braved a storm on my own for the first time.
Floodwater on the second floor creeping into my room, wind pounding on the roof, adrenaline rushing through me. There would be no sleep for the resilient.
Snakes, cicadas, geckos, flies, ants, termites, moths, the occasional (surprise!) cockroach...
I wonder, in spite of all the losses and failures, if I have gained that which was the primary purpose of my coming. Independence.
Cooking my own food.
Buying my own groceries.
Ironing my clothes, and sending some to the laundromat the week after next.
Braving the commute every Monday morning and Friday afternoon.
Being on my own for a year and a half, in a place not too far from home, but in essence was far from the home that I know has stretched my limits, and through the stretching, I have become better than I was.
Or so I'd like to think.
But in this battle to gain independence, I know that I emerged victorious. It's strange though to be saying goodbye to all this. I know I will not come back [for a long time], but a part of me will always be at home with this place - a sanctuary for birds whose species I do not know; for a host of trees and foliage that the mere of sight of them overwhelms me; the majestic pose of the Founder, his hand beckoning all to heed his call evermore...
But my real sanctuary is, and has always been, Manila.
Where the pollution is a pressing problem.
Where there are more buildings than trees.
Where there is more pavement than grass.
This will always be home, regardless of its faults.
And home is calling me back.
Tomorrow, I finally heed her call.
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