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My Three Hundred Reasons Why I Won’t Quit Hell Week

(part 2)

151.        I love her more and more each passing day, so kaya ra ang Hell Week

152.        Karon pa ko mu quit hapit na mahuman! Buang!

153.        I want to know if Sharon could make me do something really humiliating

154.        She was sick when we started this Hell Week; I want her to be Hell-thy again (nye!)

155.        I want to get something for Christmas man gud, and if I quit, mag-away mi, or dissatisfied sya, wala ko’y madawatan

156.        I’d learn self control kung mapikon na gyud ko

157.        It gives me an excuse to wear a beret

158.        Idol man gud nako si Che Guevarra (but Joros looks more like him, di ba?)

159.        I’m actually setting her up na makonsensya siya when all of this is over, kay nagbinut-an man gyud ko

160.        Pag makonsensya na gyud sya og ayo, o maluoy na siya sa ako, o, mas dali ra gyud siya ma-in love sa akoa!

161.        If she falls in love with me, ay heaven gyud, bisan Hell Week pa nga 7 times more!

162.        Hehehe, karon ra gyud ko na nakadeskarte og ayo (I know I’d regret having put this in, but joker man gud, sayang kung dili iapil)

163.        Therapy man pud diay sa akoa, labi na kung makita nako siya nga mukatawa o mupahiyom

164.        It gives me an excuse to be near her constantly (and get to hear her sneeze; mura gyud og iro!)

165.        It enhances my skills at provocation without getting out of bounds

166.        Basin pa diay, tungod ani, maka-crush pud siya sa akoa

167.        It sharpens my typing skills

168.        It gives me an excuse to use the computer

169.        It will give my friends a reason to view my Friendster profile and read my blog

170.        Makapadako sa akong braso

171.        Makaugnat sa akong kusog

172.        Makainat sa akong pasensya

173.        I’d learn how to cook ube jam (patay ka Abel! Bitaw, a new type of ube man gud ang gamiton nako. I already know how to cook it…I think)

174.        Pila na kaha ang among moments to remember tungod ani…

175.        Because, whenever she’s near me, my heart sings (ang title sa kanta kay “Jezebel”. Di bitaw, “Love of a Lifetime”, “When I See You Smile”, ug “Unwell”, promise!)

176.        Daghang photo opportunity

177.        Sikat ko tungod sa chika chika nila! Feeling artista!

178.        Makapuga sa utok, dili mag atrophy

179.        I’d get to be acquainted with the unvarying cuisine of the eateries near her boarding house

180.        Benign tachycardia

181.        Ever since Hell Week, paspas na ko mu-type

182.        Ever since Hell Week, maayo na ko magbinutbot

183.        Ever since Hell Week, mas nahimo kong mainampu-on

184.        Ate Bebie (she sells cellphone load) is getting rich

185.        Hadlok ko makasuhan, dayon ang akong best friend nga lawyer pa gyud ang kwa’on ni Sharon, intawon, pildi gyud!

186.        Boring man kung dili palisdun

187.        Adrenalin junkie man gud ko

188.        It’s good for my urinary system (pirme man ko maka-ihi sa tension, so dili ko magka-UTI)

189.        It’s good for my heart (tachycardia)

190.        It gives me a reason to walk

191.        Walking with your bestest best friend is very nice

192.        However, if we’d walk while holding hands (pa-swing swing pa), kana ang pinaka-maayo. Busa gapadayon ko kay basin pa diay…

193.        I’ve made friends na sa fruit vendors sa Bulua

194.        It enhances my reasoning skills (kay mu-explikar man gyud ngano dili pwede buhaton ang usa ka butang)

195.        Tungod ani, I’ve realized Sharon needs to do things her way. That’s very, very important!

196.        Gakasuya na sa akoa ang uban namong classmates na lalake

197.        I’ve gotten the chance to cook chicken curry na red

198.        Hapit na ang Christmas party, hadlok ko ma-evict sa bahay ne koya

199.        Gakalingaw ko ni Sharon ug sa iyang mga ideas

200.        One week ra man pud bitaw

201.        After all this, maybe she’d draw me another of her sketches, hatagan dayon ko ug note

202.        I’d get to listen to “Sa Kanya” by MYMP and laugh

203.        Being in love with your best friend is so wonderful

204.        She’d get to sing me something after all this, agi pahalipay og paghupay sa akong kahago bunga sa mga butang nga iyang gipabuhat kanako

205.        I think I’m obsessive: kinahanglan tiwason ang gisugdan.

206.        I don’t like to put in: “Reasons for quitting: NAHADLOK”

207.        It gives me an excuse to salute her

208.        It gives me enough time to verify nga apo ba gyud siya ni Hitler o dili

209.        Tungod ani, I’ve verified nga tsada ang shape sa iyang ulo

210.        Before this, I’ve never been as excited to wake up in the mornings, and never so tired when I go to sleep at night

211.        Tungod ani, ga-agik’ik na ko in my sleep

212.        Makatawa ko’g huna-huna sa “before friendship” and “after friendship” period namo, from being strangers to being the best of friends

213.        Hell Week Friendship Gym

214.        Am I Real? A true friend? Is my love true? This is one way to find out

215.        I can take a good deal more scaring than before

216.        Basic requirement nga magpauto ka from time to time aron mahimo mong best friends

217.        Give and take man ang friendship; after this, ako na pud, bwahahahahahah!

218.        I’m looking forward to the time na si Sharon na pud akong ipaluto og chicken curry, but this time, blue ang sauce!

219.        No fear

220.        Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy

221.        Naklaro na gyud nako nga in-love ko ni Sharon (kanang in-love nga AS IN!) kay wala man nabag-o akong pagtan’aw sa iyaha bisan wa siya’y ligo, gaubuha, ug gihupong ang mata

222.        Ginadumdom nako kanunay ang what happened sa Friday, December 9, 2005. If I quit, mawala ang magic and meaning

223.        Pareho ra man gud mi nga walay buot

224.        Lahi ra gyud ning mga Baula, dili magpapildi

225.        Matod pa sa akong Ate Lydia, magpugas aron nay ma-ani!

226.        No pain, no gain

227.        No guts, no glory

228.        No ID, no entry

229.        No blowing of horn

230.        No other person in this world gives me greater satisfaction in doing drudgery for (nadaot ang grammar da!)

231.        I see the light at the end of the tunnel na man gud. Dili tungod kay kamatyonon ko ha!

232.        She is my sister in faith, ug dapat “submit to one another” man gud. Bahala one-sided pa karon, mabalanse ra kana eventually

233.        Hadlok sya nga kontra kay natudluan na nako siya unsaon pagsumbag

234.        Pirme na hinuon mi uban panihapon tungod ani, usahay malibrehan pa gyud!

235.        Comfortable na mi with each other, dili na conscious (char!), tungod ani

236.        I could’ve sworn natubuan ko’g buhok!!! Tungod tingali sa kalo

237.        Kining gugma lagi makabuang

238.        No riches in the world could buy the friendship that I have with her now

239.        All the gold in the world could be melted down, and it would only be gold plating compared to the friendship that I have with her now

240.        Gahulat ra ko sa panahon nga kantahan ko niya og love song

241.        Pakals man pud gud sa Friendship Day

242.        Basta in love, grabe ang energy

243.        Basta in love, grabe ang courage

244.        Basta in love, grabe ang humility

245.        Basta in love, grabe ang pagka-dense

246.        Corny ang love story sa uban kung ikumpara sa atoa. Kini gyud tsada, naa pa’y Hell Week!

247.        Seven is such a lovely number

248.        Take 0.25 kg of airborne ube, peel and cube, boil till soft. Mash, mix in condensed milk, cook over low heat in a carajay, taking care not to let your copious sweat drip into the mixture, and let cool. Give to Abel because Jesse loves Sharon so much

249.        Because of this, even the lowly ube makes me smile

250.        There’s sunshine even at night because of this

251.        I’m sure she’d miss me this Christmas because of this. Amiiinnnnniiiiin!!!

252.        Nothing would give me greater satisfaction than hearing her say “Well done!”, except, perhaps, she telling me “I really love you” or her telling our children “Be like your father” or our grandchildren “Your lolo is my best friend”, or our great grandchildren “Oy, palihug, ayaw na ninyo siya ipatumbling, tigwang na intawon kanang inyong Tatay Boy!”

253.        With her, La Vita E Bella!

254.        I’ve never played truant before with anybody else and enjoyed it as immensely as with her

255.        Adik ko ni Sharon

256.        She is like URTI: she leaves me breathless

257.        Now, I couldn’t imagine my life without her

258.        Iron sharpens iron

259.        She had begun a symphony in my life, and I would like to see her finish it in me, with me

260.        After this, I could take a lot more scaring, but I thing magpakurat-kurat ko aron mautrohan. Dili lang deretso, aron dili pangka

261.        I’d like to know her favorite songs man gud

262.        Gusto nako ang chance nga maka-karaoke ko and sing the songs that she would like me to sing for her, and do it before the entire class. Hint for a task! hehehe

263.        I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her, I really love her (each time, lahi ang pag-pronounce, kay lahi-lahi man ang permutations of love)

264.        Walay dili makaya tungod kay para ni sa iya

265.        Dili nako makaya nga makita siyang gahilaka o maguol. Dili gani nako gusto nga makita siya nga gauboha!

266.        I’d like the chance nga magtan-aw mi og Kung Pow, Orange County, and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, together, kami lang

267.        I’d like the chance to watch a sunrise from a mountain peak with her

268.        I’d like the chance to go scuba diving with her

269.        I’d like the chance to go jamming with her, puli-puli mi mag lead

270.        I’d like to sing “Hey, little, devil, I’m gonna make an angel out of youuuuuuuu!” after sa Hell Week

271.        I’d like to get to sing “Especially For You” for her isip presentation sa usa ka Med Council activity

272.        I’d like to hear her introduce me to her friends as “Si Bullets, akong B.F.” and she’d mean it both as “best friend” AND “love of my life”

273.        I need someone with a head for details, kay impiyerno gyud kana sa ako

274.        Because, matod pa ni John Meyer, “I’m tired of being alone…”

275.        I’d want to sing a love song for someone

276.        I believe in “Semper Fi “ sa Marines

277.        I’d like the chance to watch war movies with her again (wala na since “The Great Raid”)

278.        Whenever I’m exhausted, all I had to do is look into her eyes, and take comfort in the fact nga mas gikapoy pa gyud siya kaysa sa akoa

279.        I’d like the chance to teach her some arnis moves

280.        I’m at peace whenever we are together, just sitting, not talking, contented with each other’s company, like when we watched  the same twilight sky that was colored by the Hand of God.

281.        I can’t help but smile whenever I see her look at me, and pirme ni gakahitabo kung Hell Week

282.        Basin pa diay, after all this, a kiss…

283.        Kung mag-uban mi, “Beauty and Madness”; siya si “Beauty”, ako ang “Madness”. Tungod gyud ni sa Hell Week

284.        Dili ko muback-out, kay dili nako makaya ang Hell Lifetime

285.        Siya man gud ang gusto nakong makauban nga ma-shipwreck sa desert island. All I had to do is tie a rope on her and she could swim us out towards the nearest inhabited island

286.        Kung senior clerks na mi, it’s gonna be hell. Practice makes perfect

287.        Kung PGI na mi, hell gihapon ang pagprepare for the board exam, and I need her help

288.        Kung doctors na mi, hell ang paperwork…paspas ko mu-type, and organized sya mag-note taking, so dapat partners mi

289.        What kind of fool would pass up the chance to be with her, Hell Week or not?

290.        After seven days of torture, rest. And happiness.

291.        Matod pa sa kanta sa Side A, “You are/perfect…”

292.        Tyranny can never last. Mabuhay ang Pilipinas! Mabuhay ang Pilipinas!

293.        I’d like for her to teach me how to play “So Slow”

294.        I’d like to teach her how to cook. We’d start with the proper technique for boiling water

295.        Tsada ang iyang stethoscope, ug gusto ko muhulam kung kinahanglan nako

296.        Tsada ang iyang notes, ug gusto ko makagamit, especially during sa pagstudy para sa board exam

297.        Kaya man gud nako magbilar kung kauban siya

298.        Best friends gud; she ain’t heavy, she’s my brother (nye!)

299.        At this point, if I were to lose her, I don’t know if I could take it

300.        She is the reason, my all in all, why I’m willing to undergo anything (but, of course, I’d negotiate for better terms, kay dili lang baya pud ko doormat, heheheh!). It has been quite hard so far, but it has really been fun. I am a proud person by nature (a trait that is truly Baula, and I think is a congenital defect among Ilocanos), but I’d swallow it if it really would make her happy. To see her smile is heaven. To hear her laugh is to hear angels sing. So far, during Hell Week, she’s been happy. And that is enough for me. I’d like to make you happy, Sharon May D. Erasquin, even if it would mean that I’d be your slave for a week. I draw the line at handbags, lipstick, and high heels, but if you could convince me to wear them, I’d do it. I trust that you won’t  do it out of malicious intent. I want to make you happy, Myatz. I love you very much. And that is why I won’t back out of Hell Week. Because we are friends forever.

PROLOGUE (December 8, 2005)

     I’ve first heard about Hell Week from my war buff friend. This is the time when Navy SEALS in training were subjected to seven days of food deprivation, physical exhaustion, and sleep-deprivation. Live rounds are used during training exercises, so the risk of injury or death is significant. It is said that, by day 4, the recruits start hallucinating. And these are seasoned soldiers, among the best in their units, selected for their aptitude, courage, and endurance. Nevertheless, about 30 percent never make it. Perhaps the most famous drop-out is Timothy McVeigh, a decorated Desert Storm veteran but was sentenced to die for bombing a building containing an ATF federal office and a day care center.

     I’m about to enter my personal Hell Week, and I hope I won’t go the way of psychopathic has-beens who washed out during training. My Hell Week shall test my endurance, creativity, and, perhaps, even my culinary skills. It shall be seven days of humility. And the most depressing point about the whole thing is that it’s all of my own making.

     This is how it all began: December 6, 2005, Sharon and I were studying at Dunkin’ Donuts. Past midnight, we’ve had enough of The Genetics of Albinism, the Pathophysiology of Diabetes Mellitus, and Mechanism of Action of Sulfonylureas, so we’ve decided to take a break. And that was the beginning of the end. That was when Hell Week came to be.

     Sharon is a med school classmate, the love of my life, and we’ve just become best buddies. At that time during our break, our talk got around to personal fears. I told her (boasted, really) that I don’t scare easily. She said that the people who tried to startle me were probably not creative enough, or didn’t really know me that well enough to manipulate my fears against me. “I do not think that you could startle me. Even my sister couldn’t. You’ll never give me a fright,” I told her. “You really think so?” “I’ll be your slave for a week if you could startle me in any way. “ “I want that in writing.” So she gave me a piece of paper, and I wrote the terms of the agreement for what was going to be called “Hell Week”.

     Among other things, if she were to be successful at her first attempt or could make me cry, I was to cook chicken curry (with red sauce!), and I was to butcher the chicken myself. I was to be at her beck and call for seven days. And I was not to complain during the entire exercise. However, if she fails, she was to take me out for snacks. Furthermore, if I turned the tables on her and SHE was the one who got a shock while trying to startle me, I get to choose another friend to take along, and she now has to provide snacks for two people instead of just for me.

     The agreement was good for a year. After she had checked the agreement and we’ve put both our signatures, I gave it to her for safekeeping. We sat for a while, just grinning. She had a look about her that I could not describe at that time. I just knew that she looked really beautiful, smiling impishly. It was just later that it struck me: she looked smug. That should’ve been a warning. As it was, I was really confident that she, who feared ghosts and cockroaches, who cringe at shadows and scary stories, will never succeed.

     But hubris does not go unpunished. Nemesis struck when I was unaware. Before I continue, let me state that I was without sleep for more than 30 hours, was running on caffeine and adrenaline, and was at my most vulnerable. I was not in my best condition. Had I been otherwise, the thing that happened afterwards wouldn’t have had happened. But, December 7, 2005, some 12 hours after we signed the agreement, the end came.

     Sharon and I were having snacks. She had tempura. December 7, American time. Tempura. Japanese food. The anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor. That should’ve sounded off alarm bells, but it didn’t.

     A thing about the paper plates where the vendors put the tempura in: they are really tiny. And handling the toothpicks (with which one spears the tempura in lieu of a fork) are quite tricky. As it was, Sharon had some difficulty handling her food. A tempura slid off her plate, nearly falling off. She gave a startled yell. I turned, and said something really stupid: “Kurata nako oy!”

     That was that. Without much effort, without intending to, she succeeded. And, with that, Hell Week was put into operation. Read on!

Basic Requirements

1. I was to answer roll (magreport through text) every 7 A.M. (yep, it’s a special number to us)

2. I was to salute her every time we meet, and every time we part for the day

3. I was to wear a military hat (it was good I found my brother’s beret) at all times, except during classes and when I’m in the library

4. I was to go to her and report every 11 A.M., unless it very inconvenient to do so or she wishes us to meet at another time.

DAY 1 (Saturday, December 10, 2005) “Normal Turns Paranormal” 

Mission: make a Japanese flag; wear a polo, slacks, and black leather shoes; I was also to fulfill the basic requirements (salute, military hat, journal, report at 11 A.M.); Neneth, Nikki, Ivan, Lousyl, and Alexis also had to read my first task card.

     The first day of Hell Week, and it was also our Surgery quiz. This is gonna be tough, I thought. Sharon really plays hardball. I used to watch with pity those poor SAOP and APO plebes being subjected to humiliating exercises while wearing formal clothes. Now, it has suddenly become my turn.

     Let’s do this in the spirit of fun, she had said. Easy for her to say, I thought; after all, she doesn’t have to look like a second-rate VietCong army official who is about to be thrashed by Chuck Norris in a bad B-movie.      

      I was to make a Japanese flag. I gave her that idea, because I mentioned to her that December 8 (in America, December 7) was the anniversary of the raid at Pearl Harbor. The requirements for the tasks, by the way, was that the basic ideas must come from me. It was to teach me to be careful with what I say.

     That day, MJ had perhaps the most extreme reaction, one that Sharon found funny. She gave me a look of distaste and gave me a once-over. Meanwhile, the rest of my classmates, especially my friends whom read the task card, chuckled.

     Pride is the toughest dish to swallow. But it was just starting. I accompanied her to the clinic so that she could get some medicine. When we approached the nurse, she stared at my head. I remembered that I had a beret on, and I automatically reached for it to take it off. However, I caught a glance of Sharon looking at me, and I remembered. So, there I was, hat askew, trying to maintain my composure while the nurse was staring at me like I was some freak. Now, remember, I was wearing a brown polo, black slacks, and nice shoes, while I had this furry, smelly thing on my head.

     Sharon said that I was a fashion disaster. Oh yes, you could bet your Schwartz book that she had a lot of fun that day.

     Later that day, Ivan and the gang decided to have a movie marathon. I told Sharon about it, and she really, really begged to come along. So, she went with us. I asked if it would be okay if I’d wear a balaclava instead of a beret, as it suits my fatigue pants better. I guess she was so happy to be coming with us sa overnight movie marathon that she said YES. Payts! The thing was, we ended up talking and joking and laughing the night off, and ended up watching only one movie. We slept at 4 in the morning. and by the time we woke up at around 7, Sha was running a fever. Oh no, the talks that would come later…

DAY 2 (Sunday, December 11, 2005) “Human Bait”

Mission: Homework ni! I was to make a list of 300 sensible reasons why I should go on with hell week; find 7 Scripture passages on Friendship, Trust, Patience, Humility, Sacrifices, Perseverance, Love; make ube jam for Abel (these to be passed on Monday).

      Sharon woke up with a high fever that day, and we had to take a taxi to her boarding house. We had lots of fun the night before, sure, but now, she had to pay for it with her health. I really felt bad about it. She doesn’t deserve such things.

     When Jhessica and I dropped her off, however, she managed a wan smile (she still looked beautiful). I remembered to salute as we left (part of the requirement), and went to prepare for church. I worried over her the entire morning (not to mention that I really found it hard to keep from nodding off).

     I slept a bit after lunch, intending to do my “homework” later that day, when I woke at around 3 P.M. to the sound of incoming text message. It was my dear Master, and her temperature had risen again. I had to go to be near her.

     On the way (of course, I had to wear my balaclava), I decided to buy her bananas, Gatorade, and paracetamol. Everything was all right until I went to the mini market at Bulua, whereupon the vendor gave me strange looks. I guess I looked like a bank robber. I had hoped for a commando image, but with my gaunt, unshaved appearance, I looked more like a POW.

     I got a reprieve, however, when a woman got on the jeep I was riding, and yelled “They’d never get my nuclear weapon!” in perfect English. She was apparently quite crazy. It was hilarious! People around her immediately gave her a wide berth, and she even managed to disembark without paying. At least, there still are some people that are crazier than I am. After that, nobody minded my fashion sense. Compared to that woman, I was a perfectly sane guy.

     So, finally, I arrive. I did my best to be her personal nurse. Not the wet kind ha. A memorable thing was that her temperature at one point was 37.7. It was also around this time that we noticed that my beret had a number: 7.

     This number kept cropping up, and had become a sort of symbol: 7 days in Hell Week; the terms and conditions drafted on December 7; Friendship Day is scheduled to be at December 17. Sharon, if you’re reading this, remember this date: July 7, 2007. It’s a Saturday, the same day that Hell Week started and shall end. A sign? Heheheh!

     I helped her make a snowman head dress. Her ex’s sister had asked her to do it. He keeps on pestering her with such things. It was getting on her nerves, and mine as well. To give him something to squirm about, I made a point to sit beside Sharon and actually have fun making the thing with her. Well, what happened afterwards is between Sharon and me. Sa kanya pa rin babalik, sigaw, ng damdamin….It was quite funny (especially what happened on Monday), but it’s not for public consumption. Her ex did a number 149, though. If you don’t know what that means, you don’t deserve to know.

DAY 3 (Monday, December 12, 2005) Untitled

Mission: submit homework (done on Sunday); an additional requirement was to provide my Master a copy of a report on the anatomy and histology of the Hypophysis

    I liked her reaction to my first installment of the 300 reasons (nakahangyo kay I was her nurse the previous day, and had little time to complete the task). She laughed and smiled and was happy. That made it worthwhile.

     She still had fever and cough. It was a bummer for her, because she had wanted to really give me a hard (yet fun) time with my tasks. Nursed her the best way that I could. If I could only take half the pain, I would, really. Why not ALL her pain? Aw, ayaw pud, I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid.

     I think it was also around this time that she started making me finish everything on my plate, and not to leave a single grain of rice on it. She could really be strict whenever she puts her mind to it, or maybe it’s just that she’s got a really good handle on me.

DAY 4 (Tuesday, December 13, 2005) Untitled

Mission: Retrieve bag of rubber bands; make final installment of 300 reasons; give Abel his jam 

     Since Sharon was still recuperating, she hadn’t the energy to really give full steam to her creative torturing. Sayang.

     I gave her the second installment of the 300 reasons for not quitting Hell Week and her share of the ube jam. She was surprised (buotan pud diay gihapon) nga nagdala ko for her.

     She had stomach pains (it turned out she took her medicine on an empty stomach), so we bought antacid at the drugstore. This meant that we had to go through the XU main gate, where most of the students would be using.

     Met a lot of strange looks on the way in. The guard nearly gave me a salute, but caught himself, and just cleared his throat.

     We decided to go to the Lucas Hall water fountain so that she could take her antacid. Now, Lucas Hall is where nursing students hang out. Wa gyud nagpalibak: naa si Mama Rica. Bullets, what happened to your head? No, I think I know. Ivan told me. Sharon just stood there, grinning wickedly.

     We would’ve studied at her boarding house, but she felt tired (or maybe it’s just because we finished a whole loaf of bread and a can of liver spread). She was just reclining, looking really wan. Why don’t you sleep, and I’d go. You could study later, I told her. She agreed. I nearly forgot the salute, but she didn’t. Oy, oy, oy!, she warned me. I laughed. Sick or not, she’s still sharp. I saluted, our fists met (our version of the high five), and I was dismissed for the day.

DAY 5 (Wednesday, December 14, 2005) Untitled 

Mission: Take an inventory of the bag of rubber bands Today, we had our final PCS-2 quiz for the year. 

     I reported to her at the library, and we had an early lunch. It was an easy day of Hell Week, considering that all she had wanted me to do was count all the rubber bands. Well, it was quiz day, after all, and everyone was preoccupied with studying.

     I thought that this was going to be a walk in the park. What I hadn’t counted on was the questions people invariably asked. By now, many of our classmates knew what was up, and why I was wearing a beret. But, here I am now, thirty years old, a medical student, segregating this bag of rubber bands by color (guess how many colors? Seven!) and forming them into a chain so that I could more easily count them.

     First year students would come over just to ask. Drex and Ismael grinned when I told them that it’s “Goma Para Sa Gugma” day.

     She had that impish smile again, one that I find really cute (during ordinary days) and really frightening (now, at Hell Week), when she decided upon my task. Oy, maayo imong gidala ang lastiko. Kaybalo na ba ka kung pila…?

     Got dismissed early because she had to buy gifts. Hehehe, that could only mean that she’s got one for me, too. Later in the evening, she texted that my next task would be to make Alexis wear a headband. Now, I warned Alexis that she’d be making me do something like this. He said that headbands make him dizzy, as it constricts his cranial vessels, being that he doesn’t have any hair to absorb some of the tension (I remembered asking him why he didn’t wear one during his badminton matches, and he gave the same reason. It’s just that I forgot). So, I suggested to Sharon that we’d make him wear a band out of crepe paper. Mas maayo, para murag calamay! Had a long laugh over that one.

     I nearly forgot: Broxyl pestered her kung hangtud kanus’a ba gyud ko niya paantuson, among other things. He should be interested: I promised him, Lu-an and others ice cream if ever Sha and I gets to be. There, Sha, no secrets!

DAY 6 (Thursday, December 15, 2005) Untitled 

Mission: Bring her the rubber band chains, bring red crepe paper ribbon for Alexis

And, of course, she made me wear these rubber band chains as a wig. Sic Semper Tyrranis!

While walking to school, I told her that I don’t think it’s good for us to make Alexis to wear a red ribbon around his head. She thought over that one. There was no reply, and I thought that was the end of the matter.

It wasn’t. Later that day, I met Alexis and told him that I need for him to wear the ribbon around his head for a while. No, Sharon told me na IKAW ang musuot. So, that was how I ended up looking like a revolutionary Che Guevarra wannabe. And I wore this bisan sa among Christmas party later that day. I got to take it off when I sang "Ang Bayan Ko". Rebolusyon!!!

Overnight dayon sa ilang Bagas, and photo session dayon! That was the time we had the “Circle of Friends” photo. She was the one who thought up the title, and no other would be more apt. She’s really good!

I almost forgot: she made me keep my mouth shut. She just told me to buy a pad of paper. And she gave me 5 minutes to do it (we were in the library at that time). Five minutes to run up and down 4 flights of stairs and 40 meters? Mygudness, wat did I do to deserve this? Oh, yes, this was all because I made a stupid, stupid bet….

But I managed to negotiate for an extension. I had a reason: I wanted to buy her a sketchpad as a Christmas gift. She loved to doodle, and she seemed most contented when she’s putting pencil to paper, and I’d do anything to make her happy. So down the stairs and out to Ororama I ran, hoping against hope to make the time…

Of course, I didn’t get back on time. And, worse, I finally learned what the pad of paper was for: it was to be my sole means of communicating.

Tabi-an ra kaayo ka, Bullets. This is what I get for teasing her earlier. I had since forgotten what I was kidding her about, but I sure did regret having said those things at that time!

It was hard. And funny. We had lunch at Sugar and Spice, owned by high school classmates of mine who got married. Please don’t be there, please don’t be there… I thought, for it would be hard to explain why, all of a sudden, I’d be not my usual garrulous self with them.

They were there. And they greeted me when they saw me.

I had no choice: I feigned a sore throat, and ordered for us (yep, she told me that I had to order).

It was one of the hardest, because our conversations were what made our friendship really special. We could talk for hours about anything. Having to write things down put a damper on spontaneity and wit. Funny, but I missed her, and we were together the whole time! Evidently, she did, too, because she did not make me keep my mouth shut the whole day.

DAY 7 (Friday, December 16, 2005) Untitled

One day left…freedom is nearing! And I could finally be free of the stupid beret forever! Freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeedommmm!

It was a hectic day, as it would be the last class for the year. It was soooo good of her to let me off the hook on one task: she had wanted me to make a rug out of the rubber bands that I had inventoried and made into a chain (she could be WICKED at times). However, I still had to wear that smelly beret. Not only was I beginning to look like Che Gueavarra, I was also getting to SMELL like him. After when he was executed.

Fridays are often magical, and this was especially so. After we had dinner, we went to MacArthur Park. I didn’t know that they lit the entire place up, and made the obelisk into a sort of a Christmas tree. Everything was so yellow and bright and clean. It was really a magical moment.

This was also the day when we first prayed together. We needed to. At once, that time was happy and heavy.

We left, knowing that our friendship could withstand anything by God’s grace.

After Hell Week, Friendship Day!!! But that’s for another blog.

So, there we were, at Jollibee Xavier, casting about for things to do. It was a day after we went to Taglimao, and we were still "adrenalined" with the past day’s adventure. We were looking for something to expend our excess glucocorticoids, so to speak.

"We" means Keith, Lousyl, Nikki and myself. Lousyl, still suffering from sore feet and an insect bite from the previous day’s adventure; Nikki, her fair skin darkened by the sun; Keith, still groveling because he’s still tired from walking. Me, enjoying their company, but a bit blue because I’m missing someone terribly.

I was only half listening when they were relating the escapades of some of our other classmates who went to this new place. It seemed that Ken, our classmates, drove like a man possessed up the steep road to "High Ridge", which frightened the panties off of some of his passengers. Maybe, they were just exaggerating about his driving, but they did say that the place was "amazing" (it seems to be the most popular adjective among med students. Maybe it’s just the limited vocabulary. Maybe it’s just that I’m too old to be "amazing").

And it was decided. We were going to High Ridge. By motorela, no less.

We only knew that it was just beyond St. Mary’s, but we had no idea how far beyond it was. We only knew that it was "amazing", and we just had to go. Like moths towards a flame, we went.

It turned out that not many people knew where it was. They gave vague directions, but a common theme kept recurring, one that was not very encouraging: "Layo pa man kana!"

And then, confronted by a steep grade, our intreprid motocycle driver had to concede defeat and admit that he could not go further. He pocketed our double fare (and he ASSURED us that he knew where it was and that his trusty magic carpet could take us there) and left us to face the challenge of finding the "amazing" High Ridge.

Picture this: it was already past 5 PM, and it was getting dark really fast. We had little money, even less idea of where we were, and no means of getting anywhere (or, if necessary, out of it) fast. Any sane person would’ve turned around and taken the first ride out.

But, yep, we chose to go uphill. Up the dirt road, no signs to lead us. Just us, with the fading rays of the setting sun to warm us and light the way.

Already, the prospect of being left in the dark, in the middle of nowhere, was getting on the nerves of some of us. Especially Keith. He worries. A lot. It must be genetic. Or it could be just a hobby. Whatever the etiology, he’s really good at it. He worried that it would soon be dark. He worried that the house just beyond that bend was haunted. He worried about the two dogs that were eyeing us balefully. And he worried that we were going the wrong way.

But onward we went. Uphill, a step at a time, our chins meeting our knees. "Hi, there, have we met before? I’m Left Knee, and my twin’s just about to come up! Gotta go, bye!" "Hi, I’m Chin. Don’t worry about that long, pink, wet thing. It’s just my friend, Tongue."

Just beyond that bend. Look, a woman. We ask for directions, and continued, encouraged by her report that it’s near.

Onward. Just beyond that bend. "Hey, look at that view! That’s SM! Wow!" And, of course, "Amaaaaazing!" Just a few more paces, and we smelled meat grilling. Mmmmmmm. And we quickened our pace.

Finally, in the dim light, Lousyl made out the letters that spelled out "R-I-D-G-E". Considering that it was already nearly 6 PM, that we were still a good fifty paces away, and that the letters were black, I’d say that she has very good eyesight.

And the place was amazing! We had arrived with perfect timing, just when every building below was turning its lights on. It seemed that we were seeing the city in the process of putting on jewelry. Just beautiful. I was speechless for most of the time we were there (a rare occurrence, mind you). Maybe it was just that the cool breeze was so hypnotic. Maybe it was just I missed someone a bit more, and really wished that she was there to see what we were seeing then.

Never mind that we had barely enough for hotdogs and iced tea. Never mind that we walked a kilometer, most of it uphill. Never mind that we had to approach the owner of the place for help in contacting a taxi so that we could get home. The place was AMAZING.

I’m coming back there.

     Ever since I shot my first picture with a Kodak instamatic, the ones that required a magnesium flash cube, I was hooked on photography. To be sure, it was the explosion of light that attracted me, and not the craft itself, but it sparked the beginning of a passion.

     My first real camera was an Olympus OM-2. It was a marvel, even though it was second-hand, had no shutter control, and still smelled of the sweat of its former lovers. Looking through its viewfinder, trying hard to focus, holding it against my face, I was an apprentice to wonderful magic: capturing light on paper.

     It was frustrating, that craft. Many a moment passed unrecorded. Many a frame got burned, overexposed; I once shot an entire 36-frame roll of film and managed to get 2 shots. Another time, I forgot to put in film. Oh, an exacting taskmistress she was. Oh, what a clumsy student, me.

     And then, my mistakes bore fruit. One good photograph followed another, and yet another. By that time, I had access to a Canon and a Nikon (and virtually unlimited film). I began to bring out, on glossy paper, the emotions that I saw with my heart. One instance comes to mind: a photograph of my enamorata as she was reading  a letter that I just gave her, taken at THE exact moment when she smiled. Well, things didn’t turn out well in the long run, but that’s for another blog…

     Save for the occasional photo taken through a cellphone, I haven’t fired a shot for three years. I haven’t handled a camera since. I miss the scent of new film, the excitement of stepping outdoors, looking for that great shot. It is like being away from your love, and missing the feel of her hand and the scent of her near you.

     Click.

    

    

     It was tuli season again. Children squirmed as mothers dragged them towards the health center. There were a few brave boys who came alone. Everyone invariably wore extra large shirts, some so large as to almost cover the feet of the wearer. They came in droves. Here and there were the inquisitive, who peeked into every window, to see how the tuli is done.

     And here comes my first client. He was shaking almost as hard as I was.

     Only after much coaxing were we (yes, it took three of us) able to inject some anesthetic into our unwilling patient. After a while, the time came for us to turn the boy into a man.

     First, the straight forceps. I had to clip it onto the foreskin. Unsure of my abilities, I first tried locking and unlocking it, to practice. "Click-click-click!" "Tttrrrrrrriiiiik!"

     Our patient let out a yell, and sobbed in sheer fright. "What’s wrong? We haven’t even touched you yet!" It transpired that he thought we were already cutting into him, and, on cue, he screamed. Naturally, he hadn’t been in pain, much less, felt anything. This is going to be tough, I thought.

     The first cut. Remember to angle the blades upward, I thought to myself, in order to avoid injury to the glans. Snip! Snip! Snip! Not too much! Whew!

     And, blood! Wipe, wipe, wipe, then stitch! I was sweating. I was shaking. And this was supposed to be routine? Stop thinking, and keep stitching, I told myself.

     "Are you doing it ’skin-to-skin’, Bullets?", my classmate asked me.

     "Er, yeah, right, I am", even though I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

     Stitch, stitch, stitch, while the patient goes, yell, yell, cry, curse. Wonder of wonders, I’m almost done! After two tries at locking the suture, finished na iya penis, mam!

     Outside, our client’s friends were sniggering. Outside, our client’s mother is smiling faintly; the clinic’s walls were thin, and her child’s yells transmitted to the outside with high fidelity. But, now, the kid, sensing that it’s done, has quieted down.

     We dressed the wound, cleaned our client up, and released a man into the world.

    

   

     Thursday night, the winged ants came out.

    They swarmed out of cracks in the wall, out of corners and crevices, and took flight, hovering around the lights of the kitchen and the sala. Some, perhaps too excited at the prospect of romance to see where they were going, zipped directly into the noses of the equally excited house lizards.

     My father had said that they come out just before the rainy season. His father had taught him that, and perhaps, in turn, my grandfather’s father told young Gerardo Baula that fact, as they sat in their rural hut somewhere in Abra. 

     It was something that just came to me as I was trying to rid the house of the pests, these and others that flew straight towards the light: Plant a coconut tree where you intend to build your house. Do not sweep the floors at night. Just before you put in your new house’s posts, put a one-peso coin in the post holes.

     The flying ants come with the rain. An earthquake signals the change of seasons. If the children fly kites, the harvest will be small. If they play with marbles and tops, a bountiful harvest. Farmer’s wisdom, to be sure, passed on from generation to generation. Except, perhaps, that my grandfather would be the last to find use for these maxims. His would be the last generation to watch the seasons, till the earth, wait for the rains. His seed would not find any use for the practical wisdom that were older than he is. Thirty years from the time when he would relate these to his eldest, they would just become artifacts of a simpler, harder time, when life comes and goes with every turn of the season.

     And, yet, I still remember them, that Thursday night, as I was busily spraying the ants with modern insecticide.

Blog? Isn’t that the sound one hears when someone falls from a tree or something, the sound that comes immediately before "Crrrrruunnnch!!!!" and "Aaaggghh!!!"