Category Archives: emo

That Piano at the Gym(2008)

Do you notice that big box at the right side of the back of the gym? near the girl’s rest room? Well there’s more to it htan just a dust collecting box. That box was a silent witness of love, compassion, pain and many more. Kung di dahil sa kahon na yun, wala ako sa kinalalagyan ko ngayon.

February 1, 2008

Last week, Tuesday, I was given a very great honor… I was just walking to the ecological park when I heard someone playing the piano… I peeped inside the gymnasium and found the her there along with mother Josie and Mark  Paul…

It was Sister Tilet… I never saw her play that good… she was in the peak of his passion for music…

I remember when she said,

“kahit ako’y hindi pwede magasawa, ito na lang ang asawa ko… ang piano”

Hmmm. Then she offered me free lessons… this wads just the thing I was waiting for… before that day came, I only imagined her to be just someone who knows how to play the instrument but after that encounter, I realized that it’s her passion to play…

She has been my idol since I got here because she really plays so good. She even played a composition of my favorite musician… (Fur Elise by Ludwig van Beethoven)

With her teaching me piano lessons, I’m bound to learn… it would be the greatest gift I will receive for my birthday…

Thank you Sr. Tilet….

_______________________________Russel

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AGAPE: Her Gift of Acknowledgement

This should have been written a lot earlier but after some months of delay, it’s done already.

It was summer then and I was alone in the studio waiting for the new students to come and have their pictures taken. This was the least fun part of my work as a student s assistant in the Information technology Center for I have to sit in that little room the whole day until someone arrives. After a few minutes or so, I’m back to talking to myself and listening to Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 over and over again, it’s the only music installed on the PC I am operating.

I decided to clean up a little when I found a book. I saw that book a few weeks earlier in the office of the author herself. I found out that it was a Biography and I was kind of hesitant to open the book then because after all, it was her office and I was just there to fix her printer.  So seeing the chance to satisfy my curiosity, I browsed through the pages.

Written in glossy paper, I presumed that there were only a few copies of that book, looking at the graphics on the cover, made me think of a regular book with a regular content. I opened it and saw pictures, after a few minutes of browsing something caught my attention… believe it or not, after catching it, it failed to let it go.

"Judging a book by its cover really pays."

"Judging a book by it's cover really pays."

Aside from being a biography, it was also a love story like no other, a love story bound by restrictions and hindrances that the weak of heart dare not to cross. The words I read become realistic scenes at the back of my head as I read along. This was one story different from the others and definitely she was one person different from whom I first knew. From the school personnel who she used to be, calling for help after work hours in Saturdays, she became a favorite personality of mine. From her experiences I was touched, the controversies I was intrigued, her search for herself made me wonder if there are things left to do for her. Yet at the back of all those she still is a daughter to a loving mother and a mother herself to her son.

Finishing the book, I found out that it was morning already. I lipped the book in my bag and hit the bunkers but the excitement is still there. I want to talk to her, ask questions, ask for more stories but how.

A year later I found her on a social network in the internet, added her up and just waited for an opportunity to do some interview. A week later she was online and we were able to have a really short conversation.

I told her my feedback on her book, that I was touched and all but her comments were far more touching. After that she had to go and the next week after she arrived in the Philippines. I saw her on the corridor, greeted her the way I used to and was shocked to know that she remembers me. It was an enlightening experience for me, to be acknowledged like that.

It was nice finally seeing her and meeting her for the first time, even though we have always seen and met each other before.

Up to now, I’m still hoping for that long conversation.