benmears

[benmears]

Two Sides of a Leaf

Unfolding the Old Leaf

   Sofia Julia T. Javier is a good cousin of mine. We are roughly about the same age, so we naturally possessed a sibling bond. Back when we were kids, we used to live in the same neighborhood, and we would often go to each other’s house to play and do some kids' things. She was smart, knew what she was doing in her life, and had a good sense of humor. She was like my best friend, and as all good things come to an end, the greatest nightmare of a kid happened to both of us. Before we hit our puberty stage, Julia and her family moved out. I did not understand what I felt at the time, but now that I got older, I could articulate what I must have been feeling. It was like a huge piece of my heart had been chunked out. Ever since then, we would only meet once or twice a year, often when there’s only an occasion. We grew apart, our paths diverged, and we did not witness each other’s development. In one of these meetings, I noticed a change in her personality. Granted we should not base our judgments on people we only knew when they were a kid, but this was different. It was a good change. She came off somewhat stronger, and she exhibited a strong character – the good kind. It seemed like her old self was not there anymore.

   “My old self used to be someone who hung out with people all the time. I used to follow everyone based on what they thought about me and based on what they wanted me to be. I grew up believing that ‘fitting in’ is the best thing I could do for myself,” Julia said, describing her past self. She also said that fear and lack of confidence held her back from doing the things she loved as she was “easily swayed and shaken by the words of others.” It is safe to say that whatever persona she had before, it was made out of social influences. 

Some people just lack the gift of discernment. Some just don’t evaluate their actions. Some people had no idea if what they were doing was right or wrong, but Julia always knew. Growing up in a religious family opened her eyes to the things that she shouldn’t be doing and what she should do instead. “I knew some of my habits and actions before were inappropriate, disrespectful, and wrong,” Julia said. She was just blinded by her zeal for others' approval. “Since there’s an eagerness to be accepted by other people, I disregarded that belief and continued living the life I thought would be good for me.” When asked about her past actions that she fully regrets now that she has transformed into her new self, Julia said that some of the actions were saying bad words and being lazy. “I regret being lazy, wherein all I did was spend my whole day playing on my phone. I would just lay down the whole day, forgetting my duties, and just letting the day pass without even doing something good.” She also added that she used to justify her actions by means of using her lack of confidence and self-esteem. “I would make other people feel obligated to always bring me with them.”

Turning a New Leaf

   There are two parts of transformation that are considered to be the hardest to deal with: the change and retaining the change. When talking about the former, one realization was all it took for Julia to rework herself. “It was the year 2019, not too long ago. I was a grade 11 student when I realized that my habits were not conducive to my daily life,” Julia said. As she stated, changing her priorities and pushing herself to be productive really did the work for her. As simple as doing household chores served as a good start for peeling her old skin away.

   She also started working out. She first tried it way back in 2018 but failed to live up to it. One year later, she learned that consistency is the key. She urged herself to do it every day and was successful in doing it. Working out set her mind at ease, and this had an impact on her academic performance. Julia noticed a significant change in her school behavior. She became an active and effective learner at school. She also observed how her personality changed from being the bubbly and always-in-need-of-approval-of-others girl into an independent strong woman. “I love spending time on my own and doing the things I love,” Julia said.  

   In search of acceptance of others, Julia would always find herself filled with disappointment, but there was one thing she didn’t explore yet. She forgot the most important part. She tried to look for it, and discovered what she longed for all her life. Julia looked within herself, and found the acceptance she had been waiting for others to do. “I no longer search for someone who accepts me, but rather I learned that acceptance comes within me,” Julia said with strong conviction. This must have been one of the greatest lessons everyone should learn about themselves. In light of this recent discovery, Julia became keener in turning and seeing the good in every bad situation. “Failure became an opportunity and old habits became an inspiration for me to be better and to improve even more. I began to see the good things in everything, and I started seeing myself being the happiest person that I could ever be.” Happiness comes within as acceptance is living inside of it. Julia’s transformation proved this.  

   Changes didn’t come to her as smooth as silk. The light of change always casts a shadow of doubt, but it is up to the person whether to follow the light or to succumb in the dark. Julia had been tempted to go back to who she was before, but these temptations remained as temptations as she successfully resisted the urges. “There would always be people who would push your button and test you. There are some words of discouragement that will make you cry. There are changes where you would feel guilty for being happy, and there would be instances where you would question whether you are doing the right thing and would constantly doubt yourself.” The doubts eventually faded until they no longer created an impact on her life.

   Her old self was not all that bad. She knew in her heart that some of her past life never left her. One of the things that remained and will always remain is the humane part of her personality. “I retained the goodness in my heart which is the top priority of all.” So, despite all of the challenges she had faced, all the actions that she regrets, the times where she leaned too hard on others to the point that she lived for the sake of them, her good heart endures, and that is one thing she will never give up.

   A change can be a good thing as it really depends on how we look at it. Julia looked at it the way a person would after seeing a spark of hope in the middle of despair, an opportunity to save herself. It is okay to cry if we become overwhelmed with changes; crying is not only for kids, but keep in mind that in every tear that rolls down is a reminder of the struggle we once dealt with. Remember, there are two kinds of change: the good change and the bad change. Always choose the good one. At the end of the day, we will be proud of what we become and how we turn out to be.

[benmears]

Interview Questions

1.  What was your old self like?

2. Did you think that what you were doing at the time was right or normal?

3. If you are comfortable telling, what were your practices that you completely regret now that you’ve transformed into a new person?

4-5. How and when did you realize that you needed to change something within yourself?

6. What were the major changes that you observed?

7. In the process of transitioning into a new person, what obstacles did you encounter?

8. Did you grieve when you left your old self?

9. Was there ever a time that you somehow “relapsed” or even thought about going back to the way you used to be?

10. What parts of your “past life” have or you intentionally retained?

[benmears]

My Uncle Jess’s Place

   Sometimes, we associate memories, feelings, and certain events with places. It reminds us of the good old days and reminisces about going back again. Maybe to try and see if we can recall the adventure, the fun we shared with people, or maybe just to unwind. I am one of those people. My family is important to me, and every trip I made with them is engraved deep within my heart. Whenever I think of family bonding, our trip to Oriental, Mindoro, along with my other relatives, is always the first thing that comes to my mind.

  I remember the trip started when my mother woke me up an hour before dawn. It was still dark, and I had no idea what was going on. I never bothered to ask my mom because a glimpse of my fat backpack lying at the corner had already answered me. It was the day we would go to my uncle Jess’s place in Mindoro for the second time.

   The first time had been, I suppose, fun and boring just the same. I can’t remember my age, but if I were to guess, probably around nine to ten. I was grouchy at the time of the first trip, always complaining about the never-ending driving as if the place is nowhere to be found. I suppose long trips aren’t for kids. We had ridden a ferry to get there and to go back home, and we’d do it again years later when we would go for the second time. The irritable person I was on the trip became a still, agape creature mesmerized by the trail of water made by the ferry. It was the only thing that caught my eye and silenced my babbling mouth. I was amazed again by this on the second trip.  This time, there was no bad-tempered person – I was in my teenage years; I guess I had outgrown it. I was quiet the whole trip and became like a mute upon seeing that trail of water with reflections of light as sunrise began. The golden light of the sun touched the smooth skin of bubbly water, and it reignited the memories of our first trip. It was like the tiny version of the departed Red sea that God made possible through Moses to let the Israelites pass through that’s heavily pictured in kids’ bible, only this time the ferry was the one cutting the sea in half. That was the time my excitement for the trip became apparent.

   On our first trip, I remember my uncle Jess’s place had a huge garden surrounding their house. The green grass, the different sorts of trees at the edges, was undeniably beautiful. Their house was big, but I could sense that it needed some improvements, otherwise we wouldn’t sleep every night with a kulambo. The windowless frames also suggested renovations, but it served as a way for a cold breeze that only people who live in provinces or rural areas can only feel to touch our skin every night that literally made me shiver down my spine. I can also remember the green meadows I had observed while I was in our car on the way there. It looked like a long painting of greenery, forming one picture from my perspective in the moving car. All of these were new to me, and they were beautiful, but I wasn’t able to appreciate them at the time. I was used to seeing tall buildings and decent roads, so I continued to be my grumpy self until the ride to the ferry on our way home.

   On our second trip, the place had been improved to a greater extent. They had added some things there; the small sari-sari store at the front, and beyond that, a small house, much like a kubo with a pool table inside. Past the kubo with the pool table was the improved bungalow house in the middle of the ever-green grass. The trees were still there, only they had been abundant, and from the looks of it, healthy. Beside the house was a newly-built two-story house where my uncle and his wife actually lived. The bungalow house was where we slept and a kulambo was not needed anymore. Beyond the two houses stood a hectare of land full of trees. Paths were created for easy walking. Beyond this vast land of trees was a river. The river was not exactly blue, not exactly brown either, but it was clear as if you could see the pebbles beneath, enough for us to consider it safe to swim. There was a sort of cliff next to it, and we would jump from there, all smiling and laughing with my cousins as our bodies met the water.

   When evening came, we were told not to go outside the premises. I didn’t know the exact reason, but needless to say, it was for our safety. The feeling of disappointment and the thought of wasting the perfect night made us set up a homemade theater. My cousin, we call him Jc, was wise enough to bring a pocket-sized projector. To construct the makeshift movie theater, we first had to find a flat wall. We had shown no success in finding one, but we did find a white tarpaulin that could serve as a white screen. We mounted it up, set the pea-sized projector, grabbed food and snacks, played the movie, sat on the grass – some even slept on it – and we were all busy creating one of the most amazing nights of my life. I couldn’t say the same for them, but it was indeed a memorable night.

   As all good things must come to an end, the trip was no exception. We said our goodbyes and promised to visit again. What happened on our little adventure to Oriental, Mindoro only lives in every conversation in every family gathering. It has been years since then, and I wonder when we will ever come back.

[benmears]

Paragraph Profile

Event: Thinking and Study Skills

When: October 29, 2021 (Friday)

Target: MCL-SHS Students

Speaker: Jerome Dalde

   Being an effective thinker goes all the way as it is beneficial and contains no harm. It really has an impact on our everyday lives if we know how to utilize it. It is necessary in doing research, and in studying in a general sense. One denoted that critical thinking is a must, and people should always know when to wear their detective hats on to avoid the dangers of ignorance. Looking into yourself, do you think you have the qualities of being a critical thinker?

   Paving the way into giving tips and tricks about thinking and studying skills is Mr. Jerome Dalde. Mr. Dalde is a Grade 12 honor student, achieving with high honors just last year, of Humanities and Social Sciences in Malayan Colleges Laguna. He won 3rd place in MCL Buwan ng Wika Spoken Poetry and Poster Making, and he also won 3rd place in ABSCBN Pinapa Dance Contest. Mr. Dalde is also making educational vlogs on YouTube in which he has gained 2,500 subscribers. A teacher and educator in the making, Mr. Jerome Dalde will share his experiences and some helpful points about maintaining a positive mind that may affect a person’s overall outlook in life.

[benmears]

Paragraph Profile

Event: Webinar on Student Life during the Pandemic

When: October 30, 2021 (Saturday)

Target: MCL-SHS Students

Speaker: Kyte V. Villanueva

   Pushing through life in the midst of a pandemic is harder than we all anticipated. In a wider view, we can see that students are struggling physically, emotionally, academically, and financially. Taking a zoomed look at a student's life helps us to understand students trying to survive the everyday struggles of living. Now, we are given the chance to experience being a student during the pandemic through Ms. Kyte Villanueva.

   Ms. Kyte Villanueva is a 17-year-old consistent honor and a Grade 12 Humanities and Social Sciences student from Malayan Colleges Laguna. She is also a member of LIKHA Malayan, a student organization that focuses on freedom of expression through the form of arts. Exhaustion from school-related work is one thing that she experienced, and now she is willing to share with us some things that she did when she was at that state. She will also be talking about the responsibilities of being a student at home. In addition to that, the pandemic hits not only our academic capabilities, but also our social skills, so taking a break from the world, virtually or not, is one thing she highly suggests. Taking the time to give a word of advice about survivability and sustainability, Ms. Villanueva will become the way to better understand being a student during the pandemic.

[benmears]

I Lived Another Life

   My room isn’t as big as others have, but I like it just the same. It’s not filled with posters as normal teenagers do. I have a theory that it happens when a person gets their own room at an early age, but I got mine just last year.

   Whenever I enter my room, I am embraced with the feeling of serenity, all because of the window on the north end of my room, just above my computer. We installed bronze Korean blinds that really set the mood for me. It splashes hazel light every morning, but it gets annoying when afternoon comes.

   To my right, beside my computer, is my custom-made bed. It is my favorite part of the room; the grey bed sheet that matches the wall on the north end, the soft duvet that warms my body every night, and the pillows that made every good night’s sleep possible.  Unlike any other bed frames that are made with metal, mine is made with dark-colored wood that I always bump whenever one of the four drawers below it is open (I am close to getting a bruise on my knee!). The drawers are filled with different kinds of things as I am still trying to figure out what to put in there. The first drawer, the one just below the head of the bed, is the busiest city of them all. There are used notebooks, papers of all sorts that will soon meet their new, stinky home just outside of our house, and tons of wires that I don’t even know the purpose of. I’ll clean them one day, I always told myself, but I couldn’t do it without the afterthought “No one can see it anyway.” Below the first drawer is the second one which is the warehouse of my little world. It contains a lot of boxes that came with building my computer. The contents of those boxes are all working together to do all my schoolwork (and video games, that’s for sure). Beside the first and second drawers are the remaining two which is what I’d like to call “an extension of my cabinet” because part of my clothes that my cabinet across the room couldn’t hold on to is all there.

   Across the bed, adjacent to my cabinet, is my second favorite part of the room: my bookshelf. I used to borrow books from my friend because I didn’t like the idea of wasting money on buying them, but it all made sense to me last year. There are probably more than ten books there, all by Stephen King. There is something about his books that makes me want to read more. Others read before they sleep because it is a somniferous act, but that’s not the case with Stephen King. All his books power up my juices that I could stay all night reading and trying to finish them. There is a study table next to the shelf where I should be reading, but it’s too high for eye level so it stayed there untouched. It is while reading Lisey’s Story, another Stephen King book, that one of the best things that could ever happen to readers happened to me.   It took place around March of 2020, just after the pandemic hit its 1-year remark. It was a cold, peaceful night. I couldn’t hear the humming of the fan that should be working on an ordinary day, and it was beautiful, reading at that weather with stillness many people with big families couldn’t afford. I was sitting at the table that would soon be filled with a monitor, keyboard, and mouse. There was a book opened halfway through in front of me. My head was submerged in the book, creating my movie adaptation of it.   

   Suddenly, my head jerked up and I was facing the window. I could remember the shock I felt as if I had been stabbed by millions of knives all at the same time. I was full of appreciation that I could feel my heart sink the second I raised my head. I was moved by the book I was reading. I was in awe. I was reading my life and not liking it. For a second there, I was Scott Landon. I thought I was reading a book where one of the main characters was me. I could picture myself being an author fighting lots of demons living inside me, an author with so much potential I could become successful one day, a person struggling to win every unwinnable battle, a person with a lot of secrets that for some reason he couldn’t share it with Lisey Landons of his life, a person whose life fell apart because of an abominable past, a person who had been struggling for all these years waiting for someone to listen to him. I was Scott Landon. Scott Landon was me.

   All these bursts of realizations seemed to last for a decade. It was so powerful. I could feel my skin prickle as if some magnetic force engulfed my whole body. I didn't notice that I had been staring at the window for quite some time now, mouth agape.

    I slowly closed the book and sighed as if I forgot to breathe. My hands stayed at the bright red front cover of the book, trailing my index finger to the “Lisey’s Story” stamp. It was so moving. The experience was exhilarating.

  One of the best feelings in the world is to know that you’re not alone, that maybe someone on the other side of the world understands you. I, for that matter, was not alone. Stephen King made a character out of a person who goes through the same experiences as me. 

[benmears]

A Small Sacrifice

   I never considered myself a night owl. I was often asleep as early as nine in the evening, ten at the latest. I never thought of messing up my sleeping schedule even though the temptations were everywhere in different forms; friends, video games, just to name a few. I always took care of it like a mother looking after her newborn child. I was aware whenever the clock hits nine. Sometimes, I would wait in bed, staring at the clock, waiting for the hour hand to hit the right number. There had been days where I would break this rule on an ordinary night, but those were rare occurrences, and I did it for a reason.

   One of them had been on the 26th of March, 2009. I was six, still innocent, and had no responsibilities. I was walking along the long, narrow hallway and headed to my parent's bedroom. I was in a great mood, thinking that what I was about to do would surely cause great happiness. I walked slowly, carefully stepping and making sure I wasn't making any noise. I remember the feel of the smooth tiles beneath my feet; how I used to slip and slide every time I ran. I was close to my destination when I looked on the west wall where the wall clock was. There was enough light coming from the post on the east window. The hour hand was almost in the center of one and two, the longer one was just beside it, and another long one that was moving faster than the other two was just hitting nine. I estimated that it was only less than a minute till twelve. Til the 27th. So, I waited.

   I stared into it like how I stared till the clock hits nine on most nights. I stared with deep concentration like almost seeing the clock’s hands move faster. I stared with wide eyes and clenched mouth, my eyebrows almost touching each other. The second hand reached ten... eleven... and then the three of them moved at the same time to twelve. I rushed toward the door, pushed it open, then I saw my mom on the bed, lying on her back, sound asleep. I sat beside her, wrapped my hands around her. I planted a kiss on her cheek and whispered, "Happy Birthday, Ma." She hugged me back and locked her hands behind me. I've never felt so loved before this.