Who am I?
Hi, ako po si Lap. Some might remember me as a really awkward curly girl in high school: sometimes too loud, sometimes too quiet, a bit boisterous, and a lot nerdy. Like many, I enjoyed English, Speech and Lit, was terrible in maths (for this I greatly apologize to all my past teachers), reveled in some success as part of the debate team, dabbled in art through VA, and found my voice and nurtured a bit of talent when I was invited to join the Mutilated Fingers with Des, Mutya and Ming.
In my mind, I had never really fit in with one crowd, not one box, not one label. Even in high school, I was flitting about different groups, and this got me in trouble with people more often than I’d care to admit. I don’t regret this one bit though, because now that we’re in the homestretch with our homecoming celebration, I feel so much more connected to everyone – not just one group. Perhaps it came from not really knowing who I was or who I was becoming at that time: Inez hit the nail on the head in asking, “did we all know who we truly were?” But looking back, I’m nothing but thankful for that entire journey of not knowing who I really was, because it allowed me to hang out with so many different people who were truly inspiring even at that awkward time of growing up.
In high school…
In high school, I met friends who I know now are my ‘ride or die’ posse: the ones who have slapped me back to life when I was dying, the ones who drove miles to pick me up because I was crying in the rain over stupid heartbreak, the ones who love me when it was hard to love myself. I’m thankful that I met them, and that I’ve kept them close, although not physically, but in heart. (paging Hazel, Joan at Kitty 
haha!)
In high school, I met friends who were wise beyond their years as teenagers, and they’ve grown to be agents of change: mothers, poets, artists, entrepreneurs, freedom fighters, photographers, doctors, teachers, professionals. I’m so glad that even for a moment in your life’s book, I was there and we shared a conversation, meaningful or not.
In high school, I met teachers who in later years became friends. I’m grateful to know them all beyond the halls of school, now with families, now with lives and careers outside of St. Scho.
I remember…
I’ve carry with me loads of great memories from High School:I remember Ditas in our Biology class, creatively imitating the Undertaker from WWF (na WWE na ngayon). I remember the anemone that lived outside the Science lab. I once curiously poked it with a straw and apparently killed that thing (R.I.P. anemone, I’m sorry I murdered you.)
I remember typing classes and Milli Vanilli. I remember being so proud of a cardboard mask I painted for it, only to find we were going to cover it with a large brown paper bag (hahaha sayang ang effort ko!)
I remember the split speech classes and how happy I was that I was in Ms. Lovina / Sir Benjie’s class. I remember The Scent of Apples and running like mad trying to get our kites in the air in a field surrounded by massive buildings (zero wind = all day running.)
I remember Visual Arts class with Ms. Barayuga, and I remember how much I admired Margaret and her use of oil paints. (Iba ka talaga!) I remember my endless doodling, on notebooks, desks, blackboard, trapper keepers, and on the side of my sneakers.
I remember going to High School dances in dresses and doc martens, and running to the floor when we heard Stars play over the speakers. I remember the music (oh the music) – listening to Metallica’s Enter Sandman and scaring my little brother by reciting the poem in bed at the dead of night (hahaha), learning to play Dust in the Wind by Kansas on the guitar, singing to Wilson Phillips sa library with Kris, admiring Pia and how well she knew how to play so early on (I only picked up the guitar at my 3rd year).
I remember the ghost stories we told each other on those many sleep overs in the school, the nun with her head squeezed behind iron bars which apparently appeared when a graduating batch sang “Farewell to you my friend” and the haunting you might find if you ever need to pee in the high school toilets at night.
I remember points of information, endless hours hanging about at the Troika Hall, and that funny blue jacket I wore to death during debates because I thought it brought me luck.
I remember hairdos and hairdonts and how impossible it felt to actually achieve a hairstyle that suited me. My daughter is not going to be happy about this, and I’ll probably have to address this at some point in her teenage life.
I remember crushes and going to parties in San Lo in secret or watching Batman Returns while lying to my parents saying I was in a study group at someone’s house.
I remember the sneaky sips of rum we took in Mrs. Se’s cooking class when we were meant to be baking cakes, and how impossible we must have been as tweens, lying through out teeth and telling our teachers we didn’t do anything wrong when our flushed faces and drunken gaits gave us away.
I remember the Tsukuba stationery and the smells of the erasers, stickers and cartoon envelopes we would spend our hard earned allowance on from the canteen. I remember band practices in Singalong, feeling excited to be a part of something fun, something big, and something exciting. I remember playing for a High School dance, and for Parents’ day, and feeling so proud of myself.
I remember the Happiness Notebook and all the wisdom in it. I remember Jaye’s wit, Chiara’s beautiful positivity, and how so many contributed to this. I wish so much that we could find out where that book is now.
I remember secret conversations with people who trusted me enough to be a repository of sad stories. I remember the shared empathy, crying over heartbreak, growing pains, family stress, failed grades, and generally being unhappy. We were angsty young adults, and we felt the world crashing in on us. I remember a guidance counselor I had once (her name I’ve unfortunately forgotten) who reminded me in that my problems then we’re not problems; that I would look back one day and realize they were all tiny worries in the grand scheme of things. She was right, and I’ve come to realize this long after I’ve left St. Scho.
After SSC…
After high school, I thought I would become a lawyer, but realized early on that it wasn’t what I wanted to be. I worked in publication then in events production. I moved to Hong Kong, got married, divorced. Now I am married again, and a mother. I now work in IT in the legal industry, and like many of you, have enjoyed and sometimes cursed the entire journey of riding the shifting trajectories that life brings us.
But even til now, I can describe myself with those same words: I’m still the really awkward curly girl that doesn’t fit in with one crowd, not one box, not one label. I am different and grown, but essentially the same, and I think my high school life made me understand and love that about myself.I’m looking forward to reconnecting with all of you and I cannot wait to see you all, albeit virtually. Salamat sa inyong lahat for shaping me into the person I am today, and I hope in some way we have shared a tiny memory that you still hold dear.
