Small and Seemingly Unimportant Events

In less than two weeks, I will be leaving what I considered home for the past 20+ years. As I start packing my things into bags and boxes, small and seemingly unimportant events keep flashing on my mind. I remembered how I spent the entire afternoon living in a fantasy world with my Lego, or my first set of Magic the Gathering cards. Just holding my high school year book brings back the 1-hour-before-test reviews. Even the books that I bought but was seldom used. Nostalgia is a powerful feeling.

It took more than an hour to pack just one box. When I was born, I only have one thing: my birth certificate. As time goes by, I seem to accumulate more and more things. Some may be regarded as strict requirements in life, like educational certificates and work permits while others are just plain trash. Now, I am cluttered with things I can do without yet chooses not to discard.

While writing this post, I realized that I never thought about the big events in my life. Graduations and birthdays were nonexistent during my reminiscing moments. This came as a surprise knowing that humans tend to focus on bigger and grander events. I have this tendency of defining people based on their great accomplishments. Now I know I am wrong.

Life is not just about the awards or the books, or the toys. Nor is it about birthdays, graduations or wedding ceremony/ies. Life is composed of small and seemingly unimportant events that happens unconsciously. A digital image is made up of hundreds and thousands of pixels. Individually, these pixels can be created without changing the overall impression of the image and yet these small dots define who we are.

Pixlyfing, creating a digital image of life one pixel at a time. A made up word that is appropriate for this post. It is a life long process that involves time, patience, a fast system and a big memory.

It is not an easy task considering how imperfect humans are. Some pixels may not come out as planned but eventually, as youth turns to maturity, when a higher perspective is reach, a beautiful picture will be painted.

PS: But right now, I'm still pissed at some of my pixels.

The Anonymous and the Famous

The reason I started this blog in the first place is to write anything and everything that I think and feel without worrying about what people, who knows me, would think. And instead of keeping a journal, I opted to utilize 21st century technology.

A couple of days ago, I fed the RSS feed of this blog into my newly created Facebook account. Now, this totally defeats my initial purpose. It took about a week to finally sever the link bridging my no-holds-bar world into my present reality. During those times, I merely privitized my notes, and deleted any notification Facebook publish. The reason it took me that long can be attributed to the sudden connection to long friends and different addictive games.

And just to be sure that whatever I write here will not automatically show up on my Facebook account, I wrote this post.

Graduation Day

Finally, after long years of coffee-enhanced consciousness and drenching on stress of school requirements and examinations, I'm finally finished. Today was my graduation. At first, I plan on treating the supposedly overrated occasion just like any other day. For someone who avoids celebrating one's birthday, this should be easy. Besides, I felt neither a small ounce of joy nor and shred of satisfaction I graduated from high school.

But I felt obligated to involve myself. For one thing, my parents, particularly my mom, wanted me to go. Probably, the reason why she is adamant about this is because she was not able to join her graduation. She always say that it is part of the college experience. It will be a big lost on my part, something that I may never get back. My I-don't-give-a-damn facade will be put to another test.




Along the ceremony, I somehow felt the graduation spirit enveloping me, gradually turning me into a cap-throwing graduate. I do not know what or who caused it; perhaps it was the speech of one of the graduates, the mere fact that my family is watching me, or just the environment I was in. The bottom line, I feel overjoyed.

As I write this, I continually have flashes of my college years like the first time I failed an exam to my first 4.0 grade. It has been a fun and fulfilling experience.

What Constitute a Home?

The plan of starting over at another country remained a mere idea until the actual Visa was delivered right at our doorstep.

I don't know what to feel. Although I do miss my mom, I will be leaving what has been my home for all my life. The extreme heat, air-polluting public vehicles and the flooding streets are a part of who I am. Although I do pride myself of adapting quickly to any situation, I never intentionally jump into the water unless on extremely unavoidable circumstances - and migrating is one of them.

While typing the list of the things that we will be bringing when we migrate, the thought of leaving home struck me and I felt great trepidation. Where will we live? What kind of people will I meet? Will I get a job? What’s with the cold weather? I guess these questions are silently residing on my mind, undetected, and nobody seems to know the answer.

What I do fear the most is being put in a place filled with strangers and peculiar surroundings. But I had a realization…well sort of like an unanswered question or an unfinished train of thought that may have temporarily quelled a big chunk of my panicking mind:

What constitutes a home?

Although the answer to this question is quite obvious to most people; realizing it and more importantly believing it is another story. And to some, who can compartmentalize logic and emotion, it presents quite a challenge.

Putting what I feel and/or what I am not feeling on a virtual paper helps calm my nerves but only for a couple of minutes. And for the next couple of days, I will experience all colors of emotions, a roller coaster ride filled with peaks of happiness and valleys of dread. By the time the ride ends, I know for a fact that I will be feeling much better, but vomiting isn’t quite an experience to cherish.

The Inevitability of Growing Up

It has been a really long time since I went back and visited my pediatrician. Aside from the known fact that I am more than 20 years old and at some point, a man has to graduate from "baby doctors", her clinic is at the far end of what seems to be the most crowded region in my country.

I am kind of excited to see how she was doing. As I was sitting in her clinic, waiting for my turn to be called, memories came rushing in. I remember waking up on a beautiful Saturday morning only to find out I have to have my shots that day. This usually ruins my entire day. The supposedly great day reserved for play and leisure transforms into a gloomy morning of anxiety and complete terror.

Commuting from our house to her clinic takes at least 1.5 hours without considering traffic congestion. For a kid who knows he would experience a world of pain, 1.5 hours flies by so fast. My heart would beat faster and harder as we come close to our destination.

Her clinic is situated on the 2nd floor of an old building. After climbing the stairs, I would always be surprised by the seemingly endless hallway with countless opened doors. Beside these doors and different beautiful engravings of the doctors name and their specialization. Just in front of each door are several benches that seems to be as old as the building itself.

I remember thinking that each clinic appeals to a certain group of people. There is a clinic for women with enormous bellies and a clinic for very people. However, one thing is always constant - kids. It seemed that regardless of which door I look, there are always kids just like me.

When we enter her clinic, we are immediately welcomed by the doctor's secretary. I can not seem to remember much about her but I do know she always gives me a flavored tongue depressors. By this time, my heart is pounding harder and louder, my knees is a little numb, and I can not think imagine straight. Me and my mom, together with one or two patients who arrived earlier than us, will sit in silence.

Then, the next thing I know, we are next. My mom and the doctor would talk for a few minutes then just like instinct, I follow the doctor's command. Breathe in...breathe out...breathe in...breathe out...A tradition passed on from one pediatrician generation to the next. Then, the most terrifying moment in my life yet, the needle.

As the doctor counts from one to three, I would shut my eyes, tightly hold my mom's hands and stiffen my arms. Ouch! Grown ups always liken getting vaccinated to being bitten by an ant. To those people I say, "bite me"!

Looking back, I realized how I have grown. Whenever I would see someone moving out from their parent's house, getting married or simply making his own pot of coffee, I would be reminded that life matures. It is a force that expands and even though it can be delayed, it can never be contained.

Oh, the inevitability of growing up.The things I have learned, the things I have experience, and the things I regret (not) doing all becomes a part of the growing process and I still have a lot to go through. Anything and everything can cause or delay maturity. It's up to us to decide how this will affect our lives.