Earlier today I went through my college yearbook in search of an address. After writing down what I needed, I was going to slip it back to its place on the shelf when I spied my high school yearbook tucked at the back of the shelf. I reached for it and gingerly took it out of its place, not wanting to get any of the dust on my face. I grabbed some tissue, sat on the floor of my room and started cleaning the 15-year old thing. When I was satisfied with its state of cleanliness, I started to go through 4 years of memories.
I can't explain the emotions that I have right now after looking at the pictures, the funny anecdotes and hirits captured forever in its pages. I'd feel regret that I wasn't able to get close to numerous people who I thought had the most interesting personalities and then immediately feel comforted that somehow I tried in my own little way. I laughed out loud at the 1st page that chronicled our freshman cheerdancing competition. Well, it was supposed to chronicle our freshman attempt but apparently, no one had bothered to bring a camera then. I spend my time looking at the dance pictures trying to get a glimpse of me (naturally!) and trying to remember the practices, the bruises, sweat and blood. I remember feeling really tired and annoyed at the end of one practice because we kept on repeating the ending (where the cheerdancers had to incorporate themselves back into the pep squad and the pep squad would lower themselves showing off the cheerdancers in individual poses) and when we eventually got it right I blurted out 'Ay, salamat!' at the exact moment everybody chose to keep their mouth shut. I still remember the laughter and relief that we were able to do it after so many tries.
I cringe at the memory wherein I wasn't allowed to be a cheerdancer in my senior year because of a failing grade. It was devastating and I cried so much then. Looking back, I felt I deserved not to dance because I failed to balance what I wanted to do and what I needed to do. This would become motivation for me not to fail any class in college so I could still do cheerleading and also get to receive a substantial discount in my tuition fee every trimester in CSB. For someone who was paying for her own tuition, it was a big help.
And who could ever forget the shooting star that made our hearts stop and rejuvenated our tired limbs? I could still feel the awe of being a witness to it. I have only seen 2 shooting stars until now, that time during practice, and on my birthday in Tagaytay last year.
I remember the PenPal project Mr. dela Vega pushed us to do. Que horror! A lot of us were so worried about it. However, I am grateful for that project because I gained a Latvian friend. (Read here and here.)
I am tempted to pull out the Rubik's cube (yep, I still have it) I have kept in a box up in my closet. Practice with it and show off my skills to my nephews.
I am also tempted, after writing this entry, to look for a video of Quest For Fire. Well - Er. For memories' sake, of course.
