PHASE ONE

THE WOMAN WHO CRIED NONE

In the beginning, I was in the middle.

A wanderer—or so they were called.

It was my decision to be one. I'd rather be in the middle than stay in one place.

Was it a hard decision? No, it was not. Deciding whether I wanted to stay or not was an easy decision for me.

How so? A strong will was a must, while a direction was optional.

If one were to journey, wouldn't there be two options at hand—to seek and to explore, or to seek and to stay?

I was the former, never the latter. Always opted to wander, never hesitated if I'll wither.

What was passion?

It was a question that's supposed to bug me ever since I was little.

What was in it that made people confused, sad, mad, and deranged? What was in it that was said to destroy dreams? What was in it that they were so focused on?

What was in it that I don't understand?

A topic that is all about passion was very foreign for me. It didn't give me anything—sadness, happiness, or excitement. But it gave me everything—my confusion.

I'm not sure if I started this journey built around that idea, but I was sure that I started this journey because I wanted to explore—it wasn't my option to stay. It's much better to explore than be caged in the middle.

A cage was restricting, and it was all things but exploration. For exploration, I'd do better in understanding myself rather than pretend to be improving in a place that seemed directionless.

Does this what it felt like to have no dreams at all—empty?

Or was this better than having any dreams?

To be guided with passion—direction. To be guided and bound in one place that gives you an illusion of improvement and self-satisfaction. To be guided with this direction because even though you're speaking of nothing, you'd be speaking about everything.

Ideas laced with experience, words bound by time and exploration. The abundance of things that improves a person's instincts.

Wouldn't it be nice to have guidance?

But if one were to have some, what would happen if, at the end of the journey, it wasn't the dream that you aspired to have?

It would be tiring, wasn't it? Drowning. Pointless. Directionless.

My ideas—were they originated from my directionless path?

In a world full of misjudgments, people who had passion were the ones who were said to be in the right direction. They are where they want to be, the public would say, but it was a false idea—a false direction—which immediately caged the people who were told to be in the so-called right direction.

Constantly drilled in their path; constantly criticized for their mistakes.

You're not performing from what I've expected you to, but did I even ask you to expect something from me?

Like how there were people filled with directions, there were directionless people, too.

It was to conclude that I was in the right direction, but, really, was there anyone on the right path? If so, could they guide me, too?

A directionless woman like me involving myself in a place laced with directions—Royal Colleges for the Arts, a place for people who believed that they are where they want to be.

I snickered at the thought.

Why did I involve myself in this place, anyway? Desperada na yata ako.

"So... you wanted to enroll at this College," she asked as she scanned my paper.

The woman in front of me looked stern and mature. The wrinkles were a give away that's why I didn't expect anything from that. I spiraled in the idea that she was laced with directions, but her eyes told me she was also directionless.

Naglalakbay rin ba siya kagaya ko?

"Tell me about yourself."

I sucked a deep breath and nicely picked the words that sounded as if I'm in the right direction.

Saglit lang. Manlilinlang lang ako.

I told her where I'm good at—painting, music, violin, piano, and other art fields that sounded "rich and elegant". Except for ballet—my family doesn't want me to be fixated on it.

Nakasasayang daw ng oras dahil imbes na magpakabihasa ako sa ibang mga larangan, inuubos ko ang lahat ng oras sa pag-ba-ballet. I think that's what they thought of that's why they decided to employ me in art fields that are a little easier to learn than ballet.

Mabuti na lang. Hindi ko naman kasi kayang manatili sa isang larangan.

However, it is out of my reach if the woman in front of me would be convinced with what I said. I'm not sure if I sounded right—or a little bit enthusiastic—but it doesn't matter.

I guided her on what to think about me—that's left for someone who's searching for directions. To appear as if I was on the right path.

Please do not be deaf to what I said.

Nanatili ang matalim niyang tingin sa 'kin, inaanalisa ang bawat galaw ko—kung magiging balisa ba o ipagyayabang ulit ang mga awards na nakuha ko?

She's trying to read me, but why should she do that if I have guided her on what to read?

Kulang pa ba ang naibigay ko? Masyado bang malabo ang mga 'yon para intindihin niya? O talagang hindi ko naiparating ang kaya kong iparating?

What was I lacking? I wanted to know so I could explore—so I could master it and mask it as guidance.

Doon naman ako magaling—at mag-galing-galingan upang paniwalain ang sarili na napunta ako sa tamang direksyon. Manlinlang sa sarili, magbingi-bingihan upang hindi marinig ang mga bagay na nagpawawala ng landas.

She leaned back and crossed her arms. The soft, red velvet couch creaked.

I looked at the glass window and saw the wide fields of the College.

Mananatili—hindi.

Pansamantalang titigil upang maglakbay—mga tamang salita—ang kahihinatnan ko rito. Kung makapapasok, alin pa ba ang mga disiplinang hindi ko pa nalalakbay?

"You're an art prodigy, you say..." she trailed off, her keen eyes at me.

Nanatili ako sa pakikipagtitigan. Magmukhang matapang kahit sa loob-loob ay naliligaw.

"I am."

With all of the awards that I got ever since that I was young, it was enough to confess that I had built a different world around me. Built a different identity and built a different idea of exploration.

It wasn't new; it wasn't old. Just in between—just like the middle.

"Kaya ba gan'yan ka magsalita?"

I gave her a passive look, unoffended.

Why? How do I sound like?

Bingi na yata ako at hindi ko marinig ang sarili kong tono.

She snickered and leaned forward. Tinapik niya ang mga papel at tumango sa 'kin.

"I didn't hear any happiness from you when you told me about your awards. You don't even sound bragging—you're like an empty shell. A robot, parang nakaprograma ang lahat ng sasabihin mo. Nasanay ka na ba na sabihin ang lahat ng mga awards na nakuha mo?"

"What's nothing to brag about?" balik ko sa kan'ya, hindi alam kung ano ang naging tono ko.

She gave me a small smile. "Parang pagod na pagod ka na, hija."

"I am, that's why I'm finding somewhere to stay."

Nagbuntonghininga siya at umiling. "Pagod ka na kasi... hindi mo na-enjoy ang lahat ng naaral mo?"

Did I even study it, or did I just take a glimpse of it?

Hindi ko alam; naligaw ako bigla.

"No," I answered.

"Then what is it, hija?" She gave me a shaky chuckle when I didn't answer.

Ang mapanuri niyang mata ay nagpahiwatig na hindi niya na ididiin sa 'kin ang usapang 'to.

Better—stop caging me in answering one question.

"Let's see..." Ibinalik niya muli ang tingin sa papel ko. "In your form, you filled out the program that you're interested to apply for. Bakit sculpture?"

A question that made me feel caged.

Bakit sculpture? Bakit hindi VisComm, ballet, painting, fashion design, o iba pa?

Bakit sa lahat ng mga marangyang sining na pwedeng ilaan ang disiplina, bakit sa pag-iiskultura?

There were a lot of questions that wandered in my head—it made me feel lost, indeed, I was—that's why I chose to disregard those and be deaf.

"It's one of the fields that I haven't tried," I answered; it's a lie.

Hindi ko pa nasusubukan? Sige, gabayan natin sila sa pag-iisip na gano'n.

Tumango siya sa 'kin, kumbinsido sa sinabi ko—kumbinsido na hindi ako nanlilinlang—kumbinsido na nasa tamang daan ko.

What does it take to convince everyone that I'm in the right direction? Surely, I'd have a glimpse of those in the days where I chose not to be deaf.

She was silent for a few moments before giving me a worried look.

"You remind me of one of the students who enrolled... the Little Prima Ballerina, Lavien Rosette Sevilja. Have you heard of her, hija? Nagulat talaga ako at hindi ballet ang kinuha niyang programa."

Naligaw ulit ako.

Should I back out and say that I'm not interested in enrolling here anymore?

Yet I chose to be deaf to my constraints, chose to be deaf to my musings, and chose to be just deaf—as simple and as complicated as that.

"What was her program?"

"Fashion Design."

Oh.

You could never say that someone was in the right direction.

The directionless talk immediately ended after the short congratulatory words which meant that I'm accepted.

Of course, which prestigious university wouldn't accept an art prodigy like me?

I was an art prodigy, or that's what they call me. I do not care about that.

Hindi naman ako ang nagbigay sa sarili ko ng direksyon na 'to kun'di ang mga magulang ko. Hindi rin naman ako ang nagdikta ng mga bagay na dapat kong aralin at linangin ang kaalaman kaya hindi sa 'kin ang karangalan na 'to—produkto lang ako ng mga gabay nila.

Where did it come from—my desire to be uncredited for?

I'm not sure, but I'm still wandering that's why there's no use to bug myself about it.

Hindi naman ako nagmamadaling maghanap ng katanungan—hindi gano'n ang ginagawa kapag naglalakbay.

Kapag naglalakbay—inaanalisa ang mga bagay na nadaraanan, inaalala ang mga memoryang nakasasakit, at inaasahan ang mga pangyayaring may posibilidad na manira. Gano'n kapag naglalakbay—inihahanda ang sarili sa iba't ibang pangyayari.

Ngunit kahit anong paghahanda, iyon din ang pagkaligaw.

Like how Lavien was lost.

I remembered how we spent our childhood—we were all conditioned to believe that we're in the right direction. With Lavien invested in ballet, Versechia invested in singing, and I invested in whatever field I was engaged in—those were guides to false directions.

Everyone expected Lavien to continue pursuing ballet, but why did she pursue Fashion Design? Everyone expected Versechia to continue singing, she did, but how sure were they that she'd stay?

Palaging naglalakbay ang mga tao, at sa paglalakbay, iba't ibang lugar ang madaraanan. Iba't ibang pangyayari na mag-aanyong direksyon ngunit ang totoo—panlilinlang.

Mga buhay na puno ng panliligaw at paglalakbay—hindi ba't kaya may mga tao na nagdesisyong huwag pumirmi? Dahil kapag nagpagala-gala, masasanay ang sarili na iayon ang kakayahan sa lugar na pansamantalang pananatilihan?

Ikokondisyon ang sarili na ito ang dapat gawin hanggang sa maabot ang kagustuhan—ang patutunguhan ng paglalakbay.

Kaya bakit may mga taong nagugulat na hindi ito ang landas na inaasahan nilang tahakin ng iba?

Hindi sila ang gumagawa ng landas nila. Sarili ang gumagawa ng landas para sa sarili. Kaya sarili lang din ang magiging dahilan sa pananatili o magpagala-gala.

Ngunit sa dami ng panliligaw ng mundo, bakit may mga taong nakakaya pa ring pumirmi sa isang disiplina? Ang hindi maging bingi sa takot, bagkus, hinaharap at kinakalaban ang mga 'yon?

Idinidiin—sumisigaw—na ito ang landas na tinatahak nila at naniniwalang tatahakin nila hanggang dulo. Hindi ba't nililinlang no'n ang isang tao?

O talagang ligaw na ligaw lang talaga ako kaya ganito?

Originated from confusions in journeying, I became weary.

The constant search for familiarity led me to be unfamiliar.

Dreams had become pointless, and the end was nowhere.

I was dreamless—it's related to directions. I'm directionless; I'm dreamless.

However, I had nothing to lose because I had nothing, to begin with. I may have something to brag about but for me it was nothing. What's use thereof when the sense that was meant to be relayed wasn't relayed?

It only confuses people, but that's journeying was all about—confusions. It was a never-ending cycle of questioning.

Tiring, but I was happy with it. Those were the only things that gave me directions.

Baka hindi talaga ako para sa sining.

That's why I chose to move on and be stuck in the middle.