ang pangarap ni isagani

Elementary school

As I enter the school, everything flashed back like abrupt lightning. The memories of my teachers and classmates lanced my cerebellum. Every corner of the school is still familiar to me. I crossed my finger on seeing my favorite teachers but I failed to see even a single soul. I can’t believe I was inside the campus. The same people, the same atmosphere, the same calmness.

You could think I was there for just a mere crap. Sad to say, you’re erroneous. I was there for a business: to send an invitation from my school concerning to a Math competition. As I was looking around, I had a vision of me running to and fro, amidst the laughters of my fellow students. It took me some time to realize that I am no longer a kid; I am a fifteen-year old purported cynic guy who sees life at different angles. I have not met with the school principal, so I just lent the letter to someone I supposed I know. Still too early, I summoned a tricycle to school.

Flag-raising ceremony

I hate flag-raising ceremonies. I detest seeing my schoolmates being burnt by the early sun, standing with their backpacks on their shoulders, crying nationalistic songs and out-of-the-heart oaths. Each first day of the week begins with this peril. It never came up to my mind that I would be part of that yet another ceremony to attend to. I was expecting something–I was expecting to hear the journalists’ prestigious names be uttered by our principal. I was right. I was not included because I didn’t join the recently concluded Division Press Conference. Opportunity lost, so to speak.

The director

Save for our first class, we didn’t have any formal classes today. The pilot sections 1, 2 and 3 decided to have a powerhouse for the play “Helen of Troy”. Excuses were made for us to be able to have this day to rehearse, to make the props, and to sew some of the costumes. At first, I doing nothing at all since I am not included on the cast neither I am adept to draw nor to sew.

I took charge on being the director despite of a trauma.

Last year, instead of mythology as the theme, we had “Bohemian Rhapsody” as a dancedrama. At the time being, I took charge as the director and because of that I was abhorred by the leader (she is a girl) insulting me with the turned-to-be-cliche line “I like what you’re saying but I like it that way”.

Now, I took change with a consideration that nothing will happen or improve if I am not going to move to fix the play. I came to their rescue for the play’s sake. Later on, my tempered went up because of my actors who were so insensitive. If I am the director, one should follow me. I turned out on uttering the line “ang pangarap ni isagani” pointing out that just like how isagani dreamt on the novel El Filibusterismo, they might as well dream for the play’s perfection. One might think I am a paranoid.

But then that’s just how it goes! If I am the director, I should be the only one to be followed. I have all the rights and I have all the time to consume. How vain, eh?

I love directing, and for the sake of sharing, I would like you, dear readers, to know that being a director of a play is included on my dream-to-be-fulfilled list.