Of graduations, success and the dawn of a new era

“Hunger. Love. Passion.”

For Mr. Raymond Joseph Laurel, more popularly known as Rajo, the sum of the three is the formula for success. Save for the “silabok” translation, which was still actually funny, I’d say those words and the talk it was part of was one heck of a job for a first-time commencement exercises speaker. I was initially doubtful of how he, as a man of fashion, would be able to relate to graduates of an IT school, but in the end, he did it impeccably. From live tweeting a photo of the crowd, to quips about kittens and Vogue, to the transition from New York to Taft, and finally the above three words, he never lost the interest of his audience and at the same time was successful in getting across the message of how success is possible, regardless what field someone is in. Good job.

Witty speaker. No part of the speech was “nakakatakot”. Haha!

***

Yes, earlier this day, I attended graduation three of three. That was the final one for the family (for the immediate future, at least) and the one that marks the start of another era in our lives. Erika, our youngest, and Dave, the third, both finished their bachelor’s degrees on March and May respectively, while I finished my master’s last April.

I am not one to brag, but I think that merits a pat in the back. *pats Erika, Dave and self in the back* I could easily write a lengthy essay about how I feel right now but ultimately, it can be summed up by this statement: I am very happy that my goal of being able to have my siblings finish higher education has seen its fruition. I did it.

Finally!

Photo credit: Jonathan Robinson

***

All these talks about success and goals being achieved reminded me of a post I wrote almost five years ago. Speaking of dreams, it’s interesting that after all these years, the sentiment remains:

Two nights ago, I had dinner with Ate E, Kuyas B and A at Trinoma’s Cibo. With all the issues (then)* involving certain parties within the four of us, it became rather difficult to converse about anything. For quite a lengthy period of time, the dinner table was shrouded in awkward silence.

Dead air.

Not being a fan of it (dead air), I had to ask a question. I didn’t want to discuss anything “heavy” then, but the topic was the first that came into mind:

“What’s your one big dream (or what have been you biggest dreams, if you have many)? And assuming you haven’t fulfilled any of those in the past, how are they right now (those dreams)?“

Now that I think about it, the only person who directly answered the question was Kuya A. I know for a fact that he had once dreamt of being a doctor. His response to my question: “Once I put something aside, it’s over. There’s no rekindling it.“

And there’s the death of the doctor dream right there.

Ate E and Kuya B, at that moment, said they didn’t have any of those big-time dreams. (Which, of course, I thought was crap. I believe every person at least has one.)

The dinner ended uneventfully and we each had to go home.

Two hours later, fresh from the shower and bored alone in bed with nothing to watch on TV, Ate E made her presence felt with a text message from which a two-hour (on my estimate) conversation started.

In that conversation, I was confronted with my own question. Ate E asked me:

“How about you? What’s your one big dream?“

I was stumped, initially, then I found myself digging through some memories.

My first recollection of a dream was when I was in kindergarten, with my desire to be a pilot, quite generic for my age. Grade four came and that gene from my mom expressed itself that effectively erased that future: nearsightedness set in. Two years followed, grade six, and then it was my Catholic confirmation. I was asked by our bishop (in front of the entire batch, mind you) what I wanted to be when I grow up. I surprised even myself when I answered:

“I want to be the President of the Philippines.“

I don’t exactly recall if I just wanted to be applauded then (which happened, by the way), or if it was what I really desired, but after some contemplation, and considering the sore state of politics in our country, I concluded I wasn’t cut for it. No thanks to my 11-letter unrecognizable surname, too.

High school came and then another generic ambition: I wanted to be a doctor. But, once again, fate told me to pursue something else; the UPCAT and USTET results pointed another route, anything but BS Biology. So I took BS Physics (don’t ask me why) and finished it. At some point, I dreamt of being the first Filipino to win the Nobel Prize for Physics but after failing two major subjects, that one went to the dumpsters as well.

Of course there are these “silly” ones, too. I wanted to be an “artista“, with fans going gaga over me and taking great pains just to have a picture with me or even of me. I thought of winning the Philippine Idol title, fine, even the Pinoy Dream Academy one; I wanted to sing, winning everyone’s heart with my voice. At times, I think I want to be a handsome hunk, too, again being admired by everyone this time because of my dashing looks and laughing at those who didn’t take notice of me back when I was still a fat nerd. (Haha! Shallow, shallow, shallow…)

Uh huh. Believe it or not.

Photo credit: Wikipedia

Anyway…

Fast forward to two nights ago. Confronted again with the question “How about you? What’s your one big dream?“, I found myself giving three answers (I know, I know, I was asked for one, but I had three, ok? Leave me alone. Haha!):

First, I want to be the richest Filipino on Earth.

Second, I want to be a CSI. (Not a SOCO, mind you. Totally different.)

And third, I want to have a family of my own, a daughter and a son, a decent house in a decent neighborhood, a decent car and a pet dog.

Yes, nothing unique. As Ate E puts it: “Many people dream of these, too.“

After a few more messages (some a little too juicy to be noted here. Haha!), we decided to call it a night. Left with no one to talk to, and still with nothing to watch on TV (it was past 1 AM by this time), I was again in deep thought.

I did give out three concrete aspirations but when I dissected each and every one of it, I find underlying implications.

First, I dream of having the means to do anything good the world can offer, hence the desire to be wealthy.

Second, I dream of having a “cool” career, of being envied for my kind of work, and of not being asked to explain my exact job description, hence the want to be a CSI.

And third, I dream of being loved unconditionally, and giving the same love in return, hence the longing to start and be part of one’s own family.

(At this point I can almost here Eia saying: Cliched and corny, Ralph. Cliched and corny. Yes Eia, this would qualify for your mush-festival. Haha!)

I was then reminded of a passage I read from a Paulo Coelho novel I finished a month ago, The Devil and Miss Prym:

“She had just realized there were two things that prevent us from achieving our dreams: believing them to be impossible or seeing those dreams made possible by some sudden turn of the wheel of fortune, when you least expected it. For at that moment, all our fears suddenly surface: the fear of setting off along a road heading who knows where, the fear of a life full of new challenges, the fear of losing forever everything that is familiar.”

Do I believe these dreams are impossible? Hell no! I could become richer than the Ayalas or be the hottest CSI if I work really hard at it. I could even be a husband and a father right now if I really wanted to. (Okay, scrap that last one. Haha!)**

But like the people of Vizcos in Coelho’s novel, am I prepared to see these dreams turn into reality? Are we prepared to see our dreams turn into reality?

Then I hear myself sigh. I realize it’s Sunday dawn and I was there, laying in bed, thinking about complicated matters.

Maybe I should try focusing on the artista-singer-hunk dreams instead, I thought. Later that afternoon, I found myself slaving away at the gym for one and a half hours.***

* Emphasis on “then“

** Seriously, scrap that last one. =p

*** For health reasons, above anything else (vanity included). I’m not defensive, really.