life passing by

Here is a speech I gave as a representative of the graduating seniors a year ago.

March 21, 2007
Seniors Day speech

Good afternoon my fellow seniors.

It feels weird doesn’t it? To think of cramming for exams as no longer a way of life. To be here at the Amphitheater perhaps for the last time in a long time. To be sitting with friends knowing it could be the last week everyday gossip could be shared.

It is a mixed goodbye of sorts—to little traditions like late night Dunkin study sessions, Saturday basketball games, or reggae nights after exams. But all of us have to grow up sometime. And graduation, at least for me, is the express ticket to the formerly foreign world of grown-ups and wrinkles and families and jobs.

When we were just freshmen, we realized right from the start how little we knew. And when we leave Silliman University, we expect this process of earning to start all over again, with more blows landing closer to the heart, and disappointments taking longer to get over.

But I’d just like to share something I discovered last week as I was finishing up my research paper and was under undue stress. It has become one of my favorite quotes, and it is by an American writer and clergyman.

He said, “I believe that the single most significant decision I can make on a day-to-day basis is my choice of attitude. It is more important than my past, my education, my successes or failures, what other people think of me or say about me, my circumstances or my position. When my attitude is right, there is no barrier too high, no valley too deep, no dream too extreme, no challenge too great for me. Attitude keeps me going or cripples my progress. It alone fuels my fire or assaults my hope.”

I loved it so much I turned it into a mantra. I repeated it to myself as I was slaving over Biology papers and economic models and graphs. What matters is my attitude, I said to myself. And it worked.

Some among us might have careers already mapped out, like those off to abroad or already recruited by companies. Some might still be undecided, scared or overwhelmed at the array of possibilities a Filipino and a Sillimanian like he or she could find.

I just fervently hope that we never lose sight of the big picture: that what we do in this world is a tribute to where we come from and who we work for.

From those seats in this amphitheater, we will someday contribute to our loved ones’ tter futures, to our university’s honor and glory, and to our country’s upliftment and stability. Our generation, with its fast pace and world issues knocking on our doors, simply needs to shrug off memories which are only history’s skin, and look forward to a future that while challenging, is going to be fulfilling nonetheless.

With that we can give the grown-up world a feisty hello as we kick and scream to the tunes of reality. Here’s to graduation and to growing up. Congratulations to all of us and good luck!

Last March 16, 2008, I walked to the stage to receive my magna cum laude medal with seven others from our parents, and it was... anti-climactic. Yes, yes, I was happy I finally got to hear the emcee say "Michelle Eve de Guzman, Naga City, Bachelor of Mass Communication." But the people wearing togas around me were different; this stage in my life, this graduation, has been over for me for the longest time. And that is both frustrating and sad.

Being back in Dumaguete for an entire week just made me realize how much I missed my home. From the wide streets to the waves crashing in front of Hayahay, to the closed shops on Sunday and the smell of barbecued tocino and chicken inato. The graduation was just an excuse for me to visit Dumaguete. Because amazingly enough, that was the main draw for me and not the two-day ceremony in my stifling toga.

(Just a note: These aren't my parents. They're the SU President and VPAA.)



Just for an update as my life passes right before my eyes: two good friends just got older this week. Belated happy birthday to JJ, my opao, who turned 25 last March 20, and Claudine, the pancoon, who turned 23 the day after. To the former whose entire early birthday morning was spent with eggs torpedoed to his head, thank you for making me laugh and holding my hand while I slept (among a lot of other things). To the latter, thank you for being someone I can talk to especially when I have nowhere else to go.

Meanwhile, kudos to Marianne for nine consecutive nights spent drinking, to Jordan for finally getting drunk (by the Boulevard no less), to Sir Ian for dropping by Minimik just in time to see us get smashed, to Clyde for setting the Guy Hall bulletin board on fire, to Donna, Lyde and Anna for drunken renditions of boy band cover songs, to Pong who never ceases to spray us with Red Horse, and the rest.

Today, I attended a luncheon with Mom Edith, F. Sionil Jose (he was the commencement speaker at Foundation University), Myrna Peña Reyes Sweet and twin Lorna Peña Reyes Makil, Sir Ian, Ma'am Irma and Sir Alex, Metropost columnists and book lovers, among others. I miss hanging out with writers and like-minded people. There's a certain shared lens with which to view the world. I used to have Litcritters--after each session I always felt reenergized about writing and my mind bubbles over with story ideas and possible characters and writing styles I like. I guess I don't have that in Cebu.

Tomorrow, I'll go back to my room in Mandaue City in preparation for a new week of work. I say new because my boss generously gave me four working days off in addition to the weekend and Holy Week to really make my Dumaguete trip worth it. I look forward to next week... no, not really.

I don't want to go back to Cebu at all. Let me just stay here and live and love and write and read.

-a reflection, a celebration, a prayer during Holy Week