Part- time Superhero

Dear Friend,

You are one of my favorite blind items in my blog. Let me reveal your identity by sharing a piece I wrote for your year book ages ago.

Happy Birthday, Rima

                                                                                              

rimaThe eyes speak much of who we are. So when you cover your eyes, you hide one-fourth of yourself. This does not hold true to everyone but with the case of Rima, yes, it does. Not only one-fourth of who she is is covered by her eyeglasses but half of who she is. People portray Rima as someone smart, serious, studious, plain and simple, kind and quiet. There is some truth with how people perceived her but there are greater truths. To add to people’s delusion about her, she sits alone or sits with a group yet she finds herself locked in her wonderland. Then observe her closely, and surprisingly you will discover her mouth moving to speak with no words. And in moments when people think she is quiet, the possible explanation is that sometimes the brain works hard enough that it does not leave time for the mouth to speak. Nevertheless, this is Rima, at least one-half of who she is, or one-fourth rather.

In the qualifying essay exam for shifting in to Journalism, she wrote there that it was her childhood dream to be a journalist. Her self-prophecy might eventually become her reality because now, she thinks like a journalist, acts like a journalist, and writes like a journalist. She can meet deadlines no matter what time she starts her work. She is dedicated to her work that sometimes it leaves her trauma when her laptop shuts off at the night before the deadline. And God knows how many drops of tears she shed to finish an article. Well, all students cram but not all students have much success from cramming. Thank heavens though, that she can work under pressure. She wakes up at 6:30 for her 7am class. And like the speed of the bullet, she now has her clothes on and combs her hair. For all we know, superheroes have to cram and work on the very last minute. For her speed and agility, Rima is a superhero in some sense.

Our heroine then gathers information for the day and begins with who, what, when, where and why. Who and another who, when and another when, where and another where, why and another why are all important to her. That‘s how journalistic she is or that’s how nosy she is. Nevertheless, she searches for more and more facts and details. This also includes spending quality time with the newspaper vendor, the photocopier at the library, the security guard and all the people from different walks of life. And so she is a journalist in the making.

Also, she said that writing for news is an art. Having a pair of glasses for blurry eyes does not necessarily mean having artists’ eye. She does have an artist’s name, though. Rima is a Filipino word for rhyme. A link to her name would probably explain why she finds inner rhythm within words whether it is in poetry or in straight news.

And everybody remembers Rima as someone having wings on her back and a halo floating on top of her head. This is not to say that they are wrong. But she would be happier to hear if you remember her as Beyonce or Mariah Carey. But can you imagine a girl with wings on her back would sing ‘Touch my body?’

So this girl, who acts, thinks, writes like a journalist, sings Beyonce’s song and the next thing you’ll see her do is watching Gossip Girl. But, behold, she indulges herself in business, economics, geography. These sound pretty heavy for someone who has a special addiction for SIMS. While she takes care of her own family, dream house, and love affair in the computer game SIMS, she is also concerned with graphs and figures. Maybe she finds art in numbers as she finds art in words. Maybe numbers and figures have rhyme to her as what her name implies, Rima.

The most lovable trait of Rima is that anybody can make her happy. Her happiness is found on a simple slice of cake, or a slice of pizza, or a doughnut, in short, food. She is fully aware that the most basic need of human existence is food. So she cannot trade a box of chocolates with a new branded skinny jeans . If you ask her why, she would say, “It’s impractical.” For her, fashion, glamour, parties are secondary because the most basic need of human existence is food.

The image of Rima with wings on her back and a halo on top of her head appears again. Someone might describe Rima being pure in heart. “Pure in heart” is such a cliché to describe somebody as if there are no better words left. But this is the true Rima that is visible to others. Her roommates back in Ilang Residence Hall would wait patiently for Rima to come home with the hope that she brings take-home food. She fills their empty stomachs. Also, she is a friend who will accompany you in the narrow streets of Divisora. She will spend the whole day with you in Divisoria buying a single belt while you do the rest of the shopping. To prove that she is pure in heart, she saves her first kiss for her wedding day. A memory of Drew Barryome of the movie, Never Been Kissed flashes. Therefore, “pure in heart” is not a substitute for having no better words.

Behind the pair of glasses is a part- time superhero and a part-time journalist. But the most visible part of who she is is the wings and the halo she do not hide. Some things about her remain hidden. This is when her brain works hard enough and leaves no time for her mouth to speak. We might only see one-fourth of who she is. But the rest of who she is can be seen in her writings, in her true copy of grades, and in the people who guessed and were right in perceiving her as a girl with wings on her back and halo on top of her head.

The Preacher’s Wife

“Do you want to marry a preacher and be like your mom?”

I blatantly reply: “No, I don’t want.”

It’s not because I don’t believe in my dad’s work. Of course, I love and admire my parents. I appreciate the efforts they make to give us a quality life. I just think it’s more difficult to be a preacher’s wife than to be a single parent. I can’t imagine having the kind of life my mom has. I don’t like to submit myself to my husband (hehe) and  I am not caring, amiable by nature. But in truth, I looked up to my mother as an ideal woman and I know the challenges that my mom has to deal with as a preacher’s wife.

A lot of people claim that they are mission-minded and they like to serve the Lord. Though these people are worthy of admiration, I sometimes question how long can these people keep their enthusiasm.To some, working for the church provides opportunity to pay their misdeeds. To some joining the ministry might be a life-changing catalyst. To my parents, it is their life.

My mom married at the age of nineteen, spent almost all her life with my dad. Did I mention somewhere that she gave birth to seven children? At first she had five children while she continued to maintain a 22-inch waistline. After 14 years, she had two unexpected children. Having a lot of children is enough work load but  her role does not end there.  She has to help my dad with some people skills

Our house functions like an inn, a coffee shop, a bank, and DSWD. We would have random visits as if we are a social service center. My mom worries for a lot of people. Sometimes, my mom has to deal with people who are financially troubled. Someone needs to be visited in the hospital. Someone needs tuition fee, medicine, and bus ticket.

My mom prepares meals for a large group of people. She cooks for church workers, participants of youth and family camps, fellowships and feeding program. She should always be friendly, caring and ready to serve. She invites every new comer in the church to our house. And let’s add the fact that she has to please everyone. My mom teaches in ladies’ class and in church events, she acts like a project manager, a facilitator, an operations head. These are some of the things I can’t do. She is a busy home maker and a preacher’s wife. While I love my own space, my mom expands her home to accommodate more people.

Let me end with a short note to my mother:

Thank you ma for taking care  of me even if  I am such a difficult child. Thank you for bearing my tantrums. Thank you for peeping into my bedroom before you go to sleep.  Thank you for not requiring anything from me and accepting me just as I am.  Thank you for giving me more than enough.  I’m also sorry for being ill-tempered at times. Good news, I’m working on it hehe…You are the best mother in the whole world! I love you very much! And you are the only person in my life whom I find greatest comfort and greatest love! Happy Mother’s Day! 

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