Tomorrow is the first Visayan Universities Debate Championship - Silliman's response to the need to spread debating in our beloved Visayas.

But more than just that, it's also a chance to:

1) establish that no Visayan debate institution is as good as Silliman University Debate Society (well of course, in the future, they could be. But not now.)

2) prove to our coach that we're not just sarcastic people with big mouths, but we're also an organization, capable of making things happen through working with each other.

I had high hopes for these goals.

I worked my butt off in the powermatching to be in the best team. To be in the team that people would be expecting to take the championship. I guess you could say that I got my wish, but I'm not sure if we'll ever be able to pull this one through. Lack of practice. Loss of passion. Doubt.

The organizing committee, I could say, has been running to and fro, cramming to make sure everything is alright. But it seems as if no matter how hard we work, we're being chased by problems! It's like we've been destined to fail. And why do all these come out just days before the event? It's so effed up!

And now, the day before the tournament, even more problems come. Debaters backing out, people refusing to help, participants moving their flights, money not coming in, EVERYTHING! Ugh! I feel like drowning.

I just hope tomorrow will be fine.

Forgive me. Ranting is my therapy.

I was lying on my bed last night, staring blankly at the ceiling, when I looked to my left and saw the mess on what was supposed to be my "resting place." And so, in the tradition of some people trying to give people a peek of what they have in their bags, I would like to grant you the privilege of knowing what stuff I have lying around on my precious bed.

--> my ragged wallet with two twenty-peso bills in it. (I guess I'm broke.)
--> my ID... eew. I look bad in my picture.
--> Geliah's Christmas gift - an unopened Houston Rockets keychain
--> the most beautiful red guitar and on top of it was a chord chart
--> my Rain cologne
--> coffee addict notebook
--> my Maong sling bag... which obviously needs a vacation to the washing machine.
--> the debate training module I was working on
--> a hairbrush with a few long strands stuck in between bristles. yuck.
--> Pablo Neruda's The Captain's Verses with a bookmark in between the Spanish and the English version of my favorite Neruda love poem, If You Forget Me
--> a correction pen I just bought yesterday
--> The Last Time I Saw Mother by Arlene J. Chai. Seriously, I gotta finish the book.
--> my scribbles notebook opened on the page I wrote my last emotional ranting
--> my new organizer, courtesy of Philam Life

That's about it. And oh yeah, lots and lots of loose paper.

I really have to clean my room. =)

There is a time for departure even when there's no certain place to go. - Tenessee Williams

I saw him today. =)

I haven't seen him in weeks - not since the day he summoned us to talk about something important. I missed him terribly, but I knew that time was way too much to ask, considering how busy we both were. Sure, I would see him once in a while, but definitely unlike before when everything - every activity, every bonding - was all about him.

On that day when we last saw each other, and when everybody else was gone, I decided to tell him about my latest predicament. He was, after all, one of the few people I trusted with my emo-stories and secrets. I'd say our conversation lasted for about ten minutes - that was when I was driving him home. He listened to me, and asked me random questions. I answered him truthfully, just like the old times.

He was never the type who would comfort you and tell you that things will be ok. Always frank, and a borderline know-it-all, he pretty much told me that I deserved the problem and gave me a lecture (well, more like advised me) to not make the same mistake again. Other people who didn't know him well would, I guess, be slightly offended. I, on the other hand, just smiled and acknowledged what he had to say. This was definitely one of the reasons why I liked him so much.

I was hoping the drive would last longer, but his place was too near, and there was barely traffic. He told me he'd want to talk more soon, but I knew he was just being polite. Well, even if he really meant it, I knew for a fact that he was as busy as I was, and we had no means of communication - except if someone would bump into me accidentally and would tell me where he was.

The truth is, I didn't want to expect. I had too much of that from him in the past.

But I saw him today - somewhere I never expected he'd be. He was as handsome, and as stern-looking. He didn't notice me at first - to my advantage, because I had a little moment of just 'staring' at him.

Finally, I was able to mutter a 'hi'. He looked up and his face brightened as he greeted me with a surprised, yet sincere smile. I used to have these smiles all the time.

He asked me what I was doing there, and I told him that this was pretty much the place where I usually sought peace of mind and drowned my thoughts in the silence.

I sat down in front of him, and started a little chat, which ended after a few minutes. He resumed what he was doing, and I started to read Timothy Montes' Vic Pura. Could there be a more perfect story to have at that very moment?

I kept glancing at him, obviously unable to concentrate on the story (note to self: read it again.)

I remember when we were always together - of course, we would be louder than we were right now. I always thought of him as the leader, followed his every command, even if he didn't require me to. I figured it would be the best way to spend more time with him - I was always happy when he was there.

Gradually, I started feeling something else - something which I denied at first, a feeling that I never wanted and dangerously the one thing that could destroy everything we have built.

For so long I struggled against the emotion, almost begging for it to go away. I was starting to do things I would never do before. I was giving up, succumbing to whatever that was that drew me to him more and more.

It was a one-way traffic thing, as my friends used to say. It was crazy, and hell, umpossible. So I did what I had to do. I detached myself. I led myself into thinking that forgetting him was the best thing to do, even if it meant going away. It was a decision I had to make. And I did.

"I have to go," he said, as he picked up his things hurriedly.

"Ah, ok. Bye," I replied softly.

"See you around then." He answered back, and gave me another hearty smile.

I followed him with my gaze, and heaved a sigh. I wondered what it would have been like if I stayed close to him, or if I gave in to the feeling I once had. Would it have hurt more than it did when I left? But I knew it was too late to be trying to analyze things.

I pretended to read again, drowning myself in stories that temporarily colored my world.