Lessons from a Stranger
I’ve had a couple of awkward moments that I had managed to save myself from (or had executed social suicide when things come to worst). Awkward moments are awkward, but some of them are so awkward that it doesn’t actually make me feel awkward when I think about it. (How many times did I say “awkward”?) One of them is my awkward moment with a total stranger I met on the last day of July this year.
I hopped on a public transportation (since I’m not rich and don’t have a car) to go to my friend’s house. This stranger came in after maybe two minutes. I have this habit of looking at all the faces of new, incoming passengers, and I did. I saw him and looked away… and looked back again. He looked so familiar that I just stared at him for a couple of seconds. It was kind of rude, really, but he was
also staring at me. I realized he looked like one of the professors in my school. I smiled and said, “Hello, Sir! I didn’t know you live in this area.” He asked me why I was in that area also and where I went. I told him the place. It was getting awkward since the professor-I-thought-he-was and I barely talked in school. (Really, I wasn’t planning on talking to him but it would be disrespectful if I didn’t acknowledge him, right?)
He asked me, “In what station are you assigned now?” I didn’t know what my face looked like at that moment, but my mind was forming words like
WTF is this? Station? Umm. This is weird. I looked away for a moment because it was really becoming awkward and I knew it was already a mistaken identity problem. I kept my cool and said, “What station? What do you mean, Sir?” I gave him a moment to realize what I just realized and sink in what had just sunk in my mind. Then I let out a giggle.
I told him I had mistaken him for my professor and he said that he had also mistaken me for his former student. I apologized a couple of times, and he said that it was okay. It was weird – the whole nine yards. He joked, “I didn’t know there’s someone out there that looked like me.” I continued throwing nervous giggles and slapping my huge forehead. He asked where I worked and I said that I’m still a student, taking this and that major. Then he said, “Why are you taking that course?” Err… umm… “Because I want to,” I answered.
And the life lessons from this stranger started.
He talked about knowing what our purposes are because we wouldn’t live a complete life if we don’t. “Where do you see yourself after, say, five years? Would you have regrets with what you had done when you look back?” I didn’t answer because I’m not that kind of person, and because I thought it was a rhetorical question. He shared that when he was young he wanted to be an Agricultural Engineer because he wanted to help in cultivating good food for the people, but his father sent him to a Civil Engineering school (I didn’t know what happened). He talked about happiness and God and faith (and I felt uncomfortable because I didn’t like sharing what I think about God and faith with others; these are personal things). He said that the youth nowadays are becoming rebels because their parents don’t listen to them. I agreed. “If you want something, you should learn to defend it and reason out.”
I just nodded and nodded because I’m not a conversationalist unless it’s about books or the RH Bill. He continued talking. When I was becoming really quiet that it seemed offensive already, I asked, “So you mean, Sir, everything we want is always good for us?” He answered that yes, it is, just as long as we know why we wanted it in the first place and why we think it’s good for us. For an example, he used Cong. Manny Pacquiao’s journey to where he is right now. Pacquiao’s family didn’t want him to get into boxing before because, hello,
boxing. Competitive boxing is only safe if you don’t get punched anywhere or if your opponent is disabled. But Pacquiao wanted to do it because it’s his passion and the only way to unbind his family from the chains of poverty. He did: He unbounded his family and gave them mansions and half a million pesos worth of designer bags; he’s the champion in several boxing categories; he’s a politician; he eats breakfast in London, lunch in Beijing and dinner in Johannesburg; he allots time for preaching and religion; he helps people. He’s successful because he knew what he wanted even before JK Rowling released
Harry Potter and made every kid cry because Hogwarts doesn’t really exist. He knew what his goals are from the very start.
He reached his destination, and I felt half relieved and half upset. I was
relieved because I’m not really a smart talker and I would just embarrass the shit out of me; I was
upset because I still wanted to ask some things since,
duh, I can relate. His parting words were, “Just keep in mind what your goals are and do everything to accomplish them. Good luck.”
Sir, I don’t know what your name is or if we will still meet in one of these commuting trips, but thank you. I’m still incompletely sure with what I want, but when
incomplete becomes
complete, I swear on the River Styx: I’d stand up for it.
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
Lessons from a Stranger
I’ve had a couple of awkward moments that I had managed to save myself from (or had executed social suicide when things come to worst). Awkward moments are awkward, but some of them are so awkward that it doesn’t actually make me feel awkward when I think about it. (How many times did I say “awkward”?) One of them is my awkward moment with a total stranger I met on the last day of July this year.
I hopped on a public transportation (since I’m not rich and don’t have a car) to go to my friend’s house. This stranger came in after maybe two minutes. I have this habit of looking at all the faces of new, incoming passengers, and I did. I saw him and looked away… and looked back again. He looked so familiar that I just stared at him for a couple of seconds. It was kind of rude, really, but he was
also staring at me. I realized he looked like one of the professors in my school. I smiled and said, “Hello, Sir! I didn’t know you live in this area.” He asked me why I was in that area also and where I went. I told him the place. It was getting awkward since the professor-I-thought-he-was and I barely talked in school. (Really, I wasn’t planning on talking to him but it would be disrespectful if I didn’t acknowledge him, right?)
He asked me, “In what station are you assigned now?” I didn’t know what my face looked like at that moment, but my mind was forming words like
WTF is this? Station? Umm. This is weird. I looked away for a moment because it was really becoming awkward and I knew it was already a mistaken identity problem. I kept my cool and said, “What station? What do you mean, Sir?” I gave him a moment to realize what I just realized and sink in what had just sunk in my mind. Then I let out a giggle.
I told him I had mistaken him for my professor and he said that he had also mistaken me for his former student. I apologized a couple of times, and he said that it was okay. It was weird – the whole nine yards. He joked, “I didn’t know there’s someone out there that looked like me.” I continued throwing nervous giggles and slapping my huge forehead. He asked where I worked and I said that I’m still a student, taking this and that major. Then he said, “Why are you taking that course?” Err… umm… “Because I want to,” I answered.
And the life lessons from this stranger started.
He talked about knowing what our purposes are because we wouldn’t live a complete life if we don’t. “Where do you see yourself after, say, five years? Would you have regrets with what you had done when you look back?” I didn’t answer because I’m not that kind of person, and because I thought it was a rhetorical question. He shared that when he was young he wanted to be an Agricultural Engineer because he wanted to help in cultivating good food for the people, but his father sent him to a Civil Engineering school (I didn’t know what happened). He talked about happiness and God and faith (and I felt uncomfortable because I didn’t like sharing what I think about God and faith with others; these are personal things). He said that the youth nowadays are becoming rebels because their parents don’t listen to them. I agreed. “If you want something, you should learn to defend it and reason out.”
I just nodded and nodded because I’m not a conversationalist unless it’s about books or the RH Bill. He continued talking. When I was becoming really quiet that it seemed offensive already, I asked, “So you mean, Sir, everything we want is always good for us?” He answered that yes, it is, just as long as we know why we wanted it in the first place and why we think it’s good for us. For an example, he used Cong. Manny Pacquiao’s journey to where he is right now. Pacquiao’s family didn’t want him to get into boxing before because, hello,
boxing. Competitive boxing is only safe if you don’t get punched anywhere or if your opponent is disabled. But Pacquiao wanted to do it because it’s his passion and the only way to unbind his family from the chains of poverty. He did: He unbounded his family and gave them mansions and half a million pesos worth of designer bags; he’s the champion in several boxing categories; he’s a politician; he eats breakfast in London, lunch in Beijing and dinner in Johannesburg; he allots time for preaching and religion; he helps people. He’s successful because he knew what he wanted even before JK Rowling released
Harry Potter and made every kid cry because Hogwarts doesn’t really exist. He knew what his goals are from the very start.
He reached his destination, and I felt half relieved and half upset. I was
relieved because I’m not really a smart talker and I would just embarrass the shit out of me; I was
upset because I still wanted to ask some things since,
duh, I can relate. His parting words were, “Just keep in mind what your goals are and do everything to accomplish them. Good luck.”
Sir, I don’t know what your name is or if we will still meet in one of these commuting trips, but thank you. I’m still incompletely sure with what I want, but when
incomplete becomes
complete, I swear on the River Styx: I’d stand up for it.
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
Profile
Already several months had passed, and I am missing
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry more and more each fleeting day. There are just some things in life that we can never forget – especially that something that had given us knowledge, skills, strong relationships and a second home. I am glad that everything in the magical world is now at peace, since Voldemort (yes, I can now say his name; no need to be afraid) had died. I had secretly admired Tom Marvolo Riddle (Voldemort’s birth name) though, because of his intelligence, passion and love for magic. Wasn’t he very clever to think of and conjure his seven
Horcruxes to preserve his life, or form a clan of
Death Eaters who were very loyal to him and would give up their lives just for him to succeed? Not everybody can acquire that much loyalty from people these days. I do not, however, admire him for the way he had carried out all of his plans. He had a good agenda, his means just weren’t morally right. But he still is one of the darkest wizards of all time… and let’s leave it that way.
Oh, for all those who are baffled of what I’m saying here and who the heck I am, my name is
Christine Faye Ordas, and I am an alumnus of Hogwarts. I came from the bronze-and-blue-clad house of the smart ass witch Rowena Ravenclaw and her dictum
“Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure.” And yes, I know the wonderful Luna Lovegood (she’s such a darling) and Harry Potter’s first crush Cho Chang. I had just left Hogwarts last May. Right now I am trying to pursue a career in magical researches, literature and writing. It’s my dream to inscribe intellectual books, publish and sell them in
Flourish and Blotts for the future Hogwarts students’ use. I am also planning to credibly write for the
Daily Prophet, the magical world’s primary news bulletin. And of course, I will be very much honored to contribute to Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood’s
Quibbler (hence, my interest in magical researches). I have always found the Lovegoods a fascinating family, and I bet working with and for them will be very exciting. Or maybe, in Merlin’s beard’s time, I can write legends and bedtime stories like the famous – and wickedly brilliant – Beedle the Bard.
And that’s how my life goes these days. I am utterly missing my old school, my friends, the Great Hall, the bronze eagle knocker just outside the Ravenclaw common room, Professor Flitwick (the head of our house), Hogsmeade, the Quidditch matches (although I didn’t actually play for the house), the moving portraits, the castle ghosts, the pumpkins on Halloween, the giant pine trees on Christmas, Rubeus Hagrid’s (Hogwarts’ gamekeeper) tea and treacle fudge – even the crabby Argus Filch (Hogwarts’ caretaker) I miss. Maybe I can visit the school grounds sometimes and see how the magical world’s been doing since Voldemort died (I’ve been spending my months in the muggle world, you see). I’ve heard everybody’s been moving on and starting all over again; the ministry is back on work under Kingsley Shacklebolt; and Harry Potter’s scar haven’t been disturbing him since.
All is well, indeed.
And because of that, we should celebrate and drink firewhisky! Oh, I still don’t drink firewhisky; I can take butterbeer or tea or pumpkin juice – just not firewhisky, please.
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