I would always feel sorry for failing my fellow campus ambassadors as their chairperson. Where previous leaders successfully organized projects that propelled the corps to dynamism, I was torn between managing finances of the school paper and doing practically all ambassador stuff by myself, refusing to designate assignments as should be.
As the officially elected chairperson Angel Amador’s second in command, I assumed the highest position and therefore the most crucial responsibility upon learning of her out of school status, confused as to where my loyalty lay. At that time, I was almost finished with the Weekly Silliman budget proposal I was drafting with then editor in chief Michelle De Guzman and was as good as pledging 100% of my time and service to the school publication. Now I couldn’t stop thinking had I remained vice chair, would I have been more efficient and productive in my tWS job? Or, if I had resigned and concentrated on campus ambassador affairs, how many vital projects and activities would I have organized?
It was evident that I sucked at multi-tasking, and with two demanding positions at that. My worries with being chairperson didn’t even begin with having to juggle these two commitments on top of wanting to redeem my class standing which I shamefully failed to achieve.
The campus ambassadors always know how, what, and when to speak. We undergo a strict screening process consisting of three phases. We uphold the tradition of choosing competent individuals possessed with the spirit of volunteerism; whose proficiency in spoken English is and should be untainted. We hone each other's social skills and the ability to easily strike meaningful conversations with people from different walks of life, and empathize with them. We are trained with experience, and with every verbally inflicted bruise, we conduct research to replenish our memory banks and value the importance of self-regulation even more.
The organization is home to a few of Silliman’s assets: members of the school publication, presidents and governors of colleges and organizations, runners of the student government, exchange students, and achievers in their own right. It is up to the chairperson, as the leader of student leaders so to speak, to take initiative in creating and sustaining an environment for these strong personalities to work harmoniously for the glory of the corps.
I knew I failed them because the projects I spoke of during our first general assembly never materialized. What about reviving the organization’s spirit and placing ourselves in the limelight that we once graced? Of bringing back the prestige that slowly left us? This was my pride talking, fueled by the memory of Ate Rose saying “ingon si Kuya Jojo nimo hinay daw ka mulihok og mga projects”.
I could only blame myself for knowing that though I couldn’t handle the job I still accepted position because the accompanying prestige was so tempting. And even though I was perfectly aware of my grammatical blunders, my inability to speak English worthy of a chairperson, and my abysmal ratings at socializing, I let my ambitions swallow me ignorant and still carried on without so much as a consideration for reelection. I was never fit to be a chairperson.
Gosh, I was embarrassed with myself. With Angel gone, I could’ve jumpstarted our first meeting with a snap election or something instead of handing out pamphlets whose plans and agenda never came into existence. I felt like a loser in a winner’s circle trying to fit in but obviously spilling beans of her mislaid self. Perhaps I had what it took to lead the “prestigious” society of leaders, but failing to maximize my potential when I had a chance hurt more than a thousand jabs. I could’ve done something worth preserving.
All I could remember of my term was the sound of my fellow campus ambassador’s boisterous laughter and the bond of tuploks formed within meetings, after-tour lunches, and more outings than usual not to mention an out-of-town IPR. That I will always be proud of the connection established among members was not enough. Why would it be when some of Silliman still doesn’t know we exist?
Dear Someone,
Lord knows how you'd react if you came across this letter. But don't get me wrong. This isn't a hate mail nor a question of authority. I am just wondering why in all our years as father and daughter together, I don't feel that heart-wrenching bond typical among fathers and daughters. The usual picnic by the beach (well, the last time we did that was six years ago), unspoiled malling or restaurant hopping, and laidback unrestricted conversations. And I mean no talks and plans about my future, no pestering about my inability to speak Mandarin or Fookien (which I can fairly understand but couldn't speak), no comparisons with my brother, no words of profanity and deriding insults about my mother's non-Chinese heritage and subservience.
You're my father and I love you so very much but I do not know you at all. I know your name, your birthday, your pet peeves, your mood swings, but I don't know what you like. I know Sioti and I make you happy, and impressive scholastic achievements make you proud, but I just can't figure out what makes you cry. I know God makes you strong, that your family and your work propels you, but I want to know how you were brought up and what kind of people your parents are.
As much as I love you, I hate it when you say the pictures I send you are not clear or professional enough. I hate it when you say my brother's english is way better than mine. I hate it when you don't show my mother the same affection you give your children, and I hate to expect that you and Mama will never get back together again. Will you stop supporting her as soon as Sioti goes to college? I really don't give a damn whether you separate ways or not. I'm assuming that you don't really respect her (remember the CDO hotel incident? You made her cry and I never quite gotten over that) and that you're irked by her presence. You don't seem to give her importance and that more than ticks me off!
I hate it when you expect a LOT from me. Do you really expect me to excel at EVERYTHING? I know I'm competitive, I'm fueled by that subtle drive to desperately want to please everyone. I want to try and learn everything, to the point of wondering what I truly desire most out of life, what I truly want to be.
Where were you when I needed someone to talk about something? You know, I was always fine with having an absentee father but an absentee father who doesn't give personal details about his life and whereabouts is way to irritating. I can't tell you my inhibitions, I can't open up and freely talk about sex, drugs, alcohol, and I'd definitely talk to you about boys over my dead body. Most importantly, I can't talk to you about my weakness. Hell, I can't even tell you when and why I'm suffering. I wouldn't want you to have a wimp for a daughter.
I just miss you and I wish I were three years old again. I wish you tell us things and I wish I could tell you things...you know I wouldn't trade you for any father in the world but I still wish you'd just explain why you chose to keep your secrets...
