Entry XX: Cheers to Another Year
Christmas and New Year. A three-week vacation—one would think it would be enough to rest and recuperate from the mind-numbing demands of the first semester. But before I dive into that, I realize I've yet to tell the story of what happened at our Year-End Party. Looking back, it still brings a mixture of regret, laughter, and gratitude.
The day started with a university-wide Mass at the Ecumenical Chapel, right at the heart of our university. A sacred event that I, unfortunately, missed. I had overslept—classic me. I had intended to attend, but the long nights of studying and wrapping up my responsibilities as Class Mayor had taken their toll. By the time I woke up, the mass had long started. I remember checking the group chat and seeing everyone in uniform, seated solemnly inside the chapel, and there I was, rushing to get ready, guilt gnawing at my chest.
By the time I reached the campus, the Mass was over and the real party had just started in front of the College of Engineering building. The area was lively, decked in holiday banners and with chairs arranged under the wide shade of trees and makeshift tents. A stage had been set up, and students, faculty, and even some alumni were in attendance. Despite the delay, I found solace in being able to join just in time for the Testimonial Luncheon.
Our class decided to position ourselves near the bust of one of our national heroes, right beside the student park. It was an ideal spot—open air, not too close to the speakers, but close enough to witness the ongoing speeches and testimonials. Some of my classmates had ordered food in advance, bringing out their take-out bags and plastic containers like a mini picnic. A few of my fellow officers arrived, including those who had to travel quite a distance to be here. Yet, as expected, most of our class didn't make it. Many of us lived in far-flung towns or municipalities, some hours away from campus.
But one presence truly surprised me—Carl. I had honestly thought he wouldn't come. He hailed from the northernmost part of Nueva Sevilla, one of the more remote and difficult places to travel from. I almost did a double take when I saw him walking across the open grounds.
"Hey bro, I thought you weren't coming?" I asked, genuinely surprised.
He shrugged, a playful grin on his face. "Got bored at home. I figured I'd rather be bored here with you guys."
That made me laugh, and it warmed my heart in a way I didn't expect. There's something different about seeing your classmates outside the confines of academic stress. We joked around, shared food, listened to the inspiring stories of board passers who stood on stage one by one, giving heartfelt testimonies about their journey. They were Geodetic Engineering graduates, and many of them had faced struggles that mirrored ours—financial hardships, sleepless nights, the pressure of living up to family expectations. Their stories resonated deeply with us.
Soon after, the program ended. As quickly as it had started, it dispersed into laughter, hugs, and social media photos. The Year-End Party had concluded, and just like that, vacation had officially begun.
I took that opportunity to switch back to my old social media account. Before doing so, I informed the class through our group chat that any clarifications or concerns could be directed to me through my old account. I thought—perhaps naively—that the vacation would be peaceful. That I could finally rest. That I would enjoy the holiday spirit without the stress of academic responsibilities weighing me down.
But reality had different plans. Some of my classmates started messaging me, asking about grades and subject concerns. I calmly redirected them to ask our professors, particularly Sir Valerio. After all, I didn't have access to all the grading information, and it wasn't something within my control.
Then New Year came and went in a flash. Fireworks, media noche, family reunions. Another year had begun, and it was time to face the second semester.
We returned to the university and were introduced to our new instructors. One by one, we met them—some looked intimidating, others approachable. But the one who stood out most was our PATHFIT 102 teacher, Sir Johnny Dela Cruz. What blew my mind was that he turned out to be one of my father's teachers when he had taken the same course back in his college days. It felt surreal, like time folding in on itself. Sir Johnny was a lively, expressive man with a commanding presence and a knack for making fitness sound philosophical. He treated me kindly, and I could sense he had high expectations.
And then, my birthday month arrived. In the past, I would organize something big—perhaps treat the entire class for lunch, throw a small gathering at the university. But this time, I decided to keep things modest. Instead of calling the whole class, I invited only a few friends—Carl, Yair, Dexter, Rodrick, Chris, and Kayla. We had just finished our Understanding the Self class, and we were free for the rest of the day since our Science, Technology, and Society teacher wasn't going to meet us.
As we exited the building, two of our girl classmates trailed behind us. They weren't initially part of the plan, but since it was just two, and they seemed genuinely eager to join, we welcomed them. The more, the merrier, I thought.
We made our way to the fast-food restaurant near the city market. The place was bustling with students and workers grabbing a bite during their lunch break. We found a long table and settled in, chatting while waiting for our food.
Then, something unexpected happened. As the food arrived and we were about to dig in, Kayla gently clasped her hands and started a prayer.
"Lord, thank You for this meal, for this day, and for this gathering," she said. "But most of all, we thank You for the life of our class mayor. Thank You for his leadership, his patience, and the love he shows our class. May You bless him with more strength and wisdom in the days ahead."
I was speechless. When she finished, the group sang me a warm, heartfelt "Happy Birthday." Right there in a crowded restaurant, I felt more appreciated than I ever expected. I thanked them, barely hiding the emotion in my voice. We enjoyed our meal, laughed over inside jokes, and talked about everything from hobbies to horror stories from the first semester.
After lunch, we returned to the university. I thought the celebrations were over, but I was wrong. Back in the classroom, teacher after teacher walked in, and each of them led the class in singing me a birthday song. Some did it cheerfully, others jokingly, but it all meant the same thing—I was seen. I was appreciated.
And yet, amid the joy, I couldn't shake a strange feeling. It was as though someone was watching me. Eyeing me from across the room. I couldn't quite tell who it was or why I felt that way. Maybe it was paranoia. Or maybe it was my mind trying to catch up with the sudden spotlight I had found myself in.
But I brushed it aside. I told myself to live in the moment. After all, not every day is your birthday.
Now that I look back at everything—the Year-End Party, the start of the second semester, and my birthday celebration—I realize just how deeply I value these people. Even though we're all so different, from different places, backgrounds, and beliefs, we came together. Whether it's attending a testimonial luncheon, supporting each other in class, or saying a prayer before a meal, we've built something special.
This is more than just college. This is a journey we're walking together. And I'm grateful to be walking it with them.
214Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuMw5NFZ6DY
and then Add to home screen.