Interview

Back to my home town now. I learned a lesson in life which I will forever etch in my head: I will never come on time again. Rather, I will come earlier next time. The only event I was looking forward to in Manila didn't turn out well. The admissions committee asked me to come at 1pm on the 19th of February. I came there exactly at 1pm because I had to wait for my friend at Robinson's. When we arrived, a woman in pink was angry, "you are late," she said. "But I thought it's 1pm?" "No, you must come one hour before."

Someone led me to the hall where the other interviewers were seated. I was anxiously waiting for my turn only to find out I might never have mine. Then I was taken back to the lady in pink. She said, "we have to reschedule your interview." "But I live in Davao," I reasoned. My tears nearly squirted. I was holding back, trying to stay firm while waiting for a miracle.

A handsome surgeon in black striped polo suddenly came and said, "I will interview her." No other doctor had wanted to give me another chance. It was supposed to be a panel interview, but he was the only one who was kind enough to hear me out. Finally, I seated and I started speaking with a sobbing heart.

After that, I was wishing to come home immediately so I could meditate. But my flight was yet two days away then. In the evening, I was invited to attend a bar where famous local artists like Paramita and My Odessa were performing. I was never regaled. We went to Laguna then to Tagaytay. Still, the clouds were sulking in defeat and I could do nothing more than carve a forced smile. We went back to Makati to pick up our things. Afterwards we moved to a hotel to spend the rest of the night. My friend came by at our door at around 10 and invited us for leisurely walk by the bay. All I could think of at that time while watching the stars was this: I want to go to UP Medical school this June. Please dear Orion's belt, do not send me off to DMSF.