If I were in His Shoes.

I’d probably be a volleyball superstar.

I’d probably be an individual who is morally upright, who respects God’s existence, and of course, a good boy. Like every parent wanted their children to be.

I could have not known my girlfriend(s). I could have not known blogging, or Spongecola.

Choices are choices. There’s no turning back. We have the options, we have the power to choose between democracy and communism, between shoes of different price and of different labels, between the seminary and the normal teenage life. But once I made my decision and it was final, I can’t use an eraser to undo my move. I need to stick with it.

But what if – I chose the other way around?

It was my summer vacation to Grade 6 when Wataru (a kabarkada with a Japanese blood stain, though he grew up as a Filipino) informed me about the Seminary. All I thought, the seminary is an aviary of future priests and religious people who would rely on reading the Bible than watching a stupid gameshow. No, he proved me wrong. You could play any sports you like, you could eat whatever you like (mostly, the seminary implements the Go, Glow, and Grow), and study like a normal guy. You could also spend days outside the seminary and with your family, just go back after you have unwinded. Still, there are limitations and disadvantages of being imprisoned in that cage of constant spiritualization.

I helped him once in his Leonardo Da Vinci assignment while playing Playstation 2 and talking on the phone with her elementary classmate, Katrina – who by then, is his fucking crush. Then, we talked about being in the seminary. No girls. This means no girlfriends (and it echoes up to forever: girlfriends, girlfriends, girlfriends. . .). Your girlfriend must be God.

He narrated his experience with a priest in the seminary, asking him what would be his plans in the future; why stay in the seminary? I wanted to be a priest, he lied. Off he went to the bed and somehow, sobbed. The cage ruined his life for some reasons. It made him a slave of God; in a good sense, though. He can’t do anything because his parents and his long-haired, Christ-like grandfather who would let himself be crucified when Holy Week comes as a spiritual cleanser and with hands bleeding, would run through the streets of this subdivision; he said yes to the seminary. Besides, his kuya Yosho (a year older from him and happened to be in our barkada) was there in the seminary – also persuaded by the tension in the family.

He made his choice; an indelible ink that would leave an imprint in his life. Though he became a prisoner, locked up in bars that separates the seminary’s compound and the rest of the world.

I, on the verge of choosing a good school for High School, asked my Dad about the seminary. He liked the idea, but I disagreed. I don’t like to be IN there, I shouted. Then fine, he shouted back. And besides, I have no idea of priesthood or such seminaries that would masturbate me with bible passages. Anak, hindi naman porket seminarista ka – magpapari ka na; and seminaries are not just only for spirituality.

Still, I dismissed the idea. I do not know if a certain God called me to be a priest, all I know is that once in childhood; I have been living up to my religious name.

After three years, Wataru would be graduating from the seminary. I was in Third Year when I once visited the seminary since there’s a volleyball match in their gymnasium and I was there. I’ve seen him and his mates fixing banderitas. His brother, after graduation, quit the seminary and now taking BS Nursing in a nearby college. I’ve never heard any news about him, maybe he’s taking up Theology because probably, he had loved his life as a seminarian.

Today, I watched the volleyball match of our school versus the seminary which I was planning to enroll four years ago (obviously, it’s an all-boys match). I could’ve replaced one of those players. But then, I have no regrets.

~ by utakgago on November 16, 2006.