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The following is one of the articles I wrote for our school paperThe Anthonian somewhere in 2005 or 2006. Please visit my blog at www.blogaddict.info toread my other write-ups. Thanks!

The Flutist

Life is such a joke;However, not the kind you can easily laugh at.

They say that there are things that happen when least expected. And so if they ever come,they will have a great impact on your life. It could be tough and painful. You would feel that, asif, the universe has conspired against you and you could do nothing but to catch the hellfire of them.I guess they’re right. I guess I was feeling the same way right now.It had been hours since the moon and the stars had completely crept up to where the sunhad been. Long before, my usual gaze at them should have lulled me to sleep. But it was strange —the night or even the sleep-inducing classical music I used to listen to didn’t have any effect onme. More odd, I was starting to remember, not the big important things—the dreams and goalsthat I’d been trying to achieve, the plans for the years ahead and of hope and love that I’d beenworking so hard for—no, certainly not them—but just the details of how, from a not-so-talentedfamily, a music aficionado, then a musician was formed…and a big stupidity came out.It all started one day—perhaps ten or eleven years ago. My mother brought me to a playand mind you, it was a rather boring one. I felt like catching forty winks. I thought that I couldn’t be up on the duration so I decided to take a nap. I fell asleep but then, not so long. A melodioussound had gone through my ears and pulled me back to earth. As I opened my eyes, I sawsomebody playing a musical instrument. For an unknown reason, I got this weird feeling. It wassomething that I could only describe as I-don’t-know-what. I asked mom what instrument was being played and she said that it was a flute. I smiled at myself and at that very moment, I

blogaddict.info

The following is one of the articles I wrote for our school paperThe Anthonian somewhere in 2005 or 2006. Please visit my blog at www.blogaddict.info toread my other write-ups. Thanks!

instilled in my mind that, someday, I would be playing the same flute piece as good as that person and nobody could ever stop me from doing so. Nobody!My desire to learn how to play flute grew in time. To my frustration, I would be everydayrehearsing my simple lines on how to tell it to my parents. Until eventually, I asked mom if shecould buy me one and to my disappointment, she replied with a “Dear, don’t you know thatyou’re asking something that is too costly? If you really want to have one, you need to work hardfor it.” I didn’t bother to ask Dad. Whatever mom said…that was it. But me, to work for it?Imagine her telling that to a child! Pitiful me! But I had no choice, did I?It was really a tough process—walking under the heat of the sun (sometimes under therain) on schooldays, and trying to resist the temptation of spending even just a single centavo for at least two years. Whew, I would be more than lucky if mom could give me an extra penny. Butanyway, my suffering paid off.I had acquired a second-hand metal flute and of course, a book on how to play it. After afew months, I was amazed at how fast my development was. I eventually became good at playing it. Then, my brother was born. At infancy, my parents and I became his nanny. When heturned five, he started showing interest in music. He would always ask me to play him a piece before sleeping. So, I decided to teach him. He was good. He learned fast, faster than me.At first I was happy of the outcome but in the end, I started to envy him and eventually,hate him. Dad and mom would always praise him and at times, boast him before their friends.They had even bought him a brand new flute. It was extremely humiliating! How could they givehim something that it took for me more than two years of hardships to have? How could theyhave possibly given him the recognition that they should have given me first? But of course, I am

blogaddict.info

The following is one of the articles I wrote for our school paperThe Anthonian somewhere in 2005 or 2006. Please visit my blog at www.blogaddict.info toread my other write-ups. Thanks!

the older one—as they say, I should learn how to give and give and understand. He was just aninnocent child anyway; he didn’t know what was happening.The situation got worse when I reached college. I became a silent rebel. I seldom talkedto my parents (unless I needed money). I stopped teaching my brother; he had to learn all byhimself. I stopped playing the flute. I was always out home. And nobody even asked me why. Ifelt alone. Saddened. Angry.Then came one particular night. I had brought home a book and a starting scratch for my project, which would be submitted a week after. It was important. Things being as they were, itmeant a great deal to me. It had to be right; it meant so much.And just as I opened the book, my brother came with a flute and a sheet of paper. Heunrolled the paper, showed it to me and said, “Look. I think this piece is a good one. What doyou think?”I glanced up and said, “Oh fine. I think so.”“I’ve found this in the internet.” He paused for a while and asked, “Would you mind playing this for me?”I didn’t answer. He just stood there as I paged through the book, looking for necessarydata I needed for my project. And his voice, with shy and hopeful inflection was politely saying,“Please play this one for me, please.”“No, not just now. I’m busy. Maybe some other time,” I answered then continued withmy work.“But it won’t take long.”“Can’t you just do it yourself? You know how to play,” I told him with my voice raised.“But you play better than I do… please just once then I will leave. I promise.”