Screengrabbing from graduation videos (and thoughts that came with it)

Tonight I came across the videos my father took on my graduation day, shaky snippets that showed me smiling most of the time, comfortable in the company of friends and confident in knowing I had made it through something.

There they were, the various moments of that day in my father’s point of view (yes, with running commentary) — I in the backseat of my uncle’s car (which Pa borrowed specially for the event), giving my father a reluctant, toothless smile as he beams “My daughter, the graduate,” then ignoring him and the camera; the faculty members walking inside the PICC plenary hall to the Graduation March and the students’ applause; collegiate basketball star (and former classmate) Dylan Ababou graciously granting photo-ops to eager fans-slash-batchmates; and, of course, my 15 seconds onstage (when my folks cheer me on), walking toward the faculty regent, a smile plastered on my face, to let him move the tassel on my cap from left to right.

In the middle of smiling silly, I opened a clip taken after the ceremonies, showing a sea of heads and my father saying, “Saan na ba ‘yun?” As if using a telescope than a camera. Zoom, zoom, zoom, then he finds me.

I was with my girl friends from class, moving closer as we line up for a shot. “Ayun, nagpapa-picture,” Pa quipped, probably to Ma and to a family friend who helped send me to college.

The camera flashed on our smiles. Mine was the biggest one (it always has been for some reason) that it made me look singkit.

We break apart after a few shots. Me, still smiling as we engage in small talk. Marah, the jolly baby of our group, was teasing my thesis adviser (yes, the only “thorn” among the roses in this barkada) in an attempt to put her cap on his head.

Then, it happened quickly, the scene that led me to screengrabbing — Thesis Adviser, Marah, and I gather for a hug.

(Pa speaking in the BG: “Prof yata nila ‘yun, niyakap nila oh! Pero iba ang suot, hindi toga.”)

Screencaps of a happy time from Papa's "masterpiece"

(Disclosure: Yes, I am friends with my thesis adviser. But I didn’t like him instantly. I thought he was corny. I still do. Sometimes. *grin* Also, silly for believing in me too much. And for not looking after his heart.)

I hit “Pause” and just sat staring at this frozen moment.

Thesis Adviser and I met last week and he told me how fascinated he was about the past creeping into our now, as if saying “I happened so you can be here.”

I wanted to tell him that I don’t understand. I don’t get how I ended up with the “bone-crushing insecurity and cluelessness about your place in the world” (Mark ‘E’ Everett, 2010) when I did my best to get to March 2011 and past it. Why everyone has moved forward, skipping and whistling a happy tune, while I am just trying to put one foot in front of the other (sometimes with that urge to crawl my way through).

He must’ve read my thoughts. We met for dinner a few days after that. While waiting for our order, he told me about how he disappointed his bosses when he was 21 years old (I was barely a toddler then, I wanted to tease him but didn’t).

“Pinagalitan ako,” he said a few times. I wanted to slap him and say that getting lost in life this early is worse than being scolded at work. I listen anyway. (Long story short, he sees these bosses years later and they were pleased at the work he has chosen to take on.)

“Last Sunday’s sermon fits you,” he went on, smiling. “The priest said, ‘How will you know the richness of the good times if you didn’t suffer?’”

My grilled cheese makes it on the table. I silently thank the food for its perfect timing. I didn’t know what to tell him.

I’m so clueless that I’m still up thinking about it.