Someday, I'll Find My Way Home

Karl has a dream.

I have a dream.

This dream is very simple yet I held on to it since I graduated from elementary. Ever since I made my parents cry after the school awarded me the medal for becoming the valedictorian, it made me happy. When they held my hand while we were walking in the stage, I could feel the callouses on their hands from working harder every day to sustain my education.

Then I made a mental promise to myself. First, I want a high-paying stable job so that I could provide the very best to my parents and, hopefully, fund the education of my two sisters who were still in Elementary. I want to at least lessen the burden to my parents. Thank God I was accepted to the DOST Scholarship program, which made my tuition free of charge, and some extra pocket money to feed myself.

Second, I want a child. If a girl, Taylor, after Taylor Swift. If a boy, Brendon, after Brendon Urie. In this society that I live in, it probably isn't the best time to have a child. But it's for the future me to solve, not now.

Third, I want to live in Canada. It solidified after hearing from my aunt, who was living with her family on Canada, on how great it is to live there. I want to experience snow in my palm. I want to grow a backyard beside my house there. The culture, the government. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough for me.

And finally, fourth, is to be happy.

That's it.

It seems weird for me to talk about these when I was sitting in my first large class in university. Truth is, I feel awkward and out-of-place among the crowd. I was the only one who passed the UPCAT in my school, which added my anxiety about going to an unknown place all by myself. I had no friends, no one to talk to, and everybody seemed to be talking in peers already!

Calm down, Karl. I focused on listening to Taylor Swift's Fearless album instead. It was on constant repeat because I was hyping myself on the rumors of her new album in Fall. I repeatedly tapped my ballpen on my notebook while sitting on the fourth row close to the wall on the right side of the aisle. It wasn't far enough to see through the projector, but it wasn't close enough that I would receive the professor's saliva. Ew.

I focused on the things I would do instead. I would tour the campus again, because I already forgot the different buildings said on the Campus Tour. Then, check out some carinderias outside the university that would fit in my budget. 

Maybe talk to some people? I don't know. Maybe next week. Or start talking to my blockmates? Nah.

A lot of people came in the lecture hall. I shifted my eyes around the hall instead. The walls had clean, white paint. I reminded myself on the top of my notebook to bring my jacket next time because the airconditioning working overtime. I was sitting on a monobloc chair and the whole row had one single table that could fit in four to five students, depending on their body mass of course.

A guy walked in front of the aisle and moved in my direction. Shoot. I removed my bag on the empty chair next to me so he could sit.

He was one of the guys who doesn't look like a freshman. He could pass of as a Junior instead. He had a mint green polo paired with black knee-length shorts and white sneakers. He placed his bag next to mine and removed his sunglasses. He placed his iPhone 5s on the table and grabbed his notebook from his bag.

Ugh. The urge of not liking him already increased the moment he sat next to me. He smells like a rich person would. He looks something that I wasn't.

I shifted my eyes in front of the projector screen instead.

A finger poked my shoulder.

"Hey, you're not the professor, right?"

His voice was deep and in need of water. I bet he doesn't have one, because rich people only buy bottled water so as to not ruin their fashion.

"What makes you think that I am?" I replied. I knitted my eyebrows.

"You're not?"

"Yes, I'm not. Are you?"

"Nope. Just a freshman."

"Okay, then."

Focus on Taylor's music, Karl!

He poked my shoulder again. I removed one bud of my earphones and looked at his direction.

"Are you also a freshman?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Let me guess: you're not a talkable type?"

"Nope," I answered too quickly as I shifted my eyes once more.

"Too bad," he commented. "I'm Axel, by the way. You are?"

He extended his hand to mine. I have no choice but to abide to the societal norms, so I shook his hand.

"Just call me Karl."

"Cool. Course?"

"Computer Science."

"That's cool! I'm also ComSci!" His eyes glittered with interest. "Your block?"

"ST1."

"I'm on ST1 as well!"

"Really? That's great!" Keep on holding that plastic smile, Karl, until this conversation ends naturally.

"May I see your schedule?"

As a reflex, I pulled my notebook slightly more in my body. I was conscious about my schedule and how I designed it. For a lot of reasons. I was really particular about schedules that I made myself a weekly schedule of routine. I am also very particular on how I write my notes on my notebook.

And to keep on with the conversation, I opened the first page of my notebook and handed him my schedule.

"Uh-huh. We're classmates on the Lecture and Recit on MATH17..." He scanned his schedule, which was on his phone, and mine, on a notebook. See the difference already?

"...and we're subjects on SOSC1, both Lecture and Recit as well..."

I looked at the way he reads--his face was almost near my notebook but far away from his phone. Is my handwriting that small?

"... and also in NASC1 Lecture and Recit! We're almost superclassmates."

Hearing those words removed a small needle on my heart. Relieved wasn't the nearest word to describe it.

"That's impossible."

"Well, someday I'll be talking the hell out of you," he said with a wink. "Look, there's our professor."

I found the right word: grateful.