Daniel Boone
Last week, I spent a night at the Kule office. And finally, I was able to eat supper at peace.
Lately, I had a series of awkward dinners with my family. For while other families spend dinner time to discuss among themselves what happened during the day, my mom and dad have always used it to scold somebody at home. And their main target for almost two months now is me.
The reason is the simple fact that I should have marched along with other graduates last June with a degree in Economics, but things did not go as planned. I shifted courses twice, and to rub salt to the wound, my parents hate my third and current degree program just because they think Journalism is a no-money profession.
Well, to be fair, that’s true, but no amount of money is worth wasting my whole life doing something I really don’t like.
But I went to UP on graduation day. It was nice to celebrate a lunch date with my Econ batchmates who graduated. But the dinner back at home that day turned my initially happy day around. The series of all awkward dinners with my family began with my mom asking how my day went.
At first I was elated; for the first time in a long time, no one’s face would turn red at the dinner table. I said it was okay but did not go on further, and so we all continued chewing on our food. Then there was silence – long and awkward – until my father spoke.
“Gradweyt na ‘yung mga kasabayan mo dati …” he proclaimed like he knew who they were. “Pero ikaw hindi pa,” he continued as if stressing how much of a disappointment I was to them.
His words first broke the silence, then me internally later on. And in a fraction of a moment, I’ve pre-empted in my head what would likely happen in the next couple of minutes. No surprise, it did.
“Eh ‘di dapat pala gradweyt ka na rin ngayon,” he continued speaking, while the rest of us around the table continued eating. But I could already feel a lump down my throat growing. “Gradweyt ka na rin pala dapat ngayon ng Economics. Dapat sana ikaw na ang nag-aasikaso ng trabaho natin. Dapat sana ikaw na ang…”
I want to forget what he said, and I don’t even want to write them down. But I remember how every word that came out of his mouth cut through my chest like knives that night.
And every dinner with them, the exact moment repeatedly plays in my head: my aunts, cousins, mom, and brother looking at me cunningly while I put my head down in despair. Then I had one last bite of my food before awkwardly getting out of the dinner table and rushing to my room just in time before tears started dying down my chin.
It happened almost two months ago, but it’s still fresh in my memory. Every bite of dinners with them tastes either as bitter as my father’s words or as salty as the tears I’ve shed that night. But reality is sweet, nonetheless: I have not even an ounce of regret pursuing a degree that gears me to doing what I love.
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