THE SM GUY NAMED JOHN MARK

The Liberals (2^nd sem)

I was so elated when I learned that John Mark was coming to school. Again.

It was a year ago when he stopped because of the battered reason of all times, financial deficiency.

“Irregular man ko Jo, because I’m working at SM right now,” he shared when we had the chance to talk.

I was more than elated when I learned that. Individuals who do saintly multi-tasking always amazed the envious-me. How did they do that? It was not that easy, even me, my time is swallowed by my studies alone. Well, I was exaggerating; I’m not doing well in my studies either. I’m a pig personified. I even eat like a pig, with a lil grace though.

But John Mark was far from being a pig.

“I shared my situation to the manager and he understood, so, he adjusted my working sched,” he said.

He studied in the morning and worked in the afternoon. And Dr. Angel Pesirla, the gentle monster himself, even granted him a special pass in the institution without wearing the prescribed uniform, which eventually brought him some unwanted recognition, which brought him the name, SM guy. Blame Miss Gina Mantua who baptized him with that nick.

There was a time when I waited for Dr. Angel at his office, so I could pass my one-week late turn-paper. I already formulated and staged some crappy reasons in my head. I would cry, if I had to.

I was talking to the monster, (who) happened to be in good mood, when John arrived.

He hadn’t finished his turn-paper. He was asking for some extension since he got some dilemma in inserting it in his bustling calendar, while, I made mine in between idleness and boredom.

Sir Angel accepted my turn paper and he granted John Mark’s entreaty. He was in good mood, remember?

John and I chatted for awhile. And again, unconsciously, he made me realized how dysfunctional I am.

He asked the manager to let him used his personal computer.

“Magpabaga nalang jud ko ani, Jo. No choice.” He grimaced.

I grimaced more, not because of pity rather my absurd attitude toward things. Here is the guy, initiative enough to make the river flow on his own way, while I paddled the boat out from the water.

I missed the guy wearing the SM uniform around the institution. I missed his lame strides, his soft enunciation of words, his hair coated with cheap gel.

I haven’t seen him for a while.

John Mark Canja, I don’t know if I’ll be elated or saddened with your decision.