NSTP

Saturdays for the past month or so have been spent driving all the way to Quezon City just for NSTP. I don't actually know what NSTP stands for. I bet somebody out there has spent an entire Saturday session trying to come up with witty backronyms for it, but that’s a story for another time.

Usually, I'm early. I take equal parts pride and annoyance in being on time. Unlike the other participants, I don't have the luxury of eating lunch comfortably at home. Those precious hours are spent on the road, which means lunch always happens at Manang’s with the commuting few. It’s usually me, Kester, Abejay, and Pao—who, despite living so close to campus, loves the liempo enough to show up early too.

Soon enough, everyone else trickles in wearing the classic white shirt and jeans uniform. To be honest, I kinda like it. Seeing everyone in a common uniform brings back a high school vibe that got lost during freshman year, where everyone constantly tries to flex their most expensive clothes. I personally hate how obvious my 12-day shirt rotation is, so the mandatory NSTP uniform is a very welcome equalizer.

Our assigned site is in Marikina. You’d think reaching it involves traversing Marcos Highway in your head, but nope—we literally just have to take the hidden stairs at the back of Ateneo. Who knew?

Once there, we pick up the kids and hand them over to the NSTP heads. Our main job, for now, is done. The rest of the afternoon is spent killing time: making kwento with Belle and Dom, actively avoiding my "fans" (a platoon of gay guys inexplicably obsessed with my cheeks, which really aren't all that great), and shooting hoops with Coo.

At 2:00 PM, duty calls again. We are assigned the task of food distribution, followed by the incredibly important task of just sitting around for the next four hours.

Yet, even though it sounds incredibly boring on paper... I actually feel a sense of accomplishment by the end of it.

Surprising.