My yesterday.

Event Log:
So it was my friend Christene's debut last night. Woke up early to go to Scarborough for setup. Setup was hard work. It's easy to laugh at Tin, when she sits in the middle of the floor on a plastic garbage bag, pretending to be Jasmine from Disney's Aladdin, singing A Whole New World.

After mass. Night time comes. Lotta fun, lotta laughs. I'm the only one out of the 18 roses (besides Tin's little brother) who isn't 'collared' (i.e., wearing a collared shirt). Played my personal game of "Spot the CFC/YFCers." Good food. Chilled with Jean.

Tin's performance, Angel of Mine. Didn't have CD we burned of the karaoke version of the song. Didn't even have the real song. Had a printout of the tabs for the song, but didn't bring them up with me. Tin singing solo, me accompanying on guitar, no karaoke track to cover up our mistakes, no tabs for me to follow. Capo wasn't fitted properly on the guitar, tried to fix a "buzzing" string the whole time. All eyes on her. We survived!

18 roses and candles right after. Most of us a little confused; no rehersal. "Why am I holding this candle?" "Don't the guys hold the roses?" "Just do what they do." Each of the 18 candles not really prepared to speak. "It's only 30 seconds!"

Roses dance. "You dare me? I'm scared. But do you still dare me?" Pulled off a classic rose-in-teeth delivery. Tita Marissa Gozun (the MC) purposely making me dance with Tin a little longer than most of the other roses.

Chilled with Jean and Paul B. Didn't really dance. People would tell me to get up and dance. "Can't dance without the wife."

Change of pace. Fire alarm goes off as a result of the prolonged use of the smoke machine. Had some yummy cake. Fire truck arrives. Asked them for a dance: YMCA! Funny.

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Thought Log (in no specific order):
Dancing. I don't really dance. I never had that gift of bodily rhythm. Hey, I'll groove in my chair, I can appreciate a good beat, but up there on the floor for more than a 3-4 songs? Not for me. Watching other people dance -- choreographed or otherwise -- is very entertaining. I honour you people out there who can do that. I honour those who can get up and feel the vibe through the music. It's a gift from God, so why not use it for his glory?

Watching people on the dance floor. "C'mon, get up and dance!" people would say. "Naww.. Can't dance without the wife." And even if she was there? Would I get up and dance the night away with her? Probably not. I'll dance if I'm with her, but not much, really. So you can't expect me to dance without her, let alone dance the whole night.

Dancing? Not for me. Jackie, on the other hand... she loves to dance. Then I got to thinking. "Why not dance with her the whole night, like she can/does/loves to do? Who cares if you don't dance? Have you even tried? She loves to dance, so why not at least try experience the things she loves, the way she experiences them?"

"Even if you still don't have fun, at least you can say that you tried. More than once. She'd appreciate it that much. Just like you appreciate her for reading, for praying, for trying."

And so I've decided. Next time, I'll dance the night away with you. I'll try to keep up with you.

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Observing how people danced was one thing. I spent some time observing myself outside of my element, like a dance floor, like talking to people I've never met when it's not in a classroom or at a YFC event, making conversation. Through observing my family, I've learned that small talk isn't a Padua trait (maybe not even a Camposano trait). I may come across as a loudmouth sometimes, but if I don't really know you... I can only hope that you are good with starting small talk. Then, I'll talk. Heck, I'll even ask you a question or two.

With most of my friendships (not all) that have come and gone over the years -- the ones that really mattered -- it starts the same: you talk, I listen. You keep talking, I keep listening. You ask for advice, I say keep talking. You look for answers to your problems / ish / etc., I give you questions so you can find them on your own. You ask me for a definite solution, I give you more questions so we can work something out. I might offer one that'll work, but you probably won't like it. You try it your way. You come back to talk; whether your way works or not -- temporarily or otherwise -- I keep on listening.

By this time, I know more about you than the words you say. Because I know you, I can trust you just about anything.
Most of the time. And once I know you, once I trust you, once I'm comfortable... I can be quite the talker. I'm comfortable when I blog -- see how much I say here?

When it comes to new ideas, I'm a listener and an observer.
Make me comfortable, give me an idea, and I'm a speaker and a participant.

That's definitely a Padua thing.

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I also spend some time observing others. Yesterday was no exception. What if I was in their shoes?

I took some time to observe Tin's parents. Things like how they would react to certain things throughout the day. I remember looking to her parents when any remark about Tin and Francis being "together." I remember when Francis (Tin's escort) offered the last rose, and he kissed Tin on the cheek -- and Tin's parents smiling and laughing about it, in a good way. It was a sign that they trusted her (and Francis to some extent, I suppose).

Not only in how they reacted, but in their words, too. And it wasn't just what they said; I also felt the sincerity in those words. Tin isn't "just another one of their children," or "another one of their teenage kids they have to deal with," but a cherished part of the family -- with her own unique characteristics that make the family complete. Any regular visitor to the house can see how the family stays together, and feels so a home there. Tin has her own unique way of contributing to that atmosphere; her parents noticed that, and aren't afraid to say it.

Part of what the whole debut experience is about the parents recognizing the fact that the debutant is maturing, forgeting ever closer to an age when she can live independant of them. After going through many friendships, feeling needed by them -- for someone to listen to them, for advice, etc. -- and then seeing them happy independent of my help... I'm happy for them. But not after feeling a sense of loss, a sense of... watching them grow up. Eventually, I get over it because I realize that God priveleged me to play a part in their maturing.

I guess what I'm getting at is that I'll probably have a tough time watching my kids grow up, slowly becoming more and more independent -- especially if I have daughters. The only way I'll begin to let go is if my daughter (or daughters) celebrate a debut, to celebrate her maturing, and to recognize her growing independance.

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Happy Birthday, Tin. May God bless you with more birthdays and more experiences to come. It's a whole new world! (haha)