I GREW UP IN A PLACE SIX KILOMETERS FROM THE FOOT of Mt. Mayon. As in other remote areas, life in our place is very simple one. I spent my childhood climbing trees, playing with spiders that we stored in match boxes and ?fighting? with neighbors using bamboo shoots. We made toys out of things we could find in our immediate environment. I didn?t know Barbie, Elmo or what Lego was. We had no TV or a family computer on which I could play. But I was not bothered at all. I was contented and, with an innocence of a child, I thought that our far-flung barangay was the only place in this planet, until my parents decided to send me to the town for my education.

That was a big deal for me. Most parents in our community could not afford to send their children to school, much less let them study in the city. So I became the girl envied by most.

If only they knew that right on my first day in class I suffered my first humiliation when my teacher mispronounced my name. She called me ?Brutus? and the whole class laughed. When you are 7, without a parent or yaya by your side, and something like that happens you find yourself on the brink of crying but holding back the tears, knowing it would only cause more laughter. So I sat meekly on my chair and hoped my classmates would forget about it.

But some kids are born to be brats and they told me Brutus was the name of a stupid dog in a cartoon show. So I became the ?dog kid,? and they started noticing everything about me: the way I tied my hair (my ribbon was too big), my socks (which were not knee-length) and my English (twisted).

It was the beginning of my long struggle to conform with the demands of a different culture. Of course, I felt jealous that all the praises went to the top students, that the pretty girls and boys always got to participate in the school play, and that some were treated like royalty because they had the most expensive Pollypockets. I wanted to be recognized too. I wanted to be popular (and not just in our barangay). I wanted to be a star like them.

So my operation to become a ?star? began. No one knew my scheme except me and God (for He sees everything). My parents would be horrified to know that their little girl was in this kind of drama.

First, I became a mean girl. If you want to be like them, I said to myself, then act like them. I fought back when anyone tried to bully. Whether it was a word war or fist war, I did not run away. I developed a reputation for being a war freak; whenever I got mad, I was mad at the whole world. My classmates quickly learned not to mess with me.

Then, I studied hard, even learning our lessons and reading in advance. I read and memorized as many words in the dictionary as I could. I even memorized sample sentences, so that when my teacher asked if anyone could use the word in a sentence, I was the first to raise my hand.

I borrowed my mom?s Mills and Boon collection to learn some English expressions that I could use in daily conversation. Unfortunately, they were not as cool as Sweet Valley High and Nancy Drew.

To fix my twisted tongue, I watched Hollywood movies and imitated the way actors talked. Call me trying hard, but it helped me speak better.

Lastly, I raided my cousin?s Candy magazines to improve my looks. I didn?t want to be labeled only as brainy, I also wanted to be called beautiful. I could not do anything about my nose and my height, but I had other assets. So I looked into the mirror, and practiced the kind of smile that can spread sunshine all over the world.

Did I become a star? Yes, in my own right, and and it was because I did what I needed to do to become what I wanted to be. I felt powerful knowing that I could take control of the situations I was in. I may not be the brightest star but my light could compete. It felt good to know that people noticed that you existed, to know that they had forgotten that I came from the boondocks.

As I move into another realm and chase a new dream, I realize that the cycle will repeat itself. I will find myself suddenly at the bottom, struggling and lost. I will meet new people whose star glows way brighter than mine, so bright that I will be afraid to look lest I go blind. But I won?t give up. The little grade schooler has done it before, and I don?t see any reason why I cannot do it now.

I dream of being like Princess Diana and Mother Teresa, touching hearts and making a difference in the lives of others. I dream of being an accomplice in realizing the United Nations Millennium Development Goals. I dream of being a member of Congress and challenging the reign of the Lagmans in our province. Big dreams, but they will not remain dreams if I start believing and start taking baby steps to reach them.

I have begun to make it happen by being an active participant in the elections, by making sure that I chose my candidate not because my heart went out to those angelic voices and faces but because the next president should make real my dream of an honest and clean government.

There is so much hope for our country. When I look back on my childhood, I still cannot believe that I would be sitting in a class full of valedictorians from all over the country, that I would be competing in the UAAP, that I would sleep in the house of a famous fashion designer and not recognize him until I saw his house featured in a lifestyle magazine, and that now it?s not impossible to reserve a seat in a restaurant with my table next to a senator?s.

Dreams do come true. Let us keep working on becoming stars.

Ma. Karen B. Brutas, 24, is an accounts specialist at Bahay Financial Services Inc.