Second Soliloquy
A journey into the mindscape...
I Hate Weekends
To be precise, I hate being stuck in the house on weekends where there are requirements to finish... it must be pretty bad, if I really hate it, when I normally don't hate anything, when the only thing I "hate" is hatred.See, when you're given a long weekend (or any weekend, for that matter) and some projects to finish, you're expected to be able to finish them all since you have all that time anyway. Now, when I'm stuck in the house, I somehow turn into this unproductive lazy ass. During the day, when people are up and about, I'm this paranoid bloghopper, who refuses to get to work for the simple reason that my parent(s) and/or brothers could peek over my shoulder while I'm intensely focused on my work. At night, when everyone's asleep, I tend to fall prey to drowsiness as well, and nearly all logical function shuts off completely, leaving just enough neural activity to realize that I'm sleepy and can't think and should call it a day and go to bed. Then I give in and fall asleep and when I wake up people are up and about again and the cycle repeats itself. Not that it's much better when I'm at Pisay with all the distractions, but at least I can somehow manage to get something done. And at least I have friends there to look to for support.
College Still Seems Scary
Cramming. Right now. Because there are requirements due next week. Book report final deadline on monday. STR final paper needed monday. Other requirements due next week. Plus next week is the perio. Cramming.Why am I not nocturnal? Why do I still get sleepy at nighttime? Why do I have to start working when nobody's there to watch? Why do I even wait to get started working? Why?
It is said that cramming is not advisable in college. Try that and you proabably end up flunking, so they say. If that's true, then I should start work my head off early whe I get to college. But what if I revert back to my old habit of stalling?
The idea of college still scares me...
Approaching the End
Today is the last day of classes... because Friday's been officially cancelled. I still have to finish our STR project's final paper, credited in both STR and English (my own choice on the Enlish one). No, wait... I already did my part and gave it to my partner already, so now I'm just waiting for him to finish... Then I have to finish constructing a slightly complicated circuit for AdEl, and type up a book report for Filipino (which was already due, by the way).So aside from that, all that's left is the periodical exams next week, then clearance. That once-a-year time when you run around, asking people to sign your clearance form, signifying that you've completed their requirements for you to move ahead to the next year level, or in our case, graduate (good luck if you have missing requirements). Or, you can choose to just relax a little, since you have about a few weeks anyway.
The thought of leaving Pisay can be depressing... it makes me think I'm a person who would rather not have the world change too much. I think I'm one of the late adopters. Nothing much I can do about it, though, since time drags along continuously, like it or not...
Wishing for Sadness
I just realized what my insane reason was for imagining every ill-fated event happening to me, for wishing some of those things actually happen, for actually being okay (dare I say grateful?) with those things actually happening? Everything from failing grades, to housefires, to friends drifting apart, to ceilings collapsing, to feeling abandoned, to being hospitalized... and the list goes on.It's because of everytime I see someone in despair. Because I don't know what to do. Because all I can do is sit beside that person, afraid that doing or saying the wrong thing might make the situation worse. It's because sometimes I want to experience things from the grieving person's viewpoint. Because maybe, just maybe, I might be able to find out that way what kind of response would help. Because I want to know if just being there is enough for the moment...
When Your Parents Are Not Your Friends
It is a time when (for me, at least) this house is not my home. Well, not really anyway. It has been reduced to little more than a hotel/diner/internet cafe...I don't trust my parents with much, either. I'm afraid to ask them for help on reports and stuff, because my mom sometimes gives pretty useless contributions and my dad is more likely to take over than just help. I can't hold my ground and make a point with them, because my mom interrupts too often and my dad is too intimidating for me to state my point at all. But the really terrible part is not being able to introduce to them the part of myself I keep inside. Whether they know or not is barely half the issue. The real issue is not being able to trust them enough to tell them how I think, how I feel.
Which is sad, considering they're one of the few people who stick around for the rest of your life...
Career Choices and Phantoms
Okay, today, I went to Palma Hall Annex to check who passed the UPCAT. Fortunately, I got into Computer Science in Diliman. All of a sudden, though, it doesn't seem like it has a lot of significance anymore. Or maybe I just don't feel excited about going into college.And I found out that my best friend in Grade 6 got in as well (his was Behavioral Science, Diliman). Me and my indecisive career path shifts... in elementary, I was thinking of Biochemistry. When I got into high school, I drifted to CS. Now, I think I want to shift into Psychology, or Behavioral Science, or something else like that. I wonder it I could do that without inciting a breach of the PSHS contract? Or get away with not following the darn contract altogether? Ehh... I did not realize the implications of the contract when I signed it right before first year. I must warn my future kids (if I ever have any).
We (I and 5 other people) watched Phantom of the Opera today... and it was darn good. I like musicals. I also like the way the story flows. The poor guy... I wanted to cry that time, but it seems my tear glands are congested or something... no, that wasn't serious. I don't have a doctor's opinion on that. And no, I'm not going to spoil your (possible) future enjoyment of the thing by typing off the details.
All Endings Are Beginnings...
"All endings are beginnings. We just don't know it at the time." -Mitch AlbomToday is the last day of CAT. Not just for the year, but for the entire forseeable future of PSHS, Main Campus. So we're the last batch to have CAT, ever. Thus begins the reign of community service/ComServ (did I get that right?). I'm going to miss the rifle exercises.
Tomorrow, 6 people, I included, are going to UP to see the results of the UPCAT. This year, we graduate, spread our wings, and leave Pisay. Our stay here is soon coming to a close, but it also means the beginning of a new life in college. To be honest, the idea terrifies me, but still I'm just curious enough to want to let things run their course. Hopefully, when the time comes that I get to college, I'll say "It wasn't as bad as I thought...".
Exasperated
3 major projects... one still needs a survey and a final paper... still only halfway through the book for another... just the mere design completed for the last... all due this week... I cannot forfeit the first, for my grade is already way down there... neither may I for the second, with the previous grade balancing itself on a borderline... and as for the last... my only subject with continuous 1's for a grade, a miniscule inspiration, a reminder that I am not the failure I usually see myself as... I cannot bear to live to see this record tarnished... should one of these fail, my life is forfeit... I would be left walking, breathing, living, but dead... continuing my existence, but with my future, my hopes, my dreams, gone...If, somehow, I give it all I've got, put the nose to the grindstone, work my butt off from the dawn all the way down to dusk, I might succeed, perhaps not as well as I would like, but still succeeding, escaping the fatal consequences of failure. But although I find this a perfectly valid statement, deep within me I find it hard to believe. Every minute that I spend reflecting on this only makes the tension worse. I soon find myself drowning in a sea of emotions gone out of control, despite many attempts to stabilize my condition. I fly out of control, unable to sit still, unable to focus.
But if there is one thing this experience has taught me, it is the reason why we have friends. For my rescue came in the form of one who can easily sense when I am caught in a storm, one who sees with a clear mind, who with gentle words points the way. True, there is a great mountain to climb, but it no longer seems like the intimidating journey it once seemed to be. If, perhaps, I push myself hard enough, I might make it in time...
Blatant Disregard of Tradition
Today, I bought a white rose from the COOP (pronounced co-op), a white rose which, unfortunately, is destined to wilt and die without a recipient. My plan was not to give it to anyone, insist that I bought it for myself, and see what people's reactions would be. Most people who eventually asked who I was supposed to give the rose to (and to whom I gave the appropriate response, as previously stated) couldn't make sense of the situation. Some just went along with my decision just fine. In the end, my conclusion is this: if you buy flowers on Valentine's day (or proabably any day), it's assumed that you're going to give it away. Well, it is Valentine's day, would you expect any less?After a long, hard day, I decided to gave the white rose a name. Actaully, a friend gave me the idea, naming it Cosette. I call her Eponine. Eponine is a character in Les Miserables (Cosette too, actually), which we're taking up in English this quarter. Although she's in love with her friend Marius, it's Cosette who ends up being the lucky girl. Marius and Cosette eventually get married, and Eponine... well, I think I'll just let you read the book or watch the play somewhere. Anyway, that's the way my lovelife (to the public, proabably unknown or unnoticed, and yes, I have one people) is turning out. That's why I call the rose Eponine. I'll leave it up to you to figure out who's who and what and why and where. That's a secret... hopefully only those who know will be able to figure it out.
I Should Listen To My Intuition More
Currently experiencing the aftermath of the JS Prom. Yup, aftermath. The prom wasn't a pleasant experience. About a month before, I had this strange feeling that something unpleasant was going to happen if I went to the prom, so I wasn't sure if I was going to go. But someone managed to persuade me to go, so I went.It would have been fine, but seeing someone there sent my emotions down the drain for half the night. That's as far as I'm going, I refuse to elaborate. The point is, my intuition was right, this time anyway.
(note: this post is really, really short because I only got to type it up later, February 14 to be exact. I'm not in the mood to make a long post about this one. My apologies for the inconvenience)
