Strictly Mine?


Last month, I started a six-part series telling the story of my uneventful college life and how I managed to survive it. I intended to end the series on my graduation day. Now, it has been more than a month since I posted the third part and the fourth is still a shabby first draft.

I can give a handful excuses as to why I could not write it:

  1. reading
  2. getting as much shut-eye as I could to make up for the sleepless nights
  3. watching T.V. because I have not in months
  4. job applications
  5. some more reading

But to be honest, there is just one reason why I cannot proceed to writing it:

Some stories are painful to tell because they are built by memories that we would rather forget.

My junior year in college was the toughest year of my school life that I used to worry so much for my mental health. I got past through it, alive and whole, but thinking about it now opens up a hodgepodge of distasteful emotions that I fought so hard to keep bottled deeply inside all these years. They are just too intimate that I could just not find the right equations to show you how I came to here. It feels like I should not be sharing it because it is strictly mine. But still, a part of me wants to tell it — to unleash the monster that I managed to tame. A part of me wants to say that it is possible to fix your own brokenness, to make yourself whole again — not necessarily the same but whole and new.

Right now, apart from typing this rambling post, I am trying to write it for the nth time — not exactly writing sentences but rather gathering the courage to share a story that I believe is strictly mine. Wish me luck.

Heartbroken bibliophile


I hear them beckoning to me.

I caressed them, lust burning within me. Still I said, I can’t take you with me.

With painful struggle, I finally managed to walk away. I could still hear them pleading.

Heartbreak is being in a bookstore, seeing all the books I cannot have.

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Waiting For the Deadline


Did you see my thinking cap? It must be lying here somewhere. I have been looking for it for weeks now but it seems like it is eluding me.

Last Tuesday morning, I made a list of all the things I expected to accomplish during the long APEC Summit Holiday. Now three days have passed and the list remains the same — no entry is yet crossed.

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Instead, here are the things I did for the past three days:

  1. watched Romeo and Juliet three times (once each day, starting Tuesday);

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  1. recited Juliet’s monologue in the famous balcony scene again and again in the shower (because I can’t sing);

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  1. started reading Anna Karenina (I need to read the book before I watch the film adaptation);

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  1. memorized Pablo Neruda’s The Queen (how I wish I were that queen!);

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  1. played with my hair by putting it up in foam rollers as I watched Britney Spears’ music videos (and I remembered how I fell in love with dancing because of her);

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  1. tried to replicate Britney’s parts in Me Against the Music while in the shower (even the speaking voice gets tired and yes, I take looooong showers);

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  1. and currently, writing this rambling post.

And you know what’s horrible about all this? It is the fact that I feel not even an ounce of guilt for my indolence. It seems that I truly believe that my excuses are valid reasons.

Not in the mood, not in the right condition, not the right weather, not the right pen, and the list goes on. Mere excuses, all lies.

It is not that I am not trying. On Thursday morning I actually managed to get out of bed at 3 A.M. to start studying for two upcoming exams. But after the ceremonial cup of coffee, I found myself scribbling about random things that seem to pop out of my head endlessly and the next thing I know, it was lunch time.

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I know what is wrong — I am not interested in what is in my to-do list. That is why I always find a way to evade it. Maybe if my to-do list includes more of literature and history instead of studying hefty science books, I would have been halfway through it now. Or I maybe even finished by now. Nature versus nurture must really be the recurring theme of my dear life.

Hoping that Saturday morning will see more light as Monday approaches. As always, my thinking cap magically appears when the deadline looms. Deadlines are my lifeline.

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Wish me luck!

 

Writing Through Hell


When I started this blog, I resolved to post at least once a week. But these past two weeks, I failed to keep up with my pre-set deadline.

The reason is obviously school. With only two weeks away from the official end of classes, it seems that everyone – both professors and students – are cramming to make up for the remaining lessons which, in my opinion, could use another month or so. With very much little time left, the quality of learning is again at stake. I am getting sick of this way of life (why can’t I just get used to this and go with the flow?).

Starting tomorrow, hell weeks will be ablaze (a hell week is a week’s schedule cramped with exams, reports, and submissions). When we say “hell”, we really mean HELL. This week is peppered with two lab exams, a case study report, two paper submissions, and a lecture exam. Don’t ask me what’s penned on my planner for the week after this.

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Actually, I should not be scribbling in this blog right now. I should be studying the eighty-page chapter on arthropods for tomorrow’s exam. I have been trying to focus on studying since last night but I can’t. The little voice at the back of my head keeps telling me, “Write! You haven’t written for a while. And you have been neglecting your blog for two weeks already. Put down that book now and I start writing.” Sounds like a little devil? Well, no. That is my angel. So I did as it told me. I put down my book and logged in.

I understand the importance of studying. I will always be one person who would encourage students to study more and spend less on other activities. But to tell you honestly, I hate studying. I love learning but I hate sitting down at the library for hours, reading and noting again and again until I fall asleep. I hate memorizing. I hate boring lecture classes. I appreciate hands-on learning better where I can study at my own pace (that is,  without deadlines and exams). Sometimes, I get tired of the system. I think I seriously need a break but I can’t. I just can’t.

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A friend once told me that if you want decent grades, taking study breaks is a crime. In that case, I am a criminal. I am constantly taking breaks even on times when I really have no time for them. Like today. Like I said, I should not be writing this post. I should be studying the Phylum Arthropoda.

Study breaks have always been  reading and writing for me. These are really the only things I do – studying and reading and writing. I do not know why reading and writing have always had a calming effect on me. It seems that after taking a break, I always find myself more receptive to the information provided by my books and lecture notes.

The magic of reading and writing is still a mystery to me. How do reading and writing make me feel refreshed? But still, I am happy to have these options other than studying all day. I am particularly thankful to God for giving me this gift of being able to express what is within me.

So for the coming weeks, I will try to keep on writing to save me from hell. Wish me luck. 🙂

I apologize for the undeniably distracted, random post. I promise to make a more sensible post after this semester is through. 🙂