Journal – Page 2 – reverie: hers, erstwhile

Time Check: 2:28 AM

These have been, by far, two of the worst nights of my life.

I am currently taking mid year classes under General Chemistry II (Chem 17 and Chem 17.1) to at least compensate for my delay. I shifted into BS Biology from BA Communication Arts so there is really much I have to catch up on, considering I have lived through GE* courses the first year and a half of college. Taking two months from my vacation, this decision did not really give me a hard time. I really had to do it. I enlisted and enrolled myself then, without any idea that it might be hard for me.

The dormitory I stay in transferred me to my old room and building, where some unwanted memories took place. In addition, the room is smaller and it looks awful (my latter room is bright, clean, spacious, cozy). Dormers are fighting over seats in the lobby for internet connection. But the worst of all is, my roommate, whom I have completely no idea of, does not sleep in at night and comes in the morning when I’m taking naps to boost energy for my four hour laboratory class! She coughs loudly so bad, goes in and out of our comfort room (which makes stupid noises), and leaves her food (without any cover) on her desk. I’d prefer to sleep knowing there’s a person on the bed across mine. I miss Krizia, the only roommate I ever had in Los Baños*. We both know each other enough to know how to adjust.

When I’m at class with my friends, I don’t get sad at all. Unless there’s a quiz which I studied for and yet still get a low score. At night, when I come home, the loneliness and the emptiness and every other disgusting feeling there is come creeping in and embrace every ounce of my being. I try to focus on my academics but it’s hard when I’m sad.

I have no other way to say what I’m feeling but sad. I miss my family back home. I miss my friends back home. I miss the liveliness of this place. I miss the regular semester when I could breathe from time to time. As of now, there is always something to submit the day after, a quiz the day after, for four whole months of chemistry are packed into two. I miss regular school days when I could watch American and Asian TV series on end and still attend my 8 AM class and sleep after that, as permitted by my schedule. I miss not having to think about what I could possibly do alone. I miss not having to think about the silence and how rudely loud it is. It’s deafening. I have been out of the house, living everywhere for quite some time now, that I have forgotten how to live by myself.

I could cry. Release all this. But I can’t. There is no explaining that. Instead, I seek refuge in the soothing words of my mother as I always see to it to talk to her before she goes to bed.

I wish I could find a way to make this feeling stop.

I wish I could find a way to stop being so disappointed with myself with my low performance at school. I wish I could stop comparing myself to others and just do me at my own pace. But it’s hard getting my mind straight when there is no other voice to hear but the cruelty of mine.

Good night.

*GE: General Education

*Los Baños: An urban municipality in Laguna, CALABARZON, Philippines

I am 18. I am sorry.

I still have not figured it out.

You can say I am a product of the new era. A spirit molded by the worries of this generation which to some may refer to as whining and tremendous complaining. People place labels across my forehead, as if claiming they can fill my journey of self- fulfillment, only putting me in restriction from what they believe I am merely made of. Most humans deem their possession of such audacity to take my very humanity away from my becoming like they know better.

I do not get disgusted at all by blood oozing off women’s genitals. It’s natural; menstruation comes ticking off my mouth naturally- simply because there is nothing wrong about it. I support lovely mothers feeding their infants through their breasts which God made so beautifully to connect the product from the origin. It is a direct embodiment of life and the primary tangles of human dependence. I have absolutely no problem when people work differently as I do. Moreover, I do not hate people when they prefer a different set of clothes, or when they choose to watch movies far from what interests me.

I do converse, however, when it involves my country, the Philippines. I do communicate what I regard as just when the poor is stripped off form their rights. I never let indifference slip. I do not let my country fall under the hands of the oppressor, may it be foreign or within; in this era where the Filipino is no longer under the jurisdiction of those who claimed their conquest on the Pearl of the Orient, why would I let my country suffer more when it has suffered enough? I fight. I fight for the low- wage earners. I fight for those who have yet seen the comforts of a home. I fight for life, but I also fight for the life of the life giver. I believe in contraception, in education, in pills, in dignity, in discipline. When I say I fight for life, I mean I fight for every race Earth cradles because every person from every ethnicity breathe; they are humans: we are made of the same skin, of the same cells- we take in the same element. Moreover, I fight for life and its sanctity; the animals and the planet are of essence to protect. I fight for involvement. I fight for the accused who have gone naked from their very right to receive a spot in court. I fight for the people; I fight to serve the people; I am still fighting because the people who should be serving their countrymen are serving themselves. Skilled, extraordinary, proficient, men and women deserve a seat in office; instead, sexist, fascist, and incompetent people hold these positions. I fight for girls who are boys, for boys who are girls, and for those who refuse to encase their expression in a universe that have made something so wide into something so minimal. I fight for an emancipation that the former recognize as odd and unnecessary.

Yes, you’re probably correct. I have not met grounds for becoming the successful one the past era makes me persevere to meet; I still have not found the secret behind being Mark Zuckerberg and earning on my own at age 18. I work hard, nevertheless, to be less of a burden for my parents. But I have explored alone, read alone, chose to be alone, so I could see the world from a clearer lens, making a spot for myself to traverse this universe, my universe, without disregarding the credibility of the identity of the living and the place I call home. I chose to travel with my own two feet, so I could immerse myself in the simplicity of time and complexity of human race. I have known struggle but I have not known enough of it. I have tasted ease and comfort but others have not. That is why I strive to walk further, making use of all that I have so I can live a life for others, so that they, too, may get a hold of the life they deserve. I carry this responsibility with pride and honor.

I apologize, for not meeting the standards of those who came before me. But I will not apologize for how ravishingly I came to be. I will not apologize for being so different that it disgusts them, for being so unusual that they start calling me as rude and sensitive and a waste of time and money and space.

I still haven’t figured it out- the path that leads to becoming a machine that those who assert they have power can simply manipulate.

I probably never will.

Time Check: 6:36 AM

I haven’t slept. This is not caffeine- induced.

I am in so much anxiety! The sole purpose of this blog post is to vent. Really. I don’t know what I’m doing. My head is throbbing, my heart is pounding.

Can I tell you guys a secret?

When I launched Z+ Manila, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I was all caught up in the idea of finally delving into something new. My first collection was a trial. To see how far I can go. Seeing how far it went (~~lol~~), I knew I had to step up my game.

I was planning to launch this second collection last January, but school happened and I acquired a different set of priorities then. This is long overdue when in fact, this collection comprises most of me. Taking that into consideration, I should have worked in such little time with very high interest and generated products in an instant. But I knew I had to plan it out well and thoroughly. I’ve been studying different fashion trends and immersing myself with a whole new street wear culture and old school aesthetic, which I am dearly engrossed in as of now, and I teach myself every day. I had to study the taste of millennials I want to associate myself with. In addition, I had to write myself a letter every now and then to remind myself to get up and create, knowing I’m a complete dumb ass in this field, knowing immensely how I am not even close to a rookie. I am going in blind.

Tonight, I mean- today, I felt like giving this up completely. My being insecure and incompetent seem to outweigh my being adventurous and brave. I used to give everything a try, no matter how dangerous, no matter how embarrassing it would probably be. Now, I feel like I’m a wholly different person. This overwhelming rage of emotions is taking over me; moreover, I’m not sure if it’s for the best or worst. I lost all my savings from spontaneous meet ups with friends. I am seldom home (as I study in a different province) so I see to it that I spend time with my family and my buddies from high school. So currently, I am facing issues with my capital. Of course, I have savings from what I have earned in the first collection, but I do not feel like using them up. My ideas seem completely idiotic. What’s worse is, I’m running out of concepts! My rituals don’t seem to work; all my scribbles and mantras and self- encouragement aren’t getting into my system!

~~Damn, I feel like collapsing. I am about to explode.~~

One thing is for sure nevertheless, Z+ is very close to my heart. I have so much more to give; I am willing to sacrifice anything for it. I am willing to learn. And teach myself in this painful process. This second collection is more than another trial. This is a statement, a belief, a piece of Rea that I get to share with people. I always believed I am for deviation; I am always siding with justice, trying to understand the odd and confusing spectrum between right and wrong. God, I am trying so hard. This huge fragment of my being is what I want my products to embody. I wish this is a success. I pray this is a success. I have taken so little steps, I think, I wasted so much time, so being courageous enough to open this to the public will sum up those little steps into a gigantic one. Hopefully, with grace and blessing from up above, this collection will meet its purpose.

A Shiftee Confesses

Days and days without end. Words were my capital: sewing them together brought me closer to the finish line, which meant the clock has gravitated back to the start. It has always been the same thing, but I enjoyed it. Speeches, here and there. We had to produce. We had to create. I had to use my imagination to the extent, push it even further, make it bleed, and still, despite all the pouring out and provocative illusions, I had to learn more. Get to experience more. Understand more. The human psyche is one to disappoint. We were made to swallow our past beliefs and recreate them into a new purpose, because every revelation is a revelation! Every spoken statement our professor makes is a surprise. A shock. An addition to our big, big bubble that has yet fit the criteria of enough. However, more than writing, more than speaking, we were made to read. And that, I think, is where we gather our pride. Where our conscience lie. We read. And read. And read more. Then we ask questions.

I took up BA Communication Arts in the University of the Philippines Los Baños. This wasn’t my first choice. But I had no choice, after all; when I entered my dream university, I was placed under “degree program with available slot.” It didn’t matter to me, as long as I got into the state university. But I must admit: it did hurt a little- not getting into the degree program I wanted. That is why, after a year, I shifted to BS Biology. It was a long process, but I managed. I wanted to pursue medicine.

From the arts to the sciences.

It’s not that different. But it is different.

Days and days without end. Data and inferences were my capital: sewing them together brought me closer to the finish line, which meant the clock has gravitated back to the start. It has always been the same thing, but I enjoyed it. Experiments, here and there. We had to produce. We had to create. I had to use my imagination to the extent, push it even further, make it bleed, and still, despite all the pouring out and provocative observations, I had to learn more. Get to experience more. Understand more. The human reasoning is one to disappoint. We were made to swallow our prejudices and recreate them into a new purpose, because every revelation is a revelation! Every spoken statement our professor makes is a surprise. A shock. An addition to our big, big bubble that has yet fit the criteria of enough. However, more than the mastery of the scientific method, we were made to read. And that, I think, is where we gather our pride. Where our conscience lie. We read. And read. And read more. Then we ask questions.

See, it’s not at all different.

But it is.

I have to deal with microbes as tiny as an alternate universe would have had me think. I have to stain them, count fifteen seconds to thirty, so the dye would stick. I have to kill them. After observing using the hanging drop technique, I have to let them go. Perform sterilization. Hold the wire loop with a calibration of less than a centimeter. I have to disinfect. Before and after doing required procedures.

I have to wear lab gowns now. Find where the copper went. Mix sodium carbonate with some other salt to know which element is soluble. Which is insoluble. I have to wear jeans, every time I perform experiments. Never mind the heat. Never mind the humidity. I had to stay in the laboratory three hours a day. Sometimes six. And it wouldn’t matter, I wouldn’t notice time. Because I enjoyed it.

I remember being inside my dormitory, drinking my tea, looking at the time. I remember feeling incomplete as I write my essay due in about four hours. I remember begging for that something to fill in the empty. I remember asking what if.

And now, I have it. I’ve got the best of both worlds, although they did feel the worst, at some point. I regret none of my choices.

I am on to my track. The road that leads to that MD acquisition. I carry with me, nevertheless, the fruits and downhills of my battles with the arts. It will always be engrossed dearly within me. I have grown fonder of the things I have lost, but now I come to realize, I have not lost it at all.

What I Believe In

I like to believe that I’m off to med school in two years’ time. If not for my irrationality, I would have not landed in a course I won’t be pursuing in the first place.

I like to believe in the hideous idea that the four kings and queens of old will make it back to Narnia and save the god forsaken land. I like to believe that fiction, if I think of it hard enough, dream about it almost every night, then it would actually come true.

I like to believe in truth.

Yesterday, when I was looking at all the vintage finds I have snuggled at every garage sale in the city, I thought about how much shit I took out when you left.

You gave me so much that I had to pull out everything in my room that day.

I was on the floor, crying, my mom knocking on the door.

I was on the floor, grasping for air, or not anymore, I cannot possibly remember- surprisingly- like how I could no longer remember you; I could only remember you in multiple proportions. Maybe I’ve had too much chemistry to start thinking about Dalton and the Laws of Matter. I wish I would have; that way, I wouldn’t think too much about you.

I remember you though, “hey, if ever we broke up, and you throw away all the things I gave you, I’m going to get real mad.” What a foolish thing for me to believe that you would. You see, I was still scared. I was still scared of you getting mad at me. I wish you would; instead of not caring at all. That hurt me. With the same gravity of pain. With the same weight as heavy as the whole world could ever make me carry.

I look at all my vinyls piled up on the corner of my room, thinking that if our story were placed on one of those tracks, the needle on my turntable would have probably cracked because it’s always on repeat. I think about my room, how many ancient things I love I placed in here. I’ve always been in love with the past, even wishing that the amount of stale would replace the past I had with you. This was history, and I loved it, except when I still had you.

When I still had you, I was in love with the future. I prayed to God three times a day. One in the morning, when I hear you whisper “wake up, you’re going to be late.” One at noon, hoping God hears me more than all the people praying that instant, only for you to pass your anatomy exam. And finally, one at night, when after a long, tiring fight, you still have your head rested upon my chest. So innocent; so sure about what our tomorrow will be.

Now, I pray to God every single moment of every day, “please, Lord, let me think about something else.”

Yesterday, when I was looking at all the things I have summoned into my room to cover up the scent of your perfume, I thought about not thinking about you. That finally, it’s been a while since I last thought about you. That at last, I was too busy to think about how I missed you, and how you don’t. How happy you are in the arms of your new home. But thinking about not thinking about you makes me cringe even more, because I just did. I just thought about you. Again.

I like to believe in the now. I like to believe in something real. That I am my own person, that I am not living a lie. But it can never be more difficult than now. I would have given up anything for you to be nothing but an eye contact; a chapter skipped; a plan A that could never be. I would have given up anything, because in the now that I am in, you are taking so much of my time. You are taking so much of my space, that even as I took all of you out of me, you still left me with every day.

I still have every day with you.

I like to believe I have let you go. Problem is, every day.

This is a piece that is very close to me. I wrote this leaving very few edits. This is as raw as can be. Hopefully, this will be the last of its kind.

Good luck to all of us.

Look Who’s Back!

Hi.

Again.

After months of long pause.

It’s November. You don’t know how many times I opened this blog the past months after June (my latest post) hoping I could share whatever lies in my system. But alas, is it hard!

I can’t go welcoming myself every time I come back three or four months later, can I? Seriously, I should be more committed to this blog if I want to share bits of my understanding to all of you. I’m sorry. I’m trying very hard. I have reasons, very personal ones; it’s not easy to figure out, nor is it easy to tolerate and recognize.

I would also like to say that I’m willing to post on a weekly basis- I’m just not sure what day of the week. If it’s unclear to you guys, I mostly post my writings, travels, events, and I also talk about my lifestyle here. I shall also squeeze in a few of my opinions here. I think it’s my responsibility to speak, as a member of the youth, of my country, of human race.

In addition, I’m not being a social media superstar here, nor am I stating that I have the greatest feed and the wittiest tweets but you can go check them out nevertheless (I don’t even care about how they look most of the time):

Twitter: @rfzss

Instagram:

personal – rfzss

poetry – midnightvows

Let’s have a quick talk; that’s kind of the point of this post, isn’t it?

In here, I would be my purest, unfiltered self. I do not want to preempt anything, however. Know me through my upcoming posts. Also, feel free to comment on my blog posts for constructive criticism and for other concerns. I will see to it that I reply if necessary. Not that I’m expecting that much comments and readers: *cue nervous laugh.* I really do hope, nevertheless, that I could gain friends here and acquire new learning experiences. After all, I created and devoted my time for this as a form of establishing a journey to self- betterment.

Disclaimer! The photos are not mine unless stated (photos are probably mine if the blog post is categorized under travels); I took them at the website, weheartit.com.

Until our next chat.

Time Check 12:33 AM

It’s been a while!

I have lots to tell you.

Halfway through the year and I am not feeling my best. I had so much plans for myself this year. What I remember most is telling myself, “be more.” Now, I feel ugly. I feel utterly loathsome and beastly. I could not find my way to quietude amidst the unruly stampede of thoughts willed by my conscience and fear. I could not grasp my unbecoming and that is the least I could do with this internal emulation. Soon, if I let it, it will be more and more dreadful. I will be more and more intolerable; it will result to a lot of pushing away and deactivation. Everything will detach. I will relapse into partition.

No, this is not about academics. I am no longer that woman who bases everything on numbers. Or is this just a mere cover- up for what I have truly metamorphosed? This is not about my personal life. This is not about my country nor is it about society.

It is about me, and me alone.

Sure, there are catalysts- but to whatever extent I pushed myself into relies solely on the fact that I settled for release. I freed myself upon dominion.

I could not precisely describe the feeling of losing control over my own self. But if I must: it is as though travelling an empty road that goes on forever, without even stepping your feet on the ground. You feel weightless. You hurt no one. No one hurts you. You only get to hurt yourself.

I have tried so many times; I prayed so many times. And out of all these times, nothing lasted. Not even when I prayed, “Lord, help me.” I do not even know what to fix. I just know I need fixing and I need it at the soonest possible time. The consistency of my feelings were increasingly fading. And for months it felt like I surrendered to no one and nothing but the void.

I come home to my parents every weekend, visit my girlfriend every weekend, hang out with friends at times, do a lot of academics day and night. My grades are fine. However, nothing really satisfied the seeping emptiness.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my family, my friends, my girlfriend. They are not the driving force as to why I am slowly becoming a slave to nothingness.

As a matter of fact, I can no longer will myself to write.

It’s much better to write broken than to not write at all, I have figured. For at least, when I am angry and sad, I know I am breathing. I can feel my heartbeat; whereas when I am emotionless, I can only feel the air touch my face and see the people I love crumble as I turn into something I must not.

Into contemplation, I realize that it is my utmost commitment to life that also brings me into grave abandonment. I pressured myself into all these becoming that I soon lost my grip on to what is right. I lost my grip on the dream. I cannot accept who I am that I scrutinized myself into becoming someone I am not. I think so little of myself! I am not my mistakes. This moment right now is to be remembered always; someday, the new, fulfilled and complete Rea will thank this exact moment. There is nothing to be ashamed of, I know now. I am not to be ashamed of having to transform ever so often. I am not going to be ashamed anymore that I am not as smart as I ought to be. I am not going to be ashamed anymore of having lower grades than my brilliant block mates. Instead, I am going to raise my head up and I am going to start being thankful. Rather than moping around the corner wishing I had the same writing skills than him, I would approach him and commend him for a great poem. I am no longer going to dwell on what I lack; I am going to delve into filling the lack thereof. I am not going to let it consume me. I am going to be kind. That way, I will be strong. I will know how to fight the silent fight. I am no longer going to repeat people’s criticism about me in my head every second and question my being; instead, I will gulp it all up and see what I can do. It’s okay to return to wishing I was someone else, because I know for sure it is normal. But I won’t feed it my courage and resilience of being better. No. Scratch that. Of being the ideal Rea.

But really, what is there to change about me? I keep saying, I will, I will, I will. But what are these things that I would like to change?

Not helping my family members with chores around the house.
Not being able to balance my time with school works.
Settling for, “bukas na ‘yan!” (“I’ll do it tomorrow!”)
Going for, “bahala na. Okay na ‘yan.” (“Whatever. That will do.”)
Resorting into fear.
Lying. (To God, to parents, to myself)
Feeding my insecurities. (Like getting mad at myself for being dumb sometimes.)
Being ignorant. (About rules, schedule, deadline, simple things.)
Not being practical. (Being too miserly)
Being a spoiled brat.
Not paying respect to my parents.
Being too lazy.
Forgetting proper hygiene. (I often forget applying my medications for my pimples.)
Saying no to friends because I’m lazy.
Complaining so much.
Not being grateful enough.
Always forgetting things.
Being insensitive.

Rea & Friends

Life couldn’t get any better.

Last September 24th, we celebrated a surprise party for one of my best friends, Nicole.

She was officially 18 yet she had decided not to go for those tremendously glamorous debuts. We had fun nevertheless!

It was crazy. I had to leave at Los Baños late because I had a 5:30- 7pm class. My parents fetched me and dropped me off at Eastwood for the party. I wasn’t able to witness her reaction when she knew about the suprise but fortunately, I arrived at the right moment to capture the feeling of finally seeing and hugging each other after weeks of sending text messages online.

I thought the party was done when the hour hand hit twelve; little did I know it has only just begun.

My friends decided we go settle at Raine’s and spend a couple of minutes there. Minutes turned to hours! I was even a little anxious because I knew what my parents would tell me when the sun rises. I was sensing it was nowhere near good. We talked and catched up and laughed and told stories and shared how college was treating us and laughed some more. It was definitely a night to remember. I came home at about two in the morning, without my parents getting mad at me.

I introduce to you my circle of friends!

We all met when we were freshies in high school. I had short hair. I tied my hair often and got a couple of acne remnants on my face. In short, I was close to being unnoticeable because of my oddly and poorly constructed physical appearance. Nicole, on the other hand, was simple and neat. Raine has been a student in the institution for years. She belonged to the group who just laughed and talked out loud. Alysson, lastly, was also a new student like me and Nicole. I did not really notice her on the first few days but on the latter part, I did observe her to be the musically inclined type of person (also Raine but Aly seemed more of the type). Altogether, we clicked in such a way that chemistry cannot explain. We were inseparable. Through finals and practices. Through rave parties to CET reviews. Through Mondays and Fridays. Through thick and thin.

Currently, we are all in different universities taking up completely different courses. One longs to be a CEO of a company in the future. while the other wants to fly planes and see how little the world is from up above. Another one likes to write stories and cure disabilities at the same time. Conversely, I still am unsure of what I want to do for the rest of my life. Two months through college and yet I still find myself in deep search for who I want to become. Anyway, my dilemma is nowhere connected to my post so let’s just proceed with introducing you to my friends!

(From left!) Me, Nicole, Aly, Raine

Raptured

Perhaps it is true; no amount of words could sufficiently supply the feeling of being in complete astonishment, tranquility, and excitement.

From the moment she sent a text message asking me to turn around, even in the moment we parted ways in the morning, to this day, I am trying to make clear: is this what God talked about when He made the universe, placed the planets in their respective orbits, shaped the mountains in such a way that the sun would kiss them every morning and every night, calmed the waters of the earth so as to make its soil worth living- when everything grew entirely as perfect as he said it must be?

I have a certain default to romanticize things; however, I tell you, the 10th of February was an early Valentine adventure.

I was utterly clueless with her schemes. I must say Franzes is an expert at making her plans run the smoothest. She studies in Manila and I in Los Baños. She had to ride the bus and even travel steep roads just to visit me! What have I done to deserve her, really?

I had a 2:30 to 4:00 PM class and before my class even began, she told me she wanted to take a nap. When it ended, I sent her a text about a book sale (I love hoarding books and reading them when I have the time) held at one of the colleges in my campus. She replied right away asking if I’m already at our fair. It took a couple of minutes before she showed up and a couple of text messages, as well. When I told her that we (Sophia, my friend, and I) were about to go to the Freedom park, she sent me a text asking me to turn around. I did, even as I was confused (I am not being pretentious here, I really had no idea). I did not know what or who to look at; nevertheless, I did turn around. Behind the crowd of other people in their own businesses, I found her.

I wish someone out there captured how intensely fast my heart beat raced. In that moment, nobody mattered but her presence and the distance between us both- how it was so little, and how it grew even more minimal as I wrapped my arms around her.

I seldom get to hug her. I seldom get to hold her this close. I seldom get to see her beyond my blurry cellphone screen. This is her. This is me. Together.

This is where it begins.

Still in shock, I asked my friend, Sophia, if she knew- and she did! Franzes asked her concerning our whereabouts. I learned, as well, that Franzes arrived inside the campus at 3:00 PM! She had been roaming around for an hour just waiting for me to finish my last class.

This is the kind of person I want to be with for as long as I’m alive- even after life, if it’s possible. Sure, she has flaws and all that, but her beauty- inside and out- surpasses all imperfections the world made of her. Don’t get me wrong, I knew this before the surprise of hers even happened. She just continues to prove to me how lucky I am to have her.

1. We rode the ultimately fast turning ferris wheel.

2. We played the dart game! I was a first timer lol it was this game where you had to throw darts (of course) at the balloons placed on the wall. Every balloon you pop equals to a point. We totalled more than 25 points! I thought we were playing for fun but she exchanged the points for a cute purse she gave me.

3. We rode another ride (caterpillar, I think). I enjoyed it so much- we were laughing the whole time.

4. She bought me a baby succulent plant and she only knows how much I love them.

5. We ate tons of food. Street food. We love food. Food.

6. We watched performances while sitting on the field. Totes relaxing.

7. She gave me Memories by Lang Leav. I carried it every where like a baby.

My favorite photo!

My baby plantie

Strolling through the Wilderness

Since the start of the semester, I have been experiencing a form of yearning which I am not fully aware what to call- yet. I have looked everywhere- I bought new books, downloaded apps on my phone which would help me update myself on world and local news, consulted friends regarding secret ventures. There is still something missing, to my dismay.

I walk alone a lot. I have my friends on Wednesday and Fridays but we only have three subjects together. Tuesdays and Thursdays are mine and mine alone- four subjects dealing with myself. I have this developing theory that being alone makes me sad. However, I recall, I become more productive when I have no one to spare time with. Here’s the problem with being alone, I guess. You become more sensitive to the things around you. You let your mind speak for you. It seems odd to say. But the more you spend time with yourself, the more you develop a stronger connection with your mind. You become more conscious of what is inside of you. You become conscious of what comes out. And more often than not, our actions do not satisfy our ideal self.

I guess that’s what people forget to do: live inside themselves. They keep dreaming about their careers in different industries; they keep running when they don’t even understand up to what limit they could. They keep living as if the adventure is outside. They are unaware that it starts the moment they have accomplished the quest inside. Although I believe this is still debatable, for self- discovery is a lifetime labyrinth, I still rest my case on the fact that the primary necessity to achieve our concrete life goals is to at least consider living inside and understanding what it is making of you.

I walk alone a lot. And walking alone has taught me to observe- not only on the way trees sway in absolute serenity, but also the way my thoughts buffer inside. I observe how I breathe, how my pacing is synchronized with the way I turn my head- left then right.

This is all for now, I guess.