I am writing this blog entry longhand. I think it’s interesting to sway back from Tope (my laptop after sleeping with him for God-knows-how-often) for a while. I remember a Jessica Zafra post claiming that a handwritten piece of a writer is a literal extension of himself, such that you can read his personality from the way he curves or slurs or crosses out words and sentences or inserts that omission mark. I believe though that this has been originaly what I wanted to do: Bowing my head, listening to my thoughts, jotting down with G-Tec, and clearly escaping from everything. ( Read more… )
Today I felt utter rejection. And no amount of banana fruit shake from Mister Kabab can make it possibly better. Long story but the bottom line is that I found out that I am still on the brink of NOT graduating. My thesis adviser affirmed of it. There’s still a chance that I’ll get myself delayed with the horrors of thesis. My mom called a while ago to ask when will I have my gradauation barong sewn. I just madly answered, “I’m in the middle of finals. That barong won’t rush.” And so…
I really want to escape. To be wild. To be free once more. My last semester in college has been a theme park and I hope it will be really my last in the first place. I can’t afford to not graduate. Not now, please, not now. I’m not trying to be an attention magnet here but I really need support. Especially yours.
Oh for once, I actually update my blog! I know I’ve kept yammering on apologies and promises of regular posting but I can’t seem to nail them. Blame my new routine: waking up at nine, going home at seven/eight, sleeping until midnight, waking up until about four/five, napping again and waking up… I feel like an android, and a pathetic one at that. I feel unhealthy. Stab me! ( + )
“Time flies so fast,” our helper would always pronounce randomly. It’s how she usually started a conversation. I could hear her cliché on a daily basis, and I could only politely reply, “Of course. I would then thud in my consciousness and see the following word in neon light: THESIS. The word blinks, zaps and flickers more; it’s like one of those flashbacks in soap operas where the actor involuntarily halts his way and stares at the window like a total idiot. THESIS. Bold, italicized, underlined. I then teleport back to reality and swallow the bitterness of that word. ( Read more… )