Wednesday, June 22, 2016
Shorelines and Lifelines.
Staring into the sinking sun, feet cushioned by the warm sand, walking by yourself and yet with seventy-eight other people at the same time. I probably felt it then.
It's hard not to cherish and keep going back to.
There are people you see everyday. And then for three days, you see them more than you usually do, and you learn so much you had not known before.
About the girl who would barge into the bathroom, hopping on one-foot, to save you and your new clothes from the uncontrollable shower; who would race you down the empty corridors at 2:00 am; who would ask to share the shower to save time; who would honestly point things out to you when you couldn't point them out to yourself; who would patiently powder your face while you cringed and flinched and messed it all up; who would listen while you ranted and would offer you her best advice, only after laughing at your predicament for a little while.
And about that guy with the most beautiful voice; who would sing from his heart, and cause it to resonate in yours till dawn; who could write the most breathtaking music; who would make fun of you all the time; who would try so hard to live up to people's expectations of him even when he was in the depths of despair; who just could not swim and would float around in a swim ring; who would listen to you without a shred of weariness; who would tell you exactly what he thought; who would trust you; who would confide in you.
And of course that guy who would make you laugh all the time; who would blurt out that you were the best part of the three days; who would help everyone out; who would whimsically buy a sword while everyone else was buying jewelry or ceramic souvenirs; who would run around everywhere like the happiest little child; and yet sink into the worst melancholia in the midst of festivity; who would always worry about you drowning in the swimming pool; who just had so much learn and figure out; who would always be there for you, loyalty unfaltering.
And the countless people whom you had previously known nothing about, but now can even say you cherish.
Somewhere in between the 4:00 am card games, the walks on the beach, the swimming lessons, the exchange of accessories and life hack ideas, the photo sessions, the common frustration with the authority, the teamwork in shopping for presents, the ten-hour bus rides - something happens.
Something wonderful.
Sunday, May 15, 2016
He Got Stuck at the Laundromat, Washing His Cape. (8)
Also waiting for the trip now. The rainy weather could be a problem, but hey, as long as the trip's taking place, it's cool. It's going to be a good four-days away from here, with good people.
I'm writing this down because I don't write enough anymore, and I hope I write about my trip after it's done. I feel like I should start a countdown till the 25th. :D Pretty excited already!
I'm writing this down because I don't write enough anymore, and I hope I write about my trip after it's done. I feel like I should start a countdown till the 25th. :D Pretty excited already!
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
'Cause You're Alive, Cradled in Love.
Smiles and laughs and waves and hugs. More than you could have begun to expect to. More than you thought you would be capable of.
For all that each of you are, and for all that each of you do -
Thank you.
No matter what comes tomorrow and on the days that follow, I'm counting my blessings tonight.
For all that each of you are, and for all that each of you do -
Thank you.
No matter what comes tomorrow and on the days that follow, I'm counting my blessings tonight.
Monday, March 21, 2016
Shooting Stars
The days feel like one very long day. A very, very long day.
There are things you know like the back of your hand. You can't un-know them in a day.
But then again, how much did you really know to begin with?
A billion stars that were born all at once just fall out of the sky. All at once.
Not one has the time to grant a thing.
There are things you know like the back of your hand. You can't un-know them in a day.
But then again, how much did you really know to begin with?
A billion stars that were born all at once just fall out of the sky. All at once.
Not one has the time to grant a thing.
Saturday, March 19, 2016
Benzene Bizarreness
Yesterday I was wondering if I should still be writing on this blog now that I have somewhere else to write.
Today I know that I can write here too, simultaneously.
Right now I need a vacation. I need this semester to be over soon, so that I don't have to worry about things like organic chemistry. It literally made me cry. Organic fucking chemistry made me cry the other night. I can't begin to explain how sad that is.
I kept procrastinating and putting off studying for last Tuesday's test, and I finally began the night before the exam. Now, I've pulled this shit off before, but this is Organic Chemistry-II we're talking about, and let's face it, my obsessive compulsive teacher has tried his best to design the course in such a way that you can't just get by with last minute preparations.
So, when it was 1:00 am and I saw how much I had left to do, I cried like a loser. Because of organic chemistry. Yes, solely organic chemistry. That's why it's so sad. The last time I had cried about studies was after a disastrous maths exam in seventh grade.
Anyways, thank God I pay attention in this one class. Some of the stuff had stuck in my head, and I just tried solving questions from the book. It wasn't the best exam according to me, but I got through.
It's just that, after shit like this, when I see that I've scored 90% on the test, it helps me get through a day that otherwise would have been pretty shitty. As nerdy as it sounds, momentarily I feel like I have something to push myself for. And that's good. Because right now I really do need a purpose. Even if its organic chemistry.
Yes. THAT'S how loser-like my life is.
Today I know that I can write here too, simultaneously.
Right now I need a vacation. I need this semester to be over soon, so that I don't have to worry about things like organic chemistry. It literally made me cry. Organic fucking chemistry made me cry the other night. I can't begin to explain how sad that is.
I kept procrastinating and putting off studying for last Tuesday's test, and I finally began the night before the exam. Now, I've pulled this shit off before, but this is Organic Chemistry-II we're talking about, and let's face it, my obsessive compulsive teacher has tried his best to design the course in such a way that you can't just get by with last minute preparations.
So, when it was 1:00 am and I saw how much I had left to do, I cried like a loser. Because of organic chemistry. Yes, solely organic chemistry. That's why it's so sad. The last time I had cried about studies was after a disastrous maths exam in seventh grade.
Anyways, thank God I pay attention in this one class. Some of the stuff had stuck in my head, and I just tried solving questions from the book. It wasn't the best exam according to me, but I got through.
It's just that, after shit like this, when I see that I've scored 90% on the test, it helps me get through a day that otherwise would have been pretty shitty. As nerdy as it sounds, momentarily I feel like I have something to push myself for. And that's good. Because right now I really do need a purpose. Even if its organic chemistry.
Yes. THAT'S how loser-like my life is.
Saturday, February 13, 2016
Clair de Lune
Imagine a baby in a basket at your doorstep one fine morning. No notes, no name tags, not even a guide or a single instruction. But you don't call the cops. You bring the basket home.
Imagine clutching a favorite book while running out of a blazing house.
Or that last cupcake, vanilla yet surprisingly good.
Or that little boy in kindergarten who sits there painting, long after everyone else has gone out to play.
Or the last laugh before you doze off.
The lanky preteen boy who looks back over his shoulder a dozen times as he walks home from school.
Or the teenaged girl who needs some help with her choices.
A timid ladybird on your arm you grew so fond of.
The face in the hallway you had never seen. Till you finally did.
Or the knock on the door that you knew would come any second now.
Or that stranger in the park, reading your favorite novel.
7:00 pm.
Little Simba and Timon alternating in dynamic equilibrium.
3:00 am.
Irony and puns and wordplay.
8:00 am.
Such ridiculous graffiti.
The room of requirement. Yeah.
A rescue spaceship.
An astronaut.
Imagine clutching a favorite book while running out of a blazing house.
Or that last cupcake, vanilla yet surprisingly good.
Or that little boy in kindergarten who sits there painting, long after everyone else has gone out to play.
Or the last laugh before you doze off.
The lanky preteen boy who looks back over his shoulder a dozen times as he walks home from school.
Or the teenaged girl who needs some help with her choices.
A timid ladybird on your arm you grew so fond of.
The face in the hallway you had never seen. Till you finally did.
Or the knock on the door that you knew would come any second now.
Or that stranger in the park, reading your favorite novel.
7:00 pm.
Little Simba and Timon alternating in dynamic equilibrium.
3:00 am.
Irony and puns and wordplay.
8:00 am.
Such ridiculous graffiti.
The room of requirement. Yeah.
A rescue spaceship.
An astronaut.
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