1. Driving me mad
2. I have this sad habit of exhausting myself with fiction and art before I begin writing. More than ten books, half a season of One Tree Hill, and even more blogs are still insufficient in providing inspiration. Resorting to life experiences would break whatever solitary silence I am in right now, so this short story will just have to wait.
3. I think… I just made the perfect cup of coffee this afternoon. It’s a shame to admit that I began to dislike coffee earlier this year. As prodded by med school, I down about two cups of coffee—three, on a bad day. Having to drink coffee for the sole necessity of survival decreases about 90% of its appeal. It became more of a roadblock or a pill that I had to take to prevent my inevitable transformation into a zombie.
Come summer, I decided to taper off it and today seemed like a good day to enjoy a cup without all the baggage in the form of an all-nighter or a particularly heavy day of lectures. It tasted amazing and now, I’m falling in love all over again. (Now, if I could just say that about a boy.)
4. It’s so quiet in here that I can almost hear myself think.
5. What you hear is mid-summer crisis sashaying its way into this haphazardly planned escape. Don’t get me wrong, I love summer. I can do absolutely anything I want, when I want it and how I want it. But, I kind of miss Roxas Hall, my fat textbooks, my classmates, the library, and… learning. That’s the nerd talking and I would abhor myself come June when I’m so swamped with readings, exams, and SGDs so this will be the last time I will complain about it. Somehow.
This is my Holy Week so far. We had a busy first two days, so I chose to spend the next two in quiet reverie (now, I never thought I would ever get to use that phrase ever hahaha). And tomorrow, we’re off to Roxas City.
Now I regret not taking a single photo because today is such a good day. I had lunch out with my parents. Then, I faced the rain and traffic head on so I could meet Roma and Aien. We had pretzels and lemonade (well, hot chocolate for Aien) and we went to Timezone for some photo booth, basketball, Deal or No Deal, and zombies. Too bad, the dancing has to wait.
Roma had to leave for the Light of/for Peace event so Aien and I decided to kill time before Karen’s party at Giligan’s. We walked around the mall, then we walked some more in Smallville and Esplanade.
It was a quiet night (miracles happen everyday!) because most people were in Savannah for the event. We had dinner with everyone around half past six and I realized how much I miss hanging out with my college friends (and high school friends— because that also describes Karen and Em).
Before I had to go home, Doy, Aien, and I had drinks at this Mexican place beside Pirates, from where we could hear their band playing the best songs. It was a rainy, cold night— something rare about summer.
Now I’m home, waiting for everyone to upload whatever selfies and photos that were taken today and thanking God for good friends, good food, good conversation, and good vibes.
Can’t-get-over-this kind of book. I first read it the weekend before an exam and I rushed through it like a girl on a triathlon. Now, I’m reading it as slow as I can, marking the good lines, and taking in their world by heart.
Maybe because, I can relate with Cath: how she likes to be alone in ways that matter the most, how she starts to like this boy, how confused she is with her feelings, how writing empties and fills her at the same time, how she cares about her family in the most magnanimous way possible, how she can easily return to the land of books and words, and how, at the end of the day, she seeks comfort in the simplest things in life.
So many things have happened since summer began and I can only update through photos most of the time. Save for some exceptions. A picture speaks a thousand words— but then, you can’t really take a picture of what’s in your heart, can you?
I am in my early twenties. Blogging haphazardly in a dear-diary format about the deepest darkest corners of my heart is just bordering on juvenile and adolescent. I do it, anyway.
Most people my age would rather channel their angst through (more often than not) grammatically disappointing string of words posted on social media (which is, admittedly, more juvenile and adolescent than blogging about it) or write about it in a vague articles like those submitted and published in Thought Catalog (those who are writers, anyway.)
Maybe, we can’t help it. Everyone else was raised to run as fast as they could while taking everything they can. We are millennials, after all, and it doesn’t take a sociologist to know that our generation can be a tad bit self-centered and indulgent.
Personally, I love being born in the 90s and growing up in early 2000s. A part of me, however, would miss something I never really had the chance to experience for myself: the long handwritten love letters, the way people met before cellphones, classic movie theaters, retro vehicles, research that involved actual books instead of google, black and white television, and many other things.
Don’t get this wrong. I like to chase dreams and adventures and I absolutely adore the thrill of living in this era. But, there times when my soul would long for something simple, quiet, and certain.
There is always a rush of things in my world: my goals in life, the dreams I want to achieve, the places I will go, home and family, friends, books and film, the stillness at 2 am, this increasing dislike for people on Facebook (who are not even my actual friends and unfortunately by this time, might never ever be), all the melodrama and poetry, my faith, the adrenaline rush, and everything else. Inside all of that is a longing.
I’m blaming this generation for being so complicated with its stupid need for instant gratification, instant communication, instant noodles, and instant everything. One would think that instant is easy. But, instant just takes away everything that is important in the special things in life. That is what makes it difficult to process.
This is where I learn to wait. I will wait for simple, quiet, and certain. And maybe this time, I will deserve it.