Archive for January, 2013

Yesterday, was indeed, a blessed day.

Funny thing, I actually got my Tuesday planned out: study for my Literature exam, research some more for my Art Appreciation self-portrait performance and some other school work. I thought it was going to be a normal, dull, kind of boring Tuesday.

But I had no idea I would be so blessed that day. Blessings just kept on coming as if God is raining down so many blessings at once, and I’m wide awake to catch as many of these as possible.

How is my Tuesday a blessed day?

Let’s start with the night before. I remember while I was in the middle of struggling to focus on my Literature reader, I suddenly got an order for a One Direction t-shirt. The transaction was fast; it was a sealed deal and the shirt was printed and to be picked-up by the customer at my mom’s office by Tuesday morning. Praise God for the blessing!

Normally, I don’t have classes on Tuesdays, but by 9:30 a.m., I was almost done getting ready to leave for school. We have this “heart-to-heart” talk with our thesis professor; it’s basically a consultation. Anyway, I was stuffing the usual stuff to my bag: wallet, phone, phone charger, bottle of water, hygiene kit, hair brush, laptop and laptop charger. When I opened the drawer that contains all the chargers, I glanced upon the charger of my old Samsung Corby Wifi, which I’m selling. For some unknown reason, I just stuffed the Corby’s charger in one of my bag’s hidden pockets—where I keep the Samsung Corby phone. It turns out, me brining my old phone and charger out of the blue has a purpose. But that will be told later.

The university area has changed a bit. This actually led me and my friends into thinking that we have been gone for a while, even though we were only gone for about five days or so because classes got canceled. There was a KFC and Army Navy branch that is almost done setting up. Sounds like we will have new hang out places soon enough.

Most of my classmates, as well as the other section, waited patiently for our professor’s call. He calls two groups at a time. Some sessions take as short as 30 minutes, some lead up to an hour and a half. I was by the lobby with my thesis group, reviewing a bit for our Literature prelim exam, when I got an inquiry from a client for long-term video editing service. There are so many details in what he wants to happen, but, bottom line is, I’m going to have projects until October—and I’ll be making almost P4,000. Praise God for the blessing! The client hasn’t actually confirmed yet, but I am praying and I claim that this will be a sealed deal, in Jesus’ name!

The “heart-to-heart” talk didn’t go as our thesis group expected. It turns out there are still a lot of things to improve. At least we were informed early, rather than not being aware of our mistakes and risking the tendency of having to repeat from scratch next semester. After the consultation, we all went home. Usually, when I ride the jeepney from Pasay to Bicutan, I don’t usually go down the mall area, but rather near the Dona Soledad area. For some unknown reason, I checked my phone while the jeepney crossed the expressway intersection—turning left to the side of SM Bicutan. I received a text message from an interested buyer of my Corby. The client was within the area, and by the looks of his text, it looks like a done deal to me. He wanted to meet up in the mall, so I hopped off the jeepney, went in the mall and headed straight to the Food Court to wait for him. As I sat there and waited for the buyer, I uttered a prayer of thanks. Thank You, LORD for the blessing. So that is why I brought the Corby’s charger with me today—because someone will buy it later that night. If I hadn’t brought it, I would have gone home first and fought my way through rush hour traffic just to get back to the mall. Thank God for His perfect will.

When the buyer arrived, he just checked a few of the Corby’s specs, asked me about its basic operation and within about 30 minutes, we sealed the deal. I was able to sell my old phone for P2000. Now I have money to finish paying for my new phone, and extra money—because of the shirt order and the potential 10-month project—I have money to maybe buy an external hard drive or save up for my photo booth business investment.

Wow. Just… wow.

The LORD is good. Even though, lately, I’ve done a poor job of being His servant—there have been a couple of days wherein I failed to read the Bible and that I felt obligated of going to church—He still is faithful. He answered my prayers and gave me all these blessings. My God is an awesome God!

Tuesday was surely a blessed day. And I know, there will be more blessed days to come.

From 4 p.m. of January 22 to 9 p.m. of January 23, I was awake—wide awake. For the first time in my life, I’ve been awake for 29 hours straight; it was the longest day of my life. And quite frankly, this is probably one of the longest posts I’ll ever write.

The experience was awesome and yet, awful. All day, I’ve been in a quite confusing state of mentality and physicality. It’s as if I’m in the state wherein you can’t determine if you’re having a bad hangover or if you’re still drunk. I was gonna say, “it feels as if you’re high,” but I have no idea how that feels like—and I have no intention of knowing—so I’m going with ‘in-the-middle-of-being-drunk-and-hung-over.’

This all started on the 22nd. I woke up at 4 in the afternoon because of going to bed so late… or early: 3 a.m. I spent the afternoon watching television, eating, browsing the net, then mostly, watching How I Met Your Mother (HIMYM) episodes in my laptop. I usually watch HIMYM up to 2 a.m. tops, but without knowing and being too caught up in finishing season 5, I didn’t notice it was already 5:30 in the morning. Oh crap. If I hadn’t set an alarm, then I wouldn’t be knocked back to my senses. I have to go get ready for school.

And so the epic experience of being awake for hours began.

This was the first time I’m ever going to school without any sleep. Sure, I did some papers and projects that are due in a few hours, but I made sure I get some shut-eye even if it’s just for two hours or even 30 minutes. But to go to school without any sleep? This will be the very first time (and hopefully the last).

Like I said, it felt as if I was in the middle of being drunk and hung over.

Everything seemed to move in a slower pace, and thus, you get to notice every small detail of the things you look at. Like the pink plain silky blouse that woman, who sat across the jeepney, was wearing. The way smoke came out of the mouths of students when I passed through Antonio St., popularly known as “Smoker’s Lane” (it was not a pretty sight). How that Commerce girl, sitting across the shuttle, looks a lot like the girl my ex dated a few weeks after graduation. The way a street vendor picks up a not-so-clean block of ice and puts in in the cooler. The cross necklace a random student was wearing. The purple headphones that girl in the hall had. How ketchup touched the surface of the French fry I was about to eat… etcetera.

That constant headache. The empty feeling you feel that it’s as if you’re dreaming. In the back of your mind, you’re worried that you might black out any second. I almost got hit by a car. I literally kept on bumping into random people. I was not walking straight. I feel my arms and other body parts going numb. You feel like a mindless zombie, your body moving on its own, and you’re there wondering how in the world did you made it to your destination, which in this case, school. You feel that you won’t remember anything you did later on. (I actually wrote a couple of these down that day) Suddenly your body hurts in random places, especially my left shoulder (but how it got that way, is again, another story). Everything seemed amplified that’s why you can’t nap even if you want to. There’s the shaking of your hands, the chills. The fact that you can’t stop talking… or laughing. And the worst part is, like being drunk or hung over, you remember you issues and feel bad for yourself.

Because HIMYM season 5 showed a lot of their daddy issues—like Marshall’s dad dying, Lily’s dad not being there for her, Robin never being good enough for her dad and Barney not knowing his dad then later knowing who he is but he rejected him—it led me to think about my own issues with my dad. It got me thinking: what would I feel if my dad was to die so soon? Would I cry? Would I even feel bad? I always convinced myself that I don’t need him, that if he was to be gone, it wouldn’t make much of a difference because it was mom who was carrying the burden of keeping the family alive all these years. But now that I think about it, maybe I will care if that were to happen. I mean, after all, he’s still my dad. Back then, when everything was a little less complicated, I used to look up to him. He used to be the number one man in my life; he used to be my hero. But now, because of all the disgusting revelations about him, I began to grow hate for him. Sigh. Maybe it’s time to let go of all that hate and resentment. I did notice that, in his own way and little by little, he is trying to make it up to us—especially to mom. I notice that he tries to come home at least once a day and spend some time with us, and when he comes home he is usually very sweet to mom. Yeah, maybe it’s time to let go and finally forgive. If mom—who is the one directly affected in all that he did—was able to forgive him, then why shouldn’t I? It’s not gonna be easy, especially after all these years that I’ve drifted apart from him. But at the very least, I’m going to start trying. I’m going to try to hear him out, to try to open up—even just a little bit, to try to spend some time with him… to try to make him my dad again and try to be a daughter to him. Given his job of being a cop, there’s always the possibility of him leaving so soon. But the LORD is faithful that He always protects dad. So yeah, I think it’s time to let go and start trying.

From that issue, I then started thinking about my weight issue. What in the world am I doing to myself lately? I eat and eat and eat. A lot. I don’t have the motivation to cut some things off of my diet. I don’t have the motivation to work out; I don’t have the motivation to lose weight anymore. I successfully lost 20 pounds last year, but that was because I didn’t want to look like a fat pig in my own 18th birthday party. But now that it’s over—as much as I still want to have a higher self-esteem, to get rid of the trouble of finding clothes, to be physically fit, to be a little less unattractive, to be able to love my self fully—I just don’t have the motivation for it. Then I remembered the words I said to myself a few months ago, “I promise myself I will never be that fat again. And will do anything and everything to make it to a 115.” Yeah. I must have forgotten that. Because of remembering my reasons for starting to get fit, I was slowly getting my motivation back. Sure, it will be difficult, but the result will be worth it in the end. Also, I do not want to graduate with that chubby of a face. Whew. Time to get working.

That’s the most I can remember when it comes to thinking some issues through. This was actually the good thing about these 29 hours: I was able to sort some issues and learned a lot of stuff along the way.

The rest of the day was kind of normal, except for the fact that I was so hyper-active that I’m freaking and weirding some of my classmates out. Some of them were very entertained though. I made it through our Literature subject, with my handwriting so far from legible that even I can’t understand it, with my answer to the journal activity making enough sense. In Spanish class, I was able to make it through a quiz and a lecture. Yeah, I was sane enough to do things properly, just like how I usually am when I am actually under the influence of alcohol. In between this six-hour period was me talking and talking and talking to my close friends, not-so-close friends and my Seatmate (yes, there’s actually one classmate of mine that I call ‘Seatmate’. It’s just because we sat next to each other in every subject and for the first two years of college). There was also the fact that I had trouble breathing and that I was constantly getting minor headaches, heartburns and chest pains. There was also me buying carbonated drinks, junkfood and sweets to keep myself awake as much as possible. Although a huge part of me thinks that it’s a bad idea, I was looking forward to making it to 24 hours.

After school, I went out with my four close friends for some karaoke in a nearby mall. See, that’s where the ‘this-is-probably-not-a-good-idea’ moment started. I was tired in all aspects—physically, emotionally and mentally—but I still pushed through with this. A part of me reasoned out that going out for some karaoke has been planned for a few weeks and I definitely don’t want to be a party-pooper. But the real reason was: I don’t want to be left out, knowing that they could push through with plans without me.

As the clock ticks and the hands go nearer to four o’clock, I was getting more and more excited. This is going to be the first time I’m awake for 24 hours! I know it’s not really something worth getting jumpy about and it’s a bad thing to be celebrated. But, I get really excited and happy about first-time experiences.

When the little hand was on four and the big hand was on 12, in the middle of singing a song, I shouted in joy. While inside a small karaoke booth, I said exuberantly to my friends, “It’s 4 p.m. guys, I’ve been up for 24 hours! Be happy for me!” Yeah. They just gave me odd looks.

Karaoke was fun. Singing your heart out, making fun of the ones who appear in the karaoke video, choosing songs and the fact of spending it with your friends makes it fun. Although, a few offensive remarks about my sexuality and disregarding my suggestion to ride the nearest metro station got my spirits down. I don’t know if it’s because I lack sleep that I became extra sensitive, but either way, why would you make such heartless remarks? Well, I’m sure she didn’t mean it. I mean, how on earth would they know that I’m sensitive if people think that I’m a lesbian mainly because my own dad questioned my sexual orientation for a couple of times? Just to be clear, I may act boyish, like a lot of guy things, I may slouch and be doting to my friends, but never will I ever be anything but a pure blooded female. I will never have second thoughts about my sexual orientation and that’s that. As for disregarding my suggestion for our ride home, it’s okay. Going the other way may have caused me a 10 minute walk, an extra 7 pesos for the jeepney fare and about 30 more minutes of travel time, but nah. There were a fews instances that I was falling asleep during the commute—which is dangerous, ‘cause I don’t know if I can wake up in time to get off of that train and jeep. Well, at least I got home. And to tell you the truth, I really wish I just went home and rested after school.

When I got home, I surfed the net to check on some stuff, then took a bath to relax my nerves, and finally slipped on my jogging pants, shirt and my favorite pair of socks and lied on the bed. I can feel the heaviness of my body—telling me how tired I am, and the heaviness of my eyes—telling me how sleep deprived I am. It was nine o’clock and I’ve been awake for 29 hours. Sure it was fun, having to be all hyper and jumpy and having to realize the things you didn’t have the courage to face—this whole experience actually gave me a higher appreciation of sleep. Being awake for 29 hours was memorable and, despite all the twists and turns, it was quite enjoyable too.

But I am never doing that again.

On the Filipino dubbed version of my favorite anime series of all time, Gakuen Alice, Mikan cracked a joke to Natsume on Episode 18: “In the Darkness, the Two of Us” and asked him, “What do you a ship that never sinks?” Then she paused and said…

“Friendship!”

Yes, it was a corny joke, and it was far from the rough English translation of the anime. But that got me thinking, just like Mikan did on Episode 26: “Friendship is Endless”. What is the real meaning of friendship? What is it really all about?

I thank God for blessing me with such great friends—people who are fun to talk to, people whom you will almost never have a dull moment with, people who care about you. But throughout the years, there were two people who were worth keeping, two people who really meant a lot to me. Throughout the years, we have been solid; the three of us were the best and truest or friends. We know each other’s most personal secrets; we can read each other’s moods and have telepathic conversations… we basically know each other inside out. We’ve been the best of friends for more than five years.

But sadly, like all the good things in this world, our relationship changed. The once solid trio is, well, not that solid anymore. One is slowly distancing herself from us. Stuff like that is just bound to happen, I guess, so that friendships can be tested if they are true or not.

I have to admit, I miss it. I miss everything. The hangouts where we’re actually complete, the phone calls, the text messages, frequent house visits, those times wherein they crash my place and we just watch some movies and eat—a lot, times when we go to the mall and check out a few cute boys that pass by, the moments wherein you just tell each other everything, talking about your crushes, sharing secrets and problems, having those talks where you encourage and help each other out, moments wherein you freely laugh and cry because you know one will not judge the other… I miss the times when we’re a group. The times when we were the inseparable trio that I thought we were.

That is what got me thinking.

Long phone calls, text messages, house crashing, sharing secrets and telling each other everything—is that what true friendship is all about? Is true friendship about calling and texting each other every day? Is true friendship about telling each other everything?

Maybe these things contribute to what makes a great friendship, but I guess it is not the essence. I remember one of my best friends telling me that true friendship isn’t about how often you guys talk, text and update each other, it’s about being there for the other when the time calls for it. And I guess she is right. Sure, the three of us got very busy with our own agendas: school, work, business, the ministry—you name it. But it doesn’t really mean that we’re not friends just because we don’t talk, right? Come to think of it, those two have been there for me all these years, and I to them. Whenever one falls down, we do our best to help one start over. We may not be always there for each other in person, but we’re always willing to support in any way that we can. To encourage, to reprimand, to cheer-up, to comfort… to be there for one another—that is what real friendship is about. The number of times you talk in a week, the number of secrets you know… it’s not what determines friendship. Sure, they may not be always there so you could share small details of your life. But when the troubles come, you know you have someone to run to, someone you can depend on.

So yeah, our trio and/or our friendship may not be perfect, we may be talking a little less than we did before, some things might have changed, but I guess that’s how all relationships are: it’s not exactly smooth sailing. Like a long voyage, there are times when the waves are just calm and there are times when the waves are not. But one thing is for sure, if your friends are real, they will stay. If your friendship is true, it will never die. Friendship is a ship that doesn’t sink after all.

File saved. File sent.

Whew, now I can finally breathe.

When I sent that file—my prelims paper for my Art Appreciation class—I finally felt relieved. I finally have the right to relax; I finally won’t feel any guilt if I start to slack off; I can now update my blog; I can now watch all the videos that I downloaded. Prelims week is finally over. Hoorah.

Still, I feel awful having to stay home on a Sunday just to finish this paper. It’s 12:10 p.m. All the workers should be gathered in a circle by now, uttering a prayer of thanksgiving for the victorious Sunday service. Man, I didn’t know I could miss going to church this much. I should have been there, worshipping my Creator through the bass, but today I got stuck at home trying to finish the paper. Really, who gives instructions two days before the deadline?

It’s lonely—the feeling of having to stay here alone by yourself, while your family and any other person who could possibly hang out with you is in the church. I only felt like this thrice, today counting as the third. You can keep yourself busy or entertained, but there’s this void, this empty feeling inside you—knowing you should be someplace else, but you’re not. It’s not like you have the choice to go, even if you desperately wanted to.

The first time I spent my Sunday at home—or the first one I remembered—was when I had chicken pox. I was itching all over; my skin and face were red from all the rashes. I stayed here by myself, turned on the TV so I won’t entertain the fact that I’m alone, and I laid on the couch till I fell asleep—clinging on to my blanket, trying to fight the fever that has overtaken my body. How I wish I could go to church that day. Back then, I was one of the back-up singers. But, sadly, the failure of my body overtook the will to go. Good thing my family came back with lunch and made hot noodles.

My second Sunday at home was quite unforgettable. It was November 27, 2011. I was rushing to go to church. I just finished running—more like walking—the 3k of the Pasig River Run (it’s more of a ‘walk’, really) at about 7:30 a.m. I have an hour to get there. I was going to make it, if I hadn’t fell off of the sidewalk platform and badly sprained my right foot. That incident cost me that Sunday and about a week and a half of walking. It was a painful memory, having your dad call in a ‘fake massage therapist,’ commonly known as a manghihilot and twist your ankle like crazy. The pain is excruciating. I cried and screamed but they just ignored me. My sister even took a video of me crying. Gee, thanks, sis. But what added to the pain was the fact that I missed the service. I actually got to the church, but I didn’t get to play. I dragged my badly injured foot all the way from an overpass, rode a tricycle and got to church. They took me home to rest. That Sunday was horrible: the unexplainable pain given by that woman to my badly injured foot, the fact that my family left me all alone at home, and the fact that I wasn’t able to go to church. I felt better when the afternoon came—when everybody came back and my closest friends at church, including my best friend, came to visit me.

Today, well, I’m very tired. I could feel that heavy, blurry feeling in your head—the ones you get before headaches form. My mind is tired of thinking; my hands are tired from typing; my entire body is weak because of the lack of sleep. And my heart is aching ‘cause I didn’t make it to church.

Going to church on Sunday is not a routine—it’s a part of my lifestyle. It’s one of those moments that make you feel empty if you didn’t get to do that thing you usually do. Sunday might be my busiest day of the week, but it is definitely the most rewarding. You get to worship the LORD—thank Him for all His provision, grace and guidance throughout the week, you get to have a fellowship with your fellow Christians—to testify about God’s great doings and to empower each one, you get to see and be with the people who understand you—people who share the same faith, people who didn’t condemn you when you are at your worst, people who really care about you, people who wholeheartedly loves you… you get to see your real friends, the people you care about the most. The church is the one place where I am me—where I feel closer to my Maker more than ever—where I am truly happy.

I really wish I had the strength to make the paper earlier this day. But I guess God allowed me to oversleep for a while for my sake. Sleeping at 1 a.m. and waking up at 3:30 is probably not a good idea. Oh well, I thank God for helping me finish my paper. I thank Him for giving me the time to rest, I really need it. This is my third Sunday at home. I might as well enjoy it.

Earlier today, I was actually thinking what I would post in my blog tonight. There was really nothing that significant that happened to me today. I just reviewed for my Spanish exam and watched a movie and a couple of Kim Possible  and How I Met Your Mother episodes. These are a great watch, really, but a part of me sort of regrets watching them. Mainly it’s because these shows are portraying a common theme: love.

Love.

How I wish I knew the true meaning of that word. In TV shows, movies and even a couple of cartoons, love is portrayed in a very ideal, unrealistic, yeah-right-that-never-happens-in-real-life kind of way. People searching the world for their perfect match, but turns out the one they’re looking for has been in front of them the whole time (Kim Possible). That sometimes, no matter how hard you try, some people aren’t just meant to be (How I Met Your Mother, Season 2 Episode 22). Even the most unlikely and unlovable people can find love (Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas, 2003). There’s tons of things about love and romance everywhere. Falling in love with your best friend. Falling in love with your best friend’s girlfriend. Breaking up with someone. End up marrying the person you’ve been dating for 10 years.

Man, I have to take a break in watching these kinds of shows. It makes me think… makes me wonder…

What is it like to actually fall in love?

I’ve never been in a serious relationship before. Love has always been a blur to me. Well, I know that kind of love for your best and closest friends and love for family. I know what it’s like in that aspect. But that kind of love for “someone special”? I have no freaking idea.

When I was younger and still in high school—in the time of crushes, love notes, awkward love teams and giddy feeling—my classmates have this hobby of asking random questions to random people. One of the cliché questions was, “how do you define love?” To play it safe, I said to them—and I still say this whenever I encounter that question—“It is a four letter word that begins with the letter ‘L’.” I know it’s a safe, oh-she-doesn’t-want-to-show-her-real-cards kind of definition, but to be fair, it is a valid way of defining that word.  But what do you expect from someone who almost never fell in love before?

Almost never fell in love. Yeah, that’s how I put it. I’ve went as far as being infatuated with someone, to experience having mutual feelings with someone… but that’s it. As much as I’d like to say I’ve fallen for someone before, I can’t. ‘Cause I’m not really sure if I did.

What is it like to really be in love? It is really like how they show it on TV? Those “butterflies in your stomach”, “the beating of your heart goes faster”, “it feels like time was standing still”, “suddenly it feels like it’s only the two of you in this world”… those you-look-into-his-eyes-and-you-know-that-he-feels-the-same-way kind of moments… are any of those real? Do they really happen in real life? Or am I turning into a hopeless romantic?

Man, I hope not.

I really wonder what it’s like. To meet someone who will make you tear down your defenses. To have this unexplainable feeling. To actually feel nervous whenever you see him. To actually like someone. To find someone likes you back. To receive sweet text messages. To talk in the phone for hours. To go on dates. To hold hands with someone. To share earphones and listen to music. To get a stuffed toy and chocolates. To have someone carry your bag as he walks you home. To have mini-fights and make up. To watch the sunset together. To look into someone’s eyes. To be adored. To feel inspired.

To find someone special. To fall in love.

I wonder. Hmm, I’m actually smiling to myself right now. A part of me feels ridiculous. Sure, everybody is looking for somebody. But I’m not really the type of girl that is so worked up about these stuff. I don’t worry much about my appearance; I don’t really dress up; I don’t panic how I should approach a guy; I don’t go boy-hunting (okay, sometimes I do); I don’t try to get someone to text me… well, the point is, I guess this really is not my priority right now. And it’s just that I’m not that ready for that kind of commitment.

Call me old-fashioned, but when I enter a relationship, I don’t want it to be just special, I want it to be right. I want it to be serious, to lead to something more meaningful. I don’t want us to be with each other knowing soon that the relationship will end anyway. I don’t want it to be perfect—there is no such thing as a perfect relationship after all. I just want it to be just right, to have to love someone more and more each day.

Okay, maybe my thoughts on love are a bit ideal. These shows are really rubbing off on me.

Sigh.

I’ve been going on and on about this and still I don’t know what love is like. But maybe someday I will.

Someday, I will give a better definition of that four letter word. I just have to wait and see.

Impulse

Posted: January 14, 2013 in Uncategorized

I feel so tired. Literally. It’s as if all my strength and energy has been sucked out of me. I feel sick, feeling so cold when my skin feels so warm. Isn’t a nap supposed to make me feel otherwise? Like refreshed, relaxed and bursting with newfound energy? I groan at the pain I feel. What, did I run a 10K marathon to make me feel this tired? No. But what I did…

What did I do?

It’s all a blur. Well, sort of. I just woke up from a two-hour nap that led me to more exhaustion. Small flashbacks occurred in my head for split seconds. Little by little, I remember. The feeling. The guilty feeling…

My mind tries hard to ignore all negative thought—thoughts that would lead me to this sin. But slowly, it overpowered me. All reasoning seemed to flee my mind in a second. My hands started to move on their own. No. I don’t want this. I tried to stay still, to stop myself, but for some unknown reason, I wasn’t able to do so.  I have to stop. I want to stop. I need to stop. But my self-restraint fails me little by little. While being caught up in this feeling, I lose a hold of myself more. A string of restraint and self-control breaks with each passing second. The pounding of my heart got amplified, my head starting to spin. No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You shouldn’t let this happen. My heavy breaths turned to quick and short ones—I was panting. No. Get out. You can still run. Run away before it’s too late! But I didn’t. My heel refused to turn. I just stayed there… letting myself be drowned in the darkness that I never want to go back to.

No!

My eyes widened at the realization. I did something horrible. I should’ve ran… I should’ve escaped from this abyss. My God, forgive me.

I can’t believe I ended up doing it again.

I don’t understand. It wasn’t supposed to happen. It couldn’t have. I’ve got more control this time; I’ve been a lot more patient, I’ve considered the gravity of my actions again and again, I reminded myself of its aftermath. And… I promised myself I wouldn’t do it. Never again.

I thought I was ready to fight it. But I failed miserably.

Remembering what happened was a lot more painful than actually doing it. There it was again, the guilt, the disgust, the loss or self-respect, the tears, that sick feeling that continually creeps up on me.

I wanted to escape it. I wanted to be free of it. It was all too much. I spent years and years of practice trying to let reasoning win over my urges. But why does the latter always manage to win? Why can’t I stay sane? Why does my logical system have to crash every once in a while? Why am I left to act on instincts, out of impulse—acting barbaric and animal-like?

It was all I can do to fight back the tears. What would people think of me? This side of me…this dark side I’ve wanted to escape from for so long… what would happen if they gain knowledge of it? My best friend, the sole person who knows about this… she must be disappointed. I’ve failed her. I’ve failed the people around me. I’ve failed myself.

Oh, what I would give up to escape such a sin. What I would give up to not act out of impulse.

Cat Naps

Posted: January 13, 2013 in Random Moments
Tags: , , , , , , ,

In every circle of friends, each one has a characteristic that serves as her own identifier. In our circle, Cham is the smart and mysterious one; Coren is the cold one;  Angge is the fighter-type (note: not really the one that gets into fights, it’s more of being strong despite problems and such); Ricci is the clumsy one, while me? Well, I’m the sleepy one.

When you see me at school, well, at least, whenever the five of us are together, whether we are at our favorite spot in the university, whether we’re commuting or just sitting plainly in the classroom, I’m the one always dozing off, taking naps and such. I bet they have a collection of pictures of me while asleep. I always take naps. Maybe it’s because I just lack sleep or I just love to sleep. A lot. Sometimes I do it on purpose, but most of the time, my eyelids get heavy and I’m just pulled into dreamland.

Yesterday, someone took a nap with me.

No, it’s not what you think. It’s a cat, well, more of a kitty if you ask me.

After our first period, the five of us went to our favorite spot within the university—the botanical garden. That place just makes us relax. The whole space is full of trees and plants, and only a few people come there. It’s so peaceful, so serene, so far away from buildings, stress and schoolwork. It’s the only place in the university wherein you can actually lean back, relax… breathe. We went there to eat lunch when a small cat emerged from the bushes and came near us, making an adorable face, asking for a snack. It was drizzling. So what are the odds a cat would come out? I’m not really a cat person, so my first reaction was to ignore it. But it kept hanging around us, it even cuddled my leg. Kind of crept me out a little, but I guess that’s just how cats are. Anyway, we ended up feeding the cat. I was the one who tossed a small strip of chicken that I had for lunch, and a few left over pork that they had. It was not really much of a cute cat, it had a lot of… well, areas wherein his bare skin can be seen. This cat must’ve gone through a lot. But Cham, being a cat person, said that this cat was a domesticated one, because after we fed it, it kept hanging around us unlike most alley cats that would leave the moment you give it food.

After a while, we just went on with our business—studying, browsing notes, looking for variables that could be used for our thesis, talking, etc. The cat was still hanging around us. It even went up to Coren’s chair. Haha. I went out for about 30 minutes to buy some cookies and charge my cellphone. When I went back to the botanical garden, the cat was still there. Cool. We have an unofficial pet now. Still, I’m no cat person. I always picture cats as creatures that would just come near you for food and a creature that likes to take its claws out. Ugh. Dogs on the other hand, are adorable, playful, loyal, energetic… very awesome for a pet.

But anyway,

A few moments later, the cat suddenly reaches up my leg. Then boom! The cat was on my lap. He was shifting comfortably, and then began to take a nap. I, on the other hand, shifted uncomfortably. This fur ball is on my lap. I kept on asking my friends to remove it. But they didn’t for a little while. I looked down at the kitten. It’s kinda cute. Still small, slightly rolled to a ball-like position because of the cold weather… scared of being alone. I smile a little. It is cute once you’ve overlooked the exposed skin. But yeah, still uncomfortable with the fact that there’s a cat on my lap.

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After a few minutes, Cham finally removed the cat and transferred him on top of Ricci’s bag—which was on the chair next to me. The kitty just rolled to the same position that it was before and then continued its nap. That’s when I found it very adorable. Aww. It’s so cute.

After that, there’s not much to do. And then, as if on cue, my eyelids got heavy. I decided to take a quick nap just like the cat next to me.

5 minutes…

10 minutes…

15 minutes…

20 minutes…

I stretched my arms in content. That was a great nap. I turned to the chair next to me. The cat is still asleep. It drizzled and stopped then drizzled again. We transferred the bag—and the cat, too—to another table. But he’s still asleep. Man, I just got beaten at what I do best. I guess it’s what cats are really good at as well. And you can never beat someone at their own game. He was sleeping for about two hours or so.

When it was almost three o’ clock and we have to get to our next class, we said goodbye to Chippy. Yes, that’s what we decided to call him—mainly because of the cookies we ate while he’s around: Chips Delight. When I was walking out of the botanical garden, there was a small smile on my face. That cat taught me something. That in the midst of the rain, the troubles and a great deal of stress, it is nice to just take a little break. Lately, there’s been a lot of stress. Papers, the incoming prelims, OJT plans and other responsibilities. Oh! It’s nice to loosen up for a while, close your eyes and temporarily shut those negative things away—through a simple yet awesome power nap.