Archive for the ‘Epic Moments’ Category

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.

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