To understand a person's demeanor, we must take into consideration what was and what is. Just like how we study history. Just like how we evaluate a text (Pagsusuri ng Teksto ayon sa Teoryang Humanismo). We look into the past, and the present.
So we start from the end.
And by that, I mean I will refer to the first of my one hundred forty-three posts.
So here it goes.
After 1118 days, I still carry the same name, reside in the same zip code, and sleep in the same hour. I still loiter around the same corridors, publish paragraphs in the same blog, and interact with the same population. I still bore myself with boring things during boring Saturdays, still consider Jason Mraz as one of my favorite artists, still look forward for the annual Traslacion and still stir my mentality by looking at sunsets. I still consume a maximum of five hours in front of a radiated monitor, still don't accomplish homeworks at home, still repel any matter associated with Math, and still envision myself as a thriving astronaut after ten years or so.
But after 1118 days, I managed to renounce my patronage for Hale (It was just in my sophomore year when I realized that the lyrics of Hale are so cold), appreciate people not for their looks but for their values and relinquish the devil inside of me that got used to double-crossing.
I was able to do a production number and embarrass myself in front of a large mass of students, speak in a fake British accent and embarrass myself in front of a large mass of students, and sing “Brighter Than Sunshine” out of pitch––– and embarrass myself in front of a large mass of students.
I had three different hairstyles that were TORMENTED by people who may or may not care. I watched every multimillion-dollar fight of Manny Pacquiao and watched as Jinky get pregnant after every significant fight. I witnessed, for the very first time, a guy fell flat with his face to the floor. I protested against Apocalypse, our awful former batch name, and helped restore peace and order among classes. I was named as one of the members of the association that people feared and bowed down to upon hearing its name, The Chocoholics Association (Or Alpha Phi Tsokkolati) :D.
I received the first bouquet of flowers in my entire life(HAHAHA). I stumbled over the mini-fences in our school which caused a big lump of discoloration in my left leg. I used to get really doubtful because I never had a real crush. And then he came. I used to believe that I truly love him. But after a month, I realized that I still don't even understand what love is.
I was surrounded by people who always ate, rarely followed the rules, and never made a moment dull. I have cut class three times in the same subject, have dressed up like some eccentric, glorified superstar that was already verging on foolish, and have endured the relentless migraine and hyper acidity attacks that almost altered most of my moods.
I stepped once on our door at precisely 9 o'clock in the evening without my parents' consent. And that produced unkind words in my father's mouth and a week of suspicions and distrust. I stepped once into the door of a respected restaurant, sat for a while as the waiter handed the menu over, only to realize that I don't have enough money. So, WE hastily created a rational reason and excused ourselves out. Thus, we just ate at the restaurant beside it. The cheaper restaurant beside it.
I have swam twice in the same pool without my parents knowing. I did not sleep for a night for a group project that I completed all by myself . But I still got the highest score among our batch for an English exam that was scheduled the next day (HAHAHA, Arrogance much?) I have perfected two examinations so far, one of them being Trigonometry (I'm so proud!). I have turned down a suitor in one precise, calculated motion because I know I'm not ready yet. I belonged to two peer groups that immediately crumbled after a year. I played and won a volleyball game without using my hands (Hi Bea!). I forced myself into liking two freshman boys (not at the same time, of course) just so I can make use of my free time wisely.
And I am now cutting this autobiography short because I've been writing it for two days and I haven't had a decent sleep since the stressful exam week.
So we start from the end.
And by that, I mean I will refer to the first of my one hundred forty-three posts.
So here it goes.
After 1118 days, I still carry the same name, reside in the same zip code, and sleep in the same hour. I still loiter around the same corridors, publish paragraphs in the same blog, and interact with the same population. I still bore myself with boring things during boring Saturdays, still consider Jason Mraz as one of my favorite artists, still look forward for the annual Traslacion and still stir my mentality by looking at sunsets. I still consume a maximum of five hours in front of a radiated monitor, still don't accomplish homeworks at home, still repel any matter associated with Math, and still envision myself as a thriving astronaut after ten years or so.
But after 1118 days, I managed to renounce my patronage for Hale (It was just in my sophomore year when I realized that the lyrics of Hale are so cold), appreciate people not for their looks but for their values and relinquish the devil inside of me that got used to double-crossing.
I was able to do a production number and embarrass myself in front of a large mass of students, speak in a fake British accent and embarrass myself in front of a large mass of students, and sing “Brighter Than Sunshine” out of pitch––– and embarrass myself in front of a large mass of students.
I had three different hairstyles that were TORMENTED by people who may or may not care. I watched every multimillion-dollar fight of Manny Pacquiao and watched as Jinky get pregnant after every significant fight. I witnessed, for the very first time, a guy fell flat with his face to the floor. I protested against Apocalypse, our awful former batch name, and helped restore peace and order among classes. I was named as one of the members of the association that people feared and bowed down to upon hearing its name, The Chocoholics Association (Or Alpha Phi Tsokkolati) :D.
I received the first bouquet of flowers in my entire life(HAHAHA). I stumbled over the mini-fences in our school which caused a big lump of discoloration in my left leg. I used to get really doubtful because I never had a real crush. And then he came. I used to believe that I truly love him. But after a month, I realized that I still don't even understand what love is.
I was surrounded by people who always ate, rarely followed the rules, and never made a moment dull. I have cut class three times in the same subject, have dressed up like some eccentric, glorified superstar that was already verging on foolish, and have endured the relentless migraine and hyper acidity attacks that almost altered most of my moods.
I stepped once on our door at precisely 9 o'clock in the evening without my parents' consent. And that produced unkind words in my father's mouth and a week of suspicions and distrust. I stepped once into the door of a respected restaurant, sat for a while as the waiter handed the menu over, only to realize that I don't have enough money. So, WE hastily created a rational reason and excused ourselves out. Thus, we just ate at the restaurant beside it. The cheaper restaurant beside it.
I have swam twice in the same pool without my parents knowing. I did not sleep for a night for a group project that I completed all by myself . But I still got the highest score among our batch for an English exam that was scheduled the next day (HAHAHA, Arrogance much?) I have perfected two examinations so far, one of them being Trigonometry (I'm so proud!). I have turned down a suitor in one precise, calculated motion because I know I'm not ready yet. I belonged to two peer groups that immediately crumbled after a year. I played and won a volleyball game without using my hands (Hi Bea!). I forced myself into liking two freshman boys (not at the same time, of course) just so I can make use of my free time wisely.
And I am now cutting this autobiography short because I've been writing it for two days and I haven't had a decent sleep since the stressful exam week.
But you know, despite of every transient detail, one thing remained unchanged. Choomboombleh is still choomboombleh. It may have different versions but it will always be the word that means nothing but can still mean everything. It’s timeless.
______________________________
Sana - Up Dharma Down
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Sana - Up Dharma Down
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