My friend (Let's call her Elle in case she wishes not to be named) studies in a design school in Hong Kong. While I, by no means, regret opting to study in the country and not in the "best" school in the country at that, it does sound like a wonderful lifestyle.
She lives in an apartment by the beach with a bunch of friends. While I studiously avoid going near deep bodies of water, I can't seem to dislike waves crashing along the shore (I, once more adventurous, used to walk to the sandbar of a local beach in our bi-annual visits to sandy shores. I've turned "wiser" now, owning up to the vulnerability of being one of the few people I know who doesn't know how to swim. Still, those sun-soaked days call to me sometimes: memories, as usual, flash at me sharply: the joy of waking up to a low tide, finding hermit crabs at the sandbar, the jagged edge of a glass shard piercing through my finger as I pick up shells. If I were to do something cheesy like relate this to my life, I could- the hermit crabs illustrate how I find shelter and a home for my heart in the most unexpected, but beautiful of beings; the glass shards are the warning that "all that glisters is not gold [or diamonds]").
She studies in downtown Hong Kong, which about tickles me to bits. When I travel to foreign countries, the first place I love to explore is downtown: what better way to get to a feel of the present culture than in sideways shops and hole-in-the corner cafes? Besides, I love the inhibition it brings: walking downtown in a foreign country gives you so much anonymity. (Recently, my family and I were caught in a thunderstorm in the streets of Hong Kong- after an avenue full of business-y buildings, we found shelter in a random restaurant that was so tiny. Needless to say, the noodles and the dimsum were very good. Much, much, earlier, my parents & I got lost in a train station in France- ironic, really, since we were on the way to a pilgrimage at Lourdes. We ended up having to sleep in the train. It was quite the adventure.)
Needless to say, I am very pleased that she has worlds to explore in that one country- er, I mean administrative region. ;) I'm keeping this as a reminder that someday, too, the world shall be mine to explore. :)
(I started this entry with very different ideas- I'm not sure how it evolved to this. I seem to be very fond of stream of consciousness writing at the moment o.o.)
Monday, June 3, 2013
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Dear Pisay Student Turned Atenean
Dear Pisay student turned Atenean,
Congratulations. By taking this first step, you're now one of a kind. You're atypical, even for student in a school full of super nerds. Not perhaps because of any uncanny sort of intellect, but because of your bravery. You have, pardon the triteness, taken the road less traveled.
Maybe you're questioning it now. Maybe a lot of people are haranguing you with questions- why Ateneo? This will bother you. Maybe you regret it just a little bit. Maybe you're walking into it without any doubts, without any questions, without any regrets. (If so, I salute you. That's pretty rare.)
Rest assured, though- no matter what frame of mind you're in, Ateneo will teach you more about yourself than you'd expected to know (but that's life, I guess).
Firstly, you will learn not ever to rely on the familiar. You won't be around the same people anymore- and most of those you know will have their own individual experiences. A large chunk of your batch, too, will be experiencing the same things- the Ikot, the Oble, running from class from one faraway building to another.
You'll feel left out at first; (it's only natural), but you'll have your own experiences too. You'll look at your new classmates (perhaps a lot of them knew each other from high school). They won't be people you know yet (likely), but they'll be people you WILL know. And that's half the fun of it.
You'll have JSEC; you'll have Katipunan lunches with your block; you'll figure out whether Father de la Costa has his right hand over his left, or the other way around. You'll find ways to avoid the guards when you don't have your ID. You'll fall asleep on the Rizal Lib couches. You'll cram for Math long tests at Matteo. Maybe you'll even memorize the Ateneo cheers in time for UAAP.
Secondly, you will learn to be humbled by the intelligence you encounter day to day. For years, you've been exposed to the science and math geeks of the country. You've been led to believe that you are the cream of the cream of the crop. Perhaps you think it matters.
It doesn't. Sure, you may be labelled as a "smart Pisay kid", but you can't rely on that. Eventually you'll learn that intelligence comes in many forms and that the Pisay education, wonderful and comprehensive as it is, cannot always be your fallback. There will be people smarter than you (and admittedly, stupid-er than you), but the playing field is never even.
You may be the cream of the cream of the crop, but the crop is bountiful. You, too, will be awed.
Thirdly, you're going to learn that life isn't always about the "useful" things. You'll be taking core classes. You will wonder: "What does studying metafiction or the elements of drama or reading Kasunod ng 909 have to do with my degree program?" You will keep wondering that as you go on, (and cursing the hell Ateneo's putting you through) . Maybe, though, with a little bit of introspection, you'll learn that your critical thinking skills have sharpened with that bit of exposure to the "softer side" of academics.
It's not always about scientific investigations or mathematical proof- sometimes, human motivations and a love for art and whimsical things can make you a better person and a greater thinker, questioner and doer.
Lastly, and best of all, you'll learn to love this road less taken.
Congratulations, and see you around. :)
//
hastily written- I still have Psych papers, but I'm glad I got this out of my system.
Congratulations. By taking this first step, you're now one of a kind. You're atypical, even for student in a school full of super nerds. Not perhaps because of any uncanny sort of intellect, but because of your bravery. You have, pardon the triteness, taken the road less traveled.
Maybe you're questioning it now. Maybe a lot of people are haranguing you with questions- why Ateneo? This will bother you. Maybe you regret it just a little bit. Maybe you're walking into it without any doubts, without any questions, without any regrets. (If so, I salute you. That's pretty rare.)
Rest assured, though- no matter what frame of mind you're in, Ateneo will teach you more about yourself than you'd expected to know (but that's life, I guess).
Firstly, you will learn not ever to rely on the familiar. You won't be around the same people anymore- and most of those you know will have their own individual experiences. A large chunk of your batch, too, will be experiencing the same things- the Ikot, the Oble, running from class from one faraway building to another.
You'll feel left out at first; (it's only natural), but you'll have your own experiences too. You'll look at your new classmates (perhaps a lot of them knew each other from high school). They won't be people you know yet (likely), but they'll be people you WILL know. And that's half the fun of it.
You'll have JSEC; you'll have Katipunan lunches with your block; you'll figure out whether Father de la Costa has his right hand over his left, or the other way around. You'll find ways to avoid the guards when you don't have your ID. You'll fall asleep on the Rizal Lib couches. You'll cram for Math long tests at Matteo. Maybe you'll even memorize the Ateneo cheers in time for UAAP.
Secondly, you will learn to be humbled by the intelligence you encounter day to day. For years, you've been exposed to the science and math geeks of the country. You've been led to believe that you are the cream of the cream of the crop. Perhaps you think it matters.
It doesn't. Sure, you may be labelled as a "smart Pisay kid", but you can't rely on that. Eventually you'll learn that intelligence comes in many forms and that the Pisay education, wonderful and comprehensive as it is, cannot always be your fallback. There will be people smarter than you (and admittedly, stupid-er than you), but the playing field is never even.
You may be the cream of the cream of the crop, but the crop is bountiful. You, too, will be awed.
Thirdly, you're going to learn that life isn't always about the "useful" things. You'll be taking core classes. You will wonder: "What does studying metafiction or the elements of drama or reading Kasunod ng 909 have to do with my degree program?" You will keep wondering that as you go on, (and cursing the hell Ateneo's putting you through) . Maybe, though, with a little bit of introspection, you'll learn that your critical thinking skills have sharpened with that bit of exposure to the "softer side" of academics.
It's not always about scientific investigations or mathematical proof- sometimes, human motivations and a love for art and whimsical things can make you a better person and a greater thinker, questioner and doer.
Lastly, and best of all, you'll learn to love this road less taken.
Congratulations, and see you around. :)
//
hastily written- I still have Psych papers, but I'm glad I got this out of my system.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Sea Change; See Change.
I can't sleep. I've been to used to the sleepless nights spent doing papers or studying for Math tests. In fact, I'm craving for a cheese sandwich because the past few weeks, I've been eating my breakfast at around this time. (My nightly schedule during hell week was nap from 8-9, work from 9-3, breakfast at 3, sleep from 3-6, then school! Yay.)
At this rate, I do think I really need a sea change. I'm glad I'll be out of the country for a few days starting Tuesday.In fact, I texted Isaiah's mother today about something. Her reply ran something along the lines of, "Stop worrying. You'll get wrinkles" So yeah. I do think I need to keep my mind off everything school-related right now. It will just make me question my life choices all the more; and frankly, while I've grown to be a more self-actualized individual this past school year, I think I just need to let loose really. I've been....tense the past few weeks. And, I still don't really feel that feeling of release. Weird, right? (And no, I don't mean this in a suggestive sort of way.)
I can't fully free myself from "school", or at the very least, academic things, though. In my luggage are Terry Eagleton's Literary Theory, a copy of The Book Thief I started way back in high school and in my handbag (Girbaud yay, because I allow myself to be brand conscious sometimes) is An Oresteia. While my love of books has always been a given, it's a bit different now because I am determined to be "serious" about learning something about Lit at least, especially now that my mother shot down my proposal of shifting to Lit. I'm resigned to the fact it will never be my major, but at least it can be my passion.
I am shifting to Legal Management instead, and minoring in Lit. I don't think I want to spend my next three years in college, worrying about a possible noose at my neck so I'm cutting to the chase and shifting. Besides...I wasn't really happy in a Math heavy course. While I love the subject at a distance and it's actually fun to talk about, doing it is another matter entirely. Besides, I acknowledge I chose it as a means to an end: I really, really am hoping I'm not too burned out to get to law school at the end of these four years.
Que sera, sera.
--
On another note, do listen to "The xx." Their entire album. It's haunting. At least, for me.
At this rate, I do think I really need a sea change. I'm glad I'll be out of the country for a few days starting Tuesday.In fact, I texted Isaiah's mother today about something. Her reply ran something along the lines of, "Stop worrying. You'll get wrinkles" So yeah. I do think I need to keep my mind off everything school-related right now. It will just make me question my life choices all the more; and frankly, while I've grown to be a more self-actualized individual this past school year, I think I just need to let loose really. I've been....tense the past few weeks. And, I still don't really feel that feeling of release. Weird, right? (And no, I don't mean this in a suggestive sort of way.)
I can't fully free myself from "school", or at the very least, academic things, though. In my luggage are Terry Eagleton's Literary Theory, a copy of The Book Thief I started way back in high school and in my handbag (Girbaud yay, because I allow myself to be brand conscious sometimes) is An Oresteia. While my love of books has always been a given, it's a bit different now because I am determined to be "serious" about learning something about Lit at least, especially now that my mother shot down my proposal of shifting to Lit. I'm resigned to the fact it will never be my major, but at least it can be my passion.
I am shifting to Legal Management instead, and minoring in Lit. I don't think I want to spend my next three years in college, worrying about a possible noose at my neck so I'm cutting to the chase and shifting. Besides...I wasn't really happy in a Math heavy course. While I love the subject at a distance and it's actually fun to talk about, doing it is another matter entirely. Besides, I acknowledge I chose it as a means to an end: I really, really am hoping I'm not too burned out to get to law school at the end of these four years.
Que sera, sera.
--
On another note, do listen to "The xx." Their entire album. It's haunting. At least, for me.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
In Retrospect.
Right now, there are two types of M-06ers: the jubilant and the secretly saddened. Needless to say, I fall under the latter portion. There's nobody but myself to blame for the situation, I guess. I've set myself up to be the latter portion from the very first day, when sitting in the front row, I hesitantly raised my hand to volunteer as beadle. She asked me to fetch her coffee, forcing me to leave the classroom and buy one Americano, two brown sugars, no cream.
After that, there was no turning back.
People ask me a bunch of things about her:
a.) Do I have parental issues that manifest in my complete adoration of Miss Diaz?
b.) Am I masochistic?
While the first isn't true, I guess, and the second is debatable, I really thank this woman for making me work and understand my limitations. Similarly, she is the reason I understand the depths of my passion for Literature: cheesy to say right now, but boundless.
And so, without further ado:
Diazpora: A Guide for (Mourning) M-06ers *
You wake up in the middle of the afternoon, realizing it's been weeks since you've let yourself sleep for more than ten minutes in the middle of the day. The sleep is refreshing, but-
There is a numbness you feel when you realize there are no papers to write, no inch-thick readings to pore over and no sunlight streaming/storm clouds hovering over B-102 (surprisingly reflective of Ma'am's mood and lipstick color of the day) to look forward to.
You drift off to sleep, only to jolt yourself awake ten minutes later (SHIII- I haven't finished my CRP) only to realize:
It's the numbness again.
Denial is evident in the stack of papers you've filled your desk with and the stack of books you've gathered under the pretense of "I need it for school" when secretly, you're thrilled at the thought of being an "honorary" Lit minor. You browse through your books and pick one out (Grief, Joan Didion says, strikes us most because it is always preceded by the ordinary.)
While you can't call this grief (There is no loss, is there? Merely the regaining of the "ordinary", the sense of normalcy after those ten months spent in a daze), there's a certain depth to the emptiness you deny feeling. (Breakups are sharp shards of glass; deaths are waves upon waves of loss while this- this is just the starkness of the unknown.)
Grief, Didion says, strikes us most because it is always preceded by the ordinary. You realize that what you are feeling is the reverse: what do you do when you've become so used to the extraordinary? When the extraordinary becomes your ordinary ( and then "rights" itself again)?
Being the true Diaz student that you are, you write. You write and you forget the expository techniques you've so recently learned. You look at what you've written and you laugh, knowing she would have a lot to criticize about your work (This is terrible; you've actually tried to be metafictive- it did not work; I told you; you must have a narrative framework).
You smile as you realize: it's never the writing skills you've completely imbibed; it's the raw emotion.
You guess it's not a loss, after all.
*Thank you, Jan Ong, for thinking up Diazpora.
(Disclaimer: While this is a sight better than the drivel I've been posting the past few months, this is in no way indicative of the quality of M-06 works.)
After that, there was no turning back.
People ask me a bunch of things about her:
a.) Do I have parental issues that manifest in my complete adoration of Miss Diaz?
b.) Am I masochistic?
While the first isn't true, I guess, and the second is debatable, I really thank this woman for making me work and understand my limitations. Similarly, she is the reason I understand the depths of my passion for Literature: cheesy to say right now, but boundless.
And so, without further ado:
Diazpora: A Guide for (Mourning) M-06ers *
You wake up in the middle of the afternoon, realizing it's been weeks since you've let yourself sleep for more than ten minutes in the middle of the day. The sleep is refreshing, but-
There is a numbness you feel when you realize there are no papers to write, no inch-thick readings to pore over and no sunlight streaming/storm clouds hovering over B-102 (surprisingly reflective of Ma'am's mood and lipstick color of the day) to look forward to.
You drift off to sleep, only to jolt yourself awake ten minutes later (SHIII- I haven't finished my CRP) only to realize:
It's the numbness again.
Denial is evident in the stack of papers you've filled your desk with and the stack of books you've gathered under the pretense of "I need it for school" when secretly, you're thrilled at the thought of being an "honorary" Lit minor. You browse through your books and pick one out (Grief, Joan Didion says, strikes us most because it is always preceded by the ordinary.)
While you can't call this grief (There is no loss, is there? Merely the regaining of the "ordinary", the sense of normalcy after those ten months spent in a daze), there's a certain depth to the emptiness you deny feeling. (Breakups are sharp shards of glass; deaths are waves upon waves of loss while this- this is just the starkness of the unknown.)
Grief, Didion says, strikes us most because it is always preceded by the ordinary. You realize that what you are feeling is the reverse: what do you do when you've become so used to the extraordinary? When the extraordinary becomes your ordinary ( and then "rights" itself again)?
Being the true Diaz student that you are, you write. You write and you forget the expository techniques you've so recently learned. You look at what you've written and you laugh, knowing she would have a lot to criticize about your work (This is terrible; you've actually tried to be metafictive- it did not work; I told you; you must have a narrative framework).
You smile as you realize: it's never the writing skills you've completely imbibed; it's the raw emotion.
You guess it's not a loss, after all.
*Thank you, Jan Ong, for thinking up Diazpora.
(Disclaimer: While this is a sight better than the drivel I've been posting the past few months, this is in no way indicative of the quality of M-06 works.)
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