I was awakened by the sound of an alarm ringing in the distance this morning. Incessant. Low at first and slowly getting louder. I remember thinking It probably wasn’t a good idea to sleep at 3 am, as my eyelids drooped. It happens often before a big day. I wouldn’t even feel nervous, just okay, but I can hardly fall sleep. It’s like I’m oblivious to how I really feel. Buried somewhere I haven’t touched. I looked at the clock, wished I could fall asleep at least thirty minutes more because that’s how I set my alarm. But realized that it was already 5:45 and I was supposed to be at school by 6:30.
It really wasn’t a good idea to have only two hours of sleep for such a packed day.
Today was our ORSEM. Orientation Seminar. Freshmen and transferees have to attend the ORSEM because it’s one of the requirements to acquire the I.D. It goes on for three days and it’s full of things I do not know and did not even imagine, and full of activities I know would have long lines because really what’s registration without the long lines. I didn’t really know what to expect when I came to school this morning. I had a very vague idea of it. I couldn’t imagine what to do for three days in an orientation seminar. I had no idea why it would even take three days. Other universities just usually take a day.
No matter the long lines, the huge crowds, the small space you have, the constant hitting of elbows and arms of your neighbors, the embarrassment of being in groups with no one you know, ORSEM day 1 was fun. I went inside the campus with my friend, where we were given a booklet titled “ORSEM 2013/ FULL FORCE: A Freshmen’s Guide”. We consulted it, having no idea where to go next and seeing that we would have to go to the Peace Park to register, which we then looked for in the map that was in the guide and felt lost in the map because man, where the hell is the freaking Peace Park. So we did the next good option. Which is to follow the crowd. And hope we end up in the registration for the Engineering students. Which we did. Kind of. We were led near the canteen (Magis building. Is that the spelling? They told us that was the name) where people were holding arrows with “ENG’G”, “NURSING”, “CIT” and etc. (code for I can’t remember the others) printed on them. We registered and we were led into the gym by line like we were not at all in college (But we’re freshmen. We’re still very young okay).
The place was filling up fast. Bleachers were occupied according to college/courses. I’m taking up Industrial Engineering. Since I am in Engineering, I was wearing a maroon shirt (which is very hard to find I don’t know why). Nursing=blue. SBM=yellow. ArtSci=Red. Educ=blue. Agri=green. I’m confused with CIT and Comp Sc. I forgot who was wearing the black and gray shirts. I think CIT= Black. Yup.
I really loved the start! It was all about the chant of the school, the chant of your college with the fizz of competition in the air. Everyone was so hyper and excited and so proud of where they were that I kept laughing at everything. I loved how everyone was so vibrant and eager and the volunteers/leaders were so happy they danced and shook their hair and screamed. I love it so much because it’s so beautiful to see people so alive and feeling. I am so happy because so many people were so happy and confident and proud, it makes me want to see the world like that more often. And watch basketball games live. That was the spectacle for me, what made the day worth it, what I remember most of this day. Everyone is so passionate about something that it makes me smile so much because they are getting what they want and they’re happy and it’s enough. I love people who show they’re alive. Who do something. I love seeing it. That’s what I remember the most. Not the meeting of the deans or the speeches or the discussions or the mass or the singing of the Xavier anthem that I did not know the words to or the facilitator who reminded me so much of that girl from Bridesmaids who pooped in the sink when they were trying on the gowns. It was the people. The people who visited, who made faces and jokes, who were funny and witty and confident, who had nothing to hide. I love seeing people so bare. So carefree.
Maybe that’s why I love the arts. I like seeing emotion. I like how paintings could have a million interpretations or how a song could move us to tears or how a movie changed who we are. I remember now why I do what I do, why I love what I’m doing. To evoke emotion. To feel alive. To be alive. And to bring people there.
I want to do that. I want to be that. I don’t care how many people ask me why I didn’t take Development Communications and it hurts a bit, it’s not English Literature or Creative Writing or Communication Arts. It’s not Industrial Engineering. Even though I have never seen myself as an engineer, never wanted to be called engineer before, I think I want it now. I want to stay here, where it’s nice, where there are so many passionate people here. I’m not saying the other colleges don’t have these people. I’m just saying that the passion I see from people in Engineering is what I want. I want their boisterous laughter. I want to immerse myself in it. I want to be wild and to make things and have people clap me on the back when they hear me say I’m taking up engineering (even though I think the math would kill me) and to chant their chant (E *clapclap* N *clapclap* G *clapclap* apostrophe G!!!) because it’s really cool. It’s different but I like it. I think I do. I like it so far anyway.
I want to be passionate. I want to experience Xavier.
I’m officially a BS Industrial Engineering freshman in Xavier University.
All I can say about enrollment is that it is a very long, very tiring process that is full of long lines and waiting periods and walking from one building to another. I thought it would be as easy as giving the requirements and getting a “You are now a student! Yay!” but alas, it is only my naive mind. Having studied in one school my whole life, enrollment was just filling out forms and paying down payments and leaving with my section in hand, so I was unaware of what was looming ahead of me when I thought that hey, today would be a really good day to enroll. All sunshine and thinking it wouldn’t take long and oh, good jolly, I might have my schedule by the end of the day! Someone really should have slapped me at that time.
I was actually going to enroll last week. Last Wednesday, I think. Enrollment for the freshmen started last Monday. I was going to do it on Monday but my friends postponed. So I went last Wednesday, very early in the morning because my friends told me the lines were insanely long (which I didn’t understand because why would the school be open at 6 in the morning?). But I went still, and as I was going, my friend called me and told me that that very day, they were only going to entertain people based on their GSA, which meant that I could only be enrolled this week because my GSA wasn’t very high to start with (I have my reasons okay). We spent that day instead, eating breakfast at Jollibee and walking around Centrio, where I learned one very important thing which is not to drink Jollibee’s hot choco because I can’t handle it very well. I spent two whole days curled up on the sofa, whimpering and crying and very sick, and constantly going to the bathroom. The pain was excruciating. I was seriously considering if kids would be worth it if the pain could be that much. The pain was literally how I think contractions would feel. It was like I was being stabbed in the stomach. With each stab, the knife driving deeper. Those were one of the most horrible days of my life. I thought I was going to the hospital since nobody knew what to do with me. But it did pass once I got the hot choco out of my system.
On Monday, which was when we were really going to enroll, I woke up because of a phone call and not by an alarm (which isn’t very good but still can wake you up). I thought it was just my friend reminding me to wake up early, we’ll enroll today, you know, the usual. But I was very surprised when she asked me where I was because they’ve been waiting for half an hour already and told me that they’re already in line, then I instinctively looked up at the clock and damn it, it was already six am. We were supposed to meet at 5:30 am (it’s almost like it isn’t summer). I started to panic. “We’re almost there,” my friend said. “You have to hurry up.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes, I swear,” I said while putting on clothes.
The first day I was going to enroll in college, the start of my college life, the day where it all started….and I didn’t take a bath. Damn.
I arrived in school after ten minutes, yeah. I had no idea where to go but I saw people heading in one direction and since nobody goes to school at 6 am just to sit around because nobody wakes up early for just any reason, I followed them.
Indeed, the line was very long. It was a major wtf moment for me to be honest. It’s summer and people actually wake up very early and make really long lines just for enrollment. The world is changing, I tell you.
I texted my friend, asking where she was, and she told me she was really ahead, which was really embarrassing and made me really conflicted on which side I really was on regarding justice as I walked to the front, ignoring the looks people gave me and hugged my friend. I am a terrible person. Preaching feminism and justice. I am a hypocrite. (I really just wanted to enroll that day ok. I had to do it)
I was feeling embarrassed at first. But then it turned out that I wasn’t the only one in our group who cut in line so I felt a ~bit~ better after a while. We waited for an hour when the line had finally started to move. The girl checked our requirements and gave us a priority number (*tears* we were lining up just for a priority number I cannot) and a little piece of paper to fill out. We waited yet again and I played with Alexa’s Blackberry because I was bored and I don’t really know much about Blackberry phones. Once our numbers were called, we gave our requirements. We were told to wait for a while to get our requirements back and to write our names on the list so we could take the psychological test that would happen later in the afternoon.
Basically it was a very long process and I am lazy and this is getting long, so I’m going to do it in bullet form.
Okay. It doesn’t seem as long as I thought but the process is extremely tiring. There’s a lot of requirements. I can’t even get my I.D yet.
I’m very happy with my schedule! I get to go home early! I don’t have a free Wednesday like the others but I don’t have a very packed schedule anyway. My classes start at 9 am, which I think is very lucky. I really do love my schedule.
I’m really nervous and very excited about everything. I’m thinking more about my choices than about the first week of school and just basically the math classes. I know IE has never been my first choice but it is what I’ve picked and I hope I made a good decision. This is a new path that leads to a new and different world. It’s going to be difficult and it’s going to be extremely confusing and different but I’m going to accept it. I’m going to trudge on. This is my life and I truly accept it. Even though I suck at math and picking Engineering is suicide, it’s okay. Not everyone can draw but they can still take Architecture. Not everyone is good at Economics but they can still take Accountancy. Not everyone can understand equations and math but they still can take Engineering. Because that is why we’re here. We’re here to learn. We don’t necessarily need to be good at anything, only willing to understand and know more about it. We all need to be led to knowledge.
And that is why I’m not worried now. Maybe I’ll be worried later. When the numbers start to bother me and the formulas aren’t making sense anymore. I honestly, completely believe I will be okay because I am here to learn. I’m going to try. I’m going to do it.
When you hurt yourself and don’t put a band-aid on it because you think you deserve the pain
Your body creates a natural band-aid to keep you protected.
When you want to tear open your skin
Your skin fights back, creates a tough skin of scar tissue to prevent it happening again.
When you take all those pills because you’ve had enough
Your stomach contracts to get rid of them
Because your body
Wants you
To live.
You know, I completely understand our situation. I completely understand what we have to do and why we have to do them. I don’t like to complain about it because I understand that we need to do chores and help around the house and to complain would go against my morals and would leave me guilty for a long amount of time. I’m the kind of person who, honestly, tries to do the right thing always. Sometimes I get vain attempts but it matters to me that I at least tried. That I cared enough to try.
(under a read more because I am upset and if you don’t care, then you should just move on)
I think the lack of brain activity has taken a toll on my, well, brain. I keep forgetting words that I do remember knowing the meanings before that moment, and I am starting to lose my understanding of prepositions like what exactly to use in that sentence, you know? Originally, the title of this post was going to be “When The Days Start During The A.M Period” and then I used “When The Days Start In The A.M” but the whole thing bothered me and confused me so I just used In The Morning. Do you see what I mean? I am so emotionally disturbed by the fact that I am forgetting these things. Earlier this evening I was explaining to my dad how since the clubhouse in our subdivision is pretty close to some houses it would disturb the owners but I kept blanking out on the word ‘clubhouse’ and pausing so much I actually sounded like I didn’t have a clue what I was saying that I just said “…you know, the place where they have the parties”. Clubhouse. That was the word. Of all the things I could stress over, I know, I know. But I really like the English language and would like to respect its rules. I am Javert, slave of the law. The law of the English language, I guess.
I’m going to be all teenager-y and whiny right now so if you hiss at the sight of that kind of species, beware.
I woke up two days ago with my father telling me our maid went home and will not go back here, nuh-uh, we will fend for ourselves because we are strong, independent family who need no maid, yes. That’s not verbatim but I like to think my dad could actually be that sassy. I knew, of course, that our maid would go home because she told me weeks before, waving around her resume, going out a lot to “find work”, sleeping a lot, leaving the house uncleaned and all that. She said it was because of my sister, how Pia was rude and horrible and devil incarnated and ugh just ugh no, and how when a family friend who lives in our house lost her money and my dad asked her if she took it, she said she was “insulted” that my dad even asked her (like we weren’t also asked if we took it. FYI: We were asked, too). I don’t know. Her reasons don’t feel legit to me. It’s like she wants to leave so she tried all she could to find a good enough reason to leave and make it look like Goodbye, tormentors of my life, I’ll be more successful than you! *cue evil laugh whilst having dramatic exit*
I’m sad because we were kind of close and my dog doesn’t take to new people well so it’d be difficult and also because damn, she has my really nice black jacket and really cute red bag. I mean, I returned her brown bag when I knew she’d be leaving but hey, okay. At least I returned what I borrowed.
Since we don’t have anyone cleaning the house, we would now. So I wash the dishes three times a day, clean and sweep the house, feed my dog, water the garden, cook rice, pay the bills and all that. I rope my sister in on the chores because I’m a selfish person who would not at all accept doing things she would rather not do while her sister does the things she likes doing like sitting in front of the computer (I know, right? Our similarities. We’re sisters after all). The worst part of it isn’t even washing the dishes three times a day, it’s the waking up in the morning to get Pia from her summer class (Yeah. You heard me right. Summer class. Math. It’s like the only person who skipped the sucks at math gene is my brother). She’s going to be a sixth grader! I was practically begging my dad to make me go home alone when I was a fourth grader! I wanted to “explore the world and be independent”. I don’t know. I think I was thinking of how I would survive in this world without being scared of everything.
Just sharing but I totally saw a kid with a mouth brace or *whatever it is but I think it’s a mouth brace I’m totally blanking out on a word again*. You’d think they only exist in movies but think again. Also, my dad made me pay the bills and now I feel really grown-up. I can totally feel my sixteen year old-ness. Now I just need my dad to teach me how to drive. If he ever would get over his aversion to teaching me. Just sharing part 2. My dad was really weird today. He asked me how much I needed to get Pia so I said it. He was still going to withdraw cash so he said he’d give me what I need to get there and get the money from Pia to go home (because Pia and papa go out together for their class/work in the morning) but he gave me just what I needed to go back and forth. Which was weird. And when I got to Pia she gave me twenty pesos because my dad said that we might need more money (even though we didn’t). And then she gave me five hundred pesos because my dad, after a while, gave her the money to give to me again because we might need more. It was really weird. I was even considering buying a book with it but I felt guilty so I just bought food for me and Pia and gave the remaining money back.
The problem with me when I know I’m supposed to do something is that I constantly stress over it. I constantly think and wonder and worry over it. Even in my sleep. When I know I have to wake up on 9 in the morning because Pia gets out 10 but would like to be taken at 10:30 and the ride going there is 30 minutes, I don’t sleep well. I wake up at 3, then 5, then 6 (because I have to wake Pia up. She says she’s a “heavy sleeper” so “alarms wouldn’t affect her”. That little sh*t), then sleep, then wake up at 7, then bam thank God it’s 9. Every day (except weekends), it would now be like that. That’s what I hate most about it. I can’t sleep well when there’s something coming up. Also, to hell with it, it’s summer. And they say you should relish the summer before college because in college, summer doesn’t even feel like summer anymore.
The first half of summer, my days started in the afternoon, when it’s past lunch, and the light is orange or yellow or just that light that only afternoons have, and I slept at dawn and couldn’t care, and I did nothing but only what I wanted to. That was my summer. That was the summer I was looking forward to. A time when nothing could touch me, when all that could be was all what I wanted it to be. Time passed by but I had so much that my hours were without worry. Like with water, I swam in it and floated and felt the rays on my face and smiled.
But this summer is different. The second half of summer is different. This second half of summer when I worry about sleeping too late and thinking about how many hours I could have, and doing things out of pure necessity. This second half of summer that forces me to grow, to stand up, to move because I could get hit, I have to survive. But this is how life is, I think. Summer was mine. The first half of summer was mine and I loved it but time goes on and we have to live in the now. We can’t live in our fantasies because that’s not life. That’s not a real life. This is life. Life with its consequences and with its rewards.
That’s life. It’s life when the days start in the morning.
It’s late. It’s early morning right now as I type this, almost 4, yet I am awake when most are sleeping (but by the time I publish this everyone must be awake). But I enjoy moments like this, when all is quiet, when I’m alone and it’s like I am free to do anything, be anything. A moment of freedom, a moment without feeling like somebody is watching. Those moments are hard to get by, but I get them when the sun is still about to rise, not when it has risen. So I spend this moment of solace watching a beautiful movie that I had long since wanted to watch ever since I heard of it and I am grateful.
Dead Poets Society is a story about some students in one of the best schools in the country with all its tradition and rules and strict plans. All the hard subjects with all the teachers who seem to hate everything but perfection. It goes on its boring cycle, that is, until Mr. Keating comes along, a new english teacher who doesn’t allow himself to conformity. He teaches students to rip out pages of their textbook, make them stand on desks to see the world in a different perspective, make them walk in courtyards, make poetry, call him O Captain, My Captain if not Mr. Keating, and generally Carpe Diem. Carpe Diem, my friends.
Some boys find Mr. Keating interesting, so they get his yearbook, where he’s part of a club Dead Poets Society (which upon hearing this, I literally thought “Hey, they said the title!”) that isn’t listed in the clubs. So they ask Mr. Keating, who tells them how it was a club where a group of boys read poems, maybe make poems and all the beauty of it. And then they do it. They recreate the Dead Poets Society.
It’s an absolutely wonderful and beautiful movie. It’s so thought-provoking that it makes you wonder all that you have done in your life and whether if you have lived at all. Carpe Diem, Carpe Diem, something that should echo deep within our hearts to do action, instead of just thinking about it. I love the passion for writing, for expressing in this movie because I think it’s so important to me to keep passion alive. It’s so important to feel things and to let it out. It made me think of how there are walls that are so strong they don’t make cracks when you kick them with all your might. But take down the walls, always take down the walls. Whatever happens. There will always be people who wouldn’t allow us to dream, who wouldn’t let us hope but what is life without ideas? Without laughter? If all we had were rules and walls and no’s, how can we move forward? How can we live, if there is nothing that makes you take another step? There is no beauty, no reward in being pushed, being forced.
We are all such different people with different dreams and different abilities and life would be so good if we do what we do best, if we are allowed to do what makes us smile. Don’t go for dullness, go for whatever sweeps you off your feet. Go for whatever it is that makes you feel because to feel, darling, is to be alive. And this movie awoke my sleeping soul. It made me feel. I cried when I watched this movie and it says a lot because I don’t cry a lot. This movie is beautiful, wonderful. Absolutely inspiring.
I watched August Rush, which I also loved, before Dead Poets Society and Robin Williams was also there but he was a very unlikable character that I wanted to strangle. In DPS, it was surprising that I liked him, even when I knew of his character in August Rush.
Carpe Diem. One day, I would want to be like Mr. Keating. We need more people like him in this world. We need hope and happiness and passion. We need it so dearly.
So long this land has been barren,
forced to the death with raging fires that
push down any sight of life, choking out
the trees and turning flowers into
ashes , floating amidst pollen
during spring.
.
I am a blind man, unable to live.
The world is black the world is black
the world is black, and death lives with
me and hell is within me. I cannot see
life. I am forced to not see the beauty of life
but I can hear the songs that nature sings
and the chatter of voices in sidewalks and
the barking of dogs in their owners’ houses.
I am in my barren land surrounded by life, by trees
yet none lives in my land. They cannot
live in my land. I wish for life but he
knows only to kill.
I am not supposed to see but he cannot
stop me from feeling.
.
I write unending in papers as tears slip down
my cheeks and I cannot see the blotches
my tears made in inked paper but I can feel
my sadness in the ruined paper. I cannot
drink words like wine in golden goblets. I cannot
dream, I cannot create. Rain patters on windows,
knocking, knocking. I am sorry but he does not
allow passion to let in like he doesn’t with
the rain.
.
I am dying, I am dying. This isn’t life
if there is no passion, if there is nothing
to feel. It is not life if I live doing nothing,
following prison. I am a bird itching
to fly. I am near bursting. When I will,
the stars would twinkle, the rain pours in,
flowers bloom,
so many words so many thoughts
so much vitality to drink they drip from my mouth.
When I will burst, birds will soar from my skeleton
and the feathers of their wings will drop
with desperate poetry.
I assure you, I will burst, and I will raise
my golden bottomless goblet, singing
to life.
I will sing to life, I will write to life, I will
live to feel life.
The flowers have always
lived within me, coming
out only when I let them.
.
It is then I feel soft petals in my hand
and I reach out and feel flowers
blooming and I can see I can see
I can see again and tears spring into
my eyes and he has not seen them
yet I must hide the flowers I must hide
them from him
but a boot squashes down the flowers
and I cry out I try to save them
but he holds me too tightly
forces me his way and
I want to yell I cannot be
dead anymore.
.
“I made a great many sacrifices to
get you here,”
he says, his voice sounding
like a razor blade to the wrists.
.
Clouds come overhead, raindrops
fall like little tears, like feathers of birds
filled with poetry. Flowers grow around us, catching
teardrops, catching dreams, catching feelings,
and this was land barren by his hand
but it will thrive again under my care.
He looks around us, at the garden
that grew, looking with fear while I with
wonder.
He does not understand the
beauty of choices and chances.
He does not know how to live.
.
Funny, I say,
you took the words right out
of my mouth.
I have sacrificed a great many things
to get here but I have realized
I had given the wrong things.
Funny, you think that, I say
as raindrops gather in my boots, welcoming
rain like I do with guests.
I run away from him, the oppressor
and I run to a place where
golden goblets are raised, feeling
the soft petals of flowers grazing my skin,
knowing they would follow me
wherever I go.
