Theologically speaking, at least, concupiscence refers to an expressed confusion. A very weak will, if you'd want it that way. Nevertheless, in such a state, we'd not be able to make decisions, and instead spend our lives hesitating and hesitating. Just now I looked the word up
and realized it had a more worldly meaning, to say the least. Quite obviously I hesitated.
In recent days, though, if I've been talking about her to the handful of people still present to be needlessly pushed with whatever's up with it, it's on a rather different note. True enough, things have started to feel rather different - disregarding the cold, which I'd immediately compare to my Baguio vacation - and yet, you can't just take everything off and speak impulsively of stuff. It's not as easy as saying I'm over her
or something similar. Of course, the lesson I've learned from quite a long time ago is, don't declare things quickly
, and only because you'll be proven wrong at one point. I guess it's better to be as safe as, say, the opposition's senatorial line-up.
And true enough, I've been spending endless hours aimlessly walking again, actually hoping to chance to see people to while the time with, and for once they don't just act as mere distractions to the issues at hand. Well, maybe I hugged Clarence
for too long yesterday when we met, and probably because after all of the perceived battering I thought I obviously got, I think I deserve some encouragement. And although most of the people whom I spend time with don't have any column inch of an idea about what it is - unless they've already read through my eyes and saw everything - I don't know. It's certainly something short of magical.
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I apparently had a terrible reputation back in SBCA. Well, that's already a given, considering my three month stay there wasn't all good, and people decided to bully me at first glance. (If I ever had friends there remains doubtful up to this point.) I remember this story during our first LPEP day, when Isah
saw me and realized I was her blockmate. I can't vouch if this is true, but it is said that she was surprised and scared, precisely because I was her blockmate. Although I don't know whether that affected anything - if it did, then hell, she did a good job of hiding it because it wasn't any obvious - it certainly turned out much differently.
To be honest, as if I haven't mentioned this before, I was also scared upon realizing I have blockmates from SBCA. Two of them, even. Throughout my years in Anima I had this image of my past school as one which, if we're to use current lingo, "harbors" bullies and does nothing about it, which is technically hypocrisy because they have an air-quoted anti-bullying policy. And up to now I still keep that image, although I'd be open for some exceptions. Nevertheless the word "poser" keeps on propping up.
Impressions do last, to the extent that it'd actually affect how you see things. Of course, the consequent observation is that it won't always hold true: eventually we'd change perspectives, or whenever we get to know someone deeper our opinions would change. What rarely happens, though, is what happens the moment you get to compare both impressions and realize they're entirely different. And, it becomes much more complicated when you realize they run at the same time.
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I hate coincidences. If I call it one, I'd eventually realize it is more of a conspiracy. It's as if I've foreseen what's going to happen, and when I forget about it - dismissing it as semantic trash or something - it does come true. Or maybe I do too much thinking to eventually end up getting very bothered about it, and maybe lose sleep even in the coldest of temperatures.
But if today was any indicator, it's as if it is meant to happen. My horoscope was making a fuss out of another epiphany - that word, I actually strayed away from simply because I've had too much of it and I won't want another one that I'm not exactly willing to take. If I didn't remember so much I'd probably be happier or something, simply because I didn't have to mind much more - pressure myself, maybe, and that's all it takes to get there.
And self-imposed obligations get in the way, but being human we all want to be good to other people, admittedly expecting something to be given back. It's unfair to think it won't happen; that, in itself, is already unfair. The same goes with attaching tags to something that remains unsure, and yet that's what I am doing right now. I'm merely the culprit behind my own crusade.
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Since then I've told thirteen people about it, more or less. Maybe, thirteen people by name, and a few dozen more by sensible cover-ups, as if it matters.
The term has finally settled in, for some particular reason, and although there obviously is no reason to feel easy because it's going to get harder. For one, I spent money and energy running up and down, trying to make my concept paper right, and it led to an overhaul of what I wanted to happen, and consequently, how many people I'll have to deal with as director. As if I wasn't tired enough. I really want to sleep, but I still feel like waking up.
Weirdly, during the past week I'm torn between sleeping and staying up. It's as if every time I sleep I don't feel sleepy, but when I wake up I feel the opposite. Not that my environment has been less noisy lately - although Ariane
had a lot of free time figuring that out - but something certainly is weird. It's as if, for once, I am losing motivation, slowly draining me to no good.
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It's as if it was (coincidentally) done on cue. The conversation was already swinging.
Hrm. Sort of in between, I should say. I mean, you see someone you really like and don't get excited. And then you don't see the same person and don't feel anything either. But there'd be times when you get excited (or depressed) when you either see her or not.
Five minutes later, something appeared on the window quite ceremoniously. Monica Alcoseba has signed out.
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had this pretty interesting observation at U-Break today.
Sure, we won't deny that Cynthia Alexander and Noel Cabangon aren't exactly mainstream celebrities, but they do have a following. Judging by the people who came to watch them today - and judging from the people who flocked both artists after their respective performances for photos and autographs - me included, thanks to David
- there'd still be a lot of people. But there just wasn't a lot of them - at least those that we knew.
And indeed, it is the case. Not merely because all of us are out and about doing stuff - while billeted at the steps nearing the museum, the others were still doing their "little Lumiére actualités
", as Les
puts it, and dragging us into starring in them - but probably because, well, this term just feels plainly different. As if it felt like nobody cares anymore whether we are there or not - it just depends on the timing. Everything's timing.
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This fact out of my way: after four months, my phone got stolen, eventually. After Mafe's prediction during Jenn
's debut, complete with that what-I-say-usually-comes-true warning, it did. And look at the signs - Jackie
, Kris and I talking about thefts the morning before, the two guys who seemed to be poised to do just that on the jeepney ride home the night after - and then, this.
But it isn't really a big deal, so suddenly. Although obviously there's the wrath of my parents who'd ask me about how it really happened (and how stupid slash inattentive I am), the fact that I merely won the phone eases a lot of stress on my part. I think the others are mourning more for the loss than I am - Derek and Lau, among others - but, for my part, I'm only regretting missing out on a two-megapixel camera, a voice recorder, an FM radio and a calendar function, just when I needed it the most. So, count one more for the club - as Mirielle bluntly put it, it has become a "social issue" as she also lost her phone (admittedly out of stupidity) this morning, and Zay lost hers a week back.
So maybe that's why Charmaine
and Trixia were surprised that I made a quick "recovery", as I was already asking people around for phone numbers on a thicker notebook. I had somewhat enough time, considering that I only had photography class for the day, and had only for myself a bag, the camera I'm to borrow, and my aesthetic senses. My right leg was strained from all the running I did from the scene of the crime to the campus - well, not all the way - and I pretty much wanted to get over doing things. I still have the explanation I owe my parents, mind you.
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And if it wouldn't get any weirder, today was the day I had more apparitions than ever before. And today was the day when all those apparitions meant nothing but silence, and everything get ruptured.
Maybe I'm just sleepy again, but let's admit it, I've not been my usual self lately. Well, you'll never notice that simply because you only think that all there is to me is my hyperactive, talkative, touchy self. But despite the photos, the returned calculator, the reserved camera and the restive concepts, I know I'm not myself lately.
I mean, come to think of it. It's probably not the idle time, nor the surprise number of video cameras I've seen today. It's not my lunch, or my snack, or the bus ride home. It's not the questions thrown, or the coincidences, or the far-away seatmates, or community service, or anything.
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If anything, my sixth first week went by. Indeed, it's weird to have all my floating subjects on three days a week, a three-hour class each on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and a long break in between spent doing nothing but trying to think about what else to do. To be honest I only stepped in an Internet café, out of desperation, once, and only because my classes are long over, Ariane
delayed her video shoot, and Ranice
wasn't coming by to give the calculator back.
Yet I can't help but have itchy feet. After a term of getting dumped with requirements from the very first day, the start to this term feels very weird. However it's still very evident that everyone I know are up to something; just today a few surprises have been pulled out, one way or another. For one, our bulletin board suddenly changed, and the next thing I know the decorations made out of crepe paper that Yas and I worked on two terms ago are now gone, replaced by another tarpauline image.
And I wonder how it is to juggle things around. Indeed I was having itchy feet over nothing, but it is a well-known fact that almost everybody I know are busier than I am. And surely they've started, and are probably having enough problems about juggling recommended extra-curriculars and much-needed majors to the point that they're not mentioning it because it's all too obvious. At one point, for example, I wondered how our representatives do it; now that it's all stagnant, (which isn't surprising since it's barely the first week) and with one suddenly up to something else, it's gone very obvious. Majors have indeed started to take a toll.
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Eventually I'll find myself running miniscule distances just to kill the time, probably just to escape what's apparently unescapeable. I'll notice a detail, get away from it, and maybe when I start to breathe heavily I'll realize it isn't exactly worth the effort.
Eventually I'll fear the small talk, even if it actually makes me happy, and whenever it happens I'll probably make a big fuss out of it. Maybe I'd fumble my conversations and fear not making sense, and not make sense precisely because of that. Or maybe I'd make too big a celebration out of nothing.
Eventually I'll brew animosity when everything seems lost, only to realize that the anger I'm letting in my system isn't any fair to everybody involved. I'd be angry at everyone only because it's one's seeming, err, lack of concern.
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For a moment, out of sheer coincidence, I felt like walking alone at SM
Southmall. Actually, I was with Les
, and if to make things a bit more surprising Mae and Arlene were on the same bus where we were. And, in the spirit of good conversations, Mae suddenly wondered about my mere presence. Well, she has a point, for I usually go out of the bus at Moonwalk, with is about five to fifteen minutes back, depending on the traffic. Since today is my birthday, I'm going to ATC for the usual birthday fancy dinner, so that suddenly was my route.
They've constantly asked about my birthday. I mean, probably the fact that I'm just seventeen - or was
just seventeen - got surprises from them, such as that the questions would go from my year of birth to the date itself. And really, I don't expect anyone to remember that date, unless in passing probably, or something.
Somewhere near the stairs to the front entrance, almost after the moment I felt out of place because of coincidence, Mae had this short tongue-in-cheek scream before giving me her greeting. Les didn't really need to give hers again - she's given me three in the past two days. But Arlene - now that was a surprise.
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But really, I love Steph
. Or maybe, I love talking
to Steph. Or maybe it's me desperate for a conversation, which was probably why I actually decided to stay with her despite the fact that I live far away, and we were out of radio production
class an hour early because we've finished our concept papers for our PSAs. I entered the classroom feeling terrible for no apparent reason, and I got out somewhat weirdly attached to her bangs, and we found ourselves walking out of campus and to U-Mall, for apparently nothing and everything.
So, what do you expect? Of course there was the off-topic phrase in between window shopping, actual shopping, and sitting in threatening benches. I was coerced in divulging the occasional secret, and she was coerced in mentioning details I wouldn't otherwise know (or believe for that matter). And, surprisingly, I did spend the next hour with her, as if we were on a date that didn't matter, as I myself put it.
Funnily enough, Steph had to do some catching up. It was hard talking to her about a few things, simply because the last thing she probably heard about me was that I have a crush on Ale
, which to be quite serious is a year and a half ago. She did hear about Kizia
, but she wasn't sure until I told her just tonight. If to make things a little bit controversial, Kizia and Sam did pass by, and after the customary greetings I asked Steph some little weird detail. Whatever that is, I forgot.
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So classes start tomorrow. Another fifteen weeks or so of sheer business that'd eventually be sprinkled with everything not involved with academics. It comes around among AB-CAM students quite popularly, that the "hardships" we've been through the last term is the easiest things can get.
And, in my case, it's composed of photography, production and voice modulation. Oh, and statistics.
One thing that's different from the last terms is, simply said, the nervous breakdowns (or what amounts to it) that I have aren't showing up. Or maybe I'm distracted at things like, say, new breakfast shows to wake up to, or the prospect of things botching up as they usually do. I'm not expecting anything spectacular, and yes, I am still surprised that I performed quite well last term. (Not to mention I actually miscalculated my GPA for last term. Turns out I'm still in the first honors dean's list.) And indeed, we were sort of numbed by everything that's happened last term - I know it was the case for one of us, inclusive of a thirty-minute phone conversation - which means anything that's thrown at us is nothing but a minor upgrade.
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"I'm not so hard to find," Issa
texted back a day after Christmas. It was the night when we serendipitously found ourselves going to the same chilly mountains of Baguio for vacation. And, as if it was on cue, I got weirdly excited, probably because something like it never happened before, but also because it turned out to be someone I was, somehow, intent to meet.
So every precaution was put in place. We'll see each other, if ever. Baguio is mountainous, obviously, and being a tourist city, people would end up going to the same places. There are the horses at Wright Park, the swan boats at Burnham Park, or the knitted bags at the stalls at Mine's View Park. And that was the exact point I made: Baguio is big, mountainous, and to make things more complicated, full of zigzag roads. How the heck will I see her, if it is even meant to happen?
"Kulay kalawang buhok ko,
" she said in the same message, before letting out a laugh.
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