Sometimes, it's hard

It's hard to wake up in the morning. It's hard to force my body out of bed and keep my engine running the whole day because sometimes, it just gets so damn hard to think and keep up with everyone. It hurts to talk, it hurts to think, it hurts to smile... I mean, I never thought I'd get to that point, where even my smiles could be used against me. God, it hurts to even breathe.

And Gian wonders why I'm always so morose, as he puts it.

Everyone has their own motivation. Everyone's got that force pushing them forward when they need to rest and want to lag behind, or pulling them along when they get lazy. Lately, I feel like I haven't got enough of that force on my back, or around my wrists.

Maybe I just need someone or something to fall back on. I just feel like I've lost a lot last year, and I'm hoping this year pulls itself together for me, because I seriously don't think I could deal with it if my life fell apart any more.

And no, this isn't me angsting it out. This is me trying to actually assess what's wrong and how I can fix it, if I can at all.


Hmm... I hope summer works out better than this year. It's been a year of changes, and that's hurt me a lot. I've lined up a whole bunch of activities this summer to keep me busy, and maybe get out there and meet some people so that I won't be so tied down.

Maybe sitting sleepy has worked before, but it's killing me right now.


I really wanna go to Canada. I actually pretty much envy those people that got to go there. I had originally just wanted to get out of here because there really wasn't a lot going for me a few years back (3 i think). Just a lame, day-to-day thing for me. Then I got the barkada together and it was something fresh and different and I just wanted to get in there and live it up with them, and who knew? Maybe I'd formed the kada that could stay together through it all.

Now that a lot of the stuff that's kept me wanting to be here has disintegrated, I haven't really got a lot to stick around for.

And so, for the first time in what's been ages, I'm going to say it out loud: I am going to Canada. I used to just need it--well now it's a decision.
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Mr. Hernando came into class yesterday and in the first few minutes had chastised us on this certain blogger on Tabulas (yes, TABULAS, so I'm out of the question) that apparently slammed him. Well, I can't say I'm sorry for the guy.
Honestly, Mr. Hernando is a good person, I'm sure of that, but I am positive that he is not the right teacher for our class.

Mr. Hernando was first reprimanding us, and then all of a sudden, it became something of a contest about who was better than who. We were just High School Kids, and he had an Ateneo diploma, so he was better than us. We were spoiled rich brats and he was this street-smart whatever, so he was better than us. I understand where he's coming from, but the lengths he went through to press his point, and the things he said just lowered my opinion of him much, much more.

And there's that business with Fr. Guy that seems to be making a comeback with Mr. Hernando. He was over-generalizing us again. I have never, in my life, laughed at his accent. Ever. How dare he assume that because of ONE person's blog, the other THIRTY SIX are like that as well? How can he assume we have the same sentiments? It's not fair of him to do that.

So it's a pride issue, and an attitude issue.

Fr. Guy asked us to 'give him a chance'. We did. A whole quarter's worth of chances. I'm sure now, thank you very much. He's not the right teacher for us--Fr. Guibelondo is.

I need to talk to Fr. Guy about this.
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I've been having a lot of revelations lately. But then again, I've also been forgetting them. Often.

You see, when I have a revelation or sudden stroke of inspiration, it's usually at extremely inopportune moments (like examen, or during a very hard Filipino test). Then I say I'll write it down later, and then completely forget to do so--heck, I even forget that I even had a revelation!

I suppose it's God's way of telling me that those revelations are really only to be cherished in the moment. Thing is, I really wanna share them with you devoted (HAH!) readers (double HAH!) of my blog.

That's another thing. I've been attributing a lot of things to God lately. Everything that happens to me, I'm somehow able to automatically trust that He has a plan for me (and even though I can't remember how right now, it was actually proven that there is a reason for the things that happen to me). I feel like I've really gotten closer to God (wherever he is, and however "being close" to God feels like) over the past few months. I'm definitely much more faithful than I was last year.

And can you believe, I've actually started praying at night, just before I go to sleep. It's not something I do rigidly--usually when I remember to (that's quite often). What's so amazing about that? You might ask. I mean, hey, loads of people pray before they go to sleep.

Well, you see, it's special and amazing to me, because praying before I go to sleep is something I have never done before these past several times. Not even as a child.

And the things I pray for are so much... better. I always pray for mom and dad, and their happiness (whatever that may mean for them, because it seems to be in such short supply these past few years), whereas before, I prayed quite a lot for them to understand me. Well, those prayers of mine were never answered, but suddenly, having them understand me doesn't seem as important as making an effort to understand them.

Although, that's not to say that I would never want them to understand me. In fact, just a while ago, while listening to Mr. Chua's lecture and his oh-so-...explosive demonstration (haha, Panopio), I was thinking back to those days when I'd beg mom "Please, ma, just listen to me." and that look she'd have on her face that completely rejected me. I felt so frustrated that I couldn't get her to listen to me. It hurt. A lot, actually.

I guess all things do come to those who wait, because now, she's the one begging me to open up to her, and it feels good to make her feel what she made me feel back then, and not feel a grain of guilt when she gets frustrated at me for being impatient, or taciturn with her. You really have to walk a mile in someone else's shoes before you can understand them. Or rather, you really have to make someone walk a mile in your shoes before they will learn.




Well, I think I've ranted enough for today. Good day, folks!

I'm still waiting.