Brutality of the Goddess

it’s 12.30 in the morning.  i don’t usually stay up this late but i can’t seem to lull myself to sleep.  not when i have so many things to worry about.  not when there are still ten section of article 3 of the Philippine Consititution to cram into my battered mind.

two days later and fragments of what had happened during the talumpati ng taon still lie in waste in the bowels of my mind.  that was my first time to host in a language that i consider more foreign than english.  that was perhaps one of the few hosting experiences i’ll never forget partly because i had so little to say, partly because first times are always hard to forget.  to stand in front of a huge crowd with hundreds of pairs of eyes staring back at you amidst the incessant glare of the spotlight can be damning.  and i still feel damned.  and a bit embarrassed.  but it was fun to wear a filipiniana.  i should have asked my mom to get me a new one from kultura

four days ago, was one of the most interesting days of my life.  it seemed almost like an offshoot from a badly written cartoon.  i had a pile of things to accomplish for miss silliman and moutnains more for my bc25 class.  it was the day that i had been dreading since the time i took up the course.  it was the day that i had to pass my first set of requirements: 20 notecards stapled to photocopied sources.  i dropped by steds and grabbed a long-sized manila envelope, slipped it between my arm and my side and dashed off towards the arts and sciences building.  my room was four floors away and i was heavily burdened with two bags, a maong jacket, and an umbrella.  just as i stepped into the highest flor int he building, i noticed that one of my shoe laces was left untied.  settling my things down, i took my manila envelope and placed it hastily on top of the ledge before bending down to fix my shoes lace.  just as i got up, a gust of wind blew away my manila envelope.  it drifted off, away from my reach and onto the small outcropping close to where the pillar stood.  i took my umbrella and reached for the envelope, poking it towards me and hoping against hope that i’d be able to get my hands on the blasted thing.  alas, my efforts were useless and i was left without a choice but to push the envelope off the outcropping and pick it up downstairs.  the envelope drifted downwards.  i leaned over the ledge to see where it settle only to find out that it landed in the hands of some burly-haired passer-by who must have been in need of it for one of his classes.  i was broken hearted.  i had to dash back down and run towards steds to get another envelope.

that’s life, i guess.  quite unexpected, frustrating at times, strange, and interesting.  nothing beats playing the lead role in the stories that we weave.

it’s 12.45 and i’m still not sleepy.  maybe another round of  fine arts music would do the trick.  in the mean time, it’s back to article three, the bill of rights: one right i’d like to exercise at this very moment is the right to sleep.

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