I cannot believe it has been 5 years. God, I missed this.
Too much has happened, and I mean too much. And quite frankly, I missed that time when too much evolved into nothing. And so this is where I am now — point null, zero, the empty space in which rational and irrational meet.
So, today I’m trying to finish my thesis RRL. Initially my deadline was tomorrow but I guess the universe refuses that I finish it soon, so I moved it to thursday. haha Basta hopefully before the break I could pass my RRL + Phase 1 R&D. Malay natin baka bored si Ma’am di ba :))
Anyway, as I was in the middle of hoarding all related journals to my thesis topic from Science Direct c/o the CHE lib, bigland nagtweet si Mela, 88 pesos basefare ng lahat ng domestic flights ng CebuPac. So bilang ako ay scientist at curious, I checked it out. And spent 2 hours reserving flights for Cebu and Beijing. HAHAHA SORRY NA OKAY.
When I was done doing so, I took 4 books out for overnight use and headed to the main lib. Kasi there’s this one reference material I need that’s here + I could stay here up to 9pm :)
Anyway, mi MBP ran out of batt na rin, so I had to charge. Eh di ba the outlets here are the ones in the middle lang. I found one available sa last table. In return, look what found me:
Well, there is still after all, 5 hours to 9pm. Not to mention 2 days to thursday. HAHAHAHA SORRYYYYY!
Oh, I almost forgot. Another reason why I’ve been so negligent here is that, I have a new blog. It’s poignant and pathetic and icky and well, it’s for you.
…because I guess it’s time to admit it to myself how much I quietly and achingly like you. All the words I write at the back of my notebook, all the songs I play in my iPad, all the lines I highlight in my favorite novels, all the fortunes in cookies, the stars in the sky, the songs on repeat, the coins on fountains and wishes during 11:11, these letters — they’re all for you.
You, who leave me speechless, lacking in adjectives, morphemes, lexemes — whatever those you mean. You, who make everyday bearable amidst the routine I’m slightly growing tired of. You, who make all my creative juices for fiction work. You, who make me disregard the rules of syntax and grammar just so I can put into words the feelings I couldn’t repress coming alive during times of idleness as you occupy my mind alone.
You and only you.
You, who might, sorta, kinda, like me too.
How charot. hahaha I’ll publish it next year orrr hrm haha
Her proposal had nonetheless felt like swinging wildly at a ball, watching it sail high into the air, then moments later hearing the sound of breaking glass.
Again, she could not help but wonder if everything falls under a great scheme of things. “Am I a mere pawn in some higher being’s chess game?” as she would repeatedly ask herself. The uncertainty is often frustrating. Sure, there are signs, but more often than not, they confuse rather than confirm. “Are these sudden accidental fortuities telling me something I already know or something I refuse to hear?” It is difficult to not disintegrate every little bit of detail when practically the whole world is scrutinizing everything for her.
A part of her wishes to let go — is learning to let go. Because she knows that only when over-thinking is brought to a halt — on the affectation of actually just letting things be — only would realization truly come.
She has no idea what she’s doing, and she is unsure of how the end turns out. Yet the bigger part of her would like to believe one day, all these is going to make sense. So there she stood, welcoming mistakes over certainty — “I will rather go through this than run away again.”
“Why do you read so much?”
Tyrion looked up at the sound of the voice. Jon Snow was standing a few feet away, regarding him curiously. He closed the book on a finger and said, “Look at me and tell me what you see.”
The boy looked at him suspiciously. “Is this some kind of trick? I see you. Tyrion Lannister.”
Tyrion sighed. “You are remarkably polite for a bastard, Snow. What you see is a dwarf. You are what, twelve?”
“Fourteen,” the boy said.
“Fourteen, and you’re taller than I will ever be. My legs are short and twisted, and I walk with difficulty. I require a special saddle to keep from falling off my horse. A saddle of my own design, you may be interested to know. It was either that or ride a pony. My arms are strong enough, but again, too short. I will never make a swordsman. Had I been born a peasant, they might have left me out to die, or sold me to some slaver’s grotesquerie. Alas, I was born a Lannister of Casterly Rock, and the grotesqueries are all the poorer. Things are expected of me. My father was the hand of the King for twenty years. My brother later killed the very same king, as it turns out, but life is full of these little ironies. My sister married the new king and my repulsive nephew will be king after him. I must do my part for the honorof my House, wouldn’t you agree? Yet how? Well, my legs may be too small for my body, but my head is too large, although I prefer to think it is just large enough for my mind. I have a realistic grasp of my own strengths and weaknesses. My mind is my weapon. My brother has his sword, King Robert has his warhammer, and I have my mind… and a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge.” Tyrion tapped the leather cover of the book. “That’s why I read so much, Jon Snow.”
An excerpt from A Game of Thrones.
I’ve been rereading. I finished ASOIAF up to A Clash of Kings, but then Yvonne sent me the whole e-book series so it felt only right to re-read back from book 1 just because. The physical entity of the novel may be different, but the plot is the same, yet somehow the entire novel hit me in completely different places.
Back reading, always a delight.