Monthly Archives: August 2011



Basing on how things are going, I think I’m finally walking towards the right path, that I’m at the right place, where I’m supposed to be.

Before, I used to be unmotivated to do things but now that I’ve stepped out of that and decided that I should try out something that I think I love more, I’m more than motivated and determined to do stuff. I love Math (I think I still do but maybe not as much) but I don’t think it was up to that extent, where I’d push through studying it and working in a field related to it. I guess I was lured by how others were doing fine with it that I began to think that it was the way for me, too. But apparently, it wasn’t.

Honestly, I was really scared to make the decision to change courses because I’d dread the possibility of failing at it again. If that would happen, where would I end up? Luckily, I took the chance. It was a great thing I did. Now, I’m happier and more content. I could actually see myself coding programs and other things related to what I’m taking right now. Things are becoming clearer as the days go by. It’s not like before, where I’d give up answering different Math problem sets after a few difficult items. Now, I couldn’t stop thinking about ways to correct/debug errors in my programs. It won’t stop bugging me until I finally get it right.

I know it’s still easy now since I’m just starting with the basics but I believe I’m now ready to take on harder subjects next sem. I won’t back down from this one. Promise.


Then, repeat


The thing about having your dad work far away from you (a.k.a. he only gets to stay with us for only 4 months and the rest, he’s at work; he’s a seaman) is that you think you’re already used to it but, when you think about it, you’re not.

Since I’ve lived with this kind of system ever since I was a kid, it somehow felt normal to me. We’d talk to our dad through the phone (and sometimes, letters, when they were still widely used), pick him up from the airport, spend time with him, and then send him back again after his stay’s over. At first, there’s that certain awkwardness, the kind where you can’t be that comfortable at your own house because you feel that there’s a guest staying at your house but then it gets better as the days pass.

I don’t know. Even though I know this is good for our family, I sometimes wish things were different. Strange. I can’t even remember when we last had Christmas together, as a complete family.

Meanwhile, in the real world…


It’s raining now. Quite heavy, actually. I wonder if there’s another storm that just entered the country. It’s been a few weeks since classes were really messed up because the weather was really bad (to the celebration of the students, including me) so I’m not sure if this would go on until it’d be enough reason to cancel/suspend classes. But I doubt it.

Wish I could have/decorate my bed like this. Maybe it would make me sleep earlier.

My laptop says it’s already 4:03am. I have a class later at 8:30am yet, I’m still awake. Strangely, I still don’t feel the need to sleep. It’s been like this for weeks already, I think I’ve developed having insomnia ever since college (although, I’ve “loved” staying up really late ever since grade school or high school–it show’s in my height).

I don’t know why I’m posting here. Maybe it’s just for the sake of having something to post. I’ve been meaning to post something these past few days but I just couldn’t find the need to do it. Now that I’m actually making a new post, those ideas don’t seem that appealing to me anymore. This happens to me sometimes.

Maybe they’re throwing tantrums because I didn’t really exert an effort in actually writing them down, I just let them remain in my head where there’s a chance they might be forgotten (like, maybe, now). I’m sorry.

I don’t think I’m making sense anymore. Will end here.

Here’s to hoping I wake up in time for class. 🙂

On the Event of My Death


On the event of my death,
I do not want you to mourn for me.
You can shed a few tears
but don’t overdo it.
Your eyes are meant for seeing,
not for where lonely tears
make their exit.

Although some may insist
on either black or white,
please wear something blue or red.
These are my favorite colors.
Besides, the mood is already gloomy.
It is just right to add some color to the occasion.

By all means, you can laugh all you want.
I would not take it as an offense.
Aside from the songs in my playlist,
one of my favorite sounds
is a person’s laughter,
Sobs & cries, the opposite.

You can apply some make-up on me
And dress me up if you want.
Just make sure that I don’t look
that fat.
I’m too much of a self-conscious person
so it’s somehow important for me
to look good.
I’d like to leave a good impression,
you see.

When you are about to lower
my casket to the ground,
release tons of balloons along with
the heaviness in your heart.

Dying is a part of life,
of God’s master plan.
I am just going on a trip.
Only, I think it would still take
a long time until we can see
each other again.

Until then, I shall watch over you,
in my seat made of clouds (remember
we used to gaze at them when we were kids?)
eagerly waiting for when
we could meet up again,
have coffee with the angels (and maybe God)
and talk like this was just
another Sunday afternoon.



Finally decided to write something here after a very long time.

Isn’t it sad how you can’t find the time to do the thing you really want, even if it’s something you’re passionate about (or at least you think so, hope so). I feel like this is a failure on my part. As cliche as it may sound, there’s too much to do yet, so little time. I don’t know which ones to do first, which ones to set aside for later, or which ones to forego.

Making decisions has always been, I think, hard for me to do. Maybe because I want everything at the same time. Or, sometimes, I’d want nothing. I dunno. Confusion and second-guess aren’t strangers to me anymore.

And besides, my mind always wanders. It always goes off to somewhere else, thinks of new things even before I’m done thinking about the other thing.

I’m rambling now. Rambling is a bad sign, since it defeats the purpose, the goal, of making sense and I don’t think I’m making one.

I should stop here. And hope that I’ll come back and do more posts.

Writing is therapeutic, I realized.