Tag: experience

Memories of a High Schooler

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In a couple of weeks, 2016 is almost over. Today seemed like a great time to look back into some of the memories of my younger years.

Nerdy yet Fun High School

There weren’t much to do when I was in my teens. I was the typical girl who went to school, studied her lessons, followed the rules, and stayed at home. I was only an active, playful, young girl in my elementary days. So, I tried to find some interesting activities when I was in high school. This was the period when I met a lot of friends who gave color to my usually predictable days.

For four years, I was with a group of friends who were all brilliant, funny, clever, and unique in their own ways. We shared a lot of time reading books, sharing stories, finishing group assignments, answering exams, and presenting skits/reports in front of the class. Those memories helped build lasting relationships and opened opportunities to learn about our own personalities.  Even though everyone looked nerdy and grade conscious (being in the top section), we still knew how to enjoy a break. Some of the activities in the years we stayed in the school (2005-2009) were simple yet fun and interesting *but, I think many would not be able to relate with this now* 😛

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Random Reflection of a Busy Panda Bear

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Love and Everything in Between– A possibly eye-catching title for a blog post. More clicks, more chances of having new readers, but those don’t matter. This is a random bit of my thoughts to kill the time while waiting for my next class. So, if anyone is interested in reading through this, better have a lot of patience to bring along.

For a couple of weeks, I have been bombarded with too many love posts, heartbreak stories, hugot lines, sudden phone calls from a friend crying over a guy, and many other love-related incidents. This year sure has a lot of the thump-thump of a beating lovebird heart spectacle more than over the last two decades of my life. Maybe it’s because I haven’t been too familiar with the topic when I was younger or that my social circle has simply been exposed to too many sweets, sugary words, and an illusion of romantic circus of a media-centered community.

Love

What is love?

There are seven billion people around the world, including you and me. Put the numbers aside, find a common multiple and bring those together. You’ll get over 3.5 billion pairs regardless of age, gender, race, and many other social standards or classifications.

Many of those pairs live and die without knowing each other. That means whoever you got paired with (in that imaginary computation I did) may never see you or even hear a word about your existence. So, how does this define love? It doesn’t, sort of. I simply want to waste some words and spaces to let me move to the next topic. Please bear with me.

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Startled

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With the lack of time, my mind can’t seem to function.
Will the heart to write be enough to make things right?
Stupidity is my ever failure and friend
But is it enough to give myself the identity I dread?

Writing lines is not enough
Especially when you do not have the time
Wish I could have the chance
To witness the strength I never had

Another old poem I saved in my google drive

Being YOUNG

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I am young but too old for games.

I am young but my habits are too old for my friends.

I am young but my eyes are blinded by experiences.

I am young but my thoughts are cluttered.

I am young but I am too sad.

I am young but I am alone.

I am young but for me my friends act like children.

I am young but I am not free.

I am young but I am not too innocent anymore.

Cynthia

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Alas-kuwatro ng umaga, gigising na naman

Pipiliting ibuka ang kanyang mga mata,

Ngunit sumabay na lamang ang pagbuhos ng luha.

Pinunasan. Bumangon na sa kama.

May bahid ng pagkatulala at namamanhid ang mga paa,

Dumiretso sa banyo upang maghilamos ng mukha.

Sa salamin nakita niya ang kanyang ginawa,

Tatlong araw na nagmukmok at lumuha.

Lubog na tuloy ang kanyang mapupungay na mata,

At ngayon nangingilid ang itim na mga marka.

Puno ng parusa, ngumiti pa rin siya.

Bukas ay mawala na sana ang lahat ng nakita.

Siya si Cynthia, may mapupungay na mga mata.

Maaliwalas ang kanyang mukha noong siya’y bata,

Pero ngayon siya’y nagmistulang buhay na kaluluwa,

Naglalakbay sa mundong hindi niya kilala.

Help

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Alex walks down the street
Slowly but her heart beats fast
Almost out of breath in her lungs
She stops and holds her mouth

One.
Inhale.

One. Two.
Exhale.

One.
Inhale.

One. Two.
Exhale.

Her hands drop to grab her neck
She’s scratching something out
Gasping for more, more air
She runs towards nowhere

The streets are empty and damp
Her shoes are covered with mud
She stumbled to the ground
Tries to pull herself up. Up!

Her body feels cold
She faces the stars

While inhaling and exhaling…

Empty breaths

A tear falls down her eye

Her ears turn red
She hears steps
She holds her arms up
Wishing she could shout HELP

Alex thinks she’s saved
She looks up the faces looking at her
It is too late,
They have red swollen eyes

Looking down on her
Her mom closes the cover

Pavement

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Stones and pebbles covered the floor
A few green grass growing in between
There’s a faint smell flowing
Smoky, muddy, sweet, but hard

“Walk!” a low voice shouts behind
Someone bumps a small girl on the right
My feet shake and lose balance
Hit my knee to one rough rock

More heavy steps marching forward
No one gave a second to help
My knee is oozing with red
The sting from the smooth cut across

I hate blood, and its rusty taste
But every now and then shades entices me
Light, pinkish, crimson red all over
In the midst of the full moon bloom

Only the gray and icy ground sees
The wind and the leaves listen
With the dark orange glare from the sun
Our stories are recorded on the pavement

Books for an Old Soul

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Personally, there is a different feeling whenever I flip through pages of books. The new and the old ones, I tend to be more attracted to the latter. The smell of old, thrift shop books are intoxicating, and yes it’s strange but I sniff through some of the pages. It’s just me 😉

Every reader has his/her own style to pick. I think the uniqueness of the writers (and their stories) is also searching for the right, equally distinct reader. It’s like whenever you try to find that perfect spot to spend your night, that’s how you choose your book. Something to comfort or to accompany you through sleepless nights or sweet daydreams.

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A Look Back: The Rhetoricians ♥

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March 23, 2005
University of the Philippines Los Baños

The birth date of The Rhetoricians 🙂

logoToday is the 10th anniversary of the UPLB Speech Communication organization. A place which I considered a family since the day I became I member in 2010.

It is such a wonderful moment to look back to the things I’ve done and learned from this organization. The amazing and somewhat crazy members I’ve met who all brought unimaginable joy and shared memorable experiences with me. This was also the place which helped me hone my skills in writing and speech communication. I even kept some of the souvenirs to remember those times.

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Dreams, Failures, and Everything In Between

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Isn’t it funny that day by day nothing changes, but when you look back everything is different…” – C.S. Lewis

Being in my early twenties is difficult to imagine myself worrying much about the future. This stage in my life seems to be a carefree one. I guess, I never got to that level. Every day there’s more and more of the reflection that I have actually skipped some or jumped from being young to adulthood. There was no teenage life in between. It was a clear cut line from young to adult self. Many of life’s circumstances and challenges made me grow up a lot faster than my peers.

Now, it seems much clearer that it truly was a jump (or maybe the genes).

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