There is a guy who writes you, he does not know how not to.
Life is difficult. This is the truth, one of the greatest truth, in fact. It is a great truth because once you truly see it, you transcend it. Once you know that life is difficult, once you genuinely understand and accept it, then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters. Most of us do not fully see this truth. Instead, we moan more or less incessantly about the enormity of our, and the world’s, problems; our burdens, and our missteps, as if life were generally easy- as if life should be easy. We voice out our stands, noisily or subtly, that our difficulties represent a unique kind of affliction that should not be and that has somehow been especially visited upon us, directly. I know about this kind of ranting because I have done my share
I look back and regret how I ignored when they said “run as fast as you can.”
Sometimes, or rather, oftentimes, life is full of fun surprises and spontaneous adventures; like being invited to the best and worst party at the same time, but you ended up having fun anyway. I’d like to think that a life spent making risks and mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing, being idle. And I’d like to think that red cups at 12 midnight is a sure sign of living a life full of risks on a Saturday. Specially on an evening like this one, February, cold air, in an overcrowded place. Like spring break, this place, with these dopey twenty-year-olds who should be saving up instead of getting wasted, and their rants on their individual problems, and the ‘classy’ girls in some tables, acting ‘classy,’ was overwhelming. The evening was full. Everyone was in it together, a communal experience. That night. This life. This is not my life, though. I do not know this. I do not want this. I look up, instead, to the ceiling, waiting for a miracle to happen. Because, after all, we’re all just kids who grew up way too fast.
Not so sure if it’s possible for my Sunday morning to get any lovelier.
No matter how bad or negative you think a situation you’re in is, life is about how you put things into perspective; how you view things. How you take them and treat them as lessons in life. That is one of the most important principles that I have learned through my early journey in life. Because when you know how to fit in and understand things much deeper, you’ll survive and probably get over things easily.
It’s that time of the year: February 20. Okay and also campus election.
You will go to the paper towns and you will never come back.
Anonymous asked: plans for Valentine's day?
It’s sort of like 8 in the evening, and I still have so many things to do for school, and my to-do-list is sort of like getting longer and longer each day. So I guess I’m probably having ice cream and CSI later tonight for Valentine’s day (which is about to end in less than 4 hours)
It was cold and damp as I climbed up the high mountains of New Nebo, until eventually arriving at their local school. I took in little details, things I only noticed after several minutes of gazing around the community, as I was dying of exhaustion. The wooden facade of the houses. The sunflowers. The genuine smile on their people’s faces. I walked fast, desperate for food and sleep, stepping on dull, wet soil that flattened beneath my feet. The tall trees. The never ending pathways. I absorbed these things in a fast, impatient manner, like seeing them for the first time. I felt the weight of my bag on my shoulders, but I forced myself to ignore it.
Before leaving for the immersion, I had read the newspaper that was lying on our dining table at home. Typhoon Haiyan survivors struggling to rebuild. Tortured maid in Hong Kong. Denise Cornejo speaks up to Vhong Navarro. People scoop up these tabloids, devour their gossips, and on several mundane days, I had always done the same. But now, for some reason, I find myself thinking about Emilia Sultihan whenever I read anything mindless. I keep on picturing her there, in her little house, alone with her cat and the pictures that she keeps for remembrance, feeling happy and contented with every moment she spends with her foster son away from her, while I spend most of my days on things that mean absolutely nothing to me personally: concerts, gossips, fame, money, the latest noise out of Miley Cyrus or Vhong or whoever. In a strange way, I envied the quality of Nanay Emilia’s time even as I lamented its diminishing supply. I do not know why I bother with all the distractions in my life. Here in the city, I am so fed up with reality. I live in fear of deadlines. I live in drowning schedules and meetings. I live in a prison of to-do-lists. And I, alone, sentence myself to that prison. But in a little community somewhere up in Talacag, Bukidnon, people do not buy the culture most humans inflict upon themselves. Instead, they make their own little subculture. It does not mean disregarding every rule of our society. They do not reject education, for instance. They do not run through the red lights whenever they get the chance to visit the city. The little things, they can obey. But the big things, the ones that matter most- how they should think, what they should value- those they choose theirselves. They do not let anyone- or any society- determine those for them. Every community has its own problems, I guess. The way they, the people in New Nebo, do it is not to run away. They work at creating their own culture. I have begun to realize that no matter where you live, the biggest defect us humans have is our impracticalness. We do not see what we and the things around us could be. We do not see the potential in simple things. In result, we are surrounded by people who say “I want my dreams now”, and we usually end up with only a few people having what they want, and majority of the population having none at all. The problem is, I think, we do not believe that we are much alike as we all are. Rich and poor, celebrities and politicians, Muslims and Christians. If we see each other equally, we might form a big humane family in this world, and to value that family as much as we value our own. Lately, what I have begun to value as much as that are the important questions in life. As what Nanay Emilia has helped me realize, those ultimate questions have to do something with love, responsibility, and genuine faith.
The 3rd and last day of the immersion, I thought about how life goes on. We left the place with the sun conquering the whole community. It was hot and bright as I walked down the high mountains of New Nebo. I took in little details. Things I had not noticed during my 3-day stay there. The simplicity of their individual lives. The contentment they feel when they wake up every morning, how they value people more than material things. I walked slowly, taking time, stepping on dry soil now. The little houses. Nanay Emilia Sultihan. I absorbed these things in a slow, observant manner, like seeing them for the last time. I felt the weight of the pain of leaving all these simple, yet so beautiful, things behind. But I forced myself to ignore it.