Hang Time

Because for some reason I like finding themes in things, the current theme of my life is this: hang time.

My previous inspiration post worked; I've finally made it out of college. I spent some weeks recuperating from my final, dazed days as a university student. (The first weeks after I had passed my thesis, I woke up almost every morning with a start, preparing to rush to school and submit my revisions. They say it takes 28 days to make or break a habit; I was working on that research for 10 months.) Then I spent some days in Bicol with my family. When we got back to Manila, I started the hunt.

Basically it's just been 3 weeks since I seriously started looking for a job, but oh, what impatience. There are people to whom things come easy; I am not one of them. I guess it's good training in a way--building character, teaching me to work hard for the things I really want. And work hard, I will. Maybe I'm built for stress, or work stress for that matter. I always like it when I'm working on something, especially when I'm able to understand and be good at what I'm working on--when I'm moving forward and making progress. I've never been the type who was good at sitting around and waiting.

I thought I could at least use this spare time to write, but often, I can't. There are some new subjects and styles I'd love to experiment with, but the right words, right tone, and all that aren't coming to me yet. So I'm biding my time in that department, too.

All those years in school, even when I had to wait for things, I always knew what would come next. For the first time since I've been aware of it, I have absolutely no idea what the universe has in store for me. I have plans, of course. But with these kinds of things, you can only bake your half of the plan so well. The rest is in someone else's hands (or maybe someone else's oven, if you're stubborn about sticking to that metaphor--but it sounds so wrong).

Here's a story: I almost flunked Physics in high school. I usually think of myself as a fast learner, but I was dumb as a rock in that course. Come to think of it, maybe rocks understand the laws of Physics better than I did. The worst lessons for me were the ones on projectile motion. It was a struggle to get half of those computations right. Among other things, I was awful at calculating hang time. I always thought it was little more or a little less than what it actually was.

Maybe this is just me being awful at the concept of time again. Maybe I'm right in convincing myself that there's nothing wrong or shameful about just biding time and having to wait for things. (Maybe the only real shame were my Physics grades.) In any case, I'm just going to have to hang in here, I guess.

Inspiration/Motivation

Inspiration #1: The Things I Miss

This blog, my social life, my computer games, reading books, and all the simple little pleasures in life I've been putting on hold.

And you. Quality, thesis-worry-free alone time with you.

Inspiration #2: The Things I Look Forward To

My family's collective sigh of relief and beam of pride. A graduation ceremony (or two), after five long years. Having a sablay of my own. My dream job, or any good job for that matter. Money I don't have to mooch from my parents. A puppy, come December.

And you. More freedom, more resources, more time to spend with you.

I'm writing these down because hope is elusive, time is going too fast, and things are looking scary. If I can't do this improbable task for the heck of self-pride and a sense of achievement, the next best thing would be doing it for my dreams. (Thesis speak: when intrinsic motivation fails, extrinsic motivation acts as a pretty decent backup).


I promise to finish this thesis by next month and live happily soon after.

Anyone who'll try to tell me how college is so easy compared to "real life" can kick themselves on my behalf. You've probably never met my thesis adviser.

2011 Wishlist Part 1: (Or A Lez Guide to Boring Fashion)

It's been three years (I think) since I last made one of these, but today I figured I needed something to look forward to--hence, a very materialistic wishlist.

This isn't necessarily a Christmas wishlist, and certainly not a list of things I expect/hope other people would give me. (Unless you, dear reader, happen to be a very generous soul--then by all means, make me happy!) Nope, this is more of a list of the things I want to save up for, mostly to remind myself that I need money--thus I need a job; thus I need to graduate already; thus I seriously need to stop slacking off. I took yet another unmotivated schoolwork-day off for this, so I hope it works.

This post's OST: Nickelback - Rockstar

Wistful

Where did they go, those sunrises two years ago, when everything was easy to write and my emotions weren't so complex and unreachable at the same time? Here I go again at a frightening crossroad, with so much uncertainty and pressure, and nearly not enough sleep (often because of the workload; at times of my own volition).

It's yet another rollercoaster year of fun, excitement, fear, self-doubt, sadness, and utter, inexplicable happiness and contentment. In other words, it's life, or a particularly heightened phase of it. But among the many emotions, in this moment--and in many others, when I happen to catch myself--I am wistful.

Contradictory as it is, I've found myself most wistful at the happiest, calmest times. I yearn for things as they happen to me, because every time I can't help but remind myself: in a minute, or an hour, or the blink of an eye--this moment, this experience, and this unexpected swell of emotions will pass and I will never be able to have it again.

Around seven years ago, I was fascinated with cherry blossoms, blooming and falling in a matter of days. Until now this fearful fascination with change and ephemerality has stayed with me. Everything ends; everything passes.

So, often I shy away from any form of trying to capture the moment. Unwritten posts, pictures not taken, words left unsaid. Best left that way, for fear of not being able to do it justice. Instead I opt to keep them in my head, much like series episodes to be replayed when I feel the need.

Other times though, I think I ought to tell those stories--even just to myself--because the time will surely come when I will forget. Perhaps I'll start. While words and pictures may not suffice, they'll help, at least.

Perhaps, things aren't so easily lost after all.

Damien Rice - Cannonball

Vicarious

I'm tired of a life lived through your stories. I'm weary of the details of a good time or an annoying day where I'm always a spectator and never a character; the only reason they matter is because you matter.

You know I love you, but telling me all about a life spent with others shouldn't be all there is to spending your life with me.