Tuesday, March 02, 2004

2 MARCH 2004 (TUESDAY)

Today was a slow day. Or, I can always look at it as the eye of the storm.

My list of final requirements have grown longer. As of today, they are:

1. CL 122 – final paper on The Soong Sisters
2. CW 150 revisions – one short story and one poem
3. CW 120 revisions – four poems
4. Kasaysayan 100 – final exam (our third exam’s this Friday)
5. English 146 – final essay on The Lord of the Rings
6. CW 198 – class exhibit, storytelling session, poetry reading, and revision on one short story as well as an essay on the creative process

Just looking at the list makes my head hurt.

Of course, I am quite aware that I can do it, and that it’s not going to be difficult. As of the moment, I am quite confident that I will be able to finish everything on time. But I am also quite afraid to falter at this point, just because there are too many things riding on my shoulders. People are expecting too much of me, and I’m not the kind of person who can just brush disappointment aside. I can’t bear to have anyone tell me that I have disappointed them, that I didn’t live up to their expectations. I suppose I am, to a certain degree, bound to what other think of me – to the point that I sometimes forget what it feels like to do something just because I’m happy doing it. As the Other Half wisely pointed out earlier, it’s a choice between disappointing others and being happy about yourself. I suppose he’s braver than me in that respect – he’s quite brave, actually, with regards to a lot of realities in this world that we live in.

Now don’t get me wrong: I’m quite happy doing what I do, and being with the people that I’m with, and just generally going with the flow. But then, I’ve just realized that I’m just running around in circles, settling into a routine. And it’s getting to me. I want to get out, to just escape these definitions that I’ve set around myself – just get away from it all for awhile, and remember who I am and the reasons behind the things that I do. (Still looking forward to a road trip of sorts, I guess. What just frightens me is that possible companions equates to Dell and Peloy, which sort of gives the whole Y Tu Mama Tambien set-up a whole new twist. I might be adventurous, but not that much.) I suppose I am obsessive-compulsive that way: I always have to have a reason for the things that I do. There has to be a logical explanation for things.

(And don’t point out to me that love is illogical. I know that already. But love is always the exception, never the rule. And there is never such a thing as a “normal relationship” – except maybe in Mandy Moore films. I just realized it now. And I’m glad.)

I think, generally, I have it better than most people. And I’m always thankful for the things that matter: my family (though my parents are now estranged), friends in the best places, a good education, life experiences, music and books and clothes and three square meals a day, the love of my life. And I shouldn’t complain, I know I shouldn’t. Because in the face of Third World poverty and the destruction of the environment and the loss of life due to a lost cause, I am merely a petty voice crying in the middle of the wilderness. I mean, this is it. What more can I ask for?

Comfort in Your Strangeness
Cynthia Alexander

Woke up this morning
I was staring at the ceiling cracks
And roadmaps and highways
And landscapes

I have seen
I have been
To places far and deep in my mind
Only to find
Comfort in your strangeness

Of moving shadows when I call the wind by name
Rushing firewater in the dark of a cloud

I have seen
I have been
To places far and deep in my mind
Only to find
Comfort in your strangeness

We are slaves to the crimes we commit
In fits of passion we shame
We are nothing we are nothing
We are nothing we are nothing
But the dust on your feet
Dying to be born again

Singing ether water fire
Singing earth singing air

I have seen
I have been
To places far and deep in my mind
Only to find
Comfort in your strangeness

- Here you go, my love. I think it sums everything up perfectly.

No comments:

Post a Comment

This is a comment box. It is for comments. Please do not leave your Giant Squid of Anger here.