Tuesday, January 11, 2011

It Will Rain

… Ever since man learned how to count, or rather, how to use words that would make expressing quantities less taxing, he has been fascinated with the way these quantitative expressions turn out at the end of the day. We have always been a species awed by numerical combinations, and calendar dates are not an exception. When New Year came, the triple one was all the rage. Today, it’s the quintet of ones. In the spirit of such a rarity, our Physics teacher even decided to dismiss us at 11:11 AM – four more ones to add to our bragging rights at having lived such a day.

… The exam results came out one by one in a span of six days. Bio certainly was deadly, no doubt about that. It even came to a point when we were already anticipating, instead of dreading, how low our scores could possibly get. Biochem, on the other hand, was the disaster that it had promised to be. I’d like to think of my rather unpleasing score as a consequence of poor testmanship. Next time, keep this in mind: Answer as you go. Don’t just write your final two choices on the margins of the questionnaire, intending to choose between them later, lest later never comes.

… I have a thing for Southeast Asian fare. Curry on the throne of the pantheon. And now I’m working towards becoming a pescetarian (like that will happen in a decades’ time). Fish is healthy, at least considerably healthier than terrestrial meat. But yes, seafood in general is agreeable to my palate. Have you ever eaten slices of spam that, when squeezed with the hand, leave the palm shiny and sticky with oil? I think of that, and I see with my mind's eye people dying of clogged arteries.

… Human existence is all about conformity. Yet, when one simply lives to conform, a part of the soul slowly dies. It’s that part that yearns to be different, to be expressive, to just let go. Funny how many people write about the supposed evils of conformity in their papers and essay exams, when all they ever do is stick to the dictates of society.

… Last year, my pen suffered a dry spell. This year, it will rain, and when it rains, it certainly pours. Time to toil away, my love.

"Those you’ve known and lost still walk behind you."

No comments: