We write our own stories.
We control our own lives.
Nobody else is there to play the protagonist.
But a protagonist is not a protagonist without the plot.

I control my own life.
I can make things right again.

I can help them make things better.
I will help them.

I will never again assume that every thing is and will be alright. Not ever.
Life is always out to get you.

Conspiracies are for real.
They don't just happen in movies.

I am angry.
I have been betrayed.
I am disappointed.
I don't have the courage to be the villain in yours even if I want to.
I am sad.
I have lived almost my whole life believing I made the right decisions, I thought I did the right things.
I am hurt.
My trust has been violated.

But I won't give up believing in happy endings.

I control my own life

My story is going to end happy.

I will be happy. Someday.

And I will never be the same again.
None of us will ever be.

I want to hate. But I can't.
Don't let me hate. Please. I am begging.

I became a better person once.
I will become better again.
For everybody.
For myself.
For you.

This time I'm not going to lie and say I'm fine because I really am not. And I think I have had enough. I have had enough of lies.

Since I climbed down a volcano's crater [refer to this entry] in a jacket, with only my face prey to the heat of the burning sun, my nose has been burnt. It is currently colored in different shades of brown and with the tip of my nose the darkest. I didn't know that I was burnt so badly until my nose started peeling. My color doesn't go back to normal that fast, thanks to my late father's genes. So it'll probably take a couple of more weeks before my face tones again. I look older and more stressed when my skin color is dark. xD

Anyway, in other news, I had dinner with my two elder sisters last night. It was nice to be able to spend time with them again. We had Sinigang na Sugpo (Prawns in Tamarind Soup) and Liempo (Pork Belly) at Krocodile Grille. I haven't tasted that good a sinigang in months, with just the right extent of sourness. The grilled pork wasn't exceptional but neither was it short from delicious.

Reading trisianna's latest entry made me feel really old and erm technical and less depressed. She had poetry and it took me back to when I still knew how write and express myself in a lyrical way.

The last real poem I submitted to deviantArt:

The Bleak, Weak With

There are castles, high and grand.
There are towers which stand on clouds,
Fog and air, cold and wet, sweet breeze, sour rays.
The hearths of knights and maidens fair.
They bring the stars down on earth;
They strum the night with voices high;
They fill the skies with uttered hope.
But in the hills, there breathe the witches.
On some days, old. On some days, young.
They hoot like owls and ride their sticks,
Like dappled rainbows, pass the moon.
While maidens sing, the witches snort.
While knights hunt, the witches slay.
They live on fear and not on glee.
They bathe on tears and feed on gloom.
Vile, they say, vile and banished.
But forgotten, I always bawl.

One fainted night, while red flames flare,
Not failing the heavens like swirling bones,
While roaches march on grey, tan dirt,
The witches dance, their broomsticks tap.
In one crooked wood, there sat one witch,
Pale and brittle, her eyes were black, her lips so red.
She freed one sigh and looked beyond.
Down! Away! Where the princess chants.
Oh, how she wanted to flee from dark!
Oh, how she wished to see moist grass!
This witch was called the bleak, weak witch.
She wishes on stars and drinks not mire.
Her black eyes wish to see blue skies,
No more grey, she always says.
The witch’s name, they did not know, they dared not ask,
For those black eyes rein the grass,
The swamps, the ants and the blue, white fire.
She was a princess, herself, she was.
She ruled the hills and the under lives.
Yet they did not know,
She need not rule,
She need not want to fly and slay.

Submitted on the 7th day of September, 2005. It has been that long. It used to come so natural, like it was instinctive. Now, I don't have a way with words anymore. I think I've lost it. Does that really happen when you get closer to the age of menopause? Haha. I'm 20. Another May and I'm 21. Haha.

Or maybe I'm less depressed. I find it easier to work with words when I'm emotionally disturbed. I also haven't published an entry in my Tagalog journal since January.

Or maybe I'm just extra unhappy. More paranoid than usual. My subconscious excessively intruded by phantasms of misery that I've lost the ability to write about them.

Poison Vines

Tears:

Forever,
Slithering
Down
Like
Vines
Of
Dirty
Ivy.

May 2, 2005

Yes, I was pretty disturbed. A dysfunctional family and an unwanted academic path, plus bogeymen from my childhood. I don't know how I survived. Life really does get better, but only if you try your hardest to make things work. And it's like a piece of machinery, it needs maintenance. You only become happy if you keep your factors happy. Neglect could mean a deathly plunge. Like what I'm doing now.


P.S. Just found a new batch of pictures of the hike. From my cousin's camera.


Grace, Me, Liza and my face all red

I think I just lost a good friend.
Because I'm really no good at this.

I'm sorry. But I want to make things right.
I just don't know how I'm going to tell you.
There are things I want to say to you.
But it seems you've been chasing me off instinctively.

I want to tell you that I did like you.
(Too. If you ever did.)
And I think I still do.

So, yeah.
If everything turns from worse to worst -
I can't do nothing else but let this friendship go to waste.

I'm really no good.
I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I should take out the curriculum checklist. I should. I really should.

I've been trying to convince myself to do that for a month now. Yes. But I'm so fcuking scared that I get this mental picture of slashing my wrist once I finish assessing what needs assessment of my academic life.

You know what this thing is called? Something even worse than paranoia. Something more scary. Something that breaks a person's spirit. Insecurity.

Everybody is getting on with their lives. And I'm here. Stuck. Rotting. Everybody has decided or is starting to decide that they fix what needs proper attention.

But, anyway, this shouldn't be a big deal. People are dying of hunger in Ethiopia and I'm complaining about this? What the fcuk is wrong with me?

In other news, I bought two pairs of jeans today. (And I also just commented about Sub-Saharan African poverty. I could've fed a batch of malnourished African children. I'm so fcuking insensitive.)

Yes, I'm just kind of pissed off. Even if I don't look like it. This black mist has been brooding over me all day long. I've been trying with all my heart to ignore it. And just when I thought it was okay to let my guard down. I never learn, do I?

I have a lot to do. So when I wake up tomorrow, right after I eat breakfast, I will be focusing on this little epic narrative called Fixing My Life. But you know what? Nothing really needs fixing. Nothing is broken. I'm fine the way everything is or was a couple of months ago.

I think I'm just forcing myself to be insecure. Maybe I really am not. Just so I can have a reason to whine. Because I'm so short on being the emo that I was once before. Haha. This is all nonsense. But why the fcuk am I doing this to myself? Am I trying to be funny? Fcuk this. Fcuk everything.

I'm just tired. Tired and scared.

Please tell me I'm being stupid. Really. Please.

I feel strange.
Tap, tap, tap.
My hands shake slightly as they type these words.
My fingers crawl and jump on the keys.
But they are uneasy. They are unwilling.
My head tilts.
The back of my neck curves, leaning my head forward.
My back leans on soft surface.
Texture, spring, pillow.
My elbows rest on artificial arm.
Rough, spotted, dirty.
My left leg swinging. Inches from covered floor.
My right leg petrified.
And I stare at a canvass with eyes stinging.
As it gets filled with words.
Words uneasy. Words unwilling.
Words doubting.

And I try to listen to the breeze. I hear nothing.
Just a grinding whisper from man-made ventilation.
Wheezing fake. Above my head.
My hair flies. As it catches fast air.

During my first semester as a BS HRIM student, I was infected with a virus called varicella zoster. Spots appeared all over my body, then became pockmarks, itching, looking like blisters: raw and filled. It turned out to be a highly contagious illness which is widely known as chicken pox. I was advised to stay at home so as not to infect other people. I was absent from school for almost a month. And I was worried; I was trying to start anew but Life was trying to be funny, and decided to pull a joke on me. Chem 16 took up 3 of my total units that semester and everybody knows you can't be too careful with it; well, at least, everybody who's not very good at utilizing the left side of their brain.

The next semester, I was finally getting the hang of being part of the college. I was making friends and excitement as an HRIM student was just starting to dawn. Then, my father died. I refused to go home and leave school but everybody was insisting that I give up trying to be the apathetic daughter that I was. So I left; I left for two weeks to mourn and bury my father's body. I missed the class' barhopping. And I'm nowhere to be found in the Beverage Management - Lab class picture.

Around five months ago, I was a few weeks away from completing my third semester. But I never got to finishing it. Because I decided to risk; I decided to participate in a Work & Travel Program in the United States. And I'm back. Uncertain. Undecided. Rattled.

Since I shifted to HRIM, I haven't gone through a semester without an interruption. A sickness, a dead father, and now some US government program. Are these ways of telling me that I shouldn't be doing what I'm doing? That I'm not right for what I'm finally happy at? Nah.

I went through the first two semesters undaunted. This last one is just another honest event. No conspiracies whatsoever.

Is that right?

Where to start? I have no idea.

My mind refuses to move on.

Yes, yes. And I don't deny it. I am a verrry emotional person. Especially, when I know there's something behind to look back at. And I wish everything in front of me would just be a little bit less uncertain.

I'm concerned about what I'm going to do from now. I'm anxious to find out what Life has in store for me. But I'm scared that I'd be too apathetic and careless again and once more, history will repeat itself, and I'll lose control of my story.

I have so much already. I can say been there, done that about so many things so I don't understand why I'm so insecure.

Oh, this is one of those phases in my life that I need a shrink.


Iris, Collin, Cassie, Richard, Nora, Me, Maricar
Background: The Box House.:)


Aida, Iris, Kristel, Me

Who would've wanted to leave?

I did enjoy my stay there. Well, yes, it was boring. We followed a routine. Everyday was the same. We wake up, eat breakfast, ride the same car to work, open the restaurant, work for more than 5 hours, go home, eat dinner, and sleep. But what made everything worthwhile were the things in between. Cassie's stories during the rides, the hugs for and from Aida, the hellos from Kristel, the satisfied smiles of the customers, the holas from Victor, Nora's jokes, Tammy's lessons, and a lot more.



I learned so much from the people I worked with that I would have never learned from lectures.

I miss Johnny Rockets and The Box House. A lot. :(

We never thought we'd be missed. It didn't really occur to me that people would cry when we leave. But they did. xD I wasn't very happy when we left. Dang, I was crying. And I was crying in front of other people. It was so much I couldn't wait until I had the chance to be by myself and pour my heart out. And would you believe they were happy when we missed our flight? O_O Haha! But, it makes me feel good - the thought that they were sad to see us go...because it made me realize that, somehow, we did something right. That they were glad we stayed and worked with them.

"You were the best employees Johnny Rockets has ever had. We wish we get more associates like you." - Jason, when he said goodbye to us at the airport

"Don't leave! I need you!" - Kristel, I don't remember how many times she said it xD

"Stay. You can stay in my house for free." - Aida

"You're my best friend, Joan!" - Aida, while cooking xD

"Oh, you can marry my son then you can stay." - Aida

(Yes, Aida is very crazy.)

"Welcome back!" - Cassie, when we missed our flight

"Joanna. I'm going to miss you, Joanna." - Victor

"I'm going to miss you, guys. You worked very hard." - Tammy

"Good? You weren't good. You were great!" - Juanita

"You were the best J1 students we've had." - Gilbert

LOL. Yeah. Mayabang kami. xD You know what? I would've gladly stayed. Aside from the fact that I loved the people there, I was earning good money. Very good money that at a point the thought of going back to school made me laugh. But Christ! I believe I know better.

Sana ganun na lang kadaling bumalik. Yung tipong, "Manong pabili po ng ticket." Sasakay ka lang ng bus tapos andun ka na." Pero kasi hindi.

So here I am. What to do? Joan, you're 20 years old. You're young. You can enroll next semester. You're in the best school in the country. You've gone through so many things in life. You're finally enjoying what you decided to do in life. What the fcuk is wrong with you?

Nothing. Start all over again. Goddamnit.

Yo necesidad...

You know how incredibly disappointing it is when you suddenly realize you can't be that person?

I've known it for a while now. And I've been sighing heavily. But tonight it struck me.

Life is not really unfair. The unfairness comes when you let it. Sometimes, you try to blame it on something else, on someone else. But, eventually, your consciousness gets a poke. And your world would start to shatter. But then again, it will only shatter if you let it. That poke will always be painful. No safeguard is going to be strong enough to keep you sleeping.

Really. I've been in a daze for too long. And I'm just about to completely wake up. I wish someone would throw a bucket of cold water in my face. So waking up won't be as arduous. And it won't be as painful.

WTF am I talking about?

Nothing. I just feel weird. For failing. As a someone I've been wanting to become. That's where the problem lies, I guess. I've just been wanting, and I haven't been trying.

Haha. I'm chattering shit.

And my world shatters.

The end.

(Oooh, chatter rhymes with shatter! O_O)

Preoccupation is a crime. But you know what? I would've been less burdened, even glad, if it really was preoccupation. I wasn't out of focus. No. But I had tried to convince myself that I was. Dammit.

Things became hazy. They happened too fast. Pretty much like a transition of an ImageReady file, from one layer then immediately to another, no seconds in between. Muddled. And I decided to just ignore them like a dirty stray cat in the middle of a road.

Now, I'm out of time.

Great.

I finally received a call from NCO (read previous entry). All I need to do now is show up on Sunday and sign the contract. But wait, training will start on the 14th and we have a catering report on that day. Great. Great. Great. The caller said the training would start on 6AM until 3PM. I have a class for, practically, the whole day (8:30AM to 5:30PM). I asked if there was a different schedule, and he said there was a 2PM-11PM shift. I signed up for it -hahaha- even though I'm not sure what time our report would end.

I have to talk to my groupmates regarding our report schedule.

Damn that 30,000! Imagine earning that much money in less than a month -- in 2 weeks (plus a week of training)! And free pizzas every night. You also get a chance to take home a gaming console. Damn!

FCUK. I already have plans for that money. I'm so lucky I got that call but...I'm not sure if I'm going to take the job. :( Damn.

( read the rest of the entry... )

I've been asked twice this week to attend religious meetings. These invitations are getting frequent. I wonder why.

Oh, the person who recently invited me to attend this "reflect-on-the-Word" meeting knew that I didn't believe in her God, but she still had the courage to ask me to join them. I didn't know that she was aware of my disbelief so I just told her I couldn't because I was busy. She persuaded and I said I wasn't a Christian. She said it was okay and that maybe I could join them some other time. (See, I always avoid getting into the subject of my atheism because it would just provoke some not-so-nice emotions. Not on me but probably on the person I would be conversing with.) But I'm glad that she didn't start ill-treating me.

Last semester, a friend asked me and another classmate to help prepare for her mother's birthday. So we spent a night at their place. After the party, we were still all awake and the father was interviewing me about my family; it turned out the friend had already shared my life story to the him. Except for my atheism. Their family is all worship-y and stuff, but I've never really felt awkward around them because they're really nice people UNTIL that moment when the friend blurted out that I am a self-proclaimed atheist. I froze. Feck, her father played the role of the head pastor in their church - so imagine my shock when the friend announced, "Najo here is an atheist." I really couldn't believe my ears and it felt like she was betraying me. I'm not sure what happened but the father seemed to have ignored the declaration. ~_~

(After visiting the Diary of a Teenage Atheist, I started remembering these things.)

I used to have a gay classmate that was really fun and kind until he learned that I was an atheist. Well, he's still fun, the way how fun gay people are because of their gay-ness. But, now, whenever we see each other - wherever, in a cafeteria, in a library, in the streets, anywhere - he tells anyone he's with that I'm an atheist and he makes it sound like I'm doing something against the Philippine Constitution or something and that I should be put in jail. And I hate that.

I've been tracking down an organization called the UP Atheists' Circle. I found their Friendster community and Yahoo! Group. I've been wanting to join ever since first year; I'd really want to try but I'm not sure what's keeping me from emailing them and inquiring about their application process.

Anyway, enough with that. Today, I went to Divisoria to do an errand for Mother Dearest. I spent an hour trying to find a particular building where I was supposed to meet one of her textile people. But I managed. It was crazy as always. But before riding a jeepney back to LRT, I dropped by the 168 mall and bought these:

     

The Le Sportsac is, of course, fake. I bought it for Php50.00. The Voodoo chain is worth Php35.00.

Now to the acad stuff, the semester officially started last week and I've been marking more than too many deadlines on my Rainlender. My Tearoom duty will start on the 6th of next month but I still haven't talked to Mr. Guerrero regarding the University Hotel affiliation schedule.

Tomorrow night I'll be posing for my resume ID picture. Thursday afternoon, I'll be in a room in the ABS-CBN building for a screening. I decided to apply as a Customer Support Agent (a.k.a. Call Center Agent) this Christmas. If I get accepted, I'll be spending Christmas eve and Christmas and New Year evenings and the nights in between in a room with 99 other lonely people. Mother Dearest allowed me to work. But Eldest Sister pretty much condemned the idea. Anyway, it's not sure yet since they will only be hiring a hundred people and the applicants are probably twice in volume.

I will feel bad about skipping Christmas. I already am feeling bad about thinking of skipping Christmas. Hah, it's not what you're thinking - I'm an atheist, for chrissake. Christmas, like in almost every other family, is a tradition. Even if I don't celebrate it the way a believer does, I care about how important it is for the other members of my family. I know how a big deal having everyone home for Christmas is to them and I respect that. But just this time, I hope I'll be forgiven if ever I'll be absent.

Okay, so you're thinking, "there must be a reason why Najo is ditching Christmas for this job." You're right, I do have reasons. The first one is that the company will be paying Php30,000 and I'll only be working for three weeks. Imagine that. It'll take me more three months to get that amount if I'm going to depend on tutoring alone. And the other reason would be because I want to experience being away from my family during a time that I'd normally be home because of an important event. During lectures, we've been told repeatedly that entering the hospitality industry means giving up your holidays. And I want to try that. Crazy, yeah. I guess I'll be wasting a Christmas. But, oh, another reason, I really need that money, and I believe that is a reason strong enough. ~_~

I really hope that I get in. But if I don't, it's fine, I go home for Christmas then.

And this is the first Christmas after Papa's death, so I really can't blame Eldest Sister if she's hating me right now. Y_Y

I was watching a group of kids playing soccer. It was 8 in the morning and the sun's rays were still gentle. A short breeze touched my cheeks. And for the first time in months I felt that great sense of serenity.



Sunken Garden has always been my favorite spot in the campus. I've been a loyal lover of the landmark since my first year. And even before I entered the university I've heard of it's strangeness. So the first time I was able to gaze at it, from an Ikot Jeepney, I made myself promise that I would spend my free afternoons there.

( read the rest of the entry... )

For some very unwise decisions in the past, I'm going to graduate later than ever.

I'm trying to choose between two roads right now. Do you know that feeling when you already want an option but can't choose it because you know you'll benefit more from the other? Well -- that's not what I'm feeling. Hah. And that's even worse. I really have no idea where to go. I don't have the slightest bias of choosing one over the other. I'm cut in between. And I feel like my eyes are going to bulge out any second from this great tension. No, no, I'm not thinking of shifting courses again. Are you out of your mind? This is a different matter. I'll tell once I get the courage to write about it. Right now, I feel useless and stupid.

And I feel guilty. It's eating me up again.

When did this start, anyway? I woke up this morning and realized I forgot to attend a major subject yesterday morning. I mean, whatthefeck happened? O_O For a very stupid reason I failed to go to class. I FORGOT. I wrote my schedule two nights before but I STILL FORGOT. I fcuking forgot. How dumber can I be? So, you ask, how does this connect to the dilemma mentioned earlier? I am an extremely irresponsible person. And I hate myself for that. I've been hating myself for quite some time now. But I failed to change. I've been trying to give more care to the world but, hah, here I am...careless than ever. I-don't-give-a-damn defines me very well.

I really want to be that person who thinks about her future. But I'm so careless. I've been choosing to be unaware of everything. And that just sucks, huh?

I'm contented. Right now, I am. Really. I don't need my mother to assess that. But happy? Definitely, not. But it's better to be not happy but contented; it's better to have one of those two adjectives than none at all.

And I feel really bad every time I try to play safe. But I don't want to try so hard either. Mediocrity is sadness.

I'm scared. I feel like I'm going to let a great chance pass me by. And all I'm going to do is glance and turn back.

I thought I might be able to take my first practicum, HRIM 174, during the next summer break but my schedule got messed up this afternoon, I had to change sections and add a class -- made me realize some things and I decided to finish my non-majors first. So I will be enrolling for two electives and a CWTS instead of finally being able to taste the 'world out there.'

I did attend the first pre-practicum session wearing the coat and skirt I bought the night before. And I was in stockings. Believe it or not. So, anyway, I was there. The teachers were Mr. Guerrero, a member of the HRIM faculty, and a Mrs. Pacheco, who introduced herself as a former faculty-member-whose-reason-for-quitting-was-the-awful-traffic-in-Katipunan. Generally, I liked it.

The first speaker was Mr. Guerrero, the table was given to Mrs. Pacheco about two hours after. She talked about confidence. We were told how to dress up not just for the companies but also for ourselves. Anyway, towards the end of the discussion, a question was raised and she answered with fervor that the females must wear jewelries. EARRINGS. And she made it sound like earrings were a requirement to make an impression.

So there was poor me. Stricken with terror.
Her words rang like the horrid high-pitched squeaks of a colony of bats.

No, I don't wear earrings. I don't have piercings. And I refuse to have my skin be pierced. I do not need extra holes in my skin.

Why? Because it terrifies me. Even just the thought of it makes my knees weak and my earlobes tingle with fear.

( read the rest of the entry... )

Haha. Funny.

But there's one good thing about this semester...it made me decide that I want to have a real life. Haha. Real life.

And I'm totally applying for a job after these exams. I can't live without one. I realized that when I have a job during a normal semester, with a full load of subjects, I am able to manage my time better. Forced to review ahead of time. Haha.

I'm getting a new printer. Thank you, Mother.

I'm not in the mood to write about the function. So, yeah, it wasn't great. And my groupmates and I? We're near to stabbing each other. Haha. Seriously.

Right now, I just want all the exams to be over. I want to finish my Tearoom affiliation. I want this semester to end so I can plan on starting a better one.

Okay, so I should just review for my exams tomorrow. I will not fail Beverage Management. I will not fail any subject this semester. I can't afford to.

I received an SMS from my eldest sister this morning. One of my paternal uncles, Papa Moling, died of heart attack.

Then another from my youngest sister just 3 hours ago. My father started vomiting blood last night. An ambulance brought him to the city's hospital.

I don't really know what to feel. I couldn't concentrate on variable costs for a bit during my Accounting class. But everything went back to normal a few minutes after.

My heart did beat faster than normal when I heard the news about my father. But it wasn't sadness. I was feeling anxious. To hear whether he lived or not. I still haven't received any message from anyone.

I'm so busy with the HRIM series, and receiving news like these just adds more stress.

I don't have Internet at the dorm right now. We'll have a new connection next week.

Wish me luck with school.

This year's vacation was actually my first real vacation in almost four years. Before I shifted to HRIM, my supposedly free time were always eaten up by the summer classes then removal exams. So I never really had the chance to enjoy a break. You see, I wasn't a very good student. While my high school classmates were enjoying, while the beach's summer breeze touch their faces, I was sweating from the sun's scorching heat or running up the Math Building. I was left at school even when it's actually that time of the year to play at parks. Because I was a delinquent and seemed to have the need to fail every last bit of my total class units. I didn't have the verve to go home after a month of being a failure. I felt I didn't deserve a real vacation even if I knew I needed one so badly.

But, as they say, the past is past. I am now a Hotel, Restaurant and Institution Management student. I was wanting my life to be better when I finally decided to shift to the course, but I never thought it would be this better. It's not the best yet, that I wouldn't deny. But better is always, well, better.

( read the rest of the entry... )

When I was in grade school, my dream was to become a successful lawyer. I used to tell people that I was going to become one of those cool women in suits fighting for justice. I wanted to defend the innocent and punish the weaklings who resort to crime just to survive. I was an idealist even when I was six. But maybe this is true for almost every healthy children. Children dream of becoming scientists and doctors, of becoming superheroes and princesses; to romanticize things, it's a child's way and play. But, most of the time, adults find ways to meddle. Most of our childhood dreams were products of our environment. Those dreams were easily influenced because we, as children, were fragile and gullible. Since it was our parents' role to guide us, they tried to make the most of it, they subconsciously manipulated everything. I wanted to become a lawyer not because I had too much Space Sheriff Shaider in my head, not because I really believed the Earth Squadron Fiveman was a force to defend evil, I wanted to become a lawyer because my father told me I would become a fine one. Though, eventually, when I reached high school, I stopped dreaming of courtrooms and judges, such was too much for a person whose best friend was lethargy.

( read the rest of the entry... )

I'll be using this layout for a few days or so. Got it from freelayouts. I don't feel like creating my own yet, so this'll do for now.

Anyway, I have not been blogging. An online friend asked me yesterday what was keeping me busy and why I haven't been blogging lately. Well, reason is...I just don't feel like it. But, really, I want to do something about it. I've been lazy towards my online obligations for quite some time now and it doesn't feel good.

Berta, my computer, crashed and wasn't fixed until a few months ago. We were separated for almost a year. Those months made me realize that I actually have a life. I actually have a life outside the Internet. I wouldn't call it real life, I consider my cyber existence real, as well.

I didn't like Berta being sick, not one bit, but the incident gave me the luxury to contemplate about the other things I have in life.

Before Berta fell ill, I already made the decision that I was going to shift to a different course, BS CS => BS HRIM. But that didn't mean I didn't have a hard time adjusting to a life without my computer. Berta isn't just a computer, she is my computer. I don't want to go into the details, it's a long story. But it's clear that I spent a couple of hellish months after Berta was drawn away from me to be nourished back to health.

I learned how to live without depending on Berta and the Internet. I learned how to eat with a plate on a dining table again. I became friends with sleep again. I realized I needed to spend more time with my friends. And I was able to focus on my studies. While Berta was in the process of healing, I was organizing the details of my life, to where they should have been a long time ago. Berta wasn't there to distract me.

I found a job. Wherever Maturity was hiding all these years, I wasn't sure, but I was pretty glad he decided to surface. I stopped toying with time and opportunities.

In fact, I got sick for a couple of weeks with Chicken Pox, but I passed all of my subjects. If Berta was present during that time, virus plus Berta would've meant disaster. History could've repeated itself again. My life would've officially adapted the title "The Cycle of Failing."

I was getting the hang of being happy. I even tried to deny that I was actually almost contented.

I was getting the hang of getting good grades. And they were getting better. Even though I still failed a couple of exams, my performance was better compared to that in my previous course.

Gathering all those things up, I was learning how to become a better me while Berta was away, and I didn't fail at it.

Now that Berta is back, I'm starting to feel that I'm returning to my old habits. Heck, I now even start brushing in front of the computer. But it'll be some time before I completely adjust to having Berta again.