Being shit is relative. As long as something has been written, something can be understood, there is nothing that needs forgiveness in your first letter. Thank you for starting this experiment with me.
I only slightly envy your afternoon at Dahilayan. I am intrigued, but I will not press for further details on your mysterious companions. Unlike you, I didn’t get a proper summer vacation this year due to summer classes, but I have been to Dahilayan. My mother, sister and I took the adventurous side of the park and went on different dangerous rides and adrenaline-pumping zip-lines – to which I shan’t forget my mother’s loving voice as we plummeted head-first from a ridiculous height. I have heard of the Salisbury steak, but I haven’t had the pleasure of trying it myself, I’ll take your word for its goodness until such time I can see for myself.
I think I know a few like-minded people who can engage in a discourse on misplaced exoticizing – correct me if I’m wrong in the summarized idea because I don’t know enough about the issue to make an educated response. Another Salisbury steak, where I’ll take your word for it.
For me on the other hand, I’m dealing with pre-semester anxieties. My sister Marrie perfectly illustrates the short week of a vacation that I have in the photograph above where she aimlessly lied down on the floor, facing a shelf full of books that I can’t indulge myself to read for hours at a time. My notebooks are starting to get labels, my planners are updated, I’m rehearsing and micromanaging my planned daily routine, and excessively cleaning my room. It sounds tedious, but it’s a calming and mind-numbing tediousness that I endure to avoid thinking of loads, revisions, and professors. All the while, just sorting through the nooks and crannies of a room I have treated as a dump of my collective memories, removing the ones that are of no use to me and organizing papers that I plan to immortalize somehow, someday.
I even found the write-up and the certificate I got from the high school journalism seminar we once attended together. You’ll be happy to know that the essay was a royal embarrassment that I both love and loathe to this day. I kept it for posterity reasons. But reading that again, I realized a few things:
- I sucked.
- If I can say that I sucked then, it makes sense that I must’ve improved somehow.
- I am finally going to learn the craft soon.
- I’m two years away from graduating.
Yes, I know that last thought doesn’t compare to being a year away from graduating, good luck with that – but as an excessive thinker, it matters to me. I don’t know how I’m going to pull off my goals as always during my pre-semester jitters but one can hope that in the practice of thinking of all the ways this could go badly, I’ll be able to handle myself if or when things get worse.