Kilig moment is kilig. <3

I am so tired.

Tired enough to not rant about it, even when I want to. :(

My pillow is yours ♡

Academic interest, pop culture prowess, conversations deep into the night (morning). You make my dreams come true!

Tu donnent de la joie et chagrin.

Plus de chagrin, en fait.

You build on failure. You use it as a stepping stone. Close the door on the past. You don't try to forget the mistakes, but you don't dwell on it. You don't let it have any of your energy, or any of your time, or any of your space.

Johnny Cash

Dream League

Dear space,
I am committing to this. Next sem, I will kick ass. Please believe in me.

Love,
Optimistic, determined kid

Post Mortem

There are days when this little soldier must face up to her biggest opponent, admit her myopic mistakes, and learn to accept the truth. Today is one of those days.

I finally decided (really) that acads must always always ALWAYS come before my artistic pursuits. I realized I took on too many projects this sem; I don't know if I can save my GWA from this mess but I am sure it's an experience I will not forget anytime soon: not with the NMAT looming in the very near future, not with med school-or-job clawing at my prospects of becoming a doctor before I turn 30 (yeah, realistic shit tend to hit you hard in the solar plexus). Not with the rest of my life on the line, dammit.

To be fair, the semester's not yet over. But with five or six more exams in the next fourteen days and deadlines for the art projects I am currently working on announcing their dominance over what little time God gave us mere mortals, it takes a lot of courage to juggle everything while trying very hard to refrain from eating people out of frustration and anxiety and fatigue and sadness and disappointment and pain. Projects that demand too much effort and end up turning out half-cooked (or half-burnt) crowd out the time I should be spending falling in love with my major and maintaining my chances at med school.

If this goes on, I have inflicted upon myself the chronic suffering and eventual death of my doctor dreams. The RSA will keep me two more years, and by the time I complete my service I fear the very probable reality of having all the opportunities taken away. Art is something selfish at the moment:  I crave, I cave, I satisfy my immediate need, quench my lustful thirst for beauty and poetry and idea abstraction. But what of the commitment to serving the underserved? What of the duty to fellow Filipinos who were born with the right to health and sufficient sustenance? What of the dedication to the cause of universal health care provision?

The Universe wants me to make a decision, so here's my reply.


Hay. Life must go on.