some of my old entries

My room isn’t clean yet, my whole academic life is on probation, the freaking fan isn’t working and I’m turning 19 next week. Yes, I have a very sunny life ahead of me. I’ve lived 18 years of existence and I couldn’t maintain “order” inside a 3 cubic meter that could pass off as a prison cell, what is that? I tried to pursue a science degree that I knew was difficult; but went ahead because I thought “What the heck, it’s chemistry, I aced it in junior high!” Huh! Who would’ve thought UP chemistry isn’t a joke to be laughed at? I don’t know a thing about appliances so let’s not go there. Hell, less than a week and I’m 19. Wow. Others might be looking forward to the idea of being in that age, but not me. Everything’s different in my case. To others it’s independence, later curfew hours, more gimik nights and increasing allowances; but not me.

I don’t know what’s wrong with growing up, but I’m dreading it so much. Gone are the days when I used to dream of that 18^th candle, so I can enter R-18 movies. It’s a different ballgame here, you can vouch me on that.

With all the changes that surround growing up, and all the responsibilities piling up on my shoulders, how do you think will I rate in this test called growing up?

The freaking room may be an example of a failure, because it’s one thing that I’ve tried working on. There are stuff waiting to be cleaned, or even just placed to the laundry hamper; but I don’t seem to have it stapled in my mind to do so. I did some thinking and did I get some answers! I have a thing for mugs, glasses or whatever drinking stuff. I, myself have no explanation about this, but I guess that somehow explains some. And then I thought, maybe I’m just preparing myself for the future, only in an ugly way. You see, both my parents are abroad and I’m the only child. I’m staying right now at my mom’s parents’ house with other relatives. Ever since we were little, my cousins-all of them, for Christ’s sake- have had this stubborn manner of “borrowing” stuff from each other, including me, without proper permission. I am a man who believes in property. And I just realized that when the time comes that I have to move out, I’d have no problem figuring what’s mine to get. Selfish, yes. But foolish? No. maybe it’s just that my mom taught me well about this thing. But still, I have to practice that chore called c-l-e-a-n-I-n-g.

I must admit, it’s all my fault why my grades are digging their own graves. After being granted a non major status, I went boom! Now half my grades are failures, I just wish that the grades for the past academic year won’t reach my mom’s hands. I thought I’d make it well. But then science was not my cup of tea. Not ever. With my grades falling like a 300-pound bungee jumper, how the hell am I supposed to be allowed to shift to another course? Of course God has the answer. I hope I’d be admitted to an Arts and Letters course. I really love to write! I am no Carrie Bradshaw, Celine R. Lopez or a Pablo Neruda but I’ll try to be one! And I’ll try to be myself!

Oh. Another day had passed. It’s already 12am. I have 5 days more and I’ll be one of those adults you call. Please, no questions about maturity! It’s a totally different subject. And deeper at that. Imagine, a 19-year old who isn’t sure of graduating the year next! But hey, this is my life. This is what Providence arranged for me. But honestly, I hope it isn’t. Because it’s actually nice to know that I have a hand in weaving my life. And so far? I’m enjoying it, pass or fail!