miles to go before I sleep.
Mar. 30th, 2009 10:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
levityWell, one or two, maybe. But miles nonetheless. XD
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I didnt know that there was such a thing as a mark of a PSHS chaplain. XD
Much as I complain about the weather and walking around in high heels with disintegrating cork paddings and clearance and the time it takes for the College of Med to release the Intarmed interview results and Andrew Ale Fajardo, the fact remains that they managed to do something that two and a half days of Terry Pratchett could not, and that is turn the girl I have been trying to deal with for the past week back into the girl who wants to live forever because the next world is nothing like this one and this one is all shades of awesome.
It looked like a wedding, our baccalaureate did. Theres something about an altar white chairs and falling flowers and a garden setting and sunlight falling like golden syrup over the grass that inevitably reminds one of a wedding, never mind that the grass was soccer-field carabao grass and that the altar was under the goal posts.
Madam Perez always says a few words. Sometimes a few is too many.
Gians prayer I liked. It was more like a speech than it was like any prayer Ive ever heard. I suppose thats a good thing, if only because prayers get repetitive. (Then again, so do speeches. But still.)
We deserve an award for research- for holding the dual records of donating the most glassware to the STR Unit and (in one way or another) affecting the results of the rest of the batchs projects. I suppose the Unit decided that that would encourage students to sabotage either their or others projects, even though we are, by unanimous decision, the batchs most dedicated researchers. If given a choice Id pick the infamy over the awards, wouldnt you?
Why do people talk to us about the real world as though it were some abstract idea, like hard work or seriousness, that would hit us later on in life, whenever that later on in life might be? This is the real world. The anger the sadness the laughter the bitterness the triumph the pain the madness. You dont feel it later on as much as you do now. Later on everything will be diluted by the need for stability and a ready income and a sane family life and security. Later on you will be walking with your eyes closed, relying on what you know and what you have learned, no more shocks and no more expectations and no more waiting and hoping and believing in something so much youre willing to get an IR for it. Nothing you have learned is as real as it is while you were learning it, life lessons included.
Pisay. We cant leave it, not really. Because Pisay isnt just in the cluster of buildings and trees and overgrown grass somewhere along Agham Road (though it will never be quite the same without the distinct smell of the creek). Pisay is us- the classmates, the sleeping habits, the crammed homeworks, the lessons learned. No matter what you say, do, or learn, there will always be that small bit of Pisay- a teacher or a friend or a line from a math exam- hiding there at the back of your mind, ready to burst into song whenever you hear the word derive or see the car company logo that is shaped like a hexagon.
Graduation is defined in two ways- one is a ceremony during which people who have successfully completed a course are rewarded for their efforts, and the other is a marking on a container used for measuring volumes. Our graduation is tomorrow, and I only wonder who is doing the measuring.
---
I didnt know that there was such a thing as a mark of a PSHS chaplain. XD
Much as I complain about the weather and walking around in high heels with disintegrating cork paddings and clearance and the time it takes for the College of Med to release the Intarmed interview results and Andrew Ale Fajardo, the fact remains that they managed to do something that two and a half days of Terry Pratchett could not, and that is turn the girl I have been trying to deal with for the past week back into the girl who wants to live forever because the next world is nothing like this one and this one is all shades of awesome.
It looked like a wedding, our baccalaureate did. Theres something about an altar white chairs and falling flowers and a garden setting and sunlight falling like golden syrup over the grass that inevitably reminds one of a wedding, never mind that the grass was soccer-field carabao grass and that the altar was under the goal posts.
Madam Perez always says a few words. Sometimes a few is too many.
Gians prayer I liked. It was more like a speech than it was like any prayer Ive ever heard. I suppose thats a good thing, if only because prayers get repetitive. (Then again, so do speeches. But still.)
We deserve an award for research- for holding the dual records of donating the most glassware to the STR Unit and (in one way or another) affecting the results of the rest of the batchs projects. I suppose the Unit decided that that would encourage students to sabotage either their or others projects, even though we are, by unanimous decision, the batchs most dedicated researchers. If given a choice Id pick the infamy over the awards, wouldnt you?
Why do people talk to us about the real world as though it were some abstract idea, like hard work or seriousness, that would hit us later on in life, whenever that later on in life might be? This is the real world. The anger the sadness the laughter the bitterness the triumph the pain the madness. You dont feel it later on as much as you do now. Later on everything will be diluted by the need for stability and a ready income and a sane family life and security. Later on you will be walking with your eyes closed, relying on what you know and what you have learned, no more shocks and no more expectations and no more waiting and hoping and believing in something so much youre willing to get an IR for it. Nothing you have learned is as real as it is while you were learning it, life lessons included.
Pisay. We cant leave it, not really. Because Pisay isnt just in the cluster of buildings and trees and overgrown grass somewhere along Agham Road (though it will never be quite the same without the distinct smell of the creek). Pisay is us- the classmates, the sleeping habits, the crammed homeworks, the lessons learned. No matter what you say, do, or learn, there will always be that small bit of Pisay- a teacher or a friend or a line from a math exam- hiding there at the back of your mind, ready to burst into song whenever you hear the word derive or see the car company logo that is shaped like a hexagon.
Graduation is defined in two ways- one is a ceremony during which people who have successfully completed a course are rewarded for their efforts, and the other is a marking on a container used for measuring volumes. Our graduation is tomorrow, and I only wonder who is doing the measuring.
