Oh, I could hide 'neath the wings
Of the bluebird as she sings.
The six o'clock alarm would never ring.
But it rings and I rise,
Wipe the sleep out of my eyes.
My shavin' razor's cold and it stings.
Cheer up, Sleepy Jean.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a daydream believer
And a homecoming queen.
You once thought of me
As a white knight on a steed.
Now you know how happy I can be.
Oh, and our good times start and end
Without dollar one to spend.
But how much, baby, do we really need.
Cheer up, Sleepy Jean.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a daydream believer
And a homecoming queen.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
through the fire
I thought I'd elaborate on my previous post.
I am probably at one of the lowest points in my life. Sagad na sagad.
Unscientific and unsystematic. Those were his words. Sinong hindi manlulumo? One and a half years of work. One and a half years of sweat and tears, of uncertainty and hope, of desperation and a firm belief that "everything will be okay," of stressing and thinking and working my ass off. And what have these amounted to? Nothing, basically.
No encouragement from my adviser or support from friends can fill the void created by utter humiliation and a feeling of inadequacy, which has now returned in full, overwhelming force after a period of uncanny hiatus. As if it was just biding its time until I regained a little of my strength, so it could pull the rug from under me again.
I knew it was too good to be true, that confidence, that assurance I felt. Ah, self-doubt. Cunning little devil.
Now I can't even pick up the many million pieces of me strewn on the ground. I walked around listlessly yesterday, from the College of Architecture to Quezon Hall to god-knows-where, holding a lifeless umbrella with my lifeless hand, while tears flowed from my glazed eyes. Tiny parts of my soul fell with every step, as I realized that all my many million fears had finally come true.
Don't I deserve this degree? I think about it now, and it's easy to say yes, of course I do. I didn't feel the sheer joy of work for nothing. If I didn't deserve it, I wouldn't have gotten the nod of my professors at every turn I made, or the respect of other people for what I do or want to do. Right? This is my passion, my home, and if a degree is a small affirmation then I am going to get it, I deserve it.
But I don't know. Maybe I am a fraud, and I've fooled myself into believing I can be what I've wanted to be for three years running. Maybe everyone and everything around me are all part of this giant, magnificent farce set up to make me want something I cannot actually have. Mark says these thoughts are poison, termites that only need the tiniest crack in the wood to spread to unthinkable boundaries, and that I should stop feeding them.
But I am not as confident as he is, we both know that.
At the back of my mind I know things will turn out well in the end. Everything does. This is a challange, not a deadend. We are not given anything we can't handle and, as Shiva pointed out so long ago, God does not give us what we don't need. I also know that it's okay to inch along, as long as you're moving. Pero putangina, it's just so hard.
I am probably at one of the lowest points in my life. Sagad na sagad.
Unscientific and unsystematic. Those were his words. Sinong hindi manlulumo? One and a half years of work. One and a half years of sweat and tears, of uncertainty and hope, of desperation and a firm belief that "everything will be okay," of stressing and thinking and working my ass off. And what have these amounted to? Nothing, basically.
No encouragement from my adviser or support from friends can fill the void created by utter humiliation and a feeling of inadequacy, which has now returned in full, overwhelming force after a period of uncanny hiatus. As if it was just biding its time until I regained a little of my strength, so it could pull the rug from under me again.
I knew it was too good to be true, that confidence, that assurance I felt. Ah, self-doubt. Cunning little devil.
Now I can't even pick up the many million pieces of me strewn on the ground. I walked around listlessly yesterday, from the College of Architecture to Quezon Hall to god-knows-where, holding a lifeless umbrella with my lifeless hand, while tears flowed from my glazed eyes. Tiny parts of my soul fell with every step, as I realized that all my many million fears had finally come true.
Don't I deserve this degree? I think about it now, and it's easy to say yes, of course I do. I didn't feel the sheer joy of work for nothing. If I didn't deserve it, I wouldn't have gotten the nod of my professors at every turn I made, or the respect of other people for what I do or want to do. Right? This is my passion, my home, and if a degree is a small affirmation then I am going to get it, I deserve it.
But I don't know. Maybe I am a fraud, and I've fooled myself into believing I can be what I've wanted to be for three years running. Maybe everyone and everything around me are all part of this giant, magnificent farce set up to make me want something I cannot actually have. Mark says these thoughts are poison, termites that only need the tiniest crack in the wood to spread to unthinkable boundaries, and that I should stop feeding them.
But I am not as confident as he is, we both know that.
At the back of my mind I know things will turn out well in the end. Everything does. This is a challange, not a deadend. We are not given anything we can't handle and, as Shiva pointed out so long ago, God does not give us what we don't need. I also know that it's okay to inch along, as long as you're moving. Pero putangina, it's just so hard.
When I muster all the faith I've got in me, scraping the bottom of the barrel for hope and positivity, will that be enough? Or will I succumb to the same desolation I felt more than a year ago when I thought I was heading nowhere? How did I find my way back, anyway? I don't really remember, all I know is that I'm here now. I'm here, and all the little triumphs that punctuated my journey since then have now been run over by the same obstacle of a different face.
I honor my dragons, yes, but do I have the strength to face them, and walk away calmly after they've unleashed hell on me?
I have less than a month, barely four weeks to find out.
looking for the silver lining
"We must honor our dragons, encourage them to be worthy destroyers, expect they'll strive to cut us down. It is their duty to ridicule us, it is their job to demean us, to force us if they can to stop being different! And when we walk our way no matter their fire and their fury, our dragons shrug when we're out of sight, return to their card-games philosophical: 'Ah well, we can't toast 'em all..." – Running from Safety, Richard Bach
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