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Giving up is definitely not the phrase I can identify myself with. For a girl who always looks at the brighter side of things, it’s very unlikely to hear me say, “I give up.” There are times in our life that we feel so down and we don’t know what else we can do especially when things don’t happen the way we want them to be. We feel so alone and helpless drowning in our pool of misery. There were times that I felt like this especially when I am so overwhelmed by the many tasks that I have to do and pressured to get things right all the time. When I fail, I break down and yes, tempted to give up.

When I finished reading Sarah Dessen’s latest book Along for the Ride, I realized a lot of things and one of those is that life is like learning how to ride a bike. You will encounter bumps along the way but it is part of the learning process. It’s okay to crash because you learn from your mistake once you get on the bike again. Nothing is right the first time. No matter how many times you fall, it’s alright. At least you tried and you worked hard. This book has become one of my favorites. It helped me realize that screwing up will always be a part of life. If everything will be smooth and perfect, life will not be challenging at all and we won’t enjoy it.

When you feel like giving up, ask yourself first “do I really have to give up?” Don’t abandon the ride Candy Girls! When you fail, it doesn’t mean that you’re not good enough. You just have to do better. Keep in mind that “if you’re not getting hurt, you’re not riding hard enough.” This quote from the book really stuck with me and it never failed to remind me to go on with my journey. So Candy Girls, always remember to get back on the bike and go along the ride of your life.

Jesselle

(I’ve never been one to stick with the rules, and when it comes to math, I’m not too keen on making exceptions. So when you asked us to basically write about the end of the semester, I decided to do it the way most things—business deals, relationships, etc.—usually start: with a letter.)

Dear Professor ________,

The University of the Philippines—it’s every student’s dream. And now that the first semester of my first year in college is drawing to an end, I would love to be able to say that I made a mark as a student. I would want nothing more right now than to look back on these past few months and see myself as the ideal student—the kind that always had her hand up in the air, always had insanely high scores, always came to class on time, always brought her Math I module, always raced to find the answers before anyone else. I wanted to be known by name, not just by my student number. I hoped to be the kind of student no teacher could ever forget.

But looking back, I can’t seem to see even a shadow of that ideal student. All I see is a student who, in between taking down notes and listening, paused every so often to a.) Whip out her phone and text nothing of actual importance or b.) Take a bite of whatever it was she bought from the cafeteria before entering the classroom. I remember crossing my fingers and silently praying that my index card would remain hidden in the pile so I wouldn’t have to recite in class. I don’t remember waking up on a certain Monday/Thursday and feeling all psyched and raring to get to math class. You can pretty much say I failed at becoming the student I thought I was destined to become. Despite all the fresh beginnings and resolutions to change, I let my biases against math get to me once again. My entire Math I class passed right through me.

But I guess that just about sums up the most important thing I learned in Math I which, coincidentally, has nothing to do with math—there are no ideal students. There are no factory-made, cookie-cutter-type students, only those who try their best and whose efforts are recognized, encouraged, and pushed further by their teachers. There is no predestination—you become your own “ideal student” by working through it day after day. I can honestly say that this is the first time I’ve ever actually thought of trying harder. I’ve been so used to taking the backseat when it came to math—I always let the others race ahead of me. But for some reason, Math I made me want to try harder. It challenged me to do better. Throughout the whole semester, I did my best to try and keep up with the rest of them. There were times when I felt I was at the top of my game, but there were also times when I was panting like crazy and struggling to keep up. I didn’t finish first, but I got to the finish line.

The truth is I will never love math. I will never look at a page full of numbers and feel thrilled or excited or challenged. I will never jump to my feet and be assertive when it comes to matters involving even the slightest bit of math. The “Oh-no,-math-again?” sigh I’ve perfected over time will never be replaced by a shout of glee. I will never love math, but what I can do is learn to appreciate it. I’d like to think I’m not a lost cause yet. One day, the light bulb in my head will go off with a *ting!*, and I know that that will be the moment when I finally get math. And when that time finally comes, I’m sure I’m going to remember the math professor who once told me that it was okay to fail—making him one that I would never forget.
I’d like to end this letter with nothing but happy thoughts and good wishes to you, Sir, but that would fall under “following the rules,” wouldn’t it? So instead, I’ll extend my greeting to your future students—I hope they realize how lucky they are.

P.S.
You once told us that, if by the end of the semester, we were able to look you in the eyes and tell you we did our best, you would be proud of us, regardless of the grades we’ve earned. Well, I hate to break it to you, Sir, but I’m not exactly sure if I did my absolute best. I can tell you one thing I’m sure of, though: not once during this semester did I think of giving up, because I knew I had a teacher who would not give up on me.

Last Sunday me and my friends joined the Unilab Run United for Wellness Marathon over at Fort Bonifacio. I actually never though that we would actually be running the marathon. I mean, I always wanted to sign up and join but I never got around to doing it. But with this marathon, I don’t know if it was because of the constant advertisement, or if it was the summer air going on, but for some twist of fate we decided to register and join in the marathon.

Nothing actually went according to plan. For starters, we only had the intention (and the strength) to register for the 3k marathon. But someone must have been pretty amused since 3k and 5k were already full, so… we ended up signing up for the 10k one. Yep, you got that right.

My friends slept over Saturday night so we could all go at the same time the next morning. We ended up waking really early but still, no matter how hard we try, we always seem to end up late for things. When we got there, it was still dark and the sun hasn’t risen yet. We were trying to look for the baggage area when we asked this lady for help. And as always, good fortune comes disguised in an old lady’s physical, and thanks to her we were only a little late for the start of the marathon.

Only just a couple of minutes into the start of the race when we suddenly burst into the start and ran our ass off. There was so much light and it was so blinding that I couldn’t see any of the spectators cheering for us on the sides—I prefer to think of it as cheering—and in a way it really made me confident to run my best.

I did run the 10k. Well.. half of it I ran, and half I jogged. But nevertheless! I still finished the whole 10k. I still can’t believe it though. It seems kinda hazy now that I think about it. Even though it was just the other day, I can’t seem to remember it now if it wasn’t for the resounding numbness in my calves and ankles.

Still, it really was worth the pain. And I can certainly say that joining this marathon really made my senior year memorable!

All love stories are the same.

You can be of a different gender, or a different sexual orientation, even. You can be old, you can be young, single, married, widowed, divorced, it’s complicated (ooh, trademark), what have you.

You can argue all you want, prove with a 1000-page essay just how much your love is different from the next person’s, how you have broken up and then spotted each other at the most unusual place 10 years later…

But love stories will still remain the same.

I can talk and talk and talk about how they’re all the same, but the cycle will never end. Some people choose to die for it, some people choose to live with it, select few choose to go for it.

Here’s Cheap Trick, summarizing all the innate desires of humanity (generally speaking, please don’t tell me I have to be PC at all times) a la twitter.

I want you to want me.
I need you to need me.
I’d love you to love me.

Basha and Popoy, together as they were, wanted each other to need each other the way they did, when they used to be so in love to each other. Mae longed for best friend Bogs, who was in love with someone else. And Yna, poor as she was, wanted RK (Rich Kid in non-street talk) Angelo. Or whoever Piolo Pascual played across Judy Ann Santos.

And if you don’t watch local movies/television (come on, they’re much more fun than your standard American rom-coms) that’s One More Chance, Paano Na Kaya? and Para Sa ‘Yo for you. I wish I could name love teams from the Nora Aunor, Vilma Santos, Sharon Cuneta era, but that would be stupid because I don’t think I’ve seen any movie of theirs which would just make me, well, pretentious.

Go foreign. Rom and Juls. Mario and Princess Peach. Mickey, Minnie, Donald Daisy. Problems start when they feel like they’re not wanted, not needed, not loved. Just a mere inkling pa lang ha.

Anyway.

If this were a thesis defense and my related literature is such, I would get grilled. But surveying people and airing out their stories is just too painful, I mean… why would I put their names, when instead, I can use the colorful ones, like Basha, Popoy, Bogs, Mae.

It’s all the same.

And no matter how bad they are, that’s precisely the reason why local romance movies and dramuuuu shows sell. Hell, even I watch them (not as religiously,though). I continue watching even if the last scene in Paano Na Kaya? made me cringe so bad (actually, 3/4  of the movie did). Restrained Lady Gaga in a funeral, hello.

Because hey. Even if won’t happen to me (yet), it’s much more better seeing it happen on the TV screen than just in my head.

All love stories are the same, but that doesn’t mean they end…well, the same.

You choose your own ending.

Now, I don’t mind imagining my head on Bea Alonzo’s body. Hellllloooo, John Lloyd.

Off to scour for more corny local flicks circa Guy & Pip,
Vicky

EXACTLY 3 DAYS ‘TIL SUMMER FINALLY ARRIVES.

Need I say more?

I’ve been really really busy lately with a lot of school work. So many last minute cramming to do, projects to submit, tests to ace, clearances to pass, recommendation letters to run after, and all in all I’m just waiting impatiently for finals to finish.

It’s the 3rd day of our finals week tomorrow, and we got 5 more to go.

I’m actually a little bit happy that I’m finally done with Physics (it’s the worst subject in the world, btw.) and that I can finally flush down every single bit of knowledge into my never-ending abyss of forgetfulness that can be found in the deep crevices of my unused mind.

Lots of people do say that junior year is the worst because a lot of colleges will be focusing more on your 3rd year grades more than anything, and a lot of pressure is on you to really study hard—something I desperately tried to do, but unfortunately ended up only trying.

I guess I’m a little relieved that after 13 long years of studying, I’m finally graduating and moving on to another huge chapter of my Life. Well, college is going to be a lot of studying too and I’m okay with that, but I guess I’m more excited about the fact that there’s more freedom, and that with this freedom I can get to expose myself to a lot more things in the world, and that I can really get to know myself more through these.

FREEDOM. I don’t know what’s up with the word, there’s something about it that really gets to me. I know that even when I get to college, get a job, or just be an adult there’s really not gonna be total freedom. But freedom from what exactly? Maybe freedom from the nagging voice of your mom, from your annoying little sister, from the responsibilities you hold as a teenager, from the busy sounds from the streets of Manila, from your job, from your studies, from happiness, from pain, from love, from feeling, from life, from being just who you are.

But most of the time we free ourselves from the wrong things. At first it may seem justifiable, but after a while we realize that there is no such thing as complete freedom. Maybe for a solitary moment though, but not completely.

But I guess it can be a good thing too, ‘coz most of the time we forget who we are in the process of trying to be someone we’re not, and in the long run we tend to let go of the past which binds us with the past, present and future of our soul. Sometimes not being free can be a good thing, and more often than not we get to figure ourselves more without letting go of the truly important things in life — not just for us, but for the people around us, too.

Anyway, summer’s all about chilling and just letting go. I can’t wait to spend what little freedom I have away from the hustle and bustle of Manila and just relax.

I do know what freedom I’m soon gonna have: Freedom from ever wearing a uniform and from waking up at 6!