My parents tell me that I used to read a lot when I was younger. I remember reading all the stories in our ginormous fairy tale book and other smaller versions of it. I read the stories in my older sister's English textbooks such as Basics and Beyond Reading and Open Roads to Reading. I even wished then to grow up soon so that I could have access to more stories which I thought were only for kids in grade school. By Grade 2, I already finished the Genesis and Exodus chapters of the Bible. Had I not been too bored with the statistics and figures presented in the Book of Numbers, I may have reached Revelations by end of Grade 6.
My entire elementary school life was spent on hurrying to finish my assignments because I know that my books are waiting for me. I was so fascinated with the characters and the magical kingdoms that I just cannot get enough of them. Those stories which transported me to places were the reason why I worked hard to learn to read soon, after all. It was a joyous childhood, especially because I tried to incorporate fiction with reality through the help of my playmates who didn't hesitate to take part in my role playing plans. They liked my stories as much as I did.
But then came high school. All of a sudden, I neglected my love for literature. Studying in Pisay and being separated from home at a rather early age, I felt like I had so many matters to attend to and therefore had no time for leisure anymore. Or so I thought back then. But my love for stories, luckily, didn't have to die a hopeless death. In sophomore year, I started writing my own stories. Not fiction, but accounts of my life. I religiously wrote in my journal, having more times for reflection than before. It seemed like I have been more perceptive, too. The imagination I used with books back when I was younger, I exercised in viewing life in a whole new lens. I continued my writing, but I sacrificed the reading. Just seeing one novel made me feel bored. My attempts to read again only sent me yawning and eventually rendering me asleep, nothing but drips of saliva left on the poor page.
It was a struggle. A real battle fought between my short attention span and my desire to bring back the spark. Futile, until this year.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Saturday, June 2, 2012
It's only yesterday when I found out that the names assigned to tropical cyclones always start with A each year, regardless if the last typhoon's name began with a 'P' or a 'W'. Of course I knew that they are named alphabetically according to the chronological order when they entered the country's area of responsibility--what's the sense of growing up in the province dubbed as Land of the Howling Winds if I didn't? But first typhoon of the year will always get names beginning with the letter A? I was clueless until now. Oh well, hurrah for the new trivia!I mentioned this because, first, you may not know about it yet and you might, for some odd reason, find this information useful and, second, because Ambo is currently passing through the country, thus the heavy rains and delay of flights. There's nothing that says "your summer is over!" better than 2012's first typhoon on the first day of June. A reminder that, in a few day's time, I will soon be in the city again--back to my study-habit experimentation and in my professors' mercy. But the vacation has done a mighty fine job because I'll be facing the city again with high hopes and motivation, hopefully enough to sustain me until it is time to go back home again.
As usual, this post will be a--surprise, surprise--overview of my vacation! Get used to it, there is no activity I do better than looking back (and writing lists!).
First weeks of April were happily spent with most members of my family. Papa and Mama were home. Ate Glad, Kuya Nel, Lianne and JJ were home. Joy was home. Gwen and Maine spent weeks in Virac since Andrei's birthday until they went back to Manila for Raph's 1st birthday. Ate Yeth and Zye came over for some weeks' visit too. It was really fun! We spontaneously hit the beach almost thrice a week, spent Easter over the farm by holding a picnic, and watched Pasyon with the kids. On Maundy Thursday night, I even experienced the longest bike ride of my life so far: Virac to Batong Paloay Church in San Andres. I was with Kuya Nel, Ate Glad and Joy then. Another milestone, hurrah!
|One of our planned beach outings: in Kinaw|
|With my girlies: Easter picnic at ze farm|
|Down to Luyang Cave: one stop during my longest bike ride ever|