itsa-man-duh

[itsa-man-duh]

I hesitate to open the door to my soul

I fear that once I do,

I will not recognize it anymore

[itsa-man-duh]

I felt heard for the first time in a while and it was such a relief. I feel like the weight on my shoulders just rolled off and I could breathe again. Being assured that I was allowed to enjoy something without the fear of the consequences moved me to tears. It feels so nice to be heard and given assurance rather than given advice that feels like reprimanding.  

[itsa-man-duh]

Remaining as strangers

People watching. We unconsciously do it. We would randomly see someone walking down the street or that one person on the bus with us and we wonder, “What kind of life are they living?” We contemplate about what could possibly be going on with their lives. “Are they going to work? What kind of job do they do? Are they married? Single? Do they have kids? What life choices have they made” We think of endless possibilities regarding their life. But reality strikes us, as they are walking away from us, that we would never get the answer to those questions. They would remain to us as strangers that we are never to remember. We won’t even give them a second thought again in our lives. The possibility of encountering them again is slim. It’s a strange feeling to have when that realization dawns on us. We wonder about other people and ask questions we might never get the answers to. That we would forever remain as strangers who would never cross paths again. 

[itsa-man-duh]

Try to keep up or go on my own pace?

Has there ever been a time in your life that you feel that life is moving a little too fast for you? Everyone around you is progressing forward and you’re lagging behind? That’s what I have been feeling lately. I try not to get too caught up and compare myself to other people because everyone’s accomplishment looks different. Maybe it’s all in my head. Maybe it’s me making excuses and not trying to progress my life. It’s scary to go into situations that’s out of my comfort zone. The need to be perfect at one try isn’t expected but at the same time it feels like it’s to be expected from me. The pressure that I put on myself when I know that nobody expects for me not to make mistakes but I fear the simple mistakes that I make would actually result into something catastrophic like a butterfly effect. It might be insignificant now but what if later than the line it leads to a disaster beyond fixing? That thought by itself is terrifying me and makes me try not to do anything in my life that can actually help me move forward. Should I try to make risks and learn from these mistakes? Or should I keep it safe and try to do things on my own pace to minimize the potential damage?

[itsa-man-duh]

Finding motivation again

Just had attended my first meeting with the head supervisor for interns. It was simply a technical meeting and I still haven’t been interviewed yet with my assigned supervisor (still waiting for an interview schedule) but it was so exciting to finally be doing something productive. For the past month, I’ve been resting and waiting for news about the internship. I got my needed rest since I was still busy during my academic break because of our thesis paper so this month was somewhat my delayed academic break. Doing nothing was great and all but I started to feel restless. I tried doing some hobbies but I got bored out of it quickly. What I needed was a purpose to do something and I feel like I finally found it again. I’ve started volunteering in my student organization and trying to be more active in this blog. I even started picking up some old projects that I’ve been putting off. It just feels good to do something again. 

[itsa-man-duh]

Experiencing familiarity

I was watching a YouTube video by the channel Schnee and they were trying to find out why tragedy is beautiful (in the context of story telling). They were explaining in the first half of the video by trying to explain what “beauty” is. They realized that the way we use “beauty” is very subjective and is not the same in every situation or circumstance that we use it. They sought out to find the pattern on how we define “beauty”. Their quest to find what the general definition of “beauty” based on what they gathered from people’s responses got me thinking what I defined as “beautiful”. It didn’t take me even for a second to describe what beauty is to me. Beauty to me is my perfect afternoon or the feeling I get when I realize that I’m in the moment of my perfect afternoon. My perfect afternoon is a warm sunny and quiet afternoon in my home. I could be sitting in the kitchen, lounging in the bedroom, or watching TV in the living room and I would still get the same feeling when the realization hits me. That got me thinking, was there any other situations that made me feel the same feeling of my perfect afternoon? I started to list down other situations or moments in my life when the feeling of “perfect afternoon” hits me. It’s not always in my home. It happened while I was in class listening to the teacher. It happened when I’m having lunch out in the hallway. It happened while I’m walking on my way home. I started thinking what really makes my “perfect afternoon” and why do I find it so beautiful? And then it hit me. My perfect afternoon is when I started to become aware of the moment.  When we experience, do, or feel things a hundred times already, we’re already familiar with it to the point that it doesn’t faze us. But what I find beautiful is experiencing the familiarity as if I was experiencing it for the first time in my life. I stare at the same old ceiling every time I get up in the morning but when something inside me just clicks in me, the same old ceiling feels unfamiliar to me and I get to experience and appreciate waking up and seeing that ceiling as if I just saw it for the first time. It’s the sudden stop and slow sinking feeling of awareness of things that turns into to calm and appreciation. Like watching a scene from a movie but it’s your reality and you’re living in it. Of course not every sudden awareness of the situation would elicit the feeling appreciation after it happens. I think in my situation I just happen to subconsciously choose the moments of familiarity to be aware of and appreciate it all over again. Maybe it’s just me but I find that experiencing familiarity is beautiful. 

[itsa-man-duh]

Things I used to love

The more I reminisce about the past, the more I realize that I have let many things go, especially things that I used to love. I love reading and I still do. But I loved books more than anything. I would read all kinds of books. I would read anything that I could get my hands on. From textbooks, novels, children’s books, self-help books, cookbooks, you name it; I will probably read it if you hand me a book. But as I get older and gain more responsibilities, I find myself not picking up a book as often as I would when I was younger. I remember when I was in grade school, I almost always visited the library to borrow a book or two. I was a fast reader so I was able to finish a 200 page book in an afternoon. I found joy looking through the shelves of the library and reading the summary at the back of the book and be intrigued of the plot that it promises. Now I just read things like articles, scholarly works, scientific journals, not for pleasure or interest but because it’s expected of me. 

I also had to let go of my love for writing. I used to write stories, poems, and essays for fun. I found joy in writing. Using my imagination to conjure up a fantastical world that I could live in. A world that I could escape in even if it’s just temporary. I wrote poems that conveyed my emotions in pretty rhymes that felt true and sincere. I wrote essays for ideas and thoughts that I wanted to share unto to the world. Writing was giving a part of myself in words that anyone could read and maybe empathize with. The things that I have been writing for the past few years now are academic writing like research, thesis, and academic essays. If I wrote anything creative, it was most likely for a requirement rather than for enjoyment. I want to be able to pick a pen or a pencil and a random piece of paper and just write whatever is on my mind. I guess this blog is an attempt of that but I hope that this will eventually rekindle my love writing once more.  As I’m writing this down, I realize that a lot of things I used to be passionate about were things that were creative and/or personal to me. I wasn’t good at drawing but I loved doodling. I did sketches of random things. I would draw “creepy” (or so people tell me) things or creatures that were a manifestation of my emotions or my feelings at the time that moment. I even drew a simple character that I believe what my depression would look like if it had a physical form.  All of these things that I loved and let go were a part of me. I had let go of who I used to be. A part of me that I loved. Maybe that’s why I’m so lost now. I had forgotten who I was and loved. I think I want to meet them again and I want to know them once more. I want to fall in love with the version of me when I was the happiest. 

[itsa-man-duh]

Rambling

It’s nerve wrecking when change is happening. They say change is good. But whether change is good or not is subjective, right? Sometimes the status of change being good or not is not just subjective but circumstantial. Change is good for some people because it benefits them and the same change could be bad for others because it puts them in disadvantage. Even if there was change, the lives of other people aren’t really affected because the said change doesn’t make any impact to them at all. 

But sometimes change is simply scary. Whether it’s good or bad or it doesn’t make an impact at all, the idea of something changing is scary. I’m at the point of my life when change is inevitable. I’m graduating soon and I’m looking for places to intern. The idea of leaving the comfort of school and trying to survive the “real world” is terrifying. Am I mentally ready for the change? Will I be able to contribute to society? I’m starting to reflect on my life choices and I’m wishing that I did things differently. I’m starting to wish that I was more active in school, that I took on more opportunities, didn’t hold back on things I genuinely wanted to do because I told myself that I was not good enough or I was being a burden. 

I’m trying to change myself now but is it too late for me? I tried doing this blog to help me improve my writing and maybe rekindle my love of writing. I even challenged myself to do a week of just writing but even that was too much for me. I’m just so cowardly sometimes. Small inconveniences lead me down to a spiral. I tried being serious when I was younger and I tried to relive my innocence that I took away from myself as I grew older. Now I’m at a limbo of things. I changed myself too many times that I’m not sure who I am anymore and I think because of that I’m scared of change. I’m simply at lost on what to do. I feel like the more confused I am, the more impulsive I get. I should be rational but the rational part of me is making me even more anxious of the change that’s about to happen.  I just hope that I’ll be able to embrace the change that will happen or at least be able to co-exist with it. 

[itsa-man-duh]

Perception of time

Time is super weird. Specifically, how we perceive time is super weird. 10 minutes doesn’t always feel like 10 minutes. Waiting in line for 10 minutes is super slow while napping for 10 minutes feels super fast. Depending on what we’re doing in a certain amount of time, it changes how we perceive time. Time moves fast when we’re procrastinating, having fun, or sleeping. On the other hand, time moves slow when we’re doing nothing, waiting for something, or feeling sad. It’s even weirder how we can change our perception of time by dividing it into chunks. Let’s say class ends at 5:00 and it’s currently 4:30. Waiting for 30 minutes until the end of the class sounds so far away. So how do we change our perception of time to make it go faster? We divide it into chunks. 30 minutes? Let’s say we can wait for 10 minutes. There are 3 chunks of 10 minutes in 30 minutes. That means we just need to wait for 10 minutes three more times until the end of class. By dividing time into chunks, it becomes more manageable in our minds even if the amount of time we need to wait doesn’t really change. It’s fascinating how we are able to manipulate ourselves and the perception of time so time moves slower or faster.

[itsa-man-duh]

First blog post

Hi!

This is just an intro for my first post on this blog. I decided to create a separate blog for my thoughts, personal feelings, daily life, and anything in between really. I wanted to get back into writing and I want to try writing something different from what I usually write. I’ll try to do one post a day for the next seven days to get a hang of it. Looking forward to do this and hoping this will be a consistent thing.