Didn't the polar bears get it wrong?

Just when exactly did watches come with wings?

It took me a long time to realize that next week is finals week. My YM window was my sole cue: all of my contacts who are also taking up Communication Arts, but are outside of the block, all have been screaming "we're busy, can't you see?" in one way or another, at some point last week. Of course, my blockmates are screaming the same thing within the past three days or so - the class suspensions, holidays and weekends gave us a surprisingly long stretch of time to play with, to work on research proposals, film reports and papers. (Although, as far as I know, the weather was no advantage for those doing their photo essays. It simply meant underexposed photos and no way to develop them.)

Then again, I never felt harassed. or, probably, it'll all come to me when tomorrow comes, when I step into the campus again and get a much-needed reality check. For starters, there are two readings for print class, thanks to the suspension. Then, there are our film notes for film class - thankfully I've printed out six before Friday, and then we weren't with electricity for merely two hours, not two days. The day after, I've got a photo shoot (yes, for our dramatic reading in Literature 2 class) which basically relies on the characters wearing their costumes and Dhi bringing her DSLR. On Wednesday, there's the waiver I'd have our subject Vladimir Bunoan to sign - then again, I haven't gone to John's place for transcribing the apparently muffled video, which reminds me of that adage in class that time goes against memory, or something like it. Oh, and also, there's that research paper for broadcasting class, which meant me watching television (and seeing the same things, which was some sort of epiphany) for two hours straight before actually getting bored.

But I'm surprised I'm not, well, harassed. Two-thirds of my classmates are going through something else. Aside from photography, there are the film reports for those under Sir Groyon - I can't get to Y2K's status message for she's just logged out - and then there are those under Miss Diaz, whose research proposals are due this Tuesday. Not that I'm blaming the teachers or anything - then again, their reputations cannot be denied - but somehow I realized that I cannot relate to everyone so suddenly. I live in this certain fragment of the world, getting everything at the same time, but not everything, really.

And next week is finals week. Oh goody. Most of us must be happy about it, with three weeks or so of zero requirements coming almost shortly afterwards. (We'll have to go back to school, however, to pay our tuition for next term.) Somehow I think some of us have apparently pigeonholed majors to this term - a handful have complained of a lack of sleep, or a lack of physical beautification, or a lack of human contact, and yet we never realize that this is all just the tip of the iceberg. We'll dig deeper through the iceberg, doing more things - and, of course, since icebergs are situated at the Atlantic Ocean, we'll surely drown in chilly waters.

Then again, we aren't really digging icebergs. We're digging through mountains, which means solid rock more than possibly melted ice.

But all the things we've done meant time has indeed learned to fly. It's no longer relied on its mother for worms - what a metaphor, that was - and then we're all shocked, possibly, to see that it's all over. Rush to rest, to bed, to slumber for eighteen straight hours and then we wake up and see our in trays dumped with an actual SLR. Gotta go to work. Wham, bam, boom.

Sometimes I really wonder whether our watches have started to run faster. You know, with all the sugar I was probably taking, not to mention my having ADHD, it must've probably rubbed off my watch and made it more hyperactive. Weirdly, though, I sometimes look at my watch and notice that the second hand stops for two seconds, and I think my watch must be broken. Or, probably, tired at all the rushing and running we have done.

We're digging through mountains sooner - snowcapped, gold-endowed, eroded, dormant volcanoes even - and we'll definitely get out of it equipped with scars, digging equipment, practicality and more scars to go out in public with. In the future we'll humiliate ourselves, or be controversial, or be the next big thing in making people controversial, or maybe we'll become twits without a job. Then again we still have the scars to talk about, and people will definitely learn at some point.

I, however, am still amazed at how quick things can happen. I mean, probably I picked this entire crazy idea for an entry up from reading Ranice's blog and going "whoa, these things happen?" but for me, things happen all too slowly. Or it could be me and my perspectives. Maybe you find things too rushed, or too demanding - that, it's definitely mine as well - but that's diversity at work. And conflict. And I risk not making sense again, after I've veered off topic.

But I guess that's what time does. You also tend to forget your very train of thought and realize that you have to start working, or else you lose your very opportunities. So, after all this senseless rambling, I shall start on our annotated bibliography, then I'll say that we all deserve a vacation.

Oh, and one that's still wired with reality.

And your responses...

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