Like humans do

If anything, my sixth first week went by. Indeed, it's weird to have all my floating subjects on three days a week, a three-hour class each on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and a long break in between spent doing nothing but trying to think about what else to do. To be honest I only stepped in an Internet café, out of desperation, once, and only because my classes are long over, Ariane delayed her video shoot, and Ranice wasn't coming by to give the calculator back.

Yet I can't help but have itchy feet. After a term of getting dumped with requirements from the very first day, the start to this term feels very weird. However it's still very evident that everyone I know are up to something; just today a few surprises have been pulled out, one way or another. For one, our bulletin board suddenly changed, and the next thing I know the decorations made out of crepe paper that Yas and I worked on two terms ago are now gone, replaced by another tarpauline image.

And I wonder how it is to juggle things around. Indeed I was having itchy feet over nothing, but it is a well-known fact that almost everybody I know are busier than I am. And surely they've started, and are probably having enough problems about juggling recommended extra-curriculars and much-needed majors to the point that they're not mentioning it because it's all too obvious. At one point, for example, I wondered how our representatives do it; now that it's all stagnant, (which isn't surprising since it's barely the first week) and with one suddenly up to something else, it's gone very obvious. Majors have indeed started to take a toll.

I'll admit, I still worry. For one, I still do not have an SLR camera, or even film, for Tuesday's photography class. I'm confused over how I should do my concept paper for radio production class. I'm torn between spending my breaks doing anything substantial, and yet today I sat around with Meg pondering about the exact things I've just typed in.

And I myself realized that typing in my initial impressions are pointless. I mean, suddenly those things don't matter, probably because nobody would be able to keep track of these things anyway. At midday, for example, Christina was worrying about video production class, Caresse was worrying about photography class, and Marcia was worrying about her research topic, and they've all asked me. As for me, although I did grasp for something to say, it'll get thrown out of the window nevertheless. And I'm getting used to being sleepless again, although my fingers have been busier changing radio stations than typing in some requirement, and it just all adds up to my vulnerability.

We're simply humans. Eventually we'll need a haircut, a color change, maybe surgery. We've probably passed for making things look normal, although that can't be considered for anything. Dig deeper, and you'll realized - as I've realized first-hand this week - that we're all but what we used to be. We're not really surviving - maybe we are, but merely on a thread, unless if we probably get used to it all. If only we can zap it to completion, but we're obviously not superheroes.

This week I feel very vulnerable. It seems that, aside from the usual adjusting pangs (which come and go quickly than before), there's the kind that makes you wonder whether you'll really get through. I still can't relate, and feel so affected by it. I did some lingering around and got pissed off for waiting. I spotted some people and got ditzy to the point of wanting to twirl a finger around. I got itchy fingers before realizing another photo concept wouldn't work. And today, if it would just hurt a bit more, when we changed seats for history class I found myself saying goodbye, inevitably, to my seatmate for two meetings, (another) Tracy.

Call me sort of depressed. Maybe it's got to do with growth pangs, but that's my best excuse. Chatting with Liz last night, when she found herself not telling much because obviously we still don't know each other, I realized that all along I've still been stuck in my own perceptions of the world. And it probably will get longer, except if I start looking for new things to distract me - and they probably will. All the vulnerability just has to co-exist with me. Or maybe, it's the other way around, for it's got me strangled.

Yet again I'm hooked on a rediscovered song, and while listening to it again today I realized that, well, things like these are all very normal. When David Byrne started going in that direction I know he's talking my talk - I'm aching, I'm shaking, I'm breaking like humans do.

But, really now, do we just have to?

And your responses...

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