Awake before the alarms

I wonder what Julia Campbell thinks of us now.

For some reason, I chanced upon her blog. And you all know what happened to her. Her very last entry had three hundred twenty-four comments, most posted days after her disappearance, and the eventual discovery of her dead body. I wonder what happened to her foster families in the two years she's been here. I wonder what happened to the suspect, and about his story of thinking that the person who bumped him accidentally is his bullying neighbor. I wonder what that bullying neighbor thinks of himself, if he is still alive.

I wonder why I decided to stay in DLSU just to wait for Chex to come.

I eventually spent an hour waiting, after I left the editing bay still without burning anything (because the half-minute clip I worked on just won't let itself copy to any DVD), and eventually, I decided to go home when another dead phone call made me realize that, well, we have obligations. And obligations is just the very thing that powers us lately. The editing bay is getting hotter and hotter every hour, either because there are a lot of people working, or because Mang Norms isn't opening the room thirty minutes into its supposed opening time. The equipment room is slowly losing to the lights, and so is my left shoulder, remembering the time when Naomi brought out a tripod, a dolly, three light stands and three redheads, only for them to be used as props, thanking circumstance. And as I may be surprised that I'm doing nothing at this moment - because, in part, I've finished editing two exercises by Monday and waited until the last minute to burn them to DVD - I may be living nonsense.

In our very first term in DLSU, Miss Bam kept on advising LR19 to join extracurricular activities. By then we were very much young and optimistic, so filling up the resumé never crossed our minds. True enough, we were joining clubs and not being active at them, except for a handful of people. Kevin, for one, didn't join anything, and probably hasn't joined anything up to now. It took me a year to get active at something, and it actually took other people's convincing (notably Jaja) to get me working on something other than academics.

I may not be proud of what my resumé would eventually list - it pales compared to, say, obviously, Stacy Carbonell's - but two years later, I'm okay with what I've done. It may not be a prerequisite, but, well, it is fulfilling to some extent. Yesterday I saw my posters being printed out - Reena promised to print them in glossy paper, and in fact it has cost her P600 - and then, there are still photocopies, and there are the SC logos I forgot to place, or nobody has reminded me to. But they're up already, and I'm looking stupid touching the photo paper copies and hitting myself because, well, that was my design, and most have been impressed.

The application of your talents for something else. Indeed.

Eventually they trust you for it. Reena didn't win the first time, and yet won (and took the presidency) the second time. And now I'm seeing her in philosophy class tending to survey forms and the aforementioned posters (but then again, the OCM people there are active, as opposed to the sleepers that I know). And if the only thing I could do is, probably, write stuff that people wouldn't even read, if only for the hope that someone will, then that's great news. Resumé filled up, nothing to lose, everything to gain.

I was listening to old radio airchecks while I was waiting for Chex. I spent an hour, and thirty-five bucks, waiting for a text message to come in a dead spot. They did, but they're incredulously delayed. More than an hour later, in the bus, we unintendedly set something for Friday morning. I kept my fingers crossed. I replied at home, at around seven.

Julia was eventually found in a shallow grave.

This entry is supposed to hit me in some way. I may have the time, but I'm not doing anything worthwhile. I just plug my earphones in and get isolated from the world. I may be doing something aside from what I really came to school for, but the intentions could be questionable. Who knows, maybe it's all for a spotting. And yet, "unconditional" remains a floating concept. Julia left the rat race in New York and lived with families in Donsol. She loved the fact that it's a coastal town. I still hate swimming. It never spurs me into action. I'll eventually still prioritize sleep over trying to understand what I just wrote.

They've apologized enough, in all three hundred twenty-four comments. In my thoughts, I'd probably do the same. For not doing anything, sana mapatawad mo ako, Julia.

And your responses...

i feel bad now

Anonymous Anonymous7/15/2007     

Post a Comment