As grade point averages slowly decline, I slowly settle into my position in the world. As I went home I started thinking about what probably went wrong. Sure, I became complacent, maybe too relaxed with presuppositions, but on the bright side, it's good when you're having fun once in a while. It's not that you're abandoning your express intent where you are.
The weird thing about this term is that, well, there doesn't seem to be any closure. Before sleeping last night I was etching out a scenario in my head as to who would appear in a future photo album. I'd start from one class, flutter to another, and probably end with seventeen snapshots of Mae doing the same pose in different parts of M206. Turns out that we would get our course cards for television production class earlier than expected, and through Miss Agnes. When everything was over, there were the friends I've made leaving for karaoke. I already had lunch alone - very unlikely on course card distribution day - and it feels very fragmented.
I don't know, but there seems to be a cruel sense of vindication surrounding all of us. It's as if everything culminated, but not entirely. Naomi was talking about how some finally became human after sweaty shirts came on the most unlikely of people. Sara was happy to get on the dean's list, and on the first honors at that. Danggay got herself on the list for the first time, and was very giddy minutes after the realization passed. As for me, well, I'd always tackle different things.
Obviously Miss Trini was unhappy with giving us low grades for video production class. I got a 2.0, and probably most of the class, except for Naomi; her summer training gave her a 3.0, an unlikely advantage, one oft-unnoticed thanks to her friendliness and her hair. That's one. My GPA is sliding closer and closer to the edge and next term seems another opportunity, potentially to be missed, to bounce back on the averages. But, on the other side, making absurd projects, like that documentary, well, that's something already. The mere idea of interviewing people that you'd usually deny as a crush - insert self-serving references to, say, Fran - was more than a compensation to worry about sliding performances. I'd always say that each term is a journey, a process of discovery, but it just doesn't seem complete.
Lessons from the past get applied in the present, and thus I've kept a lot from myself, most importantly. Obviously most don't know me for my, err, being very adventurous when it comes to friendships and whatever goes beyond, but somehow it took a back seat - and shut up - but stuck. Heaven knows how many issues there were.
But it's with the settling in, the belief that you have a spot in the world, and however much it may go at odds with what you imagine it to be, you've got no choice but to accept it. The only thing you'll do is, maybe, bring couches across, or face engineers with hypothetical tempers, or just mention it in passing. Thoughts do cross my head, I'll admit that. Maybe that counts for adventure. Who knows?
On a term that's without any conclusions, I nevertheless bid goodbye with preparations for the next one. Working on our thesis beckons, like a shudder on one's shoulder, and maybe we'd never have time to think of these things, but not to write them down. It's another change of routines. My term won't be Naomi's term, for one thing. I'll have to talk to Jason and Cuyeg more often. Maybe suppress - no, that's not the right term - leave emotions at the back burner. Be discreet. Maybe it'll fall from the sky like Danica and Bea imagined.
It's pretty much like, say, seeing Elaine today and not feeling a bit of anything. And then Naomi gets her photo edited for acne spots and all that. Maybe it's for the beach photos. One development for the planet's welfare, I guess.