Oh, February. You lasted for like, 3 days.
I didn’t expect the thrust of this month to be towards creating; but it was. I’ve been writing everyday, working on different things – a commissioned documentary, several radio scripts for school, essays, several lay-out stuff for church – as I rattle all these to you I realize how exhausting it must have been. How did I get here. As of writing I still have four speeches to make. How come I don’t run out of words
Although, the past weeks showed me how I tend to write about the same things over and over again, like nothing new ever happens to me. Because maybe nothing really does. Maybe this is the waiting area.
The other day I passed by our college’s office and saw the list of the Candidates for Graduation. I saw my name on it. The first name up top. I remember looking at a similar list last year and not finding my name. I remember the void that swallowed me after that. When I finally saw my name the foremost emotion was relief. Finally. The waiting room had been dreary and dark most days. A prison more than a hall.
If I can have it my way, I would graduate without so much of an announcement, or a celebration. Without so much fanfare. I even contemplated not attending the graduation ceremony (because I found out you don’t even have to). But the look in my mother’s eyes, oh God. She’s probably the happiest. Or the proudest. The past four and a half years stripped every single ounce of life (and maybe joy) in me and I feel disdain towards the piece of paper I’m gonna receive in a few weeks. But my mommy is proud of me. That gives me life, you know. Helps me show up to things I don’t want to.
I really did turn into this pessimistic, tired girl. It’s not a surprise. I wouldn’t know what to do with the diploma that says I made it, because I didn’t, to be honest. I had to be carried through it. I am grateful my God accepts my offering, even my delayed diploma, and He makes it beautiful. Wow.
I’ve had interesting experiences this month too. After a long time I was hired to be part of this shoot, where I fainted twice because the location was not properly ventilated. The crew took care of me but I was so embarrassed. They’ll probably never hire me again. Haha. (Although the director messaged me today about some follow up work, which remains to be a good sign).
This post does not really have an outline or a flow, I’m sorry. I’m just rattling things off as I remember. I wish I was a good storyteller but I’m still working on that.
By the way. Last monday I had another one of those things they call an “emotional breakdown” because I felt disqualified from many things. It is so hard to keep believing in the dreams optimist Krizia used to believe. See, I’m talking about the same things. I’m settling into monotony. Why, am I allowing this, given that my God is a Colourful God. I do not know. If I had the answers I’ll share them to the rest of the world.
Oh. I also wrote a song this month. And a poem, which I performed. It was bad. The song was good because someone helped me write it. I’m kinda glad nobody was listening when we performed. My friend told me she was sure my poem was gonna be good. I feel bad that my friends are watching me disintegrate in the things I used to be good at. They root for me, you know. They’re gonna run out of reason one day and we’ll start referring to me in past tense. I dread that most days.
I wonder what March holds. I hope it is kind.