Three hours.
That was an hour and half ago when I decided to face a clean sheet of
paper with fists clenched to my left temple. Now its 10:30 pm. Pen in hand, ink
is smudging where the pen meets my sweaty palms. All I have are scribbles and
creepy doodles, reflecting my mindset, it’s not even urgent let alone important
but I’m panicking over little things. Its 2 hours till february, 11 hours till
my self-imposed deadline on my essay, an estimated 10 seconds before I gulp
down this scalding hot cup of creamy latte, and about 63 years left of my
existence. And that’s about an hour of thinking gone to waste. Hooray.
(img:http://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/images/genieCheerleader_963.png)
I know this is my specialty, or at least a few of the little things I’m
ACTUALLY good at. But damn, 3 cups down, two sticks left in this pack of ten’s,
and an hour to go I still don’t have anything in mind. Looking up at the sky
hoping the famed red Marlboro would swoop in with it’s dashing cowboy hat and
give me a loyalty award, (oh red Marlboro I’ve been so loyal to you since my
pubescence!)
death in another form. (img:
http://timeentertainment.files.wordpress.com/2013/05/fictioninfluence_poll_marlboroman.jpg?w=260)
I’m counting down till my usual bedtime, adequately calculated so
I get enough sleep and still go to school punctually. Given it’d occur to me to
be actually punctual.
Actually It has, like a whispering voice with a good intent along with
all the “other” voices amidst my hazily chaotic consciousness, I heed it but
not with the appropriate actions concerned with it. And I am not crazy, mind
you, for hearing these voices in my head. For like the whispering voices you
see in cartoons, there is the angel, with its yellow halo, gentle blonde locks
complimenting its innocent face, cute white robe and wings, contrasted by the
striking, shining, golden harp by its left hand. And then there’s the devil,
with its oversized fork and sly goateed red face, and black locks giving way to
its grisly yet petite horns.
WOW. no wonder i'm this chaotic. (img:
http://www.postcardsfromapeacefuldivorce.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/Angel-vs-Devil.jpg)
Of course with my current predicament, you could hastily conclude I’d
been listening to the other voice. In a man’s life, it is not wise a decision
to be on a state of frequent ambivalence nor is it to tread on a certain path
lazily. Hence, you could say, me choosing my current path and listening to the
voice of my uncertainty was not the best conclusion I’ve come up with so far.
I admit too,
waking up so late I end up not eating breakfast just to attend a class, not to
mention classes attended an hour late and even ending up not showing up for
class at all. Paper works and projects past deadlines, last minute cramming,
and just being uneventful and inattentive for that matter.
But, the
feeling of teetering on the edge of utter failure and success, I owe to my
numerous beliefs, some of which I’d happily share, to be precise a saying: “Sin
is honoring desire above what you know is right. But never forget to seek and
see the marvels around you, you will get tired of self-concerns, and that
fatigue will make you deaf and blind to everything else.”
The clock ticks twelve and I’m out of
ideas. Although what I’ve presented you is just a random mess of thoughts not
even probable for a resume (with thoughts only subjecting me to a role of a
miscreant imbecile) I still feel it’s good, (good to look at atleast) and maybe
I can alike it to a doodle. It maybe a mess, but well, it’s nice to look at(and
in this case, read).
Symbolically, I feel like I have come to an
end to my rant as I proceed to put a period on my final sentence, counting the
words exceeding 500. Also counting, It’s a few months past me reaching my legal
age, it’s the second month of a new year and time sure isn’t gonna slow down.
Maybe try and be responsible already.
Maybe decrease procrastination, the
negative things and all that stuff.
Yet, as I walk irksomely with arms sagged towards the bed, I notice with my fatigued eyes my hands dirty, mostly with ink. At the same time I say to myself: “I’ve got to start with the small things” But, then again, I grin euphorically “maybe some other time”.
"Now that's a combination" -Iggy Pop (img:
http://www.mydiscountcigarette.net/gallery/default/original/13510/coffee-and-cigarettes.jpg?1303112216)
noys!
TumugonBurahin