Summer Bummer
“That moment when you’re already sleepy, then ideas suddenly flow like a waterfall... but when you had lots of time, got no ideas. Rawr.”
That, ladies and gentlemen, is so true it could be my life mantra (except for the “rawr” of course). I’ve been trying to blog about something –
anything – for the past couple of days but got into nothing because, I don’t know, there’s just something about summer that eats our brain and leads us to a massive need for procrastination. I’ve been so desperate to feed my blog with sensible words that I even started asking people for worthy topics to write about. (“Write about electricity failure,” my niece said; “Write about us,” a vain friend of mine said.) I spent the whole day yesterday trying to squeeze my brain for some blogging capabilities I once had. It’s ironic, isn’t it? That it’s summer and I can have all the time I need but still
can’t blog? This is even worse than having classes. So last night, just as the moment I closed my eyes, these phrases just ran like torrent in my mind and it annoyed me so much I started slapping my forehead. Now I’m trying to remember those phrases and collect them together to compose a decent entry.
I thought, “Why not write about how lame my summer is?” But then I realized that it’s so cliché that it could lead to my losing of followers (which isn’t a lot). I asked someone on Twitter if writing about one’s self sounds egotistic. She said, “No, it’s your blog anyway.” Yes, it’s my blog anyway. And since I can’t write about the whole scientific reasons behind the power failure we experience in our place, and since I don’t give a
damn about stirring my sleeping memories of how I met my friends slash part-time band mates, yes guys, I will write about how lame my summer is. What else is there to write, really (well, aside from my unfinished essay about insecurities)? And why can’t we have a summer like these kids
here and
here? Smh.
The time flies so fast that, in just a couple of weeks, school will start again. While some find this extra depressing, most of us, especially those who can’t seem to focus on anything, regard this as good news. My summer, in particular, is so lame that I don’t want to do anything to make it less of a lame anymore. If lame is my summer, then lame it is. I spend my waking hours thinking what to do, but my laziness kills all my will and I’d end the day with an unfinished business and a gradually decaying body. I know, “we are the pilot of our own destiny”, but if our plane doesn’t have enough fuel and there’s nowhere to fly to, we’d ditch this pilot crap and resign from our work.
You may ask, “Why so pessimistic? What’s so bad with summer that you’d wish for school already?” Let’s see. I can give you all the reasons I can think of but that would take a lot of time (and I don’t want to have a really, really long blog post). But here, these are the reasons why my “summer” is becoming a “bummer”.
The heat. What’s summer without heat? Of course, summer should be hot so we could sunbathe clad in our bikini and brag our tans to our friends. But really, this heat is scorching everyone can pass out because of heat stroke. We’ve had enough of tropical-ness in this tropical country of ours. The heat isn’t
normal. Our little Summer Paradise is just one degree Celsius shy away from Summer Hellhole.
And the rain. How abnormal can our weather be? News flash: Global warming. Bipolar weather leads to bipolar people.
Distractions. A big problem of mine. When I was in school, I can at least write something for my blog once week. But now, there’s just too many interesting stuff to give my attention to, too many movies to watch, too many boys to stalk online. I can’t seem to focus on anything lately. I’d be all interested in one thing, but just one click in New Tab, the former interest will be a lost cause. Even my reading is affected by distractions. I’m still on the third chapter of
Passion, the third novel from the
Fallen Series (Lauren Kate). In normal circumstances, I’d have finished it in a day or two (what with all the sexiness fallen angels exude). Right now I can’t read anything other than Twitter feeds and blog posts and
One Direction video comments. (I’m not a Directioner, I just like
Zayn Malik... but maybe I am).
Broke. Need I say more?
Reflections. Reflecting once in a while is good unless you contemplate the bad ones. Which is precisely my thing. I’ve looked at all the sides but I can’t see the brighter one; it’s always the dark. I love being alone, yes, but my isolation forces me to think about things which aren’t always colorful and about cute kittens and unicorns. It forces me to think ill of myself, and when I get tired of my round of self-pity, I think ill of the people around me. It’s so bad I’m starting to think that if there’s Heaven, I don’t belong there. My reflections cause me to be badly insecure, and my only way to get pass it is to either ridicule myself or think that “others have it worse”, which is
basically thinking ill. I’m such a troubled, distraught kid.
Maybe I can still make this work. It’s all in the mind anyway, and I’m still the pilot with the rustiest and lamest plane ever, with the smallest net worth. But – I can’t believe I’m saying this – I’m really looking forward to the next school year. I guess this is really bad.
← older / top / newer →
a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
Summer Bummer
“That moment when you’re already sleepy, then ideas suddenly flow like a waterfall... but when you had lots of time, got no ideas. Rawr.”
That, ladies and gentlemen, is so true it could be my life mantra (except for the “rawr” of course). I’ve been trying to blog about something –
anything – for the past couple of days but got into nothing because, I don’t know, there’s just something about summer that eats our brain and leads us to a massive need for procrastination. I’ve been so desperate to feed my blog with sensible words that I even started asking people for worthy topics to write about. (“Write about electricity failure,” my niece said; “Write about us,” a vain friend of mine said.) I spent the whole day yesterday trying to squeeze my brain for some blogging capabilities I once had. It’s ironic, isn’t it? That it’s summer and I can have all the time I need but still
can’t blog? This is even worse than having classes. So last night, just as the moment I closed my eyes, these phrases just ran like torrent in my mind and it annoyed me so much I started slapping my forehead. Now I’m trying to remember those phrases and collect them together to compose a decent entry.
I thought, “Why not write about how lame my summer is?” But then I realized that it’s so cliché that it could lead to my losing of followers (which isn’t a lot). I asked someone on Twitter if writing about one’s self sounds egotistic. She said, “No, it’s your blog anyway.” Yes, it’s my blog anyway. And since I can’t write about the whole scientific reasons behind the power failure we experience in our place, and since I don’t give a
damn about stirring my sleeping memories of how I met my friends slash part-time band mates, yes guys, I will write about how lame my summer is. What else is there to write, really (well, aside from my unfinished essay about insecurities)? And why can’t we have a summer like these kids
here and
here? Smh.
The time flies so fast that, in just a couple of weeks, school will start again. While some find this extra depressing, most of us, especially those who can’t seem to focus on anything, regard this as good news. My summer, in particular, is so lame that I don’t want to do anything to make it less of a lame anymore. If lame is my summer, then lame it is. I spend my waking hours thinking what to do, but my laziness kills all my will and I’d end the day with an unfinished business and a gradually decaying body. I know, “we are the pilot of our own destiny”, but if our plane doesn’t have enough fuel and there’s nowhere to fly to, we’d ditch this pilot crap and resign from our work.
You may ask, “Why so pessimistic? What’s so bad with summer that you’d wish for school already?” Let’s see. I can give you all the reasons I can think of but that would take a lot of time (and I don’t want to have a really, really long blog post). But here, these are the reasons why my “summer” is becoming a “bummer”.
The heat. What’s summer without heat? Of course, summer should be hot so we could sunbathe clad in our bikini and brag our tans to our friends. But really, this heat is scorching everyone can pass out because of heat stroke. We’ve had enough of tropical-ness in this tropical country of ours. The heat isn’t
normal. Our little Summer Paradise is just one degree Celsius shy away from Summer Hellhole.
And the rain. How abnormal can our weather be? News flash: Global warming. Bipolar weather leads to bipolar people.
Distractions. A big problem of mine. When I was in school, I can at least write something for my blog once week. But now, there’s just too many interesting stuff to give my attention to, too many movies to watch, too many boys to stalk online. I can’t seem to focus on anything lately. I’d be all interested in one thing, but just one click in New Tab, the former interest will be a lost cause. Even my reading is affected by distractions. I’m still on the third chapter of
Passion, the third novel from the
Fallen Series (Lauren Kate). In normal circumstances, I’d have finished it in a day or two (what with all the sexiness fallen angels exude). Right now I can’t read anything other than Twitter feeds and blog posts and
One Direction video comments. (I’m not a Directioner, I just like
Zayn Malik... but maybe I am).
Broke. Need I say more?
Reflections. Reflecting once in a while is good unless you contemplate the bad ones. Which is precisely my thing. I’ve looked at all the sides but I can’t see the brighter one; it’s always the dark. I love being alone, yes, but my isolation forces me to think about things which aren’t always colorful and about cute kittens and unicorns. It forces me to think ill of myself, and when I get tired of my round of self-pity, I think ill of the people around me. It’s so bad I’m starting to think that if there’s Heaven, I don’t belong there. My reflections cause me to be badly insecure, and my only way to get pass it is to either ridicule myself or think that “others have it worse”, which is
basically thinking ill. I’m such a troubled, distraught kid.
Maybe I can still make this work. It’s all in the mind anyway, and I’m still the pilot with the rustiest and lamest plane ever, with the smallest net worth. But – I can’t believe I’m saying this – I’m really looking forward to the next school year. I guess this is really bad.
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
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Already several months had passed, and I am missing
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry more and more each fleeting day. There are just some things in life that we can never forget – especially that something that had given us knowledge, skills, strong relationships and a second home. I am glad that everything in the magical world is now at peace, since Voldemort (yes, I can now say his name; no need to be afraid) had died. I had secretly admired Tom Marvolo Riddle (Voldemort’s birth name) though, because of his intelligence, passion and love for magic. Wasn’t he very clever to think of and conjure his seven
Horcruxes to preserve his life, or form a clan of
Death Eaters who were very loyal to him and would give up their lives just for him to succeed? Not everybody can acquire that much loyalty from people these days. I do not, however, admire him for the way he had carried out all of his plans. He had a good agenda, his means just weren’t morally right. But he still is one of the darkest wizards of all time… and let’s leave it that way.
Oh, for all those who are baffled of what I’m saying here and who the heck I am, my name is
Christine Faye Ordas, and I am an alumnus of Hogwarts. I came from the bronze-and-blue-clad house of the smart ass witch Rowena Ravenclaw and her dictum
“Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure.” And yes, I know the wonderful Luna Lovegood (she’s such a darling) and Harry Potter’s first crush Cho Chang. I had just left Hogwarts last May. Right now I am trying to pursue a career in magical researches, literature and writing. It’s my dream to inscribe intellectual books, publish and sell them in
Flourish and Blotts for the future Hogwarts students’ use. I am also planning to credibly write for the
Daily Prophet, the magical world’s primary news bulletin. And of course, I will be very much honored to contribute to Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood’s
Quibbler (hence, my interest in magical researches). I have always found the Lovegoods a fascinating family, and I bet working with and for them will be very exciting. Or maybe, in Merlin’s beard’s time, I can write legends and bedtime stories like the famous – and wickedly brilliant – Beedle the Bard.
And that’s how my life goes these days. I am utterly missing my old school, my friends, the Great Hall, the bronze eagle knocker just outside the Ravenclaw common room, Professor Flitwick (the head of our house), Hogsmeade, the Quidditch matches (although I didn’t actually play for the house), the moving portraits, the castle ghosts, the pumpkins on Halloween, the giant pine trees on Christmas, Rubeus Hagrid’s (Hogwarts’ gamekeeper) tea and treacle fudge – even the crabby Argus Filch (Hogwarts’ caretaker) I miss. Maybe I can visit the school grounds sometimes and see how the magical world’s been doing since Voldemort died (I’ve been spending my months in the muggle world, you see). I’ve heard everybody’s been moving on and starting all over again; the ministry is back on work under Kingsley Shacklebolt; and Harry Potter’s scar haven’t been disturbing him since.
All is well, indeed.
And because of that, we should celebrate and drink firewhisky! Oh, I still don’t drink firewhisky; I can take butterbeer or tea or pumpkin juice – just not firewhisky, please.
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