Bed in Summer

A collective universe of anti-procrastination made James decide to write again for this blog. He's around the edges of the cyberworld, lurking, skulking too long. It was about time that every ounce confidence to scribble is mustered.

Steered by the return of his scholarship via a QPI of 3.*5 (nearly missed it again), he plans to hit summer early on. The guardians of the realm (yes, Game of Thrones reference) gave him a gift for the well put up effort. This, perhaps, is the reason for his cross behavior of the late. First, there is a shortage of people to invite. Second, he plans it to be longer than usual, ergo, a willing squire must sacrifice for compliance. Lastly, the weather's predictable unpredictability shows a demarcation line on the roadmap. Lines, to be more precise. Thick vermilion lines making an X.

Despite the derisive nature of matters, optimism is the key rule. He could surely go, sans the company, like Jerusalem. It did become a fun trip, fears notwithstanding. He hopes the same can be done this time.

For a comeback, let it be light. The future posts should serve a better resolution on gritty issues, should it inspire his Robert Louis Stevenson.

Cold Christmas

This year, James tries to complete the Misa de Gallo. Howbeit his faith has somehow been effect generated, that would be something to digress.

Why can't he seem to find happiness in the season? Yes, things are on great shape at the college. James joined a couple of organizations in Ateneo just to busy himself with charity work. Even his social life is past ordeal, of squeaking spiders in a white room. But hey, something is missing.

He needs a boyfriend. Or, better than this statement is, he wants someone back. No matter how the odds of them being together resounds, he'd still like to wish for that thing. A lot of people want to take that boyfriend spot, yet no one seems to fill his personal qualifications for the post. He can only think of one person.

Nine mornings.

Should it happen. Should THAT moment happen.
James would be very, very happy.

On Moving On

James' last semester gave out much of his weakness: falling in love and being a fool over it. No, no Joe to be blamed on, James reckons that it was all his fault that he didn't verbalize everything that he had in mind. He left a few spots for the self-pity cancers to abound, which should have not been the case.

James was never deeply in love in his whole life. Whatever happened to him and to his last partner, he all accounts to their magnitude of similarities. He never met a person so internally diverse yet when they were together, is like a twin brother. The probabilities of getting to know such a person seem like one in seven billion: it is almost a chance that one's DNA is replicated without aversions, if that is even possible.

Last semester was James' worst academically speaking. Though he didn't fail a subject, every grade which came out had to be like watching a suspense-thriller flick where the killer was somewhere overlooking his every action. His mom was not particularly satisfied with it. All he knows is that he has to implore adjustments to provide a room for improvement. If improvement can be expected.

Joe may have already told stories in his blog on how James has still not moved on yet, and how this blog post will affirm of such a possibility: yes, it is true. Moving on is a remote idea which needs proper rehabilitation to be achieved. Just exactly like an investment where one expects half-bankruptcy by the end of the month. While there is a little time left before three months of them not being together as a couple expires, expectations on a renewed relationship (be it platonic or friendly) stands.

He thought that having a move on cut will work. For the benefit of other people, no, it did not. Moving on is more of a self-containing entity than circumstance-reliant, which, on a layman expression, is independent of haircut and/or sporting a new hobby/boyfirend.

He may have drowned on his computer games all day but at the end of it, just before his sleep, punctuate it with thoughts of his ex. It is not rewarding for the brain. It is stressful. He had to bear that for months.

Thinking about it sucks.

There is nothing to be perused in this introspection. This exists to grace the epitaph of an ember rather than enumerate the misgivings of James' soul and spirit into thinking that things can be modified for his own. For the battle has long been won over and he celebrates his loss in as much as he celebrates his victory. No man is an island, and to that, we should drink to Pangaea once again. Cheers.

The least that could make him happy in this setup is the fact that he is assured of the other party's happiness. No hard feelings, rejections come around in places. He must be moving on, too, soon.