Posts tagged thoughts.

I can’t seem to understand

  • why my friends would prefer watching Brave over The Amazing Spiderman (then again, most of my friends are girls so…)
  • why my friends still manage to put up with me despite my bothersome nature
  • why it has been a trend for most of my classmates to take off their shoes in class regardless of the teachers’ constant warnings that they will confiscate their shoes
  • why our teachers would seriously consider confiscating our classmates’ shoes and allow them to walk around the campus wearing only their socks
  • why my mind goes completely blank when I’m trying to answer exams
  • why I tend to space out a lot 
  • my course even after studying it for three years 
  • why the universe consistently throws unsolicited ironic moments at me 
  • why I have these equal feelings of flaming hatred and love when I see your face, your body, and your expressions (basically your whole being)
  • why words seem to escape me when I’m trying to write
  • why Tumblr has become another thing for me to look forward to during idle times where there is absolutely nothing for me to give my full attention to 
  • why I typed this out in bullets
  • myself

For the Love of the Lovers of Books

Nothing is more refreshing to me than being in a bookshop that is severely crowded with books and people.

While some might be pained by the thought of being crammed in a bookshop with a constantly growing crowd, I bask in the simple joy and pleasure of it. It enlightens me when I see individuals rapidly probing through shelves lined with books, or seeing others wholly arrested with focus on the books in their hands. It lifts my spirits to know that I am in a room full of furrowed brows, pursed lips, and gathered thoughts all dedicated to that paperback or hardbound they’ve set their sights on. It gives me joy to know that I belong here, and that I share a sense of commonality with these individuals whose interests have been deeply seized by the books.

It’s such an uplifting scene and I can’t help but want to approach each one of them and give them a wholehearted pat on the back for choosing to splurge their time on books. I’ve contemplated on doing this, but I’m afraid I’ll break the “literary trance” they’re under (which may or may not be an excuse for the fact that they might shoot me strange looks for my unusual act). 

So I flash them a smile instead—one that I share with them even if they don’t notice it. A smile that stretches the ends of my lips to its limits until it hurts, but it hurts in a good way. A smile that vastly exudes the genuine gratefulness I, along with the books’ authors, feel towards them. A smile that denotes how I am more than willing to give each and every one of them something more than a smile or a pat on the back for taking the time off their schedules (that might be extremely busy) to visit the local bookstore, open a book and skim through its pages. 

So, if by some chance you catch me in a bookshop smiling at you from out of the blue, know that I am not scrutinizing you or checking you out in the creepiest possible way, but rather, I am showing you how proud I am that you chose books, and you chose the bookshop out of the many places to dillydally, and you chose to notice the steadfast smile plastered on my face. And I’ll be crossing my fingers, hoping, that you flash me back a smile as well.

My Pants and My Attached Feelings

I have this peculiar pair of trousers that I constantly wear when I’m required to wear pants to go out (Case in point: going to school in civilian attire). I have a good number of pants in my closet, but I always pick my slightly worn-out pants due to the fact that I’ve been greatly accustomed to the way it comfortably wraps around my thighs, it goes along with anything I wear, and it’s gray (which is one of my favorite colors).

It has been a habit of mine to slip on my ever so slightly worn-out, gray pants during occasions when I need pants, and it irks my mom. It annoys her so much to see me in my bland, dull, tar-looking pants to the point where she has bribed me with more pants just so I would stop wearing my favorite gray pants. She always berates me about my pants—how it’s so old and how it looks so tight around my legs (when it actually doesn’t). Then again, my mom can sometimes be so condescending and nagging about all the little things that tends to bother her (a speck of dust on the kitchen floor or me not answering her cellphone calls even when I’m in class).

Nowadays, I haven’t been wearing my favorite pair of pants just to stop my mom from instantly snapping at the sight of it. My mom has pleaded with me to sell, give away, or even throw away my pants, but I wouldn’t dare. I’ve grown so attached to it that I couldn’t bear to let it go, even if it has a strange-looking stain by the thigh.

So maybe you’re like my favorite pair of gray pants. Even though people are frequently telling me to move on, I just can’t let you go. You’ve firmly left a blotch around my thighs heart that’s so hard to erase, and I’m okay with that. I’m okay with the fact that you’re just there, free and idle. And maybe I can’t let you go because it will hurt knowing that someone, someday, will ultimately wear you so much more better than I did, and my closet will feel so bare without having my favorite pair of pants hanging there anymore. And when that time comes, I guess I’ll have to find me a new pair of pants by then—one that hopefully doesn’t get on my mom’s nerves.