I thought it might do my grumpy little self a lot of good to go out and do something different, for once, and I decided, spur of the moment, that it’ll be this summer or never. After this soul searching, I hope and pray that I’d have enough realization to stick to “things I’m supposed to do as a 23-year old”.
Since my braincells are taking a break, when asked for the reason in enrolling in “recreational” classes, I can not even compose a profound and noble answer like those of my classmates to satisfy my maestro’s need for self-gratification – you know how much teachers wanted to hear that reason for enrolling is because “we love so and so very much”. Instead, I ended up giving a not so intelligent reply of, “ I wish I know why”.
Even if I refuse to do much thinking, I ended up complaining about the gullibility of characters in all the nighttime soaps I’m sure my sister’s just dying to throw me the vase or smash me in the head. I can’t sit in front of the tv and say nothing. Every night, I keep on promising myself not to say anything uncomplimentary but my mouth seems to have a mind of its own! And since I enrolled myself in a language class I used to take in the undergrad, my reaction every class bordered from sheer boredom to contempt for the professor who assumed we knew nothing. And so starts the supposedly enjoyable summer.
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