MA Creative Writing student at UP Diliman from the Land of Buko Pies.

Also a runner, photographer, cyclist, florist, dreamer, and believer.

Showing posts tagged UP Diliman

I don’t know what feel about this Ph.D.-level poetry class (CW 302). Though, I think having Palanca Award winner Paolo Manalo as my professor would be very interesting and stimulating. Incidentally, I dissected one of his poems in front of my creative writing class last semester!
But for that Asian lit class, I’m already a little excited, a little excited!

I don’t know what feel about this Ph.D.-level poetry class (CW 302). Though, I think having Palanca Award winner Paolo Manalo as my professor would be very interesting and stimulating. Incidentally, I dissected one of his poems in front of my creative writing class last semester!


But for that Asian lit class, I’m already a little excited, a little excited!

Walk. All I ever seem to do now is walk. Sometimes I find myself feeling sorry for my shoes. I don’t think they were designed to endure this much walking. But I have to think of my head. Walking clears my head, somehow. Back at home, I drove a gleaming black car. It was one of those head-turner cars, not exactly because it’s brand new—it’s getting old fast—but because its mags are the super shiny chrome ones. And they’re bigger than the usual ones, so Blackie, as we’ve named the car, is a few inches taller than its peers. On days when Blackie wasn’t neglected, wasn’t dusty or muddy, I would drive around town with my shades on, windows down and music almost blaring. But not here. No. Here, I walk.
Mute. Most of the time, my lips are sealed. And if it weren’t for the abundance of friends which I could phone every now and then, I would be mute more than half of the day, trapped in my own repetitive thoughts. I could talk to the trees. I could talk to the big buildings. Or I could talk to my soon-to-be-worn-out shoes. But I don’t. I constantly remind myself how fortunate I am to be studying in the country’s top university; to be far away from home. After all, this is exactly what I wanted, what I have been working on for quite some time. This was my goal, and now, I am here. Flesh and all.
Things to do. Study! Top priority. Other than that, I could take a picture with Oblation any weekday of my choice, exhaust every possible angle. I could run around the famous oval everyday if that would pacify my insatiable need to get high. I could even drown myself in literature inside the College of Arts and Letters library, which is now my favourite personal space in all of Quezon City. I have found joy, yes, don’t get me wrong. And I am more than grateful for this opportunity. I just want to feel that this joy is complete. I don’t know why it feels like it isn’t. Or maybe I do.
Stranger. I find myself searching for familiar faces in crowds, these days. All the time. And all the time I fail, so I just gaze at my phone. The time, no notifications, no text messages, and no missed calls. I fidget with the trackpad so I would be convincing. But it gets tiring and I put my phone back inside my pocket. I try to smile, convince myself that I’m happy. I succeed. But then the crowds thin, and inevitably, I am by myself again. From a distance, I could make out that dark figure with his hands outstretched—the ultimate symbol of this university. Freedom! He seems to scream. Could this be it? Well then, freedom, anyone?
Oblation photo credit here.

Walk. All I ever seem to do now is walk. Sometimes I find myself feeling sorry for my shoes. I don’t think they were designed to endure this much walking. But I have to think of my head. Walking clears my head, somehow. Back at home, I drove a gleaming black car. It was one of those head-turner cars, not exactly because it’s brand new—it’s getting old fast—but because its mags are the super shiny chrome ones. And they’re bigger than the usual ones, so Blackie, as we’ve named the car, is a few inches taller than its peers. On days when Blackie wasn’t neglected, wasn’t dusty or muddy, I would drive around town with my shades on, windows down and music almost blaring. But not here. No. Here, I walk.

Mute. Most of the time, my lips are sealed. And if it weren’t for the abundance of friends which I could phone every now and then, I would be mute more than half of the day, trapped in my own repetitive thoughts. I could talk to the trees. I could talk to the big buildings. Or I could talk to my soon-to-be-worn-out shoes. But I don’t. I constantly remind myself how fortunate I am to be studying in the country’s top university; to be far away from home. After all, this is exactly what I wanted, what I have been working on for quite some time. This was my goal, and now, I am here. Flesh and all.

Things to do. Study! Top priority. Other than that, I could take a picture with Oblation any weekday of my choice, exhaust every possible angle. I could run around the famous oval everyday if that would pacify my insatiable need to get high. I could even drown myself in literature inside the College of Arts and Letters library, which is now my favourite personal space in all of Quezon City. I have found joy, yes, don’t get me wrong. And I am more than grateful for this opportunity. I just want to feel that this joy is complete. I don’t know why it feels like it isn’t. Or maybe I do.

Stranger. I find myself searching for familiar faces in crowds, these days. All the time. And all the time I fail, so I just gaze at my phone. The time, no notifications, no text messages, and no missed calls. I fidget with the trackpad so I would be convincing. But it gets tiring and I put my phone back inside my pocket. I try to smile, convince myself that I’m happy. I succeed. But then the crowds thin, and inevitably, I am by myself again. From a distance, I could make out that dark figure with his hands outstretched—the ultimate symbol of this university. Freedom! He seems to scream. Could this be it? Well then, freedom, anyone?

Oblation photo credit here.

(via jerardeusebio)

I’ve been running here at UPD for two weeks now since my classes have started and I’ve come to a conclusion: it is better to run around UPLB than UPD.
Indeed, UPD has a dedicated bike lane/running path and it’s wider than UPLB’s sidewalks, but those aren’t enough to make it a better place to go for a run. But that’s just my opinion. 
I’ve been running since late 2009. Here are my [personal reasons] for choosing UPLB as a better venue for running:
Air quality is better, far better
A runner is not limited to an oval—I find UPD’s oval unexciting (I’m the type of runner who likes detours as well as variations in routes and road texture. In UPLB, I run uphill—to the Forestry area and sometimes to the Boy Scout’s area. I could run on grass and dirt roads every now and then just to break the monotony. But in UPD, everything’s just so… asphaltish and a few detours of cemented pathways. God forbid a runner should ever break the “rules”.)
More slopes, uphill climbs (Hail, Mt. Makiling!)
Less vehicles, less exhaust puffing beside you when you run
Fewer runners beside you to slow you down or compete with you
More levelled running paths/sidewalks (The UPD oval is not level at all. If you’re running against the flow of traffic like I do, you’d notice that at your right side, the one closest to the sidewalk, is lower than your left side. There’s no problem if the path is sloping up or down as long as it is forward, but in this case, the path is horizontally (?) unlevelled. I find that a possible cause for injury, though I may need to consult a running doctor on that one.)

I’ve been running here at UPD for two weeks now since my classes have started and I’ve come to a conclusion: it is better to run around UPLB than UPD.

Indeed, UPD has a dedicated bike lane/running path and it’s wider than UPLB’s sidewalks, but those aren’t enough to make it a better place to go for a run. But that’s just my opinion.

I’ve been running since late 2009. Here are my [personal reasons] for choosing UPLB as a better venue for running:

  1. Air quality is better, far better
  2. A runner is not limited to an oval—I find UPD’s oval unexciting (I’m the type of runner who likes detours as well as variations in routes and road texture. In UPLB, I run uphill—to the Forestry area and sometimes to the Boy Scout’s area. I could run on grass and dirt roads every now and then just to break the monotony. But in UPD, everything’s just so… asphaltish and a few detours of cemented pathways. God forbid a runner should ever break the “rules”.)
  3. More slopes, uphill climbs (Hail, Mt. Makiling!)
  4. Less vehicles, less exhaust puffing beside you when you run
  5. Fewer runners beside you to slow you down or compete with you
  6. More levelled running paths/sidewalks (The UPD oval is not level at all. If you’re running against the flow of traffic like I do, you’d notice that at your right side, the one closest to the sidewalk, is lower than your left side. There’s no problem if the path is sloping up or down as long as it is forward, but in this case, the path is horizontally (?) unlevelled. I find that a possible cause for injury, though I may need to consult a running doctor on that one.)
I saw this when I entered my classroom for my CW 100 class. It’s taken from Sara Bareilles’ song Gravity.
Utterly heartbreaking, as if I wasn’t heartbroken enough.

I saw this when I entered my classroom for my CW 100 class. It’s taken from Sara Bareilles’ song Gravity.

Utterly heartbreaking, as if I wasn’t heartbroken enough.

Walk. All I ever seem to do now is walk. Sometimes I find myself feeling sorry for my shoes. I don’t think they were designed to endure this much walking. But I have to think of my head. Walking clears my head, somehow. Back at home, I drove a gleaming black car. It was one of those head-turner cars, not exactly because it’s brand new—it’s getting old fast—but because its mags are the super shiny chrome ones. And they’re bigger than the usual ones, so Blackie, as we’ve named the car, is a few inches taller than its peers. On days when Blackie wasn’t neglected, wasn’t dusty or muddy, I would drive around town with my shades on, windows down and music almost blaring. But not here. No. Here, I walk.
Mute. Most of the time, my lips are sealed. And if it weren’t for the abundance of friends which I could phone every now and then, I would be mute more than half of the day, trapped in my own repetitive thoughts. I could talk to the trees. I could talk to the big buildings. Or I could talk to my soon-to-be-worn-out shoes. But I don’t. I constantly remind myself how fortunate I am to be studying in the country’s top university; to be far away from home. After all, this is exactly what I wanted, what I have been working on for quite some time. This was my goal, and now, I am here. Flesh and all.
Things to do. Study! Top priority. Other than that, I could take a picture with Oblation any weekday of my choice, exhaust every possible angle. I could run around the famous oval everyday if that would pacify my insatiable need to get high. I could even drown myself in literature inside the College of Arts and Letters library, which is now my favourite personal space in all of Quezon City. I have found joy, yes, don’t get me wrong. And I am more than grateful for this opportunity. I just want to feel that this joy is complete. I don’t know why it feels like it isn’t. Or maybe I do.
Stranger. I find myself searching for familiar faces in crowds, these days. All the time. And all the time I fail, so I just gaze at my phone. The time, no notifications, no text messages, and no missed calls. I fidget with the trackpad so I would be convincing. But it gets tiring and I put my phone back inside my pocket. I try to smile, convince myself that I’m happy. I succeed. But then the crowds thin, and inevitably, I am by myself again. From a distance, I could make out that dark figure with his hands outstretched—the ultimate symbol of this university. Freedom! He seems to scream. Could this be it? Well then, freedom, anyone?
Oblation photo credit here.

Walk. All I ever seem to do now is walk. Sometimes I find myself feeling sorry for my shoes. I don’t think they were designed to endure this much walking. But I have to think of my head. Walking clears my head, somehow. Back at home, I drove a gleaming black car. It was one of those head-turner cars, not exactly because it’s brand new—it’s getting old fast—but because its mags are the super shiny chrome ones. And they’re bigger than the usual ones, so Blackie, as we’ve named the car, is a few inches taller than its peers. On days when Blackie wasn’t neglected, wasn’t dusty or muddy, I would drive around town with my shades on, windows down and music almost blaring. But not here. No. Here, I walk.

Mute. Most of the time, my lips are sealed. And if it weren’t for the abundance of friends which I could phone every now and then, I would be mute more than half of the day, trapped in my own repetitive thoughts. I could talk to the trees. I could talk to the big buildings. Or I could talk to my soon-to-be-worn-out shoes. But I don’t. I constantly remind myself how fortunate I am to be studying in the country’s top university; to be far away from home. After all, this is exactly what I wanted, what I have been working on for quite some time. This was my goal, and now, I am here. Flesh and all.

Things to do. Study! Top priority. Other than that, I could take a picture with Oblation any weekday of my choice, exhaust every possible angle. I could run around the famous oval everyday if that would pacify my insatiable need to get high. I could even drown myself in literature inside the College of Arts and Letters library, which is now my favourite personal space in all of Quezon City. I have found joy, yes, don’t get me wrong. And I am more than grateful for this opportunity. I just want to feel that this joy is complete. I don’t know why it feels like it isn’t. Or maybe I do.

Stranger. I find myself searching for familiar faces in crowds, these days. All the time. And all the time I fail, so I just gaze at my phone. The time, no notifications, no text messages, and no missed calls. I fidget with the trackpad so I would be convincing. But it gets tiring and I put my phone back inside my pocket. I try to smile, convince myself that I’m happy. I succeed. But then the crowds thin, and inevitably, I am by myself again. From a distance, I could make out that dark figure with his hands outstretched—the ultimate symbol of this university. Freedom! He seems to scream. Could this be it? Well then, freedom, anyone?

Oblation photo credit here.

Day 1 - Registration, UP Diliman, Quezon City :)

Like dots of glitters on a dark velvet sky, the stars slowly faded into view as the sun finally buried itself on the horizon. The gentle breeze sang its melody of an afternoon that cost so little, but brought so much. The trees swayed at its passing, seemingly sweeping away with it the lonesomeness that was once his.
He could feel his heart racing and every breath he took sounded like a scream in his head. His feet constantly trod on grass which covered the field. And while running on that little patch of earth, they let the world go by, believing that somehow they were at the very center of the universe as it revolved around them. Nothing else mattered, nothing ever could.
He closed his eyes for a minute and wondered how reality could have been so surreal. He took in as much as he could. He looked at the stars and thanked God. With that, the moment immortalized, etched on his heart.
Love revealed itself that day as an answered prayer to endless petitions. He gazed into those eyes and knew that he finally found something worth fighting, living and dying for—love.

Like dots of glitters on a dark velvet sky, the stars slowly faded into view as the sun finally buried itself on the horizon. The gentle breeze sang its melody of an afternoon that cost so little, but brought so much. The trees swayed at its passing, seemingly sweeping away with it the lonesomeness that was once his.

He could feel his heart racing and every breath he took sounded like a scream in his head. His feet constantly trod on grass which covered the field. And while running on that little patch of earth, they let the world go by, believing that somehow they were at the very center of the universe as it revolved around them. Nothing else mattered, nothing ever could.

He closed his eyes for a minute and wondered how reality could have been so surreal. He took in as much as he could. He looked at the stars and thanked God. With that, the moment immortalized, etched on his heart.

Love revealed itself that day as an answered prayer to endless petitions. He gazed into those eyes and knew that he finally found something worth fighting, living and dying for—love.