hit after hit

After the disappointing founders’ lineup of activities, the gathering of familiar faces, and the frequent cupping of our chins with our hands to quote someone, myriad of thoughts have already crowded my mind.

HIT 1: My manuscript has finally been sent. I’m keeping my fingers crossed also hoping that my fellow Hipons and Katsubongs would get into the workshop. Reunion, please!

HIT 2: I am not actually sure but there are some things that existed but not entirely visible. Where is it? When is it? How is it? Never mind, it’s not worth anything—just my diploma.

HIT 3: Someone is not well and nothing makes me more worried than not knowing what to do. Get the feeling? I hope not—consistent “hug hug” is not enough. And another someone is acting weird today. Or is it just me? Well, I need to breathe for the apple dies beyond room temperature.

HIT 4: I just couldn’t get why some people have not yet learned the basics of what is a basic! Such mindless authority they have….

HIT 5: Shakespeare in my room may look brilliant and dorky but is he enough to create a divine spark? Anyway, I’m hanging him on the office wall someday.

HIT 6: Three more issues and the Weekly Sillimanian’s blood this first semester is drying up.

HIT 7: The semester is going to end and my play hasn’t realized it needs to end. Yes, my work has a mind of its own.

HIT 8: The semester is going to end and I haven’t written any letter for Dark Blue Southern Seas, inviting alumni and other acquaintances to submit their literary works.

HIT 9: The semester is going to end and I only have four pieces yet that passed the standards of my poetry teacher. At least, “Rain March” proved to be the best among my list of first drafts.

HIT 10: This cycle of monotony is really getting into me. I need a break!