A good kind of tired

It has been a quiet two weeks for me here on WordPress and although I’ve tried to abandon it completely, there’s just something in me that can’t seem to let this handle go. I’ve been busy with school that began with a week-long orientation and tours, and the past one was an unexpected dump of academic workload. With org work, Ateneo online classes, and myself to manage, a good sense of balance was what I really needed to get through the week.

Two weeks into Frisco, I was bumming. Now I'm just dead tired.

Kung sino mang nag-sabing petiks ang JTA, nagkakamali siya.” -JA de Lima

My friend, JA, and I have been talking almost everyday about the heavy load that universities other than the Ateneo offer to their students. USF and NUS (National University of Singapore) both require a dense amount of reading material per day, as compared to the ‘per week’ basis that we’re used to back in Manila.  Continue reading “A good kind of tired”

Better than a boyfriend

This entry is taken from the author’s creative thematic review for a class on Writing about Culture (Ateneo de Manila University – Communication Department). Written by Kara R. Santiago on October 11, 2011.

Photo source: http://3story.org

A two-storey home in a nice subdivision, three children, a golden retriever and, of course, a loving husband. Life seemed so planned out and headed towards the goal you have been aiming for so long – until it self-destructs right before your very eyes. Yes, the devastating reality of a breakup hits you like an atomic bomb and you are left with no one but yourself to start picking up all the shattered pieces.

Being newly single can lead to a ton of emotional meltdowns that might eventually escalate into what I’d like to call the Bridget Jones’ syndrome. Falling into this trap only means three things: a tub of ice cream, All By Myself playing on loop and a sea of tears all over the floor.

But really, who needs that?

While getting out of a relationship you have invested so much on might seem like the end of the world, there are pressing consequences that a heartbroken woman could overlook. There’s her career, her beauty and her road of self-discovery, to name a few. Succumb to the tempting calls of depression to literally just forget the world and sulk, and you are surely in for a downhill ride from the top down to ground zero.

Read along and discover the steps you can take to finally stand up and start over. Unlike other inspirational pieces that just empower and repeat the words “It’s time to move on!” this piece will literally get you up and about.

Here are some tried and tested, better than a boyfriend and fool proof ways of saying hello to a new, improved you. And, when I tell you that I’ve been there and done that, you ought to trust me. 100% satisfaction guaranteed!

Continue reading “Better than a boyfriend”

Mythical Five

It’s Day 3 of my first semester and aside from excessively sweating, there are also a couple of things that I’ve been excessively obsessing (not really, but I’m getting there!) about.

  1. Great company – It has been a month after my break-up and with the amount of time I now claimed back for myself, I never realized how much I’ve been missing out on AAAs. Yes, I’m baduy like that–coining my term for hanging out as After Acads Afternoons. Spending time with both my Guidon and ACOMM families (sorry for being overly sentimental, I swear there isn’t any other word to describe who they are to me) have been nothing but the best.
  2. (Pretentious) exercising – Following my rocky afternoon yesterday was a determined Kara to shed off the extra pounds. After 3 rounds around Ateneo that lasted for 1 1/2 hours and 100 crunches to top it off, I think I want to push myself harder to keep up with this routine–doing it daily, and not only when I feel like I’m on the verge of PMS-ing.
  3. Caf Up food stalls – Since I’m not really into the JSEC Stalls this year, save for my best (and biased!) option, Sushi Samurai, I’ve come to appreciate Caf Up even more. I can’t believe we now have California Berry, Mushroom Burger, and 711 ice cream! I’m actually just excited about the ice cream part because I’ll now have an alternative to my favorite avocado dirty ice cream cones from the cafeteria. (For those who prefer to bask in the Caf heat, be sure to try their Roti (?) options and diced hopia. Although sketchy, they taste pretty amazing.)
  4. RecWeek – Kick-starting Beyond Loyola with a great June release and having a more than successful OrSem ACOMM Department Talk, I’m looking forward to getting new recruits, especially from the freshmen. I remember my awkward, akala-ko-Senior-ka-kasi-ang-tangkad-mo self two years ago, and how I’ve played my cards fairly well to get to my happy place now. I just hope the new meat wouldn’t be scared to step out of their comfort zones and try something new. What I like most about my freshman year was I sort of challenged myself despite my illogical insecurities–and that’s what I pray for every freshman to have.
  5. Falling, not failing – Losing my Dean’s List slot to a nominal grade in History, I’m quite determined to climb back up the ladder this year. That, and you know, (hopefully) falling again before I leave my heart in San Francisco.

Dodging Bullets

I’ve been lacking sleep lately because of summer school’s final stretch. It’s been a while since I’ve lounged around (heck, I don’t even remember my summer having bum days), and quite frankly, I am appreciative of the fact that being busy hasn’t been more timely than ever.

It has been 10 days after the break-up, and 9/10 of those were either spent on meetings, commuting back and forth, cooking up a Zodiac tribute for class or finishing up 12 film critiques on A Little Disaster. Lucky day 1/10 was the 24-hour breakdown I had after dinner with a few close friends and a talk with my father. After crying myself to sleep and begging Dad not to leave my bedside until I stopped, the next morning came to me as if nothing ever happened. That incident, as frequent as episodes like that should be, never happened to me again.

Tonight, while going back to my responsibilities apart from academics, Luther, a good friend (and boss!) of mine sent me something on Facebook that just literally made me want to cry.

“May special Frutips ako for you.” — he got me these little babies to cheer me up from all this relationship stress I’ve been passively going through. It touched me in so many levels because although I am happy and doing a seemingly good job in holding up, there are just those times when I wish that this did not happen to me at all. There are times that I want to give up being this ‘strong girl’ just so I won’t have to face the memory of why I had to do what I did. I haven’t really mourned for my loss and I don’t think I want to give myself time to do so. I am admittedly avoiding that at all costs because I’m afraid that my weakness for the (good) past might get the best of me.

I am moved because this simple gesture meant that someone understood the pain, and acknowledged how deep the wound actually is. Don’t get me wrong here, I am fine — but let’s not take away my heart’s right to be broken.

Yours would be, too. If, like me, you lost the man you have loved with all your heart.

Expectations & 19-eality

“You are hardly ever positive when it comes to your birthdays.”

-April Lamentillo (2011)

I’m turning 19 in 14 hours, writing on a blog that’s been idle for months, hating (well, not really) a friend who’s about to watch the The Script concert next week and dying to let out all the emotions I’ve been through the past semester. There were some days in 2011 that pushed me into quitting, but I’m glad I stuck it out. Cryptic as I may sound like, believe me when I say that it would take me years to write what I really want to say. For now, at least, let me bore you with the ubiquitous Kara-is-talking-to-herself-again kind of thing. Feel free to exit this window because I definitely know I would.

One of the lingering questions in my head has always been ‘What have you done this year?’ I hate thinking about the fact that I may have wasted an entire year of growing up not doing the things I needed to, holding back on the goals I should have accomplished at that age. But with humble confidence (if there is such thing), I am certain about my 18th year — finally, I have surpassed my expectations of myself and went a little over above the line to top it all off.

My academics were a constant struggle come my sophomore year’s second semester. There stood my major subjects, Advertising and PR, which took up most of my time but allowed me to explore my abilities and build stronger friendships, SA with Dr. Abad, which changed my life completely, Spanish 1, which gave me a reason to get up every week, and of course, History, which was the death of me and my QPI. Needless to say, I have no idea where I drew my strength from to reach the end of this all. All I know is that the energy that I did manage to muster up was .02 short of securing me a spot on the Dean’s List. Thankfully, though, my org work sufficiently covered up for my lack of academic pride. Although I’d love to go on about the details of my ever-growing love for both The GUIDON and ACOMM, that’s a completely different story to tell.

Overworked as my brain looks like, my heart and body are at a loss, too. A day before my make-or-break final exam for History, my stomach gave up on me and threw a bitch-fit by suddenly being cranky and hyper-acidic. It lasted for more than a week that even after I went to CamSur, it still didn’t treat me very well. As for my heart — well, my heart, let’s say “longs”. There’s an emptiness inside me that leaves me with only the academic load of La Salle to blame and nothing more. I hate what its done to my boyfriend and if I lose him to all the animo, I don’t know what kind of bomb I’d turn into. It frustrates me a lot when I’m forced to use the 4-year-relationship card — because sometimes, the time you used to spend together is not enough to compensate for the lost time you’re supposed to spend now.

It is in this light that I do not look forward to my birthday tomorrow. I knew better when I thought I’d actually want to celebrate my birthday again after last year’s dinner. True enough, I’m back to my sulky self who never really wants fussing about her birthday. I turn a year older, now what? I thought I saw the point of commemorating a year of existence after I got back from the States last year. As usual, I thought wrong. There is no point — and there will never be.

Everyday, as cliche as I am going to sound yet again, must be enough to drive you to celebrate life. Looking back on my 18th year, although I bit off more than I could chew, I still wished that I did more. Maybe this also boils down to my nature of wanting to do so much even if it was beyond my control. Whether it be a good or bad thing, it seems to be making a good impact in my life. I’m just afraid that one day, I might break down into all those little pieces that are so hard to mend.


There is one thing I am most thankful for, actually. But I’m not so sure if I’m ready to tell the world about it just yet.