Neutrality - Day 2: Ugnayan ng Sining

My face betrays how my chest heaves disappointment. Yes. I am upset.

Earlier this morning, I was informed I would be getting an INC grade for my Research Methods class if I fail to pass all three chapters today. Guess what. I haven’t even started revising my Chapter 1, and my pages for my second chapter are just perfect. Perfectly blank. I felt like crying. I was listening to the second speaker for the day, Sir Victor, but I barely heard anything. I wanted to enjoy the experience of being an artist-writer, but school is dragging me to present reality. You could not have your wish, it was saying. At least not yet. I was tearing up as I typed away on my laptop, silently praying for speed in thinking. Praise the Lord, I had finished my revisions and my second chapter. I have decided to pass the third chapter tomorrow morning though, as I do not have much time left. Time is running out, and things are squeezed in forcefully.

My being upset has something to do with not actually having been part of today’s literary experience as my mind had to be somewhere farther. I also did not take part in the actual workshop because, as I have shared in my previous post, I am not an official “participant” but a part of the working committee. How and when will I be able to let them critique on my works for improvement? It’s heartbreaking. I know. As much as I fancy the thought of being behind the scenes, I doubt if my writing skills have become any better. My diary-like entries on this blog are, of course, products of free-writing, so I do not expect these to be fascinating pieces as they are only for personal consumption which specifically do not necessarily require special images to roll over in your thoughts.

I remember. I still have to have my thesis paper printed, so I’ll be leaving you now with something I have made up, despite my not being part of the actual workshop (which was only on critiquing somebody else’s work, anyway). This is me in my neutral state.

to the moon to the trench, the mind swoons

simultaneous with lips that part for sound.

washed are the noises in the room

crumpled are the images that dry up blinds.

anticipating the lights to sleep

i only see it go from the moon to the trench.