I Cry For Home

I Cry For Home

While other girls cry for boys, I cry for home.

The university I study in has made Monday an official holiday of the whole campus, this means that we only go to class from Tuesdays to Fridays. There are some students though, about a fourth of the whole population, that have classes that fall on Monday. These classes are those that they won’t be able to fit in their four-day schedule. But essentially, our school enjoys a three-day long weekend (I really hope I’m explaining it properly and that you get what I’m saying). Because of this, most students (who don’t live near the University) opt to go home every Friday to spend their weekend there. So most dormitories (like mine), empty out and only a few of us remain.

I don’t usually mind being alone in the weekends. I actually appreciate the time I have for myself. I’ve been here for more than a year and I thought I’d gotten used to that odd feeling of being alone. From the start of the sophomore year, I hadn’t felt that deep, deep, longing of home. Until today. I don’t know what triggered the tears and the extreme homesickness. Minor thing like stress from all the homework, and the loneliness of being in a room with three other empty beds around me may have contributed, but I’m betting it’s because of my brother’s birthday. He’s turning 10 today. And one of the worst things I’ve felt since I started college was not being able to watch him blow his candles. I know that the solution’s easy: all I have to do is go home too, like all the other students, but unlike them, my house it ten hours away, and it would cost too much. My parents are spending a lot for my education as it is.

I also know that it’s a consequence I have to accept, since I chose to study so far from home. And I actually love studying where I am; there are just those times when I wish I could give my siblings a hug, even for a really short while. At times like these, I even miss all the fights we have at home. Heck, I sometimes even miss my house chores.

So if there are any people out there who can’t keep on complaining about their home, and how they’d love to be away from their families, I can only say that yeah, sometimes it could be fun to be all independent and free. But there are always those sparkly and slow-mo moments that can only happen at home.

((Pic by pictureguy at deviantart))


College Blues

So I’ve just arrived in the dorm about two hours ago. My head’s pounding from the exhausting travel, but I’m all smiles. The dormitory I got in is newly renovated, so almost everything is new. The lockers are new, the beds, the tables, the curtains, the paint and the light. Almost the only thing I can see that’s not new right now is the door knob. I guess they felt too lazy to fix that. Daddy also gave me more cash than I need, and my new roommates are really kind and lovely.

It’s almost perfect.

Except for one little glitch.

I’m feeling so homesick already. I can’t help but compare everything I see around me to what I’ll find at home. The climate here is almost ten degrees higher than at our town, so consequently, people dress differently, too. That kinda sounds silly, yeah, but when you’re used to wearing coats and hats, boots and jeans, and find other people surrounding you in shorts, sleeveless top and sunglasses, you’ll understand how out of place it can feel.

Don’t get me wrong, I still love this place. I wouldn’t have picked this university if I didn’t. I guess I’m just having my college blues. Yeah. That’s what I call it. I’m wondering why I have it though. I don’t get why, even though I have every material thing I might want and wonderful people around me, I still crave the foggy weather of home and even the constant bickering of my siblings. Because of this, I can’t help to think that maybe not only the relationships we build are fated. Maybe where we’re born and the places we go to are a part of our “destiny”, too.

Guess that’s about it for my rambling today. Right now, my stomach’s grumbling so hard and I think it’s about time for me to get some food.

Captured on our walk home with my little brother.

Foggy Climate of home

Freeing Thoughts

Freeing Thoughts

Hello, you.

Whoever–whatever–you are. I am desperately racking my brain for something to start on, and so far I am only coming up with the simplest option I have. My name. I hate revealing my name, though (call me paranoid), so I guess a nickname would be enough? Vani it is, then.

So here I am. Writing. Why though?

Maybe it’s because I’ve always found writing so stress relieving. Whenever my pen (or in this case, fingers) touch the paper (keyboard), I can almost visualize it to be like shouting out everything I’m feeling into a blank, empty space. The only difference is that in writing, our words are recorded and saved. Our words can actually be accessed by millions of others, no matter the time or distance. Like how you’ve accessed this very words.

I won’t pretend to be good. Compared with all the other writers out there, my works may look like crap to you. And it won’t mean anything to me. I guess that’s the beauty of thoughts expressed through the use of pens and papers– you don’t write for anybody else, you write for yourself. You write to free those itching ideas from their cages, and maybe in the process, free yourself too.

So! I honestly planned to just post an introduction of some sorts, but ended up rambling again. Yeah. That’s how random I can get. But those random thoughts I have are what I plan to be posting anyway. Maybe that’s what I should entitle my next blogs: The Random Thoughts of a Seventeen Year Old. Stay with me along the way? I hope so.

Have a good day dearies. Keep on writing.

((Photo by Kurosama 76))