Allow me to be sentimental.
Yesterday, I took the last three classes of my whole college life. Last. Three. Classes.
First Class:
I woke up late. Again. I set the small alarm clock I have on my side table to ring at 7:00 a.m. since my class starts at 9:20 a.m., and as it was the last class of the term for that course (Art Appreciation, btw) I sure as hell didn't want to be late. Again. (It was my first class every MWF so it stood as the sacrificial lamb for my other classes, I was probably on time for that class on about 7 or 8 occasions, 10 max, for the whole three-month term. On the otherhand, my presence in that class assured that I was not going to be late for the next classes since all I had to do was walk to the next building.)
Okay, lost again... Where was I... small alarm clock... right...
I'm not sure it's right to blame my own shortcomings on inanimate objects, but that small alarm clock is really the friggin culprit here. Its sole purpose is to sound the hell off and wake me up on the time I set it to alarm (okay, so that's two purposes. Okay okay so it's also supposed to tell the time. Three purposes, fine...) but for some reason, IT JUST DOESN'T. (It alarms, it just doesn't wake me up. It also tells the time, which is how I find out that it didn't wake me up.) Usually I'm just off my wake-up schedule by ten to twenty minutes, but since this is a (sentimentally) important day, Murphy's law kicks in and I wake up not at 7:10, not at 7:15, not even 7:30, but at 7-friggin-50 a.m. So typically, I came late for class. So fucking typical. But anywayz, when I got to class, only about 5 people were there (including my professor). Turns out there were no classes, we just had to pass the critical paper for Painting/Sculpture that was due that day and we can leave. So the last-three-classes day is now down to last-two-classes day.
Second Class:
The second class is for Literature. That day, we had to do a dramatic reading of the play "Ang Paglilitis ni Mang Serapio", which if I understand correctly, is a biting social commentary. On society. As social commentaries usually are.
If you read through the sleep-inducer that was my last post, you'd know that I'm not one who would easily turn away from potentially embarrassing moments. So when my groupmates asked me to be the one to read the Serapio part, wherein he was on the verge of going wacko and was aimlessly spitting random words (just like me when my sugar level is low), I accepted the offer. It wasn't as embarrassing as I thought it would be since each member of the class had to do a dramatic reading of at least one part of the play and the chances that there would at least be one more person who would deliver a relatively more embarrassing performance than me was in a way comforting.
End of second class. Our group got an okay grade for the reading. Last-two-classes day is now one-last-class day.
Third (and last) Class:
Biology 2, Environmental Science. We had to pass a project (the Flash presenatation I was talking about in the previous post) then take our final exam, a 50-item quiz where half of the questions were about topics I was encountering for the very first time. Nothing special really happened on this class. I finished the test in about 10 minutes, but stayed on my seat for about 6 minutes 18 seconds more (kidding, but more or less 7 minutes more) just sitting there. Staring at my paper, staring at my seatmate's paper (just to see what part he was on), looking at my other classmates, looking at the white walls, etc. I was just sitting there looking around (okay, here comes the sentimental part...) and then I decided to stand up and pass my paper, get my stuff, and get out of the class. And my one-last-class-of-my-whole-college life is now just another day I'm writing about on my blog. (Yep, that's it. That's the sentimental part. It's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it thing.)
Classes Over:
That's it. No more classes to attend (and be late for). No more getting bored and sleepy on boring and sleep-inducing lectures. No more days of regularly going to school. My classes are over, but I'm still not gonna graduate because of one more thing I have to finish (a topic I told myself I will never mention on my blog, so lets just leave it at that.) As I was on my way home, waiting for a bus in front of the Gokongwei Hall, some people I knew walked by and got on their rides that were waiting to take them home. Then it crossed my mind. I probably won't be seeing most of those people again. All the people who I knew but was never really friendly with (and there were a lot, with my personality), I would most probably lose touch with them in a couple of months. I'd probably never get the chance to talk to them ever again. And if I ever will, it will be probably be one of those rare occasions, and we'd talk just to be polite to each other. Which is sad if you really think about it.
I'm not someone who likes to look back at the past and wallow on my mistakes, or regret over what I should have done but didn't. But I gotta admit, if there was one thing I could have done differently, it would have been to try to establish a more solid personal relationship with all the people I met. Because I could just imagine, ten years from now, if I were to meet all these people again, only about two dozen would probably walk up to me and have a real conversation with me. Not that it's saddening... It's just... spilled beer worth feeling sorry for, if you get what I mean.
Okay, gotta end this sentimental bullshit now...
P.S. If I ever get this sentimental again, feel free to bitch-slap me...
P.P.S. Do me a favor, will ya? Help make me feel better. Promise to talk to me in 10 years.
