How I'm A Soul With Not A Body At Night

I just blogged some pre-birthday confessions a while ago and I must say I was quite drenched in the feeling.

Now I am loosening up and savoring what's left of my canned mocha. This entry is written because 1) I want to make the most of the boost that is coming to me at this very moment and 2) because I'm still not sleepy. Possibly due to the mocha, and the "upper" that results from having accomplished a chronicle such as the previous blog.

By the way, I am in my usual bandit haven that is under a spiral staircase in my dormitory's lobby. At this time, mosquitoes share my haven. But the nocturnal insects are less of a nuisance than outsiders swarming this area during daytime, practicing for some PE dance show.

Going back, I could have been more productive tonight. I know, okay. Don't judge. I could have picked up one of my American history readers and read my way through boosting up my midterm's 78. My lowest grade, and the only far-out thing in the queue. I don't know if History class and everything about it is just my waterloo or if I'm just plain unlucky with this subject. But shove those bad vibes away. This class is simply way too pakipot with granting me its approval, even after weeks and weeks of painstakingly chewing its narratives. Believe me, I studied for midterm exam and wrote the essays with ample confidence. I really thought I would skyrocket for midterms, but guess what, I got even lower than my prelim. And with anything as pakipot as that, I leave it to regret that it let slip away a hip lover as me.

So no American History tonight and all its tetchie-fying torments. No thesis brain racking. No school suckabaggadicks in my midst at this point. 

I actually have noticed how I function these days. I have been actually rediscovering my dynamics, more than ever, and getting used to my current person. Here's the newest factoid about my body-clock: At daytime, I'm like a dog who poops everywhere. And at night, I'm a cat digging pits where to put my poop. 

This means that during the day, I work and think about work and worry about work like a dog, wherever. Be it in the school cafeteria or at the hallways or at the library. And I don't want any distractions from pooping (just like how we all want a private space to concentrate whenever we defecate). So I work like a dog during the day to put it in simple terms. However, when nighttime comes, I dig holes where to bury these daytime worries, (just like how a cat digs for itself a pit where to expel her waste). I bury my work issues and just forget the shit about them. That is when I become a soul with not a body at night.

Hence tonight, my petty cares for tomorrow are buried in the burst of written thoughts, shrouded in precious mud of coffee, thin clouds of smoke and inanimate shadows.

So the cool moon sits pretty overhead. Mocha is blissfully trickling to emptiness. I write and write words and phrases and statements. I feel so alive, I'm starting to forget about the ticktocks. Worries fly away as smoke evaporates in thin air. I feel like a soul without a body tonight, uncommitted to anything like tomorrow.




-Written on a midnight that is hours ago.