Me vs Hurricane Harvey

3:49 P.M.

Well then.

A hurricane has appeared out of nowhere. The hurricane, named Harvey, has formed in just a few days this week and everyone in my state has dropped everything it has been doing up to this point in order to brace for the worst. Stores are being cleared out of food and water, gasoline is being yanked from the pumps en masse, people are staying inside their homes to be safe, and I'm just sitting on my desk writing about all of this.

According to a lot of forecasts, Hurricane Harvey is expected to drop a great amount of rainfall on Houston that ranges from 12-18 inches. This is also expected to happen tonight or tomorrow morning. My city might get flooded again.

Christ.

If my neighborhood gets hit by a lot of rain, the power will no doubt go out; and if the power goes out, there might be no wi-fi for me to have fun with; and if there' no wi-fi for me, there will be complete chaos. This hurricane might be the threshold for our devastation. I can't afford that to happen. Please don't do this to me, Harvey. I don't want to experience the same shit I went through after Hurricane Ike 9 years ago.

Not like this, Harvey. Not like this!

P.S. Reader, I may update this entry as this day enters nightfall. I'll keep you posted..........hopefully.



------



10:40 P.M.


Not a lot of rain has hit us yet. The bulk of the rainfall has dropped on the city of Corpus Christi. It should be about now where the hurricane has finally reached land. I hope everyone over there is safe. We don't need to see any deaths tonight.

As for me, reader, since you're so worried about my well-being, I'm perfectly fine. In the place where I'm living at, only drizzles have appeared throughout the day. On top of that, a gentle but endless stream of cool wind has been accompanying the rain. It has been cloudy too. The sun didn't even come out once during the daytime. I feel the setting right now is giving an ominous tone saying that something bad is going to happen soon. Think of this as the "calm before the storm", reader. I hope this isn't the case though.

Did I just make an uncalled-for pun? Damn it.



------



The next day.

6:27 P.M.


It is a new day but it doesn't really feel like it.

The clouds are still here within my vicinity. They have become ubiquitous. Nothing has changed. I've only experienced drizzles like yesterday. Business is the same as usual. I can't say it as such as to what has happened in Rockport, Texas though. Last night, I saw some guy live streaming on Periscope the destruction Harvey was inflicting on in the town. It looked amazing albeit terrifying. I'll give you the link so that you can see what happened for yourself, reader. Like I said before, it was amazing. I've also heard that a person died there. That's very sad. My thoughts go with the victim's family.

Please stay safe everyone.



------



Some time at 8:20 P.M.


Now it's pouring. The heavy rainfall has shown itself in Houston, and with the way it's going right now, it's not letting up anytime soon. My best estimation is that the rain began at about 7 o'clock this evening. I fear it might get stronger. I could hear a faint sound of lightning going off in the distance from where I'm sitting. It's getting louder and louder by the minute. It's probably coming closer. I hope the power doesn't go out from where I'm living at. I'm not a good fan of the dark. Sure, I can bear with it, but if I stay there for while, I might get scared due to the absence of light. Please don't get worse, rain.



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The next day.

12:11 A.M.


It's still raining.

If this keeps up, the city will be flooded. I don't want to live underwater. I'm not ready to be Aquaman yet. If there's anyone out there living outside of Houston who wants to send me supplies, please do so. Just go to downtown, drop them at a nearby McDonald's, and leave them there. I'll arrive to pick them up soon after. Still though, I have to power through this weather. Fuck off already, rain.



------



Some time at 2:00 P.M.

I did a stream! Take a look!



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9:15 P.M.


It is STILL raining. My goodness. This just keeps going on and on and on and on and ON. One hour it stops and the other it restarts. The city has flooded. My neighborhood has largely flooded. The bayous are overflowing. This is bad, REALLY bad. My worst-case scenarios are actually coming true. I really hope everyone is okay. Please take care of yourself, reader, wherever you may be. If you're wondering about my status, pay no heed. I'm perfectly fine. No need to worry.

Damn you and your rain, Harvey.



------



The next day.

12:25 P.M.


I'm so fucking lucky the lights are still on here; and just as I say that, the rain returns. Fuck. It stopped about 30 minutes ago and now it's back in full force? Damn it. Oh well, I'm going to have to pull through.

Anyway, when the rain stopped, I walked out of my house to see what my street looked like. The area in front of my house was flooded by nearly 1-3 inches. I was a little bit surprised when I saw that but I eventually brushed it off. On top of that, the deluged part of the street was only that small chunk of concrete, so that's good.

Man. To the next night we go...



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4:28 P.M.


Want to know something, reader? Want to know what's happening right now? You guessed correctly! It is STIIILLLLLL raining here in Houston! Goodness gracious.

Well then, today I took a walk around my neighborhood to see if there was any damage here due to the rain. Turns out there wasn't any. The most damage I've seen outside were tiny specks of branches laid around the streets that had fallen from the trees. Other than that, I've seen nothing but rain.

Additionally, earlier in the day, the lights in my house went out twice in quick succession. It would suddenly turn off and then go back on soon after. I was scared for just a split second before the lights went back on. I thought, "Oh great, now the lights have gone out in our place too. I guess our time has come as well." I'm glad that wasn't the case. Since then, the lights haven't gone out.

Steve Harvey, you better explain this shit once your hurricane is long gone.



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The next day.

5:27 P.M.


The weather is cold and I feel like I'm in the season of winter. However, it is not raining right now. That's great to see. The rain before it stopped was less powerful than before--like, from Sunday or so. Today has only shown cold wind and light gray clouds. Because of the absence of rain, some stores have opened up. This gives the families who are short on supplies an opportunity to restock. Once again, great.

I've also received a notification from my university saying that class will resume next week after Labor Day. I guess I now have an extra week of summer vacation because of the Hurricane. I want to say thank you for giving me the extra vacation time, Harvey, but I don't really want to since you caused a plenty amount of devastation to my city. Nevertheless, I'll just give you a look of acknowledgment and that's all. Now fuck on out of here, Hurricane Harvey.



------



6:14 P.M.


The clouds are opening up.

I can finally see the blue sky.

Thank goodness.

It is all over.



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9:33 P.M.


I think I'm going to end this entry here on the day of the 29th of August. These past few days were filled with--hmm, let's see; ah, that's right!--rain. I can't give any concrete thoughts about this since I'm still taking this all in and coping with it. I'll probably reflect on this when I'm ready and able to; but until then, though, I'll see you later, reader.

A Trip Back to Memory Lane.....Again

* written at approximately 7:00 P.M. today


This is my third time doing this walking thing. The weather outside is nice again. I'm currently sitting on a bench in the shade in a park whilst writing on my little blue notebook. The calm breeze slowly blowing past me feels as relaxing as when you're laying down on a grassy plain and looking up at a blue sky on a beautiful day. It's great right now.

It has been a long time--and I do mean a LONG time--since I came back to this place. The last time I came here was, I don't know, maybe, a decade ago? Everything from back then is vastly different from what this park is right now. The old playground on the far right corner of the park is still there. The color painted on the structure hasn't changed, I see. I guess it hasn't deteriorated after all this time. Most of the seats and tables that were in the park are now gone. There's only, like, three tables and one long bench laying down by its side in these premises. Hey, I'm sitting on that bench!

Some soccer goals are set up in the park's big field, which is next to the playground, so I guess that's nice for those fanatics living in this neighborhood to have fun playing their great sport (Quick fact: I love soccer too! This is just an FYI, reader.). As I write, there's a game going on in front of me in which twenty to twenty-five people are playing together; and within this group, the fat players are either positioned at the back of their teams' formations as the center backs or standing near the goals as the goalies. Man, that stuff never changes. Oh, and by the way, one of the fat players appears to be pretty talkative since I can hear him 30 yards away from where I'm sitting at. I think the noise is based on him talking shit to his friends? Well, I don't know. I'll leave that as it is.

The basketball court is still there to no surprise. Ball will never lie. Ball will never die also. The swings, slides, and monkey bars are still there. There are no kids here today so I don't think anyone is going to use them. I don't think I'm going to use them also. I know my age, reader. I'd never go to that place again. Trust me. I've grown.

All of this reminiscing has been great, but I think I now want to move on instead of always looking back to my past. If I keep doing this any while longer I'll probably come to a standstill. I don't want that. Constant stagnation brings no favorable results. Perhaps I should tone down on these kinds of entries and write about other stuff. Yeah, I should do that. Look forward to that, reader.

Me vs Boredom 8

* written tonight at approximately 7:50 P.M.


I should wake up early tomorrow just to mess with my little sister. I should, should I? I feel like picking on her for her first day of school in the morning before she leaves the house. Even if it's just for a little while, I want to make the most of it. Her day is going to begin at six o'clock in the morning, so that means in order for me to bother her to the utmost degree with fierce vigor, I'm going to have to wake up at that time too.b

Oooph... Waking up at 6:00 A.M... That brings back memories.

The feeling of dread hitting you as you're laying on your bed drowsed in sleepiness after you realize you have to go to school is the outright worst. Those irksome melancholic emotions hovering around you as you prepare for your day are things you will be unable to brush off. It nags at you until the moment you set foot on the school grounds, where it then disappears and allows you to take in the toxic high school environment by your lonesome self. While there, you pass through every second, minute, and hour with the impetus of finishing your day and going back to your house to play around with whatever thing you have at your disposal. It could be anything, but as long as you have fun doing it, you don't mind its repercussions. You do these things once you enter your sanctuary after school. However, once nightfall comes, you're forced to go to sleep knowing the fact that you have to repeat this same obnoxious routine the next day. This bothers you to no end right up until you close your eyes in slumber.


I'm sorry. Was I going too far into my past? I think I might've been carried away with my recollection of high school.

Well, have fun, little sister!



Boredom wins Game 8 (Boredom leads series 5-3)

Made out of the Blue

I don't know why, but for some reason, I have the urge to write spontaneously. It has been bugging me for the past 20 minutes. I have no apparent aim. I have no subject in mind. I'm just writing for the heck of it. This must've been like how drug addicts are craving, or, rather, dying for their next fix. Writing is my drug and I want to get my next fix.

Well, since I have nothing to write about, I'll just skim through what I did today. I walked around my neighborhood today with my little sister. We came across a pretty big and wide bayou and met a lost dog roaming the area. It was small, black and white colored, and had an abundance of energy at its disposal, kind of like the relative who was next to me.

The weather outside was nice. I'm talking about the weather in the evening, mind you, not from during the day or afternoon. The heat at that time of day fucking blows. I feel for those people who work under the blazing sun for a good 10 hours every day. It has to be excruciating. All I can do for them is hope for their good health in the future amidst scorching ball of fire and evil. I wish them well.

Now back to the walk. Spending some time with my sister was great. I loved it. She said she enjoyed it too when I asked her how she thought of the activity. This was good for her, I believe. She has nearly 5 days left of her summer vacation before she goes back to school. She needed to have a quick breather. I wonder how she's going to take on high school. I think she'll do well. My other, older sister and I did a quick tour of the school for her after the orientation on Monday so that makes me think we gave her enough information she needed to have to survive there. She better make good use of it.

It's not that strenuous to understand the nooks and crannies of my high school, in my opinion. I'm one of its alumni so I can tell you firsthand that after the first day of my sophomore year there I understood everything. If I did it, then so could she. She should have no problems. She'll be fine.
.
.
.
.
God, she's screwed....

And as Such, the New Generation of Students Arrive to My Former School

*written at approximately 6:30 P.M. today in my high school cafeteria




Here I am in the cafeteria for my little sister's high school orientation basking in the always-familiar smell of my past life within these confines. All I see before me are little kids looking a little anxious about what high school has in store for them. This would be their first time being in my high school, I believe, so it would be safe to assume they're pretty nervous about going here. Surely, I felt the same way when I was in their shoes 4 years ago.

I didn't know what to expect of high school either in the leadup to my first day of sophomore year (I went to two high schools: a 9th grade school & a senior high school). I wondered whether it was going to match my expectations. As a kid, way before I went there, I developed somewhat of an image of what it was supposed to be like, more thanks in large part to the multitude of T.V. shows/movies that I watched. In those programs, high school was presented as a "cool and hip" place to go to. One of them was a movie called "High School Musical".


sigh


I thought dancing maniacally on the tables of the classroom and cafeteria was normal. I also thought making friends was going to be a piece of cake. These shows painted a utopian-like image of the high school life everyone of us in the real world dream of. "Yeah! High school is going to be a blast once I get there!" is what I thought.

Oh, how wrong I was......

As a matter of fact, it wasn't a blast.

I mean, it was fine and all, but it was underwhelming. It didn't fulfill my presumptive expectations, to say the least.

Now that my class graduated 2 years ago (Class of 2015 represent!!) from high school, we've made way for the next bunch of students to complete their 4 years in the same fashion, thus bringing in newer faces.

This generational change is already evident in my little sister's orientation. Seeing this happen makes me feel very old, even though I'm at the current age of 20. For a school, it's just any other day in its year-long routine of curriculum; for me, however, it's anything but. It's a reminder of how I'm really just a spoke on a wheel-- the dynamic wheel of generations--that never stops moving. Nothing's ever going to force it to stop. It's infinitely moving but there's no destination in sight. Once this current crop of students graduate in the future, the group behind them will only repeat the same path. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It'll never stop, but it is what it is. I guess I just have to deal with it.

Love's Sorrow

Such an interesting title.

Such an interesting song.

Such an interesting sound.

How it must be for a musician to play this song.

Does he feel a certain way when he plays it?

Does it reach him in any way?

Does it reach its listeners also?

Does it only convey an emotion that resembles sadness?

Or does it make more than just that?

I'm curious.

I want to know.

Please tell me the answer, Kreisler.

Did it reach you when you wrote this song?

I wonder how it must have been for you.

* written at 5:30 A.M. on August 13th, 2017 in my bed

I Just Cried.....

.....after watching episode number thirteen of "Your Lie in April". This may very well be the first time I've ever cried to an anime show. It's surreal for me to come to terms with this possible fact.

This episode was beautiful, touching, and filled, fittingly, with sorrow. The protagonist, Kōsei Arima, played the piano in front of a crowd in an exhibition gala (or concert). The song he played was "Liebesleid (Love's Sorrow in German)" by one Fritz Kreisler, a famous violinist and composer, and it was done as a way for him to properly say goodbye to his mother who passed away 2 years ago from a severe illness. During his playing sequence, it was revealed that this song was Kōsei's lullaby from when he was a kid.

His performance was exhilarating to watch. He started off filled with anger because prior to walking out onto the stage, a little kid said some things to him backstage in the last episode that riled him up. Fortunately for him, he recovered when he remembered the way his mother played the said piece all those years ago to him in their heartfelt time of joy before she became sick. It's these memories that pushed him forward in changing his originally anger-driven playing style and ultimately finishing the song.

Amidst his playing, he was triumphantly exonerated from his inner demons that came out of his suffering at the hands of his mother, who, at the last couple of years of her life, used up all of her remaining strength to mold and perfect Kōsei's skills as a pianist, even though it was seen by those around them to be draconian. Although they were indeed cruel, his mother did these things because it was, in her mind, the only thing she could do for her son. She wanted to make sure her teachings would have an everlasting effect on him as a musician.

And, in the end, they did.


Then, after he finished playing the piano and walked off the stage, that same little kid from backstage did his turn of playing--on the violin, not the piano, mind you--, but was at first scared of following up the former's masterful-like performance. And just then, as he was thinking about giving up, he saw his own mother, who was squeezing her hands within the crowd praying for her son's success. This sight reminded him of Kōsei's performance and how it was charged by the thoughts of his loved ones. This inspired the kid to play a way that's similar to Arima, which is soft and full of hope for the song to reach the people he wants to reach, like his mother.


sigh


These moments from the thirteenth episode of "Your Lie in April" made me teary-eyed because it reminded me of how much I love my own mother who is alive and in good health. As if I didn't need any more reminders, I was once again taught by the show to cherish the moments I have right now with not just my mom, but with both of my parents. They'll be gone eventually, but they'll be inside of my heart for as long as I live, just like Kōsei having his mom in his heart.




Thanks for telling me this, "Your Lie in April". You might not be half-bad after all.


* written at approximately 11:00 P.M on August 11th, 2017

Me vs Boredom 7

See, reader? Didn't I tell you this series was going to be decided in the seventh game? See!? I told you I wasn't going to be beaten so easily by my own boredom. I came back from a 3-1 deficit to tie the NBA Fin--err, I mean, this series. I'm the 2016 NBA Champion Cleveland Cavaliers now. I'm LeBron James now. I'm the captain--or, rather, LeCaptain--now. No one is going to stop me in my reign of terror over the mental stagnation that is boredom. Sure, I lost countless times to it in the past, but I will not let this occasion idly pass me by.

Now then, what in the fuck am I doing right now? Oh yeah, that's right! I'm writing down on my little 100-sheet college-ruled blue notebook whilst sitting down in boredom.


Wait.


No, I didn't just say that! No! Don't give this game to boredom! No please! I worked so hard to get to this point! I DESERVE TO BE HERE! Give me a break, damn it! If you give boredom this game, I will denounce this entire thing as being rigged! You hear me!? I will not hesitate on doing so! PLEASE! NOOOO--!



Boredom wins Game 7 (Boredom leads series 4-3)



What? This is still going? This is going beyond seven games? Is this ever going to end? No, I don't want to be in an endless cycle! I-I-I change my mind! I don't want to be here anymore! Get me out of here!

Me vs Boredom 6

I'm currently watching another anime show titled "Your Lie in April", or "Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso". Up until now, I've reached episode number 5 of the series. It's a good show. It's extremely funny and has good animation. I'm having a fun time watching it. However, I've heard from various people online talk about how this show is sad but touching and how it compelled them to cry at its conclusion.

Sure, it's not making me cry 5 episodes into the show, but I have a feeling it's going to instead give me a hard punch to my gut in the long run. One hint that's giving me this feeling is a blonde girl with a cheerful and energetic personality. One of the show's main characters, Kaori Miyazono, has been depicted as someone who is suffering from an "anemic-like" illness. It also seems as though she's a regular visitor of a local hospital who goes there to examine whatever they're examining. In addition to that, she has been talking subtly about how she wants the people watching her in musical competitions to remember her playing the violin. It's almost as if she's doing it with the expectation of dying in the near future. It's giving me an eerie feeling, but that's how I feel about it.

One thing that I look for in an anime show is, ironically for me, romance. I mean, who doesn't love a good romance story which grabs your attention to the highest degree? I sure do. That's why I picked this show to watch. Two people falling in love after overcoming a multitude of obstacles leaves me satisfied and happy. Maybe this said description is going to apply to "Your Lie in April"? I'm not taking any bets, but there's only one way to know for sure if it's going to happen, and that is to watch it.

Let's see what happens in "Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso". Shall we, reader?



Pedro wins Game 6 (Series tied 3-3)

This Is Just a Coincidence

HOLY SHIT.

On the day of the protagonist's fictional birthday and during my binge watch of the series, I'm notified of the news that the author of Oregairu, Watari Wataru, is planning to release its latest volume on the 20th of September this year.

I.....don't know what to do. I'm caught off guard by the surprise. This was entirely serendipitous, I swear. I had no idea my binge watch was going to unleash mysterious voodoo magic which would impose the author to release Volume 12 thereafter. Maybe, just maybe, us fans of the series will find out what happens after the conclusion of Volume 11.

Um, I don't know what to say right now. I just felt like writing this out of the blue to express my thoughts on the news.

Holy shit.

Did I do something? I think I did something! I did something!! FUCK YEAH!!!! I DID FUCKING SOMETHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

P.S. I want to reiterate that I had no idea was going to happen. This was just serendipitous (try to figure that word out right now, reader*).




*hint: look at the title



EDIT: I just realized this was my 12th entry into my blog. OH GOD JUST LOOK AT ALL OF THESE SERENDIPITIES!!!!!!!

Me vs Boredom 5

Amidst the ruckus that is the rain, I'm currently watching an anime show titled "Oregairu", or, as it is in its original form: "My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong, As I Expected". It's what you would expect a show with the terms "romantic comedy" to be like, a romantic comedy. However, it has a few twists. To tell you the truth, I've already watched this show 3 times in the past so this is my 4th venture. I love this show so much. It's hilarious, entertaining, down-to-earth, filled with teenage angst drama, and relatable. I'm sure that if you watched this show, reader, you would remember some moments that you experienced while being in high school. It hits you with a nostalgia about your days of youth, those that which irks a certain someone in this special story.

But out of everything and everyone in Oregairu, there is no one I like more than Hachiman Hikigaya, the protagonist of the show. He is essentially me from when I was in high school. He is me in anime form, pretty much, save for the weird eyes and hair.

I can't wait to write about him in the fu--oh shit, you're not supposed to read that part! DON'T LOOK! DON'T LOOK!!!



Pedro wins Game 5 (Boredom leads series 3-2)

Me vs Splashtown

*written at approximately 1:00 P.M. today on my notebook


Welp, here I am, reader, in Splashtown with my family having the time of my life. It is unsurprisingly hot, I'm watching people get wet (don't think wrong), and I'm writing down what I'm thinking in this little notebook that I have under my possession. I don't know what time it is right now because I didn't bring my phone for this period of supposed fun. A breeze of cool wind just hit me and it felt great. This is probably going to be the only time I'm ever going to be here this year, so I guess it is best for me to put my pencil and down and relax in the water park. I need it. That's right. I should just soak this in. I'm not going to experience anything quite like this ever again at a unique day like the 6th of August of 2017, so I should make the most of it. Here's to fun!





1 hour and 30 minutes later

This has gone to shit now.

The sky became cloudy while I was having fun with the family and the lifeguards of the park, thinking the weather was going to get worse at a moment's notice, stopped all of its operation.

Great.

Just fucking great. I can't get even this time peacefully. There always has to be an interruption from somewhere or something whose sole purpose of existence is to fucking fuck me over. Fucking clouds. Fuck you. It never ends. Oh well, it can't be helped, I guess. In addition to that, I don't have my phone in which I can use to pass the time. Maybe not taking it with me was a mistake. However, I do have this notebook. Perhaps, this day won't be wasted, after all. Let's see what happens in the future of this day together, reader.





30 minutes later, I think

The suspension is over! People are now entering the rides. I can now get wet again (don't)! Patience does pay off in the end! Rejoice!





1 or 2 hours later probably

Fun. Happiness. Fun time. Bliss.





30 minutes later

NEVER.

FUCKING.

MIND.

The bad weather has appeared again and the lifeguards are taking their precautions again by stopping the water park AGAIN (I understand why they're doing this since it's part of their protocol but fuck). Everyone is leaving the water again, myself included. Fun time is over again.





bleh (less than 1 hour later)

We've given up. We've decided to change back to our normal clothes and leave the park. Well, it was fun while it lasted, Splashtown. You were awesome. I went to that Texas Tornado thing or whatever and it was scary. The speed took me by surprise and I hung on for my dear life when it was blitzing to the sides of the funnel/tornado. I thought I was going to fall off of the big yellow floatie I was riding on. I kept screaming "OHSHITOHSHITOHSHIT" until it ended. It was fun, though, so it didn't matter in the end.

Despite everything that happened today with the stoppages and all, my family and I had fun. And if we had fun, then the day was not wasted. My legs hurt, but I don't feel any pain. That's because I used them for the enjoyment of my loved ones.

Financial Aid: A Blessing, but Also a Bitch

Today I went to the university I go to for a checkup on my financial aid. Everything went smoothly. My account was updated enough to include the new money that was given to me in the form of a couple of grants. I think the amount revolved around $5,500 in total for the school year, which is great. Now I only need to wait for one more scholarship to come into my account for me to be fully set for class. And with that being said, I can finally relax until the fated first day of the new year. I feel good, very good to be in fact. I wonder how the rest of my class are preparing for their school year. They must be doing the same preparations as me, right? I think so. This is part of the routine we students do in our quest of attaining the highly sought-after college degree.

It’s no easy task getting that degree, that’s for sure. However, with less than two years remaining in my college career, I have been thinking about what it will be like for me after I graduate from college. Some new obstacles will have to be tackled such as housing, employment, food, and transportation. You know what I mean when I say these things, reader. These are necessities adults have to fulfill for themselves, and soon enough, I’ll act like one of tem too.

One thing I don’t have to worry about aside from those issues are loans. Up until now, I’ve only accepted grant and scholarship money. I have NOT accepted loan money. The reason for this is because I’m wary of what will happen once I accept those loans. I will be therefore obligated to pay it back, and that’s something I don’t want to do. I just want to focus on my studies and not worry about money. Sure, I have been the recipient of a fair amount of loan offers from God-knows-where (I honestly don’t want to bother researching about how I got them. I just want to say what I want to say right now.), but it’s not worth it for me to accept them. I can say that without any anxiety because I’m not dependent on that kind of compensation. I’m in a position where I’m able to refuse loans and be fine without it as a result. Just grants and scholarships will do for me.

And for someone like me who is enjoying this luxury, it must be painful to see the rest of the students across the country, not just from my university, who are experiencing the complete opposite of the pros financial aid can bestow on the unfortunate. I may not be precisely correct, but I’m assuming there are students out there figuring out right now how they can pay off debt totaling at approximately $5,000-$100,000. Now then, I’m no big-shot mathematician, but I can safely say these numbers are stupidly big. And if these numbers are big, then that must not be good for poor students like me. Man, some big newspaper should hire me for using great math.

We all know the story about student debt. They are killers. They can destroy your livelihood. It can break your mind. It will follow you around until you die. It is, like time, cruel. It scares me as well. Can you imagine paying back a $10,000 debt immediately after graduating from college? Hell no. I would not like that order, thank you very much. Fortunately for us common folk, there’s a grace period installed before we’re properly charged with the debt, so that’s a plus we can live with. The problem with that, though, is the grace period only last for 6 months, which means you’ll have to work very hard to amass the amount of money you owe in a short time—if you want—so that you won’t have to deal with that debt problem in the future. Some students probably did exactly what I said and got rid of their thorn very quickly. On the other hand, others did not thanks to their own personal issues.

And what happens next to the latter?  If they don’t pay back the loan in a while after the grace period, then the interest rate accompanying it may play a daunting role in ballooning the growth of the said debt. This, in itself, is another problem altogether so I’ll leave that aside. It just gets too annoying for me to elaborate further and I’ll be forced to turn into a financial expert if I do that. Ugh, I’m off-topic.

The point is student debt can get really ugly really quickly and some of them are not capable of dealing with it on their own. They’ll probably fall under the pressure. They will most likely rely on assistance thereafter. And if even that doesn’t work, then they’re screwed. They’ll be forced to attempt to file for a loan forgiveness or cancellation.

That’s not right, though. Students graduating from school shouldn’t worry about paying their debt. They should instead worry about finding a job and be a productive member of society. It’s the ideal situation everyone wants to have, but alas, that’s not the case. Student debt has strained the young Americans of today. It is the result of having no choice but to accept hefty sums of loans for the advancement of our education. Some are lucky to make do with just grants and scholarships, like myself, but others are not.



Although financial aid is largely advertised as a blessing for students, it is, in reality, also a gateway for being entangled and tortured by the chains of debt.

Aftermath

*written at 8:56 P.M. on my notebook with the intention of typing this here later


Strangely enough, I have nothing to offer to you tonight, reader. Hmmm, I wonder why that's the case.

Maybe it's because of the piece I did a couple of days ago. That drained me mentally. I poured everything I had onto that emotionally so I guess it took a toll on my mind. No worries, though. The completion of the passage lifted a tremendous amount of weight off of my shoulders, which was great. I never truly gave my thoughts on anything in an essay form before, so doing it for the first time proved to be a quite a difficult task for me to finish.

*sigh*

Man, that might've been the longest thing I've ever written. It doesn't matter, though, because, in the end, I enjoyed doing it. It sure beats doing mandatory academic research papers, that's for sure.

If you haven't checked it out, please do so.

The One Similarity a Pro Wrestler and a Teacher Both Share

Chris Benoit and Troy Raymond

These are two people I remember from my past. The former was a professional wrestler and the latter was my 6th grade math teacher. They lived completely different lives when compared to each other. But for me, they create wonderful moments that have not left my mind for years. They were both good people in their field of work. Friends and family of the two were known to have been in good terms with them when they were alive.

******

Up until his death, Chris had a family consisted of his loving wife named Nancy, who was a manager for various wrestlers in numerous promotions during the 80s and 90s (who even met Chris while working in the business), and a son named Daniel, who was born in 2000. He had a family and his career was going smoothly. He won a lot—and I do mean a lot—of championships in a plethora of companies such as WWE, WCW, NJPW, ECW, Stampede Wrestling, and much, much more.

In the week before his death, he was scheduled to wrestle at a WWE pay-per-view event named “Vengeance: Night of Champions” against an up-and-coming youngster named C.M. Punk for the ECW Championship. Coincidentally enough, the event was supposed to take place in the city of Houston, Texas, my home town. On the night of June 24th, when the PPV actually happened, Chris no-showed and wasn’t seen anywhere near the Toyota Center.

Chris was always known to be a very physical wrestler. The moves he made in the ring were so stiff his opponents later recollected that they were bordering on the line of being very painful. He was a warrior, but he was reckless at times, too. One of his finishers he always used was the diving headbutt, a move that occurs when you climb up to the top turnbuckle on the corner of the ring, jump off of it, have your arms spread out, and land horizontally on your front side with your head being the first thing to hit your opponent, rendering him “unconscious” under the disguise of kayfabe. Every time after Chris executed the move he would blench around with his arms covering his head as a way to cope with the pain inflicted upon it by the impact of its landing. Repeating this move over and over again eventually took a toll on his head, and as he sustained concussion after concussion for long periods of time, he unknowingly developed dementia which further aggravated his brain.

******

I didn’t know much of anything about Mr. Raymond before I became his homeroom student. He looked very scary thanks to his large intimidating build and height. He had the face of an old veteran who went through serious battles during his military career and didn’t want anyone to talk to him about it and the demeanor of an authoritarian dictator. He looked menacing every time I passed him in the morning on my way to the cafeteria to eat my daily breakfast. I wanted to have no part with him when I was in the 5th grade.

In my next year (6th grade), I was put in a language arts homeroom class with one teacher named Ms. Ramos. Everything was fine and normal a few weeks into the school year until the class was getting filled with new students—transfers, exchange students, all of that jazz. With that happening, it was clear to the administrators of the school that a few kids would have to leave Ms. Ramos’ class to make room for the newbies. You can already see where this was going, reader.

Faced with this predicament, I, being the chivalrous boy that I was, decided to change classrooms for said newbies. I was being polite so I had no choice but to do it. Why would I not do it? C’mon, I was the preeminent good guy. In reality, though, I was forced to change, so any grievance I uttered afterwards were to be heard by deaf ears. In other words, it was pointless for me to say no. And guess whose homeroom class I was put into, reader. That’s right, it was Mr. Raymond’s.

“Shit,” I thought. “I now have to be in his class? God damn it. I didn’t want to be in his class in the first place and now I’m here. Great. Just fucking great.”

These were the kind of thoughts I was thinking the moment I first met him. I was scared to shake his hand when he extended his own upon meeting me. I thought he was going to eat me when he approached me. People of his size weren’t supposed to be in a small intermediate school like where I was currently in. So, when he welcomed me with open arms and a friendly attitude, I was taken aback. It was so surreal I even thought I was being punk’d by Ashton Kutcher, who would then emerge out of nowhere with a mirage of cameras swarming at me to capture my reaction.

A couple of weeks would pass after my first meeting with him and I later realized that he was a cool teacher after all. He cracked jokes with the class. He was friends with everyone. He was a good teacher who made sure all of us students understood whatever lesson he was teaching on any certain day. He later became a good friend of mine, surprisingly enough. Often times he would call me “Planko” in jest as a way of teasing me. I’d get mad as a result and tell him to stop but he never listened to me and my orders. To add insult to injury, he called more stupid names like “Pablo”, “Pancho”, and “Paco”. I hated that. Regardless, he was very good to me that year.

******

The deaths of both these men gave me a great deal of shock when I first heard of them. I mean, I knew it was going to happen eventually, but I didn’t think for a long shot that it would happen way too soon in their lives. They were in their mid-40s when they died. The news came out of nowhere. I couldn’t believe it at first glance. They were gone, both Benoit and Mr. Raymond.

The shock later morphed itself into sadness. The sadness was then converted into questioning. I questioned why it happened on both occasions.

“What happened?”

“Why did it happen?”

“When did it happen?”

“Who did it?”

“Where did it happen?”

It was only then when I watched the news on the television and computer that I later found out what truly happened in both cases.

******

On June 24th, 2007, after not communicating with anyone outside of his household (friends, co-workers, and family) for a few days, Chris Benoit killed his wife and only son in his house by the form of asphyxiation, or strangling. A short while later, he hanged himself and committed suicide.

On the month of August in 2011, Troy Raymond strangled his wife and killed her in their home. He would then “vanish” from the face of the earth after local police discovered her body lying dead in the crime scene. A few hours later, in a hotel in New Orleans, Louisiana, he shot himself in the head and died, committing suicide.


******


My questioning later turned itself into unease in the two times I found out what really happened. I asked myself the kind of questions you would expect to say yourself if you faced this same dilemma as me:

“Why?”

“How could this have happened?”

“WHY!?”

I couldn’t accept it at first, but I eventually came to terms with it. It happened and now they’re dead. I couldn’t do anything to help bring them back so I resigned to that fact of the matter. They really were gone. Such is life. It isn’t fair sometimes.

The more I looked back at their deaths the more it became clear to me. Their deaths were so………

…….alike.

They killed their loved ones and then themselves. They’re a spitting image of each other. It’s still uncomfortable and grim for me to think about even now, even after 10 have passed from the first incident and 6 years have passed from the second.

Their deaths, instead of giving us conclusive answers to their motives and actions, have only opened up more questions, questions in which we have no answer to. The questions I’ve asked myself when digesting the news a long time ago are still being uttered around their lives today. What were their motives? Did anyone notice any irregularities in their behavioral patterns in the days before their deaths? Were they hiding something? Et cetera, et cetera…..

The passing of time has slowly but surely helped us in uncovering just a few answers to the endless stream of questions. When brain analysts examined Chris’ brain to find any abnormalities, they discovered that he possessed the brain of an 85-year old Alzheimer’s patient, which, in broader terms, translates to a bad brain.

According to Troy Raymond’s sister, the couple had “marital issues” a bit before the crime was committed. In fact, it was Troy’s wife who wanted to file for divorce so that she could split up with him in the first place. This, in turn, only opened up even more questions from skeptical people like myself.

If Chris and Troy genuinely had problems with their loved ones, why did they show themselves in public with the appearance of a loving family who yielded to virtually nothing? I didn’t understand. On paper, they were one thing, but from behind the scenes, they were another. That’s what it looked like to me anyway. I still didn’t get it. It didn’t seem right to me. It was idiotic for me to think of them like that. Man, I was very naïve back then.

******

In March of 2004, at WrestleMania XX, after defeating Triple H and Shawn Michaels in the main event for the World Heavyweight Championship, Benoit was embraced by his family to bask in his massive accomplishment. It was a sight for us wrestling fans to witness. Beforehand, he was congratulated by Eddie Guerrero, a longtime friend of his and fellow world champion—WWE Champion to be exact at the time. And when they hugged each other after the final bell had rung, confetti started raining down on the how stage and the wrestlers. It was the absolute peak of Chris’ illustrious career. At long last, his hard work finally materialized to this one great moment of triumph.

In May of 2009, my class was getting ready for a school-wide event named “Sports Day”. It was a day where the students of the entire 6th grade faced off against each other with their classes to see who was the best of the pack. It was organized into various contests. Everyone in my class participated. If I remember correctly, I participated in 3, which was: a 100-meter relay, tug o’ war—where everyone and their momma was eligible--, and a three-legged race. I swear I had so much fun. Outside of these activities, I was allowed to buy candy from stands around the school and eat it in the event. It was all fun. My class was having fun. Mr. Raymond definitely had fun too. To make it better, his wife came to the school to visit us and her husband. She brought some treats for us to eat in-between the activities of the event. They were delicious. That was the only time I saw her when I was in intermediate school, and, according to my intuition, she looked to be in high spirits. You couldn’t sense anything remotely contrary to happiness had you been there at the school, reader.

******

So then, why?

Why?

Why did you do it, Chris Benoit?

Why did you do it, Mr. Raymond?

Upon further questioning myself, it finally hit me.

They were hiding something. That must be it. That was the conclusion I was able to rationally come up with on my own. There must have been things roaming around in their minds that bothered them to the point where they committed those acts of murder. That could be the missing link to both of these mysteries. Perhaps that can explain why Chris didn’t reveal the extent of his head injuries by the use of his brash wrestling moves like the diving headbutt just for the sake of creating a show for the fans, which caused him to have behavioral problems that ultimately killed his family and self. It can also explain why Mr. Raymond killed himself when the police found his wife’s body and suspected him of being the perpetrator. After the fact, they named him a “person of interest” in regards to the case, further proving the suspiciousness behind his actions.

To know the things they were hiding is another mystery in and of itself, so we’ll never truly know what were their legitimate motives. In Benoit’s case, people have theorized countless of times about how he died. Some say he was killed and somebody else must have killed his family instead, others speculate he sustained unreported concussions which damaged him to the point where he acted aggressively at random moments(the most acceptable for a large crowd), and a few have even concluded in their minds that steroids played a major role in the crime.

For Troy’s case, it is much more simple and direct. His verbal bouts with his wife must have had a clear cause to which they engaged in conflict. However, the clear cause will probably never be revealed by either side of the case out of sheer respect for each other’s privacy, and that’s fine. I don’t want to reignite a forgotten flame, so it’s best for me to not have them reminisce any bad memories.

Whatever the case, their last moments on this Earth ruined their legacies for countless of years to come. Even my memory of them has been permanently affected by this. Superficially, Chris Benoit and Mr. Raymond were good and kind men. They were one of a kind. But if you dig deeper into their lives, they were probably hiding something, and they didn’t want anyone to find out what that thing was. Whatever that thing may be, I simply don’t know. Now, when I think of both of these men, I can’t help but remember their deaths. It’s a thing I CAN’T IGNORE.

I will not ignore.

I will never ignore.

It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth every time I remember. I hate it, but I can’t avoid it.

When Chris Jericho, another close friend and fellow wrestling comrade of Benoit, was asked in a Q&A session on Reddit about the possibility of him entering the WWE Hall of Fame—a sort of legend’s club for wrestlers—he replied:

• “Never…. But that notwithstanding, you know, putting that aside, it tarnished the rest of life. I mean, you can’t say the name Chris Benoit without, uh, thinking about that. At least I can’t…There’s no way. I mean, how—first of all, how could you go up there and, you know, do a speech for him? How could you put together a video package and completely ignore all that had happened?”

His thoughts echo that of mine. It’s because of their resoundingly similar deaths that I can’t remember them as ever-loving saints from the past anymore.

******

To conclude, I’d like to write a couple of small letters to the two protagonists of this piece:

To Chris Benoit,

You were a hell of a wrestler. You attained many championships. You were highly regarded as a master of your craft. Everyone loved you. You had a great life. I still don’t completely understand why you did what you did in such an atrocious manner. You should’ve looked after yourself better. Your health was imperative to your well-being. Yeah, being an “old-school warrior” is a good title to have as a wrestler, but was it really worth it? I know this is futile since you’re already gone, but I can’t help saying it regardless. It’s just—you should’ve done more.

To Mr. Raymond,

Killing your wife was not the answer. It just wasn’t. The memories we shared within your classroom were very precious to me. I’m sure they were precious to you too when you were alive. They were, were they? Anyway, I believe I’m the only person as of now who has written about you and your death. Doing this helped put me at ease because I was finally able to break through my indecisiveness about writing this piece and allow my feelings to translate itself onto my notebook and let it speak for itself. In a way, I think of this as something befitting that of closure. I faced head-on the harsh reality that was your death and the details surrounding it. Additionally, your death has given me a learning experience, believe it or not. I learned to never judge a person based on only their looks. You taught me that lesson when we first met and you taught me that again when you pathetically died. So—good bye.

******

A large black cloud floats atop their names accompanied by the sheer shadow of enigma raining down on them. Thanks to their questionable actions, it will never go away.

Me vs Boredom 4

Staying up late has become the norm for me lately. Frankly, it is second-nature to me now. I've virtually mastered the art of the all-nighter.

Staying up late right now made me think of what it was like to be up late at night years ago as a kid. If the me from 10 years ago could look at the me of right now who's sitting at his desk typing this entry on his computer, he'd slap me hard with jealousy. I wouldn't blame him, since he was under a strict curfew by his parents to sleep by 10:30 P.M., or else he'd be fucked by the belt or the power of mom's hand.

Man, my mom's slaps hurt badly back then. I never want to go through that pain again. I cringe at the possibility of seeing that coming back to haunt me again as a 20-year-old. I'm older, but I will always fear her "chingadazos". She had no remorse when doing it. She was unmerciful, too. To experience it first-hand is to survive an onslaught of torture and cursing yourself for ever getting in trouble.

yeesh

I'm happy my mom doesn't do that sort of thing anymore...........Hooray for staying up late.......



Boredom wins Game 4 (Boredom leads series 3-1)