This was once again a searing day. To no surprise at all, the sun has once again asserted its dominance over everything sensible. Although, atop our heads, the sun and its minions of UV aggravating wind battled with a gargantuan raincloud, the earth-dependent creatures goes on with their lives of indifference and selfishness. This day was ponderous. School after-taste is still palatable, and that taste sure does not make me giddy from excitement. If anything, however, that taste has become stale over time. School is no longer an institution of learning, it has become an institution of zombifying students, make them heed and follow whatever the school dictates. Education has relegated into mere listening and taking whatever it is that a speaker of know-it-all babbles in front, hoping all the while that the subject of his/her babbling grasp at least, or parrots every word he/she has talked about. Institutionalized education makes eloquent parrots of students.

Enough of my castigating. It is not whatsoever worthy of the motion of my fingers as I type the complaining keys of my keyboard. A while ago, I paused making this entry, and just lied down my dust-infested bed. Only god knows, if he/she is ever existent, whatever species of micro-creatures crawls and stalks the nooks and crannies of my bed sheet. But whatever! What is invisible to the eye may be essential, but it sure wouldn’t kill us. Going back. As I was lying down my bed, behind my tinted and unopenable glass window pillared by volitionless metal bars, I glanced a queer radiance. Further inspection, I noticed it was not anything artificial, and it sure was not a reflection of a thought-to-be earth friendly light bulb. The moon, though incomplete at this moment in time, never fails to show itself to the world. It is as if it’s showing to the world its undying patience. The moon is exemplary when it comes to waiting. It has long been archly journeying, following its route perfunctorily, hoping to meet its long, lost love. All to no avail. Since time immemorial, not once did his lover ever show herself to their agreed upon tryst. But the moon, dons a shimmering face amidst the ordeal it has been through.

Forgive my vivifying imagining. It always has been a hobby of mine to put life to whatever it is I see that is naturally occurring. For the lack of anything to mumble about here, will you allow me to speak about perfectionism? Just a bit? I have always believed, and I do hold strongly to this belief, though grounded on mere assumption, that people nowadays are afraid of doing anything because they fear they might not do it perfectly, or satisfactorily. Society has worshipped perfectionism for so long that it has placed the people in a state of constant striving for something that’s never going to be attained. Because of the standard that society has placed upon perfectionism, people are now carrying a chuck-a-block of burden of striving for it. If we strive for what cannot be attained, we cannot become ourselves. A tree will never bear fruit if its only goal is to grow high and reach for the sky. Its effort of fruit-bearing will be replaced with an effort of growing tall. Like man who aims to achieve the unachievable won’t be able to achieve what can be achieved. We should look deep inside ourselves what it is that we are capable of, what is our limitations, our strengths, and our flaws, then we should go from there. An almost junked car cannot enter a race if it is not aware that it is going to be junked. A man who isn’t aware that perfectionism is something within the realms of ideation and fantasy can never become someone who is the best of who he is. If we continue to hold on to the ropes that lead to nowhere, we’ll get lost. Grab a shorter rope, and then once you reach the limit of it, grab another one. Perfectionism is a maze, and many have already gotten lost.

I guess my peregrinating ends here. I’ll truncate my thoughtless combustion with a simple insight: patience is a virtue, that is irrefutable, irrevocable, incontrovertible, and indefragable. But too much patience is blind. Too much patience defeats the purpose of being patient in the first place. When you are patient you are pretty sure you are waiting for something to come to be, but when you are no longer sure that what you are waiting for is there, then it has no purpose whatsoever. My eyes are heavy, my fingers are numb, my head is light, and my legs are aching for a good old stretch. The tempting smoothness of my bed allures me in its soothing embrace. I’ll be with you in a while. Do not hold ill-feelings for whatever happens, at the end of every day, it is with you that I place my solace. I’m dying everyday! And I’m also reborn everyday. See you in my next life! =]