Four months of life-sucking, death-defying, anemia-inducing ordeal. Although that is an exaggeration, it adequately describes what I have been through this semester. I had my ups, my downs, and my sidetracks. But that’s what makes the expedition enthusiastic. I basked under the scalding stare of pressure brought about by errands; errands that is either a predilection towards my chosen career, or towards leisure.

Leisure, I surmise, is a time you give to yourself from yourself. No one gives that to you. But to some extent, it is something we cannot give to ourselves when situation disallows it. It is not an abundant necessity (after all, we need it). If anything, it is scarce. But after a gruesome semester, it is only righteous that I (and everyone involved) gift myself with a leisure I sorely deserve.

We all need a little time where all we do and all we think about is virtually nothing. That may be an impossibility, but we can at least settle for a bar below that. Immersed in a fast-paced world, it is easy to lose ourselves. If we fail to keep track of where we trudged, we might end up surrounded by unfamiliarity. In this supersonic universe, it’s only ordinary that we become engrossed in our journeys that we tend to forget that we can only take so much. Leisure frees us from the grasp of labor, from the torture of unsolicited responsibility, and from the sleep-depriving assignments.

Sometimes in our lives we were once slaves of work; some without the surety of contentment, and some do not even sufficiently reward. We dig our own pit, and bury our own selves. We only get to notice how far we have dug down when we put down our shovels and look up.

The semester has ended, and it couldn’t have been any timelier. The prologue of a short hiatus is a fulminating weather. The downpour of rain has been an ominous signal. It may mark the beginning of a week-long vacation, but it threatens to cut short any planned excursion. It continues to baffle me how so much rain fits in a floating cotton cloud. It’s soaring above is enigmatic, never revealing their secret to petty humans. I could only look up in awe and bewilderment.

A leisure time for myself appended by the serenity of the falling rain, is my idea of a vacation; a staycation. The clammy touch of the breeze induces a soporific demeanor. There’s always something about a cold weather that makes me peregrinate. When the rain drums its mardi gras beat, my thought clambers the overture of imagination. I get lost in a world where I could be god. I could be the harbinger of all things surreal.

Within the custody of an impregnable roof, fastidious walls, and a window pane, I could look outside where the rain falls. They never fall alone. A cheap pen and a dubious notebook on my lap, scribbling and converting scenes into words, I could stay awake till the wee hours of the night. With my thoughts to keep me company, and my self-made characters conversing in front of me, I can make a sudden movie that will never be funded. With the face of the person that makes each day worthwhile for me close to me, I can stare at the horizon, see nothing, but still smile. This is unenviable. But it suits me just fine so long as she’s where she’s supposed to be: within my embrace, allured by her aroma, mesmerize by her eyes, and killed by her smile. It’s ineffable; my feeling for her is, but might as well die trying. =]