A few hours from now September 2015 will finally be over. Yeah. I’m not really a fan of the month. I guess it’s the crowd, the noise, the [work] pressure associated with it.
But wait, don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate-hate September. I just find it stressful. The annual fiesta would draw crowds from all over the nation (and some tourists from the other side of the planet), and the streets would congest, the loudness gets doubled thanks to the addition of vendors populating the sidewalks. I like my city peaceful, thank you. But hey, whatever makes you happy.
The holidays are also tricky, and would sometimes put us teachers at a disadvantage (we also have the college intramurals). So imagine almost two weeks of no [formal] classes. Ah, much time wasted (Giving assignments during these dates has also become a challenge).
Something in my chest hurts a little whenever I would walk around my alma mater. Maybe it’s the changes, the people — or the strangers. This was my home nine years ago. I used to walk on the cement pathways and grassy, muddy roads. I used to hangout in the library, FA foyer & Design Lab to read or study or sleep. I used to enjoy listening to the crunching sound of dry leaves as I walk home late in the afternoon (or evening). I used to love the scent of the flowers of the Narra tree on the battered walkway just near the college covered courts.
They’re still there, perhaps. Same yet different. We became strangers along the way. Along time. Note to self: nostalgia kills. Nostalgia is a poison which embraces the heart, the head, the soul. Nostalgia is warm and cold. Nostalgia is the set of thin fingers playfully strumming my emotional strings. Goddamn feelings.
Ah, damn it. I have a stash of quizzes and exams to check.