An essay about my day before my 19th Birthday
I was half-awake, half-dead in front of my laptop. I scurried across my stuff, recalling every piece of detail from the previous events of my day. Gladly, nothing happened horrible. I smiled, and burst into laughter reminding how busy and exhilarating my day was. I couldn’t find the answer for the number 1 question about Liquid Phase Chromatography experiment, so I searched the net. I wondered why just go to the lib and grab a book about chromatography. If there could be a 24-hr library just around the corner of G. Apacible Ave. and Magsaysay, the vacant lot would save its purpose. If that happens, I could stay there and look for answers. But a moment has gone by, I felt it. A sudden rush of blood, tingling in my veins, the wilderness beamed in effluence, the night has finally come.
At 12:03 a.m my odd friend, Manuel Portento Jr., of room 239 just here in Ipil Residence Hall greeted me a happy birthday. His tone was jovial, discretely short and pressing as if persuading me on something, persuading me to react nicely to that idea, or just showing how eager he is to come to my birthday party. It was at temperate night, with musk of grass and lemon sipping through the air, I felt that feeling of coming back and moving forward at the same time. I felt stretched by a feeling of loss and anticipation. I felt bad because my 18 years 364 days and 24 hours of existence I made a lot of mistakes. I felt good because I know I am getting into somewhere by the end of my life. A day farther from day we are born is also a day closer to death itself. Life is short, thriving is mad, and parenting and old age can be talked about over a cup of coffee, so I sip one right now. (Sippppppeddd)
I clearly saw my boundaries. That this is me, believing that boundaries do exist, that I am a limitled being, a soul encapsulated in moment in time, restricted, bordered, immobile,….., finite. But if it’s true that the mind is the only one existing (Rene Descartes on Solipsism) I am an infinite being. But then I felt despaired, so I take the condition by which existentialist like my favorite philosophers Kierkegaard, Nietzsche and Sartre used to say, wherein we felt despaired because we seek to find structure in ourselves that is not ours, not our principles. Could I feel the same way? (Sippped!)
What does Adrian want?
Adrian wanted peace, a fortress of solitude, an abbey on top of the Mediterranean cliffs 70 storey high from the ground level. It is the only place where the randomness stops; he could feel there the quietness of his body. The hum in the air, hum. The sound lives inside his head, and peace.
Adrian wants a Starbucks Coffee inside UP campus for he loves coffee and frappe. He wants it because he liked it so much, and so am I.
Adrian wants to live in Upper East Side, Manhattan. He likes it there because he wanted to be a part of the City. It is because the City is luxurious. I LOVE NEW YORK. He wants this to happen now.
Adrian wants to study string physics in Princeton University. He wanted to be a physicist, which was what he dreamt on his High School year book. He wants this to happen now.
Adrian wants a home beside a lighthouse on a beach at Northern Scotland. He dreams about it every single minute he lives. He wants this to happen now.
Adrian wants his first novel “Cervantes” to be published before he turned 25 years old, and he must published it in America.
Adrian wants to be a painter to paint his house by the lighthouse, to paint the sea. He has done it when he was eight years old using oil pain in oslo paper.
Adrian wants to be a Chemical Engineer. He wants this because this is his successful career. He loves his major every single day!
Adrian wants to fall in love. He loves falling in love. He wanted this M girl so bad.
Adrian wants to be a saint. He once dreamt it when he was a Grade 3 student on a Catholic School, he was very shy.
Adrian wants to learn psychology and anthropology. He likes diversity.
Adrian wants to be me.
My name, by the way, is 2006-41324.