i came up with a nifty list of why i'd rather not go to school.*

• the bed is just too comfortable.
• i slept too late last night and i'd rather get as much rest as i can.
• i'm already late for class and don't want to embarrass myself by entering the room.
  
• i know i'm not going to miss much in school today anyways.
• there's a huge assessment due tomorrow, and i want to spend the whole day working on it.
• there's a huge assessment due today, and i didn't do it.
• if there's a test i can just ask people what was on it so i know what to study for.
• i can't risk bumping into that one person i owe money to.
• i'd rather not deal with the awkward silences during lunch time.
• to avoid those awkward silences i continuously eat. i'd be inadvertently losing a lot of weight if i skipped out on this.
• there's no chance of accidentally misplacing a lunchbox/sweatshirt/mobile/textbook at home. at least you'll know you'll find it eventually.
• it's an excuse to stay in my PJs all day.
  
• i get to avoid social interactions. that's always a plus.
• one word: senioritis.

*DISCLAIMER: may be incomplete. in fact, list in theory is infinite and can never be complete.

My eulogy

Before I begin, I would like to thank each and every single one of you for your presence today. Your unwavering support for our family has been monumental, and we are so thankful that you are here.

No matter what age, dealing with the loss of someone that we love is not easy. Despite how inevitable we know it to be, and regardless of how prepared we think we are for it, death is so difficult to accept. Worst of all, it is impossible to pinpoint when it may strike, and it happens even to the best of us. Death is the only constant in life. But I was not aware of the gravity of this statement until grandpa passed away, because until then I used to think he was the only constant in life. I have had the privilege to be able to live under the same roof as my grandpa, and not many people can say that about their grandparents. In sickness and in health, he would always be there, never failing to meet us at the dinner table. In fact, he was the only reason we would ever eat together as a family; the one thing that would get Justine to come down to eat is if I said, “Please, for grandpa”. But he was more than a member in the family – he was the heart of the family. He was a quiet man, but his love truly radiated and touched all of our hearts. Such love prevailed even in his times of weakness and frailty, and even now, now that he has passed.

My sister, all of my cousins and I have such wonderful memories with him, but truly as not as much as we had hoped. When we would go back to the province, he would teach us how he used to play in the beach, using sand balls and sandcastles. During dinner time, he would tell me stories of his youth, like how he used to do track and field, and how he courted grandma. And as I would listen to him I'd see this glint in his eyes, buried underneath a layer of wrinkles, that shined of wisdom and joy. Even in his last few moments here on earth during the holidays, he was such a happy man, truly blessed to be living the life he was. God was so merciful with him, and really showered his life with blessings. To live long enough to watch his children and some of his grandchildren grow, to be comfortable, and to spend over 50 years with the love of his life - I mean, what more could you ask for? His life will always forever remind me that the simplest pleasures in life are at most times the greatest, and that the largest of successes can root from the humblest of beginnings.

God received grandpa into His kingdom very peacefully, in the comfort of his bed and in the presence of his loved ones. I remember the last moment I have with grandpa shortly before this. It was a Wednesday, and although I am frequently late, that day I woke up early enough to greet him good morning. I really am usually late, and it was just so fortunate of me to have had the time in the morning to see him alive one last time. Despite how heartbreaking it is, it reminds me of how good God is to have blessed me with that last memory, and how it really all is in God's plan. Grandpa was so strong for us, battling all that sickness and pain, and now it is time for us to be strong for him. And even in his absence, he left us with one final everlasting gift of love: the foundations of a strong family; a family that was raised from a shrimp pond and grew into loving home in AAVA; a family that he built because he knew that when he would go, he knew we would need each other. Grandpa, you are not here anymore, but I want you to know that you are still the heart in our family. We are so grateful for the little pearls of joy and wisdom that you have instilled in us all. And you will forever be missed, even though you will never leave our hearts. I love you.

• 1984 was a strange book but it was very depressing and immensely thought provoking. there was just so much i understood and did not understand and so many questions that arose but none that i can properly articulate. i like the fact that words can strike up so much controversy, more so that words can create entire civilizations as vile as the one that exists in 1984. after finishing the novel moments ago i have concluded that one of my new year's resolutions is to read more. and maybe one day, write something that instills thought as well, something complete strangers would actually want to read.
• do you have those moments where old songs just randomly pop into your head and you have the sudden urge to listen to them over and over again? i'm having that right now with green eyes by coldplay. no apparent reason, i just really like the way the song sounds.
  
• this is one of my favorite quotes, said by gordy in one of my favorite movies, stand by me: "I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?" i'm talking to a friend i've had that i've known since the 2nd grade. and it's just crazy as hell thinking how much has change, and how different of a person i was back then. and i wonder a lot, if that's how i'm going to spend a majority of my future, looking back and seeing how different it was. i have learned the hard way nostalgia can be a really simply joy, but it can be painful, too.
• the future's fucking scary.