Seclusion Perpetua
(derived from reclusion perpetua, which means permanent imprisonment. But mine means perpetual seclusion from the world.)
"Next time na makita kita, graduate ka na, ha?"
That was the last words of the CPH dean from her sermon a while ago. A few hours before our small chat, someone called and informed me that the dean did not approve my request for MRR extension, that she left a note for me to read. I ditched my plan for today, headed to CPH right away and settled her demands.
"Hindi ko pipirmahan yang letter mo hangga't hindi ka magko-commit sa thesis mo."
This, on the other hand, was my thesis adviser's reprimand when I approached her last week to file for petition to extend my residency. After my adviser's "high mass," I called Ms. Jean of the Music Department right away to tell her that I was forced and thus will definitely take a leave for the whole semester. I reported back to my adviser and told her that all is settled. She immediately signed my papers.
I get it. I am haunted due to my negligence, extended up to seven years because of their mercy. I'm delinquent, and I won't get another chance. I deserve it.
I thought at first that I was a superman, that I could do anything I want, could multitask, could finish my thesis and continue teaching. But then I realized that the ball of the game is not in my hands anymore. I lost the power of choice when I started filing for petitions to extend my residency. Older and more powerful people are dictating what I should do. I'm losing liberty like going back to being a kid.
But a good friend told me that sometimes not having too much options is good. It gives you focus. It leads you to the right path. Another friend said God must have intervened.
So I packed my things in SIC and fulfilled my given word. I have relieved myself from duty to teach and participate in any musical activities, including the orchestra. I am detaching myself to most of what I used to do - and what I used to be - these part few years like having a life imprisonment sentence. Now I will spend the rest of my time in my small room, looking at this computer, squeezing my brains out until I accomplish my mission.
But now I am more focused on what's truly important - my future. And I am grateful that divine intervention took place in my favor.
"Next time na makita kita, graduate ka na, ha?"
That was the last words of the CPH dean from her sermon a while ago. A few hours before our small chat, someone called and informed me that the dean did not approve my request for MRR extension, that she left a note for me to read. I ditched my plan for today, headed to CPH right away and settled her demands.
"Hindi ko pipirmahan yang letter mo hangga't hindi ka magko-commit sa thesis mo."
This, on the other hand, was my thesis adviser's reprimand when I approached her last week to file for petition to extend my residency. After my adviser's "high mass," I called Ms. Jean of the Music Department right away to tell her that I was forced and thus will definitely take a leave for the whole semester. I reported back to my adviser and told her that all is settled. She immediately signed my papers.
I get it. I am haunted due to my negligence, extended up to seven years because of their mercy. I'm delinquent, and I won't get another chance. I deserve it.
I thought at first that I was a superman, that I could do anything I want, could multitask, could finish my thesis and continue teaching. But then I realized that the ball of the game is not in my hands anymore. I lost the power of choice when I started filing for petitions to extend my residency. Older and more powerful people are dictating what I should do. I'm losing liberty like going back to being a kid.
But a good friend told me that sometimes not having too much options is good. It gives you focus. It leads you to the right path. Another friend said God must have intervened.
So I packed my things in SIC and fulfilled my given word. I have relieved myself from duty to teach and participate in any musical activities, including the orchestra. I am detaching myself to most of what I used to do - and what I used to be - these part few years like having a life imprisonment sentence. Now I will spend the rest of my time in my small room, looking at this computer, squeezing my brains out until I accomplish my mission.
But now I am more focused on what's truly important - my future. And I am grateful that divine intervention took place in my favor.
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