Brain Contour

Did he just ask that?

“Are you a terrorist?” Jeremy threw that question at me as I was about to part my jaws for a big sigh of relief for completing a stressful day at the office. Caught in an awkward situation, I answered, “NO” straight to his face.

Festival of Cultures

I do not care about evidences of heartburn, anxiety, high blood pressure, hyperactivity and many others that caffeine, a type of drug or stimulant found in coffee beans, appears to be a causal factor. Let the medical experts and researchers keep themselves busy gathering compelling evidences of the side effects of drinking coffee, just let me have my daily dose of caffeine.

When I was still in the Philippines, there was one coffee shop that I spent most of my “coffee night” in. Bo’s coffee club was my source of a short mug of dark brewed coffee that went very well with my attempts in solving three crossword puzzles from three news dailies. Most of the time, I went home with the “across” and “down” filled to the last box. Coffee had something to do with my every crossword puzzle success.

Brookings SD Lake Scene

She said “I love you” and hung up the phone. A little girl ran towards her asking “Is daddy at work?” She nodded and gave the child a tight hug – a profound love that very instant, I saw.

I was glancing at them, a photo-perfect mother-daughter pair under the shade of a pale green tree. Leaves were falling on them and sprinkling her every kiss attempt and the girl’s every giggle of anticipation.

Living isn’t fair.

The past ten months in Brookings had been a continual tussle of having faith and not having faith – a fluctuation that, in most instances, opted to stop on the former. Lately, however, my psyche had settled for the latter. The infinitesimal linear membranes of my reasoning that support the conformity of arguments warp into a complex ball-like silhouette that any lawyer’s rebuttal wits may only go about in circles, or, just as worse, end up on dangling ends. In a state of skepticism, there are just few things that may successfully penetrate the core of the ball and rouse me to believing that a coin can be flipped to reveal another side. Show me some love. Show me some actions. Only then, I would have a change of heart.

Brookings, SD

You have to read between the lines: “I dwell in SDSU. Life is WECOTA building”. My life as a student and as a research assistant in SDSU is dyed-in-the-wool to seeing the building daily, to marvelling its rooms and, most appropriately, to exploring the grace of the first floor and the basement (or the dungeon, as we fondly call it).

So what’s worthy of musing over a building – apart from the seeing, marvelling and exploring – with a massive pair of columns at the entrance and a lone window at the basement room that would not even open? Well, as a matter of fact, there are a million and one reasons to reminisce about. Allow me to highlight a few.