Day 2: Why the Numbered Days?

As you may have noticed, I am putting Day Labels on my BEDA posts this month. Why, you ask? (Well, thank you for asking!) First, the "numbered" days  serve to push me toward the goal of legitly BEDA(pril)-ing this year. At the same time, the "numbered" days also represent the very little time I have left as a high school senior, and so I would like to make every day of the final quarter count, and every post this month full of meaning. Not only do I wish to post faithfully this April but also blog about ideas that are (hopefully) just as inspiring/profound/thoughtful to you as they are to me.  Here! We! Go!

Kendall has expressed his frustration in rarely ever having a worthy topic. This morning, in homeroom, he asked me how I can come up with ideas so often. And I responded, "Because I'm always thinking. DUH." The usual Monday-morning blah and my innate tendency to sass Kendall (I'm sorry, Kerms!) made my reply more curt than I had intended it to be but I was really just trying to tell him that he only has to look to find meaning. The meaning of life as a whole or the underlying themes of our very own days surround us and will continue to do so regardless of whether we pay attention or not. Metaphorical resonances don't have to be as obvious as Holden's hunting hat or as subtle as Augustus' unlit cigarettes (until he reveals their metaphorical resonance, of course), but they are always here nevertheless.

When I was little and still new to the idea that God (or a higher being, if that suits you better) watched my every move, I likened my daily life to the episodes of weeknight Filipino soap operas around which our family gathered after dinner. We would watch and eagerly wait for a plot twist here or a surprise there, simply watching for the sake of entertainment. The idea that someone or something else out there interprets my actions, reads between my words, and analyzes the choices I make, was fascinating. As I sat in English class this morning and listened to my peers discuss poetry (I was actually doodling giraffe and anglerfish couples that were very much in love...), I realized that we do the very same thing in literature. We beat books into shapes and forms that we can more closely examine with our hands by endlessly discussing the symbolism here and the metaphors there. We disassemble poems into smaller pieces that we can pinch between a thumb and forefinger, hold them up to the light, and squint our eyes in order to discern the poet's purpose. We unravel the inner works of a story, unwrapping and uncoiling each line of each paragraph of each page of each chapter of a novel. We deliberately look for hidden meanings, but in doing so, we often forget that some meanings are not buried six feet deep but lie in plain sight. The world demands to be noticed,  as the illustrious John Green tells us. So we just need to notice the world.

Sitting in English class, I noticed the curious way with which the light sort of just spilled into the room. In scholarship, I noticed and chuckled at the breathlessness of freedom. Walking to Spanish class, I noticed that the word "alone" and the word "past," when paired together, ring true at two different pitches. In Gov, I let my mind wander and noticed the way I probably could have handled something much better than I did last week. As I looked through the microscope in the Bio lab at lunch time, looking for organisms in the Ala Wai mud-water combo, I noticed the comforting lull of not the silence of silence but the silence of focus. As I worked on my math homework during my free period, I noticed that sometimes it is embarrassing to talk to (the proverbial) you. And after school, I noticed that people don't notice lots of things.

There are so many things to realize, learn, understand, imagine and think about. We just have to notice them, Kendall. And with the numbered days that we have, we've really got no choice.

Risks taken: 17
Hugs:  3
Current food cravings/obsessions: strawberries
Playlist(s) on Repeat: "She Ran(Ed) Away"