Sundays are never my favorite day of the week. I know that in our calendars, it's supposed to be the first day of the week, since it falls on the first column before Monday, Tuesday and all other days of the week. But the truth is, Sundays for me bring an aura of sadness or gloom, like something good is about to end.
Although, Sunday per se isn't so bad. It's the perfect rest day -- the way it was intended to be anyway. My usual Sunday routine would mean waking up late, watching ASAP and The Buzz and going to Mass. And of course, doing the usual lazy stuff like surfing the Internet and watching more TV in between. Pretty bum, right?
But still, I kinda hate the feeling of dread. At the back of my mind, I know that the weekend is about to end. I know that by tomorrow, I would have to go back to Quezon City. I know that after today, it would take five days for me to see my noisy nephews again. Five days before I get to eat home-cooked meals instead of the usual stuff that our friendly 'silugan at Krus Na Ligas has to offer. Five days before I get to relax and forget about my academic woes.
On a deeper and more personal level, Sundays for me have come to signal that the time to 'face the world' is near. It's time to come out of my safety shell, and face what's outside -- its wonders and its cruelty altogether. It's time to stop stalling and do something. Something that more often than not is anything that would really matter -- probably even life changing. The time for downtime, for rest, for licking one's wounds is over. Life's everyday battle is to begin the next day all over again.
"I'm going to the place where love And feeling good don't ever cost a thing.." - Home by Daughtry
Sundays (or the entire weekend for that matter) are indeed, by tradition, for the family -- a day that should be spent at home. There's just no other place I'd want to be right now.
Although, Sunday per se isn't so bad. It's the perfect rest day -- the way it was intended to be anyway. My usual Sunday routine would mean waking up late, watching ASAP and The Buzz and going to Mass. And of course, doing the usual lazy stuff like surfing the Internet and watching more TV in between. Pretty bum, right?
But still, I kinda hate the feeling of dread. At the back of my mind, I know that the weekend is about to end. I know that by tomorrow, I would have to go back to Quezon City. I know that after today, it would take five days for me to see my noisy nephews again. Five days before I get to eat home-cooked meals instead of the usual stuff that our friendly 'silugan at Krus Na Ligas has to offer. Five days before I get to relax and forget about my academic woes.
On a deeper and more personal level, Sundays for me have come to signal that the time to 'face the world' is near. It's time to come out of my safety shell, and face what's outside -- its wonders and its cruelty altogether. It's time to stop stalling and do something. Something that more often than not is anything that would really matter -- probably even life changing. The time for downtime, for rest, for licking one's wounds is over. Life's everyday battle is to begin the next day all over again.
"I'm going to the place where love And feeling good don't ever cost a thing.." - Home by Daughtry
Sundays (or the entire weekend for that matter) are indeed, by tradition, for the family -- a day that should be spent at home. There's just no other place I'd want to be right now.
|