I am in the process of organizing my files in the computer when I came across with a not-so-old essay which I have written during my first year days in college. And here it is. Pardon me for some errors that I would not name. I don’t know if this is an easy target essay.
I woke up this morning seeing the golden sunrays slowly sneaking their way through the gaps between the windows and pinning their pretty rays on my face. As I get out of bed and started to tidy it up, I noticed something that was quite different with it. I observed that the mattress has some bulge in the center, like there is something that was placed underneath it. I am not sure of what this object really was that’s why I put my hand beneath and reached for it. My hand moved further and I finally got a hold of it. As I pulled my hand back, I saw that it was an old book. I was wondering how an old book like this would end up under my bed and who would probably put it in there. While I’m contemplating on these questions, I examined the old book and I noticed that it has a leather cover. I ran my fingers over it and felt the rough and dusty surface and I decided to open it, flipping through the pages and found out that it got hundreds of blank yellow pages with some hint of foxing towards the edges and that it also got some faint musty smell. I sat on the bed and looked at the book that is widely open on my lap and keep starring at the blank pages.
Few minutes passed, my imagination geared up and I began envisioning myself writing on these pages. Slowly yet illegibly, I see letters being written and formed into words. In just a few minutes I am able to read the contents being written on it. And these words are about me and about the things that are somehow connected with me.
As I started reading it, I found out that it focuses on my interests and the things I like to do. Relating what I have read is kind of difficult yet I would try my best to recount these things. I would like to start with what I like to do. The first thing I really like is reading books especially novels and I really love it. I started reading novels on my first year in high school when my classmate let me borrow some of her books. It was so strange that she would do such thing because we are not that close enough at that time and there were no reasons that she would let me borrow her novels. On the day of our first examination, she walked up to me and gave me her books saying that she would just let me handle it and when I asked her, she just said that I should just read those books which I have done after the exam. Since then I became fascinated with reading novels especially the English ones. When it comes to the genre of the novel, I would just say that I don’t have any particular genre that I choose to read. I read anything from romance to suspense, drama, adventure, mystery and fantasy novels yet I am more interested in the stories concerning mystery. Because I love the idea of solving crimes and finding out who is the culprit or the killer and I also like uncovering clues. I am as well more interested in classic novels because for me through reading classics I feel I could somehow travel back in time and experience what the people of the past era have experienced. But I also like reading modern written books which are obviously made in an excellent way which surely kept me entertained and at the same time giving me some useful information. With this kind of fascination that I have with reading books, I surely admit that I owe it to that friend of mine who lead me into reading novels with some enthusiasm.
I have also read about the time that I joined a story line and I got the role of the old woman which was the story teller. Back then the role of being a narrator was somewhat already a challenge for me yet performing it as an old woman was more challenging. I had to talk like an old woman while acting and narrating which was so difficult because I have to narrow the opening of my throat just by doing it. I also should crouch and I walked like an old woman with a staff which served as my cane. I’ve been practicing together with the other participants for weeks till the day of the competition finally came. Everyone was bustling and shouting while preparing. Together with my schoolmates in the same year level, we danced and chanted when we were presenting our festival dance. After performing the festival dance, I immediately went to our classroom which served as our quarters and changed my costume with an old woman’s dress. Then I went up to the lady who would assist me in preparing, who was a daughter of my subject teacher back then. First, she dabbed some make up foundations on my face and then put some egg white on it. After several minutes my face tightened and become stretched and she put some black and brown make up on me. She also placed streaks of white latex paint on my hair so it would look like I got some white hair. Then we performed our story line, the thought of uttering deep waray terms in front of lots of people made me nervous but as I moved and talked, my nervousness faded away and I just performed in character. That’s when I conclude that I always get nervous when doing things yet when I start on these things I easily would overcome the nervousness I am feeling. As we finished performing, I relaxed and rested for awhile. My parents and my friends congratulated me upon giving some justification on the old woman character and I thanked them for appreciating what I have done. Because hearing people congratulating or praising you feels like thousands of fireworks being blown into the sky. That’s how I felt then when they appreciated me because it proved that they recognized the efforts that I have done on that performance. Unfortunately we didn’t won and I felt very sad about it yet I also tried to see the bright side of it. Maybe it means that we have to strive harder and do our very best for us to be able to win the next time we perform.
I am about to read another one but as I looked out of the window, the sky was already replacing its yellow blots into dark black shades of ink. I shifted my attention to the old book in my hands and only saw blank yellow pages. My imagination is slowly fading away and with that I know the day was over. And so was my reading. I just stand up and look out the window, thinking to myself that I have spent an entire day just by remembering the things that I would have forgotten already. Making me conclude that this day end up with some pleasant events. I can prove this with the beautiful scenery I am currently witnessing right now making me think that there are wonderful and splendid things that always happen just in a day.