Ever get a feeling that tends to go on and off with the seasons? The same goes for myself and I. Whenever I think of spring, I think of gentle rain showers. I think of summer and the palpitating heat arrives to picture. Whenever autumn arrives, it brings along a blusterous gale, and in winter the insistent grey haze obscures the azure sky… Flowers, Sun, leaves and snow are stuff, too… I guess I can put that down.

There is a place on the other side of the ocean that experiences the same seasons. I know of it due to the picture on my bedroom calendar. The image never changes contrast, color, size or saturation. Every now and then, though, I tend to zone out in my bedroom by gazing amid the hour. A black and white lighthouse towers atop a rocky cliff that dives into the crystalline sea, guiding the tempest weary sailors to shore for the years it endured. I got all that just by gazing amid the hour… and by reading the caption.

This place also exists on my Vizio television screen. Men and women take their daily stroll on the cobblestone pavement to the market. A skyline defined by gothic spires and tiled rooftops. Look at pilgrims, ending their on foot journey, and entering the church where the incense burner swings from one end of the hall to the other. Tilting the screen won’t change what is shown; nor will shaking it or cracking it open. For a camera is but a window, and a photo is light on display.

The name of this place changes every time someone asks. The Romans called it Hispania. Catalans call it Espanya. Castilians call it España… Okay, so the name hasn’t changed that much. But for whatever reason, I was told to call this place Spain, and for whatever reason, I had a hunch that my ancestors come from Spain; if not most, then at least one.

I won’t know if this place this place is like until I see it for myself. In this case, I only know through the previous sources I’ve been given. When I get there, what do I hope to achieve? A new experience; a new sense of profound harmony; an additional set of learned and astonishingly attractive friends who don’t like to brag about all the things they have? No, I expected nothing. If I were to go, who would I represent? Myself; my school; my country; one of those, two of those, all of those? But if were to represent all of those, I’d rather have none of those. I could go. I should go. I can never go. I am not going.

So, yea, another academy problem. Click away. Noooo… Don’t.

Several months ago, I applied for the trip to Spain. This wasn’t the first time I applied to travel. The first trip I applied for was the Philippines, but my chances of getting approved was zero. The paper was so negative, after failing, I couldn’t bear hearing it read aloud. In my second chance of application, I thought the odds were better. But because demand was high and space was scarce, it seems that I was chewed out.

The reason I bring this up is because I overheard contemporaries discuss what the delegation will see. I am not bothered that I didn’t get in. I am bothered because I don’t understand the process. I am not sure if I did something wrong, and I don’t know who was on the committee. What I have in my mind are three faceless figures whose hands pull the strings and decide the critical fate of the pupils. Advice from my dad: this is all part of growing up, and I shouldn’t let this single failure bring me down. But this isn’t the only failure, Dad.

Ever get a feeling that tells you you’re falling short of something? The same goes for myself and I, every now and then. The trip doesn’t begin until late March while applications were in November. What do I hope to gain out of sulking? A new experience; a new sense of profound harmony; an additional set of learned and astonishingly attractive friends who don’t like to brag about all the things they have? No, I expect nothing. If you say it is sulking, then I guess that’s what it is. Advice from my teachers: apply for somewhere else. I don’t want to go anywhere else. I am perfectly content with staying here, on the other side of the ocean; admiring my twelve month National Geographic calendar, and my high definition Vizio television screen.