The past couple months have been quite the journey. My original plan for this blog was to sit down and write about why. I wanted to write the whole story, the reasons for why I cried so much, and ached so much, and abided indefinitely. And I actually started drafting this blog as a detailed spiel of everything that happened. But I realized very soon that if I were to actually sit down and talk about everything, it would take me a solid couple days and a solid couple of tens of pages, which I absolutely do not have the time for. Because I’m honestly just trying to sit on the couch and spill the family tea with my grandma this break. But I still want to give the world a little bit of where I was and what was going through my head during everything that happened over this semester. This is the stuff I jotted down as it happened. A lot of it has no context, and if you ever want to sit down and have a bit of deep convo with me, I’ll happily give you the context. But for now, just consider this a page or two of quotes by the (in her dreams) famous Sona Merlyn Tomy ranging from August 2024 to December 2024. I forgot to write down specific dates and times for these lines, which I now regret. But just know that it’s all in chronological order. Some of the lines have just a couple hours of gap between them. Some have a couple days. Some of them have a month, because during some long periods of time, I just wouldn’t write anything down.
There was a sense of care in the eyes of the bus driver. I saw it from the front view mirror of the bus, as he glanced to make sure the passengers sat before starting the bus again.
Only Jesus can save you.
I can taste the love in my food. I can taste the sweetness of her heart through the sugar in this banana bread.
You know what was distracting me at church today? Three golden goldfish some kid left under the pew.
09/03 - It's been a long time since I've prayed for my future spouse, like a whole divine mercy. I used to do everyday. But it had been very dry recently, and I gave up. Idk why tho, I said one yesterday and I said one today. Not for someone, but more of like a for anyone thing. And then out of nowhere, like after a solid couple weeks, the someone texts me. Lord, give me patience. Lord give me wisdom.
This isn’t just one person’s dream come true. This is a dream worth generations.
It’s hard to keep up in this world.
“Pressure is a privilege” - A dear friend.
It’s when I’ve speed-walked 20 minutes and my hair is messed up and there’s sweat on my face, and the sweetest grandma compliments me at the door to church saying, “you look beautiful, young lady” that all my dread washes away gently and seeps into the most flattered smile.
I just engaged in a conversation with a Protestant. I’ve been reading the Catechism of the Catholic Church. I’ve been reading the Bible. I had everything I needed to tell her what the truth was, because I knew the truth. And yet, I feel like I failed.
It’s the little victories y’all.
Don’t surrender to Drake. Cry now so you can laugh later.
People are out there doing big things. Changing the world. And being aware of that is as scary as it is inspiring. “I want to be like them.” — Stop seeing the negative connotation in that. Be like them because they are doing what you dream of doing. Be like them because they are the ones changing the world.
Some people just have really good style. And you know it when ur sprinting the sidewalk, but all of a sudden divert your eyes to the man with the shades in the nice looking car with his windows rolled down, blasting some of the most oddly obscure music you’ve heard. Now that's style.
I need to seriously stop going home and crying like this every weekend. Get it together, Sona.
See, I make my tea open source. If you want my tea you can have it. I don’t gate-keep. I don’t hold back. I can make things sound way more dramatic than they really are, but that’s just because I can’t help but put it that way.
Not her wearing a white skirt on a rainy day. Now that’s confidence. In its realest purest form.
Stretch out your hands. Cry out for mercy. And you will get mercy.
The world is too beautiful for us to ignore it. Notice what you don’t want to notice. Admire what you don’t want to admire.
Ann Chechi, knowing I was sick the whole week, gave me the warmest hug during Mass. Before leaving, she asked if I wanted to light candles with her. I’ve never had a personal habit of doing that. But I remember when I was little Jeremy and I would fight our parents for dollar bills so we could light candles at whatever church we went to. We used to literally fight over who gets to light the candle, and either me or him would cry if the other ended up lighting the candle on their own. I followed Ann up to where mother Mary was. I looked at Mary. Prayed to Mary. Take care of me. Take care of Ann. And as I grabbed for my purse, Ann dropped a 20 in the offertory. “Neeyum randanam kathicho” (you light two as well). I felt loved. Like I had an older sister. Like my own mom and dad were there. Ann made me light not one, but two candles before God. What she didn’t know was that fire was lacking in my life. Passion about how I was living, who I was living for, what I was studying—gone. I felt very lost…. What was lacking in my life was fire. And she made light not one, but two before God.
The whispered thank you penetrated my heart.
It’s been a couple months since I visited Our Lady of Peace. They all have dementia. They wouldn’t remember me regardless. And still, as soon as I got there, Josephine came out and gave me the warmest hug, wrapping me in her frail, aged body. Hugged me again, and kissed me on the cheek. “Oh, I missed you!” she said. I laughed. There’s no way she remembered me. I was thinking about this later though. For the ones that have nobody, the somebody that comes just to see them, is their everybody.
I don’t want to be one of these Einstein-Bros eating cs majors.
I need to be more grateful.
We will never stop complaining. And realizing that is the biggest game changer.
Nothing is more humbling than getting deliverance prayer links sent to you. I sit through them regardless.
“It’s okay if the bare minimum is your maximum.” - A professor to me.
Because the words that mean the world to you now will mean nothing to you in the future. And the words that mean nothing to you now will mean the world to you in the future.
My grandma just called me today and told me not to drop Engineering. Apparently Jesus told her that I would be fine. My mom would’ve never done that. I just wanna go sit somewhere and cry.
It’s when ur sitting in Thornton stacks and you look away from ur code for a second to yawn and see the hottest brown guy sitting in front of you. “Wow, he’s beautiful.” Time to look locked in.
Pain is when our hearts start weighing down something at the back of our throats. Weighing down and down. We keep walking forward. But our insides are weighing down and down, like there’s a bucket with water that you’re trying over and over again to pull up. But the water never comes up. And even after trying over and over again, the back of our throats remain dry.
I crossed Dr. Nolte on the sidewalk and she recognized me. Imagine having to go to the doctor all the time, that you get smiles from them on the sidewalks.
So I dropped not one music class, but two music classes. So basically, I dropped the whole music department.
It’s okay. I remember how I got a 100% on a UVA physics final last semester. I ended College Physics 1 for Engineers with an A. And this was after Physics (basic level, not AP) was the only B on my high school transcript. Everything else was an A. Now don’t get me wrong. I got a 67% on the first UVA Physics midterm. A 33% percent on the second midterm (I’ve never seen a grade as bad as that in my life). But when you’re on your knees, hanging around the church all the time; doing everything and anything for God to notice you, He will. He is a good God. A God that notices. A God that listens. And a God that never ever lets a prayer go unanswered. Midterm 1: 67%. Midterm 2: 33%. How do you get a 100% on the final with that track record? How do you end the class with an A with a track record like that? God, you amaze me.
My professor just bought me a coffee. I feel SO cool. And we had a really good, promising conversation after. I felt like she sees the potential in me that I don’t. It’s the educators that uplift the rest of us. She told me she showed my work to other professors too. My work?! There’s no way. Wow.
I hate mechanical pencils with a deep passion. But I would rather hate mechanical pencils than ever use a wooden one.
I live on JPA. And now I’m on yik yak. America can’t get more American than that. A hoo can’t get hooer than that.
It’s an hour before my Probability midterm. I want to cry. But I have no time to cry. There’s so much more left to study.
CS is no joke
What even was that prob exam 😃 We had 50 minutes to take the exam. I spent a good 6 of them thinking about everything else I could have done with my life. The potential I have in literally everything else but this. Yes, I was considering switching to an education major in the middle of my probability exam. I walked out into the pouring rain. The walk home was painful. I had no umbrella. But then there were short briefs of time where I would stop squinting my eyes and trying to put my hand over my head to cover a couple drops from hitting. And in those short moments I would let my eyes loose, my hands freely moving, and my face up straight. Letting the drops hit my face. Letting nature cry. Letting myself cry with nature. And then after those short moments of a shared cry-hug between me and nature, I would go back to squinting my eyes, keeping my cardigan tight around me, and occasionally moving my hand to be on top of my head. I looked sloshed walking into my apartment building. Like I just came out of the shower. With droplets covering my face and my wet clothes wrapping my body even tighter as I squeaked towards the elevator. I was so ready for a hot girl hot shower. Right before the elevator doors closed, a guy, as rained on as me, except for the fact that he had a raincoat on, slid in.
“What floor,” I asked.
“5th.”
I looked up. It was him. 5th floor guy. My elevator friend :) He didn’t remember my name, but he did remember I was coming back from “church group” the other day. And of course, he commented on how rained on I looked. I threw it right back at him. And before we could say more, the elevator stopped at 3rd. I walked out with a smile. Absolutely sloshed, heart-broken after knowing I failed that midterm, but smiling.
The ones that come in with the homemade matcha are the ones that have their lives together !
Halfway through the battle I realized this is something I could never win.
Don’t give up. Don’t give up, Sona.
And I tried. The harder I fought, the harder I felt set back. This battle was never meant for me. And so I gave it up. But gave it up not to the world. But to God. This isn’t my battle anymore. It’s God’s. And ever since I gave it to God, I was seeing victory after victory.
You know when you’re little and you’re about to cross the street and your dad reaches for your soft little hand with his big, hardened one? That’s how I felt. Like I was crossing the most dangerous highway, hand in hand, with someone who would never let me die. And on that most dangerous highway, I felt safe. At peace. Light.
My brain was thinking. I could feel my logic and reasoning getting stronger. My scores were going up. My hope was higher than ever before. But the credit isn’t mine. Because it was no longer me who was fighting. It was God fighting for me, and this was me experiencing His victory.
My walking speed is cracked.
It’s not that we are lacking anything. The issue is that we are not satisfied with what we have.
You know you’re growing up when a bite into a pocky stick all of a sudden feels like nostalgia.
Sometimes all it takes is changing the screensaver of your computer, the theme of your browser—a vibe reset can help sometimes.
*Sid sriram playing in the background* man I eat too much Hawaiian bread.
And it’s so awkward every time I pass the guy who asked me out to the first year formal. It wasn’t my fault that I had to say no. I was on the train going home when I got his text last year. Plus it was kind of on him for asking the night before the formal too. I see him a lot this year. On the side-walks, on e-way, everywhere else it’s least bound to happen. We still smile at each other. Acknowledge each other’s existence. But there are no words. And following the smile of acknowledgement is a line of shame, a head bowed down low, a continued walk forward, because isn’t that what we’re all taught to do? Walk forward. Move on. Look ahead, not behind.
Never. Ever. Touch the top of an electric stove to check if it’s hot. Let me explain the burn. It was just a small sting at first, and then it turned into a sharp-edged pressure on the side of my finger. Spreading to its neighboring fingers. It felt like the different nerves of my hands were deteriorating one at a time. A tear slid down so easily. Not because it pained me, but because I wasn’t able to type. The code was waiting to be written. And the clock was ticking. I went on tik tok web trying to forget everything for a second. I closed it after 10 minutes. No pain. A false hope lasted for about 10 seconds before again like a flaring siren the pain shot up. And then I turned to something that was calling to me. My rosary. I held it with strength. Prayed the rosary, put it around my neck. And then I was fine. The pain subsided.
I spent 1.5 hours at TA office hours. I could tell he was so done with me when he practically started typing code into my computer. Sweet guy though, and my code was written by the time I left. I came back and made a bowl of ramen. Because sometimes a bowl of ramen is exactly what a burnt, humbled brain needs.
I went to judge a kids robotics competition today. I had to, to fulfill a service requirement. Interestingly, there were a surprising amount of neurodivergent kids there. Kids whose first language was not English. Kids who found a place for themselves doing this. And the most beautiful part of that was the way the team members uplifted each other, helped each other out in their presentations, the pats on the back, and the side high-fives that I couldn’t help but notice as I sat critically on the judge panel. In so many ways, giving up a Saturday to go sit on a judging panel rekindled a love for Engineering in me.
There are these study booths in the bottom floor of our apartment. My head was beaming. I needed a break from studying. I got up from my booth and plopped myself onto the sofa right next to it. Pulled out the litany to the sacred heart of Jesus, prayed it to calm myself down. Hohnen Ford playing through my headphones. I get back up after a short break and I see in the booth right behind where I was sitting, a girl with her head resting wearily on her hands as she rolled the beads of a beautiful rosary through her fingers. Wow, it wasn’t just me who was calling to Mary, seeking her aide. Those behind me and in front of me. The people whose names I do not know. We were all calling on the same mother. The mother who gives us confidence that she will make our case before her son, and bring us nothing but the best.
A speed bump is not a crosswalk. Get it together, Sona.
I'm sitting out in the booths grinding through the last couple hours before my Probability Final. The cleaning man is sweeping. His girl is on the line while he is sweeping. Her voice is beautiful, and he has the biggest smile on his face while sweeping. And I am sitting in a comfortable chair, privileged to be at this university, studying to become an Software Engineer with a huge frown on my face because I just got the practice problem wrong. My privileged life is really not beating an underprivileged life in love right now.
You don’t need this coffee right now. You’re better than that.
I decided to grab lunch at Bodos with my FOCUS Missionary, Francesca, the weekend before I left for the semester. “So how’s it been? How was your semester?” she asked. The egg bagel was hitting so hard as usual. “Yeah it was good…”
*proceeds to recount everything I actually wanted this blog to be about*
Next thing you know, I’m crying into Francesca’s arms. She’s holding my hand tight. Letting me cry. And then wiping the tears off my face with her own hands. What a gift it is to be loved like that.