Niggling

Woah. What a day. What a freakin' fucking shitting crapping motherfucking day.

This was really A day.

I prayed for action, and I got it instantly. Thanks, God. But I wish this hear-thy-prayers service of Yours would work excellently everyday, not just on times you feel that the world is in need of graces and blessings and whatnot. Oh wait. Do I have to put that on the comments/suggestions box again? Crap.

Anyways, mom made me go to Mapua Intramuros to re-schedule my MSAE ALONE today. Not veraciously alone, but alone in a way that she stayed at the nearby mall, and made me walk to the aforementioned institute which is roughly the distance from my school to Megamall. At first, I was hesitant as hell. Well, who wouldn't be? I would only pass by Manila if we would go to Baclaran or Quiapo or Divisoria, which has become weirdly intermittent nowadays. So, to put it into absurd and obscene words, I'm still a Manila baby. (EEEW. Just thinking of it makes me cringe so bad.)

It was a very enduring adventure, so to speak. I'll take it as a prerequisite stage for my college life. I know I've been commuting since 4th grade, but this is still one hell of an experience I wouldn't mind having all over and over and over again. As I walked out of the Mapua grounds, I was then thinking to myself.."Hey, why not make a story out of this? Or a crapbook? Or a plastic bottle? Or a doll?". I was about to laugh silently at that meaningless latter part when I realized that it's raining. Hard. Not funny.

I walked as fast as I can to that covered pathway near the golf course that's also near the Manila Bulletin building. I waited for 45 minutes for the rain to..well..go away, I guess. Too bad it didn't, so I just took the risk of being soaked wet and being laughed at and talked about it just so my mom and I can go home already and escape the rush hour madness around the city.

But crap. It was STILL fun. No matter how unfortunate it was, I don't know why I can't whine about it. What a sad wonder.

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I've been observing my misanthropic self lately. And based on evenings spent on the couch, I've been hardly watching the news these days, compared to a few weeks ago wherein I'm more than eager to take in fresh information.

Maybe it's because of my extremely-idealistic belief that the Philippines will cease to exist in a few years.

No, really. With how the people in our government run our country, and by how poverty is killing each and every poor Filipino each day, it will be no wonder if the Pearl of the Pacific will be erased in the world map.

The Lesson: No one should ever listen to a hardcore pessimist. They're worse than mental patients.

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Want an anecdote? I'll give you an idiotic one.

I'll refer to that speaker thing that asks what your order is and you shout what you want to it as 'the speaker'.

Mom and I went to that Taco Bell drive-thru in St. Luke's Hospital in QC a while ago. When the speaker already belted out and asked our orders, mom ordered one crunchwrap. After a few seconds, the speaker asked if we want anything else. Mom made a correction and added another crunchwrap. The speaker wasn't able to hear mom's second reply, so he asked again. Mom shouted, the speaker didn't hear. Repeat the idiosyncratic process about 3 times. Mom, who is already angry at this point, shouted: "ISA PA NGA KASENG CRUNCHCRAP!". Instead of calming her down, I laughed my ass out.

Reminds me of that incident when we went to the McDonald's drive-thru at Katipunan after our review class. Classic.

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By the look of my stretch marks on each of my mammary glands, I think I will not be posting for quite sometime. And no, I will not go to the hospital and have an operation for my boobs. It's just that they can magically predict my future by going into different directions. Now that is what you call a hidden gift.

So here is my crappy article about talents, which I posted last week in my Multiply. It's so long and boring and crappy, nobody ever replied to it. Enjoy if you can.

Talent Schmalent

REclaimer: This is not written for my convenience or whatever. This is actually for one of my closest friends who is going through a very very hard time right now. What type of hard time, you may ask? Well, read between the lines, dumbass.

Talent.

What's in a talent?

Talent is seemingly what people have that they are exceptional on, or for me, it is what you have that gives you that stupid right to be respected. Talent is also that thing you can be proud of that you have, because..well....not all people have what YOU righteously have, ain't it?

I remember one time when I was still in 4th grade, and we were then asked to write our talents in a page of our notebook. I don't know what subject it was for (and for the love of God I'm dead sure that it's so not for math or penmanship), but I recall well that I can't write a single thing. No, really. I would look to my seatmate's notebook to see if we have the same talents, but sadly, he's a goddamn boy who likes to pretend he's Hulk Hogan and play basketball and play some badass game on PlayStation, very au contraire to me. He had a nasty crush on me, though. But that's another story.

And so, our adviser told us to pass our notebooks since he'll check it and show it to our excessively sullen guidance counselor back then. I hurriedly wrote.."I like beating boys and my crush, Alejandro." Wow. What an f-ing talent (and a retard, for that matter). Mom got called by my homosexual adviser and our ever-depressed guidance counselor the very next day. And up to now, mom never brought up that boy-beating talent ever again. That's probably one of those absurd reasons why she sent me to an exclusive school for girls for my high school education. Whatever.

Freshmen year came, and I signed up for this new club called AWL. I can't remember its meaning anymore because they rejected me, and no one ever gave me a special reason why it should be of significance anyway. And so, the very same thing happened again. We were asked to write our talents on a size 1 of a paper (and I probably bugged those senior moderators to death because I kept wondering why papers in SPCP have sizes and stuff. What the hell. They weren't able to explain it to me anyway), and the only thing I was able to write was..'creative writing'. My sixth grade teacher told me that I can write well, and thus I supposed that this probably is my talent after all. And ugh. I thought that rejection I got then was a sign that my sixth grade teacher had a love affair with a relative of mine, or she likes me - A LOT, or she just wants to shut the hell up out of me because I speak and write better than her or she had probably mistaken me for someone I look quite well that works for the school paper. Well, she could've admitted that to me and committed suicide right after. What a bitter hag. A

I was already on the verge of my decision to forget about writing and whatnot, but SIR HOTTIE JOHN showed me the way. Let's just say that he likes the way I write....HEEHEE. What a homo.

Journalism absolutely underdeveloped that writing skill Sir John cultivated. Let's skip that Indian teacher who drained all of our brains by pretending that he was, indeed, a teacher and not some Indian who never knew how to take a bath and use a deodorant.


FAST FORWARD TO NOW.

If someone would ask me to write down my talents in a manila paper, I'm now confident that I can write those things I was able to develop during my high school iife (which will end in four months. HURR-HAY).

Talents are like pets. You buy them when they're little and innocent and ignorant or some whatever adjective you can describe to an animal who likes to be cute for a living. And then through food and love and care you supply them, they develop and grow into..well..adult pets, I suppose. And by that time, all you can do now is brag them around because you worked hard for them. Your pets' mortality rate did not hinder you from caring and loving for it.

God gave us all these things we [shall] excel on. Why do you think will He create quintillions and quintillions of human beings in the first place anyway? To just watch them eat, sleep, and die? Seriously, no. We all have these things which we shall be known for, and which we shall use to be respected or make a stand or whatever. And at the most, these things are the only reason why we can love and appreciate ourselves, isn't it? And by thus, we can finally let our significant other feel that TRUE love he's supposed to be feeling from and to you.

It is possible that you weren't able to find that talent I'm talking about for the past 16 years of your life, but please. Keep in mind that you only have yourself to help you in finding those gifts you have. I for one cannot help you to find your talents. I mean, even your parents can't (I guess). Why? Who the hell can even control what you can and cannot do anyway? You should get my point now. Ikaw lang ang TALAGANG nakaka-alam kung ano ang mga kaya mong gawin at hindi.

And when that time comes when you have finally discovered your inner fortes, you'll finally get the point of this 1000-word shit I wrote for you out of concern and boredom.

Don't ever ever deprive your talents. Don't ever ever ever do those shitty mistakes I''ve done to myself just because I think I'm still underdeveloped. For Christ's sake, WE ARE ALL DEVELOPED ALREADY. Pre-adult is fast approaching, goddamn it.

-Never ever sign up for the school paper, go through the hassles of the highly-competitive screening, then quit it all in the end. People will not respect you.

-Never ever think that people's perceptions will define what you really are. If you are up for the challenge of swimming for 8+ laps just for the sake of proving that you can hence do it, then GO AND DO IT. Never fucking hesitate.

-SO WHAT IF YOU'RE FAT? SO WHAT IF YOU'RE TOO SKINNY? SO WHAT IF YOU'RE SHORT? SO WHAT IF YOU'RE UGLY? Flaws are just God's way of making things unique and funny. If we would ALL look pretty and perfect and other shit, do YOU think that will make things more interesting? I don't really think so. Put yourself in God's shoes. Wouldn't it be boring if all people looked so good? God, watching ANTM bores me to death more than a documentary about sticks in NatGeo does.

-Take all the risks that you can, as long as it is for the good.


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I'm finding what I just wrote very hypocritical and ironic. Well, who said someone can escape the perks of life anyway? I'm probably the next God or something.

And no, I'm not bitter. WTF.