Goodbye Resolutions

I'm writing here using this new Google Chrome. Yes, I joined the bandwagon of browser afficionados, and I can't blame them for falling in love with this. I mean sure, Firefox 3 is alright, but Google Chrome is better...WAAAY better. It looks really nice in its own simplicity. Really.

Not that I'm advertising it or anything.

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My christmas was much better than last year's. This time, I spent my Christmas Eve eating pizza and ham my brother and sister and the friggin cockroach which kept on pretending that he's this cute bird. To that cockroach: you'll never be a bird, for the love of God. I watched in awe as my sister opened her gifts from her classmates, and kinda pitied my ass for not being able to open at least one present because I've opened them all already. It would have been really nice though if my mom had bought the camera on her own and wrapped it and placed it under the Christmas tree. And then come Christmas Eve, I would grab that heavy box with my name on it and open it and scream "OH MY FRIGGIN GOD NO FRIGGIN WAY!" five times over, and be slapped by mom. But then she had to spoil the Christmas spirit by giving me money to buy it on my own. Aww, shucks. Someone's saving the drama for next year.

It was kinda weird though that even if I listened to this radio station which kept on playing christmas carols all week long, my system wasn't able to get hold of that Christmas feeling. God, we even watched this animated film on IMAX about Snowman wanting to take over Santa's place on Christmas day, and I still can't grasp of what's clearly happening, which is duh, Christmas. Until now that Christmas day is already over, the spirit is still yet to enter my system. Well, it's a bit too late now.

I don't know about you, but I think I am really getting too old for Christmas. At 17, I'm already apathetic to it and God knows how much more this apathy could get when I reach my 20's. I was just not in the mood to give gifts nor receive them, even if I kept on humming Sleigh Ride until now. Hence, the inferior number of gifts. 

But you know what? Suck it. I don't care if I didn't receive a lot of gifts this year. It's not MY fault that Christmas doesn't like me. I don't like him either anyways.

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I know you've been waiting all year for this. 

Oh yes. Yes it is. 

I present you, my invisible audience, Lorainne's Unfulfilled Resolutions of 2008.

2008 has been such a sucky year, contrary to what Chinese people thought of it last year as being a lucky year since it has the number 8. And we all know that number 8 is considered lucky because 8 has no ends, therefore making the luck circulate in an enlosed area only. Lucky 8, being concentrated in an area, obviously means that it is perennial. I used to believe that one can never go wrong with this number, because aside from the fact that my grandmother who is part-Chinese would always point it out whenever she gets the chance, I loved doodling the number 8 till the paper tears out during Math class because I don't have to make an effort to lift my hand off the surface. My pen would just go round and round and round on the twisted circle, and for reasons unknown I found pleasure in doing so. 

But the number 8 did not do any luck for this year, as all of us had bear witness to so many devastating things that happened. I for one was seriously pissed off at the gas prices that kept on increasing in the middle of the year. I was not able to enjoy my summer before college starts because fare prices were unreachable for quite sometime. And when it was time for college, I had to literally squish myself in the congested train just to get to school. Gargantuan numbers of people kept on swarming to the metro's train lines, and yeah, I think my claustrophobia has reached its second stage. I mean, if it has one or something. I, well, died. But the effort was all worth it because I luckily got exemplary grades for my first term, giving me the all the privileges only a dean's lister could get.

As if crashing stocks weren't enough, the world awoke to the news that Lehman Brothers, a high-rolling investment firm, filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection. This means simply means that they're out of moolah, and every bank that had invested in this firm is dead meat. It seems really harmless, if you're looking at it on a really general point of view. But if you're smart and you know better than to be all apathetic about this, you would know that the mere filing of Lehman Brothers for bankruptcy lighted the wick of the candle of global financial crisis. After this, other companies and firms stopped hiding the truth that they are all suffering the strong verge of bankruptcy. A lot of jobs were cut, and inflation rate hiked to colossal percentages. It was like the modernized version of The Great Depression, only much more depressing because I was deeply affected by all of this. My dad works in a bank in Europe, making him very susceptible of losing his job anytime. This depressed me for quite some time, sure. But I moved on and just prayed to God that he stays where he is because he has a daughter who is about to finish her degree in four years. 

Many other disastrous happenings occurred and well, I need not to elucidate them all to you. God, that's what CNN.com is for, goddamn it. But it's nice to know that we all managed to get through the year that was. May we all endure all of this shortcomings that 2008 have brought us, and may 2009 be a year of relief because dammit, 2008 redefined bullshitness right before our faces.

Alright, enough words of wisdom. Let's get it oooon.

To see the real post, click here.

Lorainne's Unfulfilled Resolutions for 2008

1. Do a damn cold turkey regarding your Coke addiction.

AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN. This is probably the fifth time I made this resolution, and I swear to God, I just cannot put the damn thing into action. Every single time I see a bottle of Coke, I would instantly have this heinous thirst all of a sudden for it and I would do anything to have it in my throat. I was like a monstrous vampire who has this weird hankering for carbonated blood. When I entered college, my unearthly yearning for coke was satisfied because of the countless stalls that are selling the drink at the cheapest prize possible. And as if that wasn't enough, there are vending machines all over the campus, tempting me to stash some cash in exchange for an ice-cold can of coke.

I don't really know when will I stop drinking coke. I think it'll be better if I just stop making this a resolution for a new year because for the friggin love of God, it never ever happens. Somebody please kill me if I drink another bottle.

2. Spend less time on Bill Gates' rip-off.(PC, hello. Bullcrap. Don't pretend he didn't copy Jobs' binary codes just so he can have his own empire. Shame. He even copied Stephen Hawking's face. I will not be surprised if he has Beyonce's ass, or Angelina's lips.)

This one was very much violated. I'm already in college and paperworks are much much heavier than the ones we used to have in high school. My professor even told us that you can't survive in the campus without a laptop computer, making this resolution much more impossible to do than ever. I think I'll try to just lessen my Internet usage, for my own good. 

3. Stop being such an agnostic BS. 

I already stopped questioning God two years ago, and I must admit, it's kinda hard resisting to ask the same questions again that I used to have when I was still on the peak of my religion confusion. What's harder is studying in a Catholic university that seemingly lacks teenagers who have religious lapses or whatever. That being said, I can't help but divert back to where I was before I started raising questions; a catholic schoolgirl (there's no porn here, for crying out loud you perv you). I mean, sure, it does look like I'm changing, but I'm really not. My heart is still out there, looking for answers people around me can't provide. What's worse is that everytime I try to ask my own mother, she would accuse me of being a member of the dark side of some sort and would dig up my drawers for proof. 

4. Cut down the fat, kiddo. 

Like #1, I've been making this resolution incessantly already. But to my surprise, I was able to shed a few fat without starving my ass to death. All thanks to my parents who keep on restricting me to live in a dorm or boarding house that is close to my freaking far school. At first, I thought that I'm in for my own death because of the great tediousness commuting has brought about for my first few weeks of college. I was so not used to climbing up really high stairs and walking great distances. Never in my life had I even thought that I can climb my way up to the 9th floor of a building. But I did, I really did. 

5. Stop making expectations already and learn from your past mistakes that has to do with expecting stuff. 

I expected a lot of things that I am now regretting. Regretting that I even thought of it in the first place, and regretting that I did not appreciate other options. Expectations are pretty much normal, anyway. What makes them abnormal is how us humans react towards it. Some of us came out ecstatic, and a hefty amount came out defeated. 

I came out ecstatic.

6. Don't ever ever consider picking up that cancer stick.

Oh God, I don't even know if there's a word that can describe how I highly-violated this resolution.

And I don't even want to elaborate the fuckingness of it all.

But then I suddenly remembered that this resolution list I made last year is to friggin long, and not all of them was even put into action because it quickly dissolved into microscopic particles right at the end of the first quarter of this year. So that alone makes this list, by far, the most useless list I've made in my whole life. God, my Christmas Wish List was much better.

So, in honor of my non-conformity and love for practicality, I will not be making any resolutions for the upcoming year, which is 2009. I can simply change without any stupid list that dictates what I should or should not do. It's like having this small elf on my shoulders, reminding me of my norms that I made in order to be a better person. And I don't need no elf. 

Because every imbecile mistake already made me a better person. I don't think any other list can hold a candle to that. Not even my mom's grocery list that I once modified for my favor. Damn, I've never received such a long litany about chocolates in my whole seventeen years of living. 

So yeah. If you want me to change, pray to God that I make stupid decisions again. I will not be accepting suggestions from any of you. 

FAIL

Course card distribution day yesterday.

Goodbye DL-ship.

I did not fail a subject, but GAH. I so wanted to be a dean's lister forever. I know I can, but I slacked off. I slacked a term off. And there's no other person to blame but myself.

I can't promise that I'll get that slot back come next term. I have integral calculus, algebra 2, chemistry, and physics to deal with, for Christ's sake. I'll be lucky already if I pass them all single-handedly. The only thing I can tell is that I'll stop procrastinating and foolin' around. I don't ever wanna see a grade of 1 on a course card. Not even for nonsensical subjects like PE and Oral Communications. I am not mediocre.

And I'll prove it to you. You just wait.

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Yesterday was the ultimate roller coaster of emotions. Aside from the fact that it was course card distribution day, it was also yesterday that I am to buy my Christmas gift from my parents - a Nikon D60 DSLR camera. I know they thought that I deserve it, because of those high grades I keep on getting last term. Since both of them have been really busy with their own lives for the past few months, they didn't have an idea of my academic standing before deciding to give me what I've always wanted. I don't know if that's a relief or anything because once they find out that I just got a 1 on my analytic geometry subject, they'll surely throw my Nikon away.

Well, I'm praying that they won't.

Anyways, so yeah I went to school nervous as hell. I wore my Disneyland shirt yesterday to hide the darkness I pretty much felt that morning. It was like the grim reaper appeared with his scythe while I was doing my thing in the bathroom, just to say that he'll finally take my depressing life that afternoon. I'd rather have my life taken by some weird guy hooded with this black gown than suffer the rest of my college life being an irregular student. I mean, no offense to anybody with that academic status, but I don't think I can bear the varying fallout of it all. I'm used to getting high grades, and it would be pretty devastating to the whole clan if I suddenly receive a failing grade. They'll probably disown me, much to my dismay.

The nervousness I felt is relatively superior to that of first term's course card distribution day. This time, I was pretty much sure that I'm gonna fail almost four of my seven subjects, namely: graphics, theology, solid mensuration, and analytic geometry. I still had my hopes up for the last two, but for drawing and theology class? There exists no way that I could get through them. I failed to submit a major requirement for theology, and I got really low scores for my quizzes in graphics class. It would take some goddamn miracle for me to even get a 1.0 (passing grade).

I was slowly climbing my way to the third floor of Velasco Hall when Chino suddenly bursted to my sight with an ecstatic expression in his face. He need not tell me what just happened - for sure, he passed analytic geometry. I looked at him and he was smiling like hell as he told me that he got a 2.0. Oh. How surprising. NOT. I sighed heavily as he escorted me to that room where Mr. Razon was waiting for his students to come and get their course cards. As I was about to grasp the door knob, some of my blockmates came out on the other side of the room, exclaiming their grievances over their 0.0's. My heart pounded harder as I heard them talk more about it. I just quickly rammed the door open and strolled to get my course card. My professor handed it to me, and I hastily looked at it.

1.0

Did I read that right?

Yes. 1.0, written with a black sign pen with a tip probably around 0.5-0.7. I passed. Not with flying colors, but I passed. I don't have to repeat the course, because I passed.

Was I happy about it? Hell no. Dad would kill me for sure. And how about my mother? God, she would chop me to pieces till I say and mean that I'll try harder to get a 4.0 in hell. They just don't understand that I'm taking up one of the hardest known courses in the land, and getting a friggin 1.0 in a math subject is already a glass of cold water on a hot day. Yeah well maybe they'll probably get it all when I finally get my first 0.0 come next term or the term after next term or whenever.

I just shrugged my thoughts off and walked with Chino to buy some paper bag in the bookstore for my stuff. And by stuff, I mean people's christmas gifts, a letter, and my course card. I ended up buying this simple bag with my school's name printed on it and a pack of envelopes for the aforementioned letter. Spent a total of a hundred and thirty bucks, and I'm all good.

It was all too early for us to go to Carriedo, and for sure my maid is yet to leave the house with my camera money. To kill time. we just sat in those benches in the amphitheater and relished the cold morning air. I was babbling absurdly random things to Chino but in the corner of my mind, my guilt is hitting me like crazy. Don't you have a heart? Go and buy some gifts for your college friends! They've been such good people to you and you're just here, receiving their gifts? You deserve to be fucked by your own life! Man, my guilt is a monstrosity. But it did little to persuade me to buy gifts. I am not smitten by the Christmas spirit; ergo, I will not be buying any gifts - not even for myself.

William suddenly came to the scene and gave us the news that he got a 2.0. Ces loomed and told us that she got a 1.5. Looks like we have a party here...a party of low grades. I'm the life of that party, in case you're wondering.

(God, this is taking too slow)

Fast-forwarding to the part where we ended up going to Chino's condominium to leave our things before going to Carriedo to buy the camera, we left Burgundy and crossed the street to catch the train to our destination. I should be really excited, because hot damn, I'll be buying a camera that I've been wanting for more than a year already. But because I know that I'll be buying something that would be confiscated in the end, provided that I fail a subject, I just cannot, for the friggin love of God, ball up a consistent emotion. Well, just look on the bright side of it all: if I would be homogenuously excited, my friends would surely leave me all alone because of my incessant prancing which I am unluckily susceptible of exercising when I am ecstatic about something. If I would be all too nervous about my grades, I would depress the shit out of them - and they're already depressed about their respective grades. I don't want to add up some weight to their burdens. I'm a good friend. No, really. (*insert snickering here*)

I treated them for lunch because heck, that's the least I could do for dragging them with me. We prattled over our empty plates for a couple of minutes while waiting for my maid. When she finally appeared, we went straight to Henry's and bought the love of my life (and forever will be, just in case I end up being a spinster. I hope not.). While the store clerk was looking for a box of the camera that I requested for, I realized that the scene is just all too overwhelming. I mean, here I am, buying my camera with my new friends in the most dubious place ever for the first time. All of it, for the first time. I wanted to burst in tears right there and then if it weren't for my fucked-up memory that keeps on pointing out that I'm gonna fail graphics and theology. Damn it.

After buying the camera, we hastily went back to Chino's condominium to retrieve our things and went back to Velasco Hall to get our differential calculus course card. Don't ask me for the grade, though. It's already enough that you know that I passed it. Save me from my own humiliation, please. I went down to the lobby of the building and waited for Chino to get his course card for graphics because if it isn't still obvious enough, I don't want to get my course card for a subject that I know I failed terribly. My eyes diverted to the sight of Chino going down the stairs with a smirk on his face. Yeah, like what the fucking hell, he passed with flying colors again. He handed my course card and and and...

No 0.0. Just 3.0. THREE point zero. What in the name of miracles. I passed!

And I don't really want to narrate how the rest of that day went by. My happiness was suddenly lifted to a stage higher upon receiving my theology course card from Ces when we went to Andrew building. 4.0. FOUR. Four. How the hell did that just happen?

And you know what? I don't want to ask questions anymore. Because I'm finally happy and contented with my life, no matter how sucky it has been for the past few weeks. And really, I owe it all to nobody but God. (Don't worry, this post isn't a homily in disguise. I just want to express my gratitude..)

So what if I just erased my smarty-pantsy image by getting a 1.0 in analytic geometry? I'm still smart on my own, and I need not to hear other people say it. So what if I made an ass out of myself by getting a ticket out of the dean's list for second term? What matters is that I passed all of my subjects, and there's a lot of room for improvement, and much less for maintenance, which is something I'm thankful for.

I'm no sourgraping piece of fat ass. I'm just finally, finally and finally happy.

162 Bucks

God, this blog's a total mess. Okay. Just to clear things up, Introversion is in no way gonna shut itself down because the owner is too busy to friggin update it. But I'm very much fearing that it might do so that's why amid my lethargy, I am gonna blog. Oh yes. I. Am. Gonna. Blog.

Alright. First things first; Twilight the Movie.

Having read the superficial novel approximately eleven months ago (a far cry to the mob of newbies that the movie bore. I was at National Bookstore the other day, looking for Haruki Murakami's After Dark novel when I came across this group of people dressed in black, looking for different books from the saga. Too bad that the bookstore's out of everything with Edward Cullen in it. Or rather, too good. I'm a bad person - deal with it.), I was sandwiched between two judgments of what the movie will turn out to be; overrated and superficial to the left, excellent on the right. But as vast information about the movie quickly spread like a disease through various media, I was more like leaning to the overrated side. If you know me enough, then you would know why.

And so, my judgment proved to be so right all along - and more.

I watched the movie a week late after it was shown in the country. For one, I don't want to be in a cinema full of infatuated teenagers like my sister who would swoon everytime a part of that vampire looms into a scene. I watch films because of their artistic attributes, not because everybody's so into it and it's hitting box office records like hell. Of course, how would one look into a film as an art if everyone keeps showing their infatuation to a movie's character? Like, what the hell was that? Secondly, I was so busy with so many things on the week that it was shown that's why I relied on my sister, who is still very much drenched in her own smitten vampire fantasies, to make first-hand critiques of the movie (which, upon realizing it, turned out to be one of those dumb decisons I've made). She said it was really good, and kakakilig (kinda like infatuating).

So wrong. So so soo wrong.

In the spirit of a true introvert, I watched the movie alone at the most undesiring moviehouse in the planet - Megamall. I was supposed to watch at Shang Cineplex, but I don't wanna risk my life and precious calories by walking all the way to Megamall after the movie. I have to commute all the way home at that day, and surely enough, there exists no FX terminal in Shang. So yeah. I bought one ticket that cost me 162 bucks, and stopped by the snack bar to buy a large coke drink so I could at least do something when the movie's boring me to pieces. I hurried to the moviehouse and found myself a suitable seat just in case I don't want to finish the movie anymore - right at the back of the aisle. Works everytime.

So yeah, I arrived in that scene where Edward delivers one of those many famous cheesy lines in the book; I'll do whatever it takes to make you safe again. Cringe, baby. Cringing moment at its finest. I don't know why I even bothered to stay in the moviehouse and wait for the film to rewind so I can watch it again from the start. Maybe because I have to give some value for the 162 bucks I paid for this vampire movie about a vampire book I've read several months ago. I went out of the moviehouse at that La Push scene because clearly, I can't stand my distaste anymore.

I didn't like it, and you don't have to hate me for it. After all, it takes real art and substance for a film to please someone like me.

Don't be like my sister and be so utterly contented with movies like this. Raise your standards, even for just a bit. I know we can't all be credible film critics, but all of us can see what is clearly good and bad.

Ugh. Just give me my 162 bucks back.

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I bought Milan Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being yesterday and I swear to God, I can't stop reading. Just seriously can't. I finally found that one book that is more than what it's worth.

I shared my mother one good realization I read in the book:

We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.

Nice, isn't it? But my mother, being the total person of authority that she thinks she really is, smirked at me and blurted out something like 'Only God knows our past...don't believe in books'.

I've never been so dumbfounded in my whole egotistical life. I wish I knew what the hell she really meant. Reminds me of this post - a lot.

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I've been blushing a lot these days.

Maybe I am really happy, after all.

Thank you, you.

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I Just Blogged 8

As I'm writing this, I'm pretty much wondering why in the world my mother bought me this spanking new compass that has this radius adjustment situated below the holder. I remember asking her to buy me a cheapass rotring compass earlier this afternoon because being a genuine idiot that I truly am, I accidentally chopped off the sharpened lead last week during graphics class. I knew about it only last Friday, while re-doing the truncated cone plate. With my amateur lead-replacing skills, I wasn't able to fix it. God, I even managed to break the remaining leads.

So yeah, while reviewing partial derivatives for our calculus quiz tomorrow, I fell asleep (having slept at already 5am this morning because of my ever unrelenting manic depression and paranoia). Then I had the weirdest dream ever.

In the dream, I was watching porn with my family. Like, what the fucking fuck, right? Oh for crying out loud, I am not in my right state to elucidate all of that.

You know sometimes, it's a good thing to get disturbed by that irritating sound your phone makes when it vibrates against a table. And for that, I just have to thank Chino for calling up. You have no idea how much that call saved my, um, innocence (if I still have one, that is). Anyways, being the good friend that I am, I tried my very best to answer his questions while defying this strong gravity on my bed. The cushions were practically dragging me back to sleep, for Christ's sake.

I heard my mom's voice boom outside the walls of my room. I hurriedly went out to retrieve my new compass from her because I need to re-do another plate.

Warning: Crappy translations.

Mom: Ang mahal pala nitong compass na rot ring. (This rot tring compass is expensive.)
Me: Ang basa po dyan, rotring. Bilisan mo yung basa, ma. At alam ko 200 lang yan ah. 180 nga lang dun sa may Edsa Central yan eh. (It's read as rotring. Read it quickly. ma. And as far as I know, it costs 200 bucks. It even costs 180 at Edsa Central.)
Mom: Ano?? E etong pinakamahal pala yung binigay nung babae saken eh! 650 pesos! Sa Ever Ortigas ko pa to binili, dahil halos lahat ng national dito sa atin eh wala na nyan. Pamasko mo na yan. (What?? The lady gave me the most expensive after all! 650 pesos! I bought this at Ever Ortigas, because almost all the branches of National Bookstore in our area is out of that compass. That's your Christmas gift.)
Me: WHAT THE...?

I can't believe my mom just bought me this high-end compass right before the last meeting of our graphics class. What the fuck will I do with this after this term? Well, yeah, this would be really useful next term, provided that I fail my graphics class this term, which is something I don't want to do because I don't wanna spend another three months tugging that big graphing kit around Manila.

I think I'll just lease my graphing kit to people who'll be taking up GRAPONE next term. Like, 2000 a term or something. Hey, that compass costs a damn lot.

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Speaking of that graphing kit, I was on a jeepney ride last week with that big shit (let's all thank Chino again for agreeing to keep my drawing tube for a week). My mom, as always, was asleep when I was trying to call her phone. We agreed the week before that she will fetch me during Tuesdays only once my FILDLAR classes start dissolving and shit. And being the lethargic mom that she is, she forgot that she has a daughter who thought that she'll be fetched by her mother.

I dropped off the Shaw Boulevard station as always, and went out of Edsa Central. After trying to call my mom five times, I gave up and decided to swallow my pride as I walked my way to the jeepney terminal. God, I can't believe how I managed to squeeze myself, my bag, and my graphing kit inside the jeepney. But yeah, it's all good.

As the jeepney waited for the green signal, this kid suddenly crept inside and stood in the middle, with his grip on the railings. He placed small envelopes on the knees of the passengers and mumbled something about his five siblings and having nothing to eat for the night. I looked around and much to my surprise, nobody was listening. It's as if he was this ghost that nobody can't see, except for me. Kinda like Jeniffer Love Hewitt on Ghost Whisperer, minus the sexy body and sexy voice.

I was the only one looking at him, and I was wondering why the fuck he won't give me a small envelope because I wanted to give him fifty pesos, the only change that I have in my wallet. As he looked around, he avoided my eyes and grabbed the small envelopes he placed before. He quickly went out, afterwards. And again, nobody even moved an inch.

Weird. Just weird.

On my way to the tricycle terminal, I was pondering on what I just saw in the jeepney. I don't know. Maybe people had already been desensitized by the bitterness of the truth that lies in the society today; people are impoverished, and they are worsening their state by atrocious acts we are all aware of. I mean, maybe I was the only one thinking that maybe, just maybe, those kids are really in dire need of something to eat for the night.

He was asking for help in a peaceful way.

And I could've helped him, had I been just really eloquent.

My Recipe for Pain

There are generally two types of sadness that exist in this modern world. The first type is when all things suddenly crash into places and you don't know what to do next. More or less, you just shut up and don't let people know anything about it until you're fed up and...yeah, depression at its finest. The second type can be accurately explained by its epitome, the emotive (Emo) culture and its respective poseurs. I need not to explain how this sadness goes, because as far as I know we've all been bothered by these people who are extremely blatant about their feelings by giving us the halloween atmosphere all year round.

But I'm not here to rant about how irritating they are. (I can make a separate hate blog for that, for Christ's sake. I'm just not in the mood to get really angry to these people and attract fights with mobs of emo kids worldwide. Maybe next time.)

For the second time in two months, I'm experiencing the first type of sadness again. If you can remember(which I'm assuming that you can't), the first depression's all about my current school depressing the shit out of me. Every single second was (and still) tormenting, even if I'm with my college friends. I'm still feeling that I don't belong there, which is paradoxical since I was able to spend four puberty-filled years in a high school that gives the same unwelcoming ambiance.

But this time, I'm pretty sure that my sadness is more serious by a higher degree. Or two.

1. My dad is on the verge of losing his job. As you all know, my dad works in a bank somewhere in Europe. With the financial crunch and economic meltdown all over the world, my father's employer is highly susceptible of cutting down jobs and I'm fearing that he would be one of the thousands of people who will be unemployed by next year. When this happens, I will not be able to finish my college degree and my siblings would have to stop schooling for us to suffice our basic necessities. It may all seem to be really exaggerated for you, but the truth is, that's not the worst thing that could happen.

2. I failed all my quizzes in my drawing class. I'm afraid that I'm finally getting that hit in the ass that I thought I'll be getting last term because of algebra. But yeah, it's definitely gonna happen now because I'm sure as hell that I'm gonna fail my graphics class. And you know what's the worse part? My professor thinks that I'm cheating on all my plates because the scores on my plates are much much higher than my quiz scores. I don't know how THAT happened, but I'm fucking sure that I'm no cheater and I shed every last drop of energy I have for all those plates.

3. I'm losing all of my friends because I'm always problematic. I'm not the same old Oyen or Lorainne who's so freaking jolly and eccentric. I just can't stop being so poignant about how my life is getting more and more tragic each day, and needless to say, I'm starting to drive people out of my life.

Earlier this day, I had this unmeasurable excitement over the fact that my best friend and I will be swimming at the village clubhouse and spending the night together playing her new Guitar Hero. I bought snacks at Hypermarket with my mom, and even resisted the urge to finish my pending plates because she wanted to see how shitty my drawing can get. I thought I can finally release all my troubles away, because I'll be able to be with the person who has always been there for me, unlike those others who are acting like friggin asymptotes all of a sudden.

And abruptly, it's all not happening. It's like everything I expected turned into a clear illusion of how I wanted my weekend to go.

Maybe I really do deserve all of this; the pain, the suffering, the sadness...all of it. I just hope that someone can help me get through all of this.

And I prefer someone I don't know, please.

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Out of the sea of people I could really really really miss right now, there is only one friend that stands out.

Patti, thank you for your text message. :) People like you makes me realize that there is more to life than moping around.

But I'm just really down right now.

Wasting Chances

I was deciding a while ago if I would start a mini commotion between this one person of the past and me. It's starting to hit me that my life is getting more boring each day, and I have to do something fun so as to avoid those dark suicidal times that I don't want to have again. And by something fun, what I mean is getting my ass into trouble, and my heart into vengeance.

This is practically easy, since picking up a fight is one of my known fortes. I can just IM some fugly person off my messenger list, and act like an asswipe by taunting him/her with harsh words.If people would take my words seriously, then there's little doubt that chance would grant me that catfight I so want to have right now. But it just so happens that I've already reached the end of puberty, which technically means that I have to stop my juvenile stints because I would look really immature to the eyes of everybody. And people thinking that I'm still a darn kid is the last thing I want to know.

So, I slashed off Easy Option number 1.

My brain diverted again to my initial plan of reviving the past and finally saying some good ol' words to this certain person my life used to depend on. I wanted to say how much I miss this person, and that I am still very much infatuated with this fuzzy feeling I am yet having again. And it's not friggin diarrhea again, mind you. God, you have no idea how many times I've contributed my own dump a few weeks ago because of my sick stomach to the school's sewage system. And if by any chance you happen to be that girl who was brushing her teeth while I was releasing bad stuff, I hope your teeth's still there.

It's a sad, sad thing that I just simply have to have a stormy commotion for my own entertainment. I don't even get it why I have to be evil in that way.

And for the nth time, I don't need love. Like, what the fuck.

---------------------

Calculus is starting to be such a pain in the ass, neck, and brain (GAH especially my brain. I can't take any long hand solutions any more). It used to be so darn easy for me to understand, even if I kept on failing quizzes. Well, what can I even expect from a subject with 4 units? Stuffed toys? Yeah WE ALL WISH that it would just be about stuffed toys. But differential calculus just really had to be about functions and crap.

You know, this is one of those things that I'm scared of encountering during college. Not really calculus per se because calculus can be a bit easy if you try to listen to the teacher and pretend to understand everything and grab that thick calculus book and just read everything (well in our case, that is). Word problems. I'm scared of level 100 - calculus word problems. I'll give you a sample from this quiz about maxima and minima (google it if it's all alien to you) we had a while ago.

A movie screen on a wall is 20 feet high and 10 feet above the floor. At what distance x from the front of the room should you position yourself so that the viewing angle (theta) of the movie screen is as large as possible?

I knew how to solve it. But being such a scaredy cat and refusing to jot down ideas that popped out of my head to help me solve it in a quick and effortless way just lead me to nowhere. I passed my booklet with that page left no answer. Just sketches and sketches of triangles. Cool.

A while ago before typing this sentence, I googled maxima and minima and as it sourly turns out, all of the problems in the quiz are in just one website. Oh good. Our professor just copied them out from a tutorial website that I could have accessed days ago had I just googled maxima and minima. Great.

And just to make things official, I am gonna fail calculus. All because I ignored Google. Google, you're a god. Googlism shall be my religion.

That is, if your database-searching sexiness will help me pass calculus.

Post Anniversary

I'm repressed, unpredictable, and imbecile.

But underneath it all, I'm just plain happy. And it's because of you and this one guy I shall never bring up again.

Thanks for the four years, and may we have another century to rant about together.

I'll still blog in hell while I'm burning for my sins, you know.

For what it's worth, I express my deep gratitude to Blogger and to everyone who's letting extreme boredom into their systems and consequently reading my online journal. My blog might not be as expensive as those other blogs you have encountered, but it's still good. Good as my ass.

Here's to you, Introversion.

The OLD layout of this blog

I accidentally opened Opera yesterday and my old blog just appeared right there and then. Sucky layout. Sucky edits. Sucky pictures. Sucky grammar. Sucky owner. Sucky everything.

And what do you know? Being sucky rules, after all. Just don't overdo it or people will start hitting you or something.

I only have me...yeah, sure. Still the same banana. The only difference now is that I only have myself, not me. It's more than just the grammar bullshit. It's about...

Me.

(Oh crap. Sorry for the weird post. It's almost half-past one in the morning and I'm still wide awake. I have a calculus class scheduled 8 hours from now and I'm still wide awake. I've finished ALL the plates that I need to submit for graphics class and I'm still wide awake. What the friggin hell is up with my brain? Yeah, God really knows the answer to this unrelenting question, but that Holy Guy just wouldn't give me answers. I guess I'm just gonna fuck myself up again.)

(And who the hell even celebrates a blog anniversary? And even a month late, at that.)

Forgive My Turbulence

I find it funny and weird that amidst the superlative number of really really REALLY cute guys that tickles my fancy, I'd still go back to my obsession over this one boy that I still love. It's like those cute boys are just merely fascinating walking paintings that I can't help gushing on like a foolish fan girl in a boy band concert, nothing more and nothing less. But this boy that I truly hunger for with all my heart? No one can ever match up to that. Well, not that it matters or anything.

This certain blockmate amazes me, really. Everytime I'm with him, he would point to me a girl he finds absolutely hot and pretty, and would make this futile yet funny effort to deliver a "cute guy" stance for that girl to see. At first, I was pretty much startled because I didn't know that boys like hot girls a lot. See, I didn't get to experience a lot of fun puberty moments with boys because I went to a high school with people who wear panties under checkered skirts, so this all was just a new thing for me. In the long run, I got so used to their checking out activities that it would now surprise me if they won't acknowledge some girl's hotness right in front of me.

But behind it all, he's wallowing in sorrow because of this one girl he truly loves. As it is slowly turning out, he's been making this unmatched effort to make the girl reciprocate his deep affection for her since their high school days. It's been that long. And for reasons unknown, they cannot reach that serious relationship point. I won't feel really sad about it if what he is feeling is just mere infatuation. But almost five years of dire devotion to somebody (who isn't GOD) is really something else deeper. That's why I'm pretty much impressed at his vigor.

I'm not being all pre-valentina here by elucidating feelings and whatnot. It's just that sometimes, the best way to get over something is to simply let it out loud. People are tired of hearing me profess my love to this one person, because everybody knows that it's already over, and what I'm feeling is just a ball of shrapnels of that infatuation bomb that exploded almost a year ago already. But I still beg to disagree. There are so many cute boys in school, yet he's still my favorite viand.

Because at the end of the day, you will still return to that one person you love, even if God showers you with a truckload of beautiful people. Sure, they're good to the eyes and to some private parts at times. But that person you care for so much? He/She's good for everything, at the very least.

----------------------

Yeah. Finally. A friggin sign.

Yesterday while I was getting off the FX taxi at SM North, my knees weakened and my arms suddenly became numb. I thought that this abrupt physical torture was just all because of the fact that I skipped breakfast because I woke up late again for fucking community service. Mom offered to drive through McDonald's for some quick breakfast, but I declined after seeing that it's already 7:00AM and I'm still in Pasig City. So yeah, after my knees and arms, my stomach suddenly stabbed me with this tormenting pain. I hastily changed my clothes and hurried off to Taco Bell to grab lunch before meeting up with people I'm supposed to watch Madagascar 2 with. I thought that maybe half of the Crunchwrap would easily sweep off the pain, but NO. I didn't finish my food for I was too agonized, and I limped my way to the cinema.

I didn't really get to enjoy the film because of my stomach bitching around. I swore that if this won't stop till Monday, I'll dig it up on my own and throw it to our noisy neighbor. Enjoy my rotten stomach, you boisterous son of a bitch.

Later that night, I thought of reasons as to why my stomach is aching like hell. Skipping breakfast? No. Asthma? Obviously, no. Food poisoning? I've eaten so many junk in my life that my body's already immune to toxics.

Coke?

OH YES.

I've been drinking Coke every single day of the previous week and the previous week of that week and the previous week of that week and the previous week of that week and the previous...

To cut the shit short, I've been drinking non-stop for quite a month now.

I remember last last Thursday when I went to Charlene's party with my stomach grumbling because I haven't eaten anything. The first thing I grabbed was a bottle of beer, and expectedly, I gulped it all down. My stomach punched me to death. (And no, this one's not really connected to anything I've said about the Coke thing.)

I've been waiting for a sign to check myself in at Coke rehab(not that it exists or anything.) for the longest time, and now that I have to restrain my throat from this soda, I'm gonna discipline my ass.

Wish me luck.

--------------------

Realizations

I can't believe my own body is doing this all to me. SRSLY. I haven't had any normal sleep for the past few weeks and I can't blame anyone nor anything except my body, which have been acting kinda weird ever since I started sniffing friggin steroids again. It's been three years since I stopped inflating my body with anti-asthma steroids and from then on, I've been living like a martyr. And since martyrdom is something I do not, in any way, want to practice, I threw my useless inhaler away and snatched my brother's purple diskus to finally give my dying lungs a break.

Aside from my shoulders getting abnormally huge and the unrelenting lethargy, the steroids have been giving out so much benefits that I used to only wish of. Like my lungs drifting off to heaven, or the cool stance I wasn't able to show for three years because of my inhaler. Damn that inhaler.

So, yeah. I went to school half-asleep today. My eyes were so heavy that I slept for quite a moment while I was on the escalator connecting the platform of the train to the second floor of the station. I was drifting off in little naps while waiting for our professor, and I also dozed off in the train on my way home. I just don't get all of this sleepy bullshit. I can easily fall asleep when I'm on the move, and I can't sleep when I'm already lying on my bed. How weird is that?

Conclusively, I just wish that Sandman would just get his act together and quit fooling around. It's not summer time, for Christ's sake. I have two plates and a calculus quiz to get through, and surely enough, I can't manage to just fall asleep whenever and wherever I want to.

---------------

I realized so many things after attending my friend's party last Thursday. One of which is that I don't need to transfer to UP because my friends from other colleges/universities in the party are also having the same manic depression this college thing is giving us all. Weeks ago, I was really sure that I'm gonna dump my current school over another school because it's making me
regret about my choices and stuff. I already reached that point where I was finding various papers that I need in order to leave La Salle and go for UP already.

And then, my high school friends shared the same sentiments about their respective college lives. Suddenly, I wasn't alone anymore.

It all just hit me like a big rock; you can't always have what you want, and leave something that's already good in return. Besides all of it being so stupid, it's just telling all of ye that I'm as immature as those people I'm criticizing because of their callowness. I don't really want to end up as a hypocrite here.

I'm not moving. And even if it takes me a millenium to be contented to where I'm in already, I'll go through it all. Except of course when my dad suddenly runs out of moolah and we're dead meat. When that time comes, y'all should expect me in the streets of Taft Avenue, snatching off your belongings.

HA.

Enough of this drama. I have to study for my calculus quiz.

Random

This has got to be the most random day ever - aside from my own birthday and someone's birthday that I clearly do not know, of course. As usual, I woke up extra-late for community service because I spent the previous night making friggin flash cards and arithmetic equations for those kids that I have to share my knowledge to. I would always wake up at 6:30AM, and the call time is 7:30. I don't really have a clue on how I managed to get to the parking lot of Harrison Plaza in an hour's time, given that my house is ridiculously far from Vito Cruz. And there's no way I just suddenly flew or something.

Well, probably God's amazing grace again.

So, as usual, I took a nap in the jeepney for good fifteen minutes because four hours of sleep is already considered inhuman in these days that I'm not really supposed to be stressful and stuff. Yeah, I taught the kids again, blah blah blah. I dozed off again on the way back to Vito Cruz, and quickly retrieved my drawing papers from Chino and climbed up the deadly stairs of the LRT. The prickling heat of the sun is practically melting my whole fatness right in front of the security guard's eyes, and my smell is drenching the whole atmosphere of the train. I wish I'm exaggerating, but I saw some lady's nose wrinkle when I reached for the safety handrail. I get it - I stink.

Carrying my stench in my underarms, I got off at Shaw Blvd. and walked my way from the train station to Megamall under the light rain. I tripped over a big rock and everyone witnessed it. And did I mention that the big rock happened to be on the sidewalk of EDSA? Well, yeah. Even those who are walking in front of me turned back because of the monstrosity they felt. It's as if the earth shook, and they all thought it was a friggin earthquake or something. To all ye people, it was just me.

I instantly bought a snack in one of those stalls in front of the supermarket to ease my hunger that caused my great fall. For some weird reason, my other taste buds seem to be on a vacation and the sour buds are the only ones that are ready for some real munching. Since even my yakisoba that's supposed to taste sweet tasted like sour grapes, I threw it even if there's still half of the meal remaining. Every single snack I bought after spoiled my appetite, so I just went to the FX terminal to go home already since I just can't use up all my money to try and find something that wouldn't taste so sour. I opened the back door and squeezed myself to the far corner of the left seat. The FX was still lacking two passengers, so it idled for a few more minutes. An old man occupied the seat beside me, and a seemingly gay person opened the door to occupy the seat in the middle.

Strange. That gay person reminds me of my fourth grade teacher back in my co-ed elementary school.

He turned his face to the left to give his fare to the the driver. and BAM. Fourth grade teacher.

It was rather the longest FX ride of my life. A part of me wants to greet him and tell him how much he made myself a better person by making me play the star actress role in those plays we used to have back in those fourth grade days. Yet there's still also this other part that wants me to just ignore his knowing stares and stop looking at his direction. I'm just scared that he might blab about my ridiculous weight gain over the 6 years in front of all the other passengers, which will, of course, be just plain humiliating.

I can already hear the hurting words.

Gay Teacher: Lorainne? Grabe naman tinaba mo!
Me: OH SORRY.

It could've been really fun if he could've just ignored my evident fatness and just sit back and listen to what I have done since he last smeared his rainbow to my face.

Gay Teacher: Lorainne? Ano na nangyare sa'yo?
Me: Well, I...

To cut the shit short, I've done a LOT. So let's just leave it there to avoid further swaggering.

SIlver Chicken

The number of times that I stood up for my thoughts by submitting an essay is abnormally inferior to those of the number of times that I actually chickened out of chances to do so. I'm having this weird theory that I really do have chickens for real parents, which is actually much better compared to real parents(specifically MY parents) because they just lay eggs and be cute and star in various versions of Babe and Charlotte's Web. They don't shout at each other while their chicks gawk at them, absorbing the weirdness of it all in. Yeah well, I'm pretty much aware that having chickens to rule the household is too good AND stupid to be true.

God, how the hell did I just elucidate chickens?

ANYWAYS.

I was supposed to submit this superficial article I made after seeing my professor sing like there's no tomorrow. That article is in no way connected to the concert we were required to watch, and I just grabbed a pen and paper and started writing shit. The music, together with the choir's melancholic voice, seemingly entered my system so easily and inspired the mediocre out of me to jot down thoughts that I hid somewhere in my foot a long time ago. Those were thoughts that I know no one would ever care to listen to if I blurt them out, let alone be read if I write them. I'm obviously just being so friggin' emotive, sure, but I just have to let this out so I can lessen the burden my own life is putting on my shoulders.

So yeah, I was supposed to submit it to Youngblood (PDI). I was so determined to do so, that I even heeded advices from those few selected people I sent a copy of this essay. I'm not bragging or anything, but they all thought it was great, and that I really should let the whole newspaper-reading nation read this.

But at the last second, I deleted the draft I was supposed to send to YB and just shrugged all of it off. I mean, forget it. The Philippine's leading newspaper has no room for my second-ratedness and I am not deserving of the glory that having your article printed on paper that is distributed to the whole nation offers.

I am just simply not enough.

You know, maybe that's the reason why I keep chickening out of these gargantuan and stupendous chances God (who is obviously not witnessing what I have been doing) is continuing to give me. I've always thought that I am not enough for everything - kinda ironic for somebody so fucking big.

So, I'll just post the article here. In my trashbag.

-------------------------------

Silver Lining

I’m betting my month’s allowance on the fact that most of the kids my age don’t really have that unfortunate lapse similar to that of the Great Depression of late 1920 will surely occur if this will stay constant for along duration of time. They don’t know that despite the reality that oil prices are gradually climbing down at $80 a barrel, people wouldn’t really be able to uplift their respective financial exigencies because with a bunch of banks breaking their silences by filing bankruptcies, people are losing their money. They don’t know that in spite of news reports and interviews from the president saying that the country is in good shape to handle the current economic crisis and hence far from recession, people will still lose their jobs, as firms and businesses close down because of minuscule demands.

They don’t know that despite of the happy faces and laughter I share with all of them, my heart is wallowing inside. My dad could lose his own job any time now, and I’m apparently just waiting for my mom to break out in tears and tell the sad news for me. That scene would be such an award-winning stance for a prime time soap opera. It just sucks that it had to be based on the most tragic part of my life – next to my own death, of course.

My dad works in a bank somewhere in Europe as an IT Consultant. Ever since he started there five years ago, he was only able to go back here for three times. One was that Christmas of 2004, then the Christmas of 2006 when we went to Disneyland, and a random week in January of 2007. They are all so amazingly distinct that I can remember them so vividly in my mind. But generally, the cycle goes like this: we fetch him at the airport, he and mom would battle each other in a shouting contest, and my siblings and I would try our best to swallow down big lumps in our throats as my dad gets on the airport taxi to fly back to Europe – all of that in a span of four days.

The mere sight of my dad just leaving us without saying a fatherly goodbye is probably the most disheartening scene I could pay billions to not ever witness again. I can still myself and my siblings slumping in our sofa, looking at each other, and before we know it, tears are rolling down our swollen faces. Did our own father really appear in front of our eyes? Or did he just drop by in Manila to pick up his soaps? I never really knew the answer because ever since the last time he went here, he instantly lost all of his time and money to go back again. I wanted to shrug off the fact that he missed my high school graduation. But matters like this prove to be really hard to forget.

Psh. I know any OFW kid feels the same anyway.

I could think of a thousand reasons why my dad couldn’t lose his job right now; the family is still heavily dependent on the money he’s earning, I’m still in my freshman year in college, our savings aren’t enough to suffice the fallout - just to name a few. But there’s only one unrelenting reason why he should: he’s staring to think that he’s just our trade partner or something.

He’s still our father, and he needs to come back home..

Well, what do you know? There’s a feasible silver lining in this economic breakdown after all.

BDTGD* Sentiments

*Bad-Day-Turned-Good-Day

-------------------------------------------
There are awfully far more bad days God have created for me than, of course, those good days I wish I can always have. But then there are also those days that are half-bad and half-good, and you and I know that this isn't one of those days Ye Great Lord have made.

Hence, today.

I knew from the moment I woke up (and thank my melatonin shortage for even managing to do so) this morning that this day will suck ass. I have this inexplicable gift of sensing how my day will go by by just staring at those circle designs on my room's curtains. If those circular things seem to be...well, just damn circular and nothing else, my day will go well. Otherwise, if those circles irritate the shit out of me and just make me want to rip them all off right there and then, then of course the day will surely not go well. Man, those curtains are my life. One time. when I came home and found my windows covered in new curtains, I screamed my frustrations out in my bathroom before talking to the maid about the curtain thing. I could've strangled the poor lady if it weren't for um...the bathroom.

Yeah well anyways, as my eye lids smashed open to the music of The Ting Tings' Shut Up and Let Me Go (my sister would always open the radio as she gets up every morning), my eyeballs quickly averted to the curtain. And yeah, I was so pissed off at those round things that I even tossed this special pillow to their direction. In fact, everything totally pissed me off - the door, the table, the papers, the computer...even my own bag, for Christ's sake. Random stuff about those things made me really furious by the time I got in the car - the door being wooden, the table being so friggin brown, the papers being so light. Call me insane, or crazy, or down right autistic, I won't really care. This happens when I'm ineffably depressed about so many things, and I have yet to find the cure for this lunatism.

Now I don't really know how the hell my perfunctory curtain gift flipped. I mean, I don't get it, really. I got in the 6AM train really early, so I should be grateful. I was able to answer my ANAGEOM quiz even with the lilliputian studying I did the night before, so I should be grateful. I was able to absorb everything my professor laid out on the board in my calculus class, so I should be grateful. My mind was unbelievably in the mood for research class (which is strangely a hard thing to acquire these days), so I really should be grateful.

But it wasn't until I found out that Ayu and I are in the same elevator that I realized that I really should be thankful, after all.

And you know what I think?

I think I'm depressed because I need to see my high school friends as soon as possible - right before I decide to transfer to another school because my current school is depressing the shit out of me. I need to catch up on that fruitful life I once had, and I know that seeing those people who made me feel a lot better about everything with booze and laughter will smoothen out this rocky road. I have yet to meet somebody who can surpass my high school friends' ability to emphatize really good.

And I know that somebody is definitely NOT in my current school. Yeah well I know where the hell HE is.

Boy, do I know a lot, or what?

After our classes, Alyssa and I went to Tea Blends to have ourselves some good 'ol Nai Cha to wash down stupid worries about life in general. As we walked out of Archer's Lair, we saw Raia and Lexi and yeah, they all made me miss that certain fun I used to have in my life. I'm fully aware that I'm being ostentatiously emotive about all of this, but where can I put all of my sentiments, right? My friends are all busy in their respective semestral breaks and I'm pretty sure that they'd rather sleep than hear me mope like a dying dolphin.

To God, please transfer me to a new school already. I promise I'll...I'll...oh forget it. I'm no good at making promises anyway.


---------------------------------

Oh. And Happy Birthday to Lawrence and Delamar. Random.

Inconsolable Fixation

I am partly enjoying the fact that the Internet connection is unusually slow, and I cannot just go to a website without my eyes rolling as those little green bars progress like small turtles on a sunny beach. For one, I can't focus on my FILDLAR essay if I know that the Internet speed's a breeze and there's just a ton of sites I want to view and all. Well, it's a good thing that God is finally cooperating on his fullest by removing the block (writer's block) out of my empty head and replacing it with ideas, ideas, and frigging more ideas. I swear words are just flowing out of my hypothalamus, and I wish I have a metal pan nearby so I can smash my head so as to stop blurting out gobbledygook things. On a bad note, it's just too bad that we have this one-page limit in FILDLAR essays. I mean, where the hell am I to write these excess inklings which I doubt I'll get another dose of in a week or two?

Damn it.

Anyways, this is just the most regretful day ever. See, we were supposed to go to Enchanted Kingdom in the afternoon. And BAM! It rained so hard, I almost cried. I dreamt of scary roller coasters and other rides the day before, so you can just imagine my frustration when big drops of rain smashed on the car's roof and window panes, hitting my head like big bullets fired by no less than the US Army or something. Since rain means pain, we were not able to go to the theme park and instead just resorted to Mall of Asia which truly, truly and truly sucked like hell...except with the part where we ate at Kitaro and Krispy Kreme. Eating is always fun, and my body can attest to that without saying anything.

So to sum it all up, doughnuts and japanese food makes everything less regretful. Oh, and friends too. And candies. And Krispy Kreme paper hats. And balloons.

And...you.

--------------------------

I was going through drafts hidden beneath hundreds of posts here in my blog and I suddenly came across this shit I made for my birthday:

I slept early last night to have the whole birthday thing going. And yeah, I just woke up.

Again, I was about to pick my nose when suddenly, it hit me that it was finally MY day. I don't really know why my own birthday is hitting me for the third time this week. It's like I don't deserve to celebrate my own birthday because I keep forgetting it, or I'm just too arrogant that even my own birthday refuses to be a good one for the last 4 years that I've been having it. Oh Lordy.

After realizing the aforementioned, I quickly grabbed my phone to see if anybody remembered my special day. Being the infrequent texter that I truly am, I was surprised to see 8 messages and 2 emails. My God, I have friends? I mean, not that I'm complaining or anything, but boy, I sure have an emotive and valid excuse for quitting my suicidal ego. Can you believe it? People actually greeted me. People I'm not related with, and people who I rarely talk with. That is so overwhelming. If I have a metaphoric heart, it could've busted right now with happiness. So yeah. To everybody who remembered, I'm thanking you all from the bottom of my metaphoric heart. It's just too bad I don't have one.

And it finally occurred to me that I am not seriously enjoying my life right now the same way I used to enjoy it last summer and high school and whatever. Yeah, I get it...things DO change, and I for one just cannot dictate these things to change and still make me happy. But it's just so weird that all these changes have to give you this heavy feeling that you made the wrong decision, ergo, you deserve to be unhappy and lonely and miserable all throughout your life - unless someone by the name of TOOT suddenly comes up to you and profess his undying fetish for your humongous thighs AND by then, just by then, life would truly be worth living.

But that is just not happening. Apparently not now, or sooner or some time in the future because I haven't come across a person who's hungry for some big ol' legs of some big ol' lady with big ol' issues. Not one person does - let alone a dog. Not that I'm hoping or anything. (No, seriously..I'm not hoping for some dog to love my legs.)

I've been thinking about this since that hell-driven Monday when my blockmate proved to me that every one's an ass, and they will give a shit about your figure until they run out of shits to spare. I. Am. Not. Happy. In. My. Current. School. I hate to break this to all of my non-existent readers but it's not something superficial again. It's more of what I'm feeling inside when I'm actually IN school. Don't get me wrong with my group of friends, though. Krissy, Princess, Chino, and Giecel are always fun to share jokes and anecdotes with...sure, but school's lacking something. Probably a driving force to make me go there? I don't know.

Or maybe yes. Driving force...where art thou?

School used to be such a thrill back in high school. I never skipped a day because each day is like this certain piece of chocolate from Belgium only a few people can get hold of. It's so enthralling, that resisting it would be extremely excruciating. Yeah, I know I'm being stupid. Everybody knows that college is not at par with high school in all aspects, so I really have no right to compare my high school days with what I'm experiencing now.

If this is all part of God's will, then why the hell am I so desolated and dispirited? I know there's no guaranteed that what God wants you to do will make you so frigging happy, but why am I feeling so miserable right smack in the middle of what everybody would call paradise (yeah, well more like educational paradise. No pun here. No. No. No.)?

Maybe I need to make a decision to end this melancholy extravaganza. I do not deserve to be unhappy because...

a. I tutor impoverished kids during Saturdays. Don't shove that well-hey-isn't-that-one-of-your-subjects-or-something issue again. I believe that what I'm doing is more than a requirement. It's like a mission...or something like that. No, SRSLY.

b. I hear mass every Sunday, for the love of God. I try to sleep early every Saturday evening so as to not fall asleep during mass. That is such an effort worth clapping for.

c. The only vices I have now are Coke and liquor. I smoke occasionally or almost never, because I'm getting tired of suffering for the consequences of it all. And besides, coughing irritates everyone, so I better just stick with my drinking habits and lay off the death stick if I want myself to be appreciated.

d. Writing hate blogs here doesn't make me a bad person. See, I don't write bad things about people if they didn't do something stupid to me. Just like what I've said before, I am not fond of confronting people in their faces because I don't want them to feel stupid and ugly, like what they're all doing to me. So it's just probably more efficient if I'd just reprimand you here with your anonymity assured.


I think I need to move to another school. Ironically, the school I thought will be my home for the next five years is pushing me away.


And I wish I can push back and let it know that I can still bear the loneliness it's letting me feel.


Wish.

Deceiving Misfortunes

So as usual, my mom was behind the wheel and I was at the passenger seat. Random songs blared out of the car's stereo as I hummed to the beat and murmured to the lyrics of each melody. And then the cancer song suddenly boomed its way - again. I've been hearing the cancer song so frequently in the past few weeks that the uplifting lyrics are starting to creep through my giant spine. And being a Yo' Mah Niggah Dis Da Ril Shiznit advocate, inspirational lyrics are the last thing I can truly appreciate. Probably because I've been desensitized for my own good, and I have yet to find out where my heart is.

Oh alright. It sort of moved me in a not-so superficial way, you know? It even made me wonder why our own local talents can't even do the same thing; formulate a Filipino song for those who are in dire suffering from their own respective sicknesses. Like for Diabetes, or Tuberculosis, which are the two leading causes of death in the country. That would be really cool and funny. I can just imagine the lyrics in my head right now...'Quit feeding on sugar"..."Your cough is keeping the world awake". God, I should be the one composing the damn songs after all.

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I think I just had my worst Monday and Tuesday in the history of my life, and I'm starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, karma really does exist and she's this fat bitch who snaps up to everybody who blocks her way and other stuff. Now don't get me wrong about writing this hate blog about a certain blockmate who, like the first one I described in an entry I made six typhoons ago, made the biggest mistake of his life (or so it very much seemed to me) by crossing the line and disrespecting me. I hate to break this to all of those people who's planning to deteriorate me like hell with my unpleasant figure because they think I'm cool with everything, but I do have a heart, and a very sensitive one at that. So good luck in finding a fatass who doesn't get hurt with unrelenting fat jokes.

I don't have enough incongruity to narrate what exactly happened last Monday that made me burst in flames. That immature and insensitive blockmate who humiliated me in front of the block with the sickening fat jokes had already apologized and defended himself come Monday night. Yeah, he apologized, sure...but I don't think I can ever forgive somebody who didn't just angered me, but also hurted me in an emotional sense. And to think that I thought he would be a friend among the judgmental crowd of asses, because we got really along during first term. Yeah, he would pop out occassional fat jokes when we used to be seatmates during our ENGLCOM class, but it all was more of teasing than disrespecting, unlike the first blockmate I made a hate blog about.

Well, little DID I know that he was absolutely the same.

Talk about decieving people. I'm finding it ironic that my group of friends in the block would always sit in some corner during our three-hour breaks just to find deceiving students lurking around the university. It's surprising to know that we need not to search for those anymore, because we already have one in the block. That's good to know - I think.

Seriously, I think God could've done a better job as our creator and all by giving us all sensitivity sensors in our asses or something so one would get a good view of a person's feelings right before he would do something so stupid and juvenile. With that, humanity could've been spared with the acerbic feeling of being deeply hurted or something.

ANYWAYS.

Yesterday proved to be more unfortunate than the former. I arrived at home at half-past eight in the evening already, and the only thing I've eaten for the whole day is a pack of biscuits my blockmate gave me.

Because my mother is too busy shaping her ass off at the gym, I get to wait for a decent cab for thirty minutes at Edsa Central, walk to Megamall, and catch a damn cold. I was charged fifty pesos for the FX ride because of the fucking graphing kit, and another fifty pesos for the tricycle.

But the fact that I did it all with an empty stomach? Definitely priceless.

Life is good.

Well, We Lost

And by We, I mean the whole Lasallian community. You can look at it on either side of the story: we lost because we're just unlucky, or we lost because being a Catholic university that we truly are, we paved Ateneo's way to championship because we've been winning a lot of times already, and we can all definitely agree that it's about friggin time that they win something. Nah, I'm not gonna expound on either theories, because that'll just attract fanboys and fangirls from both teams. I wish you can all see this prodigious effort I'm doing to conceal my unrelenting vexation towards this...this thing that's merely putting a heavy burden on my back.

Breathe in....

IcantbelievewelostohfriggingodI'vebeensupportingthegreenarchers
sincesixthgradeandnowthatIaminthesameschoolwheretheyareitjust
saddensmyassthattheyhavetoloseonmydebutyearincollegeohoh
thoseelitepeopleinthebluesideareprobablyrejoicingtheirwininsome
clubwhileweareallherestuckinanacrimonywehaveyettoescape

And, breathe out.

Do you know what's the silver lining amidst this unfortunate event?

Our players are still the hottest creatures alive. Oh, and not just hot...they're also smart. I mean, that''s the key for one's success in life, right? Being hot and smart. God, I so knew they were your descendants. I won't mind buying a bunch of Atkins standees and have them all in my room and praying at it all for five or a hundred times a day. But of course I won't forget God. He's still the standee of all standees, althought I have yet to see for myself a version of his standee.

Well, whatever.

To the Ateneo Blue Eagles,

Congratulations!

( I swear I can taste my own bitterness right now. And I'm not even a player, for Christ's sake.)

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Okay, so there's this Essay Writing Contest whatever stint again in school, and I don't really know if I should throw in my Argumentation-Persuasion essay I made for my ENGLCOM class last term. But generally, this is the third Essay Writing Contest that God has been shoving into my face since high school, and I do believe that there's no such thing as the third time or try being the charm.

Let me give you a recap of my pusillanimous actions towards contests or chances like this where I have to spill my opining ink all over some blank paper:

1. The Manila Times Essay Writing Contest - I was supposed to write an essay about my ideas on how this fucking country will develop, but as it sourly turned out, I deferred my entry and moped all week instead. I chickened out, because I thought my essay lacked substance and class and other whatever stuff essays need to have at that time.
2. Economics Essay Writing Contest - I can't really remember the topic that I was supposed to elocute in a thousand-word essay, but as far as I can recall, I wasn't able to show up at the event because of my GIFT class and well...my vacuousness.
3. Pauliworld Career - GAH.
   
4. Youngblood Attempts - As of this writing, I have five drafts for this column in the Philippine Daily Inquirer that is but of prestige: two of which are finished, and three are like government projects that did not receive the right budget for their respective implementation. Unfinished. Unfinished. Unfinished. I still continue to make essays for this section though...but I just seem to can't get that push from some authority that would make me finish them all and submit them all to essay writing contests where I can get myself some hefty cash amount, if ever.

See? I have enough reasons as to why I should not join any essay-writing contests anymore. I am mediocre in every sense, and everybody knows that mediocrity is a big crap in the society. That's why I am here, just blogging. It's not an art, nor something cool. It's just blogging.





But you know what? A part of my brain is really pushing me to join.


I am just so fucking weird, I can't even understand my own sentiments.


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Today is my brother's first birthday. Hur...Ay.

Friday Morning

So it occurred to me that I've let a week fly off without me ranting about things. Sad to say that I just ran out of things to deteriorate, thus probably making you all think that the world is slowly becoming a good place to live in. It's just that life has been just seriously good for me for the past few weeks, aside of course from the fact that I'm gradually becoming aware that I'm studying in a campus filled with people who dress themselves with such flamboyance, even if their faces look like shit. I'm not being insecure or anything...oh suck it - they make us all inferior to death.

Anyways, I'll give you a rundown of how the week went by:

Monday - Our respective professors for our differential calculus and solid mensuration classes finally showed up after failing to orient us on our supposed first meeting, which was last Wednesday and Thursday. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. All of my math professors now are members of the opposite sex. Well, so much for girl power. The number of males are dramatically increasing, and the girls are bovinely saying goodbye to their inner girlness. I can prove the latter so easily.

Tuesday - Graphics was...okay, I guess. At least I now have an outlet of my artistic shenanigan that is still unfortunately stuck in my head. I'm hoping that the friggin graphing kit that costs 5000 bucks will stand for its worth and let my creativity and imagination burst out like hell. Our professor for ENGLRES is yet to appear, as we all indulged again in an early dismissal. I bought three books for this term, and they hella cost a LOT. I swear I saw my mother's wallet weeping as she pulled out bills for my books that morning. 

Wednesday - I went to school two hours earlier than my first class to finally lift my butt off to the OUR and get that infamous form for manual dropping of courses. I decided days ago that I don't feel like ballroom dancing this term because of juvenile reasons I have no plans of elucidating, and I could definitely use the 90% refund to cover the expenses of the uber-expensive graphing kit. In that way, my mother's wallet will stop cursing me and striking my guilt every single time I need money. I mean, where the hell am I supposed to get money anyway? Ah, wallets nowadays.

Thursday - While my classmates are dancing their asses off at the sports complex, I submitted the form and claimed my revised EAF from the OUR (college talk, huh?). I hurried off to the accounting office to get my refund, but it sourly turned out that I can only claim it two months after the dropping period. What a shame. What a friggin fucking shitting shame. I apologized to my mother because I just snatched off 5000 bucks without compensating it on the same day. I don't know why, but I just felt kinda sorry for myself because I chose a course that is so expensive and demanding, I can barely keep up. With the whopping tuition and the list of things I have to buy, my parents should just like, let me stay at home or something. I'm a shithole anyway. Oh, and our ENGLRES professor ditched us all again. So some my classmates and I went to Andrew to complain about the non-existence of our professor and with obviously missing out three meetings already, our teacher is wasting our money and time. As it turns out, the teacher has been going to the wrong room for our ENGLRES period. Wrong room. What the hell.

In another story, I am finally experiencing REAL poverty everytime I go to school. Like yesterday, for instance. I went to school with only fifty pesos left in my wallet, and I haven't eaten anything. Yeah, not even breakfast. So you can just imagine my gargantuan thighs wobbling like hell by the time I reached fifth floor. I didn't even have cellphone load, for Christ's sake. I was just thankful that I saw mom and my brothers at the mall after class. If I didn't, I'd probably walk my way to home and be mugged or something.

But still.

A Letter to God

Dear God,

As You can see, Your plan to devastate my second term is starting to turn out as a success. I know this is still a part of Your Karma's A Fat Bitch project that unfortunately backfired last term because of my unusual kindness and nonchalantness. And whatever Your other plans may be, I'll support them all, be it about me getting murdered off the street or failing differential calculus. Ah, everybody just have to love Your will.

So God, here are signs that your plan is definitely working out:

1. I just ran out of melatonin. And unfortunately, I have an eight-thirty class later. Oh, and it's not just a class. It's DANCE for Christ's sake. How the hell am I to friggin DANCE with my eyes and brain swelling and begging me to give my whole system a break? I just want to sleep, really. Please, God? Let me sleep just this one night, and I'll rush to the nearest drugstore tomorrow to get myself boxes of Sleepasil. In that way, Your holiness need not to intervene with my sleeping problems anymore.

2. I've known this since that day our block president gave us our respective EAF's: almost all of our classes are to be held only in one room, which is V510. Let me analyze that for You, God. V is for Velasco Hall, 5 is the floor number, and 10 is the room number. Since there exists no elevators in the Velasco Hall and the fifth floor is actually the topmost floor in the said building, that means crawling through a bunch of steps just to attend my classes. Clearly, this may seem to be a chance you've given to me to cut down chunks of fat. You see, if that was the case, then I would have been expressing my untainted gratitude for your support in long-forgotten dream of mine to be slim for once in my life. But I'm evidently complaining. My lungs will bleed out and I would then have to spit it out like a chewed gum.

3. My mind, like my body clock, is still stuck in those so-called term break days. I just can't seem to motivate myself to be interested, consequently making me very hesitant in waking up and going to school. Aw, shit that. Being a Dean's Lister suck like hell. Sure, you get unlimited cuts and absences and other freebies, but then you have to study harder and make it to the damn list again! It's as if you're not allowed to even step a foot out of the DL circle, and well if you do, you'll not be permitted to get in again. Getting good things can suck sometimes.

See, God? You are such a cool and smart organizer. I'm literally begging you now to plan my life way ahead of me. Please, oh Lordy?

Oops, looks like your heaven-sent melatonin is kicking in...

THANKS,

your introverted daughter that you'd love to throw in hell 

Physics and Love

My physics nerd identity is starting to crawl up again in my spine, creeping through my whole system and forcing me to relate everything with physics, physics, and of course, physics. Well, I kinda forgot for a hefty amount of time that I loved and worshipped physics, and you have to thank lethargy among other things for that. 

I lost physics somewhere in my sleep. And GAH. It's back to destroy my social life - oh sorry, non-existent social life, I mean. It's like time tried to warp me back in my early fourth year high school days but ended up unsuccessful, much to my gratitude. Instead, it just gave me back those old nerdy feelings I had for the world's favorite science. I wish time could just use some thinking for a while, you know? It seems a little bit early for me to be all enthused about gravity bullshits because I will not be getting a dose of Engineering Physics till third term. What a relief, I know. But then again, what the hell am I gonna do with this physics lust?

Oh. I know.

Relate it to...

Love. (*insert your most melodic laugh here*)

Well, if you come to think of it, love and physics are two lines that had always been parallel to each other, and thus never intersected by any chance. It's probably because not all people appreciates the beauty that lies hidden beneath the taunting appeal physics offers, contrary to the way love intoxicates just about everyone. So, here goes nothing.

---------------------------

Love is simply a force. And by definition, force is something that can cause a mass to accelerate. We being the mass, and force being the love...you get the picture. It just gets us all moving in a different way - far more distinct than other natural forces around us. Because it's a vector quantity, wonder no more if you're feeling that you have this great sense of direction all of a sudden. 

Without this force, life is just simply bland. According to Newton's first law of motion, an object will remain in a uniform state of motion, unless of course an external force will be applied to it. Love just gives a whole new meaning to our actions and even our intentions. With love still being the external force, it just makes us go faster, go slower, turn left, or turn right. It's kinda easy to comprehend, really. 

And then there's the third law.

As Newton stated it, 'For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction'. As you love somebody, it reciprocates easily, whether one may like it or not. Most of you might refute this by saying that a lot of budding relationships decline in the end because one is intoxicated, and one isn't. See, that's the thing with love being a force. You have to exert all the love you can give in order to receive the same amount. And in a relationship, it's highly unlikely that person A loves person B more than person B does to person A. I'm no love guru or anything, but as I am associating love with physics, this can be justified by the third law. Just read it again.

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Well, that wasn't so bad. 

It just sounds so...geeky. 

And hooray for the 6000th page view!

Coup de Grâce

So, yeah. The unexpected happened, and for some good reason, I'm not really all too giddy with it.

Long story short:

Yours truly made it to the Dean's List for this term. And I thought I will fail Algebra and mope all week long for my blockmates would be looking down at me like I'm a criminal or something.

Yeah sure, it's good. Getting in the friggin list in the first term of my first year in the University is a perennial sign that despite my futile efforts to slack everything off, I will still come out undefeated in the end, as if I studied my ass off for three merciless months. Don't get me wrong, though. I know I should be happy to be part of the list, but I just think that I don't deserve a slot, obviously because some people studied harder and sadly ended up out of the list. I don't have innate intelligence, mind you. So it all was just too surprising for me to bear.

Anyways, setting my weird grievance towards something one should be thankful for aside, I'm giving my commendations to all of those who made it to the Dean's List for this term. May we all make it yet again for the next semester. Not that I'm being optimistic for you guys or anything.

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Monica and I visited our high school yesterday - again. I know, I know...it's juvenile in every sense. But the hell with juvenile. It was really really hot yesterday afternoon and boredom spanked our friggin asses. We grew tired of looking at people's multiply accounts and snooping at their social lives and consequently looking for pictures of gorgeous members of the opposite sex. I mean, wouldn't you? Well, Monica needs to have her dose of some manly fancy because she's complaining that there aren't any cute guys in UP, but I've already had enough of my fascination for handsome men because...well...I just see a lot of those every single day. Not that I'm complaining, or anything.

But I still prefer the rugged types, if you know what I mean.

We climbed up the slope inside the school, and already saw our former PE teacher. We said hi in the most cheerful way we can, and she just grinned. The hell with that grin. We soon wondered why is everybody looking so gloomy or something. Kinda weird, really.

So off we went to the canteen...yada yada. Turns out that the friggin canteen doesn't allow cash transactions anymore, which is really a bad thing. How in shit's name are we to buy our food? Ah, whatever. We just went to the senior's building to reminisce those good 'ol high school days. To my former batchmates: remember the square paths near the canteen? Well, it's gone now. They replaced it with a covered pathway instead. Screw that.

On our way to the main building, a former busmate recognized us. She was ecstatic as she tried to remember our names. For the record, she got Monica's name right, but my name has yet to be revealed in her world. And mind you, she's already a senior student. It irritated me a bit, of course. Still weirdly ecstatic, she asked our respective universities.
Monica: um, UP.
Girl: WOOOW. Ang galiing!! (turns to me) Ikaw ate?
Me: uh, La Salle.
Girl: ah.

Now THAT really made me burst into flames inside. If my parents didn't raise me in the right way, I could've confronted her right there and then. What is it with these kids and stereotyping? I wasn't like this when I was in high school. If I were, then I could've just applied for UP or Ateneo because those are the only schools people seem to accept nowadays. And I friggin hate it. I don't want to bash other universities but what is it with UP and Ateneo that my school doesn't have? La Sallle had already established its prestige in so many fields...in engineering, most especially...but why is it still being stereotyped as something so mediocre?

I obviously don't have the answers. All I know is it is so easy for one to be able to pass DLSU's entrance test, sure. But it's hard surviving the trimestral system and the fact that the subjects are so damn hard. I hope people would just stop being so judgmental.

To that girl:

Schools will no longer matter when you step into college. You may think that you're way way above the normal line because you're from a good high school. But let me tell you straight in your face that you're absolutely wrong. Your credibility will no longer rely on where you came from, but will instead focus on how you will be able to survive college life. I've got friends from varying universities and colleges in the metro and we don't give an ass on who's the better school or whatever immature stints you can think of. You better learn, or you won't live long.

Things Have Changed For Me

Oh. So that's why it's for three hours.

I finally got myself a taste of some ol' college final examination. And for the love of God, it wasn't as tasty as it may seem to be. In fact, it tastes like friggin shit. I should know; I've eaten my own shit before, after all.

So yeah, on the day before the finals on algebra, I slacked off. My brain can't seem to handle any more x's and y's and Christ, it's getting so freaking incessant already. A mentor from Experts told us before that you should never study 24 hours prior to your exam, because that will fuck your head out and make you forget all that you've squished in your frontal lobe. God, that guy should be knighted or something. His rule backed me up when my mom barged into my room and caught me playing with my PSP. Ha! In your face, mom.

The most-awaited day came, and for reasons I have yet to discover, I was nervous as HELL. Well yeah, I know one reason: this is the last chance I have in order to prove myself to my professor that I am, indeed, a budding engineer. I've been failing my algebra seatworks because they're too damn hard, and the only thing that can make up for all of that is the final exam. Unlike those others, I didn't compute for the actual score that I should get in the test. For one, I lost all my seatworks, therefore hindering me to compute properly. And two, I don't like spoiling out the fun, really. I just want to enjoy the test, and thus not be blinded by the fact that I have to get it all perfect or something like that.

The Einstein-level of difficulty of the exam finally gave justice as to why final examinations are three hours long. And I'm not really exaggerating or something, because it was really damn hard. In cases like this, it would be really really fun and convenient to put the blame on the teacher and his way of teaching, among other superficial reasons. But now that I'm in college, blaming others rather than yourself is bullshit. It's like 'Look, there isn't any other person to give the onus to. Your professor have given his all by merely teaching everything in a span of three months. And you..you just sat there and farted - all term long.'

And yeah, it was indeed my fault all along. It's my fault that my brain - amidst the fact that it's being punched about a hundred times a day, thanks to algebra and trigonometry - is still not geared enough to withstand friggin problems and equations that needs to be solved. I wish I'm being sardonic.

Yeah, but I'm awfully not.

My ENGLCOM professor was right. Being mediocre just plain sucks.

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After my last exam last Saturday, my blockmates and I went out of the school through the longest way ever, which is passing through SJ. We could've used the north gate instead...sure, but due to the facts that we were all so hyped-up and it was, after all, just half-past 9 in the morning, we walked our adventurous feet out of south gate. So there we were, standing outside, staring at each other and thinking of where to go now.

Charly Brown? Yuck. I read in an issue of Menagerie that they rated this one with a 0.0.
Tropical Hut? No friggin way.
Red Ribbon?

Well, we gave it a try.

It was good. Just...good.

However, my big nose smelled that there was something missing. I don't really know what element it was, but it's as if the fun is not exactly evident without it.

Had a good time though.

So yeah after hanging out with my blockmates, I hurried back to the Metro, stopping at Shangri-la Plaza at Shaw Boulevard to meet my high school friends that I'm missing A LOT. Upon seeing Rica and Ayu, my mind drifted back two years ago, when were still high school kids. We would push each other out till one gets weary as hell, and we would laugh at our Biology teacher's twsited tongue.

Those were simply the days. And those days will never go back, I'm afraid.