Zeitgeist

I was playing with my spicy chicken noodle a while ago, thinking of my last week as an immature shithole, and how the hell am I going to spend it. Actually, I've already created this sort of mental list of things I shall do every single day to relish these precious last days of my callowness I shall surely miss when college finally hits my big ass. Like for tomorrow, I'm going to enroll my sister in my previous school. I know, right? That's not even puerile, for Christ's sake. Mom wanted me to run a few errands like this one, so I might as well just do it for the sake of saving my ass from being bigger than its current state by sitting on it at home all freaking day long. And after that, off I'll go again to DLSU to buy the prescribed PE uniform for my PE class the week after. And for the rest of the day, I shall play with my MRT/LRT Stored Value Card by exploring the city and end up in some jail. Now that is one hell of a day.

It was just a week ago that I was doing exactly the same thing. Mom treated me to Chowking for dinner after LPEP Day One and we ordered the same stuff: noodles, tofu, etc. I was also playing with my noodles during that time, and thinking of things I shall accompllish before the start of the classes, and/or my new life. Monday, check. Tuesday, hmm, there's something really special about Tuesday, but I cannot really remember what the hell is it. Wednesday, I'd probably get a tattoo - then BAM! The bowl of steaming hot noodles fell off the table and made its way between my humongous thighs. It took me a minute or two to realize it or to even hear my mom's surprised gasp. After the busboys helped me to clean up, mom kept asking what the fuck happened to me. I told her that I was just sleepy so she could stop asking.

Now 6 days after, I realiized that while I was thinking of things that I shall do with Wednesday, a small part of my brain is still stuck by the mystery brought by Tuesday. And it just hit me that Tuesday = 20th = 17th birthday. How the hell can I even forget my own birthday? Yesterday
was Janine's(a former classmate) birthday. Three days ago, it was my brother's birthday. Eight days ago, it was Grandma's birthday. And to think that I can remember these people's birthday, I can't help but be surprised at what's happening to me, too. Last year, I even posted a birthday wish list, an entry on my last Thursday as a 15-year-old, and my weird birthday depression. And it's beyond flabbergasting that I even managed to forget my upcoming birthday.

I can't really blame anyone - not even myself for all of this outré crap about yours truly forgetting her own birthday. I mean, fuck birthdays. With the familial revelations I witnessed this week alone, forgetting my own birthday is just of normality. It could be worse, you know. I could've eaten our dog's ass and swear that it tastes like mine, or worse yet, I could've just bring back the emotive-suicidal days I used to have last year. No freaking way I would let the latter happen. And that doesn't mean that I would also do the former. Fuck you, fuck you.

So yeah. Two more days, and I have a year to be as immature as I want myself to be.

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I don't get it why I can write stuff like this when I'm bothered by my emotions and the like. And when I'm bored, all I can write about is how my avoirdupoisness is freaking the shit out of everybody, including our dogs. Anyways, I was supposed to email this one to my father days ago before I realized that I can just ignore my parents if they're tiring me like hell. So young rebels, knock yourselves out.

You know what's weird?

My parents. I actually don't know if they are my real parents, and my liaison with them is just based on paper. If that's real, then I'm probably the lead star of a local television drama situated in the afternoon - you know, the character who's being mentally killed by her mere 'father and mother'. And sooner on with the story, I'll find out through DNA testing and the international hit talk show Maury that my father is not really my father and my mother is not really my mother. I'm suspecting that I'm Stephen Hawking's child with a Filipina he met in a chatroom ages ago. At least my real dad is being a dad that he is, and my real mom is not the hypocrite my fake mom showed me.

I envy my friends who have broken family as well. See, even if their fathers left them, their mothers don't preach about how smoking is so fucking badand smoke behind their children's back. I've had enough of stupid hypocrites and I can't believe MY own mother is doing this to me. 6 days before my 17th birthday. or is it 35th? I don't know, really. My parent's problems with each other have been absorbed by my big body and surprise! - I've physically and mentally matured way way waaay ahead of my age. At 17, I should be partying, doing drugs, smoking, drinking my fat ass off and other stupid stuff teenagers around my age commonly do. Well, that's not what's happening.

Your problems with each other have molded me to become a better person; someone who shall withstand useless vices in the duration of her life. I don't really know if I should thank you for that. See, if I did, you guys would continue the evident. You will still be the gigolo you are born to be(at least that's not harmful for me.) and mom's gonna puff cigars till her lungs dry up. I told you it's weird.

We had this thing in our freshman orientation called Pito-Pito, the seven parts of St. John Baptist De La Salle's life. We were to write our reflections in each part and whatnot. One part wanted me to reflect on who do I consider my hero. I remember that 4 years ago, we had this project in Philippine History about the same thing. Heroes. I would've chosen Hiro Nakamura of Heroes because he's this cute japanese guy who can stop time and do stuff, but Heroes have yet to exist 2 years after 2004. So yeah, I considered you as my hero. I still remember how green with envy mom was when she saw my project with your picture and some description of you. I felt bad after that.

But then I remembered that this shit's too goddamn long, and I doubt that anybody would even read it anyway. I'm not really encouraging anybody to start a grudge against their parents. It's just that there will come a time when you finally realize that your parents are doing stuffs they're not supposed to do. Like my dad being a selfish father, and my mom being a chain-smoker. Things that happen out of nowhere and of peculiarity are probably made to startle you or to wake you up from the reality that's waiting out of the boundaries of your mind. In that case, I'm lavishly woken up.

And it's too bad I can't go back to sleep anymore.