Saturday, October 25, 2008

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.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

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.

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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.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

BDTGD* Sentiments

*Bad-Day-Turned-Good-Day

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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.


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

Sunday, October 05, 2008

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.

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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.

Wednesday, October 01, 2008

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.