My Vicissitude

...is completely strangling me to death. I want my lethargic personality back, God. I don't want to be this irregular anymore.

This day seemed to be just a drift among any other school days that have passed. I mean, if I had skipped Mandarin class and take a power nap for two hours in the clinic, then this will be the first time I enjoyed a sleepless Monday. You can thank the rumor that we were to have three freakin quizzes. A rumor, for the love of God. You don't start rumors regarding academics. Jesus. Don't they ever learn?

Oh, the bitter symphony of a student who studied for her Mandarin quizzes which turned out to be pretty much bogus in the end. Sad.

On a lighter note, I have finally experienced that IMAX 3-D shit everyone was blabbing about last year. I payed 350 pesos for it, oh wow. And of course, because of my pride-filled brain, I did not let out a single word of amazement when something seemed to be coming out from the screen. I was analyzing everything. Yeah sure, we studied this one during that Optics session with Ms. Mondigo. But that was different. The 3D glasses does not have dissimilar colors, au contraire to that polarizing filter....

Stop, Lorainne. Stop. Control that adrenalin rush. Control. Control.

It was great in a way that my friends are with me. We were supposed to break away from the first batch and take the second trip home in the afternoon. But due to my paranoia and superlative insanity thoughts that we will be caught by the MOA guards, just like what they do to kids who smoke pot in movies, we went back to the lobby.

Damn.

30 Minutes of Fame

Alright. Make that an hour and five minutes. But you have to add the part where I danced that notorious papaya dance Mr. Manzano have made famous through his game show. God. That literary portal made me realize that my body is hungry for some groovin'. Damn.

We presented that 5-minute skit for 7 times. I thought all of it was so fucking good. Congratulations to my classmates, especially the props team who worked haphazardly every single minute. We deserve a perfect score for this one. We all do. Or maybe because I'm hardcorely egotistical about our literary portal. 4-2 deserves a perfect score, I deserve to die ghastly.

Now let's talk about that el estúpido uno contra cincuenta game we had at school. Sure. Yesterday was indeed a happy day. I got a high GSA, as indicated by my NCAE result. We weren't able to have that Physics quiz about Mr. Newton's laws because our batch is the audience for the juniors' speech choir. And yeah, due to unexpected predicaments, yours truly was picked as that lucky person to complete the panel who will help the players who will serve as the 'one', hence the name.

So maybe I was a bit unfair. Or I don't know, maybe REALLY unfair. Nobody voted for me. I was just...picked. I realized a while ago how that time when I was laughing my ass out with the two other DOH's turned out to be the most excruciating time of my life (more chastening than that time when I was having hard time excreting my shit out, because I ate 2 packs of Happy peanuts in one seating. With my celebratory beer, of course.). My conscience is still bugging me right now, actually. Add my menstrual cramps, and ahh! Now I give you a preview of hell.

I'm sorry for being so..conceited.

I will never ever ever join academic contests or game shows again. Dumbasses just can't procure any fame.

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I think I'm going to fail Physics. Not that I'm showing my humble side after my day-long display of complete arrogance, but because as of this writing, I haven't hustled a perfect-scored quiz.

I hate motions.

Can we go back to electrostatics again? I miss George Ohm, and his cute omega symbol. I miss drawing schematic diagrams of circuits. I miss talking about electric potential energy.

I miss getting unbelievably high quiz scores. I remember getting an astonishing 19 over 15 in that last quiz in Physics last quarter. And with that, 10 points was added to my previous grade in my report card. Woah. I'm still far-fetched right now.

And now, I can't even perfect a single quiz.

Note to self:
Lorainne, you are not losing it. Someone is just distracting you, really. Maybe it's your alter ego. Or your manic depression. Whatever that stupid distraction is, remember to wash your undergarments. Your mom will be all hysterical again if you don't.

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NCAE result time.

I'm glad that I made the right choice in choosing my course for my tertiary education. In my occupational field of interest, it clearly showed that I have the capability (and hots, evidently) for investigative (physicists, physicians, analyst, blah blah), and for mechanical (engineering, male jobs. The latter part is not a green joke or whatsoever, pervert. I am so talking to myself right now.)

I destroyed my stupid dream of becoming a doctor, more specifically a damn neurologist, a few months ago when I learned that I will have another brother. Ugh. Watching House MD makes me want to pursue Biology as my premed course, and go to that new Ateneo med school near The Medical City after. Yeah, what a stupid idea. Base your future on Gregory House's stupendous medical expertise, and you can also might as well work on Princeton-Plainsboro too.

I don't know why, but I'm having this weird feeling that I'm not going to end up as an Engineer. My heart doesn't want the abbreviation/title Engr. before my name. It wants a god-diggity-damn Dr. instead. It doesn't want me to end up working for a telecommunications company. It wants me to work in a prominent medical institution where I can tinker people's cerebral cortexes and malpratice or whatever.

Who the hell even follows the heart anyway?

I am going to be an engineer. Oh yes I will. You just wait for 5 years.

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You know what else is a wonder? I can easily write a 1000-word shit here in this blog, but I just can't write an essay about my country with the same number of words on MS Word.

Oh, and get this. I'm deferring my entry to that essay-writing contest by Manila Times. I believe that writing about what would it take for my country to develop is the most hypocritic thing I'm doing. And obviously I have to stop, because being a hypocrite and an introvert at the same time will drive people away from me. Ok, so maybe I would somehow fancy the latter idea. I will stick to my introverted belief.

So to speak, I will not join that contest anymore. I'm no journalist, essayist, or whatsoever. I can't write stuffs about anything that doesn't include myself. That's how cocky I can get.

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This blog entry is so long.

But I just can't stop blabbing. Someone just please shut me up.

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Ha. It took me roughly 2 hours just to complete this freakin' entry. Blame it on television shows.

So yes. I'm shutting up now.

Retardisimo

I have this weird habit of researching about stuffs that nobody in my age range has an impenetrable interest on. That's how useless I can get, actually. Anyways, I googled 'Dirty Sanchez' a while ago, hoping to get some proper information about the aforementioned term that is somewhat connected to what I saw a few weeks ago in a video link. And yes, it is a pornographic term that I have yet to elucidate.

Thanks to Wikipedia for the blurry and highly-delusive details. I learned a bit, really.

Dirty Sanchez is a sexual favor done by anyone who is exceptionally horny. A partner then puts feces above the upper lip of his/her lip, resembling a mustache, hence the el weirdo name. This act is connected to Coprophilia and Coprophagia, which is any sexual favor involving shit, and eating crap respectively (although I don't think ANY of this is respectable).

First of all, I cannot think of any reason why someone would actually eat his/her shit, or in more disgusting cases, eat the crap of others. What pleasure do you even get in eating dirt anyway? Yeah, I used to eat feces too, actually. But all of it happened when I was still a mindless kid, dammit. Even if Steve Jobs would give me the whole Cupertino just to eat a blob of his shit, I wouldn't do it for the world, or even for myself. I'd rather be eaten alive by African cannibals. At least I would satisfy those hungry tribes with my fat ass certainly not in any sexual way.

These people shall surely enjoy hell.

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I have bad news for those people who are long expecting me to be the new face of MyDeathSpace or SatanSpace or whatever hellish website you can think of aside from this trashy blog.

I'm leaving the bandwagon for hell (or death row, if you hate metaphors). There's just too many kids trying to be in the nicest line ever made by a group of posers. I mean, if they're committing suicide, then I'm gonna stay and live my ol' rotten life. I can't believe these people actually have valid reasons why they should die. And here I am, trying to figure out one good excuse for God to give me that waiver that will surely guarantee a package trip to heaven in my after life. Now that's non-conformity for you.

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For all of you who are addicted to House MD like me, I will spoil the hell out of you.

1. In the first episode, House will solve the medical mysteries by himself. If you can remember, House fired Chase, then Cameron abdicated as follows. And with that, his whole team is nowhere to be found in the medical institution where House is. Chase and Cameron took new jobs in Arizona, while Foreman also has a new job in New York. For all those bisexual aficionados for Wilson and House's love affair, don't worry. Wilson is still there.

2. In the second episode, House will then look for 3 new doctors who will be part of his new team. Unsurprisingly, he got 40 interviewees, hungry for some medical mumbo-jumbo with Dr, House himself. It's the whimsiest episode I've seen in the past 3 seasons. Or maybe I'm just so depressed, medical comedy is my only way out of manic depression.

Chase and blond Cameron are engaged. Not as cute as Chase alone.

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I can't wait to go back to school on Monday. This house is increasing my weight and making me all depressed about it at the same time. A sign that your belly is so abnormally big already is when you've noticed that no matter how long your shirt is, it will keep rolling up and consequently exposing your pot belly. Damn.

And since my nerdy ego kicked back 2 days ago, I've got nothing to do now. So yes, let's give the following lyrics some meaning.

I wanna put my fingers thru your hair
Wrap me up in your legs
And love you till your eyes roll back
I'm tryin to put you to bed, bed, bed
I'mma put you to bed, bed, bed
Then I'ma rock your body
Turn you over
Love is war
I'm your soldier
Touching you like it's our first time
I'mma put you to bed, bed, bed
I'ma put you to bed, bed, bed

And if you've been living in your closet for the past few months (because I think even those AIDS victims in Africa enjoy every minute of their day with this addicting song. Jesus. Why do I keep hitting on those poor earthlings anyway? My email is on my profile, for those of you who want to bombard me with hate mails. Thank you, really. You guys are making me famous.), the title of this song is Bed, made famous by J Holiday.

If you will sing it, then you'll automatically get its evident meaning. But if you're half-Jesus and you've never heard of sensuality or whatever, the lyrics might give you an impression that it's written by an incestuous father for his innocent daughter. I mean, add 3 more creepy lines then voila! I now present you a disgusting sonnet. I'm sure Mr. Shakespeare will like it, really.

You make me so hot
Make me wanna drop
You're so ridiculous
I can barely stop
I can hardly breathe
You make me wanna scream
You're so fabulous
You're so good to me Baby Baby
You're so good to me Baby Baby

This song is awfully sex-driven. I mean, what else from the opposite male can make you immensely hot aside from his.....(*insert a green joke that only a nympho will surely understand here*)? But if you actually read between the lines of the whole song, it's good. If you're sexually active, that is.

Beep beep beep,
Ang sabi ng jeep (said the jeep)
Beep beep beep beep beep
Beep beep beep,
Ang sabi ng jeep (said the jeep)
Beep beep beep beep beep
Beep beep beep
Ang sabi ng jeep (said the jeep)
Beep beep beep beep beep

No wonder our country is nowhere near growth and development. I mean, look at our transportations. They're already whining, for Christ's sake! Oh come on, it's evident in the third and fourth line, same goes for the sixth and seventh. The jeep does not want any fucking diesel anymore. What it wants is change, obviously. Ha. And you thought you're an activist.

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

That scholarship is not for me, nor I deserve any scholarship in the duration of my sucky life. Maybe in my graduate studies. But I doubt that God will give me another big shot scholarship...

Okay. Stop blabbing.

I Can Actually Die Right Now

Ever since I've discovered that I already have a sure school for my collegiate education, I've been tossing and turning on my bed, imagining what my sucky fat life would be in Mapua. And damn. No matter what I imagine, I would always look like a fat pig. That's either a sign that I will have no chance of slimming down, or a warning from God that I should stop having dry and quasi-academic fantasies.

Mapua is definitely a good school for my engineering dreams, I know. Dad took up Computer Engineering as well for his freshmen year there. When I told him the good news, he became ecstatic as hell. I don't know, he probably wants me to continue his terminated Mapuan education. As you all don't know, I'm the reason why he had to transfer to another school. Dad made love with mom..then ZING! Teenage pregnancy reveries fulfilled.

Blah-diddy-blah-blah, dad. You know very well that you have a conceited daughter. That's why she will be changing her course again to ECE.

I want a title. Badly, really. A hard-earned title. A fucking title that would shout out to the world when I finally graduate that I am, therefore, an engineer. Engr. Paragas. Engr. Paragas. ENGR. Damn that 5 characters. I've been doodling that tasty title with my last name on a size one of a paper for the last 3 days.

You people are all in trouble if I do not end up with my desired title. Knock on wood my ass.

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Odd, isn't it? I'm writing on a morning of a school day. And no, I did not skip school, for Christ's sake. I have the final paper of our IP and our data gathering for our god-forsaken thesis to deal with, dammit. As much as I would like to be killed by my seemingly baneful groupmates, I cannot leave them alone for some reasons surely NOT connected to kindness or whatsoever. Jesus. I have no heart to begin with anyway.

Today is actually the second day of our small holiday. It all started yesterday, really. They have some big time convention/seminar at school with imported caucasian speakers. They probably don't want us to interfere with their idealistic shits, and/or bother their award-winning moments with such foreign invaders. So to speak, they gave us a 3-day vacation. It's more of a 3-day escapade in hell, if you ask me. They bombarded us with tons of homeworks. Damn those obdurate creatures. It would probably kill them if we relax our minds or whatever.

My nose is surprisingly numb for pesky holidays. I can't smell that Yuletide shit again. Oh well, that's a handy excuse for me to not give gifts. Hurr-freaking-hay.

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

I gotta go to school now. Not to study, but to help people design our classroom for the literary portal shit next week.

UGHHH.

Happy Thanksgiving to all ye immigrants.

I'm Quasi-ready.

I should say that this day sucked. For one, I will not be able to play for the 1 vs. 50 game for next week because nobody voted for me, even for the panel who will serve as the department of health for the said game. I'm thinking that nobody did so because none of those representatives actually know me, aside from Monica (who was luckily voted by those other representatives to be part of that panel I was talking about. What a crucial attempt to break our friendship, huh?). I want to play SO badly. I want to humiliate myself and show the world how much of a stupid-ass I am.

But those people just won't give me a freakin' chance. Well, your loss.

(What I just said awhile ago is in a sardonic way of course. I will never ever pick a fight with smarty-pantsy people. Seriously. It's either they don't know me, or I'm just a tad noob.)

Another thing is that every senior student today was inspected due to two absurd things:

-Allegedly, somebody told our English teacher that students don't actually surrender their gadgets. Instead, they would hide it in their pockets or bags or lockers or some good place that only them and a couple of her peers would know. Honestly, I was deeply affected by this one. Not because I bring my babies to school most of the times, but because why does she have to be such a pesky and bratty girl anyway? She reminds me of that kid from Adam Sandler's movie Click who keeps on bragging his new stuffs to the Newman kids, and being such a goddamn tattletale towards everybody he hates, I suppose.

-We thought it was our fault, actually. Let's just say that T-Pain played a major role a while ago.

I thought it was cute that after the said inspection, senior students who don't really know each other would break down into small groups and talk about what just happened. I mean, really. Peace and order is definitely the new cute.

But then, something hindered me from saying that this day really sucked.

I can't believe I passed that stupid exam. As you people don't know, I was not able to study for this exam, evidently because we went out the day before to watch a crappy and sappy movie...went home late..blahblah.

And I passed it. I really did. I really really did.

I can't stop gaping.

Ugh

I'm probably weirder than I think I truly am. As of this day, I've made a total of 7 sonnets. And to think that I started last night. Oh, the horror. I don't really know what pushed me to do so. And I don't think it's the product of boredom again, because boredom can never lead you to unleash your inner hopeless romantic or whatsoever. If that's the case, then you're either in love, or you're just frustrated because everyone thinks you're mentally retarded.

Anyways, I finally took my last CET ever yesterday. I can't really say that it's the easiest. Although it can be evident with the paper they used(which is only a quarter of the usual short bond testing paper with ellipses that you have to shade.), there are countless items that I have to guess, because I was not able to review a single thing. I'm not going to blame the fact that I went out last Friday, and arrived at 10-ish PM already. Ooh, let's just blame my stupidity, shall we? Jesus. The truth that you're stupid as an ass comes handy sometimes.

My dad was superlatively proud when he knew that his freaky daughter should be a GIFT awardee after all. And I told him that it was probably the administration's fault, because they're obviously depriving me. God. Will it hurt these people to print out the truth that my GIFT grade is A+, and NOT just A? My coach told me that the grade she gave me is a hardcore A+, because I'm active enough to deserve such grade.

Or maybe all of it is a simple display of discrimination. Damn. I told you being so fat really sucks. They treat us more badly than they do to excessively ugly people.

I hate paranoia.

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Of course I'm going to share one of those weird sonnets I made. I have pride and dignity, you know. This sonnet's title is the name of a famous mall in the metro. It's big, and a high-rolling tycoon owns it, and any other establishments with the same name. And no matter how many times you read it, this is not intended for anybody that once proved his significance to my life. And no, I'm no poetic bitch-ass.

I don't know what lead me to do this
Maybe it's because I miss you so badly
Your love, how my body longs for your kiss
My heart, trying to win you back unreasonably

Things are not better off without you
Maybe I'm still infatuated, oh I don't really know
I reminisce the days when your whispers would depict love that seemed to be true;
Or maybe I'm just still sad that you have to let go

I want to show you how much blissful ignorance is
I want to show you how much I loathe you now
But that thing is, I'm still not ready to take the risk;
The risk of making everything more sour

Maybe if you come back, I would get better;
For we shall spend our lives loving each other forever

It's a wonder how I can get so sappy at times like these, when I would fail to smitten myself just by thinking of what used to be...cute.

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This week can be summarized into one word: YUM YUM.

We'll have our sickening field trip tomorrow for my Mandarin class. No classes from Wednesday to Friday.

Ooh yeah. Long freakin' weekend, here I come.

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I Slept

..for quite a good 8 hours last Monday. Yummy.

This is actually my first time to do this. You know, go home early then sleep already. And take note, I did not procrastinate anything. I already finished everything that is due the next day at school. Ah, this is really the good life, Mr. Kanye West and Teddy Pain.

I got over the fact that my Mandarin grade made me less deserving to get that stupid academic award. I cried over it at school, then cried over it at home. Then I'm over. I learned that I have to move on and try harder this quarter, if I really want to get that academic award and make my parents incredibly proud of their suicidal daughter.

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The fact that my writer's block would easily go away when I have to cram a chapter of our thesis or a mere laboratory report surprises me to death. Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is what you a real stressful confession.

This day really stressed me. No, really. First off at our first period, which is English, we talked about the upcoming English/Science fest which I think will be the weirdest day ever in school history. English and Physics are two completely different things. Yeah sure, our Physics subject is taught through the English language, but that's merely it. Shakespeare is not to be confused with gravitational forces, which is the same thing as Newton killing himself just because his lover(which I assume is his ever-famous apple) killed itself too. What a stupid stupid idea.

Now guess who the hell was able to grab that opportunity to prove her inanity again.

Oh yes. It's me. Har-dee-har. Add one more stressful and pressuring thing on my list, and I will really, really, really explode badly this time. I have the final paper of our investigatory project for Physics to deal on, and the gathering of data for our thesis, and the Manila Times blah-diddy-blah-blah writing contest I decided to join in a couple of weeks ago. I have two weeks to finish my final essay for the said contest. I doubt that I will be able to make it with all these stupid things I have to do for me to finally end this socially-burdening life of mine.

My mind is punching my sanity to rant about schoolworks right now, but oh boy. I seriously just can't.

Maybe in my collegiate years. HA. What a teaser.

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

Sometimes being so freaking fat just simply sucks. I mean, I'd rather be so ugly then have a spanking-sexy body.

NAILED. NAILED. NAILED.

I just got my report card awhile ago. It was very good. But one subject's grade really made my day.

PHYSICS.

I never ever ever made a grade in a science subject 10 points higher than the previous one. I literally gaped at that super duper high score before realizing that I indeed nailed my favorite subject(other than advanced algebra, that is). 10 points, well deserved. Yum Yum.

Contrary to what I thought last month, my general average got a bit higher than the usual. It was enough for one to be an academic awardee, but ugh. Mandarin be damned. All of my subjects are already above that 88 mark(as I can remember. God, I lost my report card again.), except for that dipshit elective I have. Mrs. Wong gave me a hard 80. 80.00, actually. I was this close into having that precious academic award, but it looks like God is challenging me again.

Damn.

And I was so close into being a GIFT Awardee too. All I needed was a plus sign behind that 'A', and voila. An award for my graduation next year.

I think God hates me. You know, for refusing to worship him and acknowledge him at times. This is probably the result of all of those treacherousness I've been showing to him for the past few months.

I wish I knew who God really is. And then I can go to him and he can smack me in the head with an infrastructure or whatever personally so I can already realize my mistakes and thus stop doing them all over and over again.


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

Schizoid

I just discovered this lately, of course. When you're no bipolar, you're actually either normal, mentally retarded, or just suffering from schizophrenia. But in my case, I just found out that I'm suffering from both shitty disorders that clearly depict some serious mental problems.

God. What a psycho.

And I thought those suicidal moments will help psychologists to discover another manic disorder that will be considered as another major breakthrough for the 21st century. Oh man. Let me stress and tinker my brain more, and the next thing you'll know, I'll be running on the streets naked, shouting "LAB REPORTS! THESIS DEFENSE! IP's! STUPID PEOPLE! TREACHEROUS FRIENDS! CIGARETTES! ALCOHOL! SEX! BWAHAHA!" My parents will finally disown me by then, much for their own good.

Oh hoho no, that is not mental retardation. That's the product of constant intake of carbonated water. sugar, caramel color, phosphoric acid, some natural flavors and most especially, caffeine.

My belly's larger than my breasts. Jesus Christ. I need a break from Coke. I guess that's what I really really need to stop blabbing on these disorders that are hindering me from being the normal person I want to be.

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The new classrooms suck. I want our old classroom back, together with its countless insect boarders and abandoned webs. And yeah, with those two air conditioners that are surprisingly not run by turbines or whatever, but by those homeless felines. What a joy.

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

Ah, what a wonder.

There is seriously something wrong with me these days. If you've been living under a rock for the past 2 millenniums, people who go to a certain place to learn stuffs will never feel a certain rush of excitement to hence learn. Logically speaking, to learn means to understand, and to understand means forcing these things to be absorbed by your brain, which has been absolutely hard for the past 12 years of my life spent on preschool, elementary, and secondary education. I'm no child prodigy.

But now, every school day seems to be a happy day. Not because I finally have a female crush, but because I'm hungry for schoolwork. God, that semestral break really molded up some schoolwork spirit, huh? I guess. Every time a teacher would give us some assignment, my lips would curve upward. I would happily scribble the assignment down on my school diary, and would also do it willingly at home, or in some cases when my energy is at its highest peak, in the school bus.

This is probably because I have this slight feeling that I flunked Mandarin. According to our Chinese teacher, I failed my quizzes. And yeah, I failed the examination too. I wouldn't be really surprised if my adviser would hand me my first ever conference slip tomorrow. I mean, who the hell likes Mandarin anyway? I took that shit because I thought I've decided that I'll take up Foreign Studies for my collegiate education, and ergo learning the world's most spoken language is a mighty plus.

But that was when I still didn't know how to maximize my educational assets. I picked that course primarily because of my bizarre likeness to airports. And that's it. Yeah. Dumbass, I know.

Schoolwork fetish. Ugh.

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There's this pesky kid from the grade school department who was in the same lane as I was in the school pool lately during GIFTtime. I'm assuming that she's a 4th grader, possibly training for their intramurals. She's the most absurd swimmer I knew. I've never seen such heinous abomination in my whole life, aside from myself, of course.

She has this two long pigtails on either side of her head. She would always put her arm on my shoulders, as if they're the new gutters. Jesus. I know they're the biggest thing you've ever seen, but that is not a reason to cling on it. And by so, my 200m Backstroke was, by far, the most dreadful thing I did today. As you all don't know, my usual routine is to stop for a minute when I finish a lap, then go and do a lap again to go to the other side. But today (oh today), I did the deadly laps non-stop. Because if I would stop, she would irritate me again. Damn that kid.

Our short-lived conversations that scrutinized my english-speaking capability.

Kid: "Are you an Indian?"
By which I replied no, of course. What a new way to insult me. Yeah, sure. Distinguish my race by how dark my underarms are, and I'll strangle you till your bones are soft enough to eat.

Kid: "My teeth is squeaky!" *rubs her finger to her tiny teeth*
To shut the hell out of her up, I irritatedly moved the side of my head near her mouth so I could pretend to be amazed by the squeaking wonders of her little incisors.
Me: "Oh."
Kid: "Does your teeth squeak too?"
Me: "No."
Kid: "Why?"
Me: "I don't have an idea."
Kid: "Well, drink water!"
Me: "I don't like water."
Kid: "But wate-"
And thank God our coach already gave me the signal to start doing laps again.

Kid: "I don't wanna do that torpedo arms floating thingy anymore."
Me: "I don't wanna swim anymore."
Kid: "Well, what else do you do? Track and Field?"
Me: "I do Physics."
Kid: "PHYSICS? But that's math!"
Ha. In your fucking sucky face, kid. Physics is no math. Physics is the only thing susceptible of explaining why you are so god-diggidy annoying.

Good thing she went out of the pool ahead of time. God knows what I could've done to her if she didn't do so.

Look, I know I have 4 siblings under me, but what the hell. They aren't as bothersome as this kid is.

So people, beware of kids like this. The next thing you'll know, they will be following you into your respective homes, and would murder your stuffed toys.

Surprise, Surprise. I Can Speak Perfect English, Jimmy Kimmel

Oh yesiree I did. I did not post yesterday just so people would think that the bored0m stick is not burdening my asshole, or whatever. But to nobody's surprise, I practically did nothing yesterday. Sure, it was All Saint's day yesterday, and all of you have probably visited your dead love ones in some cemetery or wherever.

How about me, you may ask?

Well, I slacked off, as usual. We don't have any dead relative in any of the countless cemeteries here in the metro. All of them dead-asses are either in Dagupan City in Pangasinan, or in Bulacan. Of course, being the lazy slob that I am, I did not join grandma and grandpa to their Halloween Escapade yesterday. Much as I would like to be scrutinized by my older cousins who have nothing to blab about aside from the fact they will be graduating next year with their magna cum laude-d diplomas, I cannot take the burden of commuting to a place that is 170 kilometers from my home.

Grandpa used to drive that blue Nissan pick-up when we have to go there for our yearly visit for our dead relatives I hardly even knew. I was so pissed off when grandpa told me that they'll be commuting this year. I asked my mom why the hell would he prefer to commute, when he can drive our car, or whatever car he wants (they have a couple of cars). Mom then told me that grandpa's getting old, and can't really drive that far anymore. I've never felt so flustered in my whole 16 years of existence.

God. Sometimes being awfully arrogant and selfish sucks. Even in a hermetical way, it would make you realize how bad you really are.

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

I was channel surfing awhile ago, and I came upon to one of my favorite channels ever in cable tv, which is the DZMM TeleRadyo in channel 26. I saw a headline that made me sigh exaggeratedly.
"ABC Network ng Amerika, ininsulto muli ang mga Pilipino." (America's ABC network insults Filipinos again)

As a citizen of this rotten country, my first reaction was: "What the..? Can't they just lay off for at least a month?(for the record, that racial slur is still a couple of weeks ago.)"

My second reaction was: "Whatever that insult was, I wouldn't really give a god-diggity-damn about it. Not that I'm perfidious to my country, but it's just that I don't really care that much about my country right now."



Oh wait. I finally got hold of the stupid video.





And this is my final reaction:

This is probably the most sickening thing I've heard and watched all day. Just so you know, Jimmy Kimmel said "Because especially in the Philippines..I mean, they probably don't speak English..no one can read the ransom note or anything."

What a dumbass. I need not to elaborate more.


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

I can't believe I'm saying this.

I don't want to return to school. I was thinking of our thesis awhile ago, and the mere idea of it haunted me all day. Our first drafts for the first three chapters of our thesis are missing, and I have yet to find it when I'm in my studious mood.

Ha. And to think that I was itching to go back to that hellhole a few days ago. Ugh.

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

Damn It Did

Fine. I look like a moron by being awfully hypocritical to my last post and thus posting again. It's either I play PS2 or Wii or slack off in my room or blog anyway. This semestral break is going absolutely nowhere.

I was checking out new secrets posted at PostSecret awhile ago. One secret killed me, really.

"i am afraid that the person i would love and myself will never meet, since we would both be too introverted to introduce ourselves."

Fuck. Why do some people have to share their secrets anyway? Don't they know that some people have similar secrets to deal with? I don't know why that particular secret had struck me the most. I mean, yeah sure I'm an introvert. And dammit. All introverts are misanthropic, for Christ's sake. It's not our fault we all have a tinge of Asperger's Syndrome in our pituitary glands. And it's not also gonna be our fault that some people are just born to socialize like hell.

I made a couple of what-if scenarios after pounding that stupid secret in my head.

WHAT IF..

1. I had the body of Giselle Bundchen? (And be brainless like her? No way. And even if I have both the brain and the body, I don't think that THAT will impress anyone. She looks like the extra-Asian version of my butt crack. Seriously.)

2. I'm the god of the opposite sex? (That would be weird. You know, having an obese teenage girl as a god. I doubt that even a male yak would take me sedately.)

3. I am the fantasy of every living human with XY sex-chromosomes? (Well, that would be cool. Even the most homo and hetero and trans and metro would sure be thinking of my sickening body. Damn. That should've been my thesis. You know, proving that the third and fourth and nth sex is non-existent. Ha.)

4. I have social skills, or whatever you call such? (Studies have shown that people who are very much delighted by the wonders of the universal language[clue: not english] really do lack social skills. It's a sad fact, I know. I mean, look at Stephen Hawking. Jesus. He's socially deficit.)

5. I don't giggle when I'm nervous? (Now this I would like. No more further elucidation needed.)

But then I realized that I'm already transcendent on my own. Ha. What a moronic conclusion. (and shoddily narcissistic too)

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

This day was quasi-productive.

In the gaming world, that is.

I was able to finish Final Fantasy X-2 today. Woah. What an achievement for a gaming poser like me. After 1 and a half year of tinkering my video game console, I was finally able to complete all the 5 chapters of that stupid 'ol game.

Look, I've been playing Final Fantasy for as long as I can remember. And God knows why I haven't been anime-d yet. You know, worshiping those hot-as-hell characters in the game. I find Squall hot, and that's it. It's hard to have fantasies with a video game character. I have to imagine myself as one of the characters in the game in order for my fantasy to work. And duh. I'm no Square Enix worker to do that. I tried doing it once during one boring Filipino class, and I ended up imagining Simoun smoking weed instead.

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

Okay. I'm goddamn bored. Isn't it evident? I've been blogging everyday.

I have to stop. I just have to.

Niggling

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

This was really A day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Talent Schmalent

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

Talent.

What's in a talent?

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

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

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

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

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

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


FAST FORWARD TO NOW.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

And no, I'm not bitter. WTF.

Back Seat Driver

Alright, I give up. I don't want this vacation anymore. Anyone who wants to have it can definitely take it from me as soon as possible. I want school school school instead.

There's nothing to do worthwhile at home, dang it. If there was a counter around that would count how many edible stuffs I've taken for this day, it could've blown itself like bombs in action movies do. It's either I eat now, or eat now and later and later and later. See, when I'm in school, I will not be able to eat this much. Instead, I would listen to my boring teachers, write boring notes, and laugh at boring jokes. At least THAT's quasi-productive, not like here. Scooping out snots is probably the most fertile thing I've done this day, aside from playing golf and tennis in Wii Sports.

I've never missed secondary education this much. Forget this vacation-relaxation as my last semestral break as a high school student. I mean, will all of this even matter after a year? Hell, no. I'm probably the only one who is giving a shit about everything being the last. It's like I'm going to die, or whatever (on the other hand, I WISH).

I'm going to take my fourth bath for this day. I've never felt this extreme need for tidiness in my whole life.


Later.

Flinch

NEWSFLASH: I'm no sickass. The stupid fever transferred to somewhere that's less carbonated, I guess. I enjoyed its 3-day stay in my body, even though he had me expecting that I would die, or whatever. Well, it looks like I have to wait a good year for another unrelenting fever to come my way. Sad for my part, and also for those who had already placed their orders for my casket over there at Arlington.

Anyways, I did something too dumb a while ago. But the difference is that this time, it's much more imbecilic. And absolutely irresponsible, for that matter.

Remember MSAE? Yeah well I was supposed to take it at 1:30PM of yesterday, but I wasn't able to take the test (let alone go even near the Intramuros vicinity) because we were late as hell. What happened? I'll tell you, if you promise to not call me irresponsible. Alrightey?

As I arrived home last Friday from school, the first thing I did was to text message mom to buy me a big mac, because I'll be studying my ass off till the morning of the next day comes. I need to pig out, for Christ's sake. I've been throwing up gastric substances ever since my fever erupted.

And so, I wasn't able to wait up for mom (who by the way went home at 3am already), because I was already goddamn tired. Blame the countless formulas I memorized. 22 formulas for physics alone, and I excluded the formulas for projectile motion just to see its hidden beauty. I was supposed to scan my geometry book before I hit the sack. I can't really remember if I was able to do so. I woke up at the sight of my geometry book on top of my sister's face, and please. I'm not THAT puerile and idiotic to do something like that.

Well, let's just say I woke up late-ish. And yes, I was only able to remind my mom that I have to take the MSAE after doing so. It was okay for her though, but we were able to leave the house at 1 PM already. We waited for our maid who went to the market, dang it.

And I heard that those who took it yesterday would get their much-awaited results on Wednesday. UGH.

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

I was snooping at different people that I don't know in Friendster last night. And not just people, but infatuated/smitten people (for me). What else anyway? They are in love.

There's this one girl around my age who migrated to Australia and had been living there for 5 years or whatever. All of her pictures are either his hot Aussie boyfriend's face, neck, nose, underarm, knee, spinal cord, cilia, or herself kissing any of the aforementioned body parts of her boyfriend. Good thing my fever went away before I did this.

At first I was very disgusted. Well, who wouldn't be? I can't even imagine doing that to myself, let alone to do it to other people. I mean, if you would think of it, it's completely wrong and absurd.

But as the incessant kissing and hugging pictures pass by, I've finally realized that what they have is true love.

And I therefore conclude that love is disgusting.

(HA. And you probably thought that this was all meant to be mushy. In your face, stupid cupid)

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

There are those times that you just don't know who the hell you are, or you are just so damn bored, you're looking for simple things that you can stress on or whatever. And the time for the latter is NOW.

The thought of a vacation a couple of months ago was heaven. Every single day, I would pray for something so ideally good and rational that would miraculously suspend classes and make us all go back to our bedrooms and turn everything on hiatus mode. I would imagine myself lying on my bed, with my big pillows, and my humongous comforter during Filipino class. During other boring classes, I would think of that delivery guy from McDonald's, handing my snacks. Total Burgasm and Nuggasm, that's what I would get.

But after months of sleepless mumbo-jumbos for cramming schoolworks that are due here and there, the thought of vacation had seriously made me more apathetic about relaxation. It made me want to crave more for problems. Like if there weren't any problems, I would try everything to have a new problem so that I would be stressed.

God, I'd rather have that fever again instead.

I wanna go back to school so badly. I wanna listen to boring teachers, and flunk stupid quizzes. I wanna go to the canteen, and use my ID to buy anything that would attract my eye. I wanna spend those break times with my friends that I have only 4 months to laugh everything with.

This is probably the most idiotic syndrome I've ever experienced.

Please. Let there be school. For me.

Death by Champorado

Today is the day; the day I finally got hold of a big-time fever I got from something that is so stupid. Champorado.

What is a Champorado? As the ever-unreliable Wikipedia said, Champorado is a sweet chocolate rice porridge that was invented by no less than our national hero himself, Dr. Jose Rizal. For me, Champorado is best served at any time of the day, as long as it is hot and has evaporated milk on top of it. Yum Yum, huh?

I skipped school last Tuesday, woke up at an early 7 am, and (what else?) went straightly to this computer station and researched on that contest I'm planning to join in. After a couple of minutes, mom went upstairs and brought me a bowl of Champorado. And since it was served the way I like it to be, I was able to finish it in a minute. Good grief.

After a few minutes of doing so, I felt this very strong tinge of dizziness. At first, I just shrugged it all off. But when my massaging powers and apathy did not help, I hurriedly turned off the computer and went straight to my bed to sleep again so that when I wake up in the later hours of the day, I would feel much better.

That's what I thought. But ugh. What I thought was completely wrong.

I woke up at 10am, dizzy. I woke up at 1 am and skipped lunch, for that matter, still dizzy. I woke up at 3 am because mom and the maid banged on my lock door just to give me greasy stuffs to eat (McDonald's.), still f-ing dizzy. Ate that big mac goodness, and threw it all up because my head is circling with the highest centripetal force one can experience in their big ol' heads.


And I woke up yesterday with a fever I did not expect coming. I'm literally burning right now with 40-degree Celsius body temperature.

The End.

THREE REASONS WHY I CAN'T GET SICK RIGHT NOW:
1. I have my MSAE on Saturday. I don't really think I can re-schedule my last CET.
2. I can't afford to be sick these days, primarily because I'm tad too lazy to take my meds. (What a reasonable shit)
3. It's our semestral break next week, for the love of God. How the hell am I supposed to enjoy it with this stupid fever? GAH.

ONE REASON WHY I SHOULD GET SICK RIGHT NOW:
1. Because I want to die already. I'm more than ready, God. I have accomplished all those things a girl that will go through the process of pre-adulthood has to have. I think the world and its people is the funniest joke and wonder anyone has to laugh and ponder on. And ergo, I'm not a joke. I'm MORE than a joke. I am a big book with the greatest story ever told that even Mark Twain himself can't beat with his fancy-schmancy fairy tale shits. I think the people of Inferno has to read me to stop overreacting down there.

And when I finally die, my peers would make the nicest funeral speeches that the world will yet to hear. I can imagine it now: my obese body in a big black casket, dressed in the sexiest lingerie ever. My funeral would probably be in an Apple Center, and instead of eating regular biscuits, y guests would eat those specially-designed, apple logo-shaped cookies. Specially-designed in a way that it would self destruct in 5 seconds when it detects saliva or even carbon dioxide in its surroundings. And we will all die happily ever after.

Steve Jobs would most likely design a laptop just for me, called the iLorainne. It will beat the hell out of that coffee-table computer shit Bill Gates has (and thus the whole Microsoft empire has one too. BOO). It will have a 10-megapixel integrated iSight camera (integrated because it's not just a camera anymore. It's now a digital single lens reflex camera, lenses are sold separately of course.). It only has this 60" monitor (that can be fluctuated to any smaller size you want, but sadly, 60 inches is the maximum size) with 1000 yottabyte of hard disk storage. It will run on 100.89 THz, so multi-tasking will compete on a cheetah's average speed. It only has one optical drive, which acts as a drive for compact disks and for universal serial bus disks. It is purely wireless, so to speak. In fact, even without the presence of radio waves and signals for one to connect easily to the internet, it can definitely sign you in on your friendster account in a freakin' picosecond. Leopard as the OS? Not really. Those guys at Cupertino will make the greatest operating system ever invented, which is the Laughing Hyena 1000.

The details are still sketchy, but that's what is sure to hit the stores near you when I die.

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

Biographical moment.

1. I am Lorainne. Seriously, just call me that and NOTHING else, aside from my infamous nickname that did not originate from a very famous R&B singer, Oyen.

2. I was musically-inclined, until the emergence of local rock bands that definitely made everybody think that playing the guitar is so f-ing cool. And yes, I still now how to play the guitar. And no, I'm not going to play again for anyone's sake. And yes, I still have a guitar. And no, I will not definitely sell it. And yes, I'm acting like a total moron right now.

3. I only have two vices, namely, Coke (the softdrink) and alcohol. The latter is not seriously proven yet, but I enjoy the company of it no matter what situation I am in. The former is one of those things I seriously have to quit because I'm already a diabetic, and I should therefore watch my sugar intake (on the contrary, I will NOT because I want to die, remember?). And it really really helped to the existence of a pot belly in my body.

4. I swim (this will not be elaborated much further).

5. Okay yeah I swim and so what? Maybe I did regret that I did not join the swimming team. But I'm over it anyway. I have a life to end.

6. I am not a bipolar. Stupid things just irritate my boring soul.

7. Yes, I did quit that chance of writing for the school newspaper. No regrets, really.

8. Actually, I like quitting stuffs I worked hard for. It's up for you to decide if those were acts of pride, or acts of incongruity. But for me, I just like proving to people that an obese girl can do more things than normal-size people do. All I want to say is people should stop discriminating and we should all just enjoy what we have in this world like McDonald's.

9. I am a very concrete example of teen angst.

10. I am not a writer. I just like to pretend that I am one.

IM me if you're ready with your funeral speech for me already.

I Just Blogged 2

Christ, I haven't blogged for almost a week. Screw me.

Anyways, I have to make this extra quick because..well...our car will be leaving for about 5 minutes or so. I have to go to school today, dammit.

UPDATES:

1. Good Lord, I haven't been mortally stressed or whatever for the past few days. And that's probably the reason why I forgot that I have a stupid blog that needs updating. I'm sorry for making you a stress output, bloggy. Well, what's your use if you weren't so anyway.

2. The Ferrari theme for our batch quasi-rocked, au contraire to what we thought a few weeks ago. I like this ferrari horse Patti drew in my hand. Picture? No way.

3. The seniors volleyball team won against the juniors at the 2nd game of volleyball yesterday. It was guh-reat, so to speak. We were on the flagpole, and everytime they would score a point, we all can't just help to dance or even move. Maybe because our spot was the best. Or I'm just itching to dance.

4. I'm not even supposed to be going to school today, because I have to watch Dubai again for our Filipino movie review blah-diddy-blah-blah because I wasn't really paying that much of attention when we watched it at school. Good thing my mom's melodramatic, for we have DVD copies (make that ORIGINAL copies) of Filipino movies like such. Anyways, I took the risk to cram it when I get home today, because Monica asked me to go watch games with her tomorrow. Well, fine.

5. I will be joining yet another essay-writing contest. I'm not gonna tell the whole details, but it's for a newspaper in the country, and 15 thousand pesos is at stake. Well, wish me luck so.that I would not say goodbye to a contest again.


Anyways, I'll update much further later. Mom's screaming in the car already.

An Open Letter for A Friend

Ok, this doesn't count as a blog entry. But what the hell. I'm missing my friend.

Dear Friend,

One week. Without you. Without someone to talk to. Without someone to laugh at my jokes. Without someone I can confide with. Without someone to..well..make me a somebody.

You might find that absolutely shallow, at the most. I mean, I just talked to you awhile ago. I was happy when you said you're missing me, because evidently, we are missing each other. To tell you the truth, the reason why I cried yesterday was nowhere caused by the darkness(which represents a person) that just mocked a dementor and sucked the happiness of not only a person, but the whole ambiance of the environment as well, but was hence caused by our lack of communication for the past few days. To which I shall conclude, I cannot last 4 days without talking to you for at least an hour.

I don't know why I'm acting the way I'm not even supposed to. I'm apathetic, for Christ's sake. My heart should be closed for any emotions due to sad occurrences. In mere inherent words, I am not supposed to be in susceptible of missing people, or even loving them(for which I proved wrong during those times I fell in love with jerks, so as to say.). I'm admitting it now like some sac religious would admit that his faith is still in God; I miss my best friend. :(

I'm sorry for feeling so, but I'm being emotionally drained by all of it.

But hell, I know for sure that aside form the fact that I'm being jealous, I'm also being selfish. And it is quite obvious, if you'll ask one of my closest friends in our class.

I'm thinking that this is God's way of perking things up. Like what Big Brother would do to his housemates..you know..putting stupid twists, and ending up to nothing close to reconciliation in the end.

Well, let His will be done, as the prayer implies. But just so you know, I'm...sad.

Really Really Sad Now,

Lorainne

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

I have a chapter two of a thesis to do, so I gotta make this quick.

UPDATES:

1. The possibility of our batch winning as champions for the upcoming intrams next week is comparable to the possibility of my body fluctuating to an Olsen twin size just in time for the graduation ball. And actually, you're right - or I'm assuming that you are, since nobody's making an implication that you are even reading this. SCHOOL SPIRIT'S MISSING. I have no plans of looking for it.

2. Glorietta 2 got 'bombed' today. The welcoming motorcade for the first Pakistani female prime minister got suicide-bombed today. Some province in Iraq got bombed today. GhyzGhyz, a country in Mars like that of the United States of America, got seriously bombed today(and by seriously, I meant that nobody laughed after the incident.) And oh, what a B-E-A-yootiful global warmed world we have here! And just in case you would like to know, my bombing day is on the 32nd of October. Come join the deadly fun.

3. I'm so through with that intimidation shit I just hardcorely went through last few weeks. Besides, no organism can ever hold a candle to the number of maggots that feeds on this garbage I shall call 'blog'. And this is not making any sense at all.

4. Palancas has this weird way of making you feel so good about yourself. Now that's new.


Oh I'm sorry for this ever-so-senseless blog entry I just did. I'll make it up to you, bloggy, after going through things I have to go through. Ah, redundancy. *tears*

Chees-ay.

Retreat was nice. Not just nice, but really really really nice. It was the most meaningful one I've had for the past 6 years I've been attending recollection and retreats. I dunno. It's probably because there wasn't a day that I didn't shed a tear, which is actually new for me since I don't usually cry just because of..well...spiritual stuffs.

Anyways, here is an entry I wrote in this highly-improvised journal. The journal itself is made of 3 typewriting papers that were stapled together in the center fold, so that it would make a cutesy impression that is, therefore, a 'journal'. God. A roll of tissue would have been much better, if you ask me.

Dear Journal,

It is the second day of our retreat today. I feel so obnoxious, sleepy, and cold. I felt like I'm in the 9th circle of hell during my 'sleep'. The icy atmosphere was hence brought by the gush of the airconditioner, that we stupidly set on a 22-degree temperature before we went to bed. And as I woke up with the knock of the bell ringer on our door, I raced to the airconditioner to turn it off because my whole body is literally numb. My eyes formed big holes as I saw that the aircon is already running on 16-degrees. What the....

And oh, for the love of God, I'm nowhere near renewal. That sounds bad, I think.

The place is absolutely nice. Well of course, like everything else, it was missing this element that'll surely cause the extinction of spiritual places like this. Oh-ho. TELEVISION. Crap.

The rooms look like that of hotel suites. The bathroom smells good, prior to the fact that you or your did not excreted your toxic wastes.(SHITS, actually. But yeah. I'm not supposed to write it there because I thought the journal will be collected. But now I did.)

Amidst all of these nicey-spicey things that were given to us, I'm still wondering why I can't get hold of my desire, which is God's presence. No matter how intent I would pray, God just wouldn't stop ignoring me. Hmm. Mayne Sr. Vianney was right. Maybe I SHOULD have that gift of disciplines. God will never ever talk to somebody who thinks that even the smallest of things are way too funny to be ignored. Or maybe..just maybe..I should change. I've promised way too many times before that I would, ergo, undergo to to a hardcore metamorphosis that would surely kick that highly-negative and apathetic outlook out of my sucky life. But sadly, my incessant stubbornness is literally and figuratively hindering me to do such. I feel so sorry for myself.

So when will I change? I keep on complaining and complaining that things keep on changing, an I never got that hang of it. Things probably change because YOU need to change. Weird, isn't it? I find it absurd that those things are the ones that are making a move for us. It seems that they're the ones living OUR lives, not us.

Unexpectedly, I cried during the last part of the healing process. I imagined myself telling these things I aforementioned above to a friend. But quite surprisingly, that friend of mine turned out to be Jesus. (*insert any religious song here*) I asked my friend, 'When will I ever change? Will it always be this way? Will I ever learn to be responsible for my acts, or would retain that act of giving false pretenses?

By thus, I felt God beside me, seemingly guiding me as I ask these questions to myself. Someone may find this stupid, but I just stared above and intently talked to him.

And yes, I can say now that I'm healed; my story is indeed God's love story after all.

Uh. Maybe I took the retreat too seriously. It is a wonder how I managed to participate in all the spiritual activities we did. Why? As you can remember, I used to be an agnostic, practicing a great irony within the great walls of my Catholic school.

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MCOY FUNDALES.

I still can't believe I can now see my crush everyday on national television.

And actually, Mr. Fundales is one of those gods that I worshiped(and still worshiping). Hurr-ay.

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DLSU-CET review. Let's roll.

-DLSUCET is simply the De La Salle University College Entrance Test. It has 7 parts. And don't ask me what those parts are. UGH. It wasn't really indicated before that part or whatever, which is really really absurd.

-DLSUCET is much much much easier than the 2 CET's I took up months ago.

-DLSUCET was the most boring CET I ever took up. There were absolutely NO interesting people. All looked so middle class-y and normal.

-DLSUCET sucks because you will be given 15 minutes of break, and by that you are not allowed to stay and doze off in the room. UGH. I was a victim of this shit. I wasn't aware that I was overstaying at that bench for 30 minutes already, so...I got 35 minutes for the numerical ability part instead of the 50 minutes you will get of you return to your testing room ON TIME.

-DLSUCET will make you feel better. For some reasons unknown, it did so to me.

-DLSUCET or DLSU per se is so tech-savvy. At the first week of January, you can either wait for the results to be mailed to you, look it up on DLSU's website, or better yet, text DLSU(space)EEXAM(space)Reference #, then send to 2333 for Globe subscribers, and to whatever number for Smart subscribers(It's not MY fault I wasn't paying attention. Like DUH, why the hell would I even bother to remember that? I'm not a Smart subscriber.). This is superlatively nice.


Good luck to the last batch. WE WILL ALL PASS!

I Just Blogged

...to say, I'll bore you. Oh, the catharsis.

Anyways, at exactly 5 hours and 30 minutes from now, we'll be drifting off to Tagaytay City for our last retreat ever of our schmunky high school lives. Ah, this is the life. After taking up the DLSUCET, now off I go to a real relaxation and renewal process. Just what I'm begging to God for the past few years. Oh well. I can live with this anyway.

So why am I still awake as hell? Well, I crammed up my night by making people's palancas, which is by far the nicest thing I've done this weekend(excluding the fact that I studied for the dlsucet, and proving that miracles really do happen by carrying my obese body up just to clean my bedroom). I have this slight feeling that I'll not be getting more palancas than the number inferred to last year. I so don't care.

DLSUCET was..okay. I'll do a list of my observations of the aforementioned CET after I get back from the retreat. I doubt that the list will be as good and as neat as the one I did for the ACET. Jesus. There is a higher possibility that I'll be cleansed/renewed than the possibility of this blog being read by Jessica Zafra or some blogger/columnist I idolize like hell. How oblivious.

So, bloggy. I'm off to a delicious doze now. I'll be abandoning you for 3 days. No one really cares.

But before I would offer myself to God or some random nun, I just want to say that this show I'm currently watching at ETC is pissing the hell out of me. I think it's the Real Gilligan's Island or whatever. They're trying so hard to make things a bite of reality by doing drag shows around campfires.

And I thought that Reno 911 on JackTV is the worst show I've ever watched. Excuse me while I vomit out the suckiness my mind just absorbed.

Au Revoir. Zai Jan. Goodbye.

Faux Pas

I cannot contain myself.

All of you just have to laugh at the same thing I was laughing so hard at a while ago.

Out of boredom and refusal to study for my dlsu-cet, I dared myself to act all stupid and idiotic and IM a random person on my YM list, and ask a (what else) random question that'll surely test them to death. The question I thought of was neither that of Physics-related, nor even a question that has a high possibility of showing up at any CET or whatsoever test one may take up in the duration of his/her life.

And so:

Me: What is the meaning of RSVP anyway?
Friend(or I assumed he was to me before he answered): Weh!
Me: Ano nga? Di ko nga kase alam di ba
Friend: tumigil ka nga! alam naman nating lahat na ang rsvp ay reservoir s'il vous plait, no! nagtatanga-tangahan pa to! ulul!


Talk about extreme faux pas. Tank please? WTF.

And just so dumbasses would know, what he said is not even close to what RSVP really means. And for the love of God, that's why we have Babel Fish for. Systran is giving us a chance to pretend like we're all linguists, and/or to avoid f-ing language errors or whatnot.

And no, I'm not trying to be mean or whatever. I AM mean. I don't need to try.

Absurd with a capital ABSUR

This blog is experiencing extreme inconsistency. Sorry, bloggy. This week was the closest to heaven I'll ever get, I guess. I mean, I only had the Physics lab report and the crapbook for CL to do. All has been procrastinated by our teachers after our retreat next week.

This is what a senior student can only ask for after countless tedious weeks of revising chapters of theses, and being brutally killed by shadow plays and Dante's Inferno itself. We can all thank the owner of this blog for that awful sarcasm that was able to reincarnate us all.

And, what do you know? I haven't failed a single exam yet. Hmm. What a relief. This is the first time that I nailed most of my examinations. Ever since I entered my current school, it has became so incessant that I would never nail one too many tests. What a major breakthrough. Now I can erase #12 in my Accomplishment list. Yes siree.

My head hurts.

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I looked up 'intimidation' in the reference thesaurus a while ago. Look at its synonyms:

fear, terror, terrorism


Woah. Not exactly what I felt last Wednesday. (Intimidation is the same as sexual harassment too, which I'm guessing that nobody really needs to know.)

INTIMIDATION

Mr. Webster defined it as : to frighten, to discourage, to threat, to scare, to silence
As I define it : to challenge my intellectual susceptibility skills, to f-ing outsmart me in more ways than one, and/or in ceaseless peculiar ways (which surprises me too).

I hate it when someone intimidates me (well THAT's sedately new). It's like I'm in an imaginary contest, and our prize is to total dignity that will further on save humanity. It's highly-similar to that of stupid races with no prizes. Well, in this case, we have pride and that academic award as a prize.

And I know I exuberantly suck at contests and the like. And just in case you're feeling stupid because you failed in something that seems so intrinsic to other people, I want to tell you now that I wasn't able to join that essay-writing contest I bragged a few weeks ago because of..well..inanity. It was scheduled on that Wednesday afternoon, by which I have my GIFT class to attend to. And as each successive day passed by after that show of extreme foolishness, I would always remind myself to ask Mrs. Bronilla if I can still write an entry.

The essays the other contestants made are now posted near the HS Quadrangle, and I am feeling very sorry for my ever-so dumb self.

Intimidation. How I hate you, I cannot say.

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It is a wonder why you have optimistic people like that of the members of GreenPeace, and on the other hand, you have a human proof right here that Satan is a girl. And if you're still wondering on who the hell I'm referring to, please..just please..get your ass out of here.

I don't get it. Why do you have to be optimistic? We all know that good things are becoming less and less likely to happen each day, much gratitude to pollution and politics(talk about Ebony and Ivory, or any interracial couple).

There's a lesson here somewhere. I'll look for it. *disappears into highly-polluted air*

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I like someone.

And that someone is I.

It's quite stupendous how being a point away to the highest-pointer of the Physics exam in your class makes you so narcissistic, you've forgotten all your social burdens for a second.

So narcissistic, you're denying your former crushes just because you think you're smarter by 1 quintillion brains.

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Dad and I have this weird father-daughter relationship. When he's up there in Europe, we email each other like we're relatively close, hence by talking to one another almost everyday. But when he's here during the Christmas season, we would never have that chance to blab all we want to, like we always do in the virtual world.

It's kinda guilt-strickening too that amidst all that parental duties my mom has been doing for the past 16 years, I still consider my dad as my hero.

When we went to Poland 4 years ago, I had this unearthly allergy on both of my asscheeks. They itch like hell, and everytime I would stand behind a mirror to see what a nightmare my ass looks like, I would see bleeding scars and the likes of 'galis'. It was very tormenting. I can see the grimace of our Polish housekeeper everytime she would caught me putting my left hand inside my very loose shorts. It's like a wave of Satan's fart passed by everytime I would do so.

And so, my mom and dad decided that I should seek a doctor. If you would use your common sense, an 11 year old with a living hell on both of her asscheeks can never be susceptible of going to a doctor of a country she barely heard of. Before we went to Poland, my dad encountered a vehicular accident that made the company he was working for to confiscate his car. So for us to go to a doctor, we have to call for taxi to get us there.

Commuting with my dad is, by far, one of those experiences a daughter of an OFW will never ever forget. He went to the doctor with me, even if my ass by then was on the number 2 spot of that SCARY THINGS list. And of course, Michael Jackson's topped it. Dang it. I don't get it why the bleeding scars ON MY ASS are nothing compared to this child molester.

We went to the mall together, shopped together, went home together.(Well of course we would do things together. I'm his daughter, for Christ's sake)

Strangely enough, we can never ever ever ever do this when he's here in the country.

I think I'll blame it on the climate.

Or the current president.

Because it would be so clichéd if I would blame it on my parent's relationship again. Ooh, and so conformist too.

The truth really does hurt sometimes.

Oh Crap

It has occurred to me that I haven't posted anything for quite a long time. This is a good sign, I think. It solely means that I'm neither stressed, nor bored. What a big effin wonder.

WELL, WHAT'S NEW?

1. Exams are hobbididly-bibbly over. The hardest exam was probably that of the Economics. And no, it wasn't because of the computation part (it was even the easiest). There were so many terms that wasn't even taught to us, which is absurdly nasty, if you'll ask me. The easiest was the math exam, to everyone's surprise. (and for those concerned with the last item, the answer is 218, very contrary to the 3 almost everyone answered. WTF)

2. Mom bought me and my sister a pair of Crocs sandals each. I don't know about you guys, but fancy-schmancy footwear was never in my Christmas wish list or whatever. The only footwear I appreciate no matter what genre I'm in are sneakers, and that's because they look cool and they're relatively comfortable than that of flats or heels. BUT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, Crocs is definitely one hell of a footwear. I was trying it out the night I bought it, and I was like walking with my foot naked. It is THAT good.

3. I went out swimming yesterday with a couple of friends and the mayor of Pasig himself. Although I think the trike driver didn't think that he was, indeed, the mayor of the city he's living in. He charged us 40 fucking pesos after driving us with his shaky tricyle from the plaza to Denise's house, which is just a short freakin' distance. Well, what the crappy hell. I enjoyed it anyway. Thanks, friends.

4. I'm having a hard time doing the 2nd chapter of our thesis. NOW THAT'S NEW.

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I know for sure that there is no way my grades will go higher this quarter. I screwed up in almost every subject. And I know for sure that there is seriously just no way my dad will give me a condominium for Christmas, nor for graduation.

Just great.

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There was a time when I thought that incessant news about politics or whatsoever is enought to piss my ass off for the whole week. And that time has come of change.

BRITNEY SPEARS

Oh, f-ing hell. I'm feeling absolutely sorry for myself for worshiping her during my childhood days. I used to wish that my hair would go blond like hers, and would shine as if it's the sun's sister or something. Her kickass body would always make me envy every girly shit out of her. And everytime I would catch that "Give Me Baby One More Time" video on Videoke Channel or MTV, I would stay mesmerized for the rest of the day. Sounds absurd, huh? But it's not my effin fault that her songs are damn catchy.

But oh boy. Drugs, alcohol and Keven Federline should never EVER be consumed by a pop star, or else she'll have to get her hair shaved off, or lose the custody of her children.

I'm taking in too much Britney rumors.

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I'm in love with Jake Lopez.

This is one serious issue that needs to be dealt with.

And even God doesn't know how the hell would I do that.

(And no. There's just no way I'm going to tell who he is. He's my friend...in Friendster, that is.)

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It's kinda awkward when you talk with your relatives about your blog. In my case, they started the pristine round-abouts about my blog, which has become repetitive every time they'll visit us in our house every Sunday.

Grandma: Sabi nila tito mo, ang galing galing mo daw magsulat. Ang galing mo daw mag-english.
Me: Tch.
Grandma: Oh, eh bakit hindi Mass Comm o CommArts o English ang kinuha mo?
Me: Corny kase yun, lola.
Grandma: *grunts in a masculine way*


I seriously don't know why they are making a biggie out of my course in college. I'm going to be an engineer, for Christ's sake. Shouldn't they be excessively proud instead? It is absolutely rare for a girl to dream of becoming a hardcore computer engineer. That's why I like it. No way I'm going to take up something that the majority is in favor of taking up too. No offense to CommArts majors, but I don't really think communicating to people is my forte(which is part-ironic. I speak 4 languages, and can understand 3 local dialects. WTF).

And for the nth time, writing here is just an OUTLET of my stress and boredom. There is no possible way I'm going to make a fortune out of writing stuffs. Use your common sense, people of God. Who the hell would pay for an article filled with countless grammatical errors and incongruity?

(As of this writing, I'm pretty sure Manny Pacquiao will lose, and the people of my country will grieve so much that there is this high possibility that classes will be suspended tomorrow. Talk about great shallowness.)

Whoop-de-whoop.

A honeybee can stop conformity in an instant. It can either quit his honey business, or be idiosyncratically happy and run a fastfood restaurant instead.

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Of all the religious feasts I have to remember as a Christian, it is that of the feast of the Our Lady of Rosary that has this distinction that would always pang me in the head every 7th of October.

I'm begging someone to differ.

Anyways, good luck to the DLSU Green Archers for the final game this afternoon. Oh GIDDY.

Thank God for giving us this. You can blame him for my femininity.

Meebo Me

Generalized Ponderations

Because I'm constantly refusing to study for our periodical exam tomorrow (and well, out of boredom, I guess.), here I present to you are absurd and generalized ponderations that I would like to say to stupid people to shut the hell out of their big mouths. If what I just said a while ago isn't ironic, then, for the love of God, tomorrow's surely my death day.

If there's one thing other than pop stars and suck-ups that is always constant and consistent, that would definitely be life's suckiness.

I'm finding it absolutely weird that people are more susceptible of finding the bad in the good, rather than finding solutions to algebraic answers that has nothing to do with the previous statement.

There is no such thing as a corny or cheesy joke. On the other hand, we have boring and sullen people's perceptions to blame for the existent of such in this contemporary era we are living in.

As the great Nobel-prize winning theoretical physicist Frank Wilczek said, "In Physics, you don't have to go around making trouble for yourself - nature does it for you.". And I thought that gumamela flower was way to cute and pretty to be stepped on. Payback time.

Cats are not really chasing rats for their dinner. At times, they're willing to look like a-holes just to have a rat's prized possession...cheese. But in this cat-chase-rat generation we are living in, cats will never look like a-holes by doing do. On the other side of the coin, his other furry friends will treat him like friggin King Solomon or something instead.

If we would all prefer to be with King Minos and other Inferno characters down there in the underworld, who will be left for God's grace here in this land He created?

John Mayer's right. Like him, every one of us should be worried if we weigh three times our body. Hence, we should be worried NOT for ourselves, but for those others who doesn't feel the same way we are fortunately feeling. Why? Yeah well that means that they're all being chicken and wimps by depriving the abilities that they really have.

I don't know if conformists are fond of searching sensible quotes that actually refers to them. but I do know for sure that they will go to the second bolgia of the eight circle of hell. God, didn't they know that imitation is the best form of flattery? Yeah and because of that, they are all really deserving to be immersed in our shits forever and ever.

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And to conclude this mediocrity , here is a picture of my new baby brother, Enrique Achilles.

I don't find him cute neither.