In Nadia Wheatley's Lucy in the Leap Year, Lucy had this belief that there's something magical with February 29; the year's extra day. Leap Day isn't really much of a biggie to me ever since I was a kid. I mean, God, it's just a fucking day anyway. It's not like Jesus will appear in front of me or something. If things go that way, then yeah, Leap Day would probably be a biggie.
Last night I found out that dad will not be able to go to my graduation day two weeks from now. Actually, I would like to express how bad I'm feeling about it, but sadly the word that would sum it all up isn't discovered yet. Maybe some other time. Or never, because I doubt that anyone would give a damn anyway.
So yeah, I went to school today with puffy eyes and wet face - fresh from the crying shiznit I did in the car on my way to school. But amidst all that, my mind still wants to think that this day is gonna be my luckiest day ever, as far as Lucy's concerned. It's gonna be my last real school day anyway, so I crossed my fingers, trying to make unclear ends meet with my 'lucky day' juxtaposition.
But I guess I'm too evil to get a taste of luck.
This all happened TODAY:
1. I didn't get to study because I kept crying the night before.
2. I had puffy eyes for the rest of the day.
3. I received our thesis, and yeah, we had the lowest score ever.
4. I came down at the slope 12pm, wondering where the hell is my school bus.
5. I knew it, I so knew it. The bus left me.
6. I didn't have any money with me, so commuting was out of the picture. Unless I begged to people or something, which I evidently cannot do because somehow, I still have some pride left with me.
7. I saw our car going up the school. God, I was ecstatic as hell. I chased it up till I reach the parking area, and for reasons I don't know, the car was gone. How the hell could mom drive through our school? That would be so imbecile.
8. I cried upon knowing that my mom's gone, because that alone means that I have to wait for the next trip of the bus, which will not happen until 4 hours after.
9. I waited for four friggin hours.
The list would be extra-cool if it contained 10 misfortunes. I'll try harder to be more unlucky next time.
Screw Lucy. Leap Days suck. That's probably the reason why they only exist every 4 years.
------------------------
SCHOOL'S SO OUT.
Well, not really. We have to go to school for the graduation practices, which I think is a waste of time. I've read a pile of books that's in a high school setting, and they never mentioned once that they have to rehearse for it. It's a special special special day. You don't practice something on your special day, don't you? I don't practice stuffs on my birthday, and I know a lot of people who doesn't, too.
Fairly stupid.
Anyways, the rally that's going on right now seems to be tasty. I knew I should've joined.
Sort of.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Biggie and Father Love
This day is the weirdest one I ever had. Of course, that day (or afternoon, specifically) when I walked a mile or so because of this stupid problem I have still tops the list, but this has got to be something of significance.
I was a bit excited last night, for some politically-connected reasons. I know this is a quasi-neutral and conceited blog, because I blab about nothing except for my daily ramblings, by which of course no one gives a damn about. But as you probably know, the country's political condition as of the present has gone to its critical point. A lot of controversies are popping out here and there, but the truth seems to be hiding somewhere only they know. It's kinda unfair and unruly, don't you think? I mean, I don't usually give a fuck on the latest scoop they got about Lozada's statements, or the latest evidences political advocates keep showing off during those special senate hearings. You know how apathetic I am.
But now, I think I have to give apathy a break.
I went to school this morning half-asleep and half-curious about..well..nothing interesting, really. Just about CBCP or the Catholic Bishops' Conference of the Philippines' pastoral statement the media are trying to get hold of since last night. I was not thinking of our final examinations on Math and Mandarin (damn her), but I was, on the other hand, wondering so much if CBCP decided to join the mob of Filipinos who knew better than to shut up albeit the weird things appearing on news every night. That'll be so cool, I thought. Reminds me of that 20-something year old yellowish video of what happened during the first People Power Revolution, during Ferdinand Marcos' remarkable regime. Nuns praying, a humongous throng with people holding hands and shouting, countless soldiers guarding their places with their shotguns and tanks, helicopters soaring and trying to scare people with their weapons..woah, isn't it? That kind of thing sends me thrills enough to overpass that thrill I get from riding roller coasters.
During our examinations for Mandarin, my adviser suddenly boomed the room with her voice as she opened the door hastily and quickly explained that the circulars she's about to give is about the rally on Friday. And those who are interested should go to Mr. Macapanpan after the exams.
Interested.
Should.
Go.
Rally on Friday, huh? Then that actually means that CBCP agreed..or what?
Well, by the time I got hold of my circular, I stared at the words my eyes first caught hold of : we are not calling for the President's resignation but for the TRUTH. Um, isn't that a bit..wrong? So, yeah. You can just imagine everyone's surprise because this is seriously a first in along time.
I quickly looked at the date just to make sure the pastoral statement I'm hungry for didn't affect any of this. February 26, 2008, it said.
And so, by the time I threw my backpack to my bed and went straight to my computer after school, I quickly browsed for the latest news article about what I'm waiting -and hoping- for, which is the pastoral statement of CBCP. I kept my fingers crossed since last night, hoping they would be more serious about everything and thus agree that the citizens of this country should not only fight for the truth, but for a new and responsible leader as well. Ha. I'm fucking sorry for being such an activist for a while, but my family hates the current leader like hell.
To my disappointment, the pastoral statement simply stated just about everything in the circular. How could they be so unbelievably apathetic? Knowing the TRUTH will only lead us all into wanting her to resign in the end. The TRUTH they're saying is obviously right before our eyes. The government's actions merely disgust us, so why keep it that way?
I wish I can go to that rally on Friday. I just need to.
Badly.
------------------------
Ha. And here's another reason why this day had been so weird.
(This will be long. So if you don't want to read, then scram)
On Wed, Feb 27, 2008 at 9:08 PM, Paragas Ronnie wrote:
Sometimes I think my dad alone can change the world. Well, sort of. I should be with him, really. And together, we will be in harmony.
I was a bit excited last night, for some politically-connected reasons. I know this is a quasi-neutral and conceited blog, because I blab about nothing except for my daily ramblings, by which of course no one gives a damn about. But as you probably know, the country's political condition as of the present has gone to its critical point. A lot of controversies are popping out here and there, but the truth seems to be hiding somewhere only they know. It's kinda unfair and unruly, don't you think? I mean, I don't usually give a fuck on the latest scoop they got about Lozada's statements, or the latest evidences political advocates keep showing off during those special senate hearings. You know how apathetic I am.
But now, I think I have to give apathy a break.
I went to school this morning half-asleep and half-curious about..well..nothing interesting, really. Just about CBCP or the Catholic Bishops' Conference of the Philippines' pastoral statement the media are trying to get hold of since last night. I was not thinking of our final examinations on Math and Mandarin (damn her), but I was, on the other hand, wondering so much if CBCP decided to join the mob of Filipinos who knew better than to shut up albeit the weird things appearing on news every night. That'll be so cool, I thought. Reminds me of that 20-something year old yellowish video of what happened during the first People Power Revolution, during Ferdinand Marcos' remarkable regime. Nuns praying, a humongous throng with people holding hands and shouting, countless soldiers guarding their places with their shotguns and tanks, helicopters soaring and trying to scare people with their weapons..woah, isn't it? That kind of thing sends me thrills enough to overpass that thrill I get from riding roller coasters.
During our examinations for Mandarin, my adviser suddenly boomed the room with her voice as she opened the door hastily and quickly explained that the circulars she's about to give is about the rally on Friday. And those who are interested should go to Mr. Macapanpan after the exams.
Interested.
Should.
Go.
Rally on Friday, huh? Then that actually means that CBCP agreed..or what?
Well, by the time I got hold of my circular, I stared at the words my eyes first caught hold of : we are not calling for the President's resignation but for the TRUTH. Um, isn't that a bit..wrong? So, yeah. You can just imagine everyone's surprise because this is seriously a first in along time.
I quickly looked at the date just to make sure the pastoral statement I'm hungry for didn't affect any of this. February 26, 2008, it said.
And so, by the time I threw my backpack to my bed and went straight to my computer after school, I quickly browsed for the latest news article about what I'm waiting -and hoping- for, which is the pastoral statement of CBCP. I kept my fingers crossed since last night, hoping they would be more serious about everything and thus agree that the citizens of this country should not only fight for the truth, but for a new and responsible leader as well. Ha. I'm fucking sorry for being such an activist for a while, but my family hates the current leader like hell.
To my disappointment, the pastoral statement simply stated just about everything in the circular. How could they be so unbelievably apathetic? Knowing the TRUTH will only lead us all into wanting her to resign in the end. The TRUTH they're saying is obviously right before our eyes. The government's actions merely disgust us, so why keep it that way?
I wish I can go to that rally on Friday. I just need to.
Badly.
------------------------
Ha. And here's another reason why this day had been so weird.
(This will be long. So if you don't want to read, then scram)
| hide details 8:26 PM (2 hours ago) |
| |||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Hey..um..dad.
It's actually my final examination for English and Physics tomorrow, but I'm not really in the mood to study. And besides, with less than a month to go before I fly off to college, slacking off has been ridiculously and inevitably compulsory these days. It's not my fault I'll be exiting high school.
Anyways, I have a weird (more like insanely absurd) confession/theory/hypothesis to blurt out. I'm sorry if I have to disturb your hardworking ass, but this is of (somewhat) a major issue.
Um. I think mom is smoking.
Sorry if this whole nonsense of an email may seem to be, indeed, nonsense to you (it's probably either this sh*t's written in English, my grammatical skills are lower than that of an illiterate, or this issue is relatively out of hand.). But I cannot, for the love of God, think of another better person to babble this with other than my own father and (sigh) my pseudo-hero. I think you understand me better than everyone around me does, which is part-ironic, if you ask me.
BUT YOU HAVE TO PROMISE THAT THIS THINGY IS JUST BETWEEN US, ALRIGHTY? If I hear a word from mom about this, you better look for a replacement for your stupendous daughter.
Here goes my 'evidences' to support my theory:
-Tita Baby, mom's chain-smoking friend, came by this morning to drop something off (or so I think she did). Then suddenly, mom took this Marlboro Lights 20s (Gold) out of her bag and handed it to Tita Baby, asking if they (take note: THEY) need more (or something like that).
-"Natikman ko na yan..medyo matamis" she said suddenly while approaching her friend who's at that nifty sala set you bought a few years ago, and while holding the Marlboro pack. They roared with laughter and mom ended it with.."Napuno ko nga yung ash tray eh".
-"Nakaka-ilan ka per day? Isang kaha?" she asked Tita Baby. Of course I know what the fuck a kaha is. I'll tell you later why.
I am not saying all of this to you to confront mom. I mean, you guys are technically separated anyway, albeit the non-existence of legal documents to thus prove it. It wouldn't really matter if you get mad at her or whatever. I'm just concerned because DUH. She just gave birth 5 friggin months ago, and here she pops out suddenly with a death stick. There are 5 children here, and 4 of which could die because of secondhand smoking. She's giving me yet another reason to leave the premises of this house your money built.
And yeah, I did smoke. For how many days? Four. Four rebellion and hatred-filled days because I have so many problems bombarding me all at the same time. Nobody forced me to smoke. I tried it on my own, because my curiosity is killing me like hell. I can't concentrate at school because the thought of smoking a cigarette would always appear every now and then. I did this because my stupid best friend just [EDIT]. And truly, I was mad as hell. It was the last thing I needed to happen, really. But all things fell into place and I've been carbon monoxide-free for almost a week. I then realized that smoking will never be my thing, and so does doing drugs or whatnot.
But now, I cannot believe my own mom is killing herself slowly with smoking. I'm no advocate, dad. I'm just utterly concerned of my own mother's health. I just want to confront her myself, but that would be very disrespectful. She's still my mom, if you look at it.
I don't know what will I do if this is all true.
It's actually my final examination for English and Physics tomorrow, but I'm not really in the mood to study. And besides, with less than a month to go before I fly off to college, slacking off has been ridiculously and inevitably compulsory these days. It's not my fault I'll be exiting high school.
Anyways, I have a weird (more like insanely absurd) confession/theory/hypothesis to blurt out. I'm sorry if I have to disturb your hardworking ass, but this is of (somewhat) a major issue.
Um. I think mom is smoking.
Sorry if this whole nonsense of an email may seem to be, indeed, nonsense to you (it's probably either this sh*t's written in English, my grammatical skills are lower than that of an illiterate, or this issue is relatively out of hand.). But I cannot, for the love of God, think of another better person to babble this with other than my own father and (sigh) my pseudo-hero. I think you understand me better than everyone around me does, which is part-ironic, if you ask me.
BUT YOU HAVE TO PROMISE THAT THIS THINGY IS JUST BETWEEN US, ALRIGHTY? If I hear a word from mom about this, you better look for a replacement for your stupendous daughter.
Here goes my 'evidences' to support my theory:
-Tita Baby, mom's chain-smoking friend, came by this morning to drop something off (or so I think she did). Then suddenly, mom took this Marlboro Lights 20s (Gold) out of her bag and handed it to Tita Baby, asking if they (take note: THEY) need more (or something like that).
-"Natikman ko na yan..medyo matamis" she said suddenly while approaching her friend who's at that nifty sala set you bought a few years ago, and while holding the Marlboro pack. They roared with laughter and mom ended it with.."Napuno ko nga yung ash tray eh".
-"Nakaka-ilan ka per day? Isang kaha?" she asked Tita Baby. Of course I know what the fuck a kaha is. I'll tell you later why.
I am not saying all of this to you to confront mom. I mean, you guys are technically separated anyway, albeit the non-existence of legal documents to thus prove it. It wouldn't really matter if you get mad at her or whatever. I'm just concerned because DUH. She just gave birth 5 friggin months ago, and here she pops out suddenly with a death stick. There are 5 children here, and 4 of which could die because of secondhand smoking. She's giving me yet another reason to leave the premises of this house your money built.
And yeah, I did smoke. For how many days? Four. Four rebellion and hatred-filled days because I have so many problems bombarding me all at the same time. Nobody forced me to smoke. I tried it on my own, because my curiosity is killing me like hell. I can't concentrate at school because the thought of smoking a cigarette would always appear every now and then. I did this because my stupid best friend just [EDIT]. And truly, I was mad as hell. It was the last thing I needed to happen, really. But all things fell into place and I've been carbon monoxide-free for almost a week. I then realized that smoking will never be my thing, and so does doing drugs or whatnot.
But now, I cannot believe my own mom is killing herself slowly with smoking. I'm no advocate, dad. I'm just utterly concerned of my own mother's health. I just want to confront her myself, but that would be very disrespectful. She's still my mom, if you look at it.
I don't know what will I do if this is all true.
On Wed, Feb 27, 2008 at 9:08 PM, Paragas Ronnie wrote:
Before anything else, I just want to tell you that I'm really impresed with your english writing skills. Are you sure you don't want to get journalism or mass comm in college? j/k lang syempre, I know you had already decided to be a techie. :)
I now feel shy to communicate with you in english. Compared to yours, I feel like a provinciano :)
OK, let's get back to the issue. Thanks for telling me this and of course, I promise that I'l keep this thing just between the two of us. Of course you know that the only reason I still have contact with your mom is only because of you and your brothers and sister.
Smoking? I also tried it before. Not as short as 4 days like you but maybe for 6 months. I smoked occasionally kapag medyo naparami ng kain at toma. Then I stopped when the doctor told me that I'm having high blood pressure. IIs only then I realized that smoking doesn't do anything good. Its not only waste of money but it was also bad for your own and other people's health.
Let's just hope that your mom is just in the 'trying out' stage and soon realize that it will not do her any good. Let's give her a couple of weeks. If she doesn't stop, let's say in a month, then I'll try to find a way to make her realize that she is risking everybody's health.
o cya, relax and try to prepare for your finals. don't let this issue affect you, for now...
Sometimes I think my dad alone can change the world. Well, sort of. I should be with him, really. And together, we will be in harmony.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Unschmitled
Alright. Happy day's over. Nyanyanya.
Actually, the week after all of us had successfully defended our respective theses is considered the happy week. Minus of course the quizzes and other things that made us jittery. And that Physics period where all of my classmates were forced to absorb countless complex solutions that were a gazillion times harder to understand than the quiz we had the next day. Reminds me of my first swimming competition, which I will not reminisce further (because I've been mentioning it a lot).
Seeing my classmates slacking their asses off is like seeing my children graduate in college. It merely makes me sentimental to think that in three weeks' time, I will not be able to see the same people again. The next thing I'll know, they'll be all different persons that I fear I will not be able to talk/laugh with anymore.
Oh, right. This is so not the time to be sentimental.
Well, duh.
I have two more things to do before I can truly say that I'm free, namely:
- Damn Economics Project
- FINAL FINAL thesis.
See? I mean, that's the shortest to-do list I've ever made. Why can't they just cancel out these two and let us, oh I don't know, breathe? It's really difficult to study for the finals when the aforementioned projects are occupying your mind.
Like I have any options anyway.
----------------
You want a fresh topic? I'll give you one.
Friends I Can't Wait To Meet.
Now I'm not talking about this one because I was in this feud with a friend or I can't wait for college or I'm not contented with my present friends (they're like, the best already.). It's just that I ran out of topic in mind to bother anyone reading my filth.
1. The Druggie - I've always wanted to interview anyone who is under the influence of angel dust or whatnot. That's relatively fun, because they will not, for the love of God, give you straight answers. And they're always excused for being so stupid, of course. I can always blame him/her why I wasn't able to do my homework when my mother would ask. I guess I just have to say the old excuse with the right infringement. "My druggie friend ate my homework"
2. The Nerd - Nah, I'm not really emphasizing them infamous high school stereotypes. I mean, I like nerds. Everyone does, isn't it? People just start to dislike them when they exaggerate their nerdness to much, like dressing themselves with the latest suspenders, clipped with the shortest short that apparently makes their crotches a bit bulky. And yeah, don't forget the 'ol eyeglasses with that. It's just a sad fact that everyone wants to be a damn nerd. Too bad they genuinely can't.
3. The Writer - And no, I'm not gonna use him/her for my term papers or whatsoever. Actually, I have short list of writers/bloggers I so want to be friends with:
-Jessica Zafra
-Geekologie/The Superficial Editor
-Jet Trogo
-Coldman (see Anukayayun link)
-Marcus Rex II
-Cyberpunk (it's too bad I can't seem to access her blog nowadays.)
4. The Techie - Having a friend who has insanely the same interests as mine is, by far, the only thing in my socializing homework right now. You can imagine my happiness when he/she would purchase a spankin' new gadget, because that would perfectly trigger my competitiveness. And besides, I want to see how arrogant I can get in him/her. That would be so fucking fun.
5. The Repairist/Repairer What The Hell It's Called The Repair Person - Need I say more? You can get your broken things to be repaired for FREE. Sweet, huh? By then, I can finally smash up stuffs without me worrying about expired warranties or even the police, for that matter. Repair persons are usually big and huffy and scary and phlegmatic, so I need not to deal with the authorities.
-------------------
Reading overly-sappy books kinda suck. I feel more than obliged to make myself feel good by forcing stupid butterflies to stay in my stomach and fly all day long. What's worse is that this usually occurs in the morning, as probably a starter for the rough day filled with projects and papers.
More specifically this morning.
I was awake at 6AM, but being the stubborn pig that I really am, I stayed in bed till 8AM. Pathetic, right? I mean, for two fucking hours, I just daydreamed about me finally shedding a gargantuan amount of fat. And not just the losing-some-weight thingy. I also daydreamed about dressing myself quite formally, then going to the graduation ball..
What the fuck.
I know, I know. I'll stop reading books from the Twilight saga. Just so you know (and as if anyone really cares enough to have the guts to listen to this) I'm already on the third installment, which is Eclipse. I'll stop when the last book, which is Midnight Sun, would be out already. Well, duh.
I don't know why I'm feeling the need to regain my endorphines by reading excessively sappy books and eating a pile of chocolates. I'm not problematic, at the very least. As of this writing, I really don't have any problems in mind.
I told you I'm a damn psychopath
(I am not a fucking hopeless romantic. Don't ever ever bring that up.)
Actually, the week after all of us had successfully defended our respective theses is considered the happy week. Minus of course the quizzes and other things that made us jittery. And that Physics period where all of my classmates were forced to absorb countless complex solutions that were a gazillion times harder to understand than the quiz we had the next day. Reminds me of my first swimming competition, which I will not reminisce further (because I've been mentioning it a lot).
Seeing my classmates slacking their asses off is like seeing my children graduate in college. It merely makes me sentimental to think that in three weeks' time, I will not be able to see the same people again. The next thing I'll know, they'll be all different persons that I fear I will not be able to talk/laugh with anymore.
Oh, right. This is so not the time to be sentimental.
Well, duh.
I have two more things to do before I can truly say that I'm free, namely:
- Damn Economics Project
- FINAL FINAL thesis.
See? I mean, that's the shortest to-do list I've ever made. Why can't they just cancel out these two and let us, oh I don't know, breathe? It's really difficult to study for the finals when the aforementioned projects are occupying your mind.
Like I have any options anyway.
----------------
You want a fresh topic? I'll give you one.
Friends I Can't Wait To Meet.
Now I'm not talking about this one because I was in this feud with a friend or I can't wait for college or I'm not contented with my present friends (they're like, the best already.). It's just that I ran out of topic in mind to bother anyone reading my filth.
1. The Druggie - I've always wanted to interview anyone who is under the influence of angel dust or whatnot. That's relatively fun, because they will not, for the love of God, give you straight answers. And they're always excused for being so stupid, of course. I can always blame him/her why I wasn't able to do my homework when my mother would ask. I guess I just have to say the old excuse with the right infringement. "My druggie friend ate my homework"
2. The Nerd - Nah, I'm not really emphasizing them infamous high school stereotypes. I mean, I like nerds. Everyone does, isn't it? People just start to dislike them when they exaggerate their nerdness to much, like dressing themselves with the latest suspenders, clipped with the shortest short that apparently makes their crotches a bit bulky. And yeah, don't forget the 'ol eyeglasses with that. It's just a sad fact that everyone wants to be a damn nerd. Too bad they genuinely can't.
3. The Writer - And no, I'm not gonna use him/her for my term papers or whatsoever. Actually, I have short list of writers/bloggers I so want to be friends with:
-Jessica Zafra
-Geekologie/The Superficial Editor
-Jet Trogo
-Coldman (see Anukayayun link)
-Marcus Rex II
-Cyberpunk (it's too bad I can't seem to access her blog nowadays.)
4. The Techie - Having a friend who has insanely the same interests as mine is, by far, the only thing in my socializing homework right now. You can imagine my happiness when he/she would purchase a spankin' new gadget, because that would perfectly trigger my competitiveness. And besides, I want to see how arrogant I can get in him/her. That would be so fucking fun.
5. The Repairist/Repairer What The Hell It's Called The Repair Person - Need I say more? You can get your broken things to be repaired for FREE. Sweet, huh? By then, I can finally smash up stuffs without me worrying about expired warranties or even the police, for that matter. Repair persons are usually big and huffy and scary and phlegmatic, so I need not to deal with the authorities.
-------------------
Reading overly-sappy books kinda suck. I feel more than obliged to make myself feel good by forcing stupid butterflies to stay in my stomach and fly all day long. What's worse is that this usually occurs in the morning, as probably a starter for the rough day filled with projects and papers.
More specifically this morning.
I was awake at 6AM, but being the stubborn pig that I really am, I stayed in bed till 8AM. Pathetic, right? I mean, for two fucking hours, I just daydreamed about me finally shedding a gargantuan amount of fat. And not just the losing-some-weight thingy. I also daydreamed about dressing myself quite formally, then going to the graduation ball..
What the fuck.
I know, I know. I'll stop reading books from the Twilight saga. Just so you know (and as if anyone really cares enough to have the guts to listen to this) I'm already on the third installment, which is Eclipse. I'll stop when the last book, which is Midnight Sun, would be out already. Well, duh.
I don't know why I'm feeling the need to regain my endorphines by reading excessively sappy books and eating a pile of chocolates. I'm not problematic, at the very least. As of this writing, I really don't have any problems in mind.
I told you I'm a damn psychopath
(I am not a fucking hopeless romantic. Don't ever ever bring that up.)
Friday, February 22, 2008
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Not Quite
It's been kinda a while since the last time I bored my imaginary readers with my literary manure, which is quite evident in my posts. I mean, hello. I'm so damn conceited I can't even write something so superlatively good I for one can even gape at.
Anyways, there were nonetheless few things that appeared and paved their way to significance since I last updated this shit with my misanthropic life. There has been serial killers, friends who turned out to be more deceitful than Judas Escariot, and mobile phones that can be a bit insulting to fat persons.
First off, that stupid serial killer. There has been reports that there's this psycho killer who lurks at our village. Hence his title, he kills people, most especially girls. Rumor has it that he used to be a soldier, and he saw his wife and child being raped right before his eyes. Very cliched, isn't it? Well yeah. That obviously triggered his need to rape women and stab them to death afterwards.
Am I scared? Yeah well..kind of. Sorry for those people who adores my apathy, but this is a serious issue that needs to be frightened of. But as of this writing, the serial killer issue is slowly dying and people are actually claiming that this killer does not exist. Screw you all. I remember this one time at school when a single rumor about an inspection (in our school, an inspection is the last thing you want to happen.) would tense every student body. Since Charlene and I found the sight of people rushing to their respective lockers to hide their prohibited gadgets and whatnot excessively hilarious, we decided to spread the same rumor on a seemingly bright and inspection-less day. Of course nobody believed us. I mean, we were laughing our asses of while proclaiming the rumor and nobody really does take us seriously.
---------------
Friends betray you in more ways than one. They may betray you in a very Judas-and-Jesus way. They may betray you by backstabbing you. And the most peculiar yet extremely veracious way (based from experience), they may also restrict you from doing bad things..yet it will be so fucking hypocritic on their part because they're doing something that's also bad (and even worse, in my case) themselves.
I don't know why God is making it so hard for me to find real friends. Maybe it's his way to let me find the real remorse for those agnostic doings of mine. Well God, if ever you're reading this, I am so not an agnostic. I'm just questioning your existence because some physicist from CERN claims that you're just a universal force that's binding us all. You know I have a thing for physicists.
I have three emo-ish theories:
1. Maybe real friends do not exist. And by real, I mean friends who will never ever ever leave you. Of course, change is inevitable; but change isn't that powerful to banish away some people who care so much for you. That's the reason why some of us resort to imaginary friends. And/or turn into psycho killers
2. Good friends are so hard to find.
Yet it's harder to leave them. This one's very applicable if you really do have a good friend. The latter part can be excluded when you're as bitter as me.
3. Friends? What the hell are friends?
I thought I have a friend in you, *insert her name here*.
Turns out I was wrong. Or merely wronged.
But then again, I don't care.
I don't know why I'm still hoping that someone will be able to regain your old self. Maybe it's because of this stupid belief I still have in mind that you're my best friend, and best friends do not, in any other fucking way you may think of, treat each other this way. See, our last year in high school is supposed to be...I don't know..our 'bonding year'. But seeing that you chose to spend it with this someone I feel very convulsed with, I think it's best that we just go our own damn ways.
Sorry for being so selfish. I promise you that this will be the last time I'll bother you with my unconcerning thoughts. Thank you, ergo, for making me realize that imaginary friends are better than the real ones. They don't act so apathetically..
and neither do they betray.
Reconciling with you is the last thing I want to do. When you make a big mark on a piece of paper, there's just no way that you'd want to use the paper again. Maybe time will heal this wound in our friendship our other relationships with people have made, but time will also make us realize that there's more to life than moping and whining about what's happening to this friendship we've worked so hard on to cultivate. Thereafter, we will find new friends in college that will hopefully make us realize how stupid we really are. And maybe later on, it will all just be blamed to imbecility. Or not, because you're the smartest piece of ass I know.
Maybe we've spend too much time on each other. So yeah, this is more like of a sign that we should say goodbye. But I'm not saying goodbye, nor I am pressuring you to do so. Just take it from Barry Manilow's melancholic hits or something.
I just wish that I'll never experience this again. Losing a dear friend you've grown to love through high school is as excruciating as losing a family member.
Puff. Puff. Puff.
Thank you to the following people who are passively making me not think about this friendship thingamajig too much:
-Rachell Gozalez (for trying to outsmart my wrestling skills. You failed, you noob you)
-Jacque Topacio (for smelling like shit. No, really. Your scent from hell made my day)
-Juela Sanchez (PARE!)
-Patti Dela Concepcion (for disturbing me with your face and hairstyle. Nah, I'm just joking. It's really because of your friggin pimple that's freaking me out)
-Denise Santillan (pepang pepang pare. You give very witty advices, and I'm thankful for it.)
-Alex Castro (you know what happened 2 weeks ago at the swimming pool area. Emo/thesis talk, BEBE. Sampalin kita dyan!)
-Jessa Dasas (for nonetheless being a true homo. It's a wonder how you got in an all-girls' school)
-Nina Meily (for ALWAYS coping with my bipolarity. And being with me all the time.)
-Charlene Liwanag (for being my confidant and true friend through all of this.)
-my frontmates, Chelly Moseros, Janine New, and Jan Miguel (for..I dunno. You guys make me happy for no apparent reason. Maybe your hairs are funny. Or your back, because that's what I would frequently see unless you turn your backs around see the ugliness behind you)
----------------
Oh hello there, iPhone.
Pictures will be posted when my Canon 40D finally arrives.
:) (eew)
And by the way, this is my 200th post.
Anyways, there were nonetheless few things that appeared and paved their way to significance since I last updated this shit with my misanthropic life. There has been serial killers, friends who turned out to be more deceitful than Judas Escariot, and mobile phones that can be a bit insulting to fat persons.
First off, that stupid serial killer. There has been reports that there's this psycho killer who lurks at our village. Hence his title, he kills people, most especially girls. Rumor has it that he used to be a soldier, and he saw his wife and child being raped right before his eyes. Very cliched, isn't it? Well yeah. That obviously triggered his need to rape women and stab them to death afterwards.
Am I scared? Yeah well..kind of. Sorry for those people who adores my apathy, but this is a serious issue that needs to be frightened of. But as of this writing, the serial killer issue is slowly dying and people are actually claiming that this killer does not exist. Screw you all. I remember this one time at school when a single rumor about an inspection (in our school, an inspection is the last thing you want to happen.) would tense every student body. Since Charlene and I found the sight of people rushing to their respective lockers to hide their prohibited gadgets and whatnot excessively hilarious, we decided to spread the same rumor on a seemingly bright and inspection-less day. Of course nobody believed us. I mean, we were laughing our asses of while proclaiming the rumor and nobody really does take us seriously.
---------------
Friends betray you in more ways than one. They may betray you in a very Judas-and-Jesus way. They may betray you by backstabbing you. And the most peculiar yet extremely veracious way (based from experience), they may also restrict you from doing bad things..yet it will be so fucking hypocritic on their part because they're doing something that's also bad (and even worse, in my case) themselves.
I don't know why God is making it so hard for me to find real friends. Maybe it's his way to let me find the real remorse for those agnostic doings of mine. Well God, if ever you're reading this, I am so not an agnostic. I'm just questioning your existence because some physicist from CERN claims that you're just a universal force that's binding us all. You know I have a thing for physicists.
I have three emo-ish theories:
1. Maybe real friends do not exist. And by real, I mean friends who will never ever ever leave you. Of course, change is inevitable; but change isn't that powerful to banish away some people who care so much for you. That's the reason why some of us resort to imaginary friends. And/or turn into psycho killers
2. Good friends are so hard to find.
Yet it's harder to leave them. This one's very applicable if you really do have a good friend. The latter part can be excluded when you're as bitter as me.
3. Friends? What the hell are friends?
I thought I have a friend in you, *insert her name here*.
Turns out I was wrong. Or merely wronged.
But then again, I don't care.
I don't know why I'm still hoping that someone will be able to regain your old self. Maybe it's because of this stupid belief I still have in mind that you're my best friend, and best friends do not, in any other fucking way you may think of, treat each other this way. See, our last year in high school is supposed to be...I don't know..our 'bonding year'. But seeing that you chose to spend it with this someone I feel very convulsed with, I think it's best that we just go our own damn ways.
Sorry for being so selfish. I promise you that this will be the last time I'll bother you with my unconcerning thoughts. Thank you, ergo, for making me realize that imaginary friends are better than the real ones. They don't act so apathetically..
and neither do they betray.
Reconciling with you is the last thing I want to do. When you make a big mark on a piece of paper, there's just no way that you'd want to use the paper again. Maybe time will heal this wound in our friendship our other relationships with people have made, but time will also make us realize that there's more to life than moping and whining about what's happening to this friendship we've worked so hard on to cultivate. Thereafter, we will find new friends in college that will hopefully make us realize how stupid we really are. And maybe later on, it will all just be blamed to imbecility. Or not, because you're the smartest piece of ass I know.
Maybe we've spend too much time on each other. So yeah, this is more like of a sign that we should say goodbye. But I'm not saying goodbye, nor I am pressuring you to do so. Just take it from Barry Manilow's melancholic hits or something.
I just wish that I'll never experience this again. Losing a dear friend you've grown to love through high school is as excruciating as losing a family member.
Puff. Puff. Puff.
Thank you to the following people who are passively making me not think about this friendship thingamajig too much:
-Rachell Gozalez (for trying to outsmart my wrestling skills. You failed, you noob you)
-Jacque Topacio (for smelling like shit. No, really. Your scent from hell made my day)
-Juela Sanchez (PARE!)
-Patti Dela Concepcion (for disturbing me with your face and hairstyle. Nah, I'm just joking. It's really because of your friggin pimple that's freaking me out)
-Denise Santillan (pepang pepang pare. You give very witty advices, and I'm thankful for it.)
-Alex Castro (you know what happened 2 weeks ago at the swimming pool area. Emo/thesis talk, BEBE. Sampalin kita dyan!)
-Jessa Dasas (for nonetheless being a true homo. It's a wonder how you got in an all-girls' school)
-Nina Meily (for ALWAYS coping with my bipolarity. And being with me all the time.)
-Charlene Liwanag (for being my confidant and true friend through all of this.)
-my frontmates, Chelly Moseros, Janine New, and Jan Miguel (for..I dunno. You guys make me happy for no apparent reason. Maybe your hairs are funny. Or your back, because that's what I would frequently see unless you turn your backs around see the ugliness behind you)
----------------
Oh hello there, iPhone.
Pictures will be posted when my Canon 40D finally arrives.
:) (eew)
And by the way, this is my 200th post.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Valentine's Day My Ass
Word, ain't it?
Anyways, it's probably too late to make a nonsensical entry about how sucky and absurd Valentine's day really is. I mean, if you come to think of it, Valentine's day really serves no purpose in this God-forsaken life of ours, aside from the fact that it depresses unattached people a lot. And by a lot, I mean a truckload of sadness is thus present - among single bastards and bitches, that is.
I skipped school today because of this BS migraine that's been killing my head (and consequently, my whole fatass system) all week long. This started last Sunday, by which I cannot remember how the hell it emerged, and what in the name of Satan triggered it to happen. All what matters is how my head really really really hurts today, and that my schizophrenia is on its peak.
So, to celebrate the notorious SAD yesterday, I ran stupid errands for my siblings. And besides buying colored candles and foil papers, I also went by Powerbooks to check out some new bestsellers because seriously, there's a shortage of good books at our household. There's the last installment of Harry Potter just under my sister's bed, and there's the my Sophie Kinsella collection, which dates back when I was still in sixth grade, and there's Jane Austen and Jodi Picoult. But damn, I don't really want to read things I've read already.
Non-conformity, please forgive me. I just bought a book that is absurdly famous.
TWILIGHT.
What the hell, right? I mean, screw rules. It's valentine's day anyway. Like anyone would really give a damn if I read something so incoherently sappy. And really, Twilight's actually good. I've already read about three-fourths of the weird book, and so far so....surpassingly stupendous. Edward Cullen's probably the most gorgeous male protagonist I've read about, and him being all vampire-y is the sexiest thing ever. I also like the idea of Edward liking a very normal girl like Belle.
Well, enough of this. I have to finish the damn book before the weekend hits. I don't want to catch up with the emotional fever the series have brought in our high school.
-------------------
Confiding what I've done a while ago is not really defeating the purpose of a blog, ain't it?
I smoked a damn death stick.
You've read that right. It's not some fantasy or dream that's been obviously recurring for the past few weeks. The reason why I probably did this is because of extreme curiosity. And I'm talking about reaaaal curiosity, because it hindered me from having normal dreams. Every single night since this started, I would always envision myself holding a cigarette, thereafter smoke it.
And I know that there's just one solution to it, which is of course doing the deed itself.
So yeah. Here are my utmost observations:
1. Smoking is not really addicting or whatever.
2. On the contrary, it's really boring, actually. It's like I'm just puffing from my inhaler, then exhaling the precious medicine out.
3. Its odor spreads like hell. Okay, so maybe smoking in the vicinity of your own room is a bad idea, but there isn't really any space in our house where you can smoke casually. I almost used up all of my sister's perfume just to make the damn smell go away.
That'll be the last time I'll smoke. Promise.
Or not..
Anyways, it's probably too late to make a nonsensical entry about how sucky and absurd Valentine's day really is. I mean, if you come to think of it, Valentine's day really serves no purpose in this God-forsaken life of ours, aside from the fact that it depresses unattached people a lot. And by a lot, I mean a truckload of sadness is thus present - among single bastards and bitches, that is.
I skipped school today because of this BS migraine that's been killing my head (and consequently, my whole fatass system) all week long. This started last Sunday, by which I cannot remember how the hell it emerged, and what in the name of Satan triggered it to happen. All what matters is how my head really really really hurts today, and that my schizophrenia is on its peak.
So, to celebrate the notorious SAD yesterday, I ran stupid errands for my siblings. And besides buying colored candles and foil papers, I also went by Powerbooks to check out some new bestsellers because seriously, there's a shortage of good books at our household. There's the last installment of Harry Potter just under my sister's bed, and there's the my Sophie Kinsella collection, which dates back when I was still in sixth grade, and there's Jane Austen and Jodi Picoult. But damn, I don't really want to read things I've read already.
Non-conformity, please forgive me. I just bought a book that is absurdly famous.
TWILIGHT.
What the hell, right? I mean, screw rules. It's valentine's day anyway. Like anyone would really give a damn if I read something so incoherently sappy. And really, Twilight's actually good. I've already read about three-fourths of the weird book, and so far so....surpassingly stupendous. Edward Cullen's probably the most gorgeous male protagonist I've read about, and him being all vampire-y is the sexiest thing ever. I also like the idea of Edward liking a very normal girl like Belle.
Well, enough of this. I have to finish the damn book before the weekend hits. I don't want to catch up with the emotional fever the series have brought in our high school.
-------------------
Confiding what I've done a while ago is not really defeating the purpose of a blog, ain't it?
I smoked a damn death stick.
You've read that right. It's not some fantasy or dream that's been obviously recurring for the past few weeks. The reason why I probably did this is because of extreme curiosity. And I'm talking about reaaaal curiosity, because it hindered me from having normal dreams. Every single night since this started, I would always envision myself holding a cigarette, thereafter smoke it.
And I know that there's just one solution to it, which is of course doing the deed itself.
So yeah. Here are my utmost observations:
1. Smoking is not really addicting or whatever.
2. On the contrary, it's really boring, actually. It's like I'm just puffing from my inhaler, then exhaling the precious medicine out.
3. Its odor spreads like hell. Okay, so maybe smoking in the vicinity of your own room is a bad idea, but there isn't really any space in our house where you can smoke casually. I almost used up all of my sister's perfume just to make the damn smell go away.
That'll be the last time I'll smoke. Promise.
Or not..
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Outgrowing Harry Potter
I just woke up from a deep slumber. Weird because, you know, I enjoyed the slumber. I think that I'm not even allowed to damn sleep because of the deadlines I have to meet this week. And its kinda cool to sleep late, you know. Dark circles with a minimum circumference of probably 4cm surrounding your eyes and flies accompanying you everywhere you go is definitely the way to go.
With this slumber, I came up with these reasons so as to explain why I slept at the wrong time again:
- I'm unusually lethargic yesterday. Oh screw it, I'm always lethargic. That fact is already unusual on its own.
- Making a powerpoint presentation for yesterday's thesis defense took a lot of time, thus making me sleep late. (This is so not true. I slept at like, 1 AM only.)
- I have to sleep because the world hates me so much, it is urging me to go to the nearest local store and buy cigarettes. (HA. This is very much true - if I'm slashing wrists and wearing black all the time and fixing my hair in a superlatively bizarre way, that is.)
- That sleep serves as our prize for finally putting a damn period to the overly-long sentence the thesis saga have made through the past couple of months of my senior year.
- Harry Potter sucked.
You know what? I actually think that the latter is really the reason why I slept on the wrong time. See, as I can remember, me and my brothers were watching the fifth installment of Harry Potter on dvd last night. And then just suddenly, I felt that my eyes are getting a lot heavier every damn minute because the stupid sandman keeps on pouring his specialty over it. In these cases, I don't really want to blame the poor sandman because, well, it's not really his fault if you look at it.
It's Harry Potter. I so knew it.
Christ, this is the 5th movie I've slept through this week, and the third time I slept in the middle part of a Harry Potter movie. That statement alone would just want to make me ask myself if something's wrong with me. I've been a Harry Potter fan since that faithful day my dad gave me my first Harry Potter book, which is indeed The Sorcerer's Stone. He owed me fifty friggin' pesos and he payed it off by a fucking book. At first I cursed my dad for doing so, because at those early times, I was not used to reading thick books (Well duh. I was only a 3rd grader at that time. I mean, reading Sweet Valley and Nancy Drew and them Hardy Boys is already too much for my age.). And probably because I'm very much in love with money when I was young. But as I forced myself to read the book, I learned to love it, to feel it, and to value it.
But now, it is very much obvious that I'm already outgrowing it. I know this is not much of an issue, because Harry Potter's just a book. Well, I don't know. This is the first book actually that I'm starting to outgrow, Dr. Seuss be so damned.
I hope this is a sign of a maturity. I was never ever able to watch the middle part of the fifth installment.
------------------------------
With this slumber, I came up with these reasons so as to explain why I slept at the wrong time again:
- I'm unusually lethargic yesterday. Oh screw it, I'm always lethargic. That fact is already unusual on its own.
- Making a powerpoint presentation for yesterday's thesis defense took a lot of time, thus making me sleep late. (This is so not true. I slept at like, 1 AM only.)
- I have to sleep because the world hates me so much, it is urging me to go to the nearest local store and buy cigarettes. (HA. This is very much true - if I'm slashing wrists and wearing black all the time and fixing my hair in a superlatively bizarre way, that is.)
- That sleep serves as our prize for finally putting a damn period to the overly-long sentence the thesis saga have made through the past couple of months of my senior year.
- Harry Potter sucked.
You know what? I actually think that the latter is really the reason why I slept on the wrong time. See, as I can remember, me and my brothers were watching the fifth installment of Harry Potter on dvd last night. And then just suddenly, I felt that my eyes are getting a lot heavier every damn minute because the stupid sandman keeps on pouring his specialty over it. In these cases, I don't really want to blame the poor sandman because, well, it's not really his fault if you look at it.
It's Harry Potter. I so knew it.
Christ, this is the 5th movie I've slept through this week, and the third time I slept in the middle part of a Harry Potter movie. That statement alone would just want to make me ask myself if something's wrong with me. I've been a Harry Potter fan since that faithful day my dad gave me my first Harry Potter book, which is indeed The Sorcerer's Stone. He owed me fifty friggin' pesos and he payed it off by a fucking book. At first I cursed my dad for doing so, because at those early times, I was not used to reading thick books (Well duh. I was only a 3rd grader at that time. I mean, reading Sweet Valley and Nancy Drew and them Hardy Boys is already too much for my age.). And probably because I'm very much in love with money when I was young. But as I forced myself to read the book, I learned to love it, to feel it, and to value it.
But now, it is very much obvious that I'm already outgrowing it. I know this is not much of an issue, because Harry Potter's just a book. Well, I don't know. This is the first book actually that I'm starting to outgrow, Dr. Seuss be so damned.
I hope this is a sign of a maturity. I was never ever able to watch the middle part of the fifth installment.
------------------------------
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Thesis Defense. Oh Joy.
Cramming for the powerpoint presentation for our thesis defense never felt so fucking good. As I click that exit icon on the upper right corner of Microsoft Powerpoint, I knew for sure that this will surely be the last time I'll be using the powerpoint for my senior year. Way to go, Lorainne. That's like, a one step for immaturity, and two steps for sentimentality. Just what you need for your thesis defense tomorrow.
The fact that we will be finally defending the fruit of my sleepless nights for a couple of nights is so exhilarating, it hasn't sinked in yet. So what the hell are we actually gonna do tomorrow anyway? I have been researching for videos of high school students being grilled by their panel at their respective thesis defenses, and I haven't been successful since the minute I typed 'high school thesis defense' in that infamous YouTube search bar. Oh just read between the friggin' lines: I don't know what the hell a thesis defense is.
I think it's just some sort of a reporting shit, where you blab and blab and blah blah blah about your damn study. Probably the only difference of this one to the other reportings I've done before is I'm way more classy with the clothes (corporate, duh) this time. And there's probably some extra-grilling, which I think I will not enjoy. I remember this one time during my freshmen year in high school when I actually considered to join the debate club, because I think I'm that good at defending stuffs, apparently because of the pseudo-hoax that I can always find a loophole through any problem.
Well..where the hell is it now?
I just wish that God would remember her prodigal daughter for once, and give back gifts she'd thrown away because she thought she doesn't need any of those. Like that handout about the Fundamental Counting Principle she got from review classes, and that love letter her first love gave to her. Oh screw the latter. I think the dog ate it anyway. And yeah, give her back that debating gift thingy. She apparently needs it tomorrow.
Good Luck to me. And my groups, too. And all the other groups who'll be having their thesis havocs tomorrow.
The drink's on me when all of this will finally end. I betcha.
The fact that we will be finally defending the fruit of my sleepless nights for a couple of nights is so exhilarating, it hasn't sinked in yet. So what the hell are we actually gonna do tomorrow anyway? I have been researching for videos of high school students being grilled by their panel at their respective thesis defenses, and I haven't been successful since the minute I typed 'high school thesis defense' in that infamous YouTube search bar. Oh just read between the friggin' lines: I don't know what the hell a thesis defense is.
I think it's just some sort of a reporting shit, where you blab and blab and blah blah blah about your damn study. Probably the only difference of this one to the other reportings I've done before is I'm way more classy with the clothes (corporate, duh) this time. And there's probably some extra-grilling, which I think I will not enjoy. I remember this one time during my freshmen year in high school when I actually considered to join the debate club, because I think I'm that good at defending stuffs, apparently because of the pseudo-hoax that I can always find a loophole through any problem.
Well..where the hell is it now?
I just wish that God would remember her prodigal daughter for once, and give back gifts she'd thrown away because she thought she doesn't need any of those. Like that handout about the Fundamental Counting Principle she got from review classes, and that love letter her first love gave to her. Oh screw the latter. I think the dog ate it anyway. And yeah, give her back that debating gift thingy. She apparently needs it tomorrow.
Good Luck to me. And my groups, too. And all the other groups who'll be having their thesis havocs tomorrow.
The drink's on me when all of this will finally end. I betcha.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Schizophrenia Madness
Lately I've been letting out my two personalities quite a lot. It starts in the morning, when something as irritating as the thought of our thesis and paperworks would suddenly pop out of somewhere. It would last till my brain finally settles down to an angle where it's comfortable to, then my usual ego would appear. I'm hating it, really.
I would frown and keep quiet for no reason at all when my alter schizoid would take place. I would just nod if one of my seatmates would ask if I'm alright, then I would act all proper and clean my place. After that, I would find everything unusually austere. I don't really know who the hell I truly am when my sterile ego butts in. I am neither the owner of this blog, or a conceited fatass. I am neither Oyen, or some laughing megalomaniac. I am neither someone who lacks social skills, or a bothersome jackass.
I become a nobody.
--------------------
I've finished reading this nifty synopsis of George Orwell's 1984 a while ago. Of all of the mandatory novels I've read for English class, 1984 is exactly the only one that is mind-gripping, and can make you hungry for more action. It may not be as good as Mario Puzo's The Godfather series, or as suspenseful as Dan Brown's Digital Fortress, however, it's so well-written that I want to have a copy of the whole book so badly.
I want to write what's 1984 all about, but that doing so would kill the readers of this trashy blog because of boredom, at the least.
And besides, nobody's that obsessed to a damn novel anyway.
--------------------------
Watching the toilet flush my shit down is probably my realization moment. It makes me wonder how a thing like that of the toilet can eat up a gunk of feces in a snap. As I watch my shit that was being sucked down, I come to think of the availability of an apparatus that can suck gunks of life's craps.
That would be so fucking cool.
I mean, if you come to think of it, life will not suck if it weren't for life's shit. It's a burden why we have to act like huge toilets and suck it all up. It's such a friggin burden too why we have excessively emotional people to drag us all to dread about it (READ: emo kids).
Here is a short list of craps of life I wish some nice toilet invented by a brainiac (make that a MAC brainiac) would suck up:
-backstabbing friends (what an irony)
-former boyfriends/acquaintances (you cannot, for the love of God, build a simple friendship with them without mentioning the miserable past.)
-love (it will never ever make our world go round. damn those powerpuff girls.)
-theses (and the like)
-conceptual subjects
-damn cheaters (in all aspects, that is)
-BILL GATES
I can't ponder enough reasons why these things should exist further.
----------------------------
I would frown and keep quiet for no reason at all when my alter schizoid would take place. I would just nod if one of my seatmates would ask if I'm alright, then I would act all proper and clean my place. After that, I would find everything unusually austere. I don't really know who the hell I truly am when my sterile ego butts in. I am neither the owner of this blog, or a conceited fatass. I am neither Oyen, or some laughing megalomaniac. I am neither someone who lacks social skills, or a bothersome jackass.
I become a nobody.
--------------------
I've finished reading this nifty synopsis of George Orwell's 1984 a while ago. Of all of the mandatory novels I've read for English class, 1984 is exactly the only one that is mind-gripping, and can make you hungry for more action. It may not be as good as Mario Puzo's The Godfather series, or as suspenseful as Dan Brown's Digital Fortress, however, it's so well-written that I want to have a copy of the whole book so badly.
I want to write what's 1984 all about, but that doing so would kill the readers of this trashy blog because of boredom, at the least.
And besides, nobody's that obsessed to a damn novel anyway.
--------------------------
Watching the toilet flush my shit down is probably my realization moment. It makes me wonder how a thing like that of the toilet can eat up a gunk of feces in a snap. As I watch my shit that was being sucked down, I come to think of the availability of an apparatus that can suck gunks of life's craps.
That would be so fucking cool.
I mean, if you come to think of it, life will not suck if it weren't for life's shit. It's a burden why we have to act like huge toilets and suck it all up. It's such a friggin burden too why we have excessively emotional people to drag us all to dread about it (READ: emo kids).
Here is a short list of craps of life I wish some nice toilet invented by a brainiac (make that a MAC brainiac) would suck up:
-backstabbing friends (what an irony)
-former boyfriends/acquaintances (you cannot, for the love of God, build a simple friendship with them without mentioning the miserable past.)
-love (it will never ever make our world go round. damn those powerpuff girls.)
-theses (and the like)
-conceptual subjects
-damn cheaters (in all aspects, that is)
-BILL GATES
I can't ponder enough reasons why these things should exist further.
----------------------------
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
I Just Blogged 5
The moment I woke up yesterday after a precious doze of 2 hours, I promised to myself that I will not, for the love of God, open the computer and get lost in cyberspace again. It's amazing how addicting the internet truly is. Click here, click there, clicking everywhere.
But yeah. Obviously, I like making promises, then go break them in the end. Hypocrite.
Anyways, I skipped the two periods of my class today. Primarily because I'm friggin stressed, and with an hour of sleep (well, if you call it a sleep, that is) each day is not working. It's kinda surprising how I manage to brush my teeth a while ago, really. I've not been my apathy-filled self lately, and God knows its the thesis' fault. It took me an hour to realize yesterday that my bottled water is empty, and what I'm gulping down is not of water, but of my own damn saliva. I told you cramming makes people insane.
I feel kinda guilty for..you know..skipping class. See, I'm not very much used to breaking school rules ever since I was a kid. Not that I have a totalitarian dad imposing strict house rules every now and then (like hello, my dad's not even here to begin with), but getting caught of breaking them rules disturbs me to death. Of all the school rules I've broken, I've only been caught once. I instantly got out of it because of school connections.
Well, what's of all of that to them, right?
So here. Updates on my misanthropic life:
1. I got my report card yesterday. All of them figures zoomed up except for Physics. I lost 1 fucking point because of Mechanics. See, if we had just discussed George Ohm and his lonely life for the third quarter, this will not happen. And yeah, I'm still not gonna get a damn academic award for all of it. The Chinese hag shall be blamed, and be executed right there and then. But unlike my bitter account about all of it during the second quarter, it kinda felt this time that I don't really deserve to never be an academic awardee, probably because of my incessant slacking off.
2. It took me a week to get over my second quarter grades. It took me 10 hours of scrumptious sleep to get over my useless grades. And now, I ergo conclude that a point has been added to my 'Maturity' scoreboard. A minus one of course for the 'Grade Conscious' one.
3. The pseudo-feud between me and my close friend has finally come to an end. On the other hand, it still feels kinda awkward when we're together. Maybe that's the aftermath of a fight or something.
4. My cough is seriously on its peak. I've been barking like a dog since yesterday and little by little, I'm losing my voice. The latter part is evidently a good thing.
So yeah. Nothing out of the ordinary seems to be taking a toll on my life right now. If God ever decides to talk to me and confirm that I am, therefore, a psychotic introvert, I'll tell you right away.
But yeah. Obviously, I like making promises, then go break them in the end. Hypocrite.
Anyways, I skipped the two periods of my class today. Primarily because I'm friggin stressed, and with an hour of sleep (well, if you call it a sleep, that is) each day is not working. It's kinda surprising how I manage to brush my teeth a while ago, really. I've not been my apathy-filled self lately, and God knows its the thesis' fault. It took me an hour to realize yesterday that my bottled water is empty, and what I'm gulping down is not of water, but of my own damn saliva. I told you cramming makes people insane.
I feel kinda guilty for..you know..skipping class. See, I'm not very much used to breaking school rules ever since I was a kid. Not that I have a totalitarian dad imposing strict house rules every now and then (like hello, my dad's not even here to begin with), but getting caught of breaking them rules disturbs me to death. Of all the school rules I've broken, I've only been caught once. I instantly got out of it because of school connections.
Well, what's of all of that to them, right?
So here. Updates on my misanthropic life:
1. I got my report card yesterday. All of them figures zoomed up except for Physics. I lost 1 fucking point because of Mechanics. See, if we had just discussed George Ohm and his lonely life for the third quarter, this will not happen. And yeah, I'm still not gonna get a damn academic award for all of it. The Chinese hag shall be blamed, and be executed right there and then. But unlike my bitter account about all of it during the second quarter, it kinda felt this time that I don't really deserve to never be an academic awardee, probably because of my incessant slacking off.
2. It took me a week to get over my second quarter grades. It took me 10 hours of scrumptious sleep to get over my useless grades. And now, I ergo conclude that a point has been added to my 'Maturity' scoreboard. A minus one of course for the 'Grade Conscious' one.
3. The pseudo-feud between me and my close friend has finally come to an end. On the other hand, it still feels kinda awkward when we're together. Maybe that's the aftermath of a fight or something.
4. My cough is seriously on its peak. I've been barking like a dog since yesterday and little by little, I'm losing my voice. The latter part is evidently a good thing.
So yeah. Nothing out of the ordinary seems to be taking a toll on my life right now. If God ever decides to talk to me and confirm that I am, therefore, a psychotic introvert, I'll tell you right away.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Bronchial What?
Today I proved the fact that you can walk a mile even if you forgot your inhaler in your classroom. You just have to start to loathe a close friend, then clear everything out of your mind. Well at least in my case that's exactly what happened a while ago.
This day is, actually, the most fortunate day of the week. It started out NOT fine (with finding out that we were only able to get 25% of our total population for our thesis, and my disturbing tubercolosis-level cough), but thanks to the 4-percentile margin of error and my Physics teacher's sweet 'yes' to the question that has been crawling around my neck ever since that day I did not pass the ACET(Miss, will you please make me a letter of appeal?), this day can actually be superb in more ways than one.
So yeah, right after last period, I hurried off out of the school to get home quickly. I found the bus, chit-chatted with Ira for quite some time, then figured out that my close friend would probably go down too to leave her things or something. And so, I got off the bus again with - get this - nothing in my mind. Nothing, as in blank, except for this kept hatred hidden in my pituitary glands.
I went down the slope near Brent International School, turned left..and that's probably when I stopped thinking about how much I hate my life right now. The next thing I knew, I was already in front of Tiendesitas, breathing very heavily and hailing 2-3 cabs per minute. I swear I was surprised myself when I saw this huge cemented wall beside me. And this big highway in front of me connecting Pasig and Quezon City. And a lot of cars. And gigantic Optimus Prime-like trucks.
Boy, was I drunk? Did that melon juice entered my adrenal glands again? Jesus.
When a taxi who was kind enough to stop and let me in came, I hurriedly went inside. I can feel my limbs giving up, and my heart exploding. It's like I want to cry so loud, because I cannot understand myself. The stupid driver kept looking at me, which is a bad thing, actually. I cannot let out my dramatic alter ego because of his dumb stares. So yeah, instead of thinking how the hell was I able to cover almost half of c-5 just by walking and how I find the driver ultimately disturbing, I thought of worst case scenarios instead:
-Be caught commuting by a nun
-Be caught commuting by a teacher
-Be caught commuting by a teacher I know
-Be caught commuting by The Boy
-Be caught commuting by that friend I'm trying so hard to run away from
-Be caught commuting by mom
-Be caught commuting by a friend of my mom
-Be caught commuting by a friend
-Be caught commuting by a classmate
-Be caught commuting by the school bus driver
I nervously laughed it off, actually. I mean, these are very unlikely to happen anyway. And when it does, I can always conceal myself using a paper and a rubber band; just tie the paper around with the rubber face, and voila! They won't really know me unless they have x-ray powers or something like that.
Finally, the cab dropped me off in that area where I would usually ride a tricycle that would take me home. I hastily went in, and just when the driver was starting his to move, I saw a very familiar vehicle heading towards the same direction as we were.
Oh my friggin' God.
It's the fucking school bus. How the hell were they able to catch up?
That whole moment where the bus is just beside the tricycle and I was hiding behind my nifty backpack turned out to be very excruciating. Nonetheless, it was one hell of an experience. My heart almost busted out because of excitement. It's like reading an R.L Stine book with that dumb Choose Your Adventure theme; you won't really have a damn idea what will happen next.
And you know what? All of that shit I went through made me realize that I can be so friggin' selfish and insensitive. I cannot defend my own side, because all of those are immaturely non-sequitur. I just made up reasons so as to get mad at somebody who's keeping me stressed for the past few weeks. I've been very disturbed lately and all I can do is let everyone know it.
Even you, bloggy.
So yeah. I'm sorry, but that's just how I am these days. If I'm disappointed, then I'm disappointed. I won't pretend anymore that I'm in favor of how things are going, because that'll be improper.
This day is, actually, the most fortunate day of the week. It started out NOT fine (with finding out that we were only able to get 25% of our total population for our thesis, and my disturbing tubercolosis-level cough), but thanks to the 4-percentile margin of error and my Physics teacher's sweet 'yes' to the question that has been crawling around my neck ever since that day I did not pass the ACET(Miss, will you please make me a letter of appeal?), this day can actually be superb in more ways than one.
So yeah, right after last period, I hurried off out of the school to get home quickly. I found the bus, chit-chatted with Ira for quite some time, then figured out that my close friend would probably go down too to leave her things or something. And so, I got off the bus again with - get this - nothing in my mind. Nothing, as in blank, except for this kept hatred hidden in my pituitary glands.
I went down the slope near Brent International School, turned left..and that's probably when I stopped thinking about how much I hate my life right now. The next thing I knew, I was already in front of Tiendesitas, breathing very heavily and hailing 2-3 cabs per minute. I swear I was surprised myself when I saw this huge cemented wall beside me. And this big highway in front of me connecting Pasig and Quezon City. And a lot of cars. And gigantic Optimus Prime-like trucks.
Boy, was I drunk? Did that melon juice entered my adrenal glands again? Jesus.
When a taxi who was kind enough to stop and let me in came, I hurriedly went inside. I can feel my limbs giving up, and my heart exploding. It's like I want to cry so loud, because I cannot understand myself. The stupid driver kept looking at me, which is a bad thing, actually. I cannot let out my dramatic alter ego because of his dumb stares. So yeah, instead of thinking how the hell was I able to cover almost half of c-5 just by walking and how I find the driver ultimately disturbing, I thought of worst case scenarios instead:
-Be caught commuting by a nun
-Be caught commuting by a teacher
-Be caught commuting by a teacher I know
-Be caught commuting by The Boy
-Be caught commuting by that friend I'm trying so hard to run away from
-Be caught commuting by mom
-Be caught commuting by a friend of my mom
-Be caught commuting by a friend
-Be caught commuting by a classmate
-Be caught commuting by the school bus driver
I nervously laughed it off, actually. I mean, these are very unlikely to happen anyway. And when it does, I can always conceal myself using a paper and a rubber band; just tie the paper around with the rubber face, and voila! They won't really know me unless they have x-ray powers or something like that.
Finally, the cab dropped me off in that area where I would usually ride a tricycle that would take me home. I hastily went in, and just when the driver was starting his to move, I saw a very familiar vehicle heading towards the same direction as we were.
Oh my friggin' God.
It's the fucking school bus. How the hell were they able to catch up?
That whole moment where the bus is just beside the tricycle and I was hiding behind my nifty backpack turned out to be very excruciating. Nonetheless, it was one hell of an experience. My heart almost busted out because of excitement. It's like reading an R.L Stine book with that dumb Choose Your Adventure theme; you won't really have a damn idea what will happen next.
And you know what? All of that shit I went through made me realize that I can be so friggin' selfish and insensitive. I cannot defend my own side, because all of those are immaturely non-sequitur. I just made up reasons so as to get mad at somebody who's keeping me stressed for the past few weeks. I've been very disturbed lately and all I can do is let everyone know it.
Even you, bloggy.
So yeah. I'm sorry, but that's just how I am these days. If I'm disappointed, then I'm disappointed. I won't pretend anymore that I'm in favor of how things are going, because that'll be improper.
Fat and Friends
What is not relatively new is the fact that I am, indeed, a fatass. My thighs are so huge its as big as a normal-sized lady's waistline, which is more or less 25. My arms are so enormous, they're as big as my brother's thighs (my brother is 50kg full of fat, thank you very much.). My belly's bigger than my breasts. I have a very fat pizza-like face.
Now you know how fat I am.
It sucks being fat. It really does. I mean, I can't even blurt out how gargantuan I am in public, for the fear that people might actually agree and thus consequently nod their heads in approval. One time when I was talking to this classmate who was complaining about how fat her thighs are (which is far from true. Her thighs are thin sticks, trust me.), I just suddenly blurted out "Well, uh, if they're actually big, then what exactly is the size of mine?". She looked at my thighs intently for quite a few seconds, then went "You don't hang out with boys anyway.". I told you people would agree.
It sucks being fat. I've never stared in front of mirror without thinking how big I truly am. I've never realized how fat I've gotten until mom had the doors of our cabinet replaced with sliding mirrors, much to my dismay. Everytime I would just stand there and fix my hair, my eyes, would always avert downwards, going to the direction of my thighs, going up to the sides to my arms, then back to my fugly face. When this would occur (which is like, incessantly), I would think of dieting, and/or skipping meals by throwing my wallet and other valuable stuffs out of the window so as to not spend them for food. I would think of exercising my butt off by paying my long-overdue gym bills and seriously get back at the treadmills and the machines. I would think of how morbidly obese I am, and wonder why I even have friends with this ever-gigantic body I'm in.
You know sometimes, I feel like I'm a lost soul in a wrong body(Jesus. It's about time.). It makes me wonder what would happen if I was trapped in a normal-sized body instead of this pig-like physique. I'll probably have a spanking social life. I'll probably have more clothes. I'll probably be better at Physics and Math. I've probably passed all the universities I've applied into. I'll probably be...divirginized?(WTF)
Oh hell no.
Maybe that's the brighter side of being fat. You can keep your virginity until someone who's eccentric enough to have sex with an ant will come.
But still, being fat just really fucking sucks.
---------------------
I've never loathed school this much.
Actually, it's not really the school per se which is bugging me, but the people in it.
You know, people you thought you will never hate because they seem to have entered your personal life; people called..friends.
Yet again, I still don't know what the hell is wrong with me. As you have probably read in my previous post, I wanted to ignore somebody who betrayed me in an obscure way. She talked me out of it (Well, not exactly. I told my plans to her after realizing how I was being all juvenile.), and for quite a few days, I kinda pretended that everything was definitely okay between us.
Shit happens.
From now on, I will try to not communicate with her in any other way. I guess I have to go on my own way, like that kid from High School Musical said (more like sang, but the song was so crappy I don't even want to mention it.).
I know I'm being superlatively puerile and insensitive and all, but I know I'm doing the right thing for myself for ONCE in my whole fucking life. She doesn't need me, I'm trying my best to not need her (which has been very hard for the past few high school years). That's basically it. Sketch a story out of it and voila! There you have a crappy and busted conflict that's been bugging me since last year.
Note: This is not a lesbo fantasy or whatsoever.
--------------------
Ache was talking about how excited she is to graduate and go to college already. Even my other classmates are fantasizing about our next major step for our education, which is college life. Well, I can't help but feel the same way. I mean duh. A day wouldn't pass by without somebody asking where you'll go and study after graduation. Not that its annoying, but..oh well, it IS getting kinda annoying. If you're in my case (you only passed two universities; one is your fall-back school, one is some school you'll be using to get into somewhere you weren't able to get into, like heaven, or UP.)
I am very much excited myself too. Hello college! I don't have to wear a damn uniform anymore. I don't have to follow unbelievably authoritarian rules anymore. I don't have to stay in school for the whole damn day anymore.
I don't have to be that obese and push-over girl anymore. Oh, what a joy. Time to get back at them high school gee-dee-bees.
I sure can't wait.
Now you know how fat I am.
It sucks being fat. It really does. I mean, I can't even blurt out how gargantuan I am in public, for the fear that people might actually agree and thus consequently nod their heads in approval. One time when I was talking to this classmate who was complaining about how fat her thighs are (which is far from true. Her thighs are thin sticks, trust me.), I just suddenly blurted out "Well, uh, if they're actually big, then what exactly is the size of mine?". She looked at my thighs intently for quite a few seconds, then went "You don't hang out with boys anyway.". I told you people would agree.
It sucks being fat. I've never stared in front of mirror without thinking how big I truly am. I've never realized how fat I've gotten until mom had the doors of our cabinet replaced with sliding mirrors, much to my dismay. Everytime I would just stand there and fix my hair, my eyes, would always avert downwards, going to the direction of my thighs, going up to the sides to my arms, then back to my fugly face. When this would occur (which is like, incessantly), I would think of dieting, and/or skipping meals by throwing my wallet and other valuable stuffs out of the window so as to not spend them for food. I would think of exercising my butt off by paying my long-overdue gym bills and seriously get back at the treadmills and the machines. I would think of how morbidly obese I am, and wonder why I even have friends with this ever-gigantic body I'm in.
You know sometimes, I feel like I'm a lost soul in a wrong body(Jesus. It's about time.). It makes me wonder what would happen if I was trapped in a normal-sized body instead of this pig-like physique. I'll probably have a spanking social life. I'll probably have more clothes. I'll probably be better at Physics and Math. I've probably passed all the universities I've applied into. I'll probably be...divirginized?(WTF)
Oh hell no.
Maybe that's the brighter side of being fat. You can keep your virginity until someone who's eccentric enough to have sex with an ant will come.
But still, being fat just really fucking sucks.
---------------------
I've never loathed school this much.
Actually, it's not really the school per se which is bugging me, but the people in it.
You know, people you thought you will never hate because they seem to have entered your personal life; people called..friends.
Yet again, I still don't know what the hell is wrong with me. As you have probably read in my previous post, I wanted to ignore somebody who betrayed me in an obscure way. She talked me out of it (Well, not exactly. I told my plans to her after realizing how I was being all juvenile.), and for quite a few days, I kinda pretended that everything was definitely okay between us.
Shit happens.
From now on, I will try to not communicate with her in any other way. I guess I have to go on my own way, like that kid from High School Musical said (more like sang, but the song was so crappy I don't even want to mention it.).
I know I'm being superlatively puerile and insensitive and all, but I know I'm doing the right thing for myself for ONCE in my whole fucking life. She doesn't need me, I'm trying my best to not need her (which has been very hard for the past few high school years). That's basically it. Sketch a story out of it and voila! There you have a crappy and busted conflict that's been bugging me since last year.
Note: This is not a lesbo fantasy or whatsoever.
--------------------
Ache was talking about how excited she is to graduate and go to college already. Even my other classmates are fantasizing about our next major step for our education, which is college life. Well, I can't help but feel the same way. I mean duh. A day wouldn't pass by without somebody asking where you'll go and study after graduation. Not that its annoying, but..oh well, it IS getting kinda annoying. If you're in my case (you only passed two universities; one is your fall-back school, one is some school you'll be using to get into somewhere you weren't able to get into, like heaven, or UP.)
I am very much excited myself too. Hello college! I don't have to wear a damn uniform anymore. I don't have to follow unbelievably authoritarian rules anymore. I don't have to stay in school for the whole damn day anymore.
I don't have to be that obese and push-over girl anymore. Oh, what a joy. Time to get back at them high school gee-dee-bees.
I sure can't wait.
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