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.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Indifference
Alright already, ok? I didn't go to the freakin' concert because the fair itself made me agoraphobic on the spot. Not only that, I hate seeing people I don't really want to see nowadays. It makes me so irritated to see them when I walk past school corridors, and yeah, I'll probably emerge into my inner Incredible Hulk when I see them more at the concert.
This is why no one should ever make a crucial chapter of any thesis by herself. Jesus. I made that chapter weeks ago already, and its deadly effect is still taking a serious toll on me. My schizophrenia have reached its peak, and its a wonder I can still talk here in my own ego, not the altered one. Nonetheless, people I know can't really tell the difference that staying up late to make yellow-colored graphs made. In fact, I think that nobody really cares for me these days. Not that I give a damn if they do, or anything. But I wish I have some confidant other than Charlene whom I've been bombarding with my 'recon' problems with some university.
Oh, alright then. I'll blab it here.
After having my first rejection from Ateneo, I was trying to shrug that heavy weight it brought to my shoulders every time someone would remind me how cool it is to study there. This has become so incessant ever since the fifth of January, primarily because people cannot, for the love of God, just shut up all about it. And with its repetitive fury against me, it consequently became more or less easy for me to just forget all about it. I mean, I for one can't give any apparent reason why I should file a so-called 'motion for reconsideration', so why would I? And besides, doing such takes some deliberate pride-eating. You people know very well that I have damn issues with my pride. It's my soul food.
Last week my mom had suddenly reminisced my bittersweet rejection from Ateneo, and thus forced me to beg the Director of the admissions department of the said school to reconsider my application. In times like these, I had nothing left to do but blurt out to my mom something like 'Why the hell would I do that?" or something so dramatic like "You just don't understand! I don't belong there!", complete with a walkout, of course.
And from that day forward, she is still insisting me to do so. I told her a week ago that I can get my Physics teacher to help me in my letter of appeal to shut her up about it because its been bothering me so much. Oh, and yeah, get this - she baked my Physics teacher a box of oatmeal bars. Luckily enough, I wasn't able to take the box to school because I had so many things with me last Thursday.
I don't really know what to do now.
-----------------
It's a bit unfair how some people can change a person, but you can't. You know that saying, 'You can't change a person'? Oh I so hate that. It's not really in the matter of ability or whatsoever, but probably in the matter of who can actually change people. You know, something like human rights or something.
Well, maybe that's the way things really go. I sure can't accept changes in a good way, let alone changes in people.
What I don't understand is why people would make promises in the first place, then go break them afterwards. Isn't that a bit stupid and hypocritic? It's like building a skyscraper and breaking it down 4 months after.
You shouldn't have made a damn promise in the beginning, you fucking hypocrite you.
-----------------------------
I wrote these in my planner weeks ago:
People who wish to just fly aren't psychotic. Sometimes, flying is the only solution one can think of to escape the perks of reality; burdens are under you, instead of being over you. That makes it a lot lighter, ain't it? And yeah, I so want to fly. And die. Oh God.
In reality, a person who's much more of a smartass is susceptible of acknowledging more of what he/she can't do, rather than those things that uses his/her brain cells. With this way, he/she will strive to be more with a good morale. See, if you can't acknowledge your zero-brain cells alter ego, you're just technically filled with pride and crap. And that sucks, obviously.
At the end of the day, the line that separates love and infatuation is non-existent, What simply matters is you're letting those butterflies fly in your stomach to your heart's content. Well, at least you're happy, right?
A letter to MYSELF
January 14, 2008
3:15 AM
Dear Lorainne,
God knows why you're still up in this early time of the day. You have two things to blame: yourself, and/or your groupmates. I know for sure that you'll choose your groupmates, but please. Stop being such a push-over already. For Christ's sake you weigh at least a ton right there, so stop acting so bullcrappy. Next time, learn how to tell people what they have to do. And yeah. Push 'em real hard, you fucking bouncer T-Pain aficionado you. And another thing, please get a goddamn life.
Love,
Oyen (your long-lost alter ego)
-----------------
I need to ignore some people.
This is why no one should ever make a crucial chapter of any thesis by herself. Jesus. I made that chapter weeks ago already, and its deadly effect is still taking a serious toll on me. My schizophrenia have reached its peak, and its a wonder I can still talk here in my own ego, not the altered one. Nonetheless, people I know can't really tell the difference that staying up late to make yellow-colored graphs made. In fact, I think that nobody really cares for me these days. Not that I give a damn if they do, or anything. But I wish I have some confidant other than Charlene whom I've been bombarding with my 'recon' problems with some university.
Oh, alright then. I'll blab it here.
After having my first rejection from Ateneo, I was trying to shrug that heavy weight it brought to my shoulders every time someone would remind me how cool it is to study there. This has become so incessant ever since the fifth of January, primarily because people cannot, for the love of God, just shut up all about it. And with its repetitive fury against me, it consequently became more or less easy for me to just forget all about it. I mean, I for one can't give any apparent reason why I should file a so-called 'motion for reconsideration', so why would I? And besides, doing such takes some deliberate pride-eating. You people know very well that I have damn issues with my pride. It's my soul food.
Last week my mom had suddenly reminisced my bittersweet rejection from Ateneo, and thus forced me to beg the Director of the admissions department of the said school to reconsider my application. In times like these, I had nothing left to do but blurt out to my mom something like 'Why the hell would I do that?" or something so dramatic like "You just don't understand! I don't belong there!", complete with a walkout, of course.
And from that day forward, she is still insisting me to do so. I told her a week ago that I can get my Physics teacher to help me in my letter of appeal to shut her up about it because its been bothering me so much. Oh, and yeah, get this - she baked my Physics teacher a box of oatmeal bars. Luckily enough, I wasn't able to take the box to school because I had so many things with me last Thursday.
I don't really know what to do now.
-----------------
It's a bit unfair how some people can change a person, but you can't. You know that saying, 'You can't change a person'? Oh I so hate that. It's not really in the matter of ability or whatsoever, but probably in the matter of who can actually change people. You know, something like human rights or something.
Well, maybe that's the way things really go. I sure can't accept changes in a good way, let alone changes in people.
What I don't understand is why people would make promises in the first place, then go break them afterwards. Isn't that a bit stupid and hypocritic? It's like building a skyscraper and breaking it down 4 months after.
You shouldn't have made a damn promise in the beginning, you fucking hypocrite you.
-----------------------------
I wrote these in my planner weeks ago:
People who wish to just fly aren't psychotic. Sometimes, flying is the only solution one can think of to escape the perks of reality; burdens are under you, instead of being over you. That makes it a lot lighter, ain't it? And yeah, I so want to fly. And die. Oh God.
In reality, a person who's much more of a smartass is susceptible of acknowledging more of what he/she can't do, rather than those things that uses his/her brain cells. With this way, he/she will strive to be more with a good morale. See, if you can't acknowledge your zero-brain cells alter ego, you're just technically filled with pride and crap. And that sucks, obviously.
At the end of the day, the line that separates love and infatuation is non-existent, What simply matters is you're letting those butterflies fly in your stomach to your heart's content. Well, at least you're happy, right?
A letter to MYSELF
January 14, 2008
3:15 AM
Dear Lorainne,
God knows why you're still up in this early time of the day. You have two things to blame: yourself, and/or your groupmates. I know for sure that you'll choose your groupmates, but please. Stop being such a push-over already. For Christ's sake you weigh at least a ton right there, so stop acting so bullcrappy. Next time, learn how to tell people what they have to do. And yeah. Push 'em real hard, you fucking bouncer T-Pain aficionado you. And another thing, please get a goddamn life.
Love,
Oyen (your long-lost alter ego)
-----------------
I need to ignore some people.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
How I Loathe Thee
Why do people say that it’s the thought that counts all the time? It’s getting stupendously irritating when they would always blurt that out when you would give something so ugly to somebody (Ugly people deserve ugly gifts. That’s primary logic for you.).
When I was still in grade school, I gave my imperious classmate this butt-ugly keychain of a Disney character for Christmas. And by butt-ugly, I mean really fucking ugly. See, that Disney character is supposed to be Stitch of the movie Lilo and Stitch. And as it turned out to be divisoria’d, Stitch, who is naturally blue, became as yellow as a corn. His eyes that were supposed to be black became apple green, much to my surprise. What the hell. Somebody messed up the damn time machine again and brought some retro monster to the future.
And for sure, the stupid classmate cried (for reasons that I still have to know) and blabbed all about it to our adviser. The damn teacher called me to her table where my classmate who was crying as hell was hanging out. As I remember, this is how the conversation went:
Stupid Classmate: Ayan po o, miss! Niregaluhan po ako ng pekeng Stitch!
Me: Ulul!
Stupid Classmate: Ayan tignan nyo po o! Nagbabad-words! Ipakulong nyo na po!
Teacher: O tama na yan. Ikaw naman kase Ann,(Oh fuck my juvenile ego, alright. People back then used to call me my first name because my second name seems to be a little complex. Jesus. What is so difficult with pronouncing 2 goddamn syllables?) bakit naman nakakatakot na monster yung binigay mo?
Me: Eh yan lang po yung nakaya ng nanay ko bilhin eh. Sorry po. (This is truly a hoax. I gave my other classmates high-rolling gifts, and yeah. She deserved to get a 5-peso keychain of Stitch’s retro cuzzin.)
Teacher: Ah eh ganun naman pala eh. Pagbigyan mo na, iha. At least naalala ka nya, di ba? It’s the thought that counts naman eh.
Me: Oo nga naman.
Stupid Classmate: Hindi po totoo yun! Mayaman po yan eh! Wag po kayo maniwala dyan!
It was funny, really. That classmate never treated me the same way again. I gave her a loot bag full of crappy candies for our farewell party for her drastic change.
-----------------------
A while ago while cleaning our classroom, I've realized how lucky I was, in terms of some behavioral and maturity aspect.
While I was fixing the things of my classmates, I arrived to a damn conclusion that I entered the wrong school for my high school education. Sure, the place is wonderful because of so many physical things; it has countless buildings, unlike that of my previous school, which only has a total of 5 (or 6, if you count the church nearby which we frequently used for different masses.) small and cheap-ass constructions. It provides quality education that can give those kids at science high schools a run for their money. It is known to be one those exclusive institutions that has a very high standard among its stockholders. And yeah, it is also an excellent foundation for kids of the middle to upper classes of the Philippine society.
It may appear to you that my school is everybody's dream school. I thought so too, but that was before I became an Environmental-Friendly Committee Chairman of my class. Before then, I thought that I was very much fortunate that my parents enrolled me to a school that makes my previous school a shithole.
Some people in my school just don't know how to clean their dirt. If I had a dollar for each wrapper of some food I picked up a while ago, I'd be filthy rich by now. All of that incongruity makes me ask myself if it's really THAT difficult to place that dirt in a trash can. Are their nerves swollen, or something? How about their fingers? Are those experiencing some muscular cramp like that of I would usually get during GIFT time? It makes me wonder why these people are susceptible of cleaning their body, and not their surroundings.
Much to their convenience, my classmates know that I have not been assigning cleaners for different parts of the classroom for the past few months. I mean, what the hell is the point of doing such if nobody will abide to it? That's the most stupid thing one can do, evidently. I know I may have not some golden ticket to top universities here in the metro, but I know for sure that making people clean in that way will never ever make them clean.
So what did I do instead?
Nothing, of course. I was their all-around cleaner for a small number of months; cleaning the washroom as good as I can, providing the trash can (which was stolen later on), erasing the board, sweeping fucking dirt on the floor, and arranging chairs. Oh sure, my job seemed to be so small to be acknowledged anyway. Even our adviser hardly reminds me to do my job. With this, I've come to a conclusion that I am, indeed, a pushover. How ironic for someone who has a bouncer-like build, huh?
With that, people would complain how dirty everything is. The washroom, the floor, the cabinet..the everything. And who are they to blame but me, right? I don't even have the right ro retort or whatsoever in the beginning. For a senior student, one can only normally juggle their way through graduation with only two things: college and school requirements. But I was juggling three; the aforementioned two, plus the dirty classroom. I have to do so many things, which is not really all that apparent from my juvenile blog posts. I did the whole chapter two and three and four of our thesis, and the juicy and crucial parts of our Physics investigatory project. Obviously, will you be able to clean the room by yourself with all of those goddamn things on your mind? I know I have my own committee, but it's as if they don't care anyway.
Mom told me that our room is dirty because I'm disorganized. Well, to everyone who thinks the same way as my mom, look at me. Seriously. Right now, I am still so stressed with all of those schoolworks I did. I have reasons, duh. I became more stressed a while ago as I've realized that people can be so physiologically immature about stuffs.
I'm not really fond of comparing stuffs because the mere action of it is puerile, but if you're in my shoes, it's quite inevitable to do so. In my previous school, people know how to clean. In fact, that's where I learned to sweep fabulously and consequently scoop dirt to the dust pan. It is also where I learned to scrub tiles make them white as hell. I can't believe my grade school made me more mature than my high school.
At the end of the day, it's not really where you study that matters. Instead, it all comes down to those people you are studying with. Neat buildings and a whopping tuition with people who cannot wipe their own asses is a joke compared to a cheap school with people who are able to not only wipe their own asses, but wipe other's asses' too.
(This long litany is caused by alcohol. All of this scum was brought to you by no more than Jack Daniel himself.)
When I was still in grade school, I gave my imperious classmate this butt-ugly keychain of a Disney character for Christmas. And by butt-ugly, I mean really fucking ugly. See, that Disney character is supposed to be Stitch of the movie Lilo and Stitch. And as it turned out to be divisoria’d, Stitch, who is naturally blue, became as yellow as a corn. His eyes that were supposed to be black became apple green, much to my surprise. What the hell. Somebody messed up the damn time machine again and brought some retro monster to the future.
And for sure, the stupid classmate cried (for reasons that I still have to know) and blabbed all about it to our adviser. The damn teacher called me to her table where my classmate who was crying as hell was hanging out. As I remember, this is how the conversation went:
Stupid Classmate: Ayan po o, miss! Niregaluhan po ako ng pekeng Stitch!
Me: Ulul!
Stupid Classmate: Ayan tignan nyo po o! Nagbabad-words! Ipakulong nyo na po!
Teacher: O tama na yan. Ikaw naman kase Ann,(Oh fuck my juvenile ego, alright. People back then used to call me my first name because my second name seems to be a little complex. Jesus. What is so difficult with pronouncing 2 goddamn syllables?) bakit naman nakakatakot na monster yung binigay mo?
Me: Eh yan lang po yung nakaya ng nanay ko bilhin eh. Sorry po. (This is truly a hoax. I gave my other classmates high-rolling gifts, and yeah. She deserved to get a 5-peso keychain of Stitch’s retro cuzzin.)
Teacher: Ah eh ganun naman pala eh. Pagbigyan mo na, iha. At least naalala ka nya, di ba? It’s the thought that counts naman eh.
Me: Oo nga naman.
Stupid Classmate: Hindi po totoo yun! Mayaman po yan eh! Wag po kayo maniwala dyan!
It was funny, really. That classmate never treated me the same way again. I gave her a loot bag full of crappy candies for our farewell party for her drastic change.
-----------------------
A while ago while cleaning our classroom, I've realized how lucky I was, in terms of some behavioral and maturity aspect.
While I was fixing the things of my classmates, I arrived to a damn conclusion that I entered the wrong school for my high school education. Sure, the place is wonderful because of so many physical things; it has countless buildings, unlike that of my previous school, which only has a total of 5 (or 6, if you count the church nearby which we frequently used for different masses.) small and cheap-ass constructions. It provides quality education that can give those kids at science high schools a run for their money. It is known to be one those exclusive institutions that has a very high standard among its stockholders. And yeah, it is also an excellent foundation for kids of the middle to upper classes of the Philippine society.
It may appear to you that my school is everybody's dream school. I thought so too, but that was before I became an Environmental-Friendly Committee Chairman of my class. Before then, I thought that I was very much fortunate that my parents enrolled me to a school that makes my previous school a shithole.
Some people in my school just don't know how to clean their dirt. If I had a dollar for each wrapper of some food I picked up a while ago, I'd be filthy rich by now. All of that incongruity makes me ask myself if it's really THAT difficult to place that dirt in a trash can. Are their nerves swollen, or something? How about their fingers? Are those experiencing some muscular cramp like that of I would usually get during GIFT time? It makes me wonder why these people are susceptible of cleaning their body, and not their surroundings.
Much to their convenience, my classmates know that I have not been assigning cleaners for different parts of the classroom for the past few months. I mean, what the hell is the point of doing such if nobody will abide to it? That's the most stupid thing one can do, evidently. I know I may have not some golden ticket to top universities here in the metro, but I know for sure that making people clean in that way will never ever make them clean.
So what did I do instead?
Nothing, of course. I was their all-around cleaner for a small number of months; cleaning the washroom as good as I can, providing the trash can (which was stolen later on), erasing the board, sweeping fucking dirt on the floor, and arranging chairs. Oh sure, my job seemed to be so small to be acknowledged anyway. Even our adviser hardly reminds me to do my job. With this, I've come to a conclusion that I am, indeed, a pushover. How ironic for someone who has a bouncer-like build, huh?
With that, people would complain how dirty everything is. The washroom, the floor, the cabinet..the everything. And who are they to blame but me, right? I don't even have the right ro retort or whatsoever in the beginning. For a senior student, one can only normally juggle their way through graduation with only two things: college and school requirements. But I was juggling three; the aforementioned two, plus the dirty classroom. I have to do so many things, which is not really all that apparent from my juvenile blog posts. I did the whole chapter two and three and four of our thesis, and the juicy and crucial parts of our Physics investigatory project. Obviously, will you be able to clean the room by yourself with all of those goddamn things on your mind? I know I have my own committee, but it's as if they don't care anyway.
Mom told me that our room is dirty because I'm disorganized. Well, to everyone who thinks the same way as my mom, look at me. Seriously. Right now, I am still so stressed with all of those schoolworks I did. I have reasons, duh. I became more stressed a while ago as I've realized that people can be so physiologically immature about stuffs.
I'm not really fond of comparing stuffs because the mere action of it is puerile, but if you're in my shoes, it's quite inevitable to do so. In my previous school, people know how to clean. In fact, that's where I learned to sweep fabulously and consequently scoop dirt to the dust pan. It is also where I learned to scrub tiles make them white as hell. I can't believe my grade school made me more mature than my high school.
At the end of the day, it's not really where you study that matters. Instead, it all comes down to those people you are studying with. Neat buildings and a whopping tuition with people who cannot wipe their own asses is a joke compared to a cheap school with people who are able to not only wipe their own asses, but wipe other's asses' too.
(This long litany is caused by alcohol. All of this scum was brought to you by no more than Jack Daniel himself.)
Saturday, January 19, 2008
No Emo Shit
Today I've realized that I am so f-ing tired of things I am practically doing, if not everything. The stupid Talentfest sure made reality smack right into my face; I'm no swimmer, and I'll never ever be. This happens to be true because of two pseudo-related things. I'm fat, for crying out loud. Physics would explain this in four words: more mass, more inertia. Or if simply put into English, it means that there is a direct relationship between my mass, and my speed. And another thing, I'm very prone to my own death when I'm in the pool. This is caused by my bronchial spasms that occur when I'm extremely nervous or tired, and/or people who throw stuffs at you when you're being a damn pig by swimming so slow (well, sort of. ).
If those things are still not enough to drag me out of the pool, then I must be insane.
I'm just so tired. I'm tired of logging in for my three email accounts, and hoping that there is a personal message from The Boy. I'm tired of pretending that everything's alright between me and my best friend. I'm tired of planning to diet, because none of those gets fulfilled anyway. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of getting mixed signals. I'm tired of my irritating classmate, Chelly Moseros. I'm tired of dreaming to be a smart person. I'm tired of doing our thesis by myself. I'm tired of thinking that I'll be that engineer I'm aspiring to be one day. I'm tired of swimming. I'm tired of listening to my bisexual-wannabe coach. I'm tired of pretending to be so interested in anything, at the very least. I'm tired of seeing my typographically-error-ed name in Pauliworld, that big time campus newspaper I was able to get into. I'm tired of hating that classmate who just intimidates me for her own fucking good.
I'm tired of blogging, because it's like having an imaginary friend or something. I talk and talk and talk and talk, but really, who am I even talking to in the very first place? My own soul is not even listening to my own thoughts anymore.
Sometimes, I decisively think of just quitting those shits I'm tired of. These things are not ideally important anyway. I mean, what's the point of holding on to something you're extremely suffering from? Unless you're a martyr, it's a given fact that you have to let go of things that wear the hell out of you.
If the fact that I've already committed 2 major offenses in school ever since the start of the classes a week ago is still not enough for you to know where my weariness can lead to, then you're heartless.
-------------------
If those things are still not enough to drag me out of the pool, then I must be insane.
I'm just so tired. I'm tired of logging in for my three email accounts, and hoping that there is a personal message from The Boy. I'm tired of pretending that everything's alright between me and my best friend. I'm tired of planning to diet, because none of those gets fulfilled anyway. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of getting mixed signals. I'm tired of my irritating classmate, Chelly Moseros. I'm tired of dreaming to be a smart person. I'm tired of doing our thesis by myself. I'm tired of thinking that I'll be that engineer I'm aspiring to be one day. I'm tired of swimming. I'm tired of listening to my bisexual-wannabe coach. I'm tired of pretending to be so interested in anything, at the very least. I'm tired of seeing my typographically-error-ed name in Pauliworld, that big time campus newspaper I was able to get into. I'm tired of hating that classmate who just intimidates me for her own fucking good.
I'm tired of blogging, because it's like having an imaginary friend or something. I talk and talk and talk and talk, but really, who am I even talking to in the very first place? My own soul is not even listening to my own thoughts anymore.
Sometimes, I decisively think of just quitting those shits I'm tired of. These things are not ideally important anyway. I mean, what's the point of holding on to something you're extremely suffering from? Unless you're a martyr, it's a given fact that you have to let go of things that wear the hell out of you.
If the fact that I've already committed 2 major offenses in school ever since the start of the classes a week ago is still not enough for you to know where my weariness can lead to, then you're heartless.
-------------------
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Spidey?
I have a life, and that life is filled with school problems, like the fact that we will have a quiz on momentum tomorrow (which of all topics I've advanced-studied in Physics, I don't really get the idea of this one at all.), and we have some swimming competition on Friday. But I don't quite get it why I'm blogging for two days in a row already, amidst my 'sort-of' busy schedule. I probably need to get another kind of life. Social, will work, actually.
Anyways, our English teacher was not around during fourth period. So, as always, we were given yet another cheesy seatwork that was concerned with that movie we had recently finished watching, which is Spiderman 2. We were to write a short paragraph consisting of 10-12 sentences, and four idiomatic expressions from some magazine, and yeah, it has to be about the movie, duh. I don't know what was wrong with me during fourth period, because I was hyperactive as hell. I kept belting out 80's hits (with dance), and God, were my seatmates annoyed or what. So there. I write good when I'm high with barbeque powder, probably, so here's the stupid paragraph I wrote for the seatwork.
Sometimes, I feel like I'm Spiderman. Well, not exactly. I feel a LOT like Spiderman. Like him, I only have one goal; to help my parents in providing my siblings their well-deserved fine education. Sure, Spiderman's goal is nowhere near mine, but if you come to think of it, we both want to help people. The villains are our last straw(in my case, it's not getting the right solution for stuffs). Our last ditch-efforts and last resorts for these annoyances that seriously got in our nerves are always systematic(although Mr. Spidey's flexibility can make me envy him to pieces, It's not MY fault I'm too fat to be injected with some spider saliva). And yeah, in the end, we would always have the last laugh. All of these similarities makes me ponder so much if I am Spiderman's fat twin or something. But then again, all of it boils down to the conclusion that when you have a good ambition to begin with, you WILL win in any step you take. But make sure it's good and systematic like ours, or else you will end up like that weird Dr, Octavius.
I know it sucks, but it has become so f-ing rare that I can think and write like this while I'm at school. Usually, my mind is always crammed with deadlines and friendship problems. But that was sure not that case today.
Anyways, I'm crossing my fingers for another day of extreme euphoria.
Oh, and by the way, we're going to move to a new 'mansion'(as my mom puts it into her own egotistical words) in March. Not that you need to know, or anything (well I told you I'm cocky.).
-------------------------
I just don't get myself sometimes.
I have issues and...
crap. I lost it.
Anyways, our English teacher was not around during fourth period. So, as always, we were given yet another cheesy seatwork that was concerned with that movie we had recently finished watching, which is Spiderman 2. We were to write a short paragraph consisting of 10-12 sentences, and four idiomatic expressions from some magazine, and yeah, it has to be about the movie, duh. I don't know what was wrong with me during fourth period, because I was hyperactive as hell. I kept belting out 80's hits (with dance), and God, were my seatmates annoyed or what. So there. I write good when I'm high with barbeque powder, probably, so here's the stupid paragraph I wrote for the seatwork.
Sometimes, I feel like I'm Spiderman. Well, not exactly. I feel a LOT like Spiderman. Like him, I only have one goal; to help my parents in providing my siblings their well-deserved fine education. Sure, Spiderman's goal is nowhere near mine, but if you come to think of it, we both want to help people. The villains are our last straw(in my case, it's not getting the right solution for stuffs). Our last ditch-efforts and last resorts for these annoyances that seriously got in our nerves are always systematic(although Mr. Spidey's flexibility can make me envy him to pieces, It's not MY fault I'm too fat to be injected with some spider saliva). And yeah, in the end, we would always have the last laugh. All of these similarities makes me ponder so much if I am Spiderman's fat twin or something. But then again, all of it boils down to the conclusion that when you have a good ambition to begin with, you WILL win in any step you take. But make sure it's good and systematic like ours, or else you will end up like that weird Dr, Octavius.
I know it sucks, but it has become so f-ing rare that I can think and write like this while I'm at school. Usually, my mind is always crammed with deadlines and friendship problems. But that was sure not that case today.
Anyways, I'm crossing my fingers for another day of extreme euphoria.
Oh, and by the way, we're going to move to a new 'mansion'(as my mom puts it into her own egotistical words) in March. Not that you need to know, or anything (well I told you I'm cocky.).
-------------------------
I just don't get myself sometimes.
I have issues and...
crap. I lost it.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
It Sucks
Boy, whoever invented the word 'suck' deserves some yummy Pulitzer goodness. 'Sucks' pretty much describes everything and everyone that doesn't come close to your standards. Imagine, if we didn't have that word, everything would be so f-ing complex and philosophically deep.
On not passing the UPCAT..
W/o the 'golden word': I guess I did not meet the standards of the prestigious university.
With the 'golden word': I guess I suck.
See the enormous difference?
Anyway, you might ask why the hell I am blabbing about my favorite stereotype, which is the suckiness of everything. I don't have a clue neither. All I know is my cousin will be going to the same university that I will enroll in and..get this..we have the same damn course. I mean, how sucky is that? Here I am, dreaming to find my inner Engineer Gandhi with persons I barely know, and here comes some cousin from the province who hardly speaks Filipino. I want to die instead, thank you.
Since I'm utterly bored and in a constant refusal to sleep amidst the fact that I crammed my way into finishing the fourth chapter of our thesis by myself, I'm going to make a list of finishers for the title of this post.
IT SUCKS..
...to know that it's too damn late to study seriously anymore. Primarily because anything that has to do with the latter is not considered anymore. Seriously. Do you think that everyone will give an ass if you graduate from law school and med school a month before you die? Yeah, they will, if you have a guarantee that you'll be reincarnated, which is beyond possible.
...when people just cannot shut the hell up about what schools they were able to get into. I know for one that I am one of these uncivilized kinds, but at least I KNOW it. Whenever I get too cocky, I will admit it before you can even scratch your butt cheek. But oh, Jesus. Please forgive these bitches who cannot keep a low-profile for one day. I'm not going to call them attention whores or anything (because duh. I am one myself.). I'll just pray that they turn into farm animals one day. That'll be good.
...when your parents give you permission to do stuffs that are practically wrong in every sense, like getting a tattoo or drinking your brains out. I admit; (we ALL do)the only reason worth living for are those things that are restricted or something.
...when those dancing moms from Malaysia in Amazing Race Asia 2 get into Marc and Rovilson's way. God, they sure suck on their own. I don't even get it why two moms should form a partnership, if their expertise is only dancing. Why can't they just go on as 'friends', or lifetime partners? I would totally understand their lesbian case (well duh.). Their husbands won't, I'm afraid.
...when you feel so enthusiastic at the former part of a blog entry, then after a few words, you would feel lethargy creeping through your neurons. That's why it'll end in this way.
On not passing the UPCAT..
W/o the 'golden word': I guess I did not meet the standards of the prestigious university.
With the 'golden word': I guess I suck.
See the enormous difference?
Anyway, you might ask why the hell I am blabbing about my favorite stereotype, which is the suckiness of everything. I don't have a clue neither. All I know is my cousin will be going to the same university that I will enroll in and..get this..we have the same damn course. I mean, how sucky is that? Here I am, dreaming to find my inner Engineer Gandhi with persons I barely know, and here comes some cousin from the province who hardly speaks Filipino. I want to die instead, thank you.
Since I'm utterly bored and in a constant refusal to sleep amidst the fact that I crammed my way into finishing the fourth chapter of our thesis by myself, I'm going to make a list of finishers for the title of this post.
IT SUCKS..
...to know that it's too damn late to study seriously anymore. Primarily because anything that has to do with the latter is not considered anymore. Seriously. Do you think that everyone will give an ass if you graduate from law school and med school a month before you die? Yeah, they will, if you have a guarantee that you'll be reincarnated, which is beyond possible.
...when people just cannot shut the hell up about what schools they were able to get into. I know for one that I am one of these uncivilized kinds, but at least I KNOW it. Whenever I get too cocky, I will admit it before you can even scratch your butt cheek. But oh, Jesus. Please forgive these bitches who cannot keep a low-profile for one day. I'm not going to call them attention whores or anything (because duh. I am one myself.). I'll just pray that they turn into farm animals one day. That'll be good.
...when your parents give you permission to do stuffs that are practically wrong in every sense, like getting a tattoo or drinking your brains out. I admit; (we ALL do)the only reason worth living for are those things that are restricted or something.
...when those dancing moms from Malaysia in Amazing Race Asia 2 get into Marc and Rovilson's way. God, they sure suck on their own. I don't even get it why two moms should form a partnership, if their expertise is only dancing. Why can't they just go on as 'friends', or lifetime partners? I would totally understand their lesbian case (well duh.). Their husbands won't, I'm afraid.
...when you feel so enthusiastic at the former part of a blog entry, then after a few words, you would feel lethargy creeping through your neurons. That's why it'll end in this way.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
I Just Blogged 4
One thing that the school gave me that I benefited from is superbly the lethargy. My old sleeping habit's back, and there's no more reason for me to wake up so damn early then not go back to sleep till I come home from school. Yeah, you read that right. My eyes are finally tired from all those sleepless nights it went through the whole duration of the Christmas vacation.
But then again, I want my school sleepiness to just get the hell away and let me have an excuse to sleep through my subjects. I mean, we're barely 3 months away from graduation anyway. And I already have an unwanted school that I'll get dumped in next school year. Need I say more? I go to school not because I want to, but because of that stupid diploma that will serve as my one-way ticket out of my hellhole high school. So yeah. No more reason to listen to that old Mandarin teacher who've been blabbing about how we suck at Mandarin and because of it, we wouldn't be able to enter Ateneo or La Salle. Well think again, you conceited Chinese hag.
Exam results were..kinda okay. Turns out my original psychopathic solution for that word problem in the Physics exam that has to do with fucking asphalt roads (of ALL things). My Physics teacher even checked my immature solution that's nowhere to be found in that word problem page, but was thus written somewhere so nicely hidden. It was good, and irritating.
It's kinda funny how my life turns very similarly to that Physics shiznit. Not that you need to know, or anything. But it's weird how some hefty logical skill can pretty much change how things go. 6000 N is my original answer for the frictional force of the damn truck. But because I'm so logical, I settled for the fact that there was no frictional force indeed.
Wait. I'm not even allowed to say that here. Well, whatever.
--------------------------
Alyssa called to tell me that I did not pass the UPCAT.
What better way to get me started on doing the fourth chapter of our thesis. People should do that often. You know, crush your dreams before you do something important. It kinda helps, actually, minus that awkward moment when your mouth just quivers and you think silently ponder about it or something. But all in all, that technique is quite good.
My relatives are really insisting me to go the Ateneo and beg the director to reconsider my application. Don't they just get it? I don't belong somewhere so fancy-schmancy like that school. After molding up my emotions while they're all blabbing at me at the same time why I don't want to study there, I busted out of nowhere "WHAT THE HELL! I don't want to go to Ateneo, okay? You know, sometimes, I think that my brain is better off at somewhere like STI or AMA or whatever low-profile school you can think of. At least I will not have a hard time pretending to be someone I'm not. If it weren't for pride, then I would've considered not going to college anymore."
As of this writing, my dreams are now revised to the following format:
1. After the much-awaited graduation day, I will enroll myself in a swimming school. And maybe I will go back to doing runs on nice treadmills again, now that my favorite gym is now being relocated to a mall near our house. I am not doing this because I'm hungry for my personal trainer or whatnot, but because I weigh a ton and my chin has been reproducing itself quite a lot these days.
2. I have decided; I will enroll to DLSU for my freshmen year. After 3 semesters, I will thus transfer to that university where I think I belong. I will not tell what the fucking university is. You figure it out yourself.
3. I will leave this rotten house and go live in a dormitory/condominium near DLSU. I will have a bisexual rommate and I will not change my sexual orientation because of her.
4. I will not have a boyfriend because by then I will be too damn fat, I'll probably disown myself.
5. I will study very very very hard because I want to get into that university so badly. Maybe at this time, I am not deserving to enter its premises. But I'll make sure that after my freshmen year, they'll be the ones begging me to go there. You betcha.
The only sure thing in this list is number four, really. Besides the fact that I cannot see myself in any other university other than that school I so want to get into, my late-bloomer antics will probably take its toll again. But this time, it'll ruin my freshmen year, leading me to fail a lot of subjects. My fingers are sort of...crossed.
But then again, I want my school sleepiness to just get the hell away and let me have an excuse to sleep through my subjects. I mean, we're barely 3 months away from graduation anyway. And I already have an unwanted school that I'll get dumped in next school year. Need I say more? I go to school not because I want to, but because of that stupid diploma that will serve as my one-way ticket out of my hellhole high school. So yeah. No more reason to listen to that old Mandarin teacher who've been blabbing about how we suck at Mandarin and because of it, we wouldn't be able to enter Ateneo or La Salle. Well think again, you conceited Chinese hag.
Exam results were..kinda okay. Turns out my original psychopathic solution for that word problem in the Physics exam that has to do with fucking asphalt roads (of ALL things). My Physics teacher even checked my immature solution that's nowhere to be found in that word problem page, but was thus written somewhere so nicely hidden. It was good, and irritating.
It's kinda funny how my life turns very similarly to that Physics shiznit. Not that you need to know, or anything. But it's weird how some hefty logical skill can pretty much change how things go. 6000 N is my original answer for the frictional force of the damn truck. But because I'm so logical, I settled for the fact that there was no frictional force indeed.
Wait. I'm not even allowed to say that here. Well, whatever.
--------------------------
Alyssa called to tell me that I did not pass the UPCAT.
What better way to get me started on doing the fourth chapter of our thesis. People should do that often. You know, crush your dreams before you do something important. It kinda helps, actually, minus that awkward moment when your mouth just quivers and you think silently ponder about it or something. But all in all, that technique is quite good.
My relatives are really insisting me to go the Ateneo and beg the director to reconsider my application. Don't they just get it? I don't belong somewhere so fancy-schmancy like that school. After molding up my emotions while they're all blabbing at me at the same time why I don't want to study there, I busted out of nowhere "WHAT THE HELL! I don't want to go to Ateneo, okay? You know, sometimes, I think that my brain is better off at somewhere like STI or AMA or whatever low-profile school you can think of. At least I will not have a hard time pretending to be someone I'm not. If it weren't for pride, then I would've considered not going to college anymore."
As of this writing, my dreams are now revised to the following format:
1. After the much-awaited graduation day, I will enroll myself in a swimming school. And maybe I will go back to doing runs on nice treadmills again, now that my favorite gym is now being relocated to a mall near our house. I am not doing this because I'm hungry for my personal trainer or whatnot, but because I weigh a ton and my chin has been reproducing itself quite a lot these days.
2. I have decided; I will enroll to DLSU for my freshmen year. After 3 semesters, I will thus transfer to that university where I think I belong. I will not tell what the fucking university is. You figure it out yourself.
3. I will leave this rotten house and go live in a dormitory/condominium near DLSU. I will have a bisexual rommate and I will not change my sexual orientation because of her.
4. I will not have a boyfriend because by then I will be too damn fat, I'll probably disown myself.
5. I will study very very very hard because I want to get into that university so badly. Maybe at this time, I am not deserving to enter its premises. But I'll make sure that after my freshmen year, they'll be the ones begging me to go there. You betcha.
The only sure thing in this list is number four, really. Besides the fact that I cannot see myself in any other university other than that school I so want to get into, my late-bloomer antics will probably take its toll again. But this time, it'll ruin my freshmen year, leading me to fail a lot of subjects. My fingers are sort of...crossed.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
REJECTED
Oh yes. You've probably though of the idea before. You know, me being all rejected from Ateneo and all. What's funny is this actually came true. So much for a public display of my damn pride.
I saw only one 'Paragas' from the posted list beside the Blue Eagle gym. Kismet really has its own way of making things more heartbreaking, isn't it? That one Paragas used to be my schoolmate and classmate way back grade school. And who am I to blame besides my unreliable brain anyway? Eula(that's her name), made it with a communication-something course I have no intention of knowing. Yeah well she's freakin' smart anyway. My grandfather would always compare me to her, and would always wonder why she's so intelligent and I'm..I'm..I'm a failure. I hate craps like that. I mean, she's not even probably my 8th degree cousin or something and people keep measuring our brains like we're Siamese twins (which is so fucking unlikely).
Well anyway, before I start ranting how happy I still am amidst the fact that I was not accepted in Ateneo, I will give you a word of warning. Whatever licking style you may do in every word I will say, you will not taste a tinge of sourgrape. I. Am. Not. Sourgraping. I've told you all people before that I do not like to study in Ateneo. I have my own reasons, which I will be elucidating later, and/or in the near future. Alright?
Personally, Ateneo de Manila University gives me a very concrete impression of what it really is. If you put it into words, it will all just contain..'hard to get'. Perhaps that is one of those perfect reasons why people are so desperate to go there. The ACET is difficult, the tuition is difficult, and probably the people there may also be difficult (in given situations, that is). Everything is difficult, unlike UP, UST, or La Salle. In the latter parts of the previous year, I've later on realized that getting in a perfect college like Ateneo will make me, hence the coined term, perfect. So as to say, I became very interested in getting in the perfect university. Dad didn't made it there, so I was hoping I can relive his dream. Not for me, not for my friends, but for my father.
After making it in Mapua, I then pondered on the reason for why the hell do I want to go there anyway. For myself to be a perfect engineer/physicist? For my dad to brag about it to his officemates? For everyone to be proud of a big slob like me? If that's the case, then I think I'm missing the whole point of college, which is still education. Will Ateneo even help me find out who I really am (with its socially-clad and upper-class students? Heh. I don't really think so.), and what I am destined to be? At this point, you are probably thinking that I should like, go to a mental institution or some convent with this soul-searching thing I have. Well, you're probably right. I'll think about it.
At the end of the day, your choice of school does not really matter. So what if you did not pass their test? You've probably been dreaming for Ateneo or La Salle or whatever school all your freakin' life. Not being able to be accepted is an ass, I know. But it makes all things clear that it is not in God's will that you really go there. Maybe, just maybe, Ateneo will not make me the person I want to be (because after all, engineering is not really one of their fortes); A fucking Z-list engineer. Ooh. Sounds nice.
God does not want me to suffer the extreme consequences of not being able to stand up for myself in a school that does not only test your brains, or your parent's wallet. I know he wants me to go to a school where I can shine and show people that I can be Eula. He wants me to go somewhere my personality is best suited for. He wants me to go to..UP?
Ha. Yeah-freakin-right. I think I belong there, really.
But if all else fails, I think I'll just go to DLSU, where most of my friends are. At least I'll have someone to talk to in my first day, and not experience the trauma of being a first-day-till-last-day loner. Although I am indeed an introvert, I'm still a blabbermouth. I can't stop talking for at least half an hour.
It's funny and stupendous how people are more surprised and disappointed that you didn't pass, rather than them thinking that you deserve it(to be rejected) because you're not really that smart anyway. I like that crap.
Congratulations to all those who passed! You guys truly deserve it. And for those who didn't make it like yours truly, we can still transfer next year, hopefully.
Oh and by the way, if ever I pass UP-Diliman, all of you are invited to my 3-day booze extravaganza, which will be held at our street park. We will be drinking non-stop for three fucking days! Damn. That'll be good.
I saw only one 'Paragas' from the posted list beside the Blue Eagle gym. Kismet really has its own way of making things more heartbreaking, isn't it? That one Paragas used to be my schoolmate and classmate way back grade school. And who am I to blame besides my unreliable brain anyway? Eula(that's her name), made it with a communication-something course I have no intention of knowing. Yeah well she's freakin' smart anyway. My grandfather would always compare me to her, and would always wonder why she's so intelligent and I'm..I'm..I'm a failure. I hate craps like that. I mean, she's not even probably my 8th degree cousin or something and people keep measuring our brains like we're Siamese twins (which is so fucking unlikely).
Well anyway, before I start ranting how happy I still am amidst the fact that I was not accepted in Ateneo, I will give you a word of warning. Whatever licking style you may do in every word I will say, you will not taste a tinge of sourgrape. I. Am. Not. Sourgraping. I've told you all people before that I do not like to study in Ateneo. I have my own reasons, which I will be elucidating later, and/or in the near future. Alright?
Personally, Ateneo de Manila University gives me a very concrete impression of what it really is. If you put it into words, it will all just contain..'hard to get'. Perhaps that is one of those perfect reasons why people are so desperate to go there. The ACET is difficult, the tuition is difficult, and probably the people there may also be difficult (in given situations, that is). Everything is difficult, unlike UP, UST, or La Salle. In the latter parts of the previous year, I've later on realized that getting in a perfect college like Ateneo will make me, hence the coined term, perfect. So as to say, I became very interested in getting in the perfect university. Dad didn't made it there, so I was hoping I can relive his dream. Not for me, not for my friends, but for my father.
After making it in Mapua, I then pondered on the reason for why the hell do I want to go there anyway. For myself to be a perfect engineer/physicist? For my dad to brag about it to his officemates? For everyone to be proud of a big slob like me? If that's the case, then I think I'm missing the whole point of college, which is still education. Will Ateneo even help me find out who I really am (with its socially-clad and upper-class students? Heh. I don't really think so.), and what I am destined to be? At this point, you are probably thinking that I should like, go to a mental institution or some convent with this soul-searching thing I have. Well, you're probably right. I'll think about it.
At the end of the day, your choice of school does not really matter. So what if you did not pass their test? You've probably been dreaming for Ateneo or La Salle or whatever school all your freakin' life. Not being able to be accepted is an ass, I know. But it makes all things clear that it is not in God's will that you really go there. Maybe, just maybe, Ateneo will not make me the person I want to be (because after all, engineering is not really one of their fortes); A fucking Z-list engineer. Ooh. Sounds nice.
God does not want me to suffer the extreme consequences of not being able to stand up for myself in a school that does not only test your brains, or your parent's wallet. I know he wants me to go to a school where I can shine and show people that I can be Eula. He wants me to go somewhere my personality is best suited for. He wants me to go to..UP?
Ha. Yeah-freakin-right. I think I belong there, really.
But if all else fails, I think I'll just go to DLSU, where most of my friends are. At least I'll have someone to talk to in my first day, and not experience the trauma of being a first-day-till-last-day loner. Although I am indeed an introvert, I'm still a blabbermouth. I can't stop talking for at least half an hour.
It's funny and stupendous how people are more surprised and disappointed that you didn't pass, rather than them thinking that you deserve it(to be rejected) because you're not really that smart anyway. I like that crap.
Congratulations to all those who passed! You guys truly deserve it. And for those who didn't make it like yours truly, we can still transfer next year, hopefully.
Oh and by the way, if ever I pass UP-Diliman, all of you are invited to my 3-day booze extravaganza, which will be held at our street park. We will be drinking non-stop for three fucking days! Damn. That'll be good.
Friday, January 04, 2008
Potential School Number 2
I uhh..passed?
Not that I did not like it, or something. It's just that my reaction wasn't as ecstatic as it was when I passed that entrance examination for Mapua. Jesus. I laughed like a megalomaniac the minute that webpage from heaven landed right on monitor. The first cut really is the deepest, and up to this point, I'm still considering Mapua. I must be crazy(well, what the hell is new nowadays anyway? The next thing you might probably know is I'm getting it on with King Kong or my bathroom door.)
Another reason why this isn't much of a big deal is the whole household's response to the not-so-new news. For the first exam that I was able to pass, I actually called all the people living under our roof to go and see for themselves why I was screaming like hell. Being the apathetic that they all are, they just shrugged it off and didn't even congratulate me. Now for passing the DLSU-CET, I even thanked myself for not blurting anything concerned about this to any of my sibling and my mom. My mom 'accidentally' clicked the screenshot that I saved at the desktop and God have mercy on my mom and look at what she said:
Mom: Oh. You passed La Salle.
Me: Um. I guess.
Mom: So that means you have to go there by yourself now.
Now first of all, that's the most blurred-out sentence I've ever heard. I mean, why will I even go there in the first place anyway? Unless I decide to study there, which is nowhere to be found in my to-do list. Secondly, why is she being so apathetic and not even bothering to congratulate me? Oh sure. The daughter her friend's friend who took the exam 2 years ago probably made it look like as easy as wiping someone's shit-filled ass. But please. I know it was that easy and all, but can she just be at least happy that I used all of my brain cells just so I can pass that crap? Damn.
I emailed my dad the same screen shot above exactly ten hours after I saw it in the first time. His reaction made my day.
Dad: Yahoo!!!!! congrats..believe na talaga ako sa iyo :)
See, that's why I like my dad. I know he has bazillions of dollars hidden under his bed up there in Europe that can easily get me into an Ivy of my choice, but he doesn't want to because he is selfish and phony in that way. But at least he's being so supportive of me. I'll probably end up like him when I grow up. You know, be a computer engineer and a European gigolo at the same time. Sweet.
I'm still not enthused. Nevertheless, I'm still thankful that I got myself a second potential school for my collegiate education in five months' time.
ACET results will be out on Saturday, and my fingers are so crossed.
Anyways, congratulations to all those who passed the DLSU-CET too. Animo La Salle, anyone?
Another reason why this isn't much of a big deal is the whole household's response to the not-so-new news. For the first exam that I was able to pass, I actually called all the people living under our roof to go and see for themselves why I was screaming like hell. Being the apathetic that they all are, they just shrugged it off and didn't even congratulate me. Now for passing the DLSU-CET, I even thanked myself for not blurting anything concerned about this to any of my sibling and my mom. My mom 'accidentally' clicked the screenshot that I saved at the desktop and God have mercy on my mom and look at what she said:
Mom: Oh. You passed La Salle.
Me: Um. I guess.
Mom: So that means you have to go there by yourself now.
Now first of all, that's the most blurred-out sentence I've ever heard. I mean, why will I even go there in the first place anyway? Unless I decide to study there, which is nowhere to be found in my to-do list. Secondly, why is she being so apathetic and not even bothering to congratulate me? Oh sure. The daughter her friend's friend who took the exam 2 years ago probably made it look like as easy as wiping someone's shit-filled ass. But please. I know it was that easy and all, but can she just be at least happy that I used all of my brain cells just so I can pass that crap? Damn.
I emailed my dad the same screen shot above exactly ten hours after I saw it in the first time. His reaction made my day.
Dad: Yahoo!!!!! congrats..believe na talaga ako sa iyo :)
See, that's why I like my dad. I know he has bazillions of dollars hidden under his bed up there in Europe that can easily get me into an Ivy of my choice, but he doesn't want to because he is selfish and phony in that way. But at least he's being so supportive of me. I'll probably end up like him when I grow up. You know, be a computer engineer and a European gigolo at the same time. Sweet.
I'm still not enthused. Nevertheless, I'm still thankful that I got myself a second potential school for my collegiate education in five months' time.
ACET results will be out on Saturday, and my fingers are so crossed.
Anyways, congratulations to all those who passed the DLSU-CET too. Animo La Salle, anyone?
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Last Call
Jake Lopez.
I can't believe his show is over, and I will not be hearing that ultra-macho and sexy voice filled with sarcasm on my way to school anymore.
I fell in love with a DJ.
Yeah. I did.
I don't know why there is a 1.0 spacing between my sentences.
All I know is, I love Jake Lopez.
--------------------------------
One weird thing that I felt on this last day of the year 2007 is..sadness. It's not my fault. Chico and Delamar actually started it by having the top 10 in that way. I think Santa's the real culprit this time.
Yeah well anyways, 2007 was nevertheless a very good year for me. Although I was not able to do something oh-so significant (unlike that swimming shit last year, wherein I bagged that silver medal just for practically showing up. Not. It's the same idea anyway.), I had at least made something that proved my significant to other people. Like that time when I was so full of doubt that I will not pass the school paper, but ended up actually attending that first meeting. I know quitting it is just the most dumb thing ever, considering that getting into a high-rolling campus newspaper is kinda challenging. But I have my own reasons why I did so. And besides, I don't belong there anyway. I hardly speak perfect English, and my sarcasm is a no-match for their brains.
2007 was thus a year of maturity. Through those efforts that I have put just so I can abide by my own resolutions, I met people who made me think that I'm great as I am; that I don't need to fluctuate badly so my friends would appreciate me more, I don't need to have someone to make me feel better every single time someone would mistake me for a roasted pig, or a big blob of fat, and finally, I don't need to commit suicide just for my own emotional stresses to fuck off. In a more concrete way, nobody or nothing can ever, ever, ever put me down. It's either I die the way Bhutto did, or I'm just tad hungry. That and other superficial shit.
Looking at those countless blog entries I have made for 2007, I have then realized how I was able to evolve through INTROVERSION. I know this sounds so stupid, but my online sanctuary did not only improve my grammatical craps, but it made me a lot like Gandhi. Not of course with those hunger strikes he had (because I highly doubt that I'll even last an hour without eating anything), but how we understood people just by fighting for their rights. That fighting for their rights thing is sort of a gray area, I think. But hence through posting my everyday experiences, I have learned to be more observant and giving at the same time. I have probably blurted out bazillion times before that I'm the best apathetic this world will ever have, but it all changed as I come to think of it.
My last year in high school geared me much more to be the fighter God apparently destined me to be. I may not have a sexy booty like Wonder Woman, or a body so fit it can curl itself into a cocoon instantly. I may not have an award people can thus use to judge my susceptibilities (e.g. that f-ing academic award, or some medal bagged at a high-top swimming competition), or a brain that can be used to make major breakthroughs in different fields. I may not have that tantalizing face people can easily gape at, or clean nostrils (You guessed it right. I can't think of anything else.)
Do you know what I have?
(Oh. I can't believe I'm saying this.)
Well I guess I have a heart to begin with. And deep concerns for all people I know. I treat everyone as a friend, and I can never ever deprive them in one way or another. Those may not be as important as you may think, but in my conscientious opinion, those are two major things one must have to achieve that feeling of contentment. or be the next Dalai Lama or something.
How can you not trust somebody who takes more care of her gadgets than herself?(This is sarcastic, by the way. Jesus. I'm already stressing the obvious.)
So now, I present you:
Lorainne's New Year Resolution for 2008
(My alter ego is the one speaking to me, if it's not that evident enough.)
1. Do a damn cold turkey regarding your Coke addiction. You don't want to freak everyone in college with that humongous pot belly you have. Maternity pants cost a lot, and they aren't really fashionable (or even suitable) for a girl your age. Try drinking that Harvey Fresh apple juice that's been in the pantry for the longest time ever instead. Or try drinking Harvey himself. You've always thought he was a catch. With that slinky straw hat and seductive smile, nobody can ever mistake that kid for being a hillbilly. Except of course if you look down a bit lower and see what he's NOT wearing.
2. Spend less time on Bill Gates' rip-off.(PC, hello. Bullcrap. Don't pretend he didn't copy Jobs' binary codes just so he can have his own empire. Shame. He even copied Stephen Hawking's face. I will not be surprised if he has Beyonce's ass, or Angelina's lips.) The world is an enormous mall, and you really have to see it all for yourself. Through these outdoor thingamajigs, you can probably like, get to know someone who is exactly like you. You know, fat and conceited. With pubic hairs sticking out above her head, and with a face so ghastly it's hard to determine if she really is therefore part of the human race. And you can later on find out that you are just standing in front of a big mirror in India. Jesus.
3. Stop being such an agnostic BS. There is a God, and you simply know it. You've been studying in a catholic educational institution all your life, and doubting who you think gave you life is simply wrong. Angels and Demons is fictional, for Christ's sake. Tim Berners-Lee and Robert Cailliau surely did not just invented the internet on their own. God probably kicked their asses before they actually reached the completion. For what it's worth, it will not really hurt you to just be a little bit faithful to someone who gave you everything.
4. Cut down the fat, kiddo. One more bag of Cheetos and I'm sure as hell some sumo wrestling agency in Japan will talk you into being their next big fish. Or pig.
5. Stop making expectations already and learn from you past mistakes that has to do with expecting stuffs. Oh. Let me revise the idea of that. Stop making good expectations, and rather focus on how bad things will go. By that, you will then not be hurt is something did not turn out good in the end, or be so stupendously happy that things ended up you didn't they would be. It's some sort of reverse psychology or something.
6. Don't ever ever consider picking up that cancer stick. You are already suffering from bronchial spasms, hello. Smoking will make your breathing worse, and thus will lead you to your extreme ugliness. You don't need to smoke when your Jobs products got your back.
7. No matter how things get so..fugly, never think that your blog sucks because nobody reads it. Like hell you care, right? You only write here because you are so stressed out, and you don't really like admitting nor showing it to people. You don't want them to think that you are such a damn failure because obviously, you're not. What better way to show your predicaments than through your blog anyway? Your madness or hunger for something is expressed through words, not through actions or facial expressions as per usual.
8. Can you be a little bit more...oh I don't know..meek? You are so f-ing cocky already. It's as if you even have something that makes sense that you should be proud of to begin with.
9. Get a tattoo.
10. Be a goddamn girl. And by that, I mean dressing and acting like one. Thinking like a boy is actually a necessity for an aspiring engineer like you, but don't you think being a boy all throughout is kinda going overboard already? You can wear girly clothes, and surprise everyone with your boyish mind. You like surprises anyway.
11. Let the inevitable flow.
And there you have it.
Damn. I miss Jake.
Happy New Year everyone!
I can't believe his show is over, and I will not be hearing that ultra-macho and sexy voice filled with sarcasm on my way to school anymore.
I fell in love with a DJ.
Yeah. I did.
I don't know why there is a 1.0 spacing between my sentences.
All I know is, I love Jake Lopez.
--------------------------------
One weird thing that I felt on this last day of the year 2007 is..sadness. It's not my fault. Chico and Delamar actually started it by having the top 10 in that way. I think Santa's the real culprit this time.
Yeah well anyways, 2007 was nevertheless a very good year for me. Although I was not able to do something oh-so significant (unlike that swimming shit last year, wherein I bagged that silver medal just for practically showing up. Not. It's the same idea anyway.), I had at least made something that proved my significant to other people. Like that time when I was so full of doubt that I will not pass the school paper, but ended up actually attending that first meeting. I know quitting it is just the most dumb thing ever, considering that getting into a high-rolling campus newspaper is kinda challenging. But I have my own reasons why I did so. And besides, I don't belong there anyway. I hardly speak perfect English, and my sarcasm is a no-match for their brains.
2007 was thus a year of maturity. Through those efforts that I have put just so I can abide by my own resolutions, I met people who made me think that I'm great as I am; that I don't need to fluctuate badly so my friends would appreciate me more, I don't need to have someone to make me feel better every single time someone would mistake me for a roasted pig, or a big blob of fat, and finally, I don't need to commit suicide just for my own emotional stresses to fuck off. In a more concrete way, nobody or nothing can ever, ever, ever put me down. It's either I die the way Bhutto did, or I'm just tad hungry. That and other superficial shit.
Looking at those countless blog entries I have made for 2007, I have then realized how I was able to evolve through INTROVERSION. I know this sounds so stupid, but my online sanctuary did not only improve my grammatical craps, but it made me a lot like Gandhi. Not of course with those hunger strikes he had (because I highly doubt that I'll even last an hour without eating anything), but how we understood people just by fighting for their rights. That fighting for their rights thing is sort of a gray area, I think. But hence through posting my everyday experiences, I have learned to be more observant and giving at the same time. I have probably blurted out bazillion times before that I'm the best apathetic this world will ever have, but it all changed as I come to think of it.
My last year in high school geared me much more to be the fighter God apparently destined me to be. I may not have a sexy booty like Wonder Woman, or a body so fit it can curl itself into a cocoon instantly. I may not have an award people can thus use to judge my susceptibilities (e.g. that f-ing academic award, or some medal bagged at a high-top swimming competition), or a brain that can be used to make major breakthroughs in different fields. I may not have that tantalizing face people can easily gape at, or clean nostrils (You guessed it right. I can't think of anything else.)
Do you know what I have?
(Oh. I can't believe I'm saying this.)
Well I guess I have a heart to begin with. And deep concerns for all people I know. I treat everyone as a friend, and I can never ever deprive them in one way or another. Those may not be as important as you may think, but in my conscientious opinion, those are two major things one must have to achieve that feeling of contentment. or be the next Dalai Lama or something.
How can you not trust somebody who takes more care of her gadgets than herself?(This is sarcastic, by the way. Jesus. I'm already stressing the obvious.)
So now, I present you:
Lorainne's New Year Resolution for 2008
(My alter ego is the one speaking to me, if it's not that evident enough.)
1. Do a damn cold turkey regarding your Coke addiction. You don't want to freak everyone in college with that humongous pot belly you have. Maternity pants cost a lot, and they aren't really fashionable (or even suitable) for a girl your age. Try drinking that Harvey Fresh apple juice that's been in the pantry for the longest time ever instead. Or try drinking Harvey himself. You've always thought he was a catch. With that slinky straw hat and seductive smile, nobody can ever mistake that kid for being a hillbilly. Except of course if you look down a bit lower and see what he's NOT wearing.
2. Spend less time on Bill Gates' rip-off.(PC, hello. Bullcrap. Don't pretend he didn't copy Jobs' binary codes just so he can have his own empire. Shame. He even copied Stephen Hawking's face. I will not be surprised if he has Beyonce's ass, or Angelina's lips.) The world is an enormous mall, and you really have to see it all for yourself. Through these outdoor thingamajigs, you can probably like, get to know someone who is exactly like you. You know, fat and conceited. With pubic hairs sticking out above her head, and with a face so ghastly it's hard to determine if she really is therefore part of the human race. And you can later on find out that you are just standing in front of a big mirror in India. Jesus.
3. Stop being such an agnostic BS. There is a God, and you simply know it. You've been studying in a catholic educational institution all your life, and doubting who you think gave you life is simply wrong. Angels and Demons is fictional, for Christ's sake. Tim Berners-Lee and Robert Cailliau surely did not just invented the internet on their own. God probably kicked their asses before they actually reached the completion. For what it's worth, it will not really hurt you to just be a little bit faithful to someone who gave you everything.
4. Cut down the fat, kiddo. One more bag of Cheetos and I'm sure as hell some sumo wrestling agency in Japan will talk you into being their next big fish. Or pig.
5. Stop making expectations already and learn from you past mistakes that has to do with expecting stuffs. Oh. Let me revise the idea of that. Stop making good expectations, and rather focus on how bad things will go. By that, you will then not be hurt is something did not turn out good in the end, or be so stupendously happy that things ended up you didn't they would be. It's some sort of reverse psychology or something.
6. Don't ever ever consider picking up that cancer stick. You are already suffering from bronchial spasms, hello. Smoking will make your breathing worse, and thus will lead you to your extreme ugliness. You don't need to smoke when your Jobs products got your back.
7. No matter how things get so..fugly, never think that your blog sucks because nobody reads it. Like hell you care, right? You only write here because you are so stressed out, and you don't really like admitting nor showing it to people. You don't want them to think that you are such a damn failure because obviously, you're not. What better way to show your predicaments than through your blog anyway? Your madness or hunger for something is expressed through words, not through actions or facial expressions as per usual.
8. Can you be a little bit more...oh I don't know..meek? You are so f-ing cocky already. It's as if you even have something that makes sense that you should be proud of to begin with.
9. Get a tattoo.
10. Be a goddamn girl. And by that, I mean dressing and acting like one. Thinking like a boy is actually a necessity for an aspiring engineer like you, but don't you think being a boy all throughout is kinda going overboard already? You can wear girly clothes, and surprise everyone with your boyish mind. You like surprises anyway.
11. Let the inevitable flow.
And there you have it.
Damn. I miss Jake.
Happy New Year everyone!
Monday, December 31, 2007
De Facto
Looking at people's Christmas albums depresses me. Although it is kinda dumb to not use your own wisdom and freewill to NOT look at something that will juice out your anguishes, it's as if I don't have a choice anyway (given the fact that almost all of my contacts in Multiply posted albums having some old Christmas message. Not that I know what those freakin' messages are.). I just woke up a few minutes ago, and acting as if I'm on autopilot again, I shooed off my sister who's using the computer and instantly logged in Multiply.
How dreadful. Some took pictures of their presents, but a lot took family pictures with the Christmas tree with the whole family. Oh sure. I'm jealous alright.
Let me get this straight. I don't actually have a family during Christmas, and I did not unwrap a single present from my parents. There was none for me, for Christ's sake. I was in awe while I was observing my siblings unwrap and unbox their presents covered with that yellow gift wrapper from ToyTown. That feeling of deep wonder was not felt for my siblings, but it was in fact, felt for myself alone. Am I really that bad to not receive gifts of some sort? Oh sure. I had that CLUE board game. But duh. I bought that for myself. My sister just wrapped it off just so I have something to open when Christmas day comes.
I'm not really going to start a one-man rebellion against my parents. For starters, they're technically separated. Making some fantasy that they will give me a joint gift at the very least is kinda wrong, if not dumb. I have to understand then my parents that I don't really deserve much of something, because I have four siblings ahead of me. And yeah, I think that 100 grand laptop I received last year was for 10 Christmases.
Well, not really. I'm just looking for some dumb ol' reason to not envy my siblings, because after all, I should understand them. And shits like that.
How about my Christmas, you say?
Christmas is not a season for gifts. Nor for a family get-together. You can always do that anytime you like. Christmas for me has been a symbol of how I'm evolving as a mature lady, so to speak. Emotionally mature ladies don't give a fuck about receiving presents, nor dread because their family is not complete during the yuletides. What they give a damn about is how to make people (especially their siblings) happy. Because after all, that's what Christmas is just all about.
Ha. And you thought I'm going nuts by giving a litany about my crappy Christmas. I'm receiving my iPhone on Wednesday, dumbass.
------------------------
Now seriously, what is wrong with me?
Ever since Christmas started, the earliest time I was able to sleep was 3 AM. And as of this writing, my insomnia had hit an all-time record of hitting the sack at 8:30 AM. My body's immunity to lethargy is something that I should be thankful for, that is, if I have something to do. Like some thesis revising. Or investigatory project analyzing. Or something that requires physical work, like building a house or a highway. That'll be worth the time.
I read in Cosmo that in order to easily fall asleep, you can either relieve your mind, and let out stuffs that make you so stressed out, or you can count mob of sheep, jumping over the old wooden fence, and getting themselves killed by a lawnmower or something. I did both, but neither really worked. I ended up making a story that one sheep has a leukemia, and the only thing that can cure him is the man on top of the lawnmower's kiss instead. Then that tin man from Alice in Wonderland came and did this tribal dance that killed everyone. The end.
My insomnia has its benefits, as you probably cannot see. For one, my menstruation was put on vacation, and I haven't heard anything from that stinky red substance for about two months already. Another is my incogitable loss of appetite for food. That's a good thing if you have a body like mine, actually.
No, not really. The whole household have been coining me as 'the panda', because of my big build, and the dark circles around my eyes. Mom even insists that I wear pink bangles, with respect to Panda of Tekken 5. Oh yeah. Funny like hell.
Lethargy, come back. Please?
How dreadful. Some took pictures of their presents, but a lot took family pictures with the Christmas tree with the whole family. Oh sure. I'm jealous alright.
Let me get this straight. I don't actually have a family during Christmas, and I did not unwrap a single present from my parents. There was none for me, for Christ's sake. I was in awe while I was observing my siblings unwrap and unbox their presents covered with that yellow gift wrapper from ToyTown. That feeling of deep wonder was not felt for my siblings, but it was in fact, felt for myself alone. Am I really that bad to not receive gifts of some sort? Oh sure. I had that CLUE board game. But duh. I bought that for myself. My sister just wrapped it off just so I have something to open when Christmas day comes.
I'm not really going to start a one-man rebellion against my parents. For starters, they're technically separated. Making some fantasy that they will give me a joint gift at the very least is kinda wrong, if not dumb. I have to understand then my parents that I don't really deserve much of something, because I have four siblings ahead of me. And yeah, I think that 100 grand laptop I received last year was for 10 Christmases.
Well, not really. I'm just looking for some dumb ol' reason to not envy my siblings, because after all, I should understand them. And shits like that.
How about my Christmas, you say?
Christmas is not a season for gifts. Nor for a family get-together. You can always do that anytime you like. Christmas for me has been a symbol of how I'm evolving as a mature lady, so to speak. Emotionally mature ladies don't give a fuck about receiving presents, nor dread because their family is not complete during the yuletides. What they give a damn about is how to make people (especially their siblings) happy. Because after all, that's what Christmas is just all about.
Ha. And you thought I'm going nuts by giving a litany about my crappy Christmas. I'm receiving my iPhone on Wednesday, dumbass.
------------------------
Now seriously, what is wrong with me?
Ever since Christmas started, the earliest time I was able to sleep was 3 AM. And as of this writing, my insomnia had hit an all-time record of hitting the sack at 8:30 AM. My body's immunity to lethargy is something that I should be thankful for, that is, if I have something to do. Like some thesis revising. Or investigatory project analyzing. Or something that requires physical work, like building a house or a highway. That'll be worth the time.
I read in Cosmo that in order to easily fall asleep, you can either relieve your mind, and let out stuffs that make you so stressed out, or you can count mob of sheep, jumping over the old wooden fence, and getting themselves killed by a lawnmower or something. I did both, but neither really worked. I ended up making a story that one sheep has a leukemia, and the only thing that can cure him is the man on top of the lawnmower's kiss instead. Then that tin man from Alice in Wonderland came and did this tribal dance that killed everyone. The end.
My insomnia has its benefits, as you probably cannot see. For one, my menstruation was put on vacation, and I haven't heard anything from that stinky red substance for about two months already. Another is my incogitable loss of appetite for food. That's a good thing if you have a body like mine, actually.
No, not really. The whole household have been coining me as 'the panda', because of my big build, and the dark circles around my eyes. Mom even insists that I wear pink bangles, with respect to Panda of Tekken 5. Oh yeah. Funny like hell.
Lethargy, come back. Please?
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Unfulfilled Resolutions
This is the last Saturday of the year 2007, and we are all two days away from the year of the rat. Funny, though. It had always been this way, hardly even having that new year spirit. What's with new year anyway? People don't get to receive anything, evidently. I mean, on the other hand, careless people get to lose innate stuffs (except for fat, that is. If it can actually reduce fat, then don't be surprised if our house will be burning like hell before you can even say "Wow, she's really fat").
Before I make a new and spanking resolution that I shall swear to God that I will really abide to, let's review that resolution I made for 2007.
LORAINNE'S NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION FOR 2007
1. Forget Coke. Forget Sprite. Forget Royal. Forget 7UP. FORGET SODAS FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, DAMMIT. I've been making this as a new year's resolution for 5 stinkin' years!
-Yeah-freakin-right. The only days that this resolution was remembered was those days when we have to eat soup or bread because these foods tastes like shit when gulped down with a carbonated drink. That's probably some chemical reaction or something. My belly increased dramatically, so to speak. And you can very much thank that humongous amounts of carbonate, sugar, and alcohol for that. And my irresponsibility. Sure. Blame it all.
2. Study HARDER. Forget boys, gays, and homos, for that matter. YOU WON'T NEED THEM.
-And indeed, I studied a lot harder than last year. I guess it's too late anyway. Nice-y pants-y universities don't really consider much of the senior grades, which is a guh-reat tragedy, if you ask me. The school implemented transmutation as our primary grading system for this year, which practically did nothing but to indeed mutate stuffs. More deserving people was able to grab that academic award, and everyone's grades zoomed up. God, this sucks. It's like I'm pretending that all of those high grades I was able to garner were important for something, at least.
Forget boys? This one was badly violated, considering the stupid pseudo-romantic affairs I had with people from the opposite sex that have nothing but raging hormones. I never took one seriously, of course. If I did, then I would have been whining about all of it until now. Worse yet, I could've cried. Oh what a wimp. As I've experienced, meeting boys and consequently falling for them is pretty normal if you're around my age. Being offered to have sex after a date is quasi-normal. What is unusual is the fact that someone even bothered to love me, a gigantic pile of saturated fat, in an eros sense. It's funny and interesting at the same time how all of those shiznits ended because of my superb insecurity.
Everything seems too good to be true for a fatso like me anyway. My parents could've disowned their eldest daughter for being so damn fat long before I even started ranting here. But I guess they're probably still waiting for another juvenile reason (like making them wait for a few minutes, or purchasing an ugly shirt from an unknown shop.) before they throw me out of the house. I sure can't wait.
3. Try to meet other friends. (SUPER REDUNDANT.)
-This resolution is by far the only one I've consented seriously. I made friends by learning how to lower down my pride and disdainfulness, and thus be mature enough to understand people and their respective personalities.
God. I should be the next Gandhi or something.
4. Lose weight.
-Yeah. I did.
But it all came back after I stopped going to the gym, and stare at my personal trainer's delicious muscles. Jesus. I've never seen something else worth savoring except for that roasted chicken I saw at Roaster's. Until now, his smile is enough to give me chills for a whole week. Mom saw him a few weeks ago and he was still looking for me. I swear I'm feeling that we'll end up together and be so physically fit forever and ever.
5. Lose cellulites.
- I lost some in my thighs and ass, thank you very much to Treadmill # 3 in the gym.
It all came back of course. Apparently, going to a review center near a McDonald's branch was a bad idea.
6. Talk to the long-forgotten swimming coach about swimming again.
- Look, I don't need to talk about that guy I used to worship to go swimming again. I saw him once, and for sure I did not speak a word to him. He reminds me of my mediocrity in many sense.
7. Talk to those long-forgotten friends I've been checking out on Friendster and laughing out loud to their grammatically wrong sentences. Ex: Busog na me, gutom pa ba you? As if I don't make mistakes.
- I did. I even added a lot of them in Friendster. Now only if they would change their habit of abusing grammars and making people who have to read it suffer...
8. Be a GIRL for a change.
- I bought a hoodie with a plunging neck line yesterday. Does that count?
2008 Resolution will be out on Monday. Right on the New Year's Eve dot.
Before I make a new and spanking resolution that I shall swear to God that I will really abide to, let's review that resolution I made for 2007.
LORAINNE'S NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION FOR 2007
1. Forget Coke. Forget Sprite. Forget Royal. Forget 7UP. FORGET SODAS FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, DAMMIT. I've been making this as a new year's resolution for 5 stinkin' years!
-Yeah-freakin-right. The only days that this resolution was remembered was those days when we have to eat soup or bread because these foods tastes like shit when gulped down with a carbonated drink. That's probably some chemical reaction or something. My belly increased dramatically, so to speak. And you can very much thank that humongous amounts of carbonate, sugar, and alcohol for that. And my irresponsibility. Sure. Blame it all.
2. Study HARDER. Forget boys, gays, and homos, for that matter. YOU WON'T NEED THEM.
-And indeed, I studied a lot harder than last year. I guess it's too late anyway. Nice-y pants-y universities don't really consider much of the senior grades, which is a guh-reat tragedy, if you ask me. The school implemented transmutation as our primary grading system for this year, which practically did nothing but to indeed mutate stuffs. More deserving people was able to grab that academic award, and everyone's grades zoomed up. God, this sucks. It's like I'm pretending that all of those high grades I was able to garner were important for something, at least.
Forget boys? This one was badly violated, considering the stupid pseudo-romantic affairs I had with people from the opposite sex that have nothing but raging hormones. I never took one seriously, of course. If I did, then I would have been whining about all of it until now. Worse yet, I could've cried. Oh what a wimp. As I've experienced, meeting boys and consequently falling for them is pretty normal if you're around my age. Being offered to have sex after a date is quasi-normal. What is unusual is the fact that someone even bothered to love me, a gigantic pile of saturated fat, in an eros sense. It's funny and interesting at the same time how all of those shiznits ended because of my superb insecurity.
Everything seems too good to be true for a fatso like me anyway. My parents could've disowned their eldest daughter for being so damn fat long before I even started ranting here. But I guess they're probably still waiting for another juvenile reason (like making them wait for a few minutes, or purchasing an ugly shirt from an unknown shop.) before they throw me out of the house. I sure can't wait.
3. Try to meet other friends. (SUPER REDUNDANT.)
-This resolution is by far the only one I've consented seriously. I made friends by learning how to lower down my pride and disdainfulness, and thus be mature enough to understand people and their respective personalities.
God. I should be the next Gandhi or something.
4. Lose weight.
-Yeah. I did.
But it all came back after I stopped going to the gym, and stare at my personal trainer's delicious muscles. Jesus. I've never seen something else worth savoring except for that roasted chicken I saw at Roaster's. Until now, his smile is enough to give me chills for a whole week. Mom saw him a few weeks ago and he was still looking for me. I swear I'm feeling that we'll end up together and be so physically fit forever and ever.
5. Lose cellulites.
- I lost some in my thighs and ass, thank you very much to Treadmill # 3 in the gym.
It all came back of course. Apparently, going to a review center near a McDonald's branch was a bad idea.
6. Talk to the long-forgotten swimming coach about swimming again.
- Look, I don't need to talk about that guy I used to worship to go swimming again. I saw him once, and for sure I did not speak a word to him. He reminds me of my mediocrity in many sense.
7. Talk to those long-forgotten friends I've been checking out on Friendster and laughing out loud to their grammatically wrong sentences. Ex: Busog na me, gutom pa ba you? As if I don't make mistakes.
- I did. I even added a lot of them in Friendster. Now only if they would change their habit of abusing grammars and making people who have to read it suffer...
8. Be a GIRL for a change.
- I bought a hoodie with a plunging neck line yesterday. Does that count?
2008 Resolution will be out on Monday. Right on the New Year's Eve dot.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Christmas Weirdness
Something's wrong with me. Oh fucking no.
I'm having this overly-weird feeling of contentment. Like you know, not wanting an iTouch, nor an iPhone, nor a DSLR camera. Obviously, those are only the things that are in my mental wishlist, ranked by pseudo-trendiness of course. I can't believe I'm suddenly having this unusual euphoria, the one that I would always get when my soul's full or something.
Oh damn it. Blame my mom. She took us all out on Christmas Eve, and told us that we will just drive-through at that McDonald's branch near our village. Oh, and did I mention that she did tell us that we will drive-through only at McDonald's? I did? Yeah well apparently my mom forgot what she just said. Instead of just driving-through one fastfood restaurant, we ended up munching on tons of calories from two different fastfood restaurants, and one donut shop. Jesus. It would be really okay if there was a time interval between those fastfood escapades, but what the hell. From Eastwood, we went to Greenhills. From there, we went to Taco Bell. I swear to God I can still feel some churros crawling in my mega-thighs.
After that, we went to a mall in Taguig to shop our asses off. The last time we spent 10 grand on clothing was 2 years ago, and all of what we bought was just from one store. Sports Warehouse. Damn. I enjoyed the shopping, actually. It was the first time I felt so anxious in picking out new clothes to fit, then throw it over the counter, thinking that my mom probably has a vault in her bag anyway.
And it changed everything. And by that italicized word, I mean the whole gadget-freak thing. I'm denying the fact that I'm not losing it, because duh. Fantasizing about gadgets has been the source of my shemale wet dreams, and have made me distinct among the bazillions of people around me. Ever since that faithful day my dad and I went to Octagon, I've been worshiping motherboards and graphic cards like hell. It's not because I don't have a specific social life (Alright. Maybe I do. Like any of you would give a damn anyway.), but because gadgets are very much people I would like to meet. It's not a matter of being a geek at technology by collecting such advancements, but on the other hand learning what you should ergo be by these smart things.
But now, oh WOW. It's not that I can't decide between an Apple iPhone or a Motorola Razr2 V9m because of their outstanding features. It's if these things are useful, and can leave good impressions to people. It's if these advancements can exterminate my clothing shortage for college time. It's if these mobile phones are available on size 20, or have this incredible and miraculous ability to make my thighs 50 pounds thinner or lighter.
Oh, for the love of God.
I'm not turning into a damn fashion-wise bitch. No fucking way. I'll re-read all my T3 magazines, post some tech joke at PhilMUG, and do some more research on a potential replacement for that DSLR that should be my Christmas gift tomorrow. On the dot.
-----------------------
Christmas was...okay. I received a Clue board game and this graffiti jacket from Mom, a Starbucks planner with hefty cash inside from that lady who works at a high-rolling hospital near Meralco (I think she's my aunt. I'm not sure. I mean, she keeps giving me these nifty stuffs every now and then. I'll go with the auntie idea, because she's my dad's sister.), food and cash from my other relatives. Dad was weird. When I told him that I've decided to just buy a cooler DSLR camera on my graduation next year, he told me to buy an iPhone instead. No, not just told. He more like requested me to buy one.
El weirdo.
Anyways, I'm thinking of shutting this blog down soon. I don't really know why, but I have the slightest feeling that I'll be abandoning it some time next year. I saw Patti's blog a while ago and I realized that I'm writing crap, compared to my classmate and friend's awesome articles. There's not even a tinge of shittiness in any of her articles, nor swear words. I'm no good.
Better make the last of everything good.
(Oh and by the way, I answered my own question and ate up a chunk of my pride last night. I sent a Christmas greeting to whatshisfuckingface, and he replied accordingly. And no, my hopes aren't rising up.)
(Alright, maybe they are actually rising up. As if I care anyway.)
(Okay. Maybe I do care. For myself, not for some goofball who knows nothing but to drink and entice girls to have sex. Jesus. What a college kid.)
I'm having this overly-weird feeling of contentment. Like you know, not wanting an iTouch, nor an iPhone, nor a DSLR camera. Obviously, those are only the things that are in my mental wishlist, ranked by pseudo-trendiness of course. I can't believe I'm suddenly having this unusual euphoria, the one that I would always get when my soul's full or something.
Oh damn it. Blame my mom. She took us all out on Christmas Eve, and told us that we will just drive-through at that McDonald's branch near our village. Oh, and did I mention that she did tell us that we will drive-through only at McDonald's? I did? Yeah well apparently my mom forgot what she just said. Instead of just driving-through one fastfood restaurant, we ended up munching on tons of calories from two different fastfood restaurants, and one donut shop. Jesus. It would be really okay if there was a time interval between those fastfood escapades, but what the hell. From Eastwood, we went to Greenhills. From there, we went to Taco Bell. I swear to God I can still feel some churros crawling in my mega-thighs.
After that, we went to a mall in Taguig to shop our asses off. The last time we spent 10 grand on clothing was 2 years ago, and all of what we bought was just from one store. Sports Warehouse. Damn. I enjoyed the shopping, actually. It was the first time I felt so anxious in picking out new clothes to fit, then throw it over the counter, thinking that my mom probably has a vault in her bag anyway.
And it changed everything. And by that italicized word, I mean the whole gadget-freak thing. I'm denying the fact that I'm not losing it, because duh. Fantasizing about gadgets has been the source of my shemale wet dreams, and have made me distinct among the bazillions of people around me. Ever since that faithful day my dad and I went to Octagon, I've been worshiping motherboards and graphic cards like hell. It's not because I don't have a specific social life (Alright. Maybe I do. Like any of you would give a damn anyway.), but because gadgets are very much people I would like to meet. It's not a matter of being a geek at technology by collecting such advancements, but on the other hand learning what you should ergo be by these smart things.
But now, oh WOW. It's not that I can't decide between an Apple iPhone or a Motorola Razr2 V9m because of their outstanding features. It's if these things are useful, and can leave good impressions to people. It's if these advancements can exterminate my clothing shortage for college time. It's if these mobile phones are available on size 20, or have this incredible and miraculous ability to make my thighs 50 pounds thinner or lighter.
Oh, for the love of God.
I'm not turning into a damn fashion-wise bitch. No fucking way. I'll re-read all my T3 magazines, post some tech joke at PhilMUG, and do some more research on a potential replacement for that DSLR that should be my Christmas gift tomorrow. On the dot.
-----------------------
Christmas was...okay. I received a Clue board game and this graffiti jacket from Mom, a Starbucks planner with hefty cash inside from that lady who works at a high-rolling hospital near Meralco (I think she's my aunt. I'm not sure. I mean, she keeps giving me these nifty stuffs every now and then. I'll go with the auntie idea, because she's my dad's sister.), food and cash from my other relatives. Dad was weird. When I told him that I've decided to just buy a cooler DSLR camera on my graduation next year, he told me to buy an iPhone instead. No, not just told. He more like requested me to buy one.
El weirdo.
Anyways, I'm thinking of shutting this blog down soon. I don't really know why, but I have the slightest feeling that I'll be abandoning it some time next year. I saw Patti's blog a while ago and I realized that I'm writing crap, compared to my classmate and friend's awesome articles. There's not even a tinge of shittiness in any of her articles, nor swear words. I'm no good.
Better make the last of everything good.
(Oh and by the way, I answered my own question and ate up a chunk of my pride last night. I sent a Christmas greeting to whatshisfuckingface, and he replied accordingly. And no, my hopes aren't rising up.)
(Alright, maybe they are actually rising up. As if I care anyway.)
(Okay. Maybe I do care. For myself, not for some goofball who knows nothing but to drink and entice girls to have sex. Jesus. What a college kid.)
Sunday, December 23, 2007
TV Talk.
It's funny how television shows can make me so...eccentric. Ever since people have stopped ordering pastries from us, I was slacking off more than I did last summer vacation. I finished the third season of House last April and May. But ugh. Look what we have here. I already finished the first season of Ugly Betty the fourth season of House, and the sixth season of Family Guy. The idiosyncratic part is that I'm still freakin' bored. Damn right. I know I'm better off at a mental institution.
I did not like Ugly Betty that much. There is seriously no way that Betty Suarez can be like, a true person living in our modern society. How can someone be so apathetic like that? I know, I know. It's television, evidently. But don't you people get it? Television shows have to somewhat portray a contemporary metaphor that will teach us some kind of morality thingy, unlike those freaks at Heroes. I mean, who the hell can even jump off a bridge that is 100+ feet above the ground then be able to just dislocate a bone, then afterwards correct it herself? It's like f-ing Transformers again.
The only reason I watched an episode of Heroes is because of Masi Oka who is the cutest thing next to Bobby Lee of MadTV. That's episode five, ingeniously entitled 'Hiros'. God, he's the coolest Japanese ever.
I like how Seth MacFarlane was able to put together funny clips that seem to be out of order in each episode of Family Guy. It gets so twisted when one character would reminisce about something all of a sudden, then this clip of what he did would show up. I like that. I wish we can do that in real life, you know?
Mom: Oh come on now. Let's go to the mall!
Me: I can't, mom. I have diarrhea. I don't want to end up being arrested again in the mall like that last time we went shopping and I had an overdose of burrito and milk.
*Insert clip here showing the full-force of FBI and LAPD and NYPD or whatever police department dragging me out of the mall with my crap flowing down like water from my asshole, smearing like hell.*
That would be sooo cool.
---------------------------------------
Using Friendster as your gateway to your past world is the niftiest thing ever. I mean, here I am, about to graduate from an all-girls' high school, likewise for my ex-batchmates who will also graduate from that school where I used to study for my elementary education. The difference is just there you can see teenage boys' puberty, and you can be so f-ing touched because you will realize that you really had come a long way since you first held your first pencil or crayon or something that you use in school.
In an all-girls school, the only signs of metamorphosis you can witness are from that of your same female species, which in my opinion is not really much of exhilarating. Well, duh. I know it's not really obvious, but I'm actually a girl. Yeah, I so can't believe it too. Anyways, the only thing that can produce a humongous lump in your throat is the fact that you and your girlfriend s are so much mature now, compared to what used to be when you were still oh-so young and eating each other shits is still a fad.
Friendster is like a time machine, really. The only difference of this social networking crap from the conventional stereotype is that you're not literally being time warped, but hence just being transformed to this world you used to have.
Which makes me ask myself...
What if I did not transfer to my current school? What would happen? Will I have social skills?
Do you know what the hell would happen?
INTROVERSION would have never exist at all. I wouldn't probably have my own blog if so. I would be so socialized, I would never ever ever need a high-tech confidant other than those friggin chatbots.
Now that's scary.
-----------------------
As it turns out, my father will not be able to come home this Christmas nor New Year nor whatever week that is close to the aforementioned holidays. I cried for a while, of course. He's my dad, for Christ's sake. He's the only person smart enough to understand my point that there is no line between my wants and needs, and thus spoil my guts to death.
He gave me 2 grand (dollars) as a redemption, I suppose. But then I have to share it with my other siblings. 4 other siblings. Damn. They better thank me for I'm no selfish bitch.
-----------------------
I have a question.
Do you send Christmas greetings to a person you used to have a relationship with? Not that the relationship was anything fruitful, but uh, I don't really know. I don't know too why every Christmas, my pride would just hide somewhere between my mammary glands, then consequently I would be so fucking kind to people and give them gifts. It's like freakin' Satan on angel dust.
And oh, for the love of God. I don't have that damn Christmas spirit, please. Jesus. I'm like Grinch's yummy shemale version here.
I did not like Ugly Betty that much. There is seriously no way that Betty Suarez can be like, a true person living in our modern society. How can someone be so apathetic like that? I know, I know. It's television, evidently. But don't you people get it? Television shows have to somewhat portray a contemporary metaphor that will teach us some kind of morality thingy, unlike those freaks at Heroes. I mean, who the hell can even jump off a bridge that is 100+ feet above the ground then be able to just dislocate a bone, then afterwards correct it herself? It's like f-ing Transformers again.
The only reason I watched an episode of Heroes is because of Masi Oka who is the cutest thing next to Bobby Lee of MadTV. That's episode five, ingeniously entitled 'Hiros'. God, he's the coolest Japanese ever.
I like how Seth MacFarlane was able to put together funny clips that seem to be out of order in each episode of Family Guy. It gets so twisted when one character would reminisce about something all of a sudden, then this clip of what he did would show up. I like that. I wish we can do that in real life, you know?
Mom: Oh come on now. Let's go to the mall!
Me: I can't, mom. I have diarrhea. I don't want to end up being arrested again in the mall like that last time we went shopping and I had an overdose of burrito and milk.
*Insert clip here showing the full-force of FBI and LAPD and NYPD or whatever police department dragging me out of the mall with my crap flowing down like water from my asshole, smearing like hell.*
That would be sooo cool.
---------------------------------------
Using Friendster as your gateway to your past world is the niftiest thing ever. I mean, here I am, about to graduate from an all-girls' high school, likewise for my ex-batchmates who will also graduate from that school where I used to study for my elementary education. The difference is just there you can see teenage boys' puberty, and you can be so f-ing touched because you will realize that you really had come a long way since you first held your first pencil or crayon or something that you use in school.
In an all-girls school, the only signs of metamorphosis you can witness are from that of your same female species, which in my opinion is not really much of exhilarating. Well, duh. I know it's not really obvious, but I'm actually a girl. Yeah, I so can't believe it too. Anyways, the only thing that can produce a humongous lump in your throat is the fact that you and your girlfriend s are so much mature now, compared to what used to be when you were still oh-so young and eating each other shits is still a fad.
Friendster is like a time machine, really. The only difference of this social networking crap from the conventional stereotype is that you're not literally being time warped, but hence just being transformed to this world you used to have.
Which makes me ask myself...
What if I did not transfer to my current school? What would happen? Will I have social skills?
Do you know what the hell would happen?
INTROVERSION would have never exist at all. I wouldn't probably have my own blog if so. I would be so socialized, I would never ever ever need a high-tech confidant other than those friggin chatbots.
Now that's scary.
-----------------------
As it turns out, my father will not be able to come home this Christmas nor New Year nor whatever week that is close to the aforementioned holidays. I cried for a while, of course. He's my dad, for Christ's sake. He's the only person smart enough to understand my point that there is no line between my wants and needs, and thus spoil my guts to death.
He gave me 2 grand (dollars) as a redemption, I suppose. But then I have to share it with my other siblings. 4 other siblings. Damn. They better thank me for I'm no selfish bitch.
-----------------------
I have a question.
Do you send Christmas greetings to a person you used to have a relationship with? Not that the relationship was anything fruitful, but uh, I don't really know. I don't know too why every Christmas, my pride would just hide somewhere between my mammary glands, then consequently I would be so fucking kind to people and give them gifts. It's like freakin' Satan on angel dust.
And oh, for the love of God. I don't have that damn Christmas spirit, please. Jesus. I'm like Grinch's yummy shemale version here.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Not Much
So this is what a day-off feels like. Freedom and boredom sucks.
I've been working my ass off for the past few days. I was scooping out molds of crinkle mixture, shape what I've scooped to a sphere, throw it to this basin filled with powdered sugar, then arrange it together with other crinkle spheres into this baking pan with powdered sugar, put the pan in the oven, wait for a couple of minutes, then pack them.
This is what I did for 15+ hours for each day that I worked.
At first, I was very much overjoyed. I mean, really. This is the first time that my vacation had been productive, at the very least. Nobody living under our roof cannot, for the love of crinkles, call me a fat-ass who slacks off 10 hours a day. Or the whole day, if you would like to be more generic. That's because I worked my way to a buttload of pastries my mom asked me to make.
But after 10 hours (I don't know why I keep using 10 as a number. Something to do with the horoscope shits probably), I felt absolutely bored with all of it already. When the maids are in the other side of our kitchen that is seperated by a wall, I would curse myself to death. It is a wonder too that one of our maids asked me what "stupid", "shit", "fucking hell, and "God this so suck please kill me now" means. I was surprised that they heard everything I said to the crinkle mixture. Maids have some kind of telepathy now? What the hell.
So there. Today's my day-off. And tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day. Until we get some more orders, I guess I'll be spending my days watching the first season of Ugly Betty and Heroes. And please don't call me a slacker. It's not like I have anything else to do anyway.
-----------------------
I am still touched.
Monica gave me her Christmas gift last Tuesday at the year-ender party Ira organized at her crib. She ordered me to not open it till I arrive at home, which did not happen till the clock striked at 10 pm. And GOD. I was so flabbergasted at the sight of her gift. Come check it out.
IT'S STEWIE FOR CHRIST'S SAKE. I just love that baby.
I've been working my ass off for the past few days. I was scooping out molds of crinkle mixture, shape what I've scooped to a sphere, throw it to this basin filled with powdered sugar, then arrange it together with other crinkle spheres into this baking pan with powdered sugar, put the pan in the oven, wait for a couple of minutes, then pack them.
This is what I did for 15+ hours for each day that I worked.
At first, I was very much overjoyed. I mean, really. This is the first time that my vacation had been productive, at the very least. Nobody living under our roof cannot, for the love of crinkles, call me a fat-ass who slacks off 10 hours a day. Or the whole day, if you would like to be more generic. That's because I worked my way to a buttload of pastries my mom asked me to make.
But after 10 hours (I don't know why I keep using 10 as a number. Something to do with the horoscope shits probably), I felt absolutely bored with all of it already. When the maids are in the other side of our kitchen that is seperated by a wall, I would curse myself to death. It is a wonder too that one of our maids asked me what "stupid", "shit", "fucking hell, and "God this so suck please kill me now" means. I was surprised that they heard everything I said to the crinkle mixture. Maids have some kind of telepathy now? What the hell.
So there. Today's my day-off. And tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day. Until we get some more orders, I guess I'll be spending my days watching the first season of Ugly Betty and Heroes. And please don't call me a slacker. It's not like I have anything else to do anyway.
-----------------------
I am still touched.
Monica gave me her Christmas gift last Tuesday at the year-ender party Ira organized at her crib. She ordered me to not open it till I arrive at home, which did not happen till the clock striked at 10 pm. And GOD. I was so flabbergasted at the sight of her gift. Come check it out.
IT'S STEWIE FOR CHRIST'S SAKE. I just love that baby.
The following aren't gifts, but they were scribbled all over that gift wrap. I know posting them is not making any significance to any of this, but I don't know. It kinda hit me that my world revolved around these scribbles for quite some time. And I liked it, actually.
The Holy Grail. He used to be my swimming coach, by the way.
I can't believe I'm posting this.
I miss Geometry too.
The Holy Grail. He used to be my swimming coach, by the way.
I can't believe I'm posting this.
No friend had ever given me a shirt for Christmas. Not until Monica did so.
THANK YOU BODIKA. You don't know how much I love your gift.
---------------
THANK YOU BODIKA. You don't know how much I love your gift.
---------------
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Things Can Suck Even More
when they change.
Things can surely suck even more when they change.
Apparently, this will probably be the first time I'm going to talk about fucking changes in a general view. I don't have an idea why, but change is definitely one topic everyone loves blabbing about. And besides, I have to make up for that pinkie promise to my own toe that I will join an essay-writing contest a few months ago, which I had evidently let go of last week because of countless academic pressures that are eating my minuscule brain cells. The deadline was two hours ago, actually.
Everytime change would get in my way, one quote I have read somewhere would always pop in my mind. "People change because you change". I don't quite get everything that it is stating, really. How come things that change(or even just things per se) would be always blamed upon persons who question them? Not all things are rhetorical. For my 16 years of existence, the two things that have been known to be so grandiloquent that questioning them will make you so dumb are God and physics word problems.
I hate change. I hate everything that changes. Moreover, I hate people who change more because ostensibly, they think that you will still support them amidst the transposition they are suddenly going through. What about changes that are for the better, you say? They still suck. Nobody changes for the better. If so, then why isn't it that the world is still not a better place, like that Michael Jackson song is blurting out? Don't just everyone get it? Changing for the better is the same as changing for the worse because um, duh? CHANGE. CHANGE. CHANGE.
Of all the things that God had chosen to become inevitable, why the hell does it have to be change?
Fuck change.
I need to smoke to relieve this stress changes are giving me. Or drink a beer or two.
----------------------
How peculiar.
When I woke up yesterday morning, the first thing that automatically popped in my mind was our thesis. A few seconds later, our investigatory project. A minute passed, all our requirements had flashed right into my eyes like an awful Powerpoint presentation. After two minutes, I went to pee. Not that I want everyone to know how my morning routine goes.
Now seriously, what the hell is wrong with me anyway?
The first theory that tickled my curiosity was the fact that the holiday vacation and ambiance hasn't kicked in. This is probably normal, really. A day barely passed by since I had spent my last school day in 2007 anyway. So to speak, I'm still experiencing some difficulties adjusting my life dial from "fucking hell kill me now please God why are you doing this to me I know I'm the worst daughter you ever had but all of this school shit has gone too inhuman" to "time for some vices and intimacies with your blanket and gaming consoles."
The second one was the atrocious truth that the last 3 months was so depleted by several projects and problems, that my insomnia is now in its worse stage. Other than that, cramming for requirements everyday that have become very incessant since I entered my current school had probably brainwashed me into thinking that I still have tons of things to accomplish before I can acquire total relaxation. If this will continue till Christmas, I'm afraid you people can already confirm to your friends and family that yours truly is finally joining the bandwagon for mentally retards. I hope my psychotic state can help you and your family to have some yuletide goodness.
The final one is..I dunno. A hoax, as I can put into mere words.
I didn't go out yesterday. Yeah, sure. Oh look at Lorainne here. She is so introverted she probably doesn't know what social life means.
It had become a fad for people in high school to go out after school during Friday's, or some school days that are pristine steps for vacations and whatever. Not going out on the aforementioned days makes you not more than a loser, as people are coining it. So yeah, I guess I am one. What's new, huh?
Well, not really.
Frankly enough, I did not go out yesterday because I was saving moohlas for upcoming celebrations of vices with some classmates and of course, I will be getting a tattoo on my butt crack with them.
You read that right, virtual world. The introvert will get herself a hardcore tattoo on her butt crack. Beat that. Mom and Dad already gave me the go signal because it is so obvious already that their daughter is nowhere near normal and civilized. I have no plans of donating my blood to anybody aside from my feminine napkins, if some of you will ask.
I can't believe it. I will be wearing a tattoo under my toga for graduation next year. That is so neat. I feel like a gay person wearing my first ever pink thong. Now all I need is to smoke and to have some piercings on my liver and to eat crack and there you have it! A complete dipshit more than ready for college.
-------------------
26th, DLSU-CET results.
5th of next year, ACET results.
I seriously cannot wait any longer. Everytime I would be reminded of this, my teeth would just impulsively start gnawing on my lower lip so fast, that I have earned my mouth two canker sores and some random scar that bleeds every single time I eat.
Well, whatever.
I'm still considering going to a Misa de Gallo later. For my UP dreams. NOT.
Things can surely suck even more when they change.
Apparently, this will probably be the first time I'm going to talk about fucking changes in a general view. I don't have an idea why, but change is definitely one topic everyone loves blabbing about. And besides, I have to make up for that pinkie promise to my own toe that I will join an essay-writing contest a few months ago, which I had evidently let go of last week because of countless academic pressures that are eating my minuscule brain cells. The deadline was two hours ago, actually.
Everytime change would get in my way, one quote I have read somewhere would always pop in my mind. "People change because you change". I don't quite get everything that it is stating, really. How come things that change(or even just things per se) would be always blamed upon persons who question them? Not all things are rhetorical. For my 16 years of existence, the two things that have been known to be so grandiloquent that questioning them will make you so dumb are God and physics word problems.
I hate change. I hate everything that changes. Moreover, I hate people who change more because ostensibly, they think that you will still support them amidst the transposition they are suddenly going through. What about changes that are for the better, you say? They still suck. Nobody changes for the better. If so, then why isn't it that the world is still not a better place, like that Michael Jackson song is blurting out? Don't just everyone get it? Changing for the better is the same as changing for the worse because um, duh? CHANGE. CHANGE. CHANGE.
Of all the things that God had chosen to become inevitable, why the hell does it have to be change?
Fuck change.
I need to smoke to relieve this stress changes are giving me. Or drink a beer or two.
----------------------
How peculiar.
When I woke up yesterday morning, the first thing that automatically popped in my mind was our thesis. A few seconds later, our investigatory project. A minute passed, all our requirements had flashed right into my eyes like an awful Powerpoint presentation. After two minutes, I went to pee. Not that I want everyone to know how my morning routine goes.
Now seriously, what the hell is wrong with me anyway?
The first theory that tickled my curiosity was the fact that the holiday vacation and ambiance hasn't kicked in. This is probably normal, really. A day barely passed by since I had spent my last school day in 2007 anyway. So to speak, I'm still experiencing some difficulties adjusting my life dial from "fucking hell kill me now please God why are you doing this to me I know I'm the worst daughter you ever had but all of this school shit has gone too inhuman" to "time for some vices and intimacies with your blanket and gaming consoles."
The second one was the atrocious truth that the last 3 months was so depleted by several projects and problems, that my insomnia is now in its worse stage. Other than that, cramming for requirements everyday that have become very incessant since I entered my current school had probably brainwashed me into thinking that I still have tons of things to accomplish before I can acquire total relaxation. If this will continue till Christmas, I'm afraid you people can already confirm to your friends and family that yours truly is finally joining the bandwagon for mentally retards. I hope my psychotic state can help you and your family to have some yuletide goodness.
The final one is..I dunno. A hoax, as I can put into mere words.
I didn't go out yesterday. Yeah, sure. Oh look at Lorainne here. She is so introverted she probably doesn't know what social life means.
It had become a fad for people in high school to go out after school during Friday's, or some school days that are pristine steps for vacations and whatever. Not going out on the aforementioned days makes you not more than a loser, as people are coining it. So yeah, I guess I am one. What's new, huh?
Well, not really.
Frankly enough, I did not go out yesterday because I was saving moohlas for upcoming celebrations of vices with some classmates and of course, I will be getting a tattoo on my butt crack with them.
You read that right, virtual world. The introvert will get herself a hardcore tattoo on her butt crack. Beat that. Mom and Dad already gave me the go signal because it is so obvious already that their daughter is nowhere near normal and civilized. I have no plans of donating my blood to anybody aside from my feminine napkins, if some of you will ask.
I can't believe it. I will be wearing a tattoo under my toga for graduation next year. That is so neat. I feel like a gay person wearing my first ever pink thong. Now all I need is to smoke and to have some piercings on my liver and to eat crack and there you have it! A complete dipshit more than ready for college.
-------------------
26th, DLSU-CET results.
5th of next year, ACET results.
I seriously cannot wait any longer. Everytime I would be reminded of this, my teeth would just impulsively start gnawing on my lower lip so fast, that I have earned my mouth two canker sores and some random scar that bleeds every single time I eat.
Well, whatever.
I'm still considering going to a Misa de Gallo later. For my UP dreams. NOT.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Hell in A Handbasket
I would appreciate this one as a Christmas gift, of course. If by hell you mean cigarettes, kiddie drugs, absinth, and a good picture of that summer-lovin' I had, that is.
Ah, the taste of my last afternoon delight as a pristine step of my Christmas vacation. It tastes funny, though. Like I'm not even supposed to be here, or something. Right. I should be in hell, actually. It is a but a wonder why I ended up at my room, typing stuffs. Not good for a senior student, but nice one for an introvert.
Anyways, I received delightful gifts today. All of them are edible, except for the thing Ayu and Eleen gave me. Thanks. I will surely need it for my upcoming wet dreams this holiday season.
Here are some of the presents I enjoyed eating and staring at:
I wish this was edible too. Not in a sexual way but uh... (the thong is from Eleen Manlapig and Ayu Martinez, by the way.)
Ah, the taste of my last afternoon delight as a pristine step of my Christmas vacation. It tastes funny, though. Like I'm not even supposed to be here, or something. Right. I should be in hell, actually. It is a but a wonder why I ended up at my room, typing stuffs. Not good for a senior student, but nice one for an introvert.
Anyways, I received delightful gifts today. All of them are edible, except for the thing Ayu and Eleen gave me. Thanks. I will surely need it for my upcoming wet dreams this holiday season.
Here are some of the presents I enjoyed eating and staring at:
The Greatest Gift Pack EVER - from Rica Guerrero, Ayu Martinez, and Bianca Marjalino.
The Most Scrumptous Banana Cake I had -from Reann Gali...
...my good Mandarin classmate. :) (WTF is with that smiley)
I wish this was edible too. Not in a sexual way but uh... (the thong is from Eleen Manlapig and Ayu Martinez, by the way.)
There were many other gifts too. Like that Taisan from Nina Meily, and the brownies from Alyssa Flores. Damn. It's times like these when you just thank God for giving you such naughty and rich friends. I'll surely miss this.
Oh hell. I'm gonna start blabbing about how sad it is that this will be my last Christmas vacation as a high school student again. I'll better stop now, really. And besides, I have five more friggin academic weeks to reminisce past high school experiences anyway. So screw it.
THANK YOU FRIENDS. REALLY NOW.
----------------------------
Mom's friend who is a well-known chain-smoker in her suburbia offered me one of her cancer sticks a while ago right in front of my mom's face. My initial response was happiness, because duh. Finally, someone have detected my need for nicotine and 10,000 other deadly chemicals. I don't really know how the hell she knew everything.
But of course, being the goody-goody daughter that I should be in front of my mom's eyes, I sadly shook my head. If she weren't there, I could've grabbed that stick and lighted that shit with this nifty Zippo lighter I was supposed to give as a Christmas gift for a friend.
Damn. That was close. I'll resort to drinking kerosene tomorrow.
I don't know what's the big deal with smoking anyway. Well for me, that is. I'm already drug-driven, thanks to steroids, which I am still chugging down until now. Why do I still need to do precautionary shits with cigarettes, if my meds had already destroyed my body?
God. One more fucking offer to smoke, and I'm afraid that I'm going to give in already. Sorry, but that's just the way things are when you have a good knowledge that your mortality rate is hitting at an all-time low figure every single puff you make with your inhaler.
I can't take it anymore. Bad influence be damned. No one's influencing me but my obese self, really.
I dunno.
---------------------------
Oh hell. I'm gonna start blabbing about how sad it is that this will be my last Christmas vacation as a high school student again. I'll better stop now, really. And besides, I have five more friggin academic weeks to reminisce past high school experiences anyway. So screw it.
THANK YOU FRIENDS. REALLY NOW.
----------------------------
Mom's friend who is a well-known chain-smoker in her suburbia offered me one of her cancer sticks a while ago right in front of my mom's face. My initial response was happiness, because duh. Finally, someone have detected my need for nicotine and 10,000 other deadly chemicals. I don't really know how the hell she knew everything.
But of course, being the goody-goody daughter that I should be in front of my mom's eyes, I sadly shook my head. If she weren't there, I could've grabbed that stick and lighted that shit with this nifty Zippo lighter I was supposed to give as a Christmas gift for a friend.
Damn. That was close. I'll resort to drinking kerosene tomorrow.
I don't know what's the big deal with smoking anyway. Well for me, that is. I'm already drug-driven, thanks to steroids, which I am still chugging down until now. Why do I still need to do precautionary shits with cigarettes, if my meds had already destroyed my body?
God. One more fucking offer to smoke, and I'm afraid that I'm going to give in already. Sorry, but that's just the way things are when you have a good knowledge that your mortality rate is hitting at an all-time low figure every single puff you make with your inhaler.
I can't take it anymore. Bad influence be damned. No one's influencing me but my obese self, really.
I dunno.
---------------------------
Thursday, December 13, 2007
I Guess, You Guess, We All Guess
I invented a very intellectual joke just now.
What do you get when you cross asphalt roads, massive mediums of transportation (like..uh..200okg, probably?), and Physics?
A blank paper caused by blanked minds, of course.
I'm very much assuming that this is what most of my batchmates can describe for that sixth page of that Physics exam from hell. It was really that bad and hard, actually. While tinkering my brain for the right formula I can use to find that stupid acceleration, I was also thinking of the right thing to blame as the culprit that is very much inducing the sudden blackout of my mind. Blame it on the fact that I crammed our investigatory project. Blame it on my lack of sleep for the past few days. Blame it on my country's political and economical crisis. Blame it on my obesity. Blame it on my pubic hairs. Blame it on the fact that I did not study painstakingly for my favorite subject.
Akon's right. BLAME IT ON ME.
Right after the exam, people started whining, shouting, asking questions to this and that. Me? I just laughed heartily. You know, that laugh Santa Claus makes when he's high with this special drug he created, which is a combination of Tylenol, valium, coke, vicodin, and a bit of Rudolph's red nose. For some unknown reason, everything seemed to be so funny. It's as if I sniffed some of Santa's drug myself.
I was reading through different blog entries concerning the deadly Physics exam last night and most of them had the same reaction that I had. Funny. And weird. Some were asking how the hell do you get the frictional force when there's no applied force nor a frictional coefficient given. Some were even asking if we can sue our Physics teacher for making a word problem that none of us can even solve. How..absurd.
I'll fail Physics. For sure. And to think that I told my dad that I deserve a DSLR for Christmas because of my grades this year. I will day on Christmas Day.
I shall do my daily monologue here. So please. Skip this part.
The final velocity of the car should be 0, because it stopped after 5 seconds. To find the acceleration, you then have to subtract 15 from 0, then dividing the by-product by 5. Doing this will result to an acceleration/deceleration of -3m/s/s. Find the weight of the car by multiplying its mass by the gravitational constant 9.8. Find the normal force by multiplying mass by the acceleration we got earlier, then add it to the weight. Since the car slided after stopping, it is evident from there that there is no friction between the car's wheels and the stupid asphalt road. And with this, you automatically have no frictional force. Therefore, no frictional coefficient.
I suck harder than ever.
-------------------------------
I was surprised when I saw my name on that little box below the editorial article in the recent issue of Pauliworld. It was more of surreal, really. If you've been reading my life for the past couple of months, you'll then know why.
As far as I can remember, I never attended any meetings called by the school paper EVER, except for that first meeting that very much resembled the school's first day of classes; people greeting each other, congratulating, and garbling out questions. Luckily, the school paper is nowhere near the school jungle. You can quit if you think you can't handle the pressures being offered right in your face.
Apparently, that's what I exactly did. Since then, every freakin' time someone would mention Pauliworld, my heart would skip a beat. It's like I killed the editor-in-chief, or smashed those machines that are used to publish the school paper. Knowing myself well enough, that's the feeling that I would usually get for doing something inappropriate and uncanny. Like cheating for the Physics exam, or deflowering myself using a used candle.
So yeah. You can just imagine my ghastly reaction when I saw my typographically-errored last name encoded in that green box. Taragas, huh? That's probably kismet's way of letting my remorse out for deciding to quit this unparalleled chance of writing for the school paper. How mature. I typically get insults like that from 3rd graders, and even those kids think that playing with my last name is the least thing they'll do.
Well, all of it probably comes with the package anyway. With a very mundane and inexplicable name, I cannot think of any good reason why someone would pronounce or even spell it right. I'll just blame my dad for his futile attempt to give her first child the most princess-y name ever this time.
------------------------
Love(and that guy who broke my heart) is like my addiction to Coke. No matter how I try to avoid it, it will all just end up on it again. The more you think about it, the more your mind and body hungers for it. Maybe there's still cocaine left in Coke. But for love? I don't know. Maybe it's all in the infatuation dopamine and norepinerephine and fucking endorphin gives.
You don't really have to get the surrealism. Nor the idea.
Forgive me. I don't really know where the hell this mawkishness is coming from. My current lethargy is not much of a help for me to forget stuffs. Stuffs that are....stupid.
You get the abstract.
What you can do is pop my blackheads and invent a new dish out of the pasta-like substance that comes out and defeat the culinary master out of Wolfgang Puck.
Oh well.
What do you get when you cross asphalt roads, massive mediums of transportation (like..uh..200okg, probably?), and Physics?
A blank paper caused by blanked minds, of course.
I'm very much assuming that this is what most of my batchmates can describe for that sixth page of that Physics exam from hell. It was really that bad and hard, actually. While tinkering my brain for the right formula I can use to find that stupid acceleration, I was also thinking of the right thing to blame as the culprit that is very much inducing the sudden blackout of my mind. Blame it on the fact that I crammed our investigatory project. Blame it on my lack of sleep for the past few days. Blame it on my country's political and economical crisis. Blame it on my obesity. Blame it on my pubic hairs. Blame it on the fact that I did not study painstakingly for my favorite subject.
Akon's right. BLAME IT ON ME.
Right after the exam, people started whining, shouting, asking questions to this and that. Me? I just laughed heartily. You know, that laugh Santa Claus makes when he's high with this special drug he created, which is a combination of Tylenol, valium, coke, vicodin, and a bit of Rudolph's red nose. For some unknown reason, everything seemed to be so funny. It's as if I sniffed some of Santa's drug myself.
I was reading through different blog entries concerning the deadly Physics exam last night and most of them had the same reaction that I had. Funny. And weird. Some were asking how the hell do you get the frictional force when there's no applied force nor a frictional coefficient given. Some were even asking if we can sue our Physics teacher for making a word problem that none of us can even solve. How..absurd.
I'll fail Physics. For sure. And to think that I told my dad that I deserve a DSLR for Christmas because of my grades this year. I will day on Christmas Day.
I shall do my daily monologue here. So please. Skip this part.
The final velocity of the car should be 0, because it stopped after 5 seconds. To find the acceleration, you then have to subtract 15 from 0, then dividing the by-product by 5. Doing this will result to an acceleration/deceleration of -3m/s/s. Find the weight of the car by multiplying its mass by the gravitational constant 9.8. Find the normal force by multiplying mass by the acceleration we got earlier, then add it to the weight. Since the car slided after stopping, it is evident from there that there is no friction between the car's wheels and the stupid asphalt road. And with this, you automatically have no frictional force. Therefore, no frictional coefficient.
I suck harder than ever.
-------------------------------
I was surprised when I saw my name on that little box below the editorial article in the recent issue of Pauliworld. It was more of surreal, really. If you've been reading my life for the past couple of months, you'll then know why.
As far as I can remember, I never attended any meetings called by the school paper EVER, except for that first meeting that very much resembled the school's first day of classes; people greeting each other, congratulating, and garbling out questions. Luckily, the school paper is nowhere near the school jungle. You can quit if you think you can't handle the pressures being offered right in your face.
Apparently, that's what I exactly did. Since then, every freakin' time someone would mention Pauliworld, my heart would skip a beat. It's like I killed the editor-in-chief, or smashed those machines that are used to publish the school paper. Knowing myself well enough, that's the feeling that I would usually get for doing something inappropriate and uncanny. Like cheating for the Physics exam, or deflowering myself using a used candle.
So yeah. You can just imagine my ghastly reaction when I saw my typographically-errored last name encoded in that green box. Taragas, huh? That's probably kismet's way of letting my remorse out for deciding to quit this unparalleled chance of writing for the school paper. How mature. I typically get insults like that from 3rd graders, and even those kids think that playing with my last name is the least thing they'll do.
Well, all of it probably comes with the package anyway. With a very mundane and inexplicable name, I cannot think of any good reason why someone would pronounce or even spell it right. I'll just blame my dad for his futile attempt to give her first child the most princess-y name ever this time.
------------------------
Love(and that guy who broke my heart) is like my addiction to Coke. No matter how I try to avoid it, it will all just end up on it again. The more you think about it, the more your mind and body hungers for it. Maybe there's still cocaine left in Coke. But for love? I don't know. Maybe it's all in the infatuation dopamine and norepinerephine and fucking endorphin gives.
You don't really have to get the surrealism. Nor the idea.
Forgive me. I don't really know where the hell this mawkishness is coming from. My current lethargy is not much of a help for me to forget stuffs. Stuffs that are....stupid.
You get the abstract.
What you can do is pop my blackheads and invent a new dish out of the pasta-like substance that comes out and defeat the culinary master out of Wolfgang Puck.
Oh well.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
I Just Blogged 3
I don't know why I'm doing this, really. I have my periodical exam for Physics tomorrow and God knows why I was not able to study intensively for it. Well actually, I have an idea why. It's our investigatory project, dammit. I was only able to finish it off a while ago and uhh. I feel so reinvigorated for some reasons. Yeah, with only 3 hours of sleep.
And it looks like I'll be getting four later. What a way to prep my self for my second to the last examinations. Thanks a lot, George Ohm.
I just blogged to say that I'm missing that guy who broke my heart. Because I'm fat. And not sex-educated nor liberated in any way. I'm blaming the Christmas-y feeling. Why do we all have to be so absurdly sentimental during the holidays anyway? I mean, it's explainable for those people in the West, with their ever-so white f-ing snow.
What about us posers?
I'm having dreams about getting into UP-Diliman with a killer bod. Jesus. And it's all because of you. I know that miracles per se can't really fluctuate my massive thighs in two months time, but fuck divine interventions. I'll be sexy enough for college. YOU just wait. And when that time comes, you'll be praying to God just for my smile. Ha. Beat that.
AAARGGHH.
I can't take this monologue-ing shit anymore. I used to think that I can shove him off with my brains, but I know that my hypothalamus ain't enough for him to even notice me again. I have to get skinny. I have to shed some skin. I have to stop eating.
Yeah that's right. Stop eating. There's no point in eating anyway. What's with munching tasty food, right? Now I understand Nicole Richie.
Goodness. I suck at sourgraping.
----------------
For the second time, the owner of is not a bitter pill/bitch/pig. She just misses that cathartic feeling of being.....hurt.
And it looks like I'll be getting four later. What a way to prep my self for my second to the last examinations. Thanks a lot, George Ohm.
I just blogged to say that I'm missing that guy who broke my heart. Because I'm fat. And not sex-educated nor liberated in any way. I'm blaming the Christmas-y feeling. Why do we all have to be so absurdly sentimental during the holidays anyway? I mean, it's explainable for those people in the West, with their ever-so white f-ing snow.
What about us posers?
I'm having dreams about getting into UP-Diliman with a killer bod. Jesus. And it's all because of you. I know that miracles per se can't really fluctuate my massive thighs in two months time, but fuck divine interventions. I'll be sexy enough for college. YOU just wait. And when that time comes, you'll be praying to God just for my smile. Ha. Beat that.
AAARGGHH.
I can't take this monologue-ing shit anymore. I used to think that I can shove him off with my brains, but I know that my hypothalamus ain't enough for him to even notice me again. I have to get skinny. I have to shed some skin. I have to stop eating.
Yeah that's right. Stop eating. There's no point in eating anyway. What's with munching tasty food, right? Now I understand Nicole Richie.
Goodness. I suck at sourgraping.
----------------
For the second time, the owner of is not a bitter pill/bitch/pig. She just misses that cathartic feeling of being.....hurt.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Dream on
People have been flooding my Multiply message board with their wish lists for the past few days. I was about to click that link to post a new blog entry for my own, but then I remembered my sense of non-conformity and sullenness. Yeah, how ironic.
I have issues regarding wish lists, really. It's not that I'm being bitter about the fact that when I make one, I'm sure as hell that my parents wouldn't really grant any of those things I really want. I mean, I doubt it. Having me as their daughter is a sneak preview of hell already, for Christ's sake. No one would treat Satan's prodigy in a good way.
In fact, I don't really know why I have this strong grudge against wish lists. Ha.
---------------------------
Do you know what else is weird?
Christmas.
Christmas used to be so fun when I was still an innocent little girl, with a brain so clean its impulses are squeaking and medulla oblangata shining like hell. I would look for any material capable of making a beat, then I would go out and go caroling or wassailing on my own. A block of wood and a small metal tube boosted my self-confidence, and my croaking voice made people realize that I'm no Aretha Franklin. I did that for three freakin' years before I realized that there is no point in singing Christmas carols for people who don't fucking care whatever you sing. Old people are an exception. They are so kind, they will still surely bake you some cookies even if you perform a rendition of Britney's Gimme More with their crippled legs as your pole. No offense, but I wish all people would act like that and be so civilized around kids.
I've never received a girly girl gift ever since I was born. There was this one time when I saw a big gift with my name written on it under our Christmas tree. I rummaged through the piles of gifts, in search for my sister's gift. And ha. There it was. a rectangular box that is a 75% smaller than my big gift, all wrapped in an artsy-fartsy gift wrapper. My lips suddenly curved itself into a sharp grin, as if I'm impersonating Grinch. Even as a kid, I'm already full of arrogance. No wonder I grew up into a selfish pig.
Christmas day came, and as usual, my sister and I raced to the Christmas tree with our mom and dad beaming behind us. I grabbed my big gift and my sister acquired hers too. I quickly teared the wrapper and my eyes bored to my gift. Damn. An automatic magic slate again? I looked behind me and saw that my sister's gift is a Barbie doll. I rapidly grabbed the pink box and gave my big gift to my sister. I don't know what kind of evil possessed me at that time, but everytime I think about it, I cringe like hell. I can't believe there was this instance in my life where I wanted to be a female-something so badly, I exchanged an educational machine for a blond doll that is probably dumber than my dog.
But now, Christmas is just a word.
------------------------------------
I commuted yesterday in a very conventional way. You see, the conventional way is fighting that gravitational force exerted by the slope by climbing all the way up from my school to the DepEd building. Then from there, you have to ride an FX routed to the nearby mall. When you get to the nearby mall, you have to ride another FX coursed to the city wet market. Then you can drop off at any point in downtown where you can ride a tricycle that will take you directly to you house situated in a fancy-schmancy village that is probably 20-30 meters away.
I liked it, actually. I used to just ride a taxi and tell the driver my destination and off we go. There will be no adventure in this kind of trip except if the driver is coincidentally drunk and crashed the car into something massive, or if you're just tad too unfortunate because your driver is horny and decides to rape you, or whatever.
But of course, something awkward just have to happen.
The FX I have ridden is definitely a love shack in disguise. I mean, come on. The only person not coupled in the ride is me, the person beside me, and the driver. It was a very tormenting trip, probably because all of them are PDA-ing right in our faces. Of course I was anguished. Who wouldn't be? That time would probably the greatest epitome of when and where you have to shout 'Get a room!' before anybody starts licking somebody's throat in front of your eyes to let out the bitterness in you. Ah, how anguishing.
I'm no bitter pill, excuse me. Displays of affection just reminds me of how stupid love per se made me for quite some time. Dopamine and norepinephine be damned. I'll never be so dense again to let fucking butterflies fly in my large stomach again. My stomach is thus reserved for carbonate reserves only. Those butterflies has to find a sanctuary of their own.
Love did not teach me nor made me realize anything except for the followong facts:
- College boys are simply horny. They think that being in love with somebody can get their way in a chick's body.
- Infatuation is the worst thing that can happen to you. It makes you so paranoid and psychotic that even your dignity will be very ashamed of you, and thus will leave you dumbass alone. Being a druggie is way better. Trust me.
- Nobody will ever ever EVER love you for who you are. It's always either you have big mammary glands, or he is just damn introverted to look for any other girls he can trick into sleeping with him. No matter how smarty-pantsy you'll get, your parents are the only ones who will love you for that.
All I'm saying is, love is non-existent. If it does, then why do we have to get hurt? Problems and challenges are enough to develop us as intellectual persons. Why do we still need to be tormented by love?
I just lost my pride by bringing up a sappy topic again. WTF.
-----------------------------
This week is a shitload of catharsis. We were all jogging down in memory lane, and reminiscing high school moments we shall all cherish before we go to different colleges and universities in roughly 3 months' time.
No more strict school rules.
No more greasy canteen food.
No more homeroom.
No more nuns.
No more school buses.
No more intimidating classmates.
No more class presentations.
No more surprise inspections.
No more bisexuals.
No more jogging pants.
No more red tiles.
No more PCH.
No more CL.
No more high school.
Mark your calendars, people. On the 17th of March, we will all bid goodbye to our hellhole that suddenly became our second home; a home that is a better version of our own households, because no matter what we have to go through, there will always be people behind our backs and supporting us until the end. People I will surely not forget who went through all cramming thinga-majigs for my 4-year stay in SPCP (oops. I mentioned that shit.).
HIGH SCHOOL FRIENDS.
After 10 years, Monica will be Dra. Canta.
After 10 years, Nina will be Dra. Meily.
After 4 years, Rachell, Jacque, Juella, and Patti will all be nurses.
After 5 years, Alyssa will be Engr. Flores.
After 4 years, Charlene will be a businesswoman.
After n years, my batchmates will all be professionals in their own respective fields.
What about me? I'll be the crankiest engineer the world has yet to discover and truly love.
I'll miss high school.
Really.
I can't believe I'll be graduating from high school already.
I have issues regarding wish lists, really. It's not that I'm being bitter about the fact that when I make one, I'm sure as hell that my parents wouldn't really grant any of those things I really want. I mean, I doubt it. Having me as their daughter is a sneak preview of hell already, for Christ's sake. No one would treat Satan's prodigy in a good way.
In fact, I don't really know why I have this strong grudge against wish lists. Ha.
---------------------------
Do you know what else is weird?
Christmas.
Christmas used to be so fun when I was still an innocent little girl, with a brain so clean its impulses are squeaking and medulla oblangata shining like hell. I would look for any material capable of making a beat, then I would go out and go caroling or wassailing on my own. A block of wood and a small metal tube boosted my self-confidence, and my croaking voice made people realize that I'm no Aretha Franklin. I did that for three freakin' years before I realized that there is no point in singing Christmas carols for people who don't fucking care whatever you sing. Old people are an exception. They are so kind, they will still surely bake you some cookies even if you perform a rendition of Britney's Gimme More with their crippled legs as your pole. No offense, but I wish all people would act like that and be so civilized around kids.
I've never received a girly girl gift ever since I was born. There was this one time when I saw a big gift with my name written on it under our Christmas tree. I rummaged through the piles of gifts, in search for my sister's gift. And ha. There it was. a rectangular box that is a 75% smaller than my big gift, all wrapped in an artsy-fartsy gift wrapper. My lips suddenly curved itself into a sharp grin, as if I'm impersonating Grinch. Even as a kid, I'm already full of arrogance. No wonder I grew up into a selfish pig.
Christmas day came, and as usual, my sister and I raced to the Christmas tree with our mom and dad beaming behind us. I grabbed my big gift and my sister acquired hers too. I quickly teared the wrapper and my eyes bored to my gift. Damn. An automatic magic slate again? I looked behind me and saw that my sister's gift is a Barbie doll. I rapidly grabbed the pink box and gave my big gift to my sister. I don't know what kind of evil possessed me at that time, but everytime I think about it, I cringe like hell. I can't believe there was this instance in my life where I wanted to be a female-something so badly, I exchanged an educational machine for a blond doll that is probably dumber than my dog.
But now, Christmas is just a word.
------------------------------------
I commuted yesterday in a very conventional way. You see, the conventional way is fighting that gravitational force exerted by the slope by climbing all the way up from my school to the DepEd building. Then from there, you have to ride an FX routed to the nearby mall. When you get to the nearby mall, you have to ride another FX coursed to the city wet market. Then you can drop off at any point in downtown where you can ride a tricycle that will take you directly to you house situated in a fancy-schmancy village that is probably 20-30 meters away.
I liked it, actually. I used to just ride a taxi and tell the driver my destination and off we go. There will be no adventure in this kind of trip except if the driver is coincidentally drunk and crashed the car into something massive, or if you're just tad too unfortunate because your driver is horny and decides to rape you, or whatever.
But of course, something awkward just have to happen.
The FX I have ridden is definitely a love shack in disguise. I mean, come on. The only person not coupled in the ride is me, the person beside me, and the driver. It was a very tormenting trip, probably because all of them are PDA-ing right in our faces. Of course I was anguished. Who wouldn't be? That time would probably the greatest epitome of when and where you have to shout 'Get a room!' before anybody starts licking somebody's throat in front of your eyes to let out the bitterness in you. Ah, how anguishing.
I'm no bitter pill, excuse me. Displays of affection just reminds me of how stupid love per se made me for quite some time. Dopamine and norepinephine be damned. I'll never be so dense again to let fucking butterflies fly in my large stomach again. My stomach is thus reserved for carbonate reserves only. Those butterflies has to find a sanctuary of their own.
Love did not teach me nor made me realize anything except for the followong facts:
- College boys are simply horny. They think that being in love with somebody can get their way in a chick's body.
- Infatuation is the worst thing that can happen to you. It makes you so paranoid and psychotic that even your dignity will be very ashamed of you, and thus will leave you dumbass alone. Being a druggie is way better. Trust me.
- Nobody will ever ever EVER love you for who you are. It's always either you have big mammary glands, or he is just damn introverted to look for any other girls he can trick into sleeping with him. No matter how smarty-pantsy you'll get, your parents are the only ones who will love you for that.
All I'm saying is, love is non-existent. If it does, then why do we have to get hurt? Problems and challenges are enough to develop us as intellectual persons. Why do we still need to be tormented by love?
I just lost my pride by bringing up a sappy topic again. WTF.
-----------------------------
This week is a shitload of catharsis. We were all jogging down in memory lane, and reminiscing high school moments we shall all cherish before we go to different colleges and universities in roughly 3 months' time.
No more strict school rules.
No more greasy canteen food.
No more homeroom.
No more nuns.
No more school buses.
No more intimidating classmates.
No more class presentations.
No more surprise inspections.
No more bisexuals.
No more jogging pants.
No more red tiles.
No more PCH.
No more CL.
No more high school.
Mark your calendars, people. On the 17th of March, we will all bid goodbye to our hellhole that suddenly became our second home; a home that is a better version of our own households, because no matter what we have to go through, there will always be people behind our backs and supporting us until the end. People I will surely not forget who went through all cramming thinga-majigs for my 4-year stay in SPCP (oops. I mentioned that shit.).
HIGH SCHOOL FRIENDS.
After 10 years, Monica will be Dra. Canta.
After 10 years, Nina will be Dra. Meily.
After 4 years, Rachell, Jacque, Juella, and Patti will all be nurses.
After 5 years, Alyssa will be Engr. Flores.
After 4 years, Charlene will be a businesswoman.
After n years, my batchmates will all be professionals in their own respective fields.
What about me? I'll be the crankiest engineer the world has yet to discover and truly love.
I'll miss high school.
Really.
I can't believe I'll be graduating from high school already.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
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.
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.
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